#and it smack dab is about some summer dance thing. when I tell you I felt like I was an idiot

[museenkuss]

Have you noticed the rise of young adult aimed media lately? The other day I was discussing the topic with a very dear friend of mine who surprised me by saying that she doesn't mind that at all and will gladly watch shows aimed at a younger audience.

I've been thinking about that a lot - I remember shows and movies like The Devil wears Prada, SaTC, Shoppaholic etc that featured main characters in their 20s-30s but were enjoyed by teenagers as well. These days I feel like we get the opposite, with Euphoria, Stranger Things etc - shows with a main focus on (supposed) teenagers that are aimed at older audiences as well. Very interesting!

...and annoying to me personally since I don't really find (americanised) teen life very interesting or relatable. I might rewatch a show I enjoyed while I was a teenager and I have watched shows aimed at a younger audience because I knew they would mention a topic I care about a lot that isn't discussed in adult media most of the time - but it took a while before I convinced myself I wanted to watch that show badly enough to put up with first kisses and pop quizzes and spring dances. My friend, again, has a completely different view on that and mentioned that she will gladly watch The Summer I Turned Pretty for fun and relaxation - which genuinely shocked me (because I can’t relate, not because I’m judging her — or you, if you like those shows).

So now I have to ask

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Blind by Love (Prologue)

Summary: A once condemned man now free of charge but living the life of someone who's been through hell Eddie Munson believed he is incapable of being loved after what happens in the Upside Down that nearly takes his life. What happens though when he meets an unexpected girl who is thrown into his life and teaches him that one doesn't need to ability to see what's right in front of you to know love is never out of reach?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Blind!OC

Story Contains: Mention of past trauma, PTSD, and mention of gore/blood; if you are sensitive to any of these topics please refrain from reading for your own mental safety. I don't want to accidentally trigger you, darling! Stay safe!

Chapter Warning: Mention of blood and death.

Time Set: Set right before S1 in 1983 before Ep. 1. Nicole is 14 years old and the prologue helps explain the cause of her blindness.

Next Chapter>>

She groaned as her the very off key tones of her dad was heard from the drivers seat as he attempted to dance and sing like a man half his age behind the wheel. Attempt being the key word here as he looked like he was having some sort of seizure and his voice sounded like a kid going through puberty which just sort of made both her and her mom laugh at him as they attempted to sing along but couldn't due to their laughter that shook their frame. The Volkswagon that contained the three was on the way to the airport where the Campbell family was on the way to visit Mrs. Campbell's older sister Karen Wheeler who lives in Hawkins Indiana. Nicole was so excited because she'd missed seeing her cousins Nancy and Mike. It'd been a few years since they'd last got together; the last time the young girl had seen them since their last family get together which if she remembered was like a family funeral for her nan or something like that a few years back. She'd try to keep in touch with her cousins seeing as they were the only family she had her age. Mike was 12 right now if Nicole remembered which made Nancy 16. Where Nicole fell between them was smack dab in the middle at age 14 in her current years which make the three of them the perfect trio when they were all together all things considering. Nicole was the type that got along with most people and was always super friendly so perhaps that's why she was close friends with Mike's childhood gang of misfit nerds Will, Lucas, and Dustin but at the same time had no problem with staying up with Nancy chatting about boys and gossiping as if Nicole was 16 just like her. So yeah, you could say Nicole was super excited to spend the summer over at her best friends house. Her parents weren't going to stay the summer, only like the first week before they were kicking off to go visit some other family in other states which would leave a very happy Nicole in the custody and care of her Aunt Karen and Uncle Dan. Let's just say, Nicole was stoked for summer.

"Dad I think you just missed the exit turn for the airport." Nicole leaned over Mr. Campbell's shoulder from her perch in the backseat to pat at his shoulder who'd stopped singing long enough to listen to her words.

He looked down at the map briefly with a groan "Oh shit you're right honey." he stated only to receive a good whack on the arm from his wife who wore a playful scowl.

"Language Harold!" she chided.

"Sorry dear." the man replied with a sheepish chuckle as he fondly grabbed his wife hand before tipping his head over his shoulder to look at those beautiful blue eyes of his daughter as she rested her chin on his shoulder with a smile as she watched the road ahead.

"Why don't you tell me where we can turn honey?" Harold offered as he let go of his wife's hand so that he could grab the folded map in his lap to hand back to his daughter.

Beaming with excitement Nicole snatched it and flopped back into her seat glad to have something to do instead of staring out the window or be subjected to her father's horrible singing. "What road are we on right now?" she asked scanning the lines and colors of the map in her lap.

"Route 65." The pretty girl nodded to herself as her finger scanned the paper before exclaiming in delight and triumph.

"There's a turn about about 3 miles up the road Dad! We can turn there and make our way back down the otherside until that junction we had to stop at earlier before taking a left on the right exit for the airport!"

The parents from the front seat turned to smile at each other with proud looks on their faces as they listened. Nicole was always such a smart girl and they couldn't help be proud of her. Once she went back to school she'd do great in all her classes and if they had a say in it. They'd think she'd become rather popular too if she'd eventually open up. She was a pretty girl and not just for her brains either. Even at 14 years of age she was such a cutie with her sleek strawberry blonde locks that rested just below her shoulders, pale skin soft as a peach, and those mesmerizing eyes she got from her father's side of the gene pool no doubt; probably the tint of her strawberry locks too considering Harold Campbell had a shocking head of read hair and bright blue eyes while Nicole's mother Jessica had pretty blonde curles and brown eyes.

As they continued to drive the sun began to sink further and further in the sky ahead making them nervous that they'd miss their flight. Especially as the darkness finally settled in and they didn't seem any closer to their destination. It felt like hours since they'd made that wrong turn and tempers were getting short. Nicole was resting in the back seat with her chin in her hands as she stared out into the darkness beyond her window as she listened to the bickering of her parents in the front. What started as a fun beginning to their trip turned into a disaster.

"I told you Harold you should have gone right!" Jessica stated angrily as she stabbed a finger ontop of the map in her lap as she glared over at her husband who was trying to keep track of the road and his wife's angry stare.

"Jessica, darling, I simply missed the turn Nickie had told me. I'm sure there is another turn somewhere we can take or a place to stop for the night." he tried to reason.

"Harold we've missed our plane by now! Where do you think we're going from here? There isn't another turn for another hundred miles and we are running out of gas!" the man glanced down to realize that she was in fact right; the gas tank only had a few miles left before empty.

"Can't we call someone perhaps?" Harold offered glancing down at the car phone plugged into the console which his wife merely rolled her eyes and waved her hands around dramatically.

"Call who Harold? We don't know where we are at!"

"Mom Dad." Nicole's voice spoke up suddenly from the back trying to gain their attention but they were too busy to arguing to pay attention to their daughter's soft voice calling for them.

Swallowing the girl peered closer through her window when she saw it again. A shape, lanky and oddly humanoid shaped as it ran along the side of the road just barely seen from the light the moon cast. It looked…wrong. She couldn't quiet tell what it was, for all she knew it could be a wolf or coyote or something but that didn't seem right to her. The figure seemed to be too big for one of those and was far faster than one of canines she knew of. The thing outside her window was keeping up at 65 mph that the car was driving down the road and Nicole knew this wasn't any creature she'd ever heard of that could match that speed that lived in these parts. A wolf's top speed was 31-37mph while a coyote's top was 35-43mph. Franky the thing could have been a mountain lion or something but that was so far fetched in her mind.

"Mom, Dad, I think I see something outside-" Nicole reached over the seats to tap her mother's shoulder.

"Nicole hold on a minute we are-"

something slammed into the side of the car making Mr. Campbell lose control of the car. They screamed clutching at whatever they could as the vehicle lost traction a second on the ground before the man managed to get it back straight on the road. He slowed the car down a bit until they were at a complete stop. All three panting and looking at each other like 'what the fuck just happened?'

"Oh god did I hit a deer?" Mr. Campbell gasped out as he looked through the review mirror to see if he could see a body of a deer lying in the road but what they saw was most definitely not a deer.

Nicole couldn't believe her eyes as she saw the figure slowly emerge into the range of the back lights of the car. A soft "Oh my god." slipped past her lips before she screamed bloody murder as the face. or what should have been a face of whatever the hell that thing was opened like petals of a flower to expose hundreds of teeth lining it's mouth.

"Drive! Dad drive!"

Mr. Campbell slammed on the gas and the tires screeched as the car lurched forward and began to gain speed. The night was pierced by the sudden screech of something that was definitely not human as the lanky figure rose on its back legs and began charging the car with claw-like hands reaching for the vehicle. Nicole couldn't take her eyes away from the figure as it slowly began to get smaller and smaller as the car hit 45mph, 65pmh, and then 85mph. Reckless was the right word to call it but they were outrunning it; that counted for something right? Wrong. So very very wrong. Because suddenly their tire popped like a balloon making the car careen sideways; losing not only the traction of the road but the control of the car itself as it spun once and then it happened. That THING came back out of nowhere and slammed into the side of the car. Due to the momentum that the car was driving the strength that thing possessed managed to make the car flip a few times as it skidded across the road with sparks of flint as metal scraped concrete. The smell of smoke and gasoline was pungent in Nicole's nose when her blurry vision tried to focus on what was going on. Her head hurt, her entire body hurt and she could feel the hot stickiness of blood running down her face and body. With a neck that hurt like a son of a bitch she turned her head to look towards the broken window of where pieces of shattered glass still desperately clung to the frame. Through it, she could see the slick grey figure of whatever that creature was amble its way towards them.

Nicole realized that the world looked wrong because she was upside down; the car having landed in a crumbling heap on it's roof. With what strength she could muster she jammed at her seatbelt; getting it unlocked only for her to fall straight onto her front with a cry of pain as she landed on glass that jammed into her already broken up body. She heard the snuffling of whatever that creature was outside; seemingly excited at the scent of blood and it made her whimpered as she reached to the front of the car to nudge at the limp forms of her parents.

"mom dad, some on! Wake up! We gotta run. Come on!" she sobbed seeing the blooded faces of her parents. Trying to keep it together she crawled through one of the broken windows when she noticed that alien looking thing wasn't nearby and instead was sniffling and pawing at their luggage that had fallen out of the car during the accident.

She crouched by her mom's side of the window and tried to wake her but she realized with a sob that her mom was no longer breathing. That was partly due to the shards of glass that was peirced through her torso. Pleading for whatever gods may be watching Nicole peered past her mother to look at her dad just in time for a grey clawed hand to reach into the open window and sink into her father's torso; yanking his body from the car. He was already dead but that didn't stop the creature from opening it's face up like a blooming flower and sink those small teeth into her father's chest. Nicole's hand clasped to her mouth to stifle her screams as the thing tore into her father's body. The sound of flesh and bone being torn and sucked clean would haunt her forever.

She thought she was a gonner too; it was only a matter of minutes before that thing would find her without much trouble seeing as there was no where to hide in the middle of nowhere roadscape. She was too young to die but she was going to anyways. Or so she thought until she saw lights in the distance. Multiple lights as helicopters flew closer and closer; people dressed in black suites and military weaponry came catapaulting down from ropes as beaming lights landed on the wreckage and that thing still eating it's meal of an innocent man's body. As the bright spotlight landed on it the head rose and it screeched up at the sky before attempting to run. Nicole didn't see what happened to it because her vision was blurry and her hearing sounded as if everything was getting muffled and far away. She barely even registered when one of those men in black military attire holding a large gun crouched in front of her.

"We have a survivor!" his voice was barely even there as Nicole's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed onto the concrete at his feet.

[yeojaa]

stages: rise (with me).

[ read part one ] 

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  mature.  tags.  alluded/referenced drug use (please be responsible).  they take an innocent shower together.  wc.  1.7k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​ @coepiteamare​ i love y’all.  author note.  jungkook’s rave journey continues. 🤠  soundtrack.  songs to comedown to:  hold me close (climax).

They say you never forget your first time.  They’d be right.

You haven’t left Jungkook’s mind - framed perfectly in the centre of his thoughts, lovely with your star-speckled cheeks, the glitter in your hair.  Mona Lisa but so much more, printed to the backs of his eyelids, picture perfect in neon light and stardust.  He misses you often, despite the fact he always sees you at things like this.  Spies you dancing in a kaleidoscope of colour, made glow-in-the-dark by the appliques on your chest, the rubber toe of your sneakers.  You move as if the music lives in you, as if there’s nothing in the world but the melody. 

It’s easy to get lost in the sway of your hips, the rhythm of your body when the stage erupts in colour and the bass drops.  It captures all of his attention, has him staring like a fool in love, utterly unable to do anything but stop and admire.

God, you’re beautiful.  

His heart stutters in his chest, nearly falling out of the cavity when you catch him in the act, raise a hand and offer the sweetest wave.

There’s a sea of people between you - two dozen writhing bodies - and all he can see is you.  The shape of your smile when he returns the gesture, palms sweaty, pulse racing like a thunderclap.  How the simple expression feels like an explosion of stardust, illuminating everything around you.  (It’s definitely not just the light show.  It’s all you.)

He wonders whether it’ll always be like this - whether the pieces of you will forever be wedged into his heart, little splinters of affection built up like scar tissue.  Whether they’ll ache on days like today, where you’re too far and he’s left to orbit you, caught in your gravitational pull with no hope of escape.  If the scent of strawberries and sugar will remind him of you until he’s old and grey, still hung up on the pretty girl that’d saved him from a meltdown, because no one’s ever felt the way you do. 

“Kook, you good?”  He hears the question, feels the words bounce around in his skull.  Everything’s clearer than it was that first time.  His head’s not under water and he’s not drowning.

(But he wouldn’t mind if it was your voice that called him to sea.  He’d wade a hundred, thousand, million miles for you.  Get swept away by the waves just to hear your voice once more.  It’d be a good way to go.  The best, he thinks.)

“Y-yeah?”  There’s still a haze - a faint fuzziness at the edges of his conscience.  Cotton candy floss that spins everything in circles, sugar-spun particles aching his jaw when he zones out just a little too much, knuckles blown white, water bottle in his hand eviscerated. 

It takes a concerted effort to refocus his attention.  He wants so badly to keep watching, admiring, wanting.

Mischief is palpable, three heavy lines of red striking through syllables.  A new challenger appears in the form of another bottle, lidless and so close it makes Jungkook’s jaw ache in anticipation.  “Want some more?” 

Did he?  Of course.  He can’t have the thing he’s been craving for months;  this will have to do.

“Careful, baby boy.”  You’re suddenly there, right in front of him.  So close he could touch you, smelling like berries and cream and smiling brighter than the sun.  (He swears he might go blind, doesn’t mind when the rays are so warm.)

All at once, he’s shaking all over, limbs loose, foot bouncing.  Stop it, he tells himself, worries for the state of his joints because he thinks he might topple over any minute now.  That there’s nothing he can do to save himself from the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes glow with the strobe of the overhead lights.

He remembers how you held his hand last time, laying in the strange bed wrapped up in your arms.  Your voice static in his ears, cotton threads in the quiet, stretching on and on until he’d fallen asleep.  How you hadn’t left, not once, not even when he’d been burning up, white hot heat tearing through him, sweat pouring from his brow.  

You’d stayed all night, soothed the tremor of his bones.  Promised him things would be okay.  And they were.

The ordeal had left him raw and aching and tired, all the weight of the world carried in the bags under his eyes.  A walking skeleton, nothing but a bag of bones when he’d groaned awake, tripped alive out of his slumber.  But you’d put him back together, glued each piece with nothing but honey and molasses, thick and heavy and so sweet.  Cooed a sweet good morning at two in the afternoon, stamped the shape of your tenderness into his skin and melted tension away with just one caramel-coated smile.

“Hi,”  he says, stutters, hoarse as hell.  Eager as hell.  In love as hell.

(He’s never felt like this before.  Not then.  This is better.  You’re not a mirage in the desert, a vibrating silhouette brought to life by a lightshow.  You’re you!  You’re here.)

“How much have you had?”  

Anyone else, it might be condescending.  But not you.  You’re smiling at him still, reaching too, and he thinks he’s okay - that he’s in control this time.  Realises he’s wrong when he’s leaning too close, falling into the small of your palm, laughing along with you when he nearly topples you both over.

You smell like strawberries and home;  he inhales like you’re spring.

“Not as much as last time.”  Which was to say, just enough.  Not so much he’s a mess, unable to control the rattle of his teeth or the tingling in his fingers.  One cap.  A double.  Nothing outrageous.  Jungkook was smart this time - had finally learned his lesson.

But god, if he doesn’t want to be back where he was that first time with you.  Out of his mind, held together by your touch, seams strung tight by your hands.  That’d be better.

“Good boy.”  Your voice is all of his favourite songs, twinkling in his ears, making his head spin.  It’s all he hears.  The thing in his chest wobbles uncertainly and then so do his knees;  you catch him against your side, hold him together with fingers along his side, fingers replacing the rungs of his ribs.  

He hopes you’ll stay.

It’s easy to get lost in you, distracted by your hand in his, the shade of your smile when you look over your shoulder.  How you fit in his arms, settled like a familiar weight in his lap, curled against his chest.  He’s burning up again - a furnace on a summer night, beaded in sweat and hair sticky.  You don’t care.  You cling to him, run your fingers through his hair.

He swears he’s falling in love, giddy, over the moon, high in the sky with no hopes of coming down.

(But he is.  He can feel the slow-coming clarity, the tremor that dies to a bare tremble when you’re close by.  Your presence medicates him and he doesn’t mind;  you’re angel food cake and lemon tart, not sickly sweet syrup.)

When you guide him into the bathroom, lights off, bumbling about in the dark, it doesn’t matter.  You’re lit up in every colour of the rainbow, Polaris centred in your chest, guiding him home.  He follows without hesitation, crowds you against the sink and giggles to himself when you comb through the sweat-slick tangle plastered to his forehead.

He’s burning up but you cool him down, soothe the ache in his chest when it stutters again and cries out for you.  A salve for his wounds - all the things he doesn’t think about, that sit just beneath the surface and beg for attention.

“Are you okay?”  You ask and he’s barely paying attention to the words, every ounce of focus where it should be:  on you and all your glory.  Each sliver of skin that reveals itself in the darkness.  So pretty he could cry, so soft he swears he’s got velvet in his hands and not your hips.  Picture perfect.  

He says yes but he means no, because how can he be okay when he’s with you.  When you’re pulling him into the glass-walled shower, warm despite the cold water, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.  When you push his hair back and coo a noise that hits him twice - once in the gut and once smack dab in the centre of his chest.  When you’re working out the knots, untangling all the fucked up parts of him with the gentlest motions.  

(Of course Jungkook’s thinking too much, putting too much meaning into how careful you hold him, cradle him like precious glass, unafraid of the broken edges.)

(He can’t help it, though.  Can’t can’t can’t.)

(Wants you too much, wants this too much.  God, save him.)

“Relax,”  you tell him, saccharine and safe, kissing him like you need him just as badly.  There’s a fire lit in the bottom of his chest, a roaring inferno he has no control over.  It dissolves every part of him, turns him to jelly as he melts against you and takes everything you’ll give.

Please, he thinks.

He hasn’t said the words out loud - too afraid, scared of what might come if they slip past his cage of teeth - but you answer all the same, hold him closer, assure him with measured strokes of your hands over the uncertainty he wears like armour.  Sweep it from his shoulders with twists of your fingers and an adoring laugh.  Make him vulnerable and weak and and and—

He doesn’t care.  

Maybe it’s the comedown or maybe it’s you.  It cracks his rib cage in half, splits him wide open, and he doesn’t think twice when you reach in, settle alongside his heart, and make a home. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @codeinebelle​​ @outrofenty​ 

[ricksroaches]

Y/N part 1 - Dysphoria ch. 5

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Y/N has an accident at a Halloween party that sends her further down the wrong path.

notes: Occasionally I'll make some grammatical errors on purpose for emotional emphasis so that's why. Also sorry this took so long I'm kinda going through some stuff right now.

word count: 16.9k

warnings: language, drugs, self harm, mental hospitalization, shitty parents, near drowning, anxiety attack, overdose, hospitalization, miscarriage, sedation

“Do you know why you’re here, Y/N?”

“Spare me. I’ve done this before.”

“I know you have. I’m simply asking if you understand that you need this.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t understand?”

“No, I mean that I don’t need this.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I’ve already accepted that this is how I feel, and how I’ll keep feeling ‘til I die. No amount of talking it out and coping skills will change that.”

“Well, that’s not a very healthy way to look at it.”

“Yeah, no shit, but it works for me and I’d appreciate it if people didn’t waste their time trying to fix me so they can feel better about themselves.”

“I understand.”

“Obviously, you don’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I do. I’m not here to tell you what you're doing wrong. I’m here to figure out how and why you got to where you are.”

“What, you gonna pick apart my life and tell me where everything went wrong?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“Well first, I’d like to go back and discuss your experience at St. Joseph’s.”

“I don’t really feel like talking about that.”

“Y/N, these sessions are mandatory. No matter how much you resist, we’re still stuck here, so you might as well take advantage of the time we still have.”

“…”

“Or, we could just here in silen-”

“Fine. Anything but that.”

~~~

8TH GRADE

The cold classroom was silent except for the steady tick of the clock on the wall. It was only third hour and Y/N already wanted to jump out a window. She’d long finished her classwork and homework, so she buried herself in her sketchbook. Drawing was always her safe place. She found it meditative being able to just turn off her brain and let the pencil map out her mind.

Everyone jumped a little when the intercom released its usual loud beep. “I need to see Y/N L/N in the office.” Her stomach fluttered at the chance to get out of class. “And tell her to bring her things.” She halted. What? She didn’t have any appointments that she knew of, and her parents weren’t the type to check her out for minor things. Her head pounded while she stuffed everything in her backpack with everyone, including her teacher, watching her.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, she made her way down the bland cream and blue hallway that she’d spent the last three miserable years in. Jimin was her best friend all through elementary school, but he switched to a private school, leaving her to fend for herself in a new school of unfamiliar faces. He didn’t want to leave her, but the school she was going to didn’t have a dance department, and his mom had convinced him to go. By the time she found out that the school in question had the best arts program in the district, it was too late. There was no way her parents could afford to send her there anyway.

She’d be lying if she said she was happy he was pursuing his dream. Making friends wasn’t an easy task, Jimin was always the one that did the talking. So she settled for whoever cared enough to give her the time of day. There was only one person she was actually close enough with to hang out outside of school, Abigail. To say she was the dominant one in their relationship would be an understatement. Whatever Abi said, went. Whatever Abi wanted, she got. Whatever she wanted to do, Y/N was dragged along whether she liked it or not. She didn’t mind that much. It was better than no one.

The office door came into view, and she ran over every possible circumstance in her head before opening it. Her parents stood by the front desk. Her dad was clutching her mom’s trembling hand. “Mom? Dad? What’s going on? Did somebody die??”

“No, everything’s fine. We’ll explain on the way.” Her dad took it upon himself to answer.

“Uh...o-kay?”

The second her dad pulled the car onto the road, her mom turned around to face her. “I don’t really know how to start this, so I’m just going to say it. I was cleaning your room last week and found something.”

“What?” She pulled an old DVD case from the glove box and set it in Y/N’s lap. Every single defense mechanism in her body went off at once as she gawked at the image of a black bobbed Uma Thurman laying on a bed with racey magazines, puffing on a cigarette. Her favorite movie. But she knew it wasn’t the inappropriate film that her parents were concerned about. She slid the plastic sheath off to reveal-. They weren’t there.

“Looking for these?” Her mom held up her palm stacked with the razor blades she’d tucked behind the cover. Y/N’s face turned a sickly white, her mouth opening and closing to think of something to say. Her mind was moving so fast her words couldn’t keep up. She had nothing.

“Really? You have nothing to say for yourself?” She subconsciously pulled down her sweater sleeves. Her mom snatched her wrist and yanked the knit fabric back. “How could you do this to yourself?” She turned her arm to make her look at the pale pink and red lines that peppered all the way up her arm. “This is going to stay on you forever. What do you expect people to think when summer comes?”

Y/N dropped her head against the headrest and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. Of all the scenarios she thought of, this wasn't one of them. This had to be a dream. It had to be. She tried to pull her arm away and her mom let go, letting it fall to her side. She turned to her dad with a look that screamed, Say something! He simply shook his head in disappointment.

The car was silent for a long time before she finally mustered the strength to open her mouth. “W-where are we going...?”

“A Catholic youth center.”

“A youth center?”

“Yes. They offer great adolescent counseling.”

“But I don't want to.” She crossed her arms defensively.

“Y/N, we just want to get you help, but we can’t do this on our own.” Her dad finally spoke up.

“It’s a nice place. Sister Adrianne from church volunteers there.” Her mom added.

They turned into the parking lot of an old fashioned brick building decorated with stained glass and white molding. She could smell the Catholicism from here. A black suit, white collared man was waiting for them at the entrance once they’d found a parking space. His wire rimmed glasses caught the late morning sun, shining it right in Y/N’s eyes. That alone was enough to make her scowl. “Hello, I’m Father McCarthy, you must be the L/Ns.” Her parents exchanged pleasantries with him before he led them into the lobby.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of the room was a marble statue of St. Joseph, patron saint of children. Y/N scoffed to herself. She hated this place already. The priest spun on his heels to face the family. “If you don’t mind, I was hoping to have a word with Miss Y/N before the tour.” They looked at each other, shrugged, and nudged the poor girl out to him. “It won’t take but a minute.” He said before cupping her shoulder and steering her through the lobby to a set of backdoors.

Outside was a meditation garden that spanned farther than she could see. Cobblestone paths twisted and turned around rose bushes and vines of ivy. The steady flow of the fountain at the center gave the air a calming ambience. Y/N was anything but calm. “Why are we here?”

“I thought maybe a look at the garden would suit your nerves.” He caught her confused stare and laughed lightly. “Your mask is thick, strong, but I can see deeper than most.”

“I appreciate the effort, but it takes more than some pretty flowers to make me feel better. Are we done?” He sighed and checked his watch.

“I suppose. Right this way.” He placed a guiding hand on her back and steered them to the path out of the garden and inside. Her stride slowed when she saw her parents standing in the lobby, a suitcase in her dad’s hand. Her suitcase. A man in white scrubs took it from him and carried it in the other direction. Everything clicked.

¨No…” She breathed, her head mindlessly shaking. She stepped back and bumped into something firm and whipped around. Another man in the same white uniform towered over her. His face was gentle but his jacked body told a completely different story. His hand clamped onto her bicep. “No, no, no, nonoNONO!” She frantically looked to her parents, who were standing at the exit with pain stricken faces. Her mom buried her head into him while she heard her daughter being dragged away kicking and screaming by two nurses. She’d never forget the final words she caught before she disappeared behind a set of swinging doors.

“I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”

~~~

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you ever forgive your parents?”

“I tried, but she ruined it.”

“How?”

~~~

Y/N followed her screaming, cussing mom through the house as she took trips from her room to the porch, tossing her belongings out onto the lawn.

She’d found her stash.

“Mom! Stop it! This is childish!” she stopped in her tracks and whipped around to face her daughter.

“CHILDISH?!” She took an aggressive step forward. “I’LL TELL YOU WHAT”S CHILDISH! STEALING FROM YOUR OWN PARENTS TO BY DRUGS!” Y/N threw her hands into her hair and tugged at her scalp.

“It’s just weed! And I bought it with my own money! It’s not like I’m doing crack!” She looked to her dad sitting in his chair in the corner of the living room, observing the whole debacle. “Dad? Help?” He gave her a look of surrender. Not my call. Her mom disappeared back into her room.

“IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” Her mom shouted as she threw another handful of clothes out the door. “AFTER ALL THE MONEY WE SPENT ON YOU AND YOU GO AND BUY DRUGS?! IT’S LIKE YOU CHOOSE TO BE MISERABLE!” Y/N pounded across the floorboards and got nose to nose with her.

“OH, I’M SO SORRY YOU HAD TO PAY TO THROW YOUR OWN DAUGHTER IN A PSYCH WARD BECAUSE NOT HAVING A NORMAL KID WAS TOO HARD FOR YOU! AND I’M SORRY YOUR HUSBAND WAS TOO PUSSY TO STOP YOU! AND YOU KNOW WHAT’S MAKING ME MISERABLE?! YOU!”

“THEN GET THE FUCK OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Her mom shoved her by the shoulders into the wall.

“FINE!” Y/N stomped to her room and grabbed her backpack, stuffing in as many necessities as she could. She threw it over her shoulder and blew past her still fuming (and still cussing) mom. “Good fucking riddance!” she shouted over her shoulder. She swiped her car keys from the bowl and slammed the front door behind her so hard she heard a line of books topple to the floor inside. The lock on the door clicked and the curtains at the front of the house were hastily drawn.

She lividly gathered her clothes and suitcase strewn about the grass and crammed them into her shitty grey Corolla wherever they could fit. She dropped into the driver's seat and ripped the car out of the driveway and down the dimly lit street.

She crashed at Jimin’s for a bit while she looked for a place. Abi was long gone by then. Back when she was at St. Joseph’s, she’d called Abi for comfort, but what she didn’t know was that she happened to be at a sleepover, and that she’d put her on speaker. It didn’t take long for Y/N to hear a muffled giggle from the other end, and it was safe to say their friendship died the second she slammed the hospital phone receiver back onto its hook.

She didn’t need her anymore. Not with Jimin coming back for high school. He begged his mom to let him go to public school so he could be with Y/N again. What managed to convince her was the impressive dance team the school boasted.

Within the first week away from home, a packet of government documents for her emancipation arrived in her parents’ mail. She was surprised to receive a phone call from her attorney the next day, saying he already received the pettily signed forms and that they’d been filed with the district court. That was it. In a few months, she would be legally on her own. Sixteen years old and on her own.

~~~

“Good. That was good. I know that wasn’t the easiest thing to say, just know that it’s a step in the right direction.”

“Whatever. Are we done?”

“I suppose.”

~~~

Y/N sat on Yoongi’s lap while she painted his hairline into a V and thickened his sideburns into a more boxy shape. His hair was slicked back and he sported a suit and bolo tie. It didn’t take much to convince him to dress as Vincent and Mia from Pulp Fiction for Halloween. She bit the inside of her red painted lips while she cleaned up the edges of his widow’s peak with a steady hand.

It was a lot weirder than Yoongi expected to see her in a wig. The silky black bob made it feel like a complete stranger was parked on his thighs. Her unbuttoned white blouse and wide-bottomed slacks the complete opposite of her usual style. The only thing about her that was the same as he always loved were her eyes. He admired the e/c orbs that flicked back and forth in concentration, oblivious of his gaze.

“I think I’m done.” She leaned back and moved his face side to side to make sure his sideburns were even. “Yeah, you're good to go.” She gave his cheek two solid pats and climbed off his lap to get her shoes. He stood from her bed and checked himself out in her full length mirror. His hair had grown out quite a bit. Long enough to brush the back of his neck when he turned his head. He didn’t think he’d like how he looked with this hair, but it was quickly growing on him.

Y/N came up from behind and wrapped her arms around his torso. She peaked her head around his shoulder to admire his look put together. “If I didn’t know a better word, I’d say you look hot right now.” He caught her eye in the mirror with a smirk as he smoothed back his hair once last time.

“I think,” He pulled her in front of him to see her reflection, “I should be the one saying that.” He slid his hands up her shirt and adjusted the black bralette hidden underneath that had been wrinkled from her hunching over him. Her skin tingled under his large, warm hands. That asshole. He did that on purpose. He dipped his head to be even with hers. “Now, we should go before I mess up that lipstick of yours.”

~~~

Jin leaned against the kitchen counter and surveyed the frat house filled with college and high school students alike. Cobwebs stretched over every corner and fog machines gave the air a dark, heavy look. He always loved throwing his annual Halloween party. It was his favorite holiday other than his birthday. Couples cutely matching, friends coordinating costumes, comedians in gag outfits, and almost every girl wearing a sexy version of what we all dressed as kids. He loved any excuse to dress up.

He wore a loose white tunic and black slacks, his defining piece was the pink and blue diamond printed coat hanging from his shoulders. Howl from, only his favorite movie ever, Howl’s Moving Castle. He watched that shit like it was his job.

“Damn, do you need a maid? I’m not an old lady, but I can cook and clean.” He spun and met a smirking Jimin. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, black tie loosened, hair tousled, and red lipstick marks trailed from his chest all the way to his cheeks. Jin eyed the scene with visible concern. “Relax, this is my costume. I have a little class.”

“Oh, thank God.” Jin laughed.

