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freddie-weaselbee · 3 years

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Close Quarters//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, sexual references, partial nudity, like one paragraph of brief smut but no details, mentions of food, accidentally getting lit on fire (oopsie spoiler), angst, rude Fred

Summary: What happens when George moves out, leaving Fred to live with the one person he despises the most? Chaos, that’s what happens.

Prompts: Roommates and Enemies to Lovers with the prompts “I can’t believe you talked me into this.” “This is the opposite of what I told you to do.” and “You can’t banish me! This is my apartment too!”

Word Count: 9k

A/N: This is for @theweasleyslut’s birthday celebration writing challenge, happy birthday love !! And also the first fic in Abby’s Week of Weasley, enjoy!

~Abby’s Week of Weasley Masterlist~ ~Masterlist~

As Fred Weasley sealed up the last box with an excess amount of tape, he took a second to step back and take in his surroundings. It was the same old loft he had lived in for the past 4 years. There was the couch and armchairs positioned around a coffee table, the Muggle guitar propped up on its stand in the corner, the many pictures of his family scattered around the open space. It was controlled chaos, and to him it was beautiful. But it was all changing, and much too soon for his liking.

“Thanks for the help Freddie,” called his twin George from the other room. The tall ginger haired boy who had just spoken joined his slightly older brother in the main part of the loft, carrying a box filled with books he had collected over the years. “It really means a lot, Angie got pulled away for work so I know she’d appreciate it.”

Fred nodded and gave his brother a small smile. “Of course Georgie, anything else I can do?”

George took a look around the room. By the door were piles of dozens of boxes, all filled to the brim with George’s clothes and knick knacks. He sighed and scratched the back of his head, a deep sadness overtaking his features.

“No, I think we’re alright,” he said. “Just need to get these to my new place and we should be all set.”

Fred let out a deep sigh and looked at his brother. They stared at each other for a few short seconds before dropping everything in their hands and wrapping their arms around each other.

“Do you really have to go?” Fred whispered softly. It was so unlike him to be quiet, and even more unlike him to be nervous and shy. But watching his brother, who he had lived with for 22 years, finally leave and get his own place broke him. “It’s always been us, George, you and me, the Weasley twins. I can’t imagine living without you.”

George squeezed his twin even tighter, a loose tear falling from eye. “It’s not like I’m leaving you, me and Angelina will be just a Floo Network trip away. And you can’t expect her to stay here forever and be forced to live with you as well.”

Fred scoffed and let out a breathy chuckle. “What do you mean, she’s loved staying with us! The second she moved in with you she told me that she couldn’t imagine anything better than living with her lover and his twin brother who’s always around.”

“She was being sarcastic mate, she can only handle one twin at a time and unfortunately for you that twin is me.” George released his brother and quickly wiped his eyes, noticing Fred doing the same thing.

“Whatever,” Fred replied, “it was getting annoying not being able to walk around freely in my own place without having to see you two shagging on every piece of furniture.”

“Not my fault she can’t resist my charms,” he said, giving his infamous Weasley smirk. “Maybe with us gone you’ll be able to finally find a girl.”

“I think I should focus on getting a roommate first,” he said, plopping down on the couch. “You know I can’t live alone. Remember before Angelina moved in and you stayed at her place for the night--”

“And you showed up at Ginny and Harry’s and crawled into bed with them because you were scared? Yeah, no one in the family’s gonna let you forget that anytime soon.” Fred shoved his brother and crossed his arms, sinking deeper into the cushions.

“Sod off, you never know what could be lurking in the dark.”

George laughed and joined his brother, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. “You know,” he began, mischief gleaming in his eyes, “I do think I have an answer to your roommate problem.”

“Really?” Fred asked, shooting up. The less time he had to spend alone at night, and alone in general, the better.

“Yeah,” said George, “I ran into one of my old friends from school and turns out they’re looking for a place to stay and maybe earn some extra money. I was thinking that maybe, since you’ve got the space and we need some help in the shop anyway, they could take the other room and work downstairs on the weekends.”

Fred looked quizzically at his double, trying to read his intentions. “And who, pray tell, might this friend be?”

George just smirked and went to collect the rest of the boxes. “That, dear brother, is a surprise.”

------------------------------

You made your way down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, a place you had more recently been finding yourself. Work at the Ministry had been tiring, especially your first few years. But ever since the war ended and everything began to quiet down, you’d had some more free time to finally take in the world around you.

It stood out like a sore thumb. The bright and gleaming storefront with an animatronic face looking down at you. You had never visited Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes before, always nervous about running into a certain redhead and falling back into the same argumentative habits you’d had at Hogwarts. Fred had always made it his goal to make your life a living hell, and you couldn’t lie, you did the same to him. But after having lunch with George a few days ago and suddenly receiving a letter to come and visit him at his shop, you decided that it was finally time to see the inside of Diagon Alley’s most booming business.

The doorbell jingled as you walked in, catching the attention of your friend behind the counter.

“Y/N!” George cried. He hopped over the register, knocking a few things down from shelves, before pulling you into a hug.

“Hey George! So, this is the place, huh?” The inside was even more spectacular than the outside. The walls were lined with products from end to end, some of them you recognized from the twins’ testing at Hogwarts and others were completely new. An animatronic doll of Umbridge was riding across a rope close to the ceiling, making you laugh and remembering the horrors of your 7th year when the pink nightmare was in charge.

“This is it!” George had his arm around your shoulder as he showed you around, pointing out different products and trying desperately to sell you one of their love potions, knowing exactly how single you were.

“This is incredible, George, I can’t believe you guys actually did it.”

“You doubted us? And I thought we were friends!” He clutched his heart and doubled over, accidentally stumbling into a display and making all of the products crashing down.

“Oi, George what are you doing down there?” You froze at the voice, one you hadn’t heard in years and one that you weren’t too keen on hearing any time soon. Fred appeared on the steps, wearing a dapper purple and orange suit, his hair slightly ruffled. The grin on his face disappeared when he made eye contact with you, being replaced with a scowl. “What’s she doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Weasley.” You smiled at him, a fake mocking smile that made his blood boil, and how you loved getting under his skin.

“George,” he said, acting as though you weren’t even in the room.

The man in question shifted from foot to foot, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket. “Well, uh, you see…”

“George sent me a letter the other day,” you interrupted. “Said that he had a proposition that he wanted to talk about and asked if I could come in today.”

Realization dawned on Fred and his eyes grew wide. “Oh no, George are you serious? She was the one you were talking about?”

You furrowed your brow in both confusion at the situation and anger at Fred, who had made you upset in record time today. “Talking about what? All I know is that he wanted to ask me something and I agreed to meet with him.” You turned to face the other twin. “What’s going on?”

“Ok, both of you calm down,” he said, hands up in defense. “Let me explain. Y/N, you know how you said you really needed a place to stay, as well as somewhere to work part time?”

It took you a couple of seconds, but you then understood what he was insinuating. “No. There’s no way, how am I supposed to live with you two when he’s going to be an annoying prat every second?”

“You’re not the most lovable person yourself, darling,” Fred sneered. “And besides, you wouldn’t be living with us. George moved out to get an apartment with Angelina. You’d be living with only me.”

Without a second thought you turned around and started toward the exit. “Well, I appreciate the offer George and it was great to catch up, hopefully next time I see you I won’t be bothered by your other half.”

“Y/N wait!” George cried, catching up to you and grabbing your wrist. “Listen, I know these aren’t the most...ideal conditions for you--”

“Same goes for me!” Fred called from the stairs.

George sighed heavily, rubbing his temple in frustration. “Y/N, I’ve missed you over the past few years. I know that you and Fred don’t exactly get along.”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” you said through gritted teeth. “He’s annoying, cocky, inconsiderate, and--”

“And he’s my brother,” said George. “He’s a good person, and for whatever reason you two decided to hate each other, I can promise that the Fred you think you know is nothing like the real one.”

You paused your struggle against his arm and decided to let him continue on.

“Let’s be real here. You need a place to stay and rent for most places in Diagon Alley is insane. If you stay here you get a nice bedroom, a cozy living room, a great view of London from the roof, and a low rate for rent. You can even work down here on the weekends to get the extra money you need. The only thing you need to do is be civil with Fred, that’s all.”

“That’s a lot more difficult than it sounds when someone’s as much of an arse as he is.”

Fred rolled his eyes and came over to join the conversation. “What would I get out of this arrangement George? I don’t know if you were unaware, but I don’t exactly need money at the moment, we’re doing just fine as it is.”

Great, you thought, he’s a pompous rich kid too. Gets a little money and it goes all to his head.

“Fred, what were we talking about the other night?” George prodded. “You hate being alone, especially at night. If Y/N’s here, then you’ll have someone to keep you company, someone who’s always in the loft with you.”

“Aww, is little Freddie afraid of the dark?” you mocked, sticking out your bottom lip and jesting in a baby voice.

He practically growled back. “Shut the fuck up, you--”

George put his hands out, one on your shoulder and one on Fred’s chest to separate the two of you. “It’s a mutually beneficial deal. You both know that you don’t have any other options, and maybe if you two dimwits spend some time together you won’t be at each other’s throat all the time! Now, what do you say? Just try it out.”

You looked Fred up and down dramatically, letting him know how much distaste for him you had. He did the same back to you but paused for a brief moment at your boobs, causing you to blush and look away.