“Although some of these are courtesy of some lovely ladies here tonight.” He turned to show the words “KISS ME” written on his back in big letters.

“How did you even get them to agree to do that?” Jimin flashed a proud smile.

“It was easy. Girls aren’t threatened by me. Being part gay is great, you get the best of both worlds!” Jins phone buzzed in his pocket.

Thing 1: Me and Yoongi are about to pull up

Jin smiled at his screen and typed a quick response.

“Who’s Thing 2?” He turned to the younger looking over his shoulder.

“You.” Before Jimin could offer a rebuttal, Jungkook squeezed out of the crowd and nested at his side, beer in hand.

“There’s my Ponyboy!” Jimin gave him a slap on the back. Jungkook's hair was greased back with a single curl hanging on his forehead. His white t-shirt and jeans matched well with Yoongi’s leather jacket that he lended for the occasion. “Doesn’t he scream Ponyboy vibes?”

“I’ll admit it,” Jin added, “he does.” Jungkook took a sip of his beer to hide his embarrassment. He never liked being the center of attention.

The front door burst open to reveal Taehyung, clad in a full face of clown makeup, green hair, and a purple and yellow suit. “WHAT’S POPPIN’ ASS WIPES!!!” He marched inside and made a beeline to the three with Jiwoo in tow. Her skunk stripes were in pink and blue pigtails and her black and red corset top and tights hugged her slim figure. “GUESS WHO HAS A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND!” He laced his fingers with hers and lifted her arm triumphantly in the air. She hid her face bashfully with her free hand. Jimin gasped.

“Shut. Up. You're joking!” Tae flashed a boxy grin.

“No, I’m Joker.” Jiwoo slapped him in the arm.

“Yes, he’s for real.” She answered on his behalf. Jimin and Jin exchanged dramatic, wide-eyed looks and threw their arms around the new couple.

“We did it! He’s off the streets!”

“He’s off the streets!”

“I’m off the streets!”

Jiwoo watched the three jump in circles with their arms linked like a bunch of kids who were told they’re going to McDonald’s. Yeah, she made the right choice.

The front door opened again, not flying off the hinges this time, and Y/N stepped in with Yoongi flush against her back. She spotted the group in the kitchen and threw her arms up. “Heyyyyy!!!!” Taehyung turned with an ecstatic smile and bounded over, pulling her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Y/N GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT!”

“What?” she gasped under his grip. He dropped her and gripped her shoulders.

“I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!” Both Yoongi and Y/N’s faces lit up.

“WHAT?! TAE, OH MY GOD YOU'RE OFF THE STREETS!” She clapped her hands together giddily and threw her arms back around his neck.

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHAT EVERYONE ELSE SAID!”

“Okay, okay, break it up.” Yoongi pried the two children apart and steered them to the kitchen. On the way, he leaned into Tae’s ear and whispered, “I trust you, but I’ll say this anyway. You hurt her, I hurt you.” He snapped out of his scary tone when Jimin came and pulled Y/N into a hug and kissed both her cheeks.

“Ahh! You two look so hot together! Best couple costume ever!” Yoongi never minded how close they were. He knew about their brief fling before he came along, but he trusted her when she said it was all in the past.

Y/N’s excited squeal broke through his thoughts. She booked it for Jungkook to gush over his costume. “Kookie! You look so friggin’ cute!!” She played with the piece of hair hanging on his forehead and fixed a few loose strands. He smiled at his feet and fiddled with his jacket zipper. “Come on, gimme a spin!” He sheepishly did a 360 to give her a full look at his outfit.

“I’ll be damned,” Yoongi added, “you almost look better in that jacket than I do.” Jungkook hid his face behind his hands. He couldn’t control the big ass grin plastered on his face.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him all night!” Jimin cut in, fists on his hips. She squeezed past him and Jungkook to say hi to Jiwoo and Jin.

The eldest boy pulled her into a sweet hug, his coat draping partially over her back. He leaned back to catch her eye. “How are you? You doing okay?” Jin, ever the mom.

The truth was, she wasn’t. Her situation with the pills was getting out of hand. What started out as a party topper, became a full blown addiction. She hated the person she had become. If she didn’t get her fix, she’d turn into a monster, snapping at anyone and everyone if they rubbed her the wrong way.

The moment she realized she had a problem was when Jungkook tried to approach her at school on one of her bad days. She ended up punching her locker with enough force to turn heads. The cold, unsympathetic eyes of the complete stranger that took her place bore into him before storming off. Tears welled in his eyes and he was frozen in place. All he asked was if he could help.

She scared him, and she'd never forgive herself for it. Even after he did.

She put on her best convincing smile and patted Jin’s chest. “I’m fine, you shouldn’t be worrying about me.” He searched her eyes for a crack in the facade, but he saw none. A warm smile played on his lips and he gave her a kiss on the head before turning her loose. She immediately pivoted to Jiwoo, trying to change the subject.

“Now I’m no DC expert, but I’m pretty sure you two are from different movies.” She gestured to the couple. “Tae, I know you’re from the Dark Knight, but I've never seen Harley in this hot ass outfit before.” Jiwoo chuckled and shuffled in her knee length boots.

“I’m actually Harley from Arkham Knight, a video game. It’s my favorite look of hers.” Y/N gave her another up and down, nodding her head.

“It’s great ‘cus Harley wasn’t in The Dark Knight, so she could be any version she wanted.” Tae commented.

“Except Suicide Squad.” Jiwoo added.

“Except Suicide Squad.” He echoed. “That movie was a disgrace.”

“Hey,” Y/N slapped Jimin on the arm, “Is Hobi here yet? I need a little...” She tapped the side of her nose. He giggled and pointed to the loft on the second floor.

“He was up there last I saw him. Have at it.” She made her way back to Yoongi and went on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck.

“Go ahead and make yourself a drink. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” She said seductively in her best Mia Wallace voice. Her index and middle fingers walked up his chest and dragged across his shoulder as she walked past him.

The loft was surprisingly hard to get to being that it was clogged with partygoers. She finally managed to squeeze through and fall to the floor, her face inches from a pair of sharp-toed dress shoes. She followed the white suit up to the face peering down at her. “The floor is no place for you, Mrs. Wallace.” A hand gripped her forearm and hoisted her to her feet with ease. At the other end of the arm holding her, was Hoseok’s beaming smile. The pointed collar of his black dress shirt was folded over the lapel of his suit.

“Saturday Night Fever?” He nodded. “Yay, now I have two John Travolta’s.” She took her arm from his hold and fixed her bangs.

“I think I might know why you’re here.” He inquired

“You would be correct, sir.” He chuckled.

“Follow me.”

He led her to a couch at the edge of the loft that overlooked the sea of costumes below. There was so much smoke in the air it was impossible to tell if it came from the fog machines or someone’s lungs. They plopped onto the cushions and he went to work cutting lines on a mirror laid on the coffee table. “So how’s life?”

“Eh, I've been better.” She let herself slip a little. Talking to Hoseok was easy. She liked being able to tell him some heavier things because he never pressed for more information. He accepted what he was given and took it in stride. She leaned forward and grabbed an almost empty bottle of cherry vodka and finished it off.

“I feel ‘ya. Soccer practice is really starting to get to me. Just gotta take it day by day, my friend.” He slid the mirror to her side and handed her a rolled up bill. “Here.”

“Thank you, good sir.” She plucked the makeshift tube from his fingers and dipped her head to sniff up the pristine white line. The feeling hit her instantly. A huge smile spread across her face and her whole body felt like it was floating among the smoke clouds.

“Good?” She couldn’t find the words, so she gave him a simple thumbs up. Their moment was cut short when Taehyung’s booming voice cut through the music and conversation.

“EVERYONE! OUR BELOVED QUARTERBACK, NAMJOON KIM, IS OFFICIALLY OFF THE MARKET!”

“WHAT?!” They shouted in unison. With a quick shared look, they scrambled down the stairs and through the cheering crowd. Taehyung was standing, red cup in hand, on the thick mantle of the fireplace at the head of the room. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She mumbled as they watched Jiwoo weave through the mob to pull him down.

“There he is!” Hoseok pointed to the head of brown hair that poked above everyone else. He pulled her along behind him, using his strength to cut through the congestion. When they broke through the wall of bodies, the entire friend group was gathered on the massive sectional couch at the center of the room. She picked the couple from the cluster and her jaw dropped.

“No fucking way. Cheyenne?!”

“Yes way.” Jimin chimed. The girl in question was perched on the arm of the couch next to Namjoon. Her amber eyes lit up when she recognized Y/N standing there.

“Y/N?!” She jumped up and crashed her body into hers with a crushing embrace. “Oh my God you grew up so much!! You’re not a little shrimp anymore!”

“I haven’t seen you since what? Fifth grade?” Cheyenne’s smile flashed white against her sepia skin. They were rather close in elementary until she moved away before middle school. She was the extrovert that found her and acted almost like a mother to her. Cheyenne was the one that cracked Y/N’s shell.

“I know, girl! We moved back and I’m going to Westview!”

“Westview?! I go to Westview!” Her eyes widened.

“What?! How come I haven’t seen you at school?” Y/N chuckled.

“I make myself very hard to spot.”

“She’s right,” Yoongi added, coming to stand beside her, “took me forever to track her down to talk to her for the first time.” He handed her a solo cup of vodka cranberry and she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. Cheyenne’s hand flew to her chest.

“I’m gonna cry. My baby’s all glown up and she got herself a man!” She dramatically fanned her eyes. Her long false lashes almost reached her brows when she looked to the ceiling. Her box braids were twisted into space buns on either side of her head and her long, flowing white dress cinched at the waist and had a slit running up to reveal her muscular leg.

Y/N peaked over her shoulder at Namjoon. His long sleeved, tan v-neck and black vest made everything click. “Oh my god! Han Solo and Leia! That’s so fucking cute!”

“Can you guess whose idea it was?” Cheyenne cocked an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at him, who blushed and gave a little finger wave. What a man baby. She took her seat back by him and Y/N and Yoongi sat on the couch across from them.

“So how did you guys meet?” The couple shared a humored look.

“Remember that bloody nose I said I got in P.E. a couple weeks ago?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah?” Cheyenne proudly raised her hand.

“That was me. It was girls vs boys in dodgeball and I nailed him in the face.” Y/N would expect nothing less from her. Even in elementary, Cheyenne was the best softball player she’d ever seen. That girl had an arm like a cannon.

“She walked with me to get ice and we kinda just got to know each other along the way.”

“Awwww~” Jimin and Taehyung swooned.

“As much as I hate to break up the moment, I'm trying to get fucked up tonight.” Y/N finally said once the conversation died down. “Chey, do you,” She put her thumb and index finger to her lips and puffed on an imaginary joint, “partake?”

Cheyenne raised an eyebrow at her. She wasn’t surprised Y/N had turned to drugs. That girl had issues from the very start. “Of course I do, who the fuck do you think I am?” Smirks cracked the pair’s lips and they shared a mischievous look for the first time in a long time.

~~~

Y/N, Yoongi, Cheyenne, Namjoon and Jimin gathered on the sofa by the swimming pool filled with splashing guys and girls stripped down to their underwear. Which was insane given that it was basically November and the water was 70 degrees at most. Yoongi placed a thick blunt between his lips and flicked his Zippo lighter, casting a brief warm glow on his face. He expertly cupped his hand against the flame and got a good burn going, then snapped the lighter closed against his thigh. The blunt cherried bright orange when he took a colossal hit, letting the smoke roll out of his nose in plumes before passing it to Y/N. She gathered a thick cloud in her mouth and let it float out to inhale through her nose. The milky reverse waterfall flowed into her nostrils like a yellow tinted nebula. The THC hit her already intoxicated brain, sending her further into the couch.

Jimin took his two puffs quickly and passed it on. On her turn, Cheyenne blew a single smoke ring and ran her finger down the middle to make it a heart, sending it floating into Namjoon’s face.

“Cute.” He said sarcastically as he took the blunt from her manicured nails and drew a long hit. “I don’t know any tricks so you’re just gonna have to deal with my boring ass.”

“We’ve been dealing with your boring ass for years.” Y/N deadpanned, earning a series of laughs from the group.

The blunt made its way around the circle back to Yoongi for the third time, and it was starting to reach its end. “Have you two smoked together before?” He questioned the new couple. They looked at each other and shook their heads. “Well then,” he clapped his hands together and plucked the blunt from his lip, “it’s customary that new couples christen the relationship by shotgunning.”

“What?” Namjoon’s brows knit together in confusion.

“Come on Joon, you’ve hung around us this long and you still don’t know what shotgunning is?” Y/N spoke up. He threw his hands up in defense.

“Hey! I’ve only ever heard it mentioned. No one ever told me what it actually was!” Yoongi huffed a chuckle.

“Watch and learn.” He puffed on the blunt and trapped the smoke in his mouth. His hand went to the back of Y/N’s neck and pulled her into a kiss, slowly delivering the cloud to her lungs. They parted, and white fog poured from her lips. “Now you try.” He handed him the blunt. Namjoon pocketed a good bit in his cheeks and cupped Cheyenne’s jaw. He pressed a light kiss on her full lips, transferring the smoke to her.

“Like that?” Yoongi and Y/N gave him an approving nod with a shared smirk.

“Consider us properly christened.” Cheyenne quipped. Before anything else could be said, a guy popped out from the sliding doors leading inside.

“AYE! WE GOT JELLO SHOTS IN HERE!”

“Oh fuck yes!” Y/N lept up, not giving herself time to ride out the head-rush that blacked out her senses and made a beeline inside. Yoongi watched her stumble through the glass doors and disappear in the crowd with visible torment.

“You good?” Cheyenne’s robust voice broke through his inner turmoil.

“Yeah.” He kept his gaze on the spot he lost sight of her in, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

~~~

Six Jello shots, two shotgunned beers with Taehyung, another rip from Hoseok, and a bonus sniff of crushed oxy in the bathroom later, Y/N was completely, totally, and utterly wrecked. She had to hold onto the walls and furniture for dear life to make her way outside. It had been almost an hour since she left Yoongi, so it was about time she found him.

The pool was a little less crowded and she could see her reflection on the surface. It’s hair was wild, clothes wrinkled, lipstick faded. Stars twinkled across the ripples, drawing her gaze up to the sky. She walked along the edge of the pool as she admired the lights that dotted the heavens. Her feet stopped their ambling to match the two sets of pictures in her vision back in place. The luring abyss of the sky gave a sharp contrast to the glimmering lights. Everything in her peripheral melted into the darkness that blanketed her view, and the frigid water rushed up to meet her.

It sounded like any other splash. Yoongi didn’t think anything of it. People had been jumping in and out of the pool all night.

“Hey, wasn’t that your girlfriend?” He turned to see a random girl standing behind his seat. His brows furrowed.

“What?” She pointed behind her to the steady bubbles that rose to the surface of the water.

“She was walking on the edge and just keeled-” He rocketed out of his chair and shoved her out of the way. He stripped off his coat mid sprint and dove head first into the jarring water without a second thought.

The water blurred his vision, but he could make out Y/N’s body steadily sinking to the bottom of the pool. He kicked as hard as he could and propelled himself deeper and deeper until he could reach her. His hand gripped her fuzzy wrist and pulled her up to him. Arm around her waist, he swam towards the light with powerful strokes from his three free limbs.

They broke the surface and he swung his head side to side to rid the hair from his eyes. He hooked an elbow over the edge for support while he lugged her unconscious figure out of the water.

“What the fuck?” Taehyung stood dumbly at the sliding door looking out, joint hanging between his lips.

“Get her, get her!” Yoongi grunted. Taehyung rushed over and hooked his hands under her shoulders. With one big tug, he dragged her onto the cement. Her upper body rested in his lap while Yoongi hauled himself out of the pool and scrambled to her side. He pressed his ear to her chest, listening for a pulse in agonizing suspense. The breath he was holding exploded out of his chest when he heard the familiar beats. Taehyung held his finger under her nose.

“She’s breathing.” The adrenaline left Yoongi’s system, taking every ounce of his energy along with it. He collapsed onto his back next to her, gasping for air. The sliding door opened and closed.

“Tae? Why’d you- holy fuck!” Jiwoo came rushing to his side and looked over Y/N’s soaked frame. The black wig was long gone, leaving her h/c mane splayed on the wet cement. The water turned them into a dark mass of limp waves, dulling their natural brilliance. “What happened?!”

“Fell…” Yoongi huffed, “…didn't hear...splash.” His heaving breaths spaced out his words into incoherent fragments. By now, a few heads turned to watch the scene, but most everyone else was too drunk to notice there was even a problem. Jiwoo jumped up.

“I'll go find some towels.” She disappeared back inside and came out not long after with Jin and Jimin carrying thick, blue towels in their arms. Jin immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping it around her soaked body and hugged her to his chest like an infant.

“Is she okay?” He asked apprehensively.

“Yeah. I think so.” Taehyung answered for Yoongi, who was tweaking and on the verge of an anxiety attack. The first one in nearly two years. His heart clamped in his chest and despite the biting cold, his trembling body was drenched in sweat.

Switching to mom mode, Jin snapped his fingers at Jimin, who was staring at the scene before his wasted eyes. “Jimin, wrap Yoongi up and try to calm him down. You,” he pointed to Taehyung, “go find Jungkook. He’s the only one who’ll know if she’s actually okay.” The three, Jiwoo following Taehyung, jumped to work on their tasks.

Jimin draped the towel over his figure as best he could given he was laying flat on his back and there was no getting him to sit up. Yoongi’s eyes darted back and forth, pinballing against his peripheral in all different directions. “Yoongi? Yoongi, I need you to look at me okay?” He sandwiched his face between his hands and tried to catch his eyes. Yoongi shook his head rapidly, eyes still all over the place. “I need you to listen to me. If you can’t look at me then close your eyes.” He squeezed them shut in hopes the roaring panic in his system wouldn’t be able to find him. “I’m gonna press on your chest, and I need you to push back, okay?” He didn't show any kind of response, so Jimin went ahead. He placed both palms against his hyperventilating chest and applied a gentle pressure that compelled him to take longer breaths. “You can breathe, it's okay. Feel that pressure? That’s air filling up your chest. You’re not suffocating, you have plenty of air. You’re okay.” He repeated the affirmations like a mantra. “Deep breaths. Push against my hands for as long as you can.” His chest pressed against his hands again and again, each breath growing deeper and longer. “There you go.”

The sliding door ripped open and Taehyung had Jungkook by the elbow, all but dragging him across the ground. Jungkook yanked his arm free. “What the hell is happening?!”

“You didn’t tell him?!” Jin shouted. Jungkook’s frustration disintegrated when his eyes landed on Y/N wrapped in Jin’s arms and Jimin bent over Yoongi splayed out on the ground.

“I was in a hurry, okay?! I couldn’t think of the words!” Taehyung retorted. Jungkook pointed a shaky finger at her, flashes of a life without her sent his anxiety through the roof.

“Is...is she?”

“No, she’s not dead.” Jin answered his unasked question. “We need you to check her and see if anything’s wrong that we didn’t catch.” Thank God. He could live again.

“Why me?” A stupid question, honestly.

“Because you’re the closest thing we have to a doctor, now get your ass down there and do your thing!” Taehyung gave him an urgent nudge. Jungkook hesitantly knelt by Jin’s side. It almost felt wrong seeing her in such a vulnerable state.

“U-uh...okay. You found a good pulse, right?”

“Yeah, but you need to be the judge of that.” He swallowed hard and pressed two fingers to her neck. “Well?”

“Her pulse is fine, and from the looks of it, her brain is getting enough oxygen.” He pointed at her lips, which were coming back to a healthy peach. “If she wasn’t, her lips and fingernails would be blue.”

“Is she okay?” Yoongi’s raspy voice was barely audible over the din of the party. Jimin managed to wrap the towel around him and his breath was nearing back to normal. The occasional twitch jolted his muscles from the lingering bad high.

“Yeah, just keep her warm and she’ll be fine.” Yoongi’s head fell back against the ground in relief. “Just make sure she stays on her side all night so she doesn’t aspirate.”

“Aspirate?” Jimin inquired.

“Suffocate on her own vomit.”

“Christ. That doesn’t happen a lot does it?” Taehyung asked.

“Enough to have a word for it.”

The door slid open yet again and out came Namjoon, Cheyenne, and Hoseok. “Jiwoo told us what happened. Are you sure she’s okay?” Hoseok spoke first.

“Jungkook said she should be.” Jin replied. “I’m gonna take her home and watch her for the night. Just in case.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Namjoon carried Y/N in his arms to Jin’s car and laid her down in the backseat, taking care that she was propped on her side. Yoongi and Jin came to the car soon after, the latter carrying a hastily packed duffle bag.

“Yoongi, sit with her in the back and keep her from rolling over.” Jin ordered. The younger gladly climbed into the backseat and readjusted her head on his lap. Jin dropped into the driver's seat and hooked an elbow over his rolled down window. “Joon, I trust you can handle things while I’m gone. I might not live here, but it’s still my party so make sure everyone gets the fuck out by 6.” Namjoon gave him two thumbs up and headed inside when Jin started the car.

~~~

Jin slid his copy of Y/N’s house key into the lock, and the deadbolt snapped open. He pushed the door in for Yoongi, who was carrying her up the steps. The clock on the microwave read 3:45. Surprisingly early for leaving a frat party. “I’m gonna change her into some dry clothes.” Yoongi said.

“Okay, make sure you guy’s hair is dry so you don’t catch a cold.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and disappeared into her bedroom. Jin helped himself to the closet of sheets and blankets and grabbed a pillow from the bottom shelf. Once he was happy with the nest he made on the couch, he slipped in the tiny guest bathroom to wash his face, change, and take his meds. High blood pressure. His mom always said it ran in the family.

A few minutes later, he emerged in a pair of Totoro pajama pants and a grey t-shirt. He eyed the kitchen cabinet that was always stocked with ramen. Yoongi’s gonna be starving when he’s done with her. He set out a pot on the stove and grabbed three packages from the cabinet. “Hey Yoongs,” he padded to her doorway, “I’m making ramen do you want beef or-” His voice quieted when he peeked inside and saw them both in bed. He’d changed her into one of his hoodies and tied her hair in a bun. He laid behind her, arms seatbelting her to his torso, fast asleep. Without context, it was a heartwarming scene. Jin's lips formed a small smile and he eased the door shut, careful not to wake him. “Goodnight guys~”

He plopped onto the couch and plugged his phone into the charger that ran across the floor to reach the coffee table. The second his head hit the pillow he felt himself being pulled under by the current of sleep. He wondered to himself, what was going on in Y/N’s head that was so bad she nearly died just to get away from. She’d never lost control like that before. At least not bad enough for Yoongi to have a whole anxiety attack over. Whatever it was, he prayed it was nothing too horrible because he knew no matter how much he’d try to help, there was no getting anything out of her. That scared him. Hell, it terrified him not two hours ago. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being, and let his lids droop until sleep overtook him.

~~~

NOVEMBER 9TH

“Haaaaappy Biiiirthdayyyy tooo youu~! Haaappy Birthdaaayy tooooo youuuuu~! Happy Biiirthday dear Yoongiiiiiiii~!” The birthday boy buried his face in his hands out of sheer embarrassment while the group drunkenly sang around the cake in front of him. “Happy Birthdayyy toooooo yooouuuuuuuuuu~!” A birthday party, his worst nightmare. He was never one for birthdays, his family didn’t have the money for that kind of luxury. Every year, his dad would just gift him a pack of cigarettes, grab him by the collar, and give the same drunken speech about how he needs to toughen up if he’s gonna survive in the real world. Y/N carded her fingers through his hair to get it out of his face.

“Make a wish, Yoongi.” Her gentle touch was enough to coax him back to reality. He lifted his face from his hands and studied the three joints stuck into the frosting as candles. He thought for a minute then leaned in and blew the tiny flames out in one breath. Their cheers bounced off the old, bare walls of the abandoned house. Everyone was there, even Cheyenne.

“Finally!” Taehyung and Hoseok pounced on the cake and plucked off the “candles” before ash fell on the frosting. The cake was white with colorful piping on the edges and pink flowers dotting the sides. It was obviously for a kid, which was most likely the reason Y/N and Jiwoo chose it. The room quickly filled with wispy clouds of smoke courtesy of Tae, Hobi, Jimin, and Cheyenne.

“Holy shit!” Cheyenne’s hand flew to her mouth to cover her grin and pointed at Yoongi and Y/N.

“What?” She asked.

“Yoongi’s 18 now! You guys can’t fuck!” Y/N turned bright red and hid her face behind her hands.

“2 months, 17 days and...” Yoongi checked the time on his phone, “10 hours.” He sighed. The time until her 18th birthday. She got held back a year in kindergarten after a nasty case of pneumonia. So, technically, she should’ve been a senior by now. But then she never would’ve met Jimin. Or Cheyenne for that matter.

Y/N leaned her cheek on her fist and observed the spectacle. Her natural smile slowly faded, and corners of her lips grew heavier and heavier. She could feel the curtain of despair lowering over her, suffocating the enjoyment out of the otherwise jubilant moment. The all too familiar mentality settled in her mind that she’d never be happy again, or see life as anything more than some sick joke. Not now. Not now, not now please… She tried to keep it together for everyone’s sake, but the tears were coming any second now.

Under the cover of the noise, she slipped away and into the bathroom on the other side of the house. She eased the door shut with a tiny click. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. The harder she pressed her lips together, the wetter her eyes became. She leaned against the sink, staring into the abyss of the rusty drain. Five hours. Five hours of sobriety and she was already a sobbing mess. She tried. She really did. She wanted to be sober for Yoongi’s birthday so she’d have the memories and not need to rely on pictures and stories the next day. Her and what little self preservation she had left were fighting a war against her demons. And she was losing. Five hours would soon turn to four, then three, then... She stopped from scaring herself any further.

She hurriedly fished out two Zoloft tablets from her black skinny jeans pocket. The bulge of the baggie was covered by her oversized, snow white sweater. Using her phone case to crush them and credit card to scrape the dust into a neat line, she bent down and snorted the powder in one quick sniff. Her head jerked up and she stared at the person in the mirror. Slowly but surely, her face relaxed, her smile returned, and everything felt okay again. She wiped the runny mascara from under her eyes and stepped out to return to the joyful madness.

~~~

DECEMBER

The heated architect’s office provided a welcome contrast to the biting cold outside. Y/N sat behind the receptionist desk, filing the last of a client’s paperwork so she could finally leave. Everyone else had left for the day, leaving her the task of locking everything up. After her emancipation, Jimin’s mom couldn’t have offered her a job at her office fast enough. Hell, she even offered for her to live with them permanently. The work was boring, but it paid better than any other part-time job ever would.

“Y/N!” Jimin quacked from the employee lounge down the hall. He’d tagged along after school to study for midterms with her in the downtime.

“WHAT!”

“ARE YOU DONE YET?!”

“ALMOST!” Were they yelling louder than necessary? Probably, their dynamic accepted nothing less. He popped his head around the corner, his body following suit. There wasn’t anything good to raid from the fridge, so he had nothing else to do but watch her lock up.

The phone on her desk rang, breaking the silence. “Fuck a duck! Do people not pay attention to business hours?!” She huffed aggressively and ripped the receiver off the hook. “Mijeong Park’s office, this is Y/N, how can I help you?” Her voice took a hard right to a bright, singsongy tone, and he had to bite his lip to not laugh. Hearing her speak in such a way he knew she hated brought him pure joy. On busy days it was like watching two personalities fight over their host. “Oh, I’m sorry she just left. Would you like to leave a message?” She grabbed a pen and jotted something down on a sticky note. “Uh-huh. Mhm...Alright, thank you!” She hung up and her face immediately fell back to its usual resting bitch face. She slipped on her coat and threw her messenger bag on her shoulder. “Okay, let’s go.”

~~~

The euphoric ring of the bell signaling that school was over washed over Y/N’s senses. She did it. Midterms were over. Granted, she didn’t study that hard, so she wasn’t expecting the best results. Oh well. C’est la vie. Now all she had was another week before winter break and she was home free.

Yoongi had work, Jimin had dance, Namjoon had football, Jungkook was with his family, and pretty much everyone else seemed to be busy when she texted each one to hang out. Whatever. She’d treat herself to something special.

The clock on her nightstand read 8:50 by the time Y/N stepped out of the steamy bathroom. She did everything; shave, exfoliate, lotion, face mask, hair mask. She scrunched her hair with a t-shirt until the curls were almost dry, leaving the rest of the water to soak into her roots. Yoongi’s Kendrick Lamar hoodie with the word “DAMN.” across the chest in big red letters kept her warm in the chilly apartment. She never used the heat system. It was cheaper and more comfortable to just bundle up. Her black sweatpants had the RIPNDIP cat giving the one finger salute on the side of one of the legs. There was no contest. They were her favorite pair.

The only light that filled her room was from the moon that poured through her open blinds. Long black shadows were projected over the space, giving it a strange yet aesthetically pleasing contrast. She shimmied under her bed to grab the shoe box shoved to the very back against the wall and tossed it on the bed. She climbed onto the mattress and sat legs crossed. The box was full of various paraphernalia she’d collected over the years. Digging to the very bottom, she pulled out a tiny baggie with two white tablets. They were bought a few weeks ago, but had been saved for a special occasion such as this.

She’d always been interested in trying Fentanyl. Just once. To satiate her curiosity. The pills crushed into power nicely. She cut and scraped a small line -- much smaller than the usual line of coke -- on her makeup mirror. This stuff was fifty times stronger than heroin. She wasn’t a complete idiot. Come on.

The line stared back up at her with a silent urgency. Now or never. She put the straw to her nose and snorted up the dust.

She waited.

Nothing.

She waited some more.

Still nothing.

A frustrated huff left her and she reached for her phone to cuss out the plug who had the audacity to sell her fake shit.

She reached for the phone.

The phone.

Get the phone.

Get the fucking phone.

Her mind completed the action time and time again but her body moved at a snail's pace. The last of her strength gave out and she collapsed onto the bed, only to realize, she’d been laying down the whole time. Woah.

A sedated smile spread ear to ear and a string of lazy, incoherent giggles made her diaphragm flutter. At that moment, the entire world shut the fuck up, and she was alone. Truly alone. It was just her inside her head. No depression, no anxiety, no trauma, no mommy issues. Nothing. Just her. It was like walking around in an empty mall. She had the entire world to herself. You know what would be great right now? Music.

She inched for her headphones.

Didn’t move.

She tried to focus on that singular action as hard as she could.

Didn’t move.

Okay...this isn’t really funny anymore.

She tried again.

Her muscles didn’t even flinch.

Tears pricked her eyes and her back broke into a cold sweat. Panic began to make its entrance as her eyes darted around the room for something, anything, that could help her. Her lungs struggled to replenish her oxygen leaving her chest in agony. She regressed back to the terrified, helpless little girl that she ran so far to lose.

She almost didn’t hear the knock at her door over the internal cacophony. She tried to listen for it to happen again. Maybe she was just hearing things. Sure enough, another knock split through the roaring static in her ears. Help! Please Dear God! I'm here! I’M IN HERE!

“Y/N?”

Jungkook.

Oh shit. No. No, no, no, no! Anyone but him!

“Y/N?” Every emotion that she’d freed herself from was dumped over her head like a bucket of ice water when, out of the corner of her eye, the door eased open. Jungkook’s silky head of black hair reflected the moonlight streaming through her window. He almost didn’t spot her from the glare. “Y/N? Are you okay? I felt bad that you were alone today, so I thought I’d stop by and check on you...” She made a barely audible, unintelligible sound. Attempting to raise her voice above a teensy whisper was an exercise in futility. His heart sank at her response. “Oh, you’re in the middle of something. I-I’ll just come back tomorrow.” He turned back around. Wait! No! Please don’t go! Forget what I said earlier! Help me please!

“..d-n’t g-o…” She scraped all the energy left in her body — from the top of her head to the tips of her toes — to say those two words.

Jungkook turned and stared at her stagnant figure. Wow. She must be really high. “Alright, come here.” He sat on the bed next to her and helped her sit up. Her head rested on his shoulder. His arm was the sole thing keeping her upright. He took a deep breath and thought about what he planned on telling her when he got there. He might as well practice now since she wouldn’t remember anyway.

“So uh...about me being with my family… That was a lie.”

“Mmm..?”

“I went on a date. Well, not really, but I really like her and I think she might like me too..” His cheeks blushed a little at the thought. “She’s a great friend, so if it doesn’t work out I hope we still have that.” He grew more confident with his words the more he talked about her. “I think you’d like her. She smokes weed and stuff for pain, but she does it recreationally too.” Her silence finally caught his attention after the mention of weed. He giggled a little. “Did you fall asleep?” When he turned to look down at her, she slipped past his shoulder and slumped onto the bed. The impact of the mattress didn’t stir her in the slightest. “Y/N?”

He shook her shoulder.

Nothing.

He shook harder, the familiar fear germinating in the pit of his stomach.

“Y/N?”

Nothing.

Fear festered into horror as each attempt failed. Tears blinded him while he turned her on her back and roughly patted her cheeks. “Y/N?! Y/N, wake up!” His heart dropped past his stomach and onto the floor. Her lips and fingernails had turned an unhealthy shade of indigo and her breathing was dangerously shallow. No. This wasn’t real. It had to be a nightmare. It had to be. “Please wake up!!” He couldn’t stop saying her name in hopes that it would somehow magically awaken her. Her declining state said otherwise.

“Don’t leave me!” He pulled her onto the floor and straddled her hips, pulling his phone out to dial 911 in the process. His hands lined up with one another over her heart and jumped into action pumping her heart for her.

“Just stay with me! Please!”

“Blood oxygen at 60%!”

Jungkook had to be ripped from Y/N’s body as the team of EMTs swarmed around her. One of them lifted her lid with a gloved finger and flashed a penlight in her eye.

“Pupils are constricted! I need 2mg of Narcan!”

He was shoved out of her room and forced to watch from the doorway while the first responders stuck her with needle after needle. They slipped an oxygen mask over her lifeless face. The world seemed to slow with every jagged breath he took. His eyes unfocused and his hearing grew fuzzy except for the faint sound of his hammering heart. All was quiet in the eye of the storm. Then, the air left. Every atom of oxygen was sucked from the world with no regard for his existence. He fell to his knees gripping his throat and chest, his lungs screaming for air.

“..........d!……..id!……..Hey, kid!” He was snapped back to reality when large hands pressed into his shoulders. He darted his red, watery eyes to the paramedic restraining him to the floor. “You need to calm down!” His kicking, screaming and crying had been silenced by the ringing in his ears. A sharp pinch pricked his side and before long, he stilled as a wave of serenity washed over him. It was like someone flipped his off switch.

“What… what did you give me..?”

“Just some Valium to help you relax.” He felt his body sink into the floor, being pulled further into the abyss of slumber. He fought his lids open despite their growing weight, but it was no use. They drooped closed and all the chaos and fear gave way to darkness.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital pierced Jungkook’s lids pulling him back into consciousness. He was stretched out on a firm sofa with a simple heart monitor clipped to his fingertip in what looked like an ICU room. The soft beeping of an EKG drew his attention to the bed next to him. He got to his feet as fast as he could with the Valium still lingering in his system and raced to Y/N’s bedside. The bittersweet excitement of getting to see her went completely sour when he took in her state. She’d never looked so frail and delicate before. Dark circles sunk in her eyes with rings of yellow on their border giving the illusion of two black eyes. Her lips were chapped and bleeding. Countless tubes and IVs protruded from her body which only stressed the severity of her condition further. Yet, despite her broken appearance, she never looked so peaceful.

“Good. You’re up.” He spun around. The voice came from a doctor standing in the doorway clipboard in hand. “I’m Dr. Lobrano, I’m the one in charge of your friend’s case.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s stable, but the stress overload caused her to slip into a coma so her body can heal itself to its full extent.” Jungkook’s face paled. “Now, I’m not saying it’s 100%, but most opioid coma patients wake up and make a full recovery. Physically, that is.” “How long will that take?” He took in a calculating breath.

“It’s hard to say. It could take three days or three weeks. Every case is different” His heart sank for the nth time that night. He looked over his shoulder at her motionless figure under the sheets. The only thing that told she was even alive was the soft, steady beep of the EKG. He could hardly bear to look at her. It was like seeing Superman fall from the sky. She was his Superman. Whether she believed it or not didn’t matter because it was true. “I hate to bother you during such a stressful time,” he pulled a pen out of his pocket protector, “but I need you to answer a few questions about our friend over there.” He pointed the end of the pen at her.

“U-um, okay.” Dr. Lobrano took a seat in the chair facing the sofa which Jungkook had retaken his seat on. He clicked the pen against his knee and held it at the ready.

“Next of kin?”

“Her parents, but she’s emancipated.” He nodded and silently jotted something on his clipboard.

“Siblings?”

“No.” He looked up.

“Extended family?” Jungkook opened mouth to answer when he realized -- she didn’t. She had no one. From what he’d caught over the years he knew her mom was an only child and her dad’s only brother died when he was in college. No aunts, no uncles, no cousins. No one.

“Not that I can think of. No.”

“Okay...any other significant relationships? We need someone to sign off on her paperwork and consent forms in case anything happens.”

“But it won’t, right?” He clicked his pen.

“As a medical professional, I’m legally obligated to tell my patients and their loved ones the truth. And the truth is, your friend over there took an almost lethal dose of Fentanyl. And with her age and weight? I consider myself a man of science, but that’s a miracle if I ever saw one. However, just because she made it past those first critical hours doesn’t mean there’s zero risk of other complications that may arise later on.” Jungkook nodded, trying to take in the information as stoically as possible. He didn’t want the doctor to see how he really felt on the inside.

“How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen, sir.”

“Do you have anyone you can call who’s at least eighteen that can sign for her?”

“Yeah, her…boyfriend” The weight of his circumstances hit him like a bus. The thought of anyone else hadn’t even crossed his mind until now. How the hell was he supposed to tell Yoongi that the only person keeping his life together was in a coma from almost killing herself?

“Then I suggest you give him a call as soon as possible, and if you don’t have any other questions I should finish making my rounds.” He gave a distant nod and was left alone with Y/N once again. His eyes were drawn back to the subtle rise and fall of her chest. A long sigh of anguish left his lips and he buried his face in his hands.

“What am I gonna do?”

~~~

Jungkook stared at Yoongi’s contact in his phone. His thumb hovered over the call button. He knew he was about to hurt him worse than anyone ever has in his life. It was going to kill him. He forced his thumb down on the screen. The dial tone counted down the seconds before the heartbreak. It stopped after three rings.

“Hello?”

“....”

“Kook?”

“Yoongi…” His voice began to quiver, “Yoongi, something bad happened.”

~~~

Jiwoo laid in bed on her stomach with her feet swishing in the air. She held her phone to her ear with her shoulder while she painted her nails their usual black chrome. “You should listen to Never Know by Bad Omens. I bet you’d like it.”

“You think?” Taehyung’s voice came from the other end. Before she could answer, she heard Yoongi in the living room on the phone.

“Woah, woah, calm down. What happened?” Silence.

“Jiwo-?”

“Sh!” The silence stretched for a good four seconds. She jumped when Yoongi came barreling down the hall to his room like a bat out of Hell and came back out with his jacket slung over his arm. The front door opened and slammed shut. Within seconds, his car peeled out of the driveway. The roar of his engine quickly dissipated in the distance.

~~~

Jungkook bounced his knee in anticipation. It had been almost ten minutes since he called Yoongi and there was still no sign of him. He was beginning to worry something might’ve happened to him on the way when the door swung open sending the doorknob colliding into the wall. Jungkook shot up and immediately broke down in tears when he laid eyes on Yoongi’s familiar face. Yoongi rushed to catch his crumpling body and hugged his head to his chest. Jungkook sobbed like he never sobbed before. Every emotion he’d kept bottled up since the moment he found her in her room spilled out onto Yoongi’s grey hoodie.

His heart — along with every other function in his body — stopped when he saw Y/N. She’d never looked so broken and it tore at his insides to even look at her. It didn’t feel natural. It didn’t feel real. There was no way this was the girl he loved.

When Jungkook’s cries diminished to a sniffle, Yoongi gingerly took him off his chest and approached her bedside. He tentatively placed his hand over her cold one. IV needles were sunken into each of her wrists and one on the back of her hand. He drew a shuddery breath. “What-....what did she take?”

“Fentanyl.” Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut trying not to dwell on it.

“Is she gonna be okay?” He knew it was a stupid question. Of course Jungkook couldn’t answer that.

“I don’t know.” Jungkook muttered.

“Did they say when she’d wake up?” Jungkook winced at his question. He must’ve been in shock to assume she even would.

“Yoongi,” the older turned to face him, “Y/N’s in a coma.”

~~~

Yoongi and Jungkook stayed the night in the spacious ICU room with Jungkook passed out on his little couch and Yoongi pulled up a chair next to Y/N’s bedside. He stayed awake all night watching her. It wasn’t that he thought something would happen if he fell asleep, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave her. Even if he may have still physically been there.

Breaking the news to everyone the next day was hard. Hearing their reactions over the phone was harder. ICU patients were only allowed to have three visitors per day —excluding Yoongi—so he was forced to decide who would get to see her first. He decided to just go by age.

Jimin and Taehyung arrived within five minutes of getting the call. Yoongi was waiting outside her room when the two came flying down the hall. They skidded to a stop and Yoongi had to hold them back with his palms against their chests. “Hold on, hold on. You can’t see her just yet.”

“Fucking why not?!” Taehyung shouted.

“Yeah, what the hell?” Jimin added.

“The doctor said that it helps to talk to coma patients, so we’re taking turns visiting her alone. Jungkook’s in there right now.”

~~~

Jungkook sat in Yoongi’s chair beside the hospital bed. His fists balled against his knees trying to think of something to say.

“Y/N…..I’m…. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took your pills. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I watched this happen and didn’t get you help.” Tears pooled in his eyes. “I’m so sorry...You're my hero Y/N….You probably don’t think so, but if I never met you...” He choked, “I don’t-...I don’t think I’d be alive right now.” His lips quivered trying to form the words. He’d never said anything like that out loud before. “You’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m not alone. I’ve never felt more loved and wanted than when I’m with you. You’re the strongest person I know. You always make sure I get all of my work done and eat right even when you can barely take care of yourself. It sounds useless, but it’s those reminders that reassure me that someone actually cares. If you go I-...I don’t know what I’m gonna do. But it’s not gonna be anything good.” He put his head down on her thigh and cried. “I need you, Y/N. I need you so much it hurts.”

~~~

The three in the hall jumped to their feet when the door finally opened, and Jungkook stepped out. His eyes and nose were puffy and red from hours of stop and start tears. Jimin pulled him into a soft hug which he gratefully accepted. “Okay Tae, you’re next.” Yoongi said. Taehyung thought for a second.

“No. Jimin should go. He’s known her longer than I have.” Yoongi looked from Taehyung to Jimin who looked up in surprise.

“That’s fine.” He said. Jimin gave Taehyung a thankful look and entered the room.

He drew a hard breath when he saw her. Her hospital gown washed away the color of her cheeks that once gave her a youthful glow. “Oh, Y/N…” He put his hand to his heart and sat down. “What happened to you?” The dark circles under her eyes popped against the blank canvas of her face. He slipped his hand under hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “You can’t be doing this to yourself. You scared me. You scared us.”

He spent a long time just looking at her in silence. He couldn’t find a way to put his emotions into words. “God, you’re so gorgeous. Even when you're wearing a paper gown with bags that rival a panda’s.” He reached and twirled a piece of her hair in his fingers — something he did a lot when they relaxed together. Her usual bouncy coils laid in dull, limp waves against her shoulders. “You almost left me. You can’t do that, because you’re stuck with me. And there’s nothing you can do to change that. Wherever you go, I’ll follow, whatever you do, I’ll copy. We’re in this together, so your ass better wake up so we can fuck shit up until we’re old and grey, scaring kids on Halloween together.” He giggled, but it slowly turned to whimpers. He wiped tears from his cheeks with his sleeves. “You’re my best friend, N/N. I don’t know if I can handle it if you go.” He took a sniffly breath. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you. Even if it was in different ways, but I always have.” He sniffed and his voice cracked under the emotion. “You deserve the world, you deserve someone who loves you the way I know you should be loved. That’s why I was so happy when you met Yoongi, because I knew he was perfect for you. He worships you, Y/N, kisses the ground you walk on. And I can rest easy knowing you’re in the best possible hands. Don’t worry about me though, I’m happy loving you in any way I can.” Tears patted on the bed sheets when he leaned in to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. “Please come back to us.”

~~~

An hour passed, and Jimin emerged from the room. “Finally! I was starting to regret giving up my turn.” Taehyung stood. Jimin and Jungkook held hands and Yoongi stripped his leather jacket off. The extra layers were starting to get to him. He looked up and saw Taehyung still standing there.

“What are you lookin’ at me for?”

“C-can I go now?” Yoongi chuckled a little.

“Of course you can.”

~~~

It took a while for Taehyung to eventually gravitate to the chair beside her. He mainly stood near the door and stared at her for the first five minutes. Another twenty went by of him just sitting in the chair with his hands clasped between his knees. “Listen uh...I’m not good at this whole sentimental thing, so if it’s true that coma patients remember what they hear, don’t judge. I know I get on your nerves a lot and tease you, but I do it ‘cus that’s just how I show love.” He looked down. “Truth is, you’re like a sister to me, Y/N. I always wanted an older sister to annoy, and when I met you it felt like I’d found my missing piece. Nobody in my life ever stays long, but you’re the one constant that I could hang on to. No matter which girl left me or friends I lost, I knew I could always count on you to be there, ready to go along with whatever I wanted.” He chuckled at the tears brimming in his eyes. “Look at this shit. You got me cryin’.” He roughly wiped his eyes with the collar of his hoodie. “Well, that’s my spiel. Wake up soon. I need somebody to roll their eyes at my jokes again.” He stood and wiped his palms on his sweats. His fingers twitched at his side as he peered down at her. Hesitantly, he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “Get better, sis.”

~~~

The next day was Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin’s turn. Namjoon, unsurprisingly, got there at the exact time Yoongi texted him to. He came in carrying a to-go cup of coffee with the Starbucks logo on the sleeve. Immediately, he pulled Yoongi into a quick hug before he could protest. “Here, I know you’re not sleeping.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi took it with a small smile. Namjoon wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t slept a wink since he got there, and it was starting to show. His raven hair hung in glossy clumps and he was starting to develop his own set of dark circles. “You can go in whenever you’re ready.”

Namjoon stepped in and closed the door gently behind him. “Hey, N/N.” He sighed and took a seat in the chair that he dwarfed with his long legs. “I know you probably could care less, but I’m gonna take care of your homework for you until you get out of this. That is, if you don’t wake up by Monday. Anyway, uh, Cheyenne couldn’t make it. She’s at a tournament in Las Vegas, but she sends her love. Maybe when you wake up, you can FaceTime her. She’s really worried about you, y’know. Even if you guys haven’t seen each other for years.” He gazed at her almost as if he was waiting for her to respond. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Normally, I always know what to say, but….with you there’s just so much to be said I can’t think straight, so I thought,” he fished a small book out of his coat pocket, “I’d read you some poetry instead. I know the guys have probably talked your ear off, so it should be a nice break from it all.” He cracked open the book to one of the pages he’d marked with a sticky note. “I’ll start with this one, since I know it’s your favorite.”

Life is unpredictable,

It changes with the seasons,

Even your coldest winter,

Happens for the best of reasons,

And though it feels eternal,

Like all you’ll ever do is freeze,

I promise spring is coming,

And with it, brand new leaves.

- Erin Hanson

~~~

Hoseok was already in the hallway when Namjoon finished up. “How’d it go?” He showed him the book in his hand.

“Just some reading. She always likes that.” Hoseok gave him a nod and circled around him to take his place.

He took a seat and rested his elbows on the mattress. “Hey...God, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to do this. I’m not used to one sided conversations.” He gave a tiny chuckle. “I was a mess when I heard about your accident...I mean, Fentanyl, Y/N? Fentanyl?? I know how bad that shit’s reputation is and when I heard you ODed on it, I was certain you were dead. It took five minutes for Yoongi to calm me down and say you were alive.” He eyed all the tubes and machines she was hooked up to. “Although it doesn’t really look like it….Fuck you scared me, Y/N. Don’t you ever do that again.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You hear me? You’re the only one who knows how bad my coke problem really is. In fact, no one else even knows I’m bipolar. Only you. Because you’re the only person I feel comfortable talking about it with. So please, don’t scare me like that again. I don’t expect you to come out of this clean as a whistle. Hell, I don’t even expect you to stop snorting your prescriptions. That’s why we need each other. We can work on ourselves together. I know you’ll wake up. I just know it. And I’ll be waiting with a big ass bag of all your favorite candy and movies when you do. So, you just focus on healing that body of yours and get back to us as soon as you can.” He gave her a kiss on the hand and another on her forehead. “Love ‘ya.”

~~~

Yoongi eyed the book Namjoon had set on one of the chairs lining the hall. He picked it up and leafed through it. “Hey, Joon?”

“Yeah?”

“You think I can borrow this for a bit?” He looked over to see what he was talking about.

“Yeah, of course.” Yoongi continued to flip through the pages when Hoseok stepped out and shut the door behind him. His eyes were misty and his voice was a little nasally.

“That was a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be.” He scanned the hallway. “Is Jin coming?”

“He’s coming around six after he gets off work.” Yoongi said, not looking up from the poem he was in the middle of.

“Oh, okay. Well, I have practice later so I’ll try to come visit again as soon as I can.” Hoseok gave each of them a hug and took his leave.

“I can stick around if you want, Yoongi.” Namjoon offered.

“No, no. I’m okay. There’s really not much you can do here. I’ll call you if anything comes up.” He stood again and Namjoon gave him another parting hug. “Thanks for the book, by the way.”

“No problem. I’ll see you later.”

Yoongi took his spot in the chair by Y/N’s bed and delved back into his book. As he went along, he wrote poems that reminded him of her on the hospital stationary from the bedside table. He didn’t read them aloud. He found it hard to believe that talking would actually help. His life hadn’t been fortunate enough for him to believe in anything more than cold, hard facts. He wasn’t one for talking anyway, and he knew neither was she.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until Jin came knocking with a duffel bag in his hand. “Who’s that for?” Yoongi asked.

“You.” Jin said as he tossed it at him. He dropped the book and caught it against his chest. “Now go shower while I talk to my baby because I know you haven’t. You don’t want Y/N to wake up and have you smelling like ass.” He had him there. He stood up with a sigh and took the duffel to the connecting bathroom.

Jin turned and felt his heart sink at the sight of her. It hurt to see her like this and not be able to do anything to help. “I hope you’re feeling okay in there.” He sat on the edge of the bed by her thigh. “I can’t stay as long as I’d hoped, so I’ll have to make this quick. I know you probably don’t want me boo-hooing over you, so I’ll try to keep the tears to a minimum.” He rubbed the smooth tape securing the IV in her hand. “I’ll never forget that time I found you curled up on the floor, in the middle of your living room, so depressed you couldn't walk. I had to bathe you and tuck you in bed. I even fed you soup even though you said you could do it yourself.” He smiled softly. “I know I have to take care of you sometimes when you can’t do it yourself. And that’s okay. It’s okay to ask for help every once in a while. That’s my job. We always joke about how I’m your guys’ momma, but it’s true. You’re the reason I realized how much I want to be a dad one day. Believe me, if I could take care of you for the rest of my life I would, but I don’t think you’d care for that too much.” A small tear slipped past his guard and dripped down his cheek. “Sorry,” he wiped it away, “but you can’t blame me. I’m worried about you, Y/N. I don’t know what drove you to do this, but I know you tried your hardest to fight it.” He squeezed her hand. “I want you to know that I’m not mad, I’m not disappointed. You were trying to take your pain away. I just wish you could’ve told me how much you were suffering. Even if you want to spare me the stress and heartbreak of it all, I’d rather know you're in pain so maybe I can help you. Please don’t hide like that again. I need my little gremlin around to give me grey hairs before I hit thirty.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the head. “And you’re worth every single one.”

The door to the bathroom opened and Yoongi stepped out rubbing a towel over his hair. “Sorry, I tried to take as long as possible.”

“It’s fine, I need to be going anyway.” Jin stood and gave Y/N one last glance. “I’ll be waiting for you, kiddo.” He turned to Yoongi. “You gonna be okay here by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Have you talked to her yet?” Yoongi paused. “You should. Even if you think it doesn’t do anything, you’d be surprised what comes out.” With that, he took his jacket off the chair and closed the door behind him.

~~~

The clock read 11:50 by the time Yoongi finished his book. He set it on the bedside table with a sigh. Over a dozen notes were taped to the railing in a long line of comforting messages. It was surprising how much it helped him take his mind off the worst. But now, he had nothing to do but wait. He let out another long sigh. “I’m sorry I haven’t talked much. It’s just hard not being able to hear your voice...I figured if I tried to say anything I’d fucking lose it, but it feels like I already am.” He rested his forehead in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus...what am I gonna do? If you go, I don’t know what I’m gonna do to myself. It scares me...One of the nurses told me you’d be going to a better place, but I don’t care if you’re going to a better place, I need you here.” He sniffed. “And I know that’s wrong, but I need you in this shitty ass world because I can’t survive without you.” He tried to blink the brimming tears out of his eyes, but it was no use. “There’s no one else in the world I’d rather be with than you. I don’t know how you made me like this, but I don’t ever want to change. I love you. I love you so fucking much I don’t know what to do with myself. I love the little things about you the most. I love that one curl that you hate because it goes the wrong way, how you’re not afraid to eat twice as much as me, how you grab my shirt in your sleep, how you walk in the grass with a flashlight during the summer so you don’t step on any frogs.”

The steady beep of the EKG was the only response he got. “Please don’t leave me. Please? No one’s ever made me feel this good before. And if you leave...if you-...” His head sank as he tried to hold back his tears. “It’s just- It’s easier to smile with you because when I look at you, I can feel it. And I-I look at you and I-....I’m home….Please, I don’t want that to go away.”

~~~

Yoongi didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up with his head resting against Y/N’s hip. He blinked away his sleepiness and tried to read the clock. 6:20. He groaned. Stayed awake two nights in a row and didn’t even get so much as six hours. Despite his suspicions, he did feel a lot better having talked to her. It seemed to bring her a little closer to him in these God awful times.

She was looking better. The dark circles were fading and the color was returning to her lips. It lifted his spirits to see she was visibly healing. He called Namjoon to bring him another poetry book. The stuff was really starting to grow on him. Of all people.

Other than a visit from Jungkook, Jiwoo, and Jimin, the day was pretty uneventful. A few nurses came in to take her vitals and stretch her joints, but he wouldn’t necessarily consider that an event.

“Here’s a good one.” Yoongi leaned forward in his chair for her to hear.

I don’t think you will

Ever fully understand

How you touched my life

And made me who I am.

You are the keeper of my dreams,

The man who holds my heart,

The one I want to spend my life with,

The one with whom I will always stand.

Stand beside through thick and thin

Through all that life throws our way

Knowing that this special love we share

Will guide us each and every day.

I don’t think you could ever feel

All the love I have to give,

And I’m sure you never realize

You’ve been my will to live.

- Stephanie Schiavone

~~~

The light of dawn shone through the thin curtains that billowed in the breeze coming from the open balcony door, casting the spacious bedroom in a golden glow. Yoongi shifted under the white, linen sheets and stretched out his spine like a cat. He cracked an eye open and took in the view of Y/N’s bare back on the other side of the bed. The fabric only came up to her hips and was pulled around to her chest with her sleeping hands. Her hair swept over the entire pillow scattering her curls every which way.

He ghosted his knuckle down her spine and back up again, repeating the action until her slender shoulders stirred. She let out a small, airy groan and dug herself further into the mattress. Birds chirped in the lush trees swaying outside with the coming morning. Yoongi scooted closer until her back was flush against his chest. The heat between their skin was a welcome sensation that seemed to fill his heart with even more love. If that was possible. He slipped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She wriggled again when he started peppering her with kisses up and down her neck and cheek. He finally brought his lips to her ear. “Wake up.”

~~~

Y/N’s eyes drifted open and fluttered against the cold lights of the ICU room. She looked down at her IVs and around the room groggily. Yoongi was asleep on the edge of the bed with his head resting on his folded arms. It broke her heart to see how tired he looked. Dark bags marked his red, puffy eyes from hours of vigil. Tears welled in her eyes and her lips drew into a pained frown as the memories of her night flashed in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to silence her hiccups. Her head sank back into the pillow and hoped it would just swallow her whole. There was no way she’d be able to face anyone after what she did. Oh God. Jungkook. Instant guilt and shame washed over her when she realized what she put that poor boy through.

When her eyes cleared enough to see, she noticed the dozens of messages littering her bed and side table. She took one off the railing with a shaky hand. It was in Yoongi’s handwriting.

When I first met you

I remembered you

From a hundred different dreams

And there you were

For me to love

All over again

For the very first time

- Atticus

A smile crept onto her lips as she read each one.

Your eyes.

Your eyes hold everything

My soul thirsts for.

- Paul Perry

She read another.

You gave light to my soul

You helped me to be whole

I have felt love for you before

And it will be more and more,

You are mine, my dear

You are the angel from above

Who taught me how to love.

Please, forever keep me near.

- Anonymous

~~~

The feeling of his hair being carded through slowly coaxed Yoongi out of his dream. He peeked an eye open. Y/N was mindlessly playing with his hair while she intently read one of his notes. “Oh my God!” He jumped onto the bed and cupped her head in his hands as he attacked her with kisses wherever he could land them. “You’re awake! Holy shit, you’re awake!” He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I thought I lost you.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Her hoarse voice was like music to his ears. He let himself laugh for the first time in the longest three days of his life. She looked up at him and he finally got to see those e/c eyes that he missed so much. Another wave of kisses washed over her that concluded with a final long, heated kiss on her lips.

“I’ve been waiting to be able to do that again.” She giggled and pushed against his chest.

“Get off, creepo. If the nurses saw you like this you’d get kicked out so fucking fast.”

“Oh shit,” he jumped off, “I need to tell them you’re up!” She watched in amusement as he ran out the door, then frantically popped back in.

“I’ll be right back!”

~~~

Everything that happened next flew by in a blur. She nearly suffocated under the hugs and kisses and gifts she was bombarded with. She was transferred to a standard room where she was allowed to have as many visitors as she wanted. Her entire day consisted of catching up with everyone, watching movies, and lots, and lots of Jello. Most of her IVs were removed which allowed Yoongi to curl up beside her that night.

The next evening, Jungkook was visiting her when Dr. Lobrano stepped in with his usual clipboard and pen. “Hey you two. If you don’t mind, I need to speak with Miss Y/N for a few minutes in private.”

“Oh..okay.” Jungkook reluctantly got up and left the room, stealing a glance on his way out.

“So?” She asked. The doctor folded his hands in front of him and looked down for a bit.

“I’m afraid there’s one thing about your condition that I’ve yet to mention.” She sat up straighter, her stomach churning.

“What is it?”

“When you first arrived at the ER you had major vaginal bleeding, so we did some tests...” Her heart stopped. “You were pregnant, but I’m afraid the shock of your overdose also caused you to miscarry.” It felt like she got punched in the stomach by Mike Tyson. All the air was sucked out of her lungs.

“P-pregnant..?”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to give you some time to catch up with loved ones before I informed you.” Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and her eyes darted back and forth trying to make sense of it all.

“H-how far along was I?”

“About three weeks.”

“Does...does Yoongi know?”

“I’m leaving you the choice to decide that. Once again, my deepest condolences.” He left her to process the news in privacy.

She collapsed onto the bed, her sobs coming out in hiccupy squeaks. Her hands gravitated to her stomach and tried to imagine the little being that used to be there. Three soft knocks sounded from the other side of the door. It slowly opened and Jungkook peaked his head in. “Y/N? Are you okay?” She only stared up at the ceiling. He approached her bedside. “....Y/N?” Her eyes eventually found him and filled with more tears.

“Can you hug me?” He immediately sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her up into a hug. Her shoulders quivered and she gripped desperately at his shirt.

“Hey, it's okay. It’s okay…” He stroked her hair and rested his chin on the top of her head. She cried, and cried, and cried until nothing else came out. Jungkook held her until her sobs faded, and her body leaned against his chest. He gently laid her down, taking care not to wake her up. Her peaceful face was a stark contrast to the tears that wet her cheeks and reddened her nose. Whatever the doctor told her must’ve been pretty damn bad to have her asking for a hug, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

Y/N was still asleep when Yoongi stepped out of the shower. Moonlight that came from a small window lit his path to her bed. She stirred when he climbed in. “It’s me. Go back to sleep.” He whispered. The sheets were pulled over their bodies and she rolled onto her side with her back to him. He took the opportunity to pull her closer. His face nestled on her shoulder and he let out a long sigh of contentment. She clenched her muscles to suppress her whimpers, but it was no use. He lifted his head to look down at her. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Her eyes clamped shut and a choked sob escaped her chest.

“I killed our baby.”

~~~

It took a long time for Yoongi to wrap his head around what she told him the night before. When he finally put two and two together, he immediately turned her around so she was facing his chest and pulled her in as close as he possibly could. He was absolutely distraught, but only a few silent tears of shock came out as she sobbed into his shoulder all over again.

They slept late into the afternoon until they were woken up by a beaming Jimin. “Wake up, sleepyheads! It’s your discharge day!” Yoongi scowled at the unwelcome noise and lazily swatted at him. Jimin grabbed his wrist and pulled him to sit up straight. “Come on! Don’t you wanna get out of here?”

“Gimme a minute before I punch you.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. Jimin circled around to Y/N’s side and played with her hair.

“Y/Naaa, wake uuuup~” She cracked an eye and glared at him. “Oh, don’t give me that look too. It’s noon, and you’re supposed to check out at two. Let's get a move on.”

They spent the better half of an hour watching TV while Yoongi packed up the duffel Jin brought him. Y/N brushed her teeth in bed and spat the toothpaste in a cup when she was done. “Here.” She handed it to Jimin who took it and rinsed it out in the sink.

There was a knock at the door and Dr. Lobrano stepped inside. “How’re we feeling today?”

“Fine, I guess.” she shrugged. “I’m just ready to go home.”

“About that. It’s come to my attention that you have a history of suicidal behavior, and while it’s not my position to judge, I also can’t rule your overdose out as a suicide attempt.” “What?” She was dumbfounded. How could that be any of his business? “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”

“But did you or did you not have any concern for your safety when you took that Fentanyl?” She pressed her lips into an angry thin line. She was angry because she knew he was right. She knew the risk and she did it anyway.

“What are you getting at?” Yoongi stepped in.

“According to California law, overdose victims are required to participate in a mandatory 28 days of rehabilitation. And since you’re also a danger to yourself, your treatment will have to be in a psychiatric facility.”

Y/N, Yoongi, and Jimin’s jaws dropped. There was no way he was serious. Right? Her heart beat faster, and faster, and faster with every memory of St. Joseph’s that flashed in her mind. “No….no, no, no!” She clawed at her IV and yanked it out of her hand. She threw the sheets up and made a mad dash for the door, but two male nurses stood ready to catch her. “NO! NO! NO! I’M NOT GOING BACK!” They hauled her back on the bed and tried to pin her kicking legs down. Her screams brought another team of nurses rushing in with a set of bed restraints.

“What the hell are you doing to her?!” Yoongi shouted. One of the nurses turned and put her hand to the boys’ chests.

“You two need to leave, right now.” They were shoved outside the room and forced to watch the crowd of people struggle to hold Y/N’s thrashing body to the mattress so the restraints could be slipped on. Jimin held his hands to his mouth and stared through wide, teary eyes.

“NO! NO! NO! NO! I CAN’T GO BACK! YOONGI!” It felt like someone stabbed him in the heart when she desperately called out to him. He could hear the terror in her voice.

“YOONGI!”

Pain filled his entire body and he bit the inside of his lip, visibly restraining himself from lunging forward and ripping her from the restraints that she jerked so furiously against. “YOONGI! PLEASE DON’T LET-'' A nurse sank a syringe into her hip and her legs quickly ceased their kicking. Y/N fell silent.

Yoongi stood like a statue and stared at the only half of her that he could see. “Yoongi, I-” he ripped his shoulder away when Jimin placed a hand on it and stormed away. He didn’t stop until he got all the way to his car in the parking lot. The door slammed shut behind him and he was left in silence. His forehead fell against the steering wheel and he let out a long breath.

A single whimper escaped his chest.

Then another.

And another.

Loud, hiccupy sobs wracked his whole body as he white-knuckled the leather wrapped wheel. One especially aggressive wave had him hugging himself in a bawling heap. He hadn’t cried like this since he was little, hiding in the closet from his dad’s drunken rage. It was scary how quickly he lost control, and he knew there was nothing he could do to get it back.