Fred was the first to give in. “Fine. I’m willing to try it if she will. As long as we establish some ground rules, starting with you can never come into my room, got it?”

It took everything you had not to slap the shit out of the man standing in front of you, but George was right. You didn’t have any other options.

“I’ll at least have my own bathroom, right?” you asked George.

He laughed guiltily and mentally prepared himself for another barrage of yells. “You see, about that…”

------------------------------

“Your room’s at the end of the hall, bathroom’s to the right, my room’s to the left, have at it.”

You dropped the heavy boxes you had been carrying onto the floor and leaned over to catch your breath. Fred was standing nonchalantly in the kitchen, pulling out the bread and jam to make a sandwich.

“Excuse me?” you asked indignantly.

“You’re excused,” he replied, not even looking up.

You stomped over to the small kitchenette and slammed the refrigerator door shut, which Fred just opened again seconds later. You tried again, but he merely sighed and reached for the handle. Finally after not being able to take any more you shoved his hand aside and stood in front of the door, leaning all of your weight onto it.

“Something I can help you with, doll?”

The anger coursing through your boy only intensified, nails leaving marks on the insides of your clenched hands. “First of all, don’t call me doll, understand?”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed you by the waist, lifting you to the side so he could once again get to his food. “I’ll call you what I want, darling.”

By this point you had completely given into your anger. Pulling your wand from your back pocket you shoved it under his chin, forcing him against a nearby wall and making him finally pay attention to you. “You listen here, Freddie,” you snarled. “Neither of us want this to happen, that’s a fact. But if you get to have ground rules then so do I, and I will not sit here and be quite literally tossed around like some quaffle! Have I made myself clear?”

It was subtle, but Fred gulped. You had always scared him at Hogwarts, which is one of the reasons he picked on you so much. He’d rather be on the offensive than always backed into a corner playing defense.

“Ok doll--sorry, I mean Y/N. Let’s sit down and go over any rules, ok? As much as I enjoy being pinned to the wall by you, I think we need to defuse the tension, yeah?”

Even when he was trying to make peace he was infuriating. But you relented and slowly let the wand down, pulling out a chair at the countertop with Fred joining right next to you.

Fred summoned a piece of parchment and a pen (which was always much easier to use than quills) and messily scrawled ‘Loft Rules’ on the top.

“Alright, you can go first,” he offered.

You thought for a moment before delivering your demands. “Number one, no nicknames. I go by Y/N, and I refuse to answer to anything else.” He nodded and wrote it down.

“Number two. You can’t ignore me. I know you think you’re better than me and that I’m not worth your time, but if I’m going to be your roommate then you have to treat me as an equal, and I’ll do the same to you.”

“Yeah,” Fred scoffed, “just like you did back in Hogwarts.”

“Can we please not focus on the past?” you asked. “I know we were both horrible arses to each other, but we’re not kids anymore. I’ll respect you if you respect me. It’s not that difficult.”

Fred grumbled in agreement and wrote down the second rule. “Anything else?”

“Don’t go through my room or my stuff. I have some very personal items and I would appreciate you keeping your nose out of them.”

Fred put the pen to his chin in concentration, ideas forming in his head.

“Fred,” you scolded. “No touching my things. That’s final.”

“Fine, but the same goes for me,” he said. “That’s my rule number one, stay out of my room and don’t touch any of my personal items. Furniture and that kind of thing don’t count.”

You nodded. “That’s only fair. Rule number two?”

“George and I are always working on new products, and usually testing them out on people. We’ll pay you to test them if you want, but if not you need to stay out of our way and mind your own business.”

“I’ll test anything you guys have, I did it back at school and I’m sure you’re much more professional now.”

“What?” Fred asked, completely confused. “When did you test our products?”

“Who do you think was the one who tried, and eventually perfected, the skiving snackboxes? George asked me to help him with them so I skipped prefect duties for a few nights and we figured it all out.”

“There’s no way you were the one who fixed them! I’ve been giving George the credit this whole time, how in the world did you do that?”

You shrugged. “I wasn’t top of our class for nothing, Freddie.”

“Oh I know, you never let me hear the end of it.”

Before you could say something in response Fred rushed on to his last request.

“Number three,” he said, smirking widely. “You can’t complain about any of the girls I bring home, and you can’t get in their way or say bad things about me. Believe it or not, I can be quite charming and I give everyone a good time, so no complaints of noise either. And we don’t use silencing spells, so get ready for that.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Thank you. Now, I’m going downstairs to help George with a new shipment that just came in. Have fun unpacking your things!” He didn’t even give you a chance to say anything before aparating downstairs, leaving you alone in the large loft. You sighed and went to grab the boxes, dragging everything to the room you would be stuck in for who knows how long.

------------------------------

“This is the ugliest uniform I’ve ever seen!”

“Then it’ll match the rest of your personality! Put it on.”

You scoffed at Fred’s remark but decided not to argue. No matter how much you despised the boy you figured it probably wasn’t the best idea to start off by insulting your boss. Fred Weasley was your boss. You never thought you would reach this low of a point in your life.

The outfit you had to wear was exactly what Fred and George wore, which was fine for them, two 6’ 3” men. But the oversized male suit that you had to roll up countless times really didn’t suit your figure, and Fred knew that all too well.

Scrunching up the pant legs and fastening the tie, you made your way out of the loft to join the twins down in their office, running into George on the way down.

“Hey Y/N, sleep well?” George asked, handing you a latte he had bought from the coffee shop down the street.

You gave him a grateful nod and took a sip. “Hardly. I didn’t get moved in until about 2 in the morning and I always have trouble falling asleep in a new place, so let’s just say last night was a pretty rough start.”

“Fred didn’t help you unpack your things?” George questioned, looking a little surprised. “That must’ve taken you ages to get everything set up.”

“You’re telling me. But no, he just holed himself up in his room, ordered takeout around 9, then went back to his room and that’s all I saw of him. But I mean that’s pretty in character, yeah? Never really liked me much.”

It took George a few seconds to take in everything you were telling him. Fred was never one to ignore someone, especially someone he was living with. “Yeah,” he said, “but even so he was never actually rude to you at school right? I always thought it was some teenage rivalry fueled by hormones of something like that.”

“I wish it was that simple,” you sighed. “But I always appreciate when he’s leaving me alone. It’s a lot better than some of the asshole things he would say and do when we were kids. Trust me, the less we interact, the better.”

George was speechless with shock, but you didn’t notice. You made your way to some shelves to tidy up before the shop opened, leaving George standing open mouthed.

He watched as Fred finally exited the office with a stack of papers piled higher than his head. He dropped them next to you, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. “Fill these out for me will ya? Order forms, due back to me by noon. Shouldn’t be too complicated for you to understand, but let me know if you need me to explain what any of the big words mean.”

“Of course, sir.” you said, picking up the stack and taking it to the back. Fred came over to join his brother, who looked appalled at Fred’s actions.

“What?” he asked.

“I love you, but you’re a fucking moron.” George followed you into the back while Fred stared at him, confused on why his brother had for once in his life not been on his side.

George spent the rest of the morning showing you the ropes until you felt you were comfortable enough with the setup to be able to help them stock products and show people around. It was a nice change from your Ministry job, which was predictable and could be quite boring. This job had you always on your toes, talking with kids and demonstrating some of your favorite products.

The twins came back from their lunch break around one and were met with a large crowd of kids following you around like lost puppies. They were all grinning widely and laughing at every demonstration you provided, making you mirror their actions with glee.

You tried to show the kids how to use one of the newer products, but it ended up exploding in your face, making everyone howl with laughter, including yourself.

Fred watched you interact with the kids, enraptured by how easily you seemed to get along with them. When he knew you at Hogwarts he always thought you were a cocky and arrogant student who would’ve hated the idea of his pranks and jokes. The person he was watching now was nothing like the one he remembered.

“She’s a natural, huh?” whispered George, snapping Fred out of his stupor. “She’s always been good with kids, they seem to love her.”

“Y/N?” Fred asked. “She was so cold back in Hogwarts, I never saw her smile once!”

“Really?” George asked bewildered. “She’s always been a blast! Lee and her were friends and I can’t help but think he might’ve sparked the wild side in her, but I’ve never seen her be cold to anyone. Well, anyone except you.”

Before Fred could see anything you noticed the twins’ arrival. Smiling, you gestured to them and announced their presence in a regal voice. “And there they are, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!”

The kids cheered and ran over to greet Fred and George, bouncing with excitement and berating them with questions about their products. George gave you a teasing glare as he was dragged across the floor while you sat on the counter, laughing at the scene you caused. But when you went to look at Fred, who you expected to be ignoring you, he was doing the complete opposite.

He was staring at you unashamedly, his eyes burning into yours. You awkwardly looked away, but when you glanced back a few seconds later he was still analyzing you, as if he was trying to figure out everything about you. You cleared your throat and moved to the back office, hoping you could get a start on that paperwork and maybe shake the weird feeling you got when Fred looked at you like that.

------------------------------

“All closed up for the night?”

You jumped at Fred’s voice, which had distracted you from casting the last of the protective charms needed to keep the shop locked up. With an entire alley filled with wizards who learned Alohomora in their first year at Hogwarts, it was safe to say they needed their fair share of charms to keep the store from being robbed.