[callmebrycelee]

Album Review: Confetti by Little Mix

During one of the bleakest years in human history, Little Mix has delivered us pure joy and happiness in the form of their sixth studio album: CONFETTI. I became a fan of Little Mix, a Mixer is what we’re called, a few years ago when I clicked on one of my coworker’s Spotify playlists. The first song of theirs I can recall listening to is “F.U.” from their fourth album Glory Days. After looking up their other albums I then ventured over to YouTube so I could watch a few of their music videos. I instantly fell in love with the choreo-heavy “Touch” and the slumber party-themed “Hair”. I then started looking at their live performances and I was blown away. For me, Little Mix is everything I ever wanted out of Fifth Harmony. Now before I get some hate, Fifth Harmony is/was a great pop group and without them we wouldn’t have Normani, but whereas some of the girls in Fifth Harmony are/were more vocally talented than others, each of the members of Little Mix - Jade, Jesy, Leigh-Anne and Perrie - have amazing voices and those voices blend together so perfectly.

I’m so glad I discovered Little Mix when I did because it gave me enough time to binge their albums, music videos and live performances just in time for their fifth studio album LM5 to drop. If I had to rank the albums prior to CONFETTI, LM5 would definitely be at the top of my list. Realistically-speaking, the album didn’t perform as well as their other albums but the album is damn near perfect in my opinion. I then later learned the girls were going through a separation with their then-record label Syco which is a major factor in why the album didn’t perform as well as it could. 

CONFETTI is Little Mix’s first album since leaving Syco so many of us were very much looking forward to what the girls were going to deliver without having Simon Cowell standing on their neck. Our first taste of a newly emancipated Little Mix came in the form of the 80′s-inspired “Break Up Song”. They released their second single “Holiday” in the middle of the summer and their third single “Sweet Melody” was released a few weeks ahead of the album’s November 6 release. Being in the United States, I stayed up past midnight so I can listen to the album and since it’s release it’s been in heavy rotation on Spotify. I thought it would be fun to review the album and rate each of the tracks. There are 13 tracks on CONFETTI and I will be giving my thoughts on each track as well as a score based on a scale of 10. For those of you reading this, keep in mind, I am one of way too many Little Mix fans to count so if there are tracks that you like that I do not rate as high, just remember this is my opinion so forgive me, HAHA. Without further ado, here’s my review of CONFETTI:

BREAK UP SONG: The first track on the album is also the album’s first single. Break Up Song is not only a total vibe, it’s a total 80s vibe. I was delightfully surprised when Little Mix released this song earlier this year. I love that this song is yet another reminder of just how freakin’ talented these ladies are. My favorite part of the track is Jade’s bridge towards the end of the song. The song is bright and fun and I simply cannot resist busting out some serious 80s dance moves every time the song comes on.  Rating: 10/10

HOLIDAY: While Break Up Song gives up 80s pop vibes, Holiday sticks its toes in the contemporary pop pool. It makes sense that this song was released smack dab in the middle of the summer because it is the perfect summer jam. I especially love the accompanying music video which features the girls luxuriating in a spa somewhere on the moon or maybe Mars. It’s sugary and sweet and just like Break Up Song it’s one of those songs you can’t resist dancing to. It should be noted Holiday is the second single off of CONFETTI and it is one of my top 3 favorite tracks off the album. Rating: 10/10

SWEET MELODY: When I first heard the reggaeton-infused Sweet Melody, my initial reaction was meh. Thank God I listened to the song again ... and again ... and again ... because on the second, third and fourth listening, I realized just how truly epic this song is. The lyrics are quite brilliant with my favorite being the Perrie-led second verse: “He would lie, he would cheat, over syncopated beats.” Not only is the song a banger, the music video is one of the best visuals Little Mix has ever released. The choreography is fire and you can tell they put their blood, sweat, tears and spinal cord into their dancing. Sweet Melody is my favorite track on CONFETTI. Rating: 10/10

CONFETTI: Prior to the release of CONFETTI, this track was made available. This song gives me late-90s/early-2000s R&B vibes and I quite enjoy it. It doesn’t hit as nearly as hard as Sweet Melody but this is yet another song I can picture being played in a club. If Little Mix releases any more singles from this album, which I believe they should, I think Confetti is a strong contender. I imagine the music video will be very heavy on the choreo.  Rating: 9/10

HAPPINESS: Category Is: Songs That Could Have Been Released By Britney Spears in the Early 2000s. Happiness is yet another track that was released ahead of the album. Unlike the first three tracks of the album which are very much songs about relationships, past and present, Happiness is the self-empowerment anthem we never knew we needed, especially in the year of our Lord 2020. Happiness is a splashy pop song but it doesn’t elicit the strong emotions I felt when listening to Break Up Song or Sweet Melody.  Rating: 9/10

NOT A PROP SONG: One of the things I like about Little Mix is every so often they’ll release an acoustic version of their popular songs, i.e., Black Magic, Touch, Holiday. This song is acoustic rock and it is not a sound I was ever expecting from Little Mix. If there was a sequel to National Manthem, it would be Not a Pop Song. I like to think of this as Little Mix’s emancipation proclamation after fleeing the clutches of one Simon Cowell. My favorite lyric from the song is in the chorus: “No more singing songs bout breaking my heart or my lonely nights dancing in the dark.” I absolutely adore this song and it gives me early Kelly Clarkson vibes.  Rating: 10/10

NOTHING BUT MY FEELINGS: This song from beginning to end is an absolute treat. I love how lowkey the song starts off and after the chorus, you assume the song is going to keep amping up but at the start of the second verse it goes back to being lowkey again. I love a song that keeps me guessing. I especially love the theme of the song, the struggle of wanting to keep things super casual with someone when deep down you are developing strong feelings for them even though you know you shouldn’t. If there was any doubt the ladies of Little Mix are not grown, this is proof. Rating: 9/10

GLOVES UP: One thing I like doing whenever a new album by one of my favorite artists is released is heading over to YouTube and watching people’s reaction the albums. It seem likes Gloves Up is a favorite off of this album and I just don’t get it. I don’t like to skip tracks, especially on Little Mix albums, but admittedly this is the one I’m tempted to skip when I’m listening to CONFETTI. I like the message but the song is a bit cliché. I hope that repeatedly listening of this track will make me like it, especially since I have a very strong feeling this is going to end up being a single. Rating: 6/10

A MESS (HAPPY 4 U): If Break Up Song had a sequel it would be this track. I love the lyrics and I love the instrumentation. It’s a gorgeous track and again something unexpected from Little Mix. I love Jade’s falsetto on this track.  Rating: 9/10

MY LOVE WON’T LET YOU DOWN: I feel like in addition to giving us great dance bops, Little Mix also delivers when it comes to ballads. The gospel-tinged My Love Won’t Let You Down is absolutely gorgeous and will be the perfect closing song on one of their tours. There are Little Mix songs where I think, wow, I’d love to see what the music video would look like and then there are Little Mix songs where I think, wow, I’d love to see how they’d perform this. This track is definitely of the latter variety. All four of our queen’s vocals are on point.  Rating: 10/10

RENDEZVOUS: Remember how I said there are three songs on this album that are my favorite? Sweet Melody is my fave track on the album and Rendezvous is my second-favorite. Rendezvous is sexy and sleek and reminds me of something Ciara would’ve released early on in her career. I also love that it samples the song Sway. I cannot wait to see how they perform this song on tour and I would love for this to be a future single because I would love to see Little Mix turn up the sex on one of their songs. This song reminds me of Notice for some reason from LM5. When Little Mix does sexy, the do sexy right! Rating: 10/10

IF YOU WANT MY LOVE: Like Gloves Up, If You Want My Love is another meh track on this album which sucks because it’s literally sandwiched between two perfect songs on the album. Perhaps this is another one I’ll have to keep listening to in hopes that it will grow on me. Right now I’m feeling pretty blasé about the track. Rating: 6/10

BREATHE: Yay! We get not just one ballad on CONFETTI but two! This is the perfect close to a pretty awesome Little Mix album. I’m happy to report the album ends as strong as it begins. Of the two ballads, I prefer My Love Won’t Let You Down but that shouldn’t suggest I don’t like this song. I love it and it’s another one I’d love to see performed live. Rating: 10/10

ALBUM OVERALL RATING: 9

[crewfm]

･ﾟ   ☾         round   two   of   intros   and   none   the   less   messy   !   crew’s   a   new   muse   so   his   intro   will   likely   be   shorter   than   ripleys   but   who   knows   i   love   me   a   lil   dancing   hypebeast   so   maybe   i’ll   ramble   on   .   disc   /   ord   is   @𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢   𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫   !#6439   since   i’ll   be   mobile   for   the   afternoon   !

💀  * [ brandon arreaga + cis male + he / him ] —— have you met  galamiel ‘ crew ‘  rivera ? they are a twenty - one year old junior currently studying music production & visual arts. they live on keating house, and word around campus is that this gemini is fervent + jocular, as well as imprudent + mercurial. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. light shows in your messy dorm , feet that never cease moving , feeling the rumble of a pounding baseline in your chest .  [ ooc: teddy. ]

EDIT : wanted and current connections can be found here !

galamiel   alejandro   luis   santocruz   rivera   (   the   family   had   a   ton   of   people   they   needed   to   honor   in   the   naming   system   )   is   born   smack   dab   in   the   middle   of   a   huge   family   of   seven   siblings   .   his   dad   works   construction   and   his   mom   is   the   sweet   woman   who   mans   the   butcher   counter   at   the   local   grocery   store   that   is   in   the   heart   of   their   tiny   new   mexico   suburb   .   

children   of   immigrants   ,   his   older   siblings   tend   to   jump   into   working   straight   after   graduating   ,   with   his   brothers   taking   on   the   family   construction   business   and   his   sister   working   as   a   secretary   for   a   local   school   .   nobody   really   dreams   of   leaving   their   town   except   for   one   bright   eyed   baby   boy   ,   who   points   out   an   airplane   that   flies   overhead   every   time   he   spots   one

nicknames   come   and   go   until   ‘santocruz’   becomes   the   family   moniker   ,   eventually   shortening   to   just   crew   when   the   white   kids   at   school   inevitably   butcher   it   .

good   natured   and   curious   ,   he’s   less   complacent   than   his   siblings   were   but   more   willing   to   take   risks   ,   asking   questions   and   pulling   things   apart   in   order   to   put   them   back   together   .   his   middle   school   teachers   tell   his   parents   that   he   shows   great   promise   for   a   future   in   engineering   ,   given   his   smarts   and   curiosity   at   such   a   young   age   .

his   father   takes   it   even   harder   when   crew   begins   to   dress   more   eccentrically   ,   the   sole   creative   of   a   family   so   rooted   in   their   simple   way   of   life   .   when   crew   expresses   interest   in   music   and   stays   back   after   school   to   join   the   dance   team   ,   it’s   a   stark   difference   from   the   football   games   and   soccer   matches   his  father   was   so   used   to   cheering   at   for   his   other   children   .

though   he   never   says   it   outright   ,   crew   isn’t   oblivious   to   the   rift   between   himself   and   his   father   ,   the   unspoken   rejection   after   crew   refuses   to   work   for   him   one   summer   in   favor   of   going   to   los   angeles   on   an   internship   for   a   production   studio   .   it   hurts   like   hell   ,   but   the   support   of   his   mother   and   his   more   understanding   siblings   is   enough   to   keep   his   head   up   .   

he   comes   to   holloway   as   more   of   an   escape   than   anything   ,   a   desire   to   leave   the   sleepy   desert   town   that   suffocated   him   and   truly   breathe   before   his   plans   to   move   to   LA   permanently   .   he’s   the   first   to   go   to   college   in   his   family   ,   setting   the   example   for   his   younger   siblings   ,   and   even   if   it’s   not   for   engineering   like   his   parents   had   hoped   ,   his   mother   still   proudly   flaunts   his   school   logo   everywhere   she   can   .

he’s   studying   music   production   with   the   intention   of   becoming   a   producer   ,   posting   music   to   his   soundcloud   every   weekend   that   he   produces   from   his   mini   studio   set   up   in   his   dorm   room   .   he’s   double   majoring   in   visual   arts   bc   he’s   an   artsie   bitch   and   just   likes   to   be   able   to   wax   poetic   about   proportions   and   negative   space   and   having   an   opportunity   to   do   so   without   being   called   pretentious   is   invaluable   to   him   .

PERSONALITY   :   crew   is   a   ball   of   energy   simply   trying   to   make   it   through   each   day   .   he   has   an   eye   for   art   that   keeps   him   centered   on   seeking   out   pretty   things   and   new   experiences   that   can   inspire   his   creativity   .   it’s   not   unlikely   to   find   him   microtripping   on   a   casual   tuesday   and   wanting   to   go   explore   a   church   ‘   for   the   architecture   .   ’   he   has   zero   filter   and   tends   to   use   humor   to   placate   the   average   situation   ,   passionate   about   making   people   feel   something   whether   its   through   his   art   or   through   his   presence   .   

he’s   not   necessarily   outgoing   ,   but   is   dedicated   to   his   inner   circle   .   romantically   ,   he’s   the   type   to   write   or   perform   about   every   interaction   he’s   had   ,   leading   to   rather   intense   flings   that   are   often   shortlived   despite   the   illusion   that   crew   was   invested   .   he   doesn’t   know   how   to   do   things   in   small   doses   and   tends   to   burn   himself   out   due   to   this   .   

one   of   his   fatal   flaws   is   his   tendency   to   not   take   the   world   at   face   value   and   act   on   impulse   ,   following   whims   without   thinking   them   through   and   having   a   reputation   for   being   rather   unpredictable   and   hard   to   follow   .

RANDOM : dresses   the   way   he   does   bc   he   thinks   fashion   is   fun   and   if   u   cant   fw   the   vision   he   doesn’t   want   ur   energy   near   him   !

secure   in   his   masculinity   and   his   sexuality   ,   openminded   about   his   attraction   to   energies   rather   than   simply   physical   features   

every   time   he   ft’s   his   mom   with   a   new   piercing   or   tattoo   she’s   like   ‘   mijo   you   can   get   all   the   mess   you   want   on   your   body   but   dont   TOUCH   YOUR   FACE   ’

pretentious   and   goofy   all   at   once   and   that’s   sort   of   his   brand   ?

likes   to   pretend   he’s   a   photographer   but   he   really   doesn’t   know   what   he’s   doing   .   some   of   his   shit   do   be   comin   out   cool   tho   !

loves   his   homies   .   would   genuinely   get   his   friend’s   names   tattooed   on   him   he   said   im   loyal   for   LIFE

dances   semi-professionally   and   has   been   in   some   music   videos   for   notable   rappers   /   hip   hop   singers   !

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

premonition; never too late  preface

Summary: When Richie dies, Eddie has no idea what to do next, until he wakes up the next day, and Richie is sleeping next to him. In the strangest week of their lives, Eddie puts the missing pieces together to solve the mystery and his husband’s life.

A/N: this is a story idea based on the movie ‘premonition’, that both me and @reddie-fangirl24​ are going to work on. We’ll alternate between writing chapters, and this is the preface. Let me know what you think! Also, I’m thinking about applying for a writing course in college so i would really appreciate any honest opinion about my writing! 

warning: curse words 

Despite Eddie’s best intentions on following the route of the car, he loses his sense of direction barely five minutes into the car ride. A blindfold is covering his eyes, making him blind and reliant on Richie, who is sitting next to him in the driver’s seat.

‘Are you excited Eds?’ Richie asks, childish glee laced through his voice. Eddie opens his mouth to answer, but right before he can, Richie makes a sudden U-turn, cursing harshly while he does.

‘Richie I swear to God. You’d better be paying attention to the road!’ He wishes he could see him, mostly because that would give him the opportunity to prod some more. He’s sure that if given the change, he’d make Richie spill the secret in 10 minutes flat.

As it stands, however, he can’t check if Richie remains focused on the road while they’re talking, so he resorts to silence. Africa by Toto is playing in the background, the same song that was their first dance as husband and husband, so he tunes in to the lyrics and lets his mind drift, the only way he can keep his energy in check.

He’s full of curiosity about where exactly they’re going, and what Richie had in store for him. Maybe they’ll be going on a day trip to the zoo, but that seems unlikely since it was already two in the afternoon, or they could be hanging out with their friends. But then why did Richie put so much energy in keeping it secret? The truth is, Eddie is clueless, and that is not something he likes.

He’s gotten better at letting things go that are beyond his control, but disruptive plans are a pet peeve he has yet to overcome, and Richie knows that, so there must be a good reason for doing it.

Richie is nervous, Eddie can tell, even if Richie tries his damn hardest to convince him otherwise. He’s been drumming his fingers against the steering wheel from the moment they left their apartment, too rapid to match the beat of the songs they’ve been listening too.

Just before he decided to remark on this before he can start questioning Richie, the car slows down, and the thumping stops. ‘Hey, Eddie Spaghetti, any guesses as to where we’re going?’

Eddie lets a disbelieving laugh escape him. ‘Obviously not, idiot. If I could see where we are, then maybe I had a chance to.’

Laughing himself, Richie turns the temperature in the car down, indicating to Eddie that he’s sweating, another clue that he’s more tense then he likes to admit.

‘You hot, babe?’ Eddie questions smugly, the edges of his lips lifted up to a smirk.

‘No’, Richie denies, ‘but you sure are, babe.’ He puts empathies on his last word mocking Eddie with his choice of words.

Eddie rolls his eyes as best he can behind his blindfold, even when he knows Richie probably won’t be able to notice it anyway.

For a moment, he nearly forgets what they’re doing. The atmosphere in the car brings forth the same emotions that summers as kids used to do. Before they had to worry about work and everything else, they could be as careless as they wanted to be.

Then the car comes to a quiet halt. Richie sighs, bracing himself for the next part, as he is both equally exhilarated, as he is anxious.  Impatient as ever, Eddie eagerly asks; ‘Can I take off my blindfold now?’

Exhaling a chuckle, Richie shakes his head, before realizing that Eddie can’t see him. ‘In a minute’, he responds, taking the keys out of the ignition.

‘Remember our wedding day, when we returned at night to an apartment and the fucking annoying couple down the hall wouldn’t stop screaming?’

Of course Eddie remembers that, he remembers everything from that day in great detail. The way Richie positively beamed when Eddie came into the room, his arm linked with Bev’s, the hilarious speeches the losers made when proposing a toast, and the promise they made at night, when everyone was dead asleep.

The vow Richie and Eddie made, the one Richie is referencing, was a guarantee that they would move out and find their own place, away from others where they would be with each other and no one could interrupt.

They deserved that much after the lives they had, and especially after Eddie was nearly killed by IT, leaving him in the hospital for almost a year. That had been six years ago, but they still coward at any sight of a shadow, or a sound coming from a dimly lit place.

But that vow had been over a year and a half, and they had yet to find any house that was affordable and close to Eddie’s job, or the other losers. Eddie’s confused as to why Richie would bring it up now.

‘Sure, I remember that Rich, why?’ Eddie inquired, unsure where this was all heading.

‘Good, just making sure.’ Richie’s lips were chapped as they brushed up against Eddie’s, their lips meeting in a slow, loving kiss. Because Eddie hadn’t seen it coming and was taken by surprise, the kiss is a bit sloppy, but the fact that it’s Richie that’s kissing him, made up more than enough for that fact.

When Richie pulled back, his hand brushes over Eddie’s eyebrow, a soothing gesture he had picked up on at the hospital, since every other part of Eddie’s body was off-limits due to injuries. A dopy smiles rests on Eddie’s face when Richie eventually leans away, and he catches the sound of him opening up his car door.

‘Hold on one second, Eds.’

Then, the door on Eddie’s side unlocks as well, the cool air breeze from the open door making him shiver slightly.

‘Okay, I’m going to take your blindfold off now, okay?’

Eagerness spreads through Eddie’s entire body. He nods enthusiastically, he’d be embarrassed, if it wasn’t for the man-child that he called his husband.

When the one blockage slips away, another replaces it straight after, Richie’s one hand big enough to cover both of Eddie’s orbs. He groans. ‘Oh, you asshole, I fucking knew that that was what you were going to do.’

‘Yeah, well deal with it Eddie my love.’ Richie teases lovingly.

Richie supports Eddie out of the car, the grip on his forearm tight. With a slam, the car door shuts behind them, and they are left on the street.

Together, they shuffle over a sidewalk, and that is the only thing Eddie can make out, still in the dark. A kiss is pressed to the side of his head, and then Richie leans down, Eddie small and short frame nothing compared to his, so he can whisper; ‘Open up, Eds.’

His hands fall away, and it takes a hot minute for Eddie to adjust back to the light, after being without it for so long. After his eyes have adapted, he focusses on what’s in front of him, his eyes widening in uncertainty.

Before him is a house, by the looks off it made completely out of wood frame, plywood and sheetrock. There’s an enormous front yard, about 50 square feet, with a walkway from the street up till the front door, full of gravel.

There was a parking spot, marked by the absence of grass, in front of a large window that constricted the view inside the house by white curtains. Eddie blinked, then shakes his head as if to get him out of a daze before turning and gazing towards Richie.

‘A house? Is that why I spend thirty minutes in a car? To see a fucking house?’

Richie paled a little, clearing his throat before covering it up with a smile. Eddie felt guilty nauseatingly fast. ‘You should check it out first, Eds.’

‘What for, Richie? Getting arrested for trespassing is the last thing I want to do right now.’

With a chuckle, Richie guides the two of them towards the front door, his hands still holding on to Eddie’s upper-arms, steering him gently but firm. ‘We’re not going to get arrested, Eds Spagheds, trust me. Where’s your sense of adventure? Maybe I want us to get caught, huh?’

Richie playfully nibbles at the top of Eddie’s neck, right below his chin, laughing when Eddie pushes him away with one of his own. ‘If we get arrested numbnuds, I’m leaving you behind and I am not posting bail!’

The walk up to the front door, Richie letting go as he searches for the keys in his pocket. The door is painted in a camel color, with a mailbox opening near the bottom. Fumbling his way in front of Eddie, Richie opens the door with a tada-motions, gesturing Eddie inside widely, thrilled that he gets to show him the place.

Eddie enters hesitantly, glancing left and right, then stepping inside and doing the same thing. When you step through the door, you find yourself in the hallway, leading up the stairs to the end of it.

Turning left, Eddie sees what he believes is the dining room, and on his right is the living room, a large tv hung smack dab in the middle of it. There are no doors connecting them, just open spaces, but Eddie likes that a lot. It gives the illusion of freedom, and when discussing moving plans with Richie, he had always insisted it should be an open concept.

He peers at Richie, silently asking which direction they’ll go to next, but he patiently waits for Eddie to decide, his hands shoved in his pockets as he silently watches him.

Eddie sets off to the right, gaping out the beauty and serenity that the room displays. There’s a large sand-colored three-piece sofa in the corner, with pillows a baby pink littered across it. Besides the tv, there’s also a bookcase, a mirror hanging on the wall opposite of the couch, a closet, a wooden coffee table, and several green plants. The walls have a peach color to them.

Straight ahead was the kitchen, fully equipped with the newest equipment for cooking. Excluding the basic necessities, there is also a coffee machine, a food processor and an immersion blender. Though it’s a very modern cooking area, it’s build-out of wood. Eddie lets his fingertips slide over the top, focusing on the feel of the rubles under his touch.

Then they saunter over to the main hall again, arriving in another room which held a piano, a desk, and another tv, the walls tinted a dusky pink.

Next is the dining room, a large wooden table at its center, alongside six chairs, neatly places under neat it. There are two large windows, covering the entirety of the walls, leading up to the grass part of their front lawn.

A bathroom is located under the stairs, complete with a toilet, mirror, and sink.

The back garden is even bigger than the front, and if Eddie were to guess, he estimates the total ground at about 71 inches. A little pond covered under a large tree oozes tranquility, an image of an harmonious Sunday afternoon filled with reading and enjoying each other’s company flashes through Eddie’s thoughts, the imagine warming his insides.

Next, they ascend up the stairs, walking up to an even larger floor than the ground one. There are two more bathrooms, one next to one of the bedrooms, and one that’s found at the utter end of the hallway.

In the bathrooms a bath and a shower can be found, along with a toilet, sink and several cabinets, tiles coating the walls with a homely feel. There is a work office, with a desk, computer and placements for Eddie’s files so he can work organized and at peace.

Lastly, there are three bedrooms, with respectively lilac, peach and aqua-colored walls that Richie insisted they visited last. It becomes clear why when they enter the aqua colored bedroom.

The peach bedroom is unquestionably the main bedroom, as it is the largest, and has the biggest bed. It’s adjacent to the street, but the walls are thick enough that any sound from the outside gets muffled.

The Lilac and aqua rooms share a wall, both of them positioned near the backyard. 

Eddie’s eyes are drawn to letter placed upon the bed in the Aqua room from the second he walks in, so he makes a beeline for it.

He hears Richie chuckle, but he pays it no mind as he rips the envelop open to reveal what’s inside. In the letter, with scribbled handwriting that can only come from Richie, a message is written. Want to make this the baby’s room? It reads, Eddie dropping the paper in shock, turning to asks Richie what the hell is going on.

‘What do you mean, Rich? Why the hell are we here?’

With a beam, Richie turns around in a circle, gesturing towards the whole house. ‘This is our house now, Eds. I followed everything you said, and added a few things of my own. I really hope you like it. I was basing it off of what your mother liked, you know since I knew her so well.’

Eddie looks at Richie like he grew two heads, his brow furrowed while his body stands rigid. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

For a whole year, they rejected every house that was on the market, touring more open houses that Richie toured cities, for none on them even remotely resembled what it was they were after, and now the perfect house suddenly fell in their lap?

The quest was partially daring since they both agreed that refraining from having children while still at the apartment was a must. Both of them longed for kids more than anything, but they scorned having to raise them in a place that didn’t belong to them.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Richie says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, ‘maybe I should have told you that this was haystack’s wedding gift.’

‘Wait, what the fuck, how?’ Eddie questions, the pitch of his voice going slightly higher.

‘Well I told Benverly about our search for a house and Ben offered to help. So we’ve been secretly working on this whenever you’re off to work or out with Bev.’

‘Oh Rich’, Eddie smiled, his heart growing twice as big as before. Every time he thinks he can’t love the man anymore then he already does, he organizes something like this.

‘And if you don’t like something we can change it. But we agreed on two kids, so two children bedroom, and look’, Richie exclaimed as he trudged to the window, pointing outside to the garden.

‘I was thinking we could place a swing set there, and maybe even a pool.’ He faltered when Eddie kept listening instead of speaking up, keen on knowing what Eddie thought.

Eddie, who was staring with a lovestruck gaze on his face, rushed forward to sloth his lips against Richie’s, kissing him passionately in a way to hopefully convey what words didn’t. Thank you, I love you, I love this.

‘Rich, Thank you. I-, this is amazing, you’re amazing.’

Richie melted to a pool at Eddie’s praise, swooned by the love that surrounded him.

‘And yes, of course, I would love to have a baby with you.’

He could not wait to start their new lives, in their own home. 

[cake-writes]

Little Lies (Kentucky)

Pairings: Steve x Reader // Bucky x Reader (mentioned)

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Oral (Receiving), 18+

Summary: You went to Bucky when you wanted punishment. He’d be rough with you because he understood your self-loathing, and he’d leave bruises on your hips that wouldn’t go away for a week. You loved it. He didn’t.

You went to Steve when you wanted reassurance. You went to him because he liked to whisper sweet, sweet things into your ear as he made love to you. He’d tell you that you were perfect and amazing and beautiful. Then you’d get your fill, just far too much of it. He cared too much.

It all came to a head when the three of you went on a mission together. You’d done it a hundred times, even during this mess of a situation, and still neither of them was any the wiser. Your little lies always slipped right through the cracks - until one night, they didn’t.

Master List

August 2015

Kentucky was absolutely sweltering. It was a hot summer, for one, and for two, Steve was from Brooklyn. He wasn’t used to such sticky, uncomfortable heat because New York summers were much milder than this and Germany’s were much of the same. He wasn’t used to the humidity, either, even after you’d managed to wrangle him into a tank top, cargo shorts, and flip-flops. It was much less stifling than his uniform or even his civvies, but he felt out of place in such bizarre, 21st century clothing.

Then again, that was exactly the point. He was undercover. You both were.

You, on the other hand, seemed right in your element as the two of you unloaded the moving van you’d just picked up a few miles away from one of Tony’s associates. It was stocked full of boxes – mostly empty ones, just for show – along with a couple pieces of furniture: table and chairs, a small sofa, and a bed.

You were wearing a tee shirt with some faded band logo on it – Steve didn’t recognize it – and a pair of short denim shorts. Those he recognized only because Sam had teased you about them right before the two of you left the compound – called them ‘Daisy Dukes,’ whatever that meant. You’d just winked at Sam, made a lasso motion with your hands and cheered, “yee-haw,” like a cowgirl. Then you and Sam shared a laugh. It was a reference that Steve clearly didn’t get, but that was fine. It gave him something to think about, to distract him from how short those shorts really were.

The flight to Kentucky had been fine. You hammed it up a bit, already putting on the newlywed façade – told the flight attendant that you’d just gotten married and darlin’, isn’t my new hubby just the greatest? and it flustered him. You were showing him off. Even if it wasn’t real, he couldn’t help but preen a little.

That said, there was no doubt in his mind that someone else would have better suited the role than him. The decision wasn’t up to him, though; there had quite literally been a vote to see who should take this mission, and he’d been selected the prime candidate because of course he was. Everyone thought it would be hilarious to shove you and him together in a box for a couple weeks, like some warped version of Seven Minutes in Heaven: you, the scandalous minx you were, and him, the prude.

Steve didn’t mind it, really. He was actually a little excited for it. Nervous, too. He was in love with you, had been for months now. He knew should have said no to the mission because of the clear conflict of interest but he didn’t.

His attraction to you started out as an objective appreciation for the way you could handle yourself in the field. He noticed the glimmer you got in your eyes from a fight, when you did something perfectly or landed a particularly good blow or when he saved your ass at the last minute. He noticed the excited flush that came over your cheeks and the mischievous look you got when you fought alongside him, the two of you working together so well that it was almost like an elaborate dance.  

He’d had always known how attractive you were in other ways, too. Every now and then, he’d catch the slip of a bra strap, or you’d lean over and your shirt would accidentally reveal far too much cleavage. Sometimes, you’d wear a short, tight dress and go out to a nightclub with Natasha, and he could barely keep his eyes off of you. Other times, the hint of your thong peeked out of the top of your tac pants. Not often.

He tried not to look. You drove him crazy.

The mission itself was the easy part. The two of you were undercover in this small Kentucky town to find out where some particularly important intel had been downloaded. Tony’s satellites had only been able to pinpoint it to a one block radius, which coincidentally was smack dab in the middle of suburbia.

Your new residence was a charming little house at the end of a cul-de-sac, two bedrooms, one bath. A white picket fence bordered the yard, with pretty pink and purple flowers blooming under the windowsills and in the front garden. The exterior was painted light blue and it seemed a bit older, likely heritage – almost looked like something from his childhood, if he was being honest.

The moment Steve saw it – really, truly took it in – it made him stop in his tracks.

Some people actually got to have lives like this. They married, settled down, popped out a couple of kids, maybe got a dog. They had normal, ordinary lives. He wondered for a moment if this was what it felt like.

Your shoulder brushed against his as you made your way up the paved driveway, carrying a big box. You were humming some tune he didn’t recognize. He just stood there like an idiot, watching you as you went inside to add the box to the ever-growing pile and when you came back out, you waved at someone – one of the nosy neighbours, no doubt.

Then you gave him a sweet smile. “Honey?”

God, the word was so, so sweet on your tongue and it made his heart race. Somehow, he managed to get out an easy, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

It felt so strange and unfamiliar to use such words of adoration for you, but he certainly didn’t mind it in the least. It felt nice. While he called you ‘doll’ every now and then out of habit, he tried not to out of respect for you. Now he didn’t need to hold back.

“Do you wanna come help me with this? I can’t lift it.”

“Of course,” he responded, readjusting his grip on the box in his arms before he started up the walkway.

You waited for him at the door. When he got there, you gave him another one of those sweet, disarming smiles, and then you kissed him on the cheek, batting your eyelashes at him.

It was an act, of course, to appease the nosy neighbours and it also helped the two of you blend in. You were just trying to sell the story, and he knew that – but this was a terrible idea. He wasn’t sure how long it would to take to finish the mission, but he hoped it was sooner rather than later. You were going to be the death of him with the pet names, the southern drawl, the skimpy outfits and, just – you.

The house was pretty much already stocked with anything either of you would need. There were two bedrooms, one for each of you, but you’d have to share a bathroom. That was fine, because you’d done it plenty of times before during other missions. It was actually pretty nice that you had your own rooms, for once, because you usually had to share a single motel room or set up camp somewhere outside.

The first night, you ordered takeout because that was pretty much a moving day tradition. The two of you joked around like usual and talked about all sorts of things, but none of them were really personal. You kept the conversation breezy and light, even when it drifted to the mission at hand. Over beer and pizza, the two of you developed a plan to canvas the area. You’d distract the neighbours while Steve got into their homes and searched for the intel. Easy as pie.

Quite literally.

Steve was a heavy sleeper, but he woke to the smell of warm apple pie wafting through the house. It was still relatively early, sun just rising above the horizon, but you were already putting the plan into action.

When he came downstairs, he caught a particularly nice view of your ass as you leaned over to pull the pie from the oven. You weren’t wearing those short denim shorts anymore, but a pair of tight high-waisted jeans and a crop top.

“Mornin’, sugar,” you said with a wink.

It caught him off guard. He remembered that the two of you were undercover, but it wasn’t necessary behind closed doors like this. You were purposely trying to get a rise out of him.

He gave you a deadpan look, but he still felt his cheeks flush and, when he saw your eyes shine mischievously, he knew you’d noticed it too.

“Didn’t realize apple pie counted as breakfast nowadays,” he commented.

“Come on, Cap. We deep fry everything nowadays. Of course it’s breakfast,” you told him, laughing. He studied your face for a moment, and then, when he actually went to reach for the freshly baked pie, like this was yet some more knowledge that he’d never learnt while he was frozen – you gently pulled his hand away. “Oh, no, I’m sorry, Rogers. It’s for our cover.”

You rarely apologized for anything, but for this – for him, you did. The fact that he’d been frozen for so many years wasn’t something to joke about to you, even if it was unintentional. You hadn’t meant to make a joke of it.

Steve looked a little surprised by that. It didn’t really bother him all that much when people made jokes at his expense. Sensitive topic, absolutely, but the jokes were never malicious and he knew that. It was more prodding fun at the fact that while yes, he’d certainly missed a lot, it also meant that people were looking out for him, suggesting to him things that he should look into.

Your warm fingers lingered on his hand just a little longer than they should have.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it. There’s a lot of stuff I need to catch up on.”

“Got a list going, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, actually,” he said with a grin, pulling a small notebook out of his pocket. “Sure do.”

That morning, the two of you went through his list one by one, and you gave some comments and suggestions of your own. Instead of writing them himself, like he usually did, he relinquished the pen and paper to you.

Steve inadvertently wound up saving those notes, and on particularly bad days, he found himself studying every curve of your handwriting, like it held whatever answer he was seeking.

Over the next few days, he came to realize that you were purposely fucking with him.

You’d always been a tee shirt and jeans kind of girl, at least in the couple of years he’d known you, but for this mission all you wore were cute, dainty outfits. You started wearing floral dresses or the occasional blouse and skirt, paired with light makeup and heels. You hardly ever wore makeup or heels unless you were going out with Natasha.

You were playing a character. He knew that. But seeing you in such a different light, so sweet and girly, it did something to him. It sparked something in him – or maybe it just added fuel to the fire that was already burning for you.

He’d always treated you respectfully, at least he liked to think so. Even though he’d had an undeniable attraction to you for a long time – longer than he’d been in love with you – he’d always treated you like an agent first and a woman second. Seeing you like this, though, it made that an extremely difficult task to accomplish, especially when you were calling him, “Honey,” and “Baby,” and introducing him to your new neighbours as your husband.

He loved seeing that ring on your left ring finger. There was a matching one on his, and a large part of him wished it was real.

After about a week, neither of you had made any headway in your mission yet. The two of you had tried multiple residences nearby, now, but no luck so far. It became routine, almost, the way you went about your days.

Steve was a morning person. He woke early to go for a run, much earlier than you, even before the sun started to rise. The small house you shared was a little older, and the floorboards creaked as he crept past your room to go downstairs in the early hours. It never failed to wake you, but hearing the gentle creaking every morning soon became a comfort that you never realized you’d miss until after it was gone.

You, on the other hand, were a night owl. You stayed up late on the sofa downstairs, using your work tablet to investigate new leads and potential suspects well after Steve went to bed. Of course, that only did so much to distract you from the fact that the eerie quiet of the small town got to you. It made you relive memories you’d rather forget.

When you were alone, that was when you suffered most. Unfortunately, Bucky wasn’t here to help you. You’d only recently discovered how good he was at making you forget, but for this, you’d just have to make do on your own like you’d done for so long already.

It was more difficult than ever before.

You followed Steve up to bed once, with every intention of starting something you knew you shouldn’t. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when he found you standing at the top of the stairs, staring at him in a way that just a little bit unsettling.

He pulled his toothbrush from his mouth and asked, “What’s the matter, doll?”

He was too sweet. You lost your nerve.

“Forgot my phone,” you said blankly, before you held it up like it was proof that your intention hadn’t been anything but innocuous.  

Steve just shrugged and went back to brushing his teeth, completely oblivious as to what you’d nearly done. You’d nearly crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed. Not again. You’d already done it with Bucky. You didn’t need to do it with Steve, too.

Despite it all, some nights you needed to be held – especially here in this awful quiet town that made it so easy for you to lose yourself in your memories. You needed to be treated sweetly, and in a lot of ways, Steve did that for you. Not intentionally, of course; just a kind look here, a gentle hand on your lower back there, not to mention the praise he offered you sometimes. He often told you after missions that you’d done a good job.

Good job. From his lips, it almost sounded like he was saying good girl.

What really did it for you, though, was that you didn’t even have to say a thing for Steve to know you were doing your best. He didn’t know you, not really, aside from one single side of you that he knew almost too well – the small part of you that wanted his praise, along with his acceptance of your mistakes. Steve had seen you make a number of them over the past couple of years, and despite them all, he always treated you so kindly. He never judged you or blamed you for them.

You never, ever let anyone else see you that way, let alone Bucky because if he did, then he’d have seen far too much. You only let people have a glimpse of who you truly were here and there, because if they saw too many sides of you, then they’d be able to piece together who you really were deep down. It wasn’t pretty.

You offered Bucky the dangerous, broken part of yourself, the one that killed and murdered and didn’t feel a lick of remorse. You got him to punish you, ruin you, break you, because that was what that part of you deserved – and he was so, so good at it. You loved him for it. You thanked him. That side of you well and truly belonged to him. You never showed it to anyone else.  

Not that you’d ever tell him that.

The other part of you that Steve got to see – the sweet, clueless girl who did her best and it just wasn’t good enough sometimes – that part of you was all his.

Not that you’d ever tell him that, either.

Your weakest point was always late at night when you were alone. You found yourself coming closer and closer to climbing into Steve’s bed more frequently as the days passed, but you held strong. Somehow, you managed.

Sometimes you stopped yourself when you got to the top of the stairs, staring at his closed bedroom door. Other times, you found yourself in his bedroom, taking in every bit of his peaceful, sleeping face. Once and only once, you ran your fingers through his hair and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. On that particular night, you very nearly hadn’t stopped there – but you managed.

You always managed.

During the day, you put on a façade just like you’d always done. It was routine. It almost felt normal to do this – to cohabitate, to get groceries and toilet paper, to worry about how your lemon bars were going to turn out today – but you never let yourself fall too deep into that normal, ordinary line of thinking because you knew how hard it would be to pull yourself out of it.

Every day, Steve went for an early morning jog, and after he’d come back and showered, you finally started to rouse. By the time you sluggishly made your way downstairs, he was in the kitchen fixing breakfast for the two of you. He never failed to have a hot cup of coffee waiting for you with the exact amount of cream and sugar you liked.

It was the same every day, and some part of you – that sweet, clueless girl – loved every part of it. The normalcy. The domesticity.  

Your pet names for each other started to become insufferable in the best way. You used to greet him with normal ones – honey, baby, sweetheart – and he did the same. As the days passed, though, in private the two of you got more and more ridiculous to the point that you made each other laugh with them. And, every now and then when one of them slipped out in public, it only added to your newlywed persona.

“Good morning, honeybun,” you said airily, taking a seat at the counter where you’d plugged in your work tablet the night before.  

Steve gave you a grin just like he always did when you said a particularly silly one. “Morning, gorgeous.”

He didn’t blush as easily anymore when he said such sweet things to you. You assumed that he must have just gotten used to it, but it was a little bit disappointing. You loved to rile him up.

As he dished up two plates of pancakes, you took a sip of the coffee he made for you and scrolled through the new intel from HQ that had come through during the night. There wasn’t much, just another potential location to check out.

After a quick breakfast, Steve did check it out, and it was yet another dead end. It was well into the afternoon by the time he was finished. On your side of things, you spent the day distracting the residents of that particular home so that Steve could get in and out unseen.  

You met up a block away, and on your way back to your new home, you remembered that you needed to pick something up for dinner. The two of you took a detour to the corner store where you usually got your groceries.

Steve was wearing his favourite baseball cap and sunglasses, and you were in a particularly flattering sundress and wedge heels. The mid-afternoon weather was lovely – hot, but not quite as sweltering as most other days. It was nice.

It was almost second nature at this point for you to reach out and lace your fingers with his. The first time you’d done it, he looked surprised as hell and the flush that came across his face made your heart race. Now, he just offered you a small smile and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand like he’d done it a thousand times before.

It still made your heart race.  

All things considered, it seemed like a normal day – except it wasn’t. You should have noticed the extra staff at the corner store. You should have noticed the bulk around their waists – guns – but you didn’t. You were too focused on what to make for dinner. For the first time in a very, very long time, you let your guard down. You forgot.

Steve did notice, but it took him a little longer than normal, too. When you felt his familiar hand on your lower back press against you just a little more firmly, you immediately knew something was up but you continued to act like everything was just peachy, even when he whispered into your ear, “We need to go.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. You grabbed a couple of random things from the shelves: two tins of beans, a bag of chips, and a candy bar, and then the two of you made your way to the register. You paid in cash. Steve carried the bag for you on the way out.

It wasn’t difficult to notice the two men on your tail. Your cover was blown. Somehow, your cover was blown and you hadn’t even fucking noticed because you were too distracted by this newlywed façade. You were too distracted by what it felt like to be normal.

Steve took your small hand in his free one, then, and gave you a gentle squeeze – as if to reassure you. When you glanced over at him, the way he smiled at you made your heart flutter just a little.

This isn’t your fault. Stop worrying. It’ll be fine.

You believed him.  

You made your way to another house, one that had no cars in the driveway and no garage. Hopefully no one was home. It was some random residence a couple of blocks away from your safe house, but you picked the lock so quickly that it looked like you were just opening the door with a regular key. Then you and Steve walked inside like that was where you’d been living this whole time.

You watched from the second-floor window as the two men on your trail radioed something in, probably your location – and then you both slipped out the back and hopped the fence. It was a little higher than you’d normally be able to scale, and Steve helped lift you over. He put his hands around your waist to lift you up, first, but you still couldn’t quite reach, so you quickly told him, “Grab my ass, Rogers.”

Steve’s grip noticeably faltered at your request and your sundress fluttered in the breeze, but he did as you asked – slid his hands from your waist to your barely-covered ass and soft thighs, which provided just enough height and leverage to finally pull yourself over the fence.

When you landed on the other side, you felt like you’d just run a marathon. His touch had been so hot, almost burning, and he’d gripped you so firmly, so close to where you’d been wanting him to touch you for what felt like ages that wet, sticky heat had started to pool in between your legs.

Neither of you discussed it.

The run home was fast, but silent and uncomfortable. You didn’t speak much, and neither did he. You shared a dinner of canned beans and potato chips, but neither of you had much of an appetite. You needed to figure out what to do, now, but you barely had a chance to discuss it when the loud sound of an explosion shook your quaint little safe house.

You both immediately knew what it was.

The perp – whoever the hell it was – had blown up the house the two of you had gone to earlier. It wasn’t your house. It belonged to some random family. You could recall seeing their photos on the walls, a happy family of four.

Steve said something to you, but it didn’t really register. He pulled on his uniform and went to check it out. That didn’t really register, either. All you could focus on was the fact that you’d very likely gotten people killed because you’d been too stupid and distracted to notice that your cover was blown.

By the time he returned, you had turned on the news to find that the explosion was being blamed on a gas leak. The grim expression on his face told you that definitely wasn’t the case, but you already knew that.

A couple more hours passed in silence as you stared blankly at the television. You weren’t watching it. You weren’t paying attention at all. Instead, you were reliving every single mistake in your career and as much as Steve desperately wanted to reach out and hold you, help you feel better, ease your pain, he didn’t.

Things like this always hit you hard, but you never wanted comfort. You always had to handle it yourself. He’d tried in the past to help – told you that it wasn’t your fault, gently rubbed your back – and you’d shoved him away. You didn’t want to be coddled. You didn’t need it.

Except tonight, you did.

Steve went to bed first, sometime after eleven. It wasn’t that the night’s events didn’t bother him, because they certainly did. He’d just experienced things like this a lot more than you, especially during the war, and he knew how to compartmentalize. Somehow, he could still sleep at night, whereas he knew you probably wouldn’t get a wink of it.

He’d help you pack in the morning. He’d contact HQ. He’d write up the mission report. He’d do all of it for you, because he loved you. He’d do anything for you.

Sometime in the middle of the night, you stopped resisting your impulses. You crept up the stairs and, for a brief moment, paused as you stared at Steve’s closed bedroom door for what was probably the umpteenth time.

Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears as you slowly turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

The moonlight was streaming through the open curtains onto the bed, where you found him fast asleep. Of course he was. He’d always been a heavy sleeper, even now.

You brushed away a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead, and he almost seemed to lean into your touch; then you trailed your fingers down his bare chest, further south, pushing his sheets back along the way. The only thing he was wearing was a pair of soft plaid sleep pants that you’d teased him about once – said they suited him, the old man he was.

Right now, though, they were almost too low on his hips. Must have shifted sometime during the night.

His skin was damp to the touch from the summer heat. As your eyes trailed over him in the moonlight, you had a fleeting thought of how perfect he was and you stopped holding yourself back.

Your lips were hot on the sweat-slicked skin of his abdomen. He tasted like salt and smelled like heaven – like soap and fresh laundry, clean, with the slightest undertone of musk.

It turned you on.

You kissed your way up his body until he stirred with the softest, quietest moan, his muscles shifting under your touch. You didn’t stop. Instead, you met his dazed, half-lidded eyes with a sinful smile.

“Wait, wait,” he breathed, fumbling to take your hands into his. His voice was rough from sleep. “Talk to me, doll. Please.”

You didn’t.  

Instead, you nudged your dress out of the way and straddled his hips, which let you feel exactly how much you’d affected him. His cock was rock hard and straining against his pajama pants, and you did nothing to soothe it. Instead, you rolled your hips against him.

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, his head lulling back against the pillow. “It’s been a bad night. We shouldn’t.”

He didn’t mean it.

When you laced your fingers with his, he was so receptive – squeezed your hands right back, especially when you leaned down to kiss him. Your breasts nearly spilled out of your bra when they fell against his chest. With your dress half-unbuttoned, you saw his eyes flicker down to your cleavage for a split second before he looked back up at your face in awe, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

You kissed him, then, softly and sweetly, and sighed against his mouth, “Make me forget.”

Almost instantly, his hands left yours to cup the sides of your face, and he kissed you so deeply, so passionately that all you could think about was him. His lips were soft, but his kisses weren’t, especially when his tongue swept into your mouth as if to claim you, make you his, make you forget.

Then he trailed his fingers down the sides of your body, feeling every inch of you against him before they settled on your hips. He held you in place as he ground his hips up into yours, and you gasped against his mouth, relishing in the feeling of his hard cock against your folds – clothed or not.

The way he gathered you in his arms and lay you down on your back was sweet and gentle. He peppered kisses down your neck and torso as he finished unbuttoning your dress, before it was off entirely, discarded haphazardly to the floor – and then he sat back on his heels to just look at you.

You weren’t fully revealed to him yet, still wearing a lacy peach-pink bra and panties, but you felt absolutely naked in front of him. You were attractive, you knew that much – but the way his eyes took in every single one of your curves made your face flush like that stupid, clueless girl that had gotten people killed tonight.  

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss you again.

Something about the way he said it made you want him even more and you whined – actually whined – against his lips, “Baby, please.”  

Jesus Christ, he could have come right then.

Instead, he pulled away just enough to press a kiss to your stomach, your navel, your hip – and then he tugged your panties down and off before he buried his face between your thighs. He’d been wanting to worship your body for ages, and you deserved it now more than ever.

Your reaction was immediate. You gasped and writhed against his mouth, so much that he had to firmly hook his arms around your legs to hold you in place. You were so god damn responsive and it drove him crazy, especially when you gripped his hair in your fingers and pulled him closer to grind your perfect pussy against his face.

The taste of you was intoxicating – sweet, just a little tart – and he barely even realized what he was doing when he slid two fingers inside of you. Not one to start like he normally would have, but two, because you were so fucking soaked and desperate for him already.

“Stevie,” you whimpered when he curled his fingers up in a particular spot that sent you reeling.

God, he loved the sound of his name on your lips.

“Does that feel good?” he cooed against your slick folds, his hot breath sending a chill through you.

“Yeah,” you responded breathily, and you whimpered when he did it again. “Yeah, honey, just like that—”

Honey.

The word spurred him on and he went right back to devouring you, his tongue circling your clit as his fingers curled roughly against your g-spot over and over. It brought you higher and higher and higher until he couldn’t hold you down anymore and your back arched off the sheets, legs shaking against his shoulders as you came with a sharp cry.

When you collapsed back against the sheets, he crawled up your body to see your flushed, fucked-out face. Before he kissed you again, he went to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand out of consideration for you – but instead, you tugged on his arm and pulled him down to settle in between your thighs.

“Kiss me like that,” you told him, and he readily complied. You could taste yourself on his lips, but you didn’t care; all you cared about was the sharp breath he took in as you slid your hand into his pants and wrapped your fingers around him. His cock was hot, thick, and heavy in your palm, and you wanted him inside of you.

Your other hand slid his pajama pants down just enough to pull him out entirely, and then you ran the head of his cock back and forth through your slick folds.

Steve broke away from the kiss to lean his forehead against your shoulder. His voice was unsteady when he started, “If you’re not sure—”

But you just wrapped your legs around his waist, then, and used the leverage to drag him inside of you. All you could manage was the tip because of the angle, but at your eagerness, he actually growled – deep and feral before he slid the rest of the way inside in one fluid motion.

“Fuck, Stevie,” you gasped, “You feel so good—”

Then his lips were on yours again, swallowing every single word you wanted to say. He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t exactly gentle either as his hips rocked into yours so easily – almost like this was meant to happen, like the two of you should have been doing this all along. His tongue dominated your mouth as his hands caressed your body all over, palming your breasts, your hips, your thighs as he made love to you.

That’s exactly what it was. You knew it, and he did, too.

The realization of that brought you to the brink almost in an instant.

When he hiked one of your legs up higher around his waist, you felt even closer – both to him, and to your orgasm. It was intimate. It was perfect. The new angle was incredibly deep, and his cock reached spots inside of you that you’d never even known about before.

You broke away from his mouth to bury your face in his shoulder, arms wrapped tight around his neck. “I’m close, god, I’m so fucking close, Steve—”

Judging by the way he was throbbing so much inside you, he was close, too. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear when he rasped, “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back. “Fill me up, honey, please.”

His hands gripped your thighs even more firmly as he held you in place, his thrusts stuttering just a little at the knowledge that you didn’t want him to pull out, no—you wanted him to come inside you. You wanted him to fill you up. You wanted him to give you every single fucking drop of his cum.

“Fuck, Steve, I’m coming, I’m coming—” you babbled mindlessly against his neck, wrapping your legs around him even tighter as you reached your peak, pleasure cascading around you in waves.

Those breathless moans paired with your walls clenching down on him so tightly were what pushed him over the edge, and he buried himself to the hilt, filling you up just like you’d begged him for with a groan of your name right into your ear. It might have been the sexiest thing you’d ever heard in your life, but your mind was blissfully blank.

He left to get you a washcloth to clean up – the two of you had made a mess after all – and unlike how you’d been with Bucky, you let Steve take care of you. You needed it.

After he wiped you clean, you curled so snugly into his side, using his chest as a pillow. He pressed gentle kisses to the crown of your head and muttered sweet nothings to you, and his soothing voice eased you to sleep.

For the first time in a very long time, Steve overslept.

At first, he thought he forgot to turn on his alarm. Then he remembered that it automatically set itself every morning. He didn’t forget to turn it on. 

You’d purposely turned it off.

He knew that because by the time he woke, you were gone. He found a note from you downstairs, on the kitchen counter where you used to have breakfast every morning.

Headed to my next mission. See you around, Rogers.

It was that same curly handwriting as what you’d written in his little notebook. He recognized it in an instant, but when he realized what you meant by it – that this was a one-time thing, a moment of weakness, a lapse of judgement – he couldn’t say it didn’t sting.

What hurt worse was that, when he tried calling you, it went straight to voicemail and when he sent you texts, you read and then ignored them.

You brushed him off, because you got what you wanted.

He made you forget.

Master List

[n0-eyedtaissa]

Southside Siblings (Serpent Older Siblings!OC)

A/N: No one loves their own OCs more than @hugharekillianmelou and I, so here’s a little rundown of the friendship between Dante Fogarty (Fangs’ older brother) and Ruthie Soh-Peterson (Sweet Pea’s older sister). 

Word Count: 1,706

She’s twelve and he’s eleven. Dante knocks on the front door of the trailer, holding Fangs by the hand. It’s summer and the air is sticky and the Fogarty boys are both dripping sweat from their brows, looking envious at Ruthie as she licks at a neon orange colored popsicle. “Hi” Ruthie pushes the door open to invite them inside. Sweet Pea’s in the backyard, holding the garden hose as he filled up the kiddie pool. “My mom said we’re not supposed to have more than one of these today, but she’s not here so what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her” Ruthie opens the freezer to grab the soggy cardboard box of popsicles with Dante and Fangs hot on her heels. Sweet Pea and Fangs immediately got to work building the lego set that the Fogartys bought Sweet Pea for his birthday. The two little boys had been hanging out a lot since then, which wasn’t all that bad because Ruthie and Dante had taken a liking to each other. Dante shows off by lifting the lawn chairs all with one arm and Ruthie laughs, pulling two cigarettes and her heart shaped sunglasses from the pocket of her overalls. “Abuela says that smoking causes cancer” Fangs calls out from across the yard, nose wrinkling at the smell. Dante chucks his popsicle stick at his brother, “Callate, Abuela ain't here,” He looks at Ruthie and nods; they understand each other now.  

She’s fifteen and he’s fourteen. Part of Ruthie breaks that year. Her and Sweet Pea lose their dad; Major Chase Lang Soh died in active combat in Iraq, but he was buried with a medal that meant he did something good before he died. Ruthie promises Sweet Pea that their dad died a hero. Dante doesn’t know what to say a lot of the time, but he always invites them over for dinner when he can. Some of the boys from the basketball team make fun of Ruthie in her Pop’s uniform, but Dante shuts them up real fast. He learns to fight, she learns how to patch him up. It comes in handy pretty often. The two of them sit in the middle row of Advanced English and cause a little trouble, sharing bright colored plastic bags of chips they bought from the Southside Bogeda before school. Some things were changing, though; there was a lot that Dante couldn’t tell Ruthie now. The Serpents had their snake eyes on him, waiting to sink their teeth into his innocence. Fangs listens to Ruthie but not his own brother, it pisses Dante off royally and Ruthie loves it. She’s the first person to get Dante high. Her and Sweet Pea’s mom forgot to pay the power bill so there’s nothing else better to do; Ruthie shoves a towel and the bathmat under the doorjamb and sits in the basin of the bathtub as she broke up little green leaves. Dante coughed then he inhaled but Ruthie doesn’t make fun of him for it, she just hands him her water bottle and moves on.

She’s nineteen and he’s eighteen. Everything gets really bad all at once. It seemed like a sick sort of revenge after the relative easy year they had before. The year before wracked both Ruthie and Dante with unease, both waiting for the other shoe to drop. At the end of the school year Ruthie asked Dante if he’d go to prom with her. She found a dress over at Southside Thrift and Dante pretended to be a real gentleman; bought her a corsage, drove her in his truck, told her she looks pretty cause he knew that was what he’s supposed to. Both Sweet Pea and Fangs thought this meant wedding bells, but they were the only ones. The two of them ditched the dance to dip their feet in the pool and pass a flask of warm whiskey back and forth. That was when the two of them thought the hardest thing they would have to deal with was the killer cold they both got after walking in home in wet dress clothes after taking a dip in the pool that evening. How stupid they were. Ruthie spends the months leading up to her nineteenth birthday in and out of courtrooms,  finally takes her mom to court over child abandonment. She cries as she listens to Emilie deferent herself, is forced to hear all the ways in which she’s failed Sweet Pea. “I’m gonna lose him, this is it, isn’t it?” She’s crying over the court recess and Dante is petting her hair. When all is said and done, Ruthie gets custody over her brother and Dante is there to celebrate, holding a twelve pack of beer under one arm and a cheap grocery store cake under the other. “You and me are family, you know? That ain’t mean that we blood related, just means that we’re there for each other when shit hits the fan” Ruthie remembers Dante’s words, can hear them echoing in her ears when shit hits the fan. Pallaton Abrejo gets shot in close range, bleeds out in his living room, his whole family there to watch as his breath shallows. Dante’s been going up in the ranks of the Serpents, he’s there for the aftermath of it all. His hands are still caked in sticky half-dried blood as he knocks on the door to the Soh-Peterson trailer. He’s catatonic, Ruthie tries to talk to him but he’s not responding. Ruthie tugs him by the hand, bringing him into the bathroom where she proceeds to dab at his wounds with a damp washcloth. The water in the bathtub runs red but Ruthie keeps refilling it, whispering to Dante about how everything was going to be okay, that she loves him and that they’re family. Sweet Pea wakes up in the commotion but Ruthie sends him back to his bedroom. Dante can’t talk yet but he’s crying and Ruthie considers that somewhat of an improvement. Through muffled sobs he cries out “Don’t leave me”. Ruthie cradles her best friend and promises that the wouldn’t. 

She’s twenty two and he just turned twenty-one. Ruthie and Dante get into their first real fight; she doesn’t want Sweet Pea to join the Serpents, but Dante understand it, sees his need for a family of people just like him. Sweet Pea gets his Serpent tattoo on his neck…wonder who he got that idea from….Ruthie rolls her eyes at Dante as he tries his best to pull his hoodie strings taught in order to cover the tattoo he had in the same spot. “It’s a part of the job” becomes an excuse for any injury, and Ruthie gets sick of hearing it from both Dante and Sweet Pea. She carries her medic bag on her daily and Dante laughs, calling her paranoid. He has PTSD dreams now; can still feel the blood on his hands, can feel the high-pitched ringing in his ears. Death becomes more tangible. He wears all black when he speaks at his father’s funeral, manages not to trip over any of his words because Ruthie’s sat in the front row of the church pews, nodding at him to keep going. That he’s got this. Ruthie never really god accustomed to how shitty it felt when people left; first it was Spyder, then it was CD, and Dante wasn’t all that far behind them. Those three boys had always been her “protectors,” but she never really needed it, she always wanted them around though. “You’re gonna be bored without me, huh mamas?” CD flirts with Ruthie as always as he wipes a stray tear from her eye. “You call me when you get there, okay?” She wraps her arms tight around Dante, not wanting to let him go. She tucks a sprig of lavender in his back pocket before he puts the last box of his things in the back of the old truck. Dante’s knees crack when he leans down to talk to Fangs, “It’s your turn to hold down the fort now, compa,”. It’s the last that anybody hears from Dante for awhile. 

She’s twenty-seven and he’s twenty-six. Both Ruthie and Dante were feeling a little bit more hopeful about life nowadays. They both learned that love came in many shapes and sizes; they both start looking a little bit different at the people they’ve known their whole lives. Maybe they weren’t loveless after all. When they were sixteen and seventeen they promised that if they were both single at age 35 they’d get married to each other. “For tax benefits,” Dante prompts, shaking his best friend’s hand. “Yeah. For tax benefits.” Ruthie echoes him and it’s a promise that’s set in stone. Later that year FP Jones asks for Sweet Pea’s blessing before he finally proposes to Ruthie, Dante is the first person she calls after it happens. “Can I finally say ‘I told you so’ now?” He asks and Ruthie wishes she could reach through the phone and smack him. “Fuck you,” She’s smiling into the receiver, though. “You know, Mrs. Ruthie Jones ain’t got a bad ring to it���. Dante’s the man of honor in the wedding. Both Sweet Pea and Fangs come down from college for the ceremony. It’s more of a reunion than anything. “Do I look okay?” Dante is the first person to see her in the dress and he’s blown away by how Ruthie, of all people, was able to pull off such elegance. She lifts up the hem of her dress and Dante is in stitches when he sees that his best friend has traded in high heels for her favorite pair of converse. He puts his finger to his lips and makes a locking motion, this was a secret like many others, all safe with him. Ruthie cries when Sweet Pea gives the big wedding toast, and Dante offers his silk pocket square so she doesn’t smudge her mascara. He’s the first person to cut in for a dance, “Are you happy?” She nods emphatically because for the first time in a long time, Ruthie is happy. And so is Dante. 

[just-some-random-blogger]

Noodle City

NCT Chef!Wong Yukhei (Lucas) & NoodleMaster!Lee Sooman Characters: NCT 2019 bro, Lee Sooman Summary:  Lucas was a scholar of the dying art of noodle making. And when I say scholar, I strictly mean in the sense that he is studying it, not in the sense that he is excelling. Master Sooman however sees great potential in him. Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: CRACK LINDA CRAAAACK, fluff, more crack, typos?, etc.

A/N: Back when I hadn’t memorized NCT’s names, I thought it was quite impossible, and since lucas was one of the first people i knew, i imagined him naming his members... but as noodles beCAUSE THEY’RE ALL SO SKINNY FEED THEM SM

Through the busy streets of Seoul you may come across a famous restaurant, known for it's greatness in noodles. On one slow day, the owner and master maker had a class in the back of his shop. The master was teaching his only student how to get used to using his hands and not the machines he was so accustomed to.

After explaining he had to make twenty strands of noodles, he had left his apprentice of two weeks to make it on his individually, by hand, by himself in the kitchen with the freedom to use whatever he wished. He had not yet shown him the way to make noodles, maybe a few moves and techniques here and there, but the task was a step higher from what his student was used to, which was more than enough for the master he to make sure of him.

When he came back, he was instantly bombarded with a man who resembled a young boy on Christmas. His big eyes did match that of a child.

"Master, look at what I did!" Lucas smiled widely, raising a metal tray of thin strings of dough.

Lee Sooman, the last remaining practitioner of this dying, ancient art of noodle making, squinted at the strips before his eyes, "Mwo ya?"

"They're my noodles," Lucas smiled proudly.

The shorter, older man peered up at the face of his only student and adjusted his glasses.

It was not that the master could not teach many at once or could not find anyone else to teach, but it was because he did not see anything in the ones who say they are willing to learn.

He however thinks this culinary chef who had traveled far for him was a winning candidate.

The broad shouldered man sniffled and blew strands of his blonde dyed hair out of his face.

No, the eager souled being didn't really have an allergy to dust nor to flour. Lucas supposes the runny nose he had was due to the fact he accidentally kept snorting the flour up like cocaine and choked on it on many occasions. It wasn't his fault he was too tall and had to all the way bend down to see how his craftsmanship was holding up.

Though I suppose it was his fault that he kept falling out of balance, sucking in some powder on along the way to find his centre of gravity.

Actually, no. It was gravity's fault, not Lucas's.

The noodle neophyte wiped his philtrum with the back of his hand, unknowingly smearing the same substance that caused him to sniffle across his left cheek.

His master was about to tell him about it, but was silenced by the intensity of the voice that spoke.

"Look, look! I even named them, look!" Lucas chirped, bringing his pride and glory to the marble counter he had birthed them.

 Sooman spared an exhale of withheld breath and narrowed his eyes at his could be successor. He placed his hands behind his back and walked over to the young man.