“I was almost there, before you interrupted,” you said, turning back to the final spells you needed to cast. It had been a few weeks since you moved in with Fred and it had honestly been a lot better than you had expected. Of course, you two were still constantly at each other’s throats and the neighbors had complained about shouting matches more than once, but neither of you had killed the other yet and you considered that a victory.

As you finished up the last of your closing duties you saw George grabbing his things and heading to the Floo network upstairs, trying to rush past and avoid you and Fred.

“Hey!” you yelled after him. He stopped dead in his tracks and tried to shrink down as if to hide from you. But, being over 6 feet tall, it was rather difficult for him to disappear. “Where do you think you’re going? Stop trying to sneak off on us!”

“Yeah,” said Fred. “We’ve had takeout the last three nights in a row, we need you to stay and cook us a decent meal so I don’t have to smell Y/N’s fast food breath anymore.”

You elbowed him but nodded in agreement, you were getting absolutely sick of not having a home cooked meal.

“Guys,” George groaned, “I need to get home to see Angie! I’ve been working late for the past week and it’s been a while since we’ve had some...alone time.”

You and Fred both covered your ears and gagged, pretending to pop a puking pastille and subsequently throw up.

“You’re both so immature, and that’s coming from me,” he said smiling. “Besides, isn’t it high time you two learned to cook for yourselves? What were you gonna do, just have me cook for you the rest of your lives?”

“Yes,” you and Fred replied in unison, shooting each other dirty looks before turning back to your friend. Fred, with his unhealthy obsession with pyrotechnics, and you, with your lack of basic common sense, were never allowed in the kitchen before, and so neither of you had any idea how to cook even the most simple of meals.

George rolled his eyes and continued up the stairs to the loft, you and Fred following shortly behind him.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, just follow the recipe I laid out for you. It’s spaghetti, I’m sure even you two couldn’t mess that up.” And with that, George had whooshed through the fireplace, leaving only you and Fred in the kitchen.

You stared at each other for a second, before you came to a decision. “I’ll order the takeout, you want Chinese tonight?”

You picked up one of the many takeout menus you had lying around and began to skim through it when Fred spoke up. “No, George is right. We might as well try to learn, and with two of us we should be able to figure it out.”

You looked at him as if he had grown a second head. “That is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, and you’ve had some really dumb ideas.”

“C’mon,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “We’re both smart, some of us more so than others. How bad can it possibly be?”

Answer: very bad.

Fred was running around the kitchen screaming at the top of his lungs while the fire alarm blared all throughout the loft. “Y/N, help! It won’t stop screaming at me!”

“I don’t know what to do!” you yelled, throwing the burning cookbook into the sink. There was still smoke rising from it, which made the alarm continue to beep at full volume. You grabbed the pot of boiling water and poured it down the drain, hoping that it would put out any of the pages that were still flaming. But the water only splashed up at you, making you yelp and fall backwards in order to avoid being burned by the liquid.

Fred was still scrambling through the rooms and he didn’t notice your body laying on the floor, causing him to trip over you and faceplant into the spilled marinara sauce.

The two of you tried to get up but your limbs became tangled in each other’s and you ended up on the ground again. After a few struggles you were finally back on your feet, but you were once again off of them as Fred hoisted you into the table.

“Get on my shoulders,” he said over the sound of the alarm. You climbed on and reached up to fumble around with all of the buttons on the device. “Hurry up, Y/N, I can’t support you for much longer!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” After what felt like ages you had finally pushed the right sequence and the loft was drowned in a sudden silence. Both you and Fred let out sighs of relief as he lowered you back onto the table. You hopped off and took a few steps back, finally taking in the disastrous scene around you.

“Well,” you said relieved, “at least that’s over.”

You turned to smile at Fred but we’re only met with a wide eyed look of pure horror.

“Fred? What is it?”

It was then that you smelled it. The familiar burning that had just been flooding your nostrils moments before was suddenly back and stronger than ever.

Slowly, you turned your head to look behind you, and your eyes widened even larger than Fred’s had. “I’m on fire!”

Sure enough, your oversized sweater had been dangling in the flame of the kitchen stove, which neither of you had remembered to turn off. The bottom of your outfit was slowly burning, bright orange and red flames climbing up your torso.

“Fuck! Fred, do something!” you wailed. You began running around the kitchen and spinning around faster and faster to try to put out the fire.

“I’m trying!” Fred grabbed a blanket from the living room and draped it over you, hoping to cut off the oxygen flow. But the fire only spread to the blanket, making your situation ten times worse.

“What the fuck Fred?! Do something useful!”

Fred dove under the table, reaching for his wand. He shimmied under a little more, but his right pant leg got caught in the burning blanket, meaning that both of you were now being engulfed by the flames.

“Holy shit!” He patted the small flames on his pants away, but you were frantically trying to shove yourself into the sink under the running water.

Grabbing his wand, Fred tried to get up, banging his head on the table in the process, and aimed it at you. “We never should’ve tried cooking! I can’t believe you talked me into this!”

“This is the opposite of what I told you to do!” you shrieked. “Now put the fire out you moron!”

Fred quickly cast Aguamenti, sending gallons upon gallons of water out of his wand and straight onto your flailing body, as well as the burning blanket. You sat in the sink, ass half in the now empty spaghetti pot, completely drenched from head to toe. Fred’s pant leg was still simmering, and his entire face was covered in marinara sauce, which had dripped down to cover most of his shirt. After all of the shock of what had just happened finally passed, a small smile crept onto both of your faces, and soon you were both bent over laughing hysterically.

Fred lifted you out of the sink, pushing you away suddenly when he realized how much water was dripping onto him. “C’mon, love, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Hey, I thought I said no nicknames,” you teased, falling in step with him as you both rushed to your shared bathroom.

“C’mon, just this one, please? I deserve it after what you put me through back there.” He gave his best puppy dog eyes but you didn’t fall for it for a second.

“What I put you through?!” you said, bumping into his shoulder. “You thought we were supposed to light the noodles to get them to soften! I caught on fire for Pete’s sake!”

He laughed at you as you turned on the bathroom sink and tugged at your sweater. It was completely scorched in the back, black all the way up to your collar. You were lucky Fred had put it out when he did, otherwise there was a good chance it could have damaged your hair.

You took the now ruined sweater off, leaving you standing there in only your bra and a pair of comfortable pants. You could feel Fred’s gaze on your body, making your face turn red and you instinctively covered yourself up. He unbuckled his scorched trousers and hung them in the shower, hoping that maybe he could get some material and fix them later.

The both of you realized simultaneously that you were each half naked, and you were completely soaked wearing a fairly transparent white bra. Deciding to distract from the obvious tension, you finally broke the silence. “This may sound completely ludacris, considering I was just, y’know, on fire, but that was one of the most exciting and fun things that’s happened in a while. Reminds me of when we were back in school, with all of the mischief and pranks.”

“Back in school?” Fred replied. “I thought you hated my pranks! You seemed like you were so, i dunno, above me. And I thought you hated everything fun and exciting!”

“You’re not serious, are you?” You smiled at his confused expression. “I was friends with Lee and your brother. The amount of trouble I would get in when you were off in detention or shagging some girl in our year...it was fantastic. I never hated your pranks, I just hated you. No offense.”

He shrugged. “None taken. I hated you too. But you’re nothing like I thought you were.”

You took a step closer to him, softly biting your lip as you grinned sheepishly. “You’re nothing like I thought either.”

This time Fred moved a few inches closer, his hand hovering over your hip and eyes taking in all of you. His fingers brushed against your side ever so softly, caressing your side with his fairy light touches. You slowly parted your lips and he did the same, continuing to grow closer and closer until--

“What the bloody hell happened here?!”

The two of you shot apart at the noise, registering that it must’ve been George who had used the Floo network to come back to the loft. You avoided eye contact with the redhead standing next to you as you both exited the bathroom and went to find George, who was looking wide eyed at the complete mess you had created all over the apartment.

“Y’know what,” he said after looking at the current state the two of you were in, “ I don’t wanna know. I just wanted to come back, grab the papers I left here, and be on my merry way.”

He stopped short, looking over at you again. “Nice tits, Y/N.”

You quickly crossed your arms in front of your chest again and Fred stood in between you and George, blocking his view of your very exposed self.

“Calm down, Freddie, I have a girlfriend, I’m not going to be ogling your roommate, dear brother.” He tiptoed around the giant mess and grabbed a stack of papers sitting on the coffee table. “Oh, and before I forget, Y/N, remember that guy I was telling you about? The one investor I work with?” he said with a wink.

“Umm, yeah, what about him?” you asked, still very shaken up about the events of the evening.

“He said he’d love to get to know you! I told him he’s your type and apparently you’re very much his, so I set up a date for you two tomorrow night. Is that alright?”

Fred snapped his head in your direction but you refused to look at him. What had happened in the bathroom was a mistake, an adrenaline induced mistake that almost changed everything for your roommate dynamic. You couldn’t mess things up now, not when you and Fred had finally been getting along. Besides, you had been dying to get out and date, and George had at long last found you someone that wasn’t a complete asshole. You’d be a fool to not give it a shot. “Y-yeah, that sounds great.”