"Here, look." Lucas turned over his shoulder and awaited for his senior to come to his side. Once he approched, Lucas continued, "This one's the first I made. His name is Taeil. He's Korean like the rest of them, exceot for those who are not. I ended up making him kinda small, but that's okay. Anyway, he has a big heart to make up for it," he pointed, "which is why this part of him is kinda bumped. It's his heart though, not a boob."

The man tried his best not to react in a way Lucas may seem negative, so instead he asked, "you named it?"

Lucas hummed.

"All of it?"

"Well, duh. This is my first time actually making noodles by myself so I have to. I even took pictures, wanna see?"

Sooman flattened his lips together.

Lucas mimicked the action to a degree, "I see. I'll take that as a no."

He offered a smile nevertheless.

"Okay, next one is Johnny." Lucas pointed, looking to the tray, to his master, and back again. "I tried to make up for what I didn't do to Taeil but then I ended up making him too long." He pursed his lips and nodded, "he's really funny, fun to be around, really good at English, and is a total meme."

Sooman's forehad wrinkled. Meme?

"Then next is Taeyong, who ended up kinda small, but that's fine. He's the type that seems like he's going to eat tou whole, which is ironic if you ask me, since he's a noodle, but he's actually a big pile of fluff once you hear him speak. He's really good dancer, great stage presense, and has good leadership skills, which is why I have decided to make him the leader of Noodle City, or NCT for short."

Lucas smiled once again afyer explaining, and pointed, "Yuta turned out to be just right size. He's Japanese, I reckon since I used some of that favorite flour of yours, the expensive one from Osaka, to fix him when I--" the look and Sooman's face made Lucas's words slower, "got him.... wet." The blonde haired boy cleared his throat, "He's good at football, and uh... he's got a great personality-- just like you," he chuckled nudging his mentor.

There was no reaction.

"You said I could use anything though."

Silence.

He cleared his throat again.

"Next is Kun. He's Chinese, like yours truly. He's great at cooking, better than me, I hate to admit, though not really because I was the one that made him that way.  He like to makes food for his noodle children like the nurturing parent figure he is." Lucas chuckled.

It was not so much out of character that Lucas would go out of his way to do something like this, but Sooman found it amusing that he made one of his characters better than him at something,when he proudly arms himself with the fact he is the top chef, The Iron Chef, from Hong Kong, who's leaving his mark all across Asia, making it his playground-- or rather is kitchen. Yes he did boost his ego along the way, but it was funny nonetheless.

 "Doyong over here is kind of tricky." Lucas continued, "He's very concerned, very smart, very much like a parent figure too, but he has a scary part to him. He has a bright personality and does want the best for his noodles, but deep down he's listing everyone's weaknesses and will attack swiftly all those that cross him!"

The man with greying hair knit his brows and found himself pulling his head back slowly.

"Moving on. This is Ten, or Chittaphon Leechiyapornkul. I went to Thailand once and so I decided he'd be Thai, but actually Chinese because well, I'm Chinese, and there is a lack of Chinese among them and, well, diversity. He's the squiggliest out of all of them." Lucas bit his tongue as he smiled.

He pinched the bottom of the noodle and moved him back and forth, "See? Look at how fluid he is."

The man with a cartoonish smile nodded at his work in approval, "He's a really good dancer. Plus, he sings really well too. I mean, they all sing and dance really good, but that's not the point.

"This next one I decided to give him a birthday on Feburary 14-- just because, even though it's the middle of summer. I named him Jaehyun, and he for some reason reminds me of bread. He looks very soft, which he is, but his noodlity is nice and firm."

"Did you just say noodlity?" the old man asked.

"Yes.

"---"

"Yes, I did."

"---"

"Jaehyun's noodlity doesn't need to be tested for it is firm."

Lucas turned to back to his work, still as pleased as ever, and counted on his fingers to keeo himself back on track. "Ah, next is Winwin because he never loses. Ayeeee."

There was no reaction but Lucas was still proud. He pat his chest with enough force that there was a puff of flour in the air. "Just like his dad. Aye!" Lucas dabbed, and Sooman merely looked at him. After settling down, he went on, "He's a real diamond in the rough. He's really talented, he's capable of so many things, but some people over look him for some," Lucas smacked the surface before him, "ga'damned reason."

He's getting upset over the fictionality he gave his noodles, Sooman thought. Odd.

Lucas heaved in and out heavily and went back to his senses. "Anyway, this is Jungwoo. Soft on the outside, soft on the inside, just a real big softie. You must protect him with all your life. He cries in passion. He's a real sweethert." the tall man gave a lopsided smile and clicked his tongue. "I love him so much-- I mean I love them all, but I love him."

 It was undenibale that the noodle master found the way his apprentice gave life to his lifeless work amusing to say the least. Though in the back of Sooman's head, he knew he should've stopped him the moment he introduced his first noodle. But it was far too late now, he had already spoke about half of them. It would be extremely unfair to the latter noodles if they were to be left unmentioned.

"This one's Mark. He's Canadian, not comdian, though personally, I know the cute little fellow would be really funny, or would find me really funny. But I mean, who doesn't I tell really great jokes." Lucas gave an airy ha, ha, ha, and pointed a finger gun at the man beside him.

"Next is Renjun. He's also Chinese, but is confident in Korean and Chinese. He has a bright personality and is a real goofball. Don't let that trick you into messing with him or his dongsaengs though. He'll rough you up.

"Then there's Na Jaemin, or Na-na! I personally think his nickname is the cutest thing in the world-- no bias. He's really sweet but will kill you if he gets a chance. He's not as good as speaking English as Johnny or Mark, but he's actually also really good at it too."

At this point, the older man adjusted the rims seated on his nose and spared an airy chuckle.

The younger man felt warmth in his chest at that.

He proceeded, "Jeno here, spends a lot of his time gawking at his sunbaes, thinking how great they are. He's really great too, but he believes he should still work hard, which is good. I taught him that. I'm proud of him, of both of us.

"And Haechan over on this side, rolls with the his hyungs most of the time, and so he has this air around him that makes him feel like he's all that, but he's not, really." Lucas proceeds to giggle, "he's still very much a dorky kid at heart and outside, honestlt, but in his head, he's really cool. I mean he is, but he's not, but don't tell him that.

"On to the last two. Here we have p Chenle, a big, big bowl of fruity sunshine who's confused in Chinese but just laughs it off in Korean. He is a ray of sunshine, and he's so sweet and pure and GAH," Lucas shouts, shielding the noodle, "don't touch him!"

Sooman didn't dare even flinch.

"And then baby Jisung. He's the youngest, but he wound up becoming quite long. I bet he'll get longer after he's been cooked. But he's quite thin though for my taste. I mean, honestly, they're all pretty thin to me. I dom't think it's healtht but that's how they turned out to be."

Lucas crossed his arms, "They should really eat more rice. I mean, if they were actual people, I'd call them over and feed them as much as they can eat."

"But they're not people, Yukhei. They're noodles." Sooman finally spoke after a while.

As much as he liked being called his Chinese name, he also felt tremendously nervous everytime that name of his was called instead of Lucas, especially since it was the name his teacher had decided on calling him.

"Kure," Lee Sooman huffed, "prepare me a--"

"Jangkaman," Lucas raised a hand, "those are just 17. I made three more separate ones."

The young man dashed off, leaving the older man to follow him with his eyes.

He ran back quickly holding another tray, much smaller than the first one.

Lucas smiled ear to ear, extra giddy, "I got bored after a while so I experimented on some Chinese flour, just to see what the difference would be. I mean, I don't see anything, but these ones came out really pretty. I mean they're all pretty, but- these one's are Chinese-Chinese. Not that the ones who are Chinese aren't but... ... I just realized this has nothing to do with being pretty. Sorry. I don't remember what my point was."

 Lucas showed the tray that held three pieces of noodles. He placed the smaller tray next to the larger one on the marble and took them one by one.

"Xaojun," he said, placing him on the tray with the rest of the noodles, "Yangyang," he adds, repeating the same action with a differnet noodle, "and Hendery."

Lucas looks at his work in satisfaction and looked to Sooman, "They're all Chinese; Hendery is from Maca--"

"Araso, araso," the professional noodle maker spoke, finally cutting the young one off. "You made a noodle city..."

Lucas pursed his lips, "Hmm, yeah."

"But with only males, so fundamentally just an overpopulated boy group."

"Hmmm, well, I actually made a separate batch of noodles, but I spilled some red food coloring on it. I was thinking of making a Red Velvet concept-thing, I already even had a Seulgi and Irene, but then I remembered you don't like adding unnatural additives to noodles, or anything you cook, so I scratched that."

"I digress," Noodle Master spoke. "Boil up your noodle city-" "you can just call it NCT, cause you know, N is for noodle and CT is--" "NCT and make me a dazzling bowl of noodles."

Lucas pursed his lips, noddedm and soluted. "Yes sir."

 Lee Sooman awaited the dish from outside the kitchen and sat soundfully. He could hear Lucas's professionality from outside and the smell wafting around was only  helping to support that.

When Lucas emerged, a delicious aroma followed, though the master expected no less.

The old man tasted the soup-- supurb, the beef-- well-cooked, and then the noodles.

He got his chopsticks and placed the boiled dough strings in his mouth. It all varied in texture and firmness. In his mouth, he could swear, he tasted the character of the noodls. He was torn between deciding whether or not it was a good or bad thing. The noodle master slurped up a strand and wondered which noodle it was along the way. Maybe it was that Johnny one because of it's irregular length, or was that Jaehyun? Jungkook? Jeonghan? He couldn't remember. Which one was the one that was really funny again?

Ah, how could Lucas think of 20 different characters and remember?

Lee Sooman really was getting old, huh?

Anyway, Sooman turned to his student who bore the same bright eyes he always had.

"Yukhei," he started, "did I ever tell you why you're my only student?"

The apprentice nodded slowly, brows knitting, "You said it was because you saw something in me."

"Ye. In all my days as a noodle craftsman..." he chuckled, "I have never encountered one who made twenty individual noodles that came with a biography."

The blonde stuck out his lower lip, "You didn't even hear about Yangyang, Hendery, and Xaojun."

The man chuckled, "Ye, ye, tell me about them later, but for now you must listen. The reason why I chose you, why I am teaching only you is because... well, let's put it this way-- I see you as my noodle. I have seen and placed an esteemed character in you that I have not others. Though you may be big headed and airy at times, I know you hold layers passion, it is flowing in your veins. And I know a lot of heart, and you put a lot of heart in what you do."

Lucas looked at his master, speechless. He had heard many compliments about him and his work, but he felt it, he felt this was most definitely the most genuine one out of them all.

"Of course your noodles... your noodles are horrible." Sooman chuckled, making Lucas do the same but in a much miniscule version, cheeks heating up as well.

"But they have character-- literally," the old man laughed again, "and so I've decided to tell you all the secrets, teach you all I know, and help you mold that character and carry on this sacred tradition."

Lucas licked his lips, and felt his eyes go glassy. "I WON'T LET YOU DOWN!"

The old man laughed, "I know."

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Arranged Chapter Eleven

Description: Y/N is a struggling student in Seoul: working multiple jobs, living in a broom closet apartment, and often sacrificing her dignity for the sake of her livelihood. What happens when a handsome stranger presents her with an offer she cannot refuse at the moment she needs it most?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Word Count: 6,673

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Chaebol!Au, Company!Au, Arranged Marriage!Au

Warnings: Coarse language, although not frequently

A/N: Hey guys! As always, thank you for being so kind and supportive of the fic and of me! It means more to me than I will ever be able to convey. I’ve had a pretty hectic week this week, so I’m hoping it’s not reflected in the chapter! I’m running on empty haha, but it’s good! I always feel the most productive when I’m struggling a little. Sorry to post this chapter a bit early but I have work at noon so I can’t post during my regular time! Anyway, please send me an ask if you want to chat or have theories/ideas about what you think will happen! I love seeing where your heads are at. As always, do feel free to send me feedback, critique, questions, or really anything! I love talking to you guys, and I’ll respond to all messages I receive within a day of receiving them! I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 

–Mercury

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen (END)

———————————————————————————————————

I stared at Jungkook and tried to piece together what he was saying. He sounded so small, his voice trembling more than his hands as they held mine. If I wanted to refute it, to tell him he was wrong and that he’d never betray me, the genuine fear in his brown eyes halted the words in my throat. Whatever he was up against, he was certain about the outcome. Was this perhaps what he’d been trying to tell me the night before? 

“Jungkook,” I said softly, using my now-damp sleeve once again to dab at his eyes. “Listen, I know you. You have a good heart. If you hurt me…I know it won’t be your fault. You don’t have to exile yourself.”

He shook his head and pushed my hand away. “But what if this is the choice I have? The only one that keeps everything the way it should be? If I just…remove myself then-,”

“Then what? Does that negate whatever choice your parents made? Who’s to say that you leaving will even change anything? Jungkook, there are some things you can’t run away from,” I said, then shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe you can change things.”

His eyes were still glassy, but he looked a little more lucid as he straightened up with a sigh. “I can’t.”

“Well, here’s how I see it,” I said, smacking his thigh so he would look at me. “You’ve got two options: you can run, and there’s a guarantee that you won’t make things better,” I began, shifting my eyes from the horizon to his eyes only to find them already trained on me. “Or you can stay and at least have a chance to change it.”

He stared at me for a good, long moment. The wind had picked up and the breeze carried fallen leaves in swirls towards the sidewalk. Behind his head a tree waved as tremors swayed gently through its branches. The leaves looked so transient as they passed, so impermanent. They were powerless to the force of the wind. But the tree stood tall, its branches dancing but never once relenting to the breeze.

“Okay.”

I smiled as the wind died down and I realized that, despite what he may think of himself, Jungkook was not transient. He was a steady tree.

“Yeah. I think I’m going to have to stay with him tonight if that’s okay,” I said into Jungkook’s phone.

Yoongi seemed to have a smile in his voice as he responded. “That’s fine. I understand.”

“Um…before I lose the nerve to ask…can we talk about what happened before I left? Maybe, uh…when I get back home tomorrow?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Okay. I think that’s fair.”

“Alright…um…I’ll see you at home.”

“See you at home.”

I ended the call, handing Jungkook his phone, and sighed into the nighttime air. Jungkook stood beside me with red-rimmed eyes and arms wrapped around his torso. We’d walked to his house, his parents’ home, and were standing before the large estate. I’d dropped him off the other night, but Yoongi had been the one to walk him in while I parked the car and called Yoongi’s driver. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit intimidated by the house, a massive four-story home built with modern aesthetics and sensibilities: fountains in the front and on the sides of the entryway, a long round driveway, white pillars and imposing external walls made of masonry. It was sleek, like something I’d seen in an architecture magazine once. And it was big enough to get lost in. Big enough to never see who else was living with you…

Jungkook glanced down at me, his face barely illuminated by the yellow streetlights, and I patted his shoulder before leading the both of us past the white iron gate and onto the property.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said quietly.

I shook my head. “Of course I do. If I’d been a better friend before I would have noticed you struggling. It’s the least I can do to look out for you now,” I said. He stared down at me with furrowed brows. “Why do you have to make it so hard not to like you?” he asked.

I blushed and smacked his shoulder. He chuckled slightly and held the white front door open for me before walking in himself. The foyer was marble-floored and sprawling, but I was more interested in the photos lining the walls of the entry. Pictures of a young Jungkook, clad in a taekwondo dobok and holding medals, laughing on the beach, standing in the water with floaties and a frown. I smiled as I stared at each of them individually.

“Um…yeah. That’s me.”

I laughed. “I could tell,” I said with a glance over my shoulder at him.

He fidgeted. “Back in Busan. Before my mom and I moved to Seoul,” he said.

At this I turned to face him. “You lived with your mom growing up?”

He shrugged and gestured towards the ornate stairway leading to the second-floor mezzanine. I followed his cue and let him lead me up the stairs, all the while playing with his hands. “Only until I was around ten or so. Then we moved out to the city since my dad wanted us all to be together.”

“Are you closer with your mom then?” I asked.

He shrugged once more and led the way down a hallway. He paused before a doorway. “This isn’t my room, by the way. If you’re uncomfortable.”

I stifled a laugh and shook my head. “I wasn’t.”

He nodded, suddenly stiff and shy as we traversed his home, and opened the door. Before us was a media room large enough to host a small convention, plush beanbag chairs lined up facing a screen and controllers strewn about. There housed every manner of video game, stacked in uneven piles all around the cluttered room. Several computers sat on sturdy desks behind us. Tacked on the walls were posters of different movies and games, even some singers or dancers. I examined one with a smirk.

“IU?” I asked through laughter as I stared up at a small photo of the beautiful girl amongst the sea of posters, hung with care from a string so as to not puncture the photo itself.

Jungkook stepped in front of me and furrowed his eyebrows. “Don’t snoop.”

“How was that snooping? You brought me in here,” I said.

He thought a moment and crossed his arms. “It’s my house and I say it’s snooping.”

“What?” I exclaimed with a laugh. “Stop being such a kid!”

“If you don’t like it you can go somewhere else. The house is big enough.”

“What, are you gonna call my mom and tell her to come pick me up?”

“Maybe!”

I was the first to crack a smile and, as I began to laugh so did he. We continued laughing together for a moment and it felt nice. Like things were okay, or at least if they weren’t okay that they could be. 

“Wanna play Mario Kart?” he asked.

I nodded. He dimmed the lights and ran the projector as I fell against the giant beanbag chair, handing me a controller before collapsing into his own fluffy nest beside me. He started the game and we waited in a comfortable quiet for the map to load.

“You know I grew up with my mom too,” I said quietly.

He glanced at me, face glowing from the bright screen consuming more than half the wall. “Yeah.”

I played with the controller in my hands and pursed my lips. “I think back on my childhood and I think…it was happy. But not the parts when I had money. I know it’s a horrible cliche, but I remember being happier without it. Like…when I was little and living in such a nice house, I was scared I might break something if I touched it. So I kept my hands to myself. I didn’t play outside very much. I mostly stayed in and drew pictures,” I said as the match began.

The both of us got a bad start, so I tried to make up for it by picking up speed around a corner. I was hit with the squid ink too soon, however, and my morale plummeted. I sighed as I decided to just coast in the back of the pack. I took a peek up at Jungkook’s screen and he was, predictably, in first.

But he kept looking at me when he could chance a glance, and I felt like he wanted me to continue. Something in the way his eyebrows knit together told me to keep going.

“Anyway, when we left that place was when I can remember the happier days of my childhood. I was messy and wild and I made a lot of mistakes and cried a lot but…I remember thinking every day was fun. One day I might come back to the apartment with a stray cat and my mom might scream at me and I might demand we keep it. Another day I might catch some teenagers smoking and throw my shoe at them. And another day I might sit by the river with my mom and eat a sandwich she made with the crusts cut off, just the way I liked it,” I said with a laugh as I idled in place next to a curve. “It was warm.”

“Warm,” he said quietly, slipping from first place to second. “Busan was warm in the summer.”

I nodded. “All of our precious memories are warm.”

He was in third place now, but still fighting to reclaim his spot, launching a red shell at Baby Bowser and striking him in the backside. “Do you ever miss those days? Childhood?”

I shrugged and let my remote sit in my lap, unused. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice my stagnation in the game, too engrossed in his power struggle with Princess Peach and Baby Bowser for first. “I think I miss the feeling more. Carefree. Like even if I made a mistake someone would clean it up for me.”

“Like you could come home crying and someone would fix it all for you,” he commented, now falling to fourth place.

“Mhm. Do you miss it?” I asked. “Do you miss Busan?”

“I miss who I was in Busan,” he said. 

I smiled gently at the screen as he struggled to escape sixth place. “Were you just Jungkook in Busan?”

He nodded. “Just Jungkook. No concept of money, no idea what the real world was like, just a happy kid with his mom in a beach city. He had friends who really liked him and his mom smiled a lot.”

“He’s you, Jungkook.”

“No he’s not.”

I sighed as he lurched forward into third place, overtaking Yoshi in the process. “I wouldn’t go back,” I said.

He turned to look at me in shock before returning his attention to the screen. “What do you mean? Why not?”

“Because even though things are complicated and ugly sometimes when you grow up, it’s also bright and colorful and fun. I’m still that kid even though things have changed. Getting to know yourself, getting to know the world…it’s good. Part of what makes growth beautiful is that it’s sometimes tragic. And the lessons I’ve learned along the way are things I would never want to give up for the sake of going back to being ignorant,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Right now is warm too.”

Jungkook’s position fell again to sixth, and then to seventh. He cursed under his breath as he continued to try to climb. “Then why do I feel like I’m always under cold water? Like I have to struggle to keep my head above it?”

I smiled at him as I thought. “You don’t have to stay there. You can get out. You just have to ask for help.”

He fell to eighth place as the other racers passed him. His hands had gone limp around the controller before, in the blink of an eye, he was in eleventh, his cart rolling to a stop right beside where mine sat on the curve. He didn’t have to worry about being first anymore. He could sit and rest for a moment with me instead. Slowly, he turned to look at me. Our eyes met and a silent moment of understanding passed between us. And then, wordlessly, he nodded his head. I felt the question in his gaze, saw it in the way his knuckles were bone-white against his skin. 

I would help him.

“Wanna play another round?” I asked with a smile.

I awoke slowly, disoriented as I opened my eyes and saw instead of my usual morning sunlight only darkness. I rubbed my face and squinted against the dark and, as my eyes began to adjust, I could make out the outline of a projection screen. Was I still in Jungkook’s messy game room? I stretched against the soft beanbag chair and glanced to the right only to see Jungkook still sleeping peacefully, barely visible against the dark.

I chuckled and thought about rousing him for breakfast or something, but decided instead to collect myself and take my leave before he work up. I wasn’t sure what sort of reaction he might have to finding out the two of us accidentally slept near each other for the second time. I stood and grabbed my jacket. I hadn’t even brought my phone in my mad dash to find him, so it was a quick escape from Jungkook’s lair. I exited into the hallway and scuttled quickly downstairs, my eyes burning from the sudden light. It was a gloomy day outside from the glimpses I caught through the massive windows in the foyer: the clouds forming a sheet of grey overhead and raindrops coming in bullets from the sky.

I was just pulling my shoes back on my feet in the entryway when I heard motion behind me. Jerking to the side, I turned around with only one shoe on my foot and was met, to my chagrin and shock, a woman who I could only assume was Jungkook’s mother. Beautiful with porcelain skin and black hair, soft dark eyes and not even one wrinkle, she stood with a mug of tea in a silk house robe, her free hand gently touching her chest. She raised her eyebrows at me. 

“I…Uh, hello,” I said, bowing deeply to her.

She returned it and offered a soft smile. “And you are…?” she asked.

“Oh! I’mY/N. I…Jungkook and I are friends,” I said, relieved that she seemed at least to be gracious.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed, pointing a manicured finger my way. “My apologies for not recognizing you! The last time I saw you was at…”

“My wedding,” I finished with a bashful smile. “I’m sure you’re wondering what a married woman is doing in your home, sneaking out in the morning.”

She tossed her head to the side as she appraised me with a smile. “Dear, when you’ve been around as long as I have you learn not to worry about what you see or don’t see.”

“No! I-I think you’re getting the wrong idea,” I said.

She shrugged and took a sip of coffee. “I’m not getting any ideas, my dear.”

“I…Jungkook and I are just friends.”

“Mhm,” she said with a chuckle. She glanced down at my shoes and pursed her lips. “You may consider checking your jacket, sweetheart. It’s inside-out.”

I flushed, mortified, and felt around my torso to find that, indeed, the seams were poking out awkwardly. I could feel the hood bunching near my neck, pressed against my back. “It was dark in the game room! I promise it’s not what you think.”

She smiled again, the one that felt knowing, and nodded. “Have a safe trip home, my dear. Tell Yoongi I said hello.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, bowing again as she flitted her fingers in a wave before disappearing down another hallway.

I felt my hot cheeks and rushed out the door before I could embarrass myself again.

I arrived home in the midmorning Sunday hours, my favorite time to be at the apartment. It was always so calm, so quiet. As I entered, however, it felt a little too calm, too quiet. Holly was resting on his bed by the TV, dozing as the pattering of rain against the roof lulled him to sleep, but he seemed to be the only living thing in the apartment. I furrowed my brow and crouched down beside the sleeping pup, giving his head a little rub before standing and glancing around the apartment. It looked like it always did: tidy, geometric, monochromatic, a little cold. The absence of Yoongi made it feel a little foreign though, especially when I was anticipating his being here so we could talk about what happened. How he…

I blushed before I could remember it all. His lips, plump and soft on mine, needy and desperate but passionate…

I shook my head. Where was he?

I heard the distinct vibration of a cell phone and remembered where I’d left mine, right on the coffee table. I jumped for it and dragged my finger across the screen to unlock it. I’d missed tons of texts from Hana, enough to fill a book, and a few calls from my mom. It was odd. Mom and I talked every other day most of the time, and she only really called when something was wrong. It put me on edge as I pulled up my messages. Twelve in the last two hours from Hana.

I am freaking out.

Why didn’t you tell me you had a side piece? ;)

He’s fine too…what, worried I’d take him from you?

I thought you liked Yoongi though.

Alright, teasing aside, what’s going on? You’re not usually like this. Like…spending the night at a guy’s house. I don’t know, I’m worried.

Give me a call or something okay?

I’ll send you the link to the article if you want.

Ah, you might not want to see it though.

Shit, okay I’ll send it but don’t click it if you don’t want to.

After your dad showed up…I’m sorry. I feel like you’re going through a lot.

Alright here’s the link http://www.chaeboltouch.com/back/bite.php/HVZ5T6

If you need space, I understand. Just…send me a text so I know you’re okay, alright?

I responded with something that accurately depicted my mental state, something simple that Hana would immediately understand.

Y/N: ?????

Hana: Jesus H. Christ you’re alive!

Y/N: It’s only ten though?

Hana: Baby, a LOT has happened overnight.

Y/N: What do you mean? And what were those texts about? I didn’t have my phone all night.

Hana: Did you click the link?

Y/N: No.

Hana: You might want to…

The conversation was ominous to say the least and, now concerned, I scrolled up in our log to find that link. Once I clicked it however, I kind of wished I hadn’t. Sitting there, staring at me from the depths of cyberspace, was a photo of me sitting beside Jungkook on a bench by the Han River at sunset. Me, a married woman dressed messily, wiping away a young rich boy’s tears with the sleeves of her jacket. I gaped as I took in the photo and the caption beneath it: Min Company COO Min Yoongi’s Wife, Min Y/N, seen up-close and personal with JJK Group heir Jeon Jungkook. A secret summer love affair?

I couldn’t read the rest of the article. Any site called Chaebol Touch surely didn’t have my best interests in mind. I pulled up my messenger again and, with fury blooming in my chest and my stomach, I typed a message.

Y/N: If those bastards knew what was really going on, they’d never post something so stupid. I’m livid.

Hana: You must be. Listen, is there anything you need?

Y/N: Besides the blood of my enemies?

Hana: Haha, I was thinking more along the lines of a warm breakfast and sangria…

Y/N: No. Thank you, Hana. But I’ve gotta talk to Yoongi. This is so messy. I’ll talk to you soon. Thanks for being there.

Hana: Anytime, babe.

I clicked the phone shut and tossed it against the couch, pacing back and forth along the rug and raking my fingers through my hair. Jesus, couldn’t things just be simple for a moment? Ever since I’d agreed to marry Yoongi my life had become a mess and I’d just been a passenger following diligently behind, cleaning up in its wake. I chewed on my lip as I thought. Who could have taken that photo? Jungkook and I weren’t nearly that famous. Whoever had taken it must have known who we were. Maybe they’d even followed us somehow. I couldn’t think of an incentive for something that sinister. To tear apart my marriage? Good luck. I was in a contract. To pit Yoongi’s family against Jungkook’s? From what Mr. Min said at the wedding, the company couldn’t afford to make enemies.

To ruin Min Company’s reputation…?

It was the only plausible conclusion. I furrowed my brow as I thought for only a moment before a call came through on the home phone. I lurched across the furniture to grab it and, without even checking who it was, I answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

Yoongi. Thank God. “Yes, yes. It’s me. I just got home. What’s this article?”

Yoongi sighed. “I don’t know either. I’m at the office with my PR team deciding what to do. I’m glad you’re home safe.”

“Me too, but…shouldn’t I be there too?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…I’m also involved aren’t I? This media firestorm happened because of me. Shouldn’t I be present?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“No. Y/N, it’s okay. I don’t know how much good you’ll do here. To be totally honest, I don’t know how much good I’m doing here,” he said with a chuckle. That he could laugh in this situation baffled me. “I snuck out of the meeting and they didn’t even notice. I think I’ll be able to come home soon if this keeps up.”

“Yoongi…”

“What?” he asked, a smile clear in his voice.

I exhaled heavily. “I can’t help but feel like you’re making decisions without me again,” I said.

He sighed, but I could still hear his smile. Was he happy to talk to me? Why did my insides go all fuzzy? “I promise it’s not like that. To be fair, I’m not even the one making the decisions. Just…rest okay? Take a nice bath or something. Play with Holly. I promised him I’d give him extra attention today, so do that for me.”

I pouted a little and looked down at the sleeping prince himself. “You also promised me something.”

Yoongi chuckled, the soft sound bouncing from the phone to my ears and hitting me straight in the chest. When had he been this tender with me? “Trust me, Y/N, there’s nothing I want to do more than come home and talk to you about what happened. Talk to you about anything, actually.”

I blushed and sat down against the chair, feeling my knees go weak. Even without him physically present, he could affect me. I bit my lip to keep from saying something silly. “Then why don’t you?”

He was quiet for a minute, then laughed. “Give me two hours. Two hours and I’ll be home. The PR guys just need my seal of approval before they do anything about the article. I’ll hurry them along and I’ll come home to you.”

Come home to you. My heart raced, hammered, thundered in my chest. I blinked against the haze of dreaminess that had overtaken me. It was hard to believe that only a few moments before I was raging mad about some stupid article. I smiled to myself, holding the phone a little more gently, pressing it a little closer to my ear, hoping to hear his voice just a little more clearly.

“Two hours?” I asked.

He gave a laugh. “Yes.”

“I think I can entertain myself for two hours,” I said softly.

“Hmm,” he hummed into the phone. “Okay.”

We were quiet for a moment, neither of us hanging up the phone. I wasn’t willing to release the moment, to relinquish it to memory. Were we flirting? Were we being coy? Something about it was so innocent, but also a little awkward, maybe shy. It made the thunderstorm outside, the articles deeming me an adulterer, seem distant. I was reluctant to do anything to alter the mood.

“What did you do last night?” I asked, a desperate ploy to keep him on the phone with me.

Yoongi chuckled and let out another long hum. “Sat around with Holly,” he said, then a little more quietly, “Thought about you.”

My heart rate doubled and I tried my best to contain myself. “Um…Hm,” I mumbled.

“Ah, shit. I have to go,” he said. Had he ever cursed around me? “They’re calling for me.”

“Go,” I said with a smile. “We can talk when you get home.”

He laughed and I could almost see his smirk. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

The call ended and I was left staring at Holly as his rhythmic breaths lifted his chest only to guide it down again, the only sound in the solitary apartment being the gentle pitter-patter of a summertime rainstorm outside.

In two hours I’d taken a shower, cleaned my room, tidied and reorganized the kitchen, chased Holly around the room after his long nap, made myself some tea and plopped down beside the windows to watch the raindrops race from top to bottom. I’d exhausted all of my ideas and was left laying listless on the floor, Holly laying curled on my stomach as I stared at the white ceiling. If he didn’t come home soon, I was certain I’d lose my mind. In fact, I was pretty sure the loss of my mind had already started.

I imagined Yoongi walking through the door, drops of rain clinging to the ends of his dark hair, longing as much as I did to be closer to him. I imagined him giving me his most dashing smile, exposing his teeth and his gums alike. I imagined him tossing his suit jacket across the apartment like he was some sixties movie star and scooping me up off the floor, sweeping my off my feet both figuratively and literally. I imagined he’d kiss me again, although the feeling my mind conjured paled in comparison to the real thing, and that I’d playfully hit his chest with a chiding, “I thought we were supposed to be talking.” To which he’d reply, “Body language.” And I’d swoon and gag simultaneously from the sheer cliche of it.

But my daydreams washed away with the rain as Holly used my diaphragm as a springboard from which to launch himself, landing gracefully on his shaved paws just beside the fluffy rug beside my hip while I was left clutching my stomach. 

“Holly,” I groaned, turning to face him. 

He yipped at me before trotting away towards his water bowl. I sighed at his indifference. He was beginning to resemble his father that way. My eyes slid from the path he’d taken back to the front of me, my body now facing that rug. The one with the cute little secret pocket beneath. The one that I promised myself I wouldn’t mess with again.

My fingers reached out on their own accord to play with the edge of the rug, furrowing my brow at it. There was so much I wanted to ask, so much I wanted to understand. I felt like there were things Yoongi and I talked about and things we didn’t. Some things were just…not up for discussion. His childhood, his upbringing, his family, his aspirations for the future, his deepest thoughts and darkest secrets…I knew none of them and I knew better than to ask. The thing I hated most about Yoongi was the part of him that I didn’t know, the part he kept locked away in a safe somewhere. Perhaps, by opening a real safe, I could also open the one that kept the unseeable parts of Yoongi’s life from me. 

“No!” I shouted to myself, pushing myself to sitting and turning my body away from the rug and towards the large TV across from it. 

I turned it on and began focusing my attention on an old episode of Happy Together. As they all sat together in a sauna, I thought I might like to have a day to destress in a sauna too. I’d never done it and-

God, who was I kidding. All I could think about was that safe. Even if I tried to distract myself with television and good thoughts, I was still a slave to my curiosity. I felt my hands reaching for the rug again, on their own again, unstoppable again. But this time I let them. I could just…look at the key. I could look at it and ponder it and that could be the end of it. I didn’t have to do anything with it. I was a responsible adult and I was capable of being unsupervised at home without causing chaos.

But as I felt the cool metal against my palm, I could feel my head reeling with all the possibilities. Could it be as simple as he said? Just some money and personal items of value to him? Could it be some photos from when he was young, maybe an old watch from a grandfather or something? If it was really that innocuous, then why had he seemed so unconvincing before, giving me that smile?

Didn’t I trust him enough to let him keep something private to himself?

I hated myself, but I had my answer as I gripped the key tighter and stood to my feet, bound for his bedroom. I parted the doors and entered slowly, closing them behind me. I’d never been in his room before, so I was careful not to disrupt anything as I took it all in. Somehow, it felt like him. Decorated in cool greys and soft whites, the room was a mirror of mine. On the walls were massive prints of albums that I’d never heard before: Unknown Pleasures by Joy Division, Views by Drake, Damn by Kendrick Lamar, a bright album cover by an artist named Suran. Even entering his room felt like I was seeing something new about him, uncovering the layers of secrecy that he hid with a straightforward and forthcoming attitude.

I sighed as I padded around, letting the muddled daylight filtering through the clouds guide me. I ran my fingers along his grey duvet, and along the spines of books that lay in stacks on his bedside table. Robinson Crusoe, Lolita, Demian, The Alchemist. A plethora of classic literature, and another insight.

I focused on my mission as the key jangled against my thigh and walked towards the massive walk-in closet across form his bed, the only way in which his room deviated from mine. I slid it open and found, predictably, lots of clothes. Monochrome and earth toned clothes. A sensible wardrobe for a sensible man. I cleared my thoughts, hoping that in so doing I may also clear the blush from my cheeks at seeing Yoongi’s room for the first time without his permission. I crouched down to the ground, searching for this safe, and came across perfectly aligned rows of dress shoes and, in the back, some well-worn basketball sneakers. I pursed my lips at them but pressed on nonetheless. Before I could worry too much, my fingers landed upon something hard and square and I angled my body slightly into the closet to get a proper look. I could see the metal edges of the safe and found the keyhole easily. For someone as meticulous as Yoongi, this seemed like such a silly and arbitrary hiding place. Either he didn’t value what was in this safe all that much or he really, really trusted me.

My heart leapt with guilt.

I shoved the key into the hole, trying not to think as I twisted it to the side and yanked the small metal door open. The light from outside afforded a pretty disappointing view, so I pulled myself out of the closet and sat instead just in front of it, plunging my hand into the darkness to pull out the first thing my fingers could touch. 

I examined with shaking hands a wad of hundred dollar bills, all wrapped in paper and sitting primly in the palm of my hand. So much money felt inexplicably heavy in my care, so I was quick to replace it as carefully as I could. I then felt around for something else and, fingers brushing the edges of what felt like a folder, I retracted my hand slightly. For a moment I hesitated. Whatever I pulled from that safe might very well be something I’d be better off not seeing. Would I really let benign curiosity make me cross a line that couldn’t be reversed? 

Indecision gnawed at me and I began feeling around for something else, anything else, but found under my touch only more files stacked on top of one another. I didn’t know why, but a foreboding feeling in my gut warned me to leave the files alone, to stop digging. But an altogether stronger feeling spurred me forward, forced my fingers to clasp around the edge of that first file and draw it from within the safe, settling the yellowish thing on my lap and staring down at it. Like the money, it felt heavy despite its weight and I stared at it while working my lower lip between my teeth. 

As much as I believed in Yoongi, as much good as I could see in him, I still felt like we were only playing at intimacy, like two kids pretending to be mommy and daddy. The real things, the difficult things, I wanted to see them all, know them all. But it seemed Yoongi would rather keep them away from me. And for that I resented him, if only just a little bit. The way he’d smiled at me when I found the key in the first place proved it to me. If I wanted information, I’d have to find it myself.

I had to force his hand…

And so I forced my own. Slowly, I flipped the file open so its contents were displayed clearly on my lap. At first, it didn’t look like much. Just a file on a person named Kang Eun. It was odd to see a person with a monosyllabic first name in Korea, but that was about the only remarkable thing about the file at first glance. I read through the file. This Eun person was a Korea University graduate with a degree in computer science. They graduated in the middle of the class, not particularly outstanding, but their transcript revealed the rigor of the classes they’d taken, classes I’d never consider taking. Apparently, this person’s background wasn’t great: mom was a seamstress and dad was a laundromat owner. The file also stated that they were born the same year as Yoongi, and that they grew up in Seoul. I wasn’t sure what good this information would do, as it seemed pretty common knowledge. 

But then I turned the page.

And I saw credit card history, transactions, notes on daily habits, work schedules, and all manner of horribly intrusive information that made my stomach churn with revulsion. A PI had surely been contracted by someone to gather this information. I checked the bottom of the second page for a date and, to my horror, found that it was issued only a few months before. Long before Yoongi and I had ever met. I wasn’t sure what unsettled me more: that he was the kind of person to violate someone’s privacy or that I had learned that fact by violating his…

I nearly shut the thing and shoved it back inside, ready to be done with it and every secret it promised to reveal to me. If this Eun person was important enough to hire a private investigator, I didn’t want to know what sort of information Yoongi had gathered on me.

But something caught my eye. Call it fate, or call it the corner of a digital photograph. I turned the page and my eyes became stuck, glued, to the photo before me. Because there, sitting in technicolor, was my husband with his arm wrapped gently around the subtle curve of a beautiful woman’s waist. He looked younger, shaggier perhaps. He looked like a kid, only bearing the slightest resemblance to the man I now knew him to be. He wore a big t-shirt over horribly ripped black jeans, a big, gummy smile on his lips as he posed with this girl in front of Namsan Tower.

And the girl…

Kang Eun as she appeared before me in the photo was a twenty-something beauty with long black hair and a slender neck, gracile collarbone, sloping shoulders that led to gentle arms wrapped loosely around Yoongi’s torso. She had soft, feminine features, amber eyes set upward towards Yoongi’s face. She looked like a young model, a starlet standing star-crossed with her lover. Her dress was flowing in the springtime breeze and I could see the trees behind their heads were beginning to blossom.

I was right.

Opening that file had been an irreversible act.

My heart ached and I felt all at once like far too much and far too little. Was this what it was like to see your boyfriend’s ex for the first time and realize she was, in every way, superior to you? No, this felt like more than that. Because when you see a photo of your boyfriend’s ex, you see it after stalking his social media, not sitting in a safe under lock and key, preserved preciously with care. 

I shut the file and shoved it back into the safe, wiping beneath my eyes as the implications of what I’d seen flooded to me in a sudden wave of emotion. In my distress, however, I was fortunate to hear the distinctive thump of footsteps from outside the apartment. I jolted to my feet and shut the safe, yanking the key from its hole and shoving the thing into the front pocket of my slouchy sweatshirt. Suddenly, I wanted to cover up more, to disappear altogether. Just when things between Yoongi and me seemed to be getting on track…

A past ghost and my own foolish, careless curiosity threw us backwards forcefully enough to knock the wind from my lungs.

I heard Yoongi at the front door as I exited his room, careful to mind my expression as I dabbed away the beginnings of tears from my cheeks. He didn’t need to see me crying. What right did I have to cry anyway? I was no more than a contracted partner, a business arrangement.

So, with my hands in my pocket, I fell back against the couch and began watching the rest of Happy Together. I couldn’t even force myself to look at Yoongi as he entered the apartment for fear of falling apart in front of him.

I never knew that uncovering the hidden parts of Yoongi would reveal parts of myself that I’d have rather kept hidden as well…

[ellaofoakhill]

Allmom AU Update #7: Where No One Finds Out Anything Important at All

7. Where No One Finds Out Anything Important at All

 A grin spread across Mitsuki’s face the second Inko walked through the restaurant door.

“Uh, hey,” Inko said as she sat down.

“‘Hey’?!” Mitsuki said. “You are going out with All—whatever, that’s not important.” She looked around for a waiter. “Dish. Lunch is on me.”

“He’s been coming once a week to give me updates on Izuku for the past month,” Inko said, her face growing hot, “we got along well, so we decided to try dating. I was going to tell you when I was sure we were a thing!”

“Too bad he’s not a muscle-man anymore, eh?” The waiter came around, and they gave him their orders.

“He gave everything fighting the villain that levelled half of Kamino Ward, Mitsuki,” Inko said, “give him a break.”

Mitsuki shrugged. “So now he wants to settle down. I don’t really blame him.”

“Settle—” Inko spluttered, “we’ve been on precisely one date!”

“Fair enough. You mentioned he’s well-educated,” Mitsuki said, “does he like philosophers too? That’s something of a deal-breaker with you, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry I think about things besides which famous people are boinking each other, and golf!” Inko hissed, failing to keep her temper in check.

Mitsuki’s grin widened at “boinking”, but she held up her hands. “I just wanted to know exactly how my best friend found herself at dinner opposite Japan’s number one hero. The intimate details are none of my business.”

Inko breathed a sigh of relief. Sort of. “Thank you, Mitsuki.”

“I’ll have to make myself a hypocrite, however,” Mitsuki said, “since I do have a personal question.” She leaned forward. “Are you going to tell him about Kimeru-chan?”

Inko rubbed the back of her head. “Well… he’s… kind of… a f-fan.”

Mitsuki blanked for a full second before she started cackling. “That is perfect!” she said, smacking the table.

“It is a little ironic,” Inko said, her cheeks getting hot.

“Okay, okay,” Mitsuki said, raising a hand. “I’m happy for you, whether I’m acting like it or not.  If you want to talk, you can. Or not, it’s your call.”

“Thanks.” They talked about little things after that, jobs and husbands, kids and hobbies. Inko could feel the restraint Mitsuki needed to keep from peppering her with questions. It wasn’t much better than a straight-up interrogation.

“The Kimeru-chan question only occurred to me,” Mitsuki said as she and Inko walked home after, “because Katsuki and his friends from school were apparently talking about her. I didn’t tell him everything, but I gave him enough to satisfy his curiosity.”

“Oh.” Inko said. “Wait, did they listen to a recording or something?”

Mitsuki shrugged. “Maybe. Why—oh. Does Izuku not know?”

Inko shook her head. “I left the music side of my life behind a long time ago, and he never had much use for poetry.”

“Well,” Mitsuki looked up at the sky, “considering where things could go with All Might retired, we may need some inspiring music in the days ahead.”

 (two weeks-ish later)

 “Oh, the baby gorilla was so cute!” Ochako said, bouncing from one foot to the other. “Did you see how she smacked the silverback over the head?”

“And he started playing a game with her, where she chased and he ran,” Ashido said, mimicking the silverback exactly. Hagakure laughed.

“I liked the flamingos more,” Kyoka said, licking one half of a twin-pop.

“Because they’re gay,” Tsu-chan said, grinning.

Yaoyorozu, licking the other half, took Kyoka’s hand. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Kyoka-chan, you should do a flamingo mating dance for Yao-momo.” Ochako and Ashido both sprayed their drinks over the railing. Yaoyorozu turned toward the next enclosure, her ears red.

“I cannot believe we got the day off,” Hagakure said. “And right near the end of summer. This is so awesome!”

“Aizawa Sensei said there was a major scheduling error, and the third-year class needed the TDL more,” Yaoyorozu said. “We should really be studying, I guess.”

“We’ve been studying for weeks!” Ashido said, running ahead to the tropical bird exhibit. “I need a break or my antennae are gonna fall off!”

“It is nice to go out and do something not hero-related for a change,” Ochako said.

“Hey, are we going inside the tropical house?” Tsu-chan said. “I want to see the poison-arrow frogs.”

“They are quite lovely,” Yaoyorozu said as she went through the door Kyoka held for her. “Like they’re made of glass.”

It was hot inside the tropical house, which really should’ve been obvious in hindsight. Ochako dabbed at the humidity condensing on her forehead. And then did a double-take. She tapped Tsu-chan on the shoulder.

“Oh. Who knew All Might Sensei liked birds, too?”

The others noticed where they were staring. “Should we say hello?” Yaoyorozu said, “Or leave him alone on his day off?”

That question was answered as the crowd parted. Ochako had met Mrs. Midoriya when Deku had invited herself and Iida over to his house to study. She’d been quite nice. She had not been holding hands with the Symbol of Peace, however.

“Who’s that?” Ashido said a little too loudly. All Might and Mrs. Midoriya both looked. Mrs. Midoriya looked like a deer caught in the headlights, her face reddening by the second. All Might spat what was either his drink or some blood.

The pair approached them. Ochako completely blanked. If someone had asked what her Quirk was, she couldn’t have told them.

“Hello, girls,” All Might said, wiping at his mouth. “I’d heard your class got the day off. There was a scheduling error?” His voice rose a couple of octaves as he spoke.

“Yes,” Kyoka said, recovering her powers of speech first. “We thought we’d go to the zoo and relax before we went back to work.” She bowed to Mrs. Midoriya. “All Might Sensei is one of our teachers.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Midoriya appeared to be slowly grinding into motion too. “You’re Izuku’s classmates, right?”

Ochako heard five brains stall in perfect synchrony. “Mrs. Midoriya, it’s good to see you again!” Ochako all but shouted, bowing so low she almost touched her toes. She heard a few errant squawks from the birds around them.

“I’m Asui Tsuyu,” Tsu-chan also bowed. She turned to All Might. “Is this why—”

“No, no,” All Might said. “We only met a couple months ago. Young Midoriya made an impression on me long before that.”

“Um,” Mrs. Midoriya said, “if you’d like to talk we can talk, but I’d appreciate it if none of you could mention this to Izuku.” She shared a look with All Might. “We want to make sure we’re a good fit before he finds out.”

“Yeah, telling him All Might is going to be his new daddy isn’t something you tell Midoriya-chan prematurely,” Tsu-chan said.

All Might laughed so hard he coughed up more blood. Mrs. Midoriya pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to him. “He decorated his room the same as at home?”

There were a few snorts. “Yup.”

“We were going to grab lunch after this,” All Might said, taking Mrs. Midoriya’s hand. “Would you care to join us?”

“That sounds lovely, thank you,” Yaoyorozu said. Ochako was pretty sure, along with the other girls, that she didn’t absorb much of the tropical house; there was too much weirdness for that. The idea of All Might and Deku’s mother as an item was… unexpected. But as she saw and heard the two interact, it got slightly less weird. All Might as the somewhat nervous, doting gentleman was cute, even if he was a skeleton, and Mrs. Midoriya was clearly on cloud nine.

As they finished in the tropical house, Tsu-chan nudged Ochako. “Hey, Ochako-chan, do we want to ask Mrs. Midoriya about Kimeru-chan?”

Ochako smacked her fist into her palm. “You’re right, this is perfect!” She looked at the others. “But let’s keep it quiet. We don’t want to put Mrs. Midoriya on the spot.” Tsu-chan nodded.

Ochako sidled over to Mrs. Midoriya. “Um, Mrs. Midoriya?”

“Yes, Miss Uraraka?”

“Do you—,” she lowered her voice, “are you Kimeru-chan?”

Mrs. Midoriya almost fell over, dragging All Might with her. Fortunately, Ochako just tapped the pair of them and made them weightless.

“What’s wrong?” All Might said, taking Mrs. Midoriya’s hand in both of his. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yes,” Mrs. Midoriya said. “I just tripped is all. Go on ahead with the other girls, I think Miss Uraraka has a personal question for me.”

All Might nodded, and asked the girls what they wanted to eat, letting them lead the way. Once they were a suitable distance ahead, Mrs. Midoriya started speaking.

“I am.”

“And Deku didn’t know.”

“Right.” Mrs. Midoriya blinked and looked at Ochako. “What do you mean ‘didn’t’?”

“Oh, um,” Ochako ran a hand through her hair, “All Might Sensei told us about ‘Remember the Sun’, he said he found it really inspiring when he was young. So we found a recording online, and Deku recognized your voice.”

“Twenty-nine years ago and he recognized me.” Mrs. Midoriya rubbed her face. “Oh, that boy has good ears. Find someone who listens half as well as he does, Miss Uraraka, and you’ll have a fine partner someday.”

Ochako blushed to her roots. “Y-yeah.”

Mrs. Midoriya arched an eyebrow, and a ghost of a smile spread across her face. “I’ve been finding out the last little while that, at the end of the day, don’t worry about what people look like or what they have, or even what they can do. All you need to worry about is how you feel about them, how they feel about you, and how you treat each other.” Ochako followed her gaze; All Might was taking some sunflower seeds he’d just bought and spreading them for the birds. “And take as much time as you need. I remember feeling that everything moved so fast at your age, but move at your own pace. Rushing things will ruin them if you aren’t careful.”

“Th-thank you,” Ochako said, “I’ll remember that.”

Mrs. Midoriya snorted. “Listen to me, dating for less than two months and acting like I know everything.”

“Well, it’s still good advice,” Ochako said.

They resumed walking. “So how is Izuku doing?” Mrs. Midoriya. “I always hear the school’s side of things, but how well does he get on with his classmates?”

“Pretty well,” Ochako said, relaxing now she was fairly sure she was on safe ground. “He’s incredible at solving problems and he’s always coming up with new inventive ways to use his Quirk. Everyone in class who doesn’t see him as a rival looks up to him.”

Mrs. Midoriya smiled. “That’s good. I thought he must be working hard if he could catch All Might’s attention.”

Ochako nodded. “He’s really strong, and even when it’s tough, or he loses, he just gets back up and tries again. I…” she chuckled, “I kind of wish I could be more like that.”

Mrs. Midoriya hmmed an affirmative. “I’m always a bit scared for him, especially with such a dangerous Quirk. But I am glad he’s happy and helping others so much.” She seemed lost in her own thoughts for a moment.

“Did Deku ever tell you about the entrance exam?” Ochako said as they approached the table.

“He thought he’d failed it,” Mrs. Midoriya said as she sat next to All Might. “What happened?”

Between them, the girls explained how the practical portion of the entrance exam worked. “I thought I was doing pretty good,” Ochako said, “until this enormous robot—the same one as the bunch that showed up at the sports festival—came at us. It was huge! It tore down buildings and ripped the street to pieces just going by! Everyone was trying to run away from it in the chaos, but I tripped and some rubble trapped my leg.” She shivered. “I was so desperate I didn’t even notice Deku until there was this huge whoosh and he was flying at it just like All Might!” Said All Might rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face. “A second later, and he just punched it straight in the face! Knocked it flying back! He was barely a dot in the sky, it was so huge, but he knocked it right over!” Ochako was about to tell the rest of the story, but realized who she was telling it to. “He saved me,” she finished.

“He does rush in without thinking sometimes, though,” Yaoyorozu said.

“Well,” Kyoka said, “sometimes when you’re in a crisis, you don’t have time to think. That’s part of our schooling, right? Getting the good reactions so quick and ingrained we don’t have to think?”

“Exactly right,” All Might said. “This is why there’s a lot of repetition. It might seem boring, but it can save many lives if you can do it without having to remember.”

Ochako glanced at Tsu-chan. Had All Might improved as a teacher, or was it just her?

“I’m glad Midoriya-chan isn’t Quirkless,” Tsu-chan said.

“Why’s that?” Mrs. Midoriya said.

“If he ran into a dangerous situation with no Quirk and no training, he’d be more danger than help.”

Mrs. Midoriya sipped her drink. “Yes,” she said, “I suppose that’s true.”

[quantumdotdot]

Marvel Masks: Earth-218, Session 1

We played the tabletop role-playing game Masks: A New Generation in an alternate version of Marvel’s Earth. This starts with stuff that we did as part of character creation, world-building, and “Session 0″ as it’s called, then going into the actual start of the narrative! I’ll be posting updates as the campaign continues.

You won’t need mechanical knowledge of the Masks system to understand it, though I definitely encourage anyone who’s interested in playing a superhero RPG, especially one involving teens, to give it a look.  I realized I’d never put this up anywhere but Twitter, and this campaign is honestly too good to keep to ourselves.

Also, shout-out to @Zhurenaissance for doing the lion's share of the initial world-building/prep; he's an incredible writer and I honestly couldn't have done it without him.

So, here ya go... Earth-218.

Cast of Characters

Shatterstar (he/him) - The Bull

Very tall (6’ 4”/6’ 5”), long red hair, about 18-19

Was actually born maybe(?) but thinks he was created in the genevats of Arize

Fought in gladiatorial combat on Mojoworld. Has 2 braids in his hair, a tradition for revolutionaries to show how many Spineless Ones he has killed

Tells people he and Rictor met by being at the same school

Billy Kaplan (he/him) - The Nova

16-17, skinny and short, wears t-shirts when not in combat

Has always been able to do small things with his powers

Recently had a back-against-the-wall moment with bullies and fought back, causing “property damage” when his powers manifested in full force

Hurt bystanders as well during the incident, which upset Billy. He found a mentor in Dr. Strange, who was training Billy to be the next Sorcerer Supreme, before Strange had his power stripped from him and stolen by some unknown assailant

Jen/Jennifer Walters (she/her) - The Transformed

Late 20s-early 30s, tall, looks ordinary

Jen is Jennifer Walters, not She-Hulk. Very important

Has been working as a lawyer/attorney in NYC, specializing in the rights of marginalized people, especially mutants

Her She-Hulk form changed dramatically post-Civil War and she is still dealing with the death of Rhodey, her boyfriend. Bruce also got killed shortly thereafter.

Tries not to transform into She-Hulk and has been hiding her emotions and grief. She is very unsure of her place in life, and looks to the kids of the team for help and support

Alex (they/them) - The Reformed

Looks 18. Looks thin, but is deceptively strong

Is a child created by Cyttorak the demon god to take over Teens totally normal human Teen, what are you talking about

“When our team first came together…”

Bull/Shatterstar: We defeated a dangerous enemy. Who or what was it?

Alex Summers. After Scott died, Alex was having a bad time, so Madelyne Pryor, Goblin Queen, convinced him to embrace his dark destiny as the Goblin Prince

Maddy has a classy black jumpsuit that shows minimal skin, whereas Alex gets a Sexy Badass Costume Change

The team fought off a bunch of goblins who had showed up at the school to claim it for the Goblin Queen

Nova/Billy: We destroyed our surroundings in the fight. Where was it? What did we destroy?

The fight was as the indoor/outdoor gym complex. Goblins took a basket hoop/pole, which was animated so that the hoop was a tongue and the backboard was a face. It blew a raspberry at the team as the goblins carted it away. The goblins also tried to take the biggest trophy from them but it ran around from them. It’s now a pet animated trophy.

Billy and Havok had a one-vs-one, Billy struggled with his shield powers, trying to shield the team and the school from Alex’s blasts, but lost control and the blasts ricocheted everywhere, collapsing several walls. Billy had to do detention to clean it up since the Xavier Institute is all about learning to take responsibility for your powers.

Maddie wasn’t happy with her Goblin Prince after looking at all the trash the goblins brought back.

Transformed/Jen: We drew attention and ire from plenty during the fight. One important person in particular now hates and fears us. Who is it?

J. Jonah Jameson now has an axe to grind against both the school and the team in particular after the mess from the goblin fight spilled out into Central Park a little bit. Not everyone listens to him, but a lot of the police and the Olds do. So that’s tough. He doesn’t have time for pictures of Spiderman now. Spider-Man has also never been confirmed to exist, he is a cryptid. JJ has hundreds of extremely blurry pictures of Spider-Man.

Reformed/Alex: We fought a terrible enemy from my old life. Who was it and what did they take from me?

Erik the Red worked with Maddy to send the goblins to the school as a smokescreen for testing Alex.

Nightmare also showed up at the school, who is this universe’s version of Toad; he’s a demon who is also part goblin. He carries a spinal hobby horse that summons a spectral horse that keeps the spine/bone ghost head.

Lower status among demons because he’s part goblin

He stole Alex’s staff from the locker room, that let them channel their powers through the staff while fighting.

Relationships

Shatterstar

Billy is your “love”.* You’ve opened up to them about the worst parts of your past.

Star saw the destruction Billy caused after standing up to the Goblin Prince and got stars in his eyes. He thinks Billy has the heart of a warrior and told him about his past in the dueling arenas, which freaks Billy out a little bit.  

Alex is your “rival”. They tried to control you at a crucial moment.

Alex knows a little bit about fighting, but they and Star come from very different schools of thought. They tried to tell Star how he should fight during the Goblin fight and Star holds a grudge against them for that.

* (Note: Shatterstar is still dating Julio, the "love" is a mechanical thing for Shatterstar's class. Billy is the only one he's opened up to on the team.)

Billy

You hang out all the time with Jen to blow off steam.

They bonded over baking cookies. Billy tries to bribe the other kids to be friends with him by sharing cookies. He once walked in on Jen hurling a stand mixer through the wall after getting frustrated, and now Jen calms down by watching Billy bake in the giant Xavier Institute kitchen. He learned how to bake at a young age by peering over the counter top on a step-stool when his bubbe was baking.

You once hurt Alex when you lost control of your powers.

Billy thinks that he hurt Alex during the goblin fight by making some that had poison spit lose their poison and accidentally hit Alex. Obviously, Alex is fine, but Billy still feels extremely guilty about all of it.

Jen

Shatterstar comforted me when I was at my lowest.

Star reassured Jen when she was about to Get Angry and hulk out after the Goblin fight. She was trying to stay calm and not lose her head after avoiding her ugly emotions and it hadn't been going well. Shatterstar helped by reassuring her that she had helped them and that she had a place with them on the team.

Laura / X-23 / Wolverine knew me before I changed.

Laura knew Jen from before, and fought her in a 1v1. Jen defeated her then, but ever since Civil War ended, Jen hasn’t been the same. Laura has faith in her that she can become the Jen she once knew again, so they can have a rematch and Laura can win fair and square this time, and so tries to encourage her. Laura maintains she could have defeated Jen if she had to though. Jen lets her think so.

Alex

I’ve earned the trust of Billy, and I follow their example of what a hero should be.

Alex wandered by when Billy was serving detention for the destruction he caused to the athletics facility. Billy had Alex help him clean up while they talked, and Alex looks up to Billy as an inspiration of what good guys are.

I did something terrible to Jen once. I hope they can forgive me one day

Jen was having trouble sleeping once, and Alex was a little low on energy, so they selfishly drained Jen, forcing her to go to sleep but leaving her feeling worse than it was. They feel terrible about it.

The Story, So Far...

It is the third and final day of the Super-Human Law seminar hosted by Jen at the Charles Xavier Institute for Mutant Academics and Outreach, located smack dab in the middle of Central Park, NYC. Once Jen has concluded her final topic and wrap-up on “Know Your Rights: How to Talk to the Police As a Mutant,” headmaster Kitty Pryde walks up on the stage and thanks Jen, calling for a round of applause. Jen looks visibly awkward. Kitty also brought up Claudette and Nicole St. Croix, the “Monet Twins” and the self-dubbed school cheerleading squad. They’ve composed a song with call and response that the whole school takes part in to see her off:

“Teacher and Students Yes-sir-eee We have a lot of fun Cuz’ Teacher and Students are We! Though our time is ending We learned a lot you see! We’ll never turn a frown Cuz Teacher and Students are We!”

The normally zoned out and distant Claudette transforms into a carefree girl for the duration of their choreographed song and dance. As soon as it ends, Nicole explains that she and Claudette wanted to show their thanks on behalf of both them and the entire school. The entire time, Jen was a bit tuned out, checking her phone and generally not loving being the center of this particular brand of awkward attention. Once the thanks are said and the dance number is over, Claudette folds back in on herself, only to be shuffled off the stage by her twin-caretaker.

After that, Kitty gestures to Jen to take a seat, and uses the opportunity of the assembly of 6th-12th graders to introduce the new transfer student Ginny Wayword. As she tries to introduce Ginny to the school, a loud thumping starts off-panel. Kitty keeps going with the introductions and a wide smile, but sweat starts to stream down the side of her face. The thumping gets louder, and eventually turns into vampires arriving by bursting through a wall in a cloud of bats. When the bat cloud disappears, it reveals a vampire lord with a group of hungry, feral vampires who reveal they are here for “Jubilation Lee” and demand that the school hands her over. Kitty tells Junior Squad to get in formation while she sizes up the situation and the rest of the students flee the assembly hall.

Meanwhile, Shatterstar has been running behind rapidly-emptying chairs, because he knows a threat when he sees one. Without waiting for the rest of the team, he leaps into action, stabbing the vampire lord with both blades. Rictor had asked him not to bring his swords to the assembly, so we get a flashback of him sitting at the assembly while his swords poke into the person next to him, and the person behind him tries to look around their hilts in vain. Shatterstar is smug in his knowledge that he was indeed right about bringing them along.

Star sinks his swords deep into the chest of the vampire lord, but it doesn’t work--vampires can’t be hurt by normal swords. The vampire laughs at Star mockingly: “Foolish mortal, swords cannot hurt me!” Star marks the condition Insecure because he’s just been laughed at by this vampire he tried to take down, and is locked in combat as he tries to free his swords.

While Star is in the fray with the vampire, Billy sees all the students trying to flee the assembly through the single door (the vampires broke through the wall with the other ones) and decides to shield them to make sure they can get out safely. Caveat being the team won’t be able to escape easily.

Alex finally arrives late with a piece of toast in their mouth, confused at why everyone’s leaving and assuming that means Jen’s speech is over. They try to clamber up to the stage with toast in their mouth after making their way through the swarm of students, asking Jen and Kitty what’s going on. They keep nervously talking through what they should do to combat the vampires while Kitty phases through her School Principal blazer, knee-length skirt, and hose, revealing her Shadowcat uniform under this weird ice skating costume version of Business Formal. Kitty tells Alex to get in formation as they continue to talk, but while they’ve been talking, the feral vampires have crept up on Alex. Alex tries to defend Jen and Kitty, and fails, and the vampires almost let Alex’s secret slip before they use their powers to drain some energy from the surrounding vampires.

With Alex, Shatterstar, and Billy occupied, Jen takes a second to assess the situation, realizing that the best way to end this conflict quickly is to give the vampire lord what he wants, or talk to him, which is gonna be a little tricky given that Shatterstar is currently grappling/being grappled by him.

Star takes a moment to roll backwards, regretfully leaving his swords stuck through the vampire lord’s Armani blouse for the time being, and asks what he wants with Jubilation Lee, and using that as an opportunity to assess the situation. He remembers from watching Buffy that wood can kill vampires, so he takes a particularly-splintery piece of wood and tries to stab it through the vampire’s heart. The vampire reads his move, and dodges with preternatural speed in a cloud of bats, reappearing behind Shatterstar as he was about to strike. The vampire lord hoists Shatterstar up by the collar, and, testing his weight, feels how light he is. The vamp gets curious and hurls Shatterstar as far and as hard as he can, smashing Star up against the part of the wall that’s still standing.

Star lands face-first, and his white eye lands against the wall, flaring up and glowing white as Star slides down the wall like a splatted bug. His powers go haywire from the blow, tearing open the fabric of reality as he falls like a knife cutting through a screen. The edges of reality splay open, revealing that Star has inadvertently opened an extradimensional portal into Limbo, where there are demons in jerseys playing basketball, a la the Mon-stars from Space Jam. Star is dazed, laying down on the ground beneath this tableau.