“Perfect,” he replied. “I’ll see you two tomorrow then. And please, don’t ever cook again. I promise I’ll be here to make you a nice meal next time, alright?”

George disappeared once again, leaving you with the man who had almost kissed you in the bathroom of your shared apartment. Fred moved away quickly, going to clean up the mess the two of you had made. You tried to follow and help him, but he just shooed you away and back to your room.

Just a few seconds ago Fred was mere millimeters away from you, but now he felt like he was millions of miles away.

------------------------------

“Ready, Y/N?”

George was standing in the opening of the bathroom door, watching as you put the finishing touches on your makeup. You decided to put your best foot forward tonight. No use wasting a great opportunity just because of some unwanted confusions from the other day. Turning to face you friend you did a little twirl, dress flying up and spinning around you.

“How do I look?” you asked bashfully.

“Brilliant,” George replied, a proud grin on his face. “Let’s get you downstairs, he’ll be waiting to meet you.”

The two of you made your way to the staircase leading out of the loft, when a very upset and very tipsy Fred stumbled by the two of you. He pushed past and didn’t even stop to say anything before heading out of the shop and down the street.

“Where’s he off to?” you asked.

“Oh, just to shag another random girl he finds at a bar. It’s a weekly occurrence for him at this point. It stopped once you moved in though, this is the first time he’s gone out since you’ve lived here.” George looked longingly at his brother, who had always turned away from his problems and instead focused on firewhisky and girls to temporarily ease his pain.

“So, he doesn’t really date then? Just the hookup type?” you prodded, hoping against all odds that George would give you the answer you wanted to hear.

“He used to, back in school and before the war. But something just happened after he got out of the pile of rubble,” he said. “I haven’t ever seen the same girl around here more than once or twice. But hey, as long as he’s alright it’s really none of my business. I just gotta look out for him, y’know?”

You gave George a reassuring smile. “You’re a great brother, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told. Now get out there and get yourself a man!” George gave you a little shove in the right direction and you set off for your date.

Although you were hoping that this could be a change of pace, a push in the right direction, the date did not go anything like you were wishing it would.

The man George had told you about, Jason, was a perfectly fine guy. He was polite, charming, very handsome. But while the two of you wined and dined, you couldn’t help but compare him to something else. Someone else. No matter what he said, what jokes he would crack, it just wasn’t what you wanted.

You thanked him for a wonderful evening, but it was fairly obvious that neither of you had intentions of seeing each other again. As you sulked through the dark streets of nocturnal Diagon Alley, you couldn’t help but mentally kick yourself for giving up so easily. One date and you decided that this man wasn’t worth your time. And for what? An unrealistic expectation you’d conjured up in your head about what your ideal person would be.

As you trudged up the stairs to the loft, thinking about how in the world you would ever be able to actually find someone else to go out with, you heard shouting from inside the apartment. You reached to open the door, only to have it yanked open and a young woman, clothes hastily thrown on and pure fury etched across her brow, came charging out.

“This must be her, isn’t it? This is Y/N!” she turned her back and yelled. Fred suddenly appeared, shocked to see you home so early. “Well, answer me!”

Fred and you both stood there speechless, Fred not knowing what to say and you now knowing what was going on. “Y/N…” he finally said, so quietly that you could barely hear him.

This just set the other girl off again. “What are you, his girlfriend, wife maybe?”

You shook your head fervently. “N-no, not at all! We’re just... roommates.”

The girl seemed to calm after this, reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder. “That’s a relief I guess. I thought I had just become an accidental homewrecker!”

“Homewrecker?” you exclaimed. You didn’t even know this girl, she was just one of Fred’s random hookups, but she thought that she would be breaking up a nonexistent relationship between you and Fred.

“Yeah,” she said, “he brings me home from the bar, sweet talks me, gets me naked, and you’ll never guess whose name he moaned as he--”

“That’s enough!” Fred yelled, shoving the girl out past you and grabbing your wrist to pull you into the loft. “Look, I’m sorry Marcy--”

“It’s Macy, you dumbass,” she said, fixing her messed up hair and putting on a look of confidence. “And the night is still young, so if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go find someone else who can actually remember my name!” She slammed the door shut behind her, the thud echoing across the walls.

You clicked your tongue, trying to fill the absence of noise without wanting to bring up the very interesting news Macy had provided. “So, I’m sorry about your date--”

“Let’s not talk about it,” he interrupted. “I’m going to bed and I don’t want you to mention this to anyone else, understand?”

You didn’t give him any attention as you went to your room, trying to comprehend everything that happened. “Well, my date was a bust too, thanks for asking,” you said as you copied the earlier actions of Macy and slammed your door shut. You undressed and removed your makeup, hoping that a long night’s sleep would allow you to decompress and somehow sort out everything you were feeling.

------------------------------

Your goals of a long and peaceful sleep were shattered as a high pitched, incredibly annoying alarm clock beeped from the room adjacent to yours. You groaned and covered your ears with your pillow, trying to block out the noise to no avail. Rolling over, you saw your clock displaying 6:00 am, a time you definitely didn’t want to get up at on your day off.

You thought Fred would have woken up by now and turned off the horrid sounds, but it continued to ring through your ears, getting louder and louder each time. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and you jumped out of bed, storming over to Fred’s locked bedroom door.

“Frederick Gideon Weasley!” you screamed, banging on his door. His blaring alarm was only adding to your awful mood, caused by the terrible night you had before. You didn’t think you could stand one more second of the noises and you were practically screaming Fred’s name.

“Turn that off, right now! Fred I’m not kidding! This is your last chance.” You continued to pound your fist against the door to the point where you knew you were going to bruise if you had to continue. Completely fed up with the situation and with Fred in general you pulled out your wand and unlocked the door.

“Fred Weasley for the love of--” You stopped abruptly and took in the scene in front of you. You’d never seen the inside of Fred’s room before, but you had to imagine that it didn’t always look this bad. This...dark.

The drapes were hanging from the windows, covering any source of light that could’ve possibly come in. Clothes were strewn across the floor and small knick knacks were thrown everywhere with no care. The alarm continued to blare, but you couldn’t focus on that at the moment, the only thing you could focus on was Fred.

He was curled up in his bed, Muggle headphones covering his ears and blasting music so loud that you could hear it clearly from across the room. He was clutching a pillow into his chest, head buried into it and his body shaking with what you thought to be sobs. No, it couldn’t be. Fred couldn’t be crying.

Suddenly he jerked up and threw off his headphones, finally noticing your presence. “Freddie…” you said softly.

“Get. The fuck. Out.” he growled. He wiped his tears away and the sadness you had just seen in him had completely turned into something else. Complete anger.

You ignored his command. “Fred, are you ok?”

Shooting out of bed, clothed only in his boxers, Fred grabbed his wand and almost charged at you. “I said get out!” he screamed, tears continuing to stream from his face. “Go! Leave! I don’t want to see you again!”

You backed out of the room, hands in the air as the tall infuriated figure towered over you with his wand in your face. “Yeah, ok I’ll just, umm, go back to my room.”

You tried to rush back to the safety of your bedroom but a harsh hand grabbed your shoulder and turned you around. “No,” he seethed. “I said get out, that means get. out. Get out of my apartment.”

“Freddie…”

“Don’t call me that!” He wasn’t even trying to hide the tears now. They came streaming out, drowning his face. “Leave the apartment and don’t come back. You’re… you’re banished!”

“Excuse me?” you asked, hands on your hips.

“I said you’re hereby banished from the loft and from my store!”

“You can’t banish me! This is my apartment too!”

“Banished! Leave! Go!” He ran into your room and started pulling clothes out of your drawers, throwing everything onto piles on your floor.

“Fred! Stop that, what are you doing?”

“I said banished and that’s final, get your things and leave.” He continued to pack your clothes, not even paying attention to what he was tossing and barely being able to see through his tears.

“Well...you’re banished too!” you screamed at him. “You’re in my room, that’s one of the rules! Get out, you’re banished!”

“No, you’re banished, I said it first so only mine counts!”

“No, you’re banished”

“No you are!”

“No--”

“Just get the fuck out Y/N!” Fred yelled, louder than he’d yelled anything before. “I can’t stand seeing you anymore and you need to go!”

“Why?” you pushed. “I see you crying one time and suddenly you can’t stand me? Are you really that scared of being vulnerable?”

“Yes!”

You both froze, taking in what he just said. He sucked in a deep breath and wiped his face with one of the shirts he was holding, coming close and staring straight down into your eyes.

“Yes. I don’t want you to see me curled up in my bed, crying into my fucking pillow because I miss my twin brother! Because I can’t handle being alone, and even when someone's living with me I’m still alone! Because you hate me, and I can’t even tell the girl I live with that I love her, because then you’ll laugh at me and leave! And maybe it’s easier to just make you go rather than being abandoned, again. So, Y/N, you’re banished, from my apartment and from my life.”

As he finished his rant you stood there, not knowing what to do or say. The ever-happy, cocky, overbearingly confident man in front of you had just vented out everything he had been feeling for the last few months. You couldn’t think straight or come to a rational decision. So you did the first thing that came to your mind. You grabbed his cheeks in your hand and pulled him down, enveloping his lips in yours.

He didn’t hesitate to kiss back aggressively, all tongue and teeth. It was nothing like any first kiss you’d had with anyone else; it wasn’t sweet or loving. It was passionate and needy, and it was both of you confessing everything you’d held in your hearts for the past few months, and if you’re being honest, for the past decade.