Billy, seeing Star in trouble, leaves the barrier where it is and sneaks over to try to help Star up. He tells Star what happened and asks if he can help, to which Star replies, confused: “Space…. Jam?” Once he comes to a bit, he tells Billy that he’s fine, and that Billy needs to go help the others while Star recovers.

The Vampire Lord, having finished with Star, turns to Jen and Kitty, finally introduces himself as “Alexandre Francois Bourgeois, Lord of the Vampires, head of the Bourgeois Clan,” and once again demands that they give her Jubilation Lee as he advances on them with his vampire legion. Alex sees this and tries to provoke one group of the vampires into a chase using themselves as the bait of a “tasty snack,” while Billy distracts the others by levitating and rattling chairs threateningly.

Alex’s plan fails though, and the vampires follow them, but not the way they wanted. Alex nervously tries to use their “Aw, gosh” demeanor to fend the vampires off, but it’s no use. We end as the vampires advance on Alex, saying they smell more like predator than prey, and taunting their attempts to appear as a normal mortal teen. Alex nervously replies "I'm not ugly, Arnold."

Final Thoughts

We didn't get to play too much because we did a lot of world-building, but overall I'd say Marvel Masks is a rousing success and I look forward to playing it again with the crew of awesome players I was lucky enough to have!

[loveluredd]

the coffee that we lost, and the moment that we gained.

“ It doesn't feel like I just met you, it's like I know you.   Better hold my feelings back,   because I just met you, and I don't wanna get ahead of myself. ” — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RP3yYCmE1ic

There is something to the early evenings in the winter months, the nip of the frozen air as it washes over your cheeks, leaving a pinched pink to complement the golden light that dances its way across every face that braved it. Many would opt for the sweltering days of summer if given the choice, but no, they weren’t for me. I preferred it when the world was painted in white, a blank canvas upon which you could splash your own colors. More often than not with a worn scarf in my case, interwoven wools that had faded with the years, but the memories made in their presence clung to each and every fiber. As much as I loved a chance to start anew, a slate coated in untouched snow, some things were harder to leave in the last chapter. I could hardly say that I remembered stepping foot into the coffee shop that sat on the corner overlooking my favorite view in town. The ritual was such a part of me at this point, that my muscles needed no guidance to steer me home, my mouth needed no supervision to greet whoever stood behind the counter by name, no hesitation would be found in repeating an order made time and time again. The only real indicator of the fact that I’d even stepped inside, was in the instinctive unzipping of my jacket, the loosening of my scarf, as the heat being pumped out by radiators and tired machines seeped through the layers of disconnection to let me know that they were no longer needed. Times gone by danced through my mind, as if invited by the touch of fingertips to the material looped around my neck, vivid flashes of days lived pulling me under their spell. As memories tended to, they didn’t come in long stretches, there were no scenes that played out in their entirety, instead I was left with snapshots. Crystal clear pinpoints in time, from which roots grew, spreading outward with the faintest feelings of familiarity, touches of emotion weaving their way under the surface, until the only part that stayed true was the original snapshot. The rest tainted by attempts at forcing puzzle pieces into spaces that weren’t made for them, willing them into existence, hoping that hope alone could create a bigger picture. Then, bump. A flash of reality, a startling hit of clarity among the blinding colors that swirled beneath the surface. It was him. Those were the words that came to my consciousness, well before the awareness of the hot liquid that had been knocked over us. Both caught up in our own worlds, we’d collided, our finest shirts now forever marked by the coffee that we lost, and the moment that we gained. After a split second where time had stood still, nothing but his eyes locked on mine and a rush of affinity, came a sudden flurry. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I am so sorry.”   The words came with a frantic grab and offering of napkins that he thrust in my general direction, earning an undiluted laugh from me as I set down the now useless cup of coffee to take him up on his offer. “I don’t know why you’re saying sorry, I was the one away with the fairies.” Splitting the pile of tissue between my hands, dabbing one bunch to my chest, returning his gesture to him with the other. “Dry that before it gets to your skin, death loves nothing more than a cold night and wet clothing. As my mother would say.”  A pause, as if a ghost had emerged from the shadows, just long enough to tap me on the shoulder and deliver a fright.  “Wow, am I really at the age when I start quoting my mother? Shoot me.” That was apparently the key to wiping the deer-in-headlights look from his face, trading it in for something closer to the humor that had settled upon my features.  “That really is tragic, you might as well head straight for the retirement home from here.” Eyes lifting from my assessment of the damage, finding myself caught once again, trapped in the weight of his eyes — lit up by the amusement of our blunder, yet somehow maintaining a captivating darkness that demanded undivided attention. Eyes like sinking ships on waters, so inviting, I almost jump in.  “Oh, you think? Well, do you think they’d take the spilled drink as a ticked box on the senile checklist?” A groan surfaced with that remark, his hand lifting to smack the heel to his forehead, possibly the most comical and charming thing I’ve ever been witness to.  “I really am sorry. I hope that isn’t an expensive shirt.” “Well, more expensive than the drink, and I’m far more upset about that.” Pausing in my own tracks, no cup in reach, yet I needed to drink this in.  “Let me buy you a new one.” His hands flew up in protest, swiftly dropping, surely in search of the wallet he seemed dead set on. It was just as much his fault as mine, and it was the man’s job to step up, wasn’t it? A mix of his eagerness, and my own inner musings brought up a roll of laughter, along with a forward facing palm that demanded an end to his panic.  “I don’t deal in patriarchy. I’m buying you a latte.” Just as easily as I’d waded into past memories and lost myself and time to them, I fell into the one that was in the making right before my eyes. If I’d wanted to know exactly how long we stood for, the concept of chairs lost to the unwillingness to halt conversation, I could have asked the staff that continued to bustle behind us. Though, part of the magic laid with the time forgotten, a precious thing I wasn’t willing to taint with something as unremarkable as numbers. There was nothing in this moment but us, swapped words, mingling laughs, and the wish that the world around us would never come crashing back into this place that was for us alone. We stood, we chatted, snickering exchanged over the ridiculousness of caffeine. You wanted it, until not having it put a blinding pain behind your eye and you hated the very fact that it existed, and then you needed it. Silent understanding shared and fingers twitching with a need to offer comfort as things turned from lighthearted, to anecdotes of our mothers and the wisdom we inherited from them, along with the accompanying scars. Our second attempt at drinks remained untouched, drifting away from warmth toward something iced — we didn’t seem to care for our second cups lost, not when something was being found. Wishes were all well and good, but they rarely had the chance to touch what we needed them to, and far too soon the world found its way back into our consciousness in the form of a gentle reminder of closing time fast approaching. I offered apologies for the lack of awareness, even though I leaned closer to wanting to scold the intrusion, but I tucked that away and made my way toward the door. As his steps fell in with my own, the reality of it all hit home, and the door that would separate us was something I couldn’t yet face. “I never even mentioned…”  Trailing off as I turned on my heels, making a beeline for the raised bar, and the pen that sat atop it. Signalling that I had no intention of being a stationary thief, before shuffling back to the man whose eyes I didn’t dare look to, not yet. Not before I’d dipped low enough to get a clear view of his still full cup, so that I could scrawl a string of digits across it. Then, and only then, did I allow for the wave that came crashing down on me when his eyes found mine again. “My name is Toby.” He flashed a smile that already had the power to overwhelm me, to the point where I knew it would never be enough, that I’d spend the rest of my days hoping for one more hit. It was written across his face, that ‘oh, yes, we have names, as well as life stories to tell’ look. “Vic. My name is Vic.”   We hovered in the doorway, societal norms dictating that there was nothing more to say, but the air that surrounded us screamed that we had everything in the world left to say. “Well. It was...really special meeting you, Toby. Maybe we can spill our drinks on each other again some time.” Everything in the world left to say, but that was enough for now, the promise of again. “Be warned, I’ll hold you to that.” The last laugh of the night, and we finally surrendered to the pathway that awaited us, that demanded we go our separate ways. With the hit of fresh air, I was brought back just enough to become aware of the way my head swam, the swell that pushed at my sternum, pressing forwards in hopes of following after its newfound home. I was already on the brink of something, something that I couldn’t quite name, and that alone led me to believe that it was possibly the edge of madness. Still, as close to falling as I felt, I couldn’t resist the urge that nagged at me, demanding that I check if my suspicions might be right. I slowed my steps, took in a lungful of the night’s air, and glanced back over my shoulder. And there they were, those depths that dared me to step in, glancing back at me like a mirror of my own actions. Lingering in that moment of mutual need, pulling out my most brilliant beam as a temporary farewell, before turning back to the journey ahead. I would pass multiple stops, serviced by a variety of buses that could carry me home much quicker than my own two feet, but they were no temptation tonight. Not when I had miles of road ahead, each step another moment that I could linger in, a chance to replay this night. Our words swirled, the way his smile dimpled his cheeks wouldn’t leave my mind any time soon, but there was one thing that hung higher than the rest. The moment of pause that had sat between us before we parted, so little space there, yet so much room for opportunity. Hundreds, thousands, millions of opportunities that could have filled those seconds, but one would do for now. A scenario where we had leaned into that feeling, into one another, and shared our first kiss. That was the image that would follow me all the way home, into the next day, and the days after that. It would follow me until it was pulled from the confines of my mind, and out into the real world.

[felixuh]

boy next door!daehwi

okay so this is gonna be my first bulletproof bulleted scenario/headcanon so wISH ME LUCK PLS

sO instead of those super duper cliche plots i’ll try to make this as cliche-ly realistic as possible haHA sike no i can’t do that

anyways

so you live in this nice suburban town where everything was nice and chill

not much happened out of the ordinary

not many people moved in and out of here

it was kinda close knit and relaxed

but then 

all of sudden

in the smack dab of one summer while ur still in middle school/junior high

your parents decided to interrupt your wonderful nap to tell you that a new family moved in next door

and in your half asleep daze 

you accidentally forgot that your parents invited them over for dinner

(when ur parents have more of a social life than u do e.e)

so you wake up like half an hour before dinner to your mom banging on your door and telling you to get ready

“waIT WHAT NO I’M NOT READY WHAT THE HECK MOM”

*cue frantic scrambling to look nice or else your mom would ground you for a week*

in the midst of wildly attempting to fix yourself up a doorbell rings

“y/N OPEN THE DOOR”

clumsy you decided to dash down the stairs and ended up skidding down the steps and ended up with bruises on your knees

(oUCH BE CAREFUL)

(btw you got them on ur knees bc you landed on your knees rlly hard on the last step)

but you pulled your outfit down to hide the scratches

and you rushed to the door and braced yourself for sOcIaL iNtErAcTiOn !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you open the door to a kid that looks around your age !?!??!

???

you open your mouth but nothing comes out

but the boy speaks first

“hi my name is lee daehwi!! you must be y/n! nice to meet you ^_______^”

you give him a small smile and he gives one of his bright smiles back and his eyes crinkle and you feel your chest tighten bc w h a t

you’re about to introduce yourself back but then his parents appear behind him

“oh hello! you must be y/n l/n, right? your parents talked about you and we’ve heard wonderful things. i see you’ve met our son, daehwi!”

you politely greet them back and let them in

anyways so you guys end up having dinner and slightly awkward/polite convos

and the adults like talk about life so you quietly slip away and daehwi follows you to the backyard where you have a set of swings

you guys quietly swing in awkwardness bc u dunno what to say 

(me in every social situation ever)

daehwi notices the scrapes on your leg and !!!! 

“oH- that must hurt!!”

you look at him wildly confused like 

what is he talking about

is this kid ok

but you see him kneeling down on one knee in front of you

and he has a molang bandaid in his hand

“...”

you haven’t spoken a word to him at all this entire time

and he looks up at you

you’re avoiding his eyes but you ask

“do you always carry around molang bandaids?”

he stares at you for a moment and you feel your face flush red and you’re about to get up and leave but

then he lets out a huge laugh and ruffles your head 

wow he must have long freaking arms if he can reach your head while kneeling

“ah you’re cute,,” “but be more careful !!”

did he just call me cute ????

he put the bandaid on your knee and you eventually warmed up 

you started talking to him about life and your fav cartoons

and before you know it your parents poked their heads outside 

“y/n! daehwi! it’s time to go in”

and that’s how you met daehwi

now you guys lived next to each other

so naturally that meant that you both went to the same school 

(this isn’t some private academy or gender specific school scenario haha)

at school 

as much as you wished to be with daehwi you sadly weren’t in the same class as him (y u gotta be so cruel)

bc of his gr8888 personality and cute looks he was really popular even in middle school

y’all didn’t talk much in school bc of separate classes and diff friend groups

but he would walk with you home

and you guys would talk about almost everything

you considered him your best friend which was amazing since you had only met him only awhile ago

on the weekends sometimes he’d climb over the fence with popsicles and you’d both chill on the swings and hang out

just the two of you

nobody knew you both were really close tho cuz they didn’t see you guys together in school

then high school came 

you eventually matured and grew a little taller (THANK GOD) (you also got even more gorgeous if that was possible)

but

oh boy

daehwi on the other hand

he got a complete glo up

he dyed his hair from black to a sandy blond which made him eyecandy for 90% of the student body

his chubby cheeks lost their fat and he became a lil toned from athletics and sports and dancing

everyone loved him

tbh you felt a little insecure bc wow he had changed so much and here you were 

(DON’T WORRY READER I LOVE YOU FOR WHO YOU ARE AND IK UR AMAZING SO DON’T FEEL INSECURE AT ALL <333)

you hadn’t seen daehwi in awhile since he was so busy with everything in and outside of school :(((

man this boi was doing everything and working his lil ambitious butt off

but

you did well with academics and had your own passions too

but seeing daehwi made you feel a lil incompetent so you subconsciously avoided him when he wasn’t busy to walk home

and at home

things were getting kinda rough with all the expectations put upon you by your family

and you had so many activities you were getting rlly rlly stressed out

and your friends tried to help but you were getting stuck in a hole you had dug

all you knew was to study, work, sleep, eat and repeat

you didn’t remember the last time you genuinely laughed or did anything for fun

it wasn’t a good situation at all :”c

daehwi worked rlly hard too

cuz he was going thru a similar struggle

but

you worked so much harder than he did

and it was noticeable

daehwi would always notice that the light in your window would always be on even after he went to bed

and you hadn’t been going outside to your swing lately

but he felt bad bc he hadn’t talked to you in awhile

until one day he got a text from your friend asking him to talk to you

???? 

alarms started to go off in his head bc

nOOoOoooO his y/n

during the weekend you were so tired you didn’t know what to do anymore

school was being a huge pain in the ass

you couldn’t even function

what was life anymore

and that’s when you heard a knock on your door

you groan and slightly bang your head on the table in frustration bc 

who?? what?? WHY NOW??

you trudge to the door looking like a hot mess (in reality you look as beautiful as ever c; )

you open the door

and there’s daehwi in sweatpants and a sweatshirt holding a molang plushie and some bags in his arms

“hey y/n” 

“d-daehwi???”

??????????????????????

“what r u doing here??? don’t u have dance practice now??”

he shakes his head no and lets himself in

you’re standing there shocked 

daehwi’s acting as if nothing was wrong and he’d been doing this for awhile now

so as he starts unloading things from the bags onto the kitchen counter

“i brought your fav drinks, spicy ramen, and some candy! you’ve been looking a little malnourished nowadays y/n-ie, make sure to take care of yours-”

he looks over

and

as much as you try to control yourself

you start sniffling bc w o w he did this for you?? and it meant a lot?? 

and he sees you covering your eyes a little and he knows that you don’t cry very much often (nOooOoooo don’t cry love)

and he walks over and ruffles your hair and gives you a big warm hug that you didn’t know you had been missing for awhile

and you just bury your face into his comfy sweater and drown in his love bc 

<3333

and he just draws circles into your back until you calm down

so you decide to relax and take a break

but

he notices while you help put the food away

you had cuts on your hands/arms??? 

you were always clumsy and would get random injuries from doing basic tasks and not even know

and he tsked

you looked over in confusion

and WAPOW

he magically holds out a molang bandaid

and he gently holds your finger as he puts the bandaids on the cuts

and chides you for being so careless

“y/n take care of yourself!!!”

you just laugh

bc daehwi hasn’t changed a bit on the inside

he was still the cute kid from middle school who carried molang bandaids around 24/7

(srsly tho)

and you guys decide to eat some snacks and watch cartoons together

just like back when y’all first met

AWW THE CUTE MEMORIES

and you’re dozing off a lil

and daehwi looks over and you’re leaning towards the side of the couch

but he gently tilts your head onto his shoulder

and he smiles lovingly at you bc

he finally got to see you again after awhile

and 

here you were

being so soft and lovely as always

and he presses a light kiss onto your head

u stirred a little bc you were having such a great dream

and you felt something on your head???

and you woke up all sleepy and cute

and you saw daehwi flushed bright red

bc SHOOT

UR AWAKE

NO

THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN

IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SMOL CUTE ROMANTIC MOMENT THAT ONLY DAEHWI KNEW ABOUT

and you’re trying to comprehend wtf just happened

“daehwi...”

“did u just kiss my head or did i imagine that”

nOW YOU GUYS HADN’T TALKED IN AWHILE

BUT YOU KNEW THE TELLTALES OF WHEN HE WAS LYING

HE LEARNED HOW TO COVER HIS TRACKS

but he couldn’t control the redness of the tips of his ears

and you saw his ears turn.. pink?

w h a t

you freeze for a moment

and process that

your best friend who was also ur neighbor had just kissed you on the head

(secretly screaming on the inside bc WE ALL KNEW THAT THIS WAS COMING)

you look up at him again and he’s fiddling with his hands in awkwardness bc wtf was he gonna do now

he got caught

and you just giggle slightly

bc aww look at the perfect daehwi being all flustered

you muster up some courage

bc

you knew

you liked him too

who wouldn’t?

and you pecked his cheek

and he looked up in surprise

huh???

“you... you like me back???”

“well if i didn’t i would’ve probably kicked you out by now you idiot”

his face turns from consternations to joy

and he smiles

like even the sun couldn’t stand a chance against this boy’s smile

and he just ruffles your hair

and you guys just cuddle on the couch

and soon fall asleep

and you knew that you had a lot to deal with now

and it would be hard

but at least you had your family and friends to help

and ofc

daehwi

your boy next door 

-

“u don’t live in a house anymore”

“what???”

“daehwi wtf r u talking about”

“i’ve saved you in my heart now”

“from now on you live in my heart and my heart only”

“oh my GOD”

“istfg I’M GONNA KILL PARK JIHOON”

a/n: hey everyone! i hope everyone’s been doing well lol sry for the lack of updates!! i’ve been in school and i haven’t had time to do much but thank you for reading this and i hope you enjoyed it! i’ll be writing for wanna one from now on too so look out for them scenarios <3333

[janeykath318]

The Princess Uhura Diaries

June 6 This girl is a college graduate!!! Woohoo! So happy to have my degree at last. Harvard is no joke, believe me. Even Grandmother almost smiled at me when I saw her after the ceremony. I may fall short in the social graces, but she can't doubt my brains! Celebrated with the girls, then said goodbye and Scotty the Royal Terrier and I are now on the plane back to Genovia. I'll miss my school sisters big time, but duty calls. I'm being groomed for queenhood someday and Grandmother wants me back there for more tutoring in the ways of being royal. Sigh. 

June 8th Landed back in Genovia yesterday and found a couple big surprises. Grandmother renovated and updated a new suite for me. It's mind-blowing luxurious. The walk in closet is to DIE for. That'll come in handy for my extensive shoe collection. The bathroom is larger than my whole bedroom at Mom's and the bed.....well, it's every princess's dream. But that wasn't the only thing that surprised me. When I went in to my giant closet, who should pop up but Gaila, my bestie from New York!! There was lots of squealing and catching up after that. She came all the way over here for my party, bless her heart. June 15th I survived the party, thanks to Gaila and the cute guy I almost ran over on the dance floor. Yum-yum. It started Off like any other royal bash, me coming forth in my fancy gown introduced to a crowd of nobles and diplomats and forced to dance with a motley assortment of stuffed shirts. Ugh. The Pimply French kid was the worst. Then there was the awkward Swedish prince who stepped on my toes three times. I was so relieved to get away from him, I ran smack dab into some poor guy just standing there minding his own business, stepping on his foot even. He kind of doubled over for a second and I apologized as profusely as I could, dying with embarrassment at my perpetual clumsiness. Then he looked up at me and I met the most stunning pair of blue eyes I'd ever seen. He was kind of surprised himself I think, before he recovered and I made a joke about insurance information to which he smoothly replied in kind. It was almost flirting, but I was so relieved to finally meet a decent guy, I agreed to a dance almost before he'd finished asking. June 16th So much for a decent guy. Turns out he's gunning for my crown!! Today Gran had an uncomfortable meeting with parliament and they brought up the old law that requires a female to be married in order to inherit the crown!! I thought they'd done away with anachronistic, sexist rules like that. Evidently not. So, I've got to get myself a man before my next birthday or this James Tiberius Kirk brat gets a chance to lay claim to the throne. I don't know how, but his Uncle, the Viscount Mabry, said he should get the throne because he's more familiar with the Genovian society. Then, he brought him over to live here for the summer! When I saw who it was, well, I was steamed and disappointed. Let's just say, this time, when I stepped on his foot, it wasn't an accident. Gran said afterward, "As a Queen, I cannot condone it, but as a Grandma, I say RIGHT ON!!" I love that woman. June 22 Ever since HE moved in, I feel on edge everyday, like they're looking for reasons I shouldn't be allowed to rule. The Viscount is always sneering and sniffing at me and James is trying to pretend like he's not a lying scumbag. If it weren't for Gaila's refreshing presence, I'd have ripped out my hair by now, or thrown myself in the duck pond. First there was the embarrassing episode with the runaway chicken. I admit, it was stupid of me to open the clucking basket, but James looked way too tickled by my mortification. Then there was the inspection of the guard and I had to ride sidesaddle past the whole company without looking like I was in mortal fear of falling to a terrible demise. Of course, the supposedly calm horse spooked at something and knocked me on my rear anyway. Needless to say, my humiliation was complete, AGAIN. I saw Joe looking very grim and somewhat menacing at the Viscount, but I have no idea why. James had the goodness to keep his mouth shut for once. June 27 Gram is dead set on finding me a husband now. She loathes the Viscount and his schemes to get his nephew the throne. So she and Joe started vetting possible candidates and last night Gaila and looked through the options. It felt creepy. Who wants to pick their husband like he's a dinner option on a menu? But Parliament would have to abolish the longheld law with a two-thirds vote, and The Prime Minister says there isn't enough opposition  to get the required votes. I can tell that bothers him, but his hands are tied. So, we scrolled through various young lords and princes until we came to a nice looking Vulcan by the name of Spock. He's tall, dark, and very handsome, with cute pointy ears and looks very calm and logical like most of his species. I gave him the thumbs up and Gram declared she would invite him to visit Genovia immediately. I'm not promising to marry the guy, but I need something to keep me from thinking about those blue eyes!!! (Darn them) James still keeps trying to convince me our lie dance wasn't a lie and he really did enjoy it!! July 1st. Today was the Founder's Day Parade. As the princess and heir to the throne, I am obligated to sit on a float and wave at the crowds beside Grandmother. It's totally not my thing, but necessary for public relations. So up I got, pleased that James had to experience the same discomfort with his pompous windbag uncle. Despite my dislike of him, I have to admit he was pretty smooth at the mingling with the masses part and not nearly as uncomfortable as I'd hoped. I forgot about that when I passed the girls from the orphanage and saw the wistful expression in those eyes. Impulsively, I got down from the float and invited the girls to walk with me at the front. After all, in my view, every girl deserves to feel like a princess even if they never see a tiara. It ended up being the best part of the day and Gram didn't even really scold me. Even James told me sincerely it was a sweet thing to do. July 8th Spock arrived and we met in person for the first time. Let's just say he's even more handsome in real life and has those dark brown eyes that aren't hiding any nefarious designs! (Unlike some) We get along well, if it was a little awkward at first. Vulcans are very literal and logical and don't always get the jokes, so I try not to get too punny around him. Turns out he's WAY into science and stuff, founded a special scientific institute in his country even. July 12th. Been on several outings with Spock. He's quite a conversationalist once you get him talking. We took some long walks around the coast, played badminton, and several chess games, at which he royally kicked my butt. Of course, the whole thing is being blown up by the media and turned into a soap opera, which is really annoying.  The Viscount though, is really grumpy about it, much to my satisfaction, and James gives me odd looks sometimes, which I find highly unsettling for no reason at all! July 25th The Garden Party started out well, and ended in me doing something monumentally STUPID!! How could I let it happen? HOW?? I hate his guts so much right now!! James arrived at the party looking all smug and dapper as usual, with a knockout blonde on his arm, whom he introduced as Carol. She seemed like a nice girl, but it looked more like Jim was just trying to get me jealous, which is totally ridiculous because I don't even like him!!! Anyway, somehow, Spock and Carol got talking on some deeply technical scientific stuff and James and I were left alone. He started making suggestions that I'm only using Spock to keep my throne and of course I told him off for that, the hypocrite. "I loathe you!!" I yelled finally, getting right up in his smarmy handsome face. "I loathe YOU!!" He yelled back, staring at me intently. Next thing I knew, he'd yanked my face to his and was kissing me!! I should have slapped him for that, but instead I kissed right back. I can't believe that happened. Only you, diary, will ever know that James T. Kirk is really good at kissing, much as I hate to admit it. Then we started arguing again, and somehow ended up in the fountain. I embarrassed Grandmother again. Thankfully, Spock didn't see that indiscretion, being deep in discussion. Aug. 17th Well, James has been a lot less obnoxious lately, seeing how serious Spock and I are getting. In fact, he's been downright nice, even giving me archery tips as I practiced for the test I'll undergo the night before the coronation, which involves shooting an arrow through a ring, an Old Genovian tradition, I hear. I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach when he laid his hand over mine while correcting my stance, but wow, he seems to have really gotten under my skin. Ugh. Spock has been so sweet about this whole thing and probably being married to him won't be such a bad thing, but I just can't seem to be quite as happy as I thought I would with such a perfect man.... Sept. 3rd Spock proposed. I said Yes. The kingdom is going nuts at the prospect of a wedding.   It's kind of nice, actually, being engaged to him, but I never thought I'd feel so calm about impending marriage. Gram smiles approvingly a lot, Gaila still looks at me questioningly and Jim seems down in the dumps. He mostly keeps to himself now, seems to always have a book in his hand. He and Carol have double dated with us a couple times and she's great company, but it always ends up with her and Spock doing most of the talking and Jim and I avoiding each other's eyes. I think he's changed his mind on me being a fit ruler finally. I wonder if he'll have the guts to stand up against the Viscount uncle, who's more bombastic than ever. March 5. I haven't written in forever, but wedding planning has taken over my life right now. The dress, the flowers, the table settings, the cake, pleasing the families and all that jazz is pretty exhausting. Spock's been really kind and helpful in his own way. He's great at subtly telling people when enough is enough. It's very comforting and I ought to be head over heels by now, but I'm not and that saddens me. Should I really go through with this? Is it worth losing the kingdom and hurting Gran? Should I really cave to this sexist law? Gaila told me she'll support me no matter what I decide, and it's comforting to know that. For now, everything is going ahead for an April 3rd Wedding. March 30th Had a delightfully unconventional "shower" last night. We invited princesses of all ages to the palace for a giant slumber party, including mattress surfing down the main staircase. It was a riot! Even Grandmother joined in, looking dignified while doing it. It was nice to let myself go and just be a regular girl again. Pretty soon I'll be in charge of a country and fun time? Well, Buh-bye. April 2nd I caved to temptation last night and snuck  out with Jim to the lake for a moonlight walk. I should be strong enough to resist him, but those eyes just DO things to me and he seems to be much more than an insufferable, cocky rich guy. We really talked this time and I learned about his life and growing up with no parents and I told him about New York and Gaila and my Mom and how awkward it was learning to be a princess. "You're doing a pretty fantastic job, in my opinion," he told me. "You really do care about the people and the country. My uncle is so wrong." "You really think so?" I asked (He was holding my hand at this point). "Sure do." He smiled at me and my heart did a flip again. Shoving the guilt aside, I stayed with him. We danced in the moonlight and curled up under a tree and dozed off. Bad idea. Next thing I know, there come the paparazzi and I'm running away in rage and panic, wondering if it was all a set up by Jim to create a scandal and wreck the wedding. I really need to make better choices. April 3rd Well, there was a wedding today, but not mine. I couldn't go through with it, not after searching my own heart and realizing I'm in love with someone else. It's not fair to Spock, logical as he's been about the whole thing. When Joe told me that James had NOT planted those paps to ruin me and he believed the young man was besotted with me, well, the was the finishing touch. I went out there and told Spock I couldn't go through with it. He was very gracious as usual and I think I detected a faint trace of relief on his part. Then the good ole Viscount got up and started haranguing me again and how he wouldn't stand for this. After he stormed out in a huff, the Prime Minister came up and told me now was a good time to convince Parliament to change the rules. "They're waiting to be convinced. Go after them and tell them what's what. Don't back down." I always liked the Prime Minister. Lord Pike is a good man. Up I got and explained why women are perfectly capable of ruling a country without a husband. Most of them seemed to be receptive, but one old fellow had to ask "What does the other heir think?" There was a silence, and James stood up, much to my surprise. I certainly didn't expect him to be there after everything that happened to be there. He looked like he'd had a bad night, but what he said warmed me through. He backed me up completely!! Even said he utterly refused to be king because he felt the crown was mine and I would be a great queen. "Plus, she'll look lovely on all our postage stamps," he added saucily, with a smile at me. Once he'd finished, he turned and left without further ado, leaving me both grateful and puzzled. The Prime Minister called for a vote right then and there and the law was overturned. That wasn't the end of the surprises, though. Grandmother stood up and declared it would be a shame to waste all the bridal plans, so she and Joe would be filling in as the happy couple. It's very unlike her to be so impulsive, but the two of them together has been a long time coming and I gladly played bridesmaid as they were united in marriage. What a day!!! April 16th I passed the archery test with flying colors and the coronation will proceed tomorrow as planned. I'm really nervous about it, but this evening something wonderful happened. I was lounging in my drawing room, Scotty beside me on his little doggy throne, when Jim appeared and knelt before me. "What is your dilemma, young man?" I asked him playfully. Those big blue eyes were looking at me so intensely, I thought I would drown in them. "I am in love with the queen to be and am inquiring as to whether she loves me too." I admit, I launched myself at him in a very unqueenly manner and we held each other tightly, finally giving in to the electricity between us. Then he whispered "Nyota!" In my ear in a longing, loving tone and I kissed the daylights out of him. How I love that man. Scotty was annoyed at losing my undivided attention and stalked off in high dudgeon, yipping, but we were too busy to care. I'll make it up to him. April 18th The coronation went off with much pomp and circumstance. I now understand what they mean when they say "heavy is the head that wears the crown". Not only is it a huge responsibility to be ruler of a country, but the crown is literally HEAVY. My head was sweating the whole day. Between Grandmother, Joe, Gaila, and Jim, I was subtly encouraged by my loved ones and made it through the long ceremonies fairly well. Grandmother bustles around looking proud, Joe kept the throng from getting too big, Gaila smiled, and Jim looked dazzled and proud and utterly gorgeous. Even Spock attended with Carol sticking to his side. I think those two might have a thing going...... (Skips over a year of entries until the next June) June 6th I married Jim yesterday. It truly was the best day of my life and Mom got to be there, which was wonderful. I'd felt weird wearing the same dress that I'd originally picked out to marry someone else, so the original was auctioned for charity to support the orphanage. My new gown was a simple long white satin with elegant sheer sleeves and delicate crystals scattered over it. It moved beautifully as well, and Jim seemed to like it judging by the countless times he's told me how gorgeous I am. He's no slouch either, rocking that royal uniform with confidence and style. Joe walked me down the aisle, which made Grandmother very happy. (Was that a tear I saw in her eye?) Jim's eyes were just glowing as we exchanged vows and I hope I was able to convey my own love and joy so perfectly. "How does it feel to be a prince?" I asked him when it was over. "Not as good as being your husband," he answered softly, kissing my hand regally. I swooned inwardly. Who could help it? Just as we started our first dance, he looked down at his feet with feigned anxiety. "Are my toes safe today?" He asked, the rascal, bringing up our awkward first two meetings. I laughed. "You bet, baby." Well, Jim is starting to stir beside me and I think I saw one blue eye open a bit, so I'd better stop for now. I will say, he has totally cute bedhead! I think I'm going to ruffle it up some more.