In seconds you were on the bed, legs straddling the person you had despised for years. Neither of you could let go of each other, only coming up for air when absolutely necessary. Hands on each other’s bodies, clothes abandoned on the floor, screams of each other’s names and moans of ‘I love you’s echoing off the bedroom walls, until the two of you were tired and panting, your head resting on his chest and his arms around your waist.

You twisted your head to stare up at Fred’s sweat-glistening face, the tears long since dried and his expression showing none of the negativity it had before. Snuggling into his bare chest even more, you murmured something too quiet for him to hear.

“What was that, darling?”

“I asked if you still wanted to banish me after that.”

He laughed and squeezed his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “Definitely not. I mean, unless you want to go.” He shifted nervously, fears of abandonment and rejection resurfacing. What if this was just a heat of the moment thing? What if all you wanted was a one time hookup and you didn’t have real feelings for him? What if he was bad? No, that last one couldn’t be it, your screams had said otherwise. But everything else…

“Of course I don’t want to leave Freddie, but you did break the “no nicknames” rule a second ago, so maybe I should banish you.” He ruffled your hair and glared at you before chuckling and slowly closing his eyes.

“Hey Freddie,” you asked quietly. “Did you mean what you said? About loving me?”

“Course I did, love. Why do you think I was such an arse at Hogwarts? You were too pretty and perfect and the stupid guys were always talking to you. Made me bloody pissed. I’m sorry about everything I’ve done to hurt you, really I am.” You could hear his heart beating faster at his apology. You traced your cool hands in patterns on his chest, sending shivers down his spine.

“Well I was never an angel either,” you said. “One time I snogged Roger right outside the Gryffindor Common Room just because I knew you were gonna be leaving for Quidditch practice soon and I liked getting under your skin.”

“I knew that was planned!” he said, shooting up and making your head hit the headboard behind you. “No one believed me, but I knew you were a little minx just trying to get under my skin. But I see nothing’s really changed, has it?”

“Oh shut up!” you said, suddenly self conscious of your very naked body being on full display, Fred’s eyes raking you over. You covered up and snuggled back into the bed. “I love you too, y’know. I’m sorry I’m such a stuck-up snob sometimes.”

“S’okay, darling. I know you were just like that in response to me. Sorry for pushing you away so many times. I guess I tend to do that a lot.”

“Hey.” You raked your hands through Fred's messy ginger hair, pulling strands into tiny braids. “You know that George didn’t abandon you, right? He loves you more than I’ve ever seen someone love before.”

Fred nodded softly, tears forming in his eyes again. “Yeah, I know. But it’s hard. We shared a room for 18 years straight, both at home and at Hogwarts. Then we shared an apartment, and now it feels like he’s not even here anymore. Which is bloody stupid because I see him downstairs every day. I just...I want to be able to come home and tell someone all about my day, and talk about dreams and goals until 3 in the morning, and--”

“And try to cook dinner together only to end up on fire?” you interrupted with a smile on your face. “I know I’m no George, but I want to be there for you in any way I can. Stay up late and go on adventures and go on double dates with your brother and Angelina. I wanna be yours. I mean, if you’ll let me.”

Fred cupped your cheek and pulled you into a chaste kiss. “I’ll do more than let you, I was about to ask anyways but you had to beat me to it, didn’t you?”

“It’s a habit,” you shrugged. “I’m glad you tried to banish me.”

“I’m glad you wouldn’t let me. Looks like your stubbornness finally paid off.” You shoved his chest lightly and wrapped your arm across his torso.

“I love you Freddie.”

“I love you too.”

A few silent moments passed with the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms. “Hey Fred?” you said, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Can you please get up and turn off that bloody alarm?”

Tag List(specific fic): @lucymfer

Message me to be on my main taglist or any of my series taglists!

#fredweasley #fred #fredweasleyfic #fredweasleyfluff #fred x y/n #tw cursing #fred weasley #weasleys wizard wheezes #harry potter #hogwarts #diagon alley #george weasley #theweasleyslut's bday wc #abby’s week of weasley

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aesthetic-angel612 · 3 years

Text

THE 4 STAGES OF HATE TO LOVE- BUCKY BARNES

Y/N and Bucky despise each other. But what will sleep, showers and mission do to resolve that?

Masterlist

It was roughly 1am at the Avengers compound, Steve and Sam had been on a mission all day. Steve and I were close. Brother, sister type bond, and he had messaged me whilst flying home on the Quinjet. He mentioned something about meeting an old pal...I of course agreed to greet them as they arrived.

Hearing the elevator ding, I stood up, cracking my neck, and made my way over. First out stepped Steve, pulling me into an embrace; next Sam, patting my shoulder and finally

"Y/N meet Bucky, Bucky meet Y/N" Steve smiled.

"Nice to meet you" I replied, sticking my hand out to shake his. He started at me and then my hand, dumbfounded. I slowly pulled my hand away and turned to Steve.

"Well I'll let you guys get some sleep...see you in the morning" I waved off, embarrassed.

...And that was how I met Bucky Barnes.

From then on, me and Bucky never got on, whether it was fighting over milk, or fighting over who caused the mission to go south. We could never get on. In fact, the rest of the Avengers tried to keep us as separated as they could, knowing we would kill each other if we could. What didn't help however was the fact that our rooms were opposite each other.

I don't know why he hated me, it seemed he just had this fury towards me. Like my existence ruined his life.

===============================================================================

Saturday nights are usually the teams chill nights. No one has any missions or jobs. So, the group often put a film on together and relax, not thinking of anything but being together. Tonight was Steve choice of film, so as always, we all made our way to the living room. However, my night got ruined when the only seat available was, of course, next to Bucky. Sighing, I decided to just sit, not wanting to ruin the night for the others. I saw him roll his eyes but again, I didn't make a fuss over it, knowing he hates me anyway.

Half way through the film (which was boring, not going to lie) I felt a wave of tiredness wash over me. Keeping my eyes open felt like a chore so slowly but surely I fell asleep. Without knowing, my head was now resting on Bucky's shoulder. The whole team now looking at him smirking, and for some unbeknownst reason...he wrapped his arm around me.

The next morning, I woke up in my bed, confused as to how but I guessed either Steve or Tony has carried me back. Heading towards my bathroom, I tried to turn my shower on but to my luck it was broken.

"Jarvis, where's Tony?" I asked.

"He's in the lab Miss" he replied.

I made my way to the lab and tried to convince Tony to fix my shower.

"Y/N, honey I cant right now, use Barnes, he's never in his room" he sighs.

"but-but Tony i-"

"sorry kid...later" he walks off.

Grumbling to myself, I push Bucky's door open and unsurprisingly, it was empty. His room surprised me though, it was dark and cold yet felt like it could be so comforting if it had love given to it. Turning on his shower, the hot water hitting my back, I finally relaxed and tried to not think about anything else.

Minutes go past and I heard the door click. Fuck. I heard a sigh and then the bathroom door open.

"I know it's you Y/N, Tony told me" He said monotone.

"I-um- I wont be long I-" and that' when I felt a gush of wind and the shower curtain open. Bucky stood there, everything on display.

I squeaked and turned around facing the shower trying to cover myself.

"What? I need a shower and you're in MY shower" He replied nonchalantly.

My heart was beating so fast. I felt his rough hands on my shoulder, massaging them.

"No wonder you're moody all the time, the tension in your shoulders...Christ" He said.

Leaning into his touch, he continued to massage both my neck and shoulders. The shower together continued, both of us washed each others hair for the first time since we met, we both smiled.

================================================================================It had been a week since the shower incident and me and Bucky hadn't exchanged much words. We exchanged glances and hasn't fought but speaking was still a no-go. That was until the mission.

We'd been paired up together on a mission, and the mission wasn't go right. I ended up on the floor with a bullet through my leg. Bucky had taken out the guy that did it and ran towards me.

"shhh, you're okay. Show me where it hurts" He had concern in both his face and voice. Pointing to my leg, he nodded and picked me up bridal style, taking me back to the Quinjet.

Once back at the compound. He took me to Banner to heal me up.

That was when I realised he didn't hate me as much as I thought.

That night, back in my bed, I couldn't stop the demons. The nightmare of the mission kept replaying in my dream. Waking up in a cold sweat, I needed a cuddle. I didn't want to wake anyone else up as they all were exhausted. The only people who left the mission early was me and Bucky.

I raised my fist and knocked on his door. A sleepy Barnes appeared rubbing his eyes.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" He asked in his rough voice.

"I keep having nightmares and normally I go to Steve and we cuddle but i don't wanna go to him because he's exhausted but so is everyone else and I know you don't like me but i was wondering if I coul-" I ramble and instantly I'm flung over his shoulder.

He plops me back down onto the bed and pulls the sheet over us, he right arm going under my head, his metal arm going over my waist drawing me into his chest spooning me.

"This ok?" he whispers in my ear.

"Perfect...thank you" I respond.

"for the record, I don't hate you. In fact, I never did. I don't know why I've been such a dick to you. But I'm so sorry. Truly" he kisses my forehead.

"I never hated you too, I just always thought you did. i actually like you. You're caring to those you love, you're smart and you're incredibly handsome" I giggled.

"OH really?" He smirks, poking my side making me squirm and laugh more,

Eventually we both fall asleep in each others arms, no nightmares, just peace.

And this was the beginning of an incredible relationship with James Buchanan Barnes.

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darkmulti · 3 years

Note

can you make a pt2 Y!CEO!JK taking employer!reader by force to be a surrogate mother. where the OC falls in love with tae who is a powerful lawyer, she tells him what jk and his wife are doing about the baby. They lose custody of the child the oc have the custody so jk takes revenge on his wife

-> sorry for any mistakes

-> this is going to be hella dark so click away if you don’t like dark themes

-> Part 1

⚠️: YANDERE BEHAVIOUR, mentions of forced pregnancy

In part one, I mentioned at the very end that you were pregnant with another man’s child

Well, Taehyung is that other man

(Imagine being the baby mama of Jeon Jungkook AND Kim Taehyung’s child. Like only y/n can do that✋🙄🌚)

You met Taehyung three months after giving birth

That was when you started cutting Jungkook off

You even resigned and never showed your face there again

Of course Jungkook was angry about it and wanted to go after you but his wife got angry at him so he couldn’t do much

You ended up hooking up with Taehyung because you were super wasted

The next morning you woke up in his bed, naked

Although he didn’t know you well, he made you breakfast and helped you shower

You were going to leave but he begged you to stay and confessed that he felt a connection with you

You stayed with him but ended up crying about your life situation

Taehyung couldn’t believe that you gave birth to a child

You sure didn’t feel like it last night

You were tighter than ever

He felt bad and told you that he would be able to help you out

You asked how and he told you that he was a lawyer

Taehyung is an extremely successful lawyer

At the beginning of his career, of course it was challenging

He would win some cases and lose some cases

But over time that stopped

His clever mind always managed to finesse the system somehow and since then he has won every case

Taehyung pulled you onto his lap and hugged you

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m going to help you.”

Meanwhile, Jungkook was blowing up your phone

He hasn’t seen you in a year

He was out with his wife and kid but instead of spending time with them, just like how they planned, he was too busy trying to figure out where you were

His wife got mad at him, telling him to stop bothering you but Jungkook pushed her away and said that you’re “apart of the family.”

He got up from the park bench and went to his car

“I’m going to see if she’s in her apartment.”

His wife sighed heavily

She knew her marriage was falling apart but she didn’t want Jungkook taken away from her

She wished that she wasn’t infertile

If she wasn’t, her and Jungkook would’ve been the happiest couple alive

She also despised you

You weren’t infertile, you caught the eyes of her husband and you were the mother of Jungkook’s son

Even though she was Jungkook’s first love, she knew Jungkook would leave her for you

She hated you

She started showing some hatred towards your son as well

After all, it wasn’t her biological child anyway

While his wife was sinking in her own thoughts, Jungkook was at your front door, banging on it

Your phone location was off and there was absolutely no sign of you

Jungkook was worried

What if something happened to you?

He was driving in downtown when suddenly he spotted your figure on the sidewalk

He honked his horn and signalled you to come to his car

Taehyung’s office was in downtown and you decided to tag along

He had to do some paperwork so you told him that you’re going to get some food for him

He wanted to come along but an important phone call stopped his from putting his coat on

You kissed his cheek and told him you’d be fine

He gave you his debit card for the food, but you put it back on his desk and said that you’ll pay

He frowned but since he was on the phone, he couldn’t argue

Like I was saying, Jungkook honked his horn and gestured you to come to him

You didn’t want him to bother you for the rest of the day so you went to check what he wanted

You didn’t went to get into the car so you told him to park and come out

“I can’t park and come out. *your son’s name* and *his wife’s name* are waiting for us at the park

“Park? I can’t go. I have to work.” You lie

“Please, get in. We have to talk on the way to the park.”

“Jungkook, I’m not getting in the car. For the last time, I gave birth to our child and gave him up to you and your wife. I don’t want anything to do with you. What happened in the past stays in the past. I moved on and you should focus on your kid and wife.”

You walk away from his car, not looking back

“Wait!” Jungkook said, parking his car and jumping out

You pulled out your phone, hit the record button and put it back in your pocket

He ran up to you and pulled you to a bench nearby

“I want to have another baby with you. I’ll leave my wife. We can have our own family. We can get married and we’ll have two children. Please, it’ll be perfect.”

You scoff and get up

“You’re disgusting, Jeon. I wasn’t willing to be your surrogate in the first place. You forced me into that shit. Now you want to leave your wife and marry me? Now you want to have a family with me? The audacity you have. I will never marry a monster like you. In fact, I’m taking this shit to court. I want full custody of my child because I didn’t agree on being your surrogate.”

You got up and ran away but Jungkook followed you

You ran into someone’s chest and thank god it was Taehyung

“Hey, are you okay? Why are you running?”

“Y/N!” Someone screamed behind you and that’s when Taehyung saw the problem

Jungkook stood in front of you both in shock

“Who is this, Y/N?! Are you cheating on me?!”

“Ha, “cheating” on you. When did we even get together?”

Jungkook’s blood was boiling

You were seeing another man behind his back

“You only belonged to me! How dare you?!”

“I don’t belong to anyone. Even if I did, I wouldn’t allow myself to belong to a married man.” You snap back

“I told you I’ll get a divorce. We can have our own family.”

“I don’t want to start a family with you. In fact, I’m pregnant with Taehyung’s child.”

Both of their eyes widen but then Taehyung pulls you for a tight hug

“Y-you’re pregnant with my child. You just made me the happiest man alive.”

Jungkook clenched his fist and threw it towards

Luckily, Taehyung stepped back and Jungkook missed

“What the hell Jungkook?! You-”

Taehyung held your hand and pulled you towards him

“Don’t waste your breath on him, Y/N. We’ll see you in court.”

You and Taehyung left Jungkook in disbelief

Court Day

Taehyung sat beside you with all the important papers laid out

He rubbed the back of your hand under the table, reassuring you that everything will be fine

You told the judge your experience and how everything happened

You then pulled out your phone and played the conversation you and Jungkook had

Then Jungkook told his side of the story and said that you “agreed” to be his surrogate

The judge asked for the surrogacy paper which would show that you agreed to everything and signed the paper but his lawyers face went blank

They were then found guilty and you won full custody of your child

You hugged Taehyung then ran to your son

He immediately recognized you even though you haven’t seen him in a year

He hugged you and cried on your shoulder about how much he missed you

Jungkook was sentenced to jail but of course his wife bailed him out because he was loaded with money

Months later

Three months ago, Taehyung proposed to you

You guys know each other for a little over a year plus you were pregnant with his child so of course he wanted to settle down with you

You were six months in so your baby bump was very visible

Taehyung treated your son like his own and kissed your belly every day

Finally, everything was coming together

Your son was happy

Taehyung was happy

You were happy

Everything was perfect

Jungkook on the other hand, was furious

You were pregnant with another man’s child

And now you’re getting married to another man

If only Jungkook didn’t propose to his current wife, maybe, just maybe he would have been with you

He went upstairs and threw all his wife’s clothes out the window

“This is all your fault! I shouldn’t have married you! If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have to watch the love of my life run off with another man!”

His wife’s heart crumbled into pieces

“I want a divorce! I want you out of my house and out of my life!” He screamed

“No! Please, Jungkook! I love you so much! You can’t leave me for that slut! She’s taken! You’ll never get her anyways! Just let me stay with you! I love you! You’re my first everything! You can’t just-”

Jungkook slapped her

“Don’t you dare call the mother of my child a slut. Get out of my house. You’ll see, I’m going to get her back.”

Omg this was so messy! I’m so sorry

#yandere bts reaction #yandere bts #bts yandere #mail: 📭#yandere jungkook #yandere taehyung

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cant-think-of-anything · 3 years

Text

All my energy was used on the fic, you don't get a title

Basically I took the scenes of lord of shadows and replaced the characters

( @littlx-songbxrd helped me develop the plot a lot so thank you Zia)

TW: descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of homophobia and ableism

Thomas had quickly come to the conclusion that he hated the land of Fae. Not because the location itself harboured ill experiences, but rather because of his travel companions.

He glanced at said travel companions. Alastair and Christopher were attempting to assemble a fire, struggling greatly because London wasn't exactly a place of forests. Alastair's face was stern with concentration, eyebrows drawn together as they always were, a permanent appearance of disapproval. His lips were turned down slightly, frustration causing him to scrunch up his face.

It wasn't adorable, Thomas scolded himself, it was intolerable. And entirely unenjoyable. He breathed a sigh, turning away from them and back at the rushing waters of a river. They'd been sent to be audience to the Seelie court and request their assistance to defeat Belial. It was a useless excursion, the Faerie wouldn't intervene unless their own land was being threatened. But the Clave had sent them regardless.

Christopher called his name, his voice a whispered yell as to not draw attention from whatever lurked in the forests. He picked his way back, settling on his sleeping mat and looking up. Without a fire, only moonlight made anything visible. Christopher had curled up already, but Alastair was awake. He was staring up at the stars his eyes wide with something like wonder.

The sight was disarming, but Thomas turned away, before Alastair caught his stare. Nothing good could result from that. The Sanctuary was a few weeks past, and what had started as longing glances and tortured pining turned into short tempers and quick annoyance. They hadn't talked, not the way Thomas desperately wanted to, but they had argued and bickered nearly every time they crossed paths. And he despised it.

Curling his hand into a fist, he turned onto his side and willed himself to sleep.

____

Alastair was fairly certain they were lost. It was as if Faerie shifted everytime they were on the correct path, and it accomplished nothing but adding to his frustration. And apparently, Thomas's.

"We should go north." He said, his eyes glinting with annoyance.

"Are you stupid? Do you want us to get killed? We'll end up there either way."

"Your method would take longer and time is something I don't fancy to waste."

"And your brilliant solution is to- what? Traverse through an entirely unmapped territory? It's far too dangerous, and I would like to keep my head adjoined to my body."

"Maybe sometimes it would do you some good to do something dangerous."

"Oh?" Alastair whirled towards him, their faces inches away from the other, each sparked with anger. "Do something dangerous? Like you? To my memory, it got you imprisoned!"

"Perhaps it would suit you to travel in solitude! Since you always seem to prefer that anyway!"

"I do not-"

"I really do not think we should be causing this much of a disturbance," Christopher chimed in, his face twisted in confusion, head swiveling between both of them. "They're simply... directions?"

"Without directions." Alastair said, "you end up lost." His eyes stayed locked with Thomas's, head tilted to meet his infuriating height.

"We won't get lost," he hissed back.

"For someone with a tattoo of a compass you truly have a horrendous sense of direction-"

"We could just," Christopher started, flipping the map over, before looking up with wide eyes. "Go through here." He gestured at the map.

"Absolutely wonderful. Let's leave, I wish to depart as soon as we're able."

A few moments passed before a loud screech like noise emerged from the forests. Because why, Alastair thought drawing out his weapons, would anything ever be simple for him. Christopher and Thomas pressed closer when the creature burst forth from the trees. And really creature was the only world he had for it. It appeared as a demon but not one Alastair had ever studied, and from the looks on the others faces they hadn't either.

"Do we-"

The creature lunged faster than any demon could, a flash of the murky green that colored it's scales. It's claws flashed, charging at Thomas. Alastair briefly registered slipping in between the two, lodging the wooden shaft of his spear between it's jaw. He sought out Christopher sliding under the thing to stab it with his blade, killing it quickly but not quickly enough to prevent when the creatures claws raked against the top of his chest.

Air rushed out of his lungs and he felt familiar arms wrap around him, catching him before he could fall. His eyes fluttered shut on their own record. He fought to regain conciusness, he refused to be unconscious around the likes of his companions, but he felt himself dragged into blackness regardless.

---

Christopher was accustomed to his friends odd relations. He had certainly gained enough practice observing the spats they often had. But whatever anger his cousin held towards Alastair was always a puzzle to him. He was sure it was a puzzle to them too considering their never ending shifts in emotion.

He looked over at Thomas who's face was twisted in something between intense worry and sorrow. His eyes dropped to Alastair who had still not woken up, bandages covered the scratches that stretched from his shoulder to the top of his neck. He winced remembering the injury, bleeding profusely with no runes to stem it. His own worry for Alastair had occupied much of his mind. James and Matthew would be furious at such a thing but Christopher found he didn't care.

"I'll go stand watch," Christopher offered, making his way to the outside of the cave they'd taken shelter in.

Thomas hated being in debt, he remembered. When they were younger he would never accept help unless it was forced upon him, his stubborn nature preventing it. And now after Alastair had risked his life twice to help him, he must feel like he owed something.

Christopher pulled himself onto one of the rocks resting outside of the cave and tipped his head back. He missed his home. Not whatever had overtaken it in the months past, he missed Henry, he missed his parents who he'd barely conversed with since before the killings had happened. He missed Alexander even if the child cried a storm. He glanced up at the sky, noticing the first rays of dawn breaking through the clouds. He pulled himself off of his rock with a sigh. He wished for normalcy more than anything. But he doubted it would grace them anytime soon.

He ducked under the entrance of the cave, opening his mouth to call out for Thomas to get ready to depart. But Thomas wasn't awake.

He was curled onto his side, facing Alastair, both evidently asleep. Their hands stretched out the distance between them and were laced together.

Christopher sucked in a breath. "Oh, Thomas," he breathed.

He'd known of his cousin's vauge feelings for Alastair from the time that Thomas was quite a bit shorter than him. But he hadn't fully understood what the two felt towards each other. He knelt between them, gently attempting to pry their hands apart, but both their grips tightened. As if through the small action they were able to pour every unsaid emotion they'd held.

Christopher wasn't a stranger to the way the Clave treated anyone they viewed as different. The way they shut down every attempt Henry had made to better the Shadowhunter world, the way they would continue to deny any of his own attempts. They claimed to want happiness and order for all but the moment someone proved to differ from their standards they would shut them down and rid of the evidence. They would remain under the pretense of fairness while they claimed credit for any accomplishments him or his uncle managed to force into them.

Thomas never had chosen himself, never his own happiness. Christopher let go of their intertwined hands, then looking at Thomas's face. It was almost drawn up in concentration. He stood, glancing at them once more before returning to the front of the cave and yelling for Thomas to wake up so they could depart to the castle. It wasn't as much as he wanted to do, but it was all he could.

___

Thomas dumped their small pile of belongings near the foot of the bed. The Seelie Queen had apparently chosen graciousness that night and permitted them two rooms. Christopher claimed the first one, leaving Thomas and Alastair to occupy the other. Not that Alastair had woken yet.

Thomas crossed the room, refusing to look where Alastair was laying on the bed, where he would soon need to lay next to him. He made his way to Christopher's room, too tired to truly marvel at the tall marble pillars and regal decor adorning the halls and bedrooms. Christopher was cross-legged on the bed, scrawling something into a notebook under the dim lights that shone through the waterfall close to the wall.

He pulled himself onto the bed next to him, worrying at the material of his nightshirt. Christopher looked up after a moment, fixing his peculiar eyes on Thomas.

"Are you all right Tom?"

The question shouldn't have startled him as much as it did. "I'm okay."

Christopher lips tightened. "You're lying. You usually do when people ask you."

Thomas breathed a soft sigh, pulling his legs up onto the bed. "I know."

Christopher studied him for a few moments, debating something in his mind before saying "You don't have to sacrifice yourself to make us happy Thomas. Anyone who truly cares for you will not love you any less for your decisions."

Thomas startled, looking at him with widened eyes. Something in his heart sped up, as if a weight had lifted from it causing it to beat faster in it's absence. "I don't- I don't understand-"

A hand gripped his forearm. "Go back to your room Thomas. I suspect he'll wake soon."

___

When Alastair woke he wasn't in a forest. He had known the Faerie were images of royalty but the room seemed ridiculously extravagant. He wanted to pull himself up in the bed but a sharp sting on his neck forced him back down.

The door swung open then, Thomas entered with a odd look on his face. It switched to overwhelming relief when he saw Alastair.

Swallowing, Alastair rose a hand his neck. The Faeries must have worked on the wound, it had healed over somewhat but not enough to relieve him of the pain.

He heard Thomas clear his throat. When Alastair looked up again, he'd moved to the other side of his bed. "You had gotten injured in the forest. We're in the Seelie Courts now, you've been indisposed for a few hours."

"Oh." He wasn't sure what else to add.

Thomas stared at him for a few unnerving moments before making a frustrated noise. He slid onto the bed, folding his legs underneath him and giving Alastair an imploring sort of look. "I'm sorry. For everything I've done. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you the right words in the sanctuary. I'll try to give them now."

Alastair inhaled sharply, from surprise rather than pain. "I don't understand. You shouldn't be apologizing-"

Thomas half smiled before cutting him off. "Let someone apologize to you for once. You deserve as much after the way we've treated you."

Biting his lip and looking away, Alastair noticed the pile of clothes and other luggage in the corner of the room. Oh. He turned back.

"Well Mr. Lightwood I find your apology to be satisfactory, despite it still being unnecessary."

Thomas smiled fully then and something in Alastair's chest loosened.

"Does this mean I am permitted to use the bed alongside you?" His voice was teasing.

"As long as you manage to stay on your side of it."

But that rule was quickly broken, Thonas shifted close and carefully curled his body around Alastair, his head resting on in his curls and limb wrapped loosely around him. Alastair breathed a small breath of relief before pressing his face into Thomas's neck and sleeping peacefully for the first time in years.

Happy birthday Zia!! Ilysm and you deserve literally every good thing in the world, you're amazing and very talented and yeah <33

Tagging: @adoravel-fenomeno @thewarthatsavedmylife @eugeniaslongsword @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @alice-got-the-blues @writeforjordelia (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

I'll tag @youngreckless for thomastair week

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #tlh #thomastair #the last hours #tsc

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keltonwrites · 3 years

Text

I bought a house in the middle of nowhere

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.” It was something akin to that, at least. He didn’t mean any mischief, no deceit or planning. It was an honest take on what, at the time, was true. I saw the road into town on Google Maps, noted that it was closed during the winter, acknowledged the reality that a person can own a snowmobile, and I said, “we are not moving there.” But, all good truths are just dares in the making.

And here I am, living in the “there” I said I would not. Two years ago, I left my job at Headspace for a life reset. It was pre-pandemic, and Ben and I were planning a big road trip. Our perfect paradise in Topanga, CA, had crystallized itself as many people’s perfect paradise, and those “many people” all had more money than us. Our options to buy a home were nil, and home-buying was essentially all we wanted. Ben’s a builder and I’m a world builder, and we wanted somewhere to invest that didn’t belong to someone else. We packed the car with the tent and the bikes and the dog and all the things that come with tents and bikes and dogs, and off we went on our own Tour de l’Ouest, looking for a place to call home. We knew what we wanted, knew our odds of finding it, and hit the road anyway. Here was the dream list — concocted by two pie-in-the-sky dummies who married each other:

Not rainy or consistently windy

Notable access to the arts

Remote and challenging to get to/close neighbors

Wild West influenced architecture

Progressive community

Exceptional trail access out the front door

High-speed internet

In our budget

And my personal favorite: had to “feel right” Good luck to us with a list like that, but thus began our hunt. We camped in the snow, tried every dirty chai in the Rockies, and explored every town we could. Whatever a good time it was, it felt useless. Every town Ben was OK with, I hated. Every town I was OK with, Ben despised. And the few places we both loved required money we just didn’t have. We came home with our sails down, limping into the harbor of our rental. But as is the way with romantics, our dreams began to slowly eclipse our reality. Books fell victim to Zillow and Trulia. TV was replaced by the MLS. All writing time was dedicated to Realtor.com. Hours were spent pouring over maps, county records, and updating spreadsheets that tracked price per square foot compared to beds and baths. Over time, all that internetting led to one singular town of 180 people at 10,000 feet in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado with a road that said “Closed Winters” on Google Maps. Look, I don’t know what happened. Ben found this town on a map, I said don’t be ridiculous, and after a year or so of him telling people I'd never move here, here I am, being ridiculous. Was it reverse psychology? Maybe. Was it the charming “town plan” that mandated all houses be rustic cabins and forbade AirBnB? Could be. Was it the fact that when I looked at Strava’s Heatmap, it showed what seemed like thousands of miles of trails just out the front door? I mean, yes. All these things played a part, but all I know for certain is that one day I woke up and said, “we’re going to move there.” Ben doubted this conviction (and the realities behind it) thus cementing it into place in my head. In a town of 180 people there’s only ~60 houses, which means maybe 2 or 3 get listed per year — but my spreadsheet had the proof: we hadn’t missed our chance yet in this tiny town. The data showed a strong likelihood there would be at least two houses listed within the calendar year. This, however, was also our last chance. The spreadsheet also showed that if we didn’t find a house this year, we wouldn’t be able to afford one the next. We called a realtor, made our case, and harangued her until she believed us that we were truly the kind of yahoos who would move to an avalanche field and stay there. And then it happened. A pocket listing. It was a darling home built in 1890. It had the beds, the baths, and the views. We were the first and only to know. We put in an offer, they agreed, and we would come to see the house in a few weeks. But in those few weeks, the circumstances changed. The sellers lost their own sweet deal, and they couldn’t sell yet. Their agent promised we had right of first refusal, it was only a matter of time. Ben lamented, I preached patience, and we went to see the house that was no longer for sale anyway.

It was a quiet winter morning in Covid when we drove across the packed snow to meet our realtor outside the house. The sun was out and the 13 degrees Fahrenheit felt warm. I unzipped my jacket, mask on my face. I took long videos and talked about where I would set up my office and where we’d put the bikes. As we closed up and I settled into a future where this house would eventually be mine, our realtor told us there were comps in the area — other residents quietly interested in potentially closing out. Would we like to see them? Sure, let’s.

One home came with an incredible commercial kitchen. The whole house was a whopping 3500 sq ft if my memory serves me correct, which falls under the category of “houses too big to find your cat in."

Another home had an open-air-to-the-kitchen bathroom.

The third was dark and overpriced with cracked windows and open beer cans scattered about.

And then, plans changed. “Hey guys, there’s actually one more house we can see.” The last house we saw was a log cabin, nestled in the hillside by itself, with massive A-frame windows looking out onto the peaks beyond. Inside was a labyrinth of a life lived long and large. The cabin was built and loved by a man we’ll call Jack. Jack was 82, and as we walked toward the front door on that sunny winter morning, he exited with two beers in his pockets, headed to the mountain to ski. Jack was an attorney — in his life he’d been both criminal and defender — and from the stories, somewhat interchangeably. There were artifacts from running in the same scenes as Hunter S. Thompson and Willie Nelson; there were stuffed birds, bad books, sheet-covered couches, smoked spliffs, and piles and piles of mouse shit. Every inch of the house was lived in, and not just by people. You think millennials like plants? No. This man likes plants. The biggest monstera deliciosa I’ve ever seen, spanning some 10 feet wide and 15 feet tall. Draping cactuses, spider plants, massive aloes, and an ambitious hoya carnosa clawing its way to the top of the massive fireplace. But there were problems. I’m trying to be diplomatic saying the house was lived in. The wood by the door handles was dyed black from years of hand grease rubbing against it. The carpet in the upstairs was soiled almost everywhere with bat scat. Newspaper was stuffed between the massive logs to keep the wind out. There was cardboard taped over almost every window, blankets nailed over the others. Half the doors wouldn’t open. It was unnerving to touch the crusted light switches. It was early enough in the season of Covid-fear that touching anything felt like gambling. On our way back to our rental in the bigger neighboring town, we shared our awe and our no-ways, lamenting how long we’d have to wait for the little 1890s fixer upper. That night, I sent the video I took of the cabin to my parents. “Can you believe this?” I asked. And do you know what my dad said? “Great log construction.” After that, the cabin was all we could talk about. “Could you believe those plants?” “Did you see how big those logs were?” “I just googled Jack, look at this.” “Do you know what the insulating factor of logs is?” “How much did he say he was asking?” It came down to the plants. Amidst all the chaos in that house, the tender care of those decades-old plants sung the clearest. This wasn’t just a place Jack lived in, it was a place that wanted to be lived in. We made an offer the next day.

Jack had six months to clear out his 30 odd years of collecting, and the town had six months to speculate about the worrisome Californians moving to their high-altitude, high-risk town. The town itself is an old mining town. It rests in a high valley, surrounded by peaks over 13,000ft, and is over six hours from the nearest major airport. Five people died around this town in avalanches this past year. The dirt road into town is littered with avalanche fields, warning visitors to not stop when driving in. The other way out is a pass road, only drivable in the warm months, but you could skin out if it was dire. Most August days, the high is in the mid-60s. The valley is blanketed in wildflowers, and the aspens littering the mountainsides suggest a promising fall display. The town had a heyday, a low day, and now it’s a community of preppers, adventurers, appreciators, and “get all these idiots away from me”ers. We don’t know these people yet, but the ones we’ve met have the same like to live hard attitude we do. Heli-ski guides, ex-CIA agents, woodworkers, bakers, teachers, just a general can-do group of people. The kind of people that see a California license plate and peer with skepticism between the thin gap over their sunglasses and under their caps.

You might say I’m romanticizing the place, but the residents are worse. Like all good old-timers, they’re full of threats: “wait’ll you see the snow drifts,” “let’s see how you do outrunning an avalanche,” “good luck with the winds,” “the last Californians didn’t last a year.” God, what does that remind me of?

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.”

With every taunt, my teeth ground more enamel, fingers rolling into a clench. And maybe Jack recognized this intensity, because on the day of closing, he hosted a gathering for us in the town's open space. He had us introduce ourselves to the skeptical locals, and I made my case in court, eyes narrowed and lips curled. “I’m the daughter of a smokejumper and wildlife biologist. I grew up watching the wind and the door. I’ve lived in big cities, small boats, and more than one cabin. I always take the stairs, I never use air-conditioning, and I’m a very good shot.” I’m just a girl, standing in front of a town, asking them to give her a fucking chance. Jack stepped forward to speak. “You know, I had my doubts about a couple Californians coming to look at my house. But these people? These are the nicest people you’re ever gonna meet.” And then I helped Jack set up his cot so he could spend his last night under the stars in the town that kept him young. Cooper ran circles with the other dogs. People brought homemade cocktails and bowls of dip and we felt welcomed. Even the mayor, a fellow writer, came and she struck up a conversation. “I hear you’ve got a little bit of a following on social media!” She teased. “I guess, nothing wild.” “Well I just wanted to let you know if you ever geotag this town, I’ll drag you out of it.” She grinned. This was a special place. And every visitor who couldn’t handle the realities of being here threatened the very wellbeing of the people who lived here. This town survives on a delicate balance. They source their own water, manage their own roads, and fervently protect the land and the people around them. Their stories about racing avalanches, snowmobiling in the dark of night to the doctor’s house, hunkering down in each other’s homes as the storms pass — these stories were bylaws. You can join when you’ve proven you’re ready to join. By their own projection, they are hardy and steadfast people, and when they see a Californian, they see something fleeting. Many years ago, I worked in the British Virgin Islands. The people born and raised there were called Belongers. At the customs office, the placards above the lines literally read, “If you belong, stand here” and “If you do not belong, stand here.” Whether or not we belong isn't up to the town council, and it's not up to these residents. It's up to years spent drifting my old Mustang in the snow on the way to school, up to Ben's months and months spent in the backcountry, up to my years of reading fire reports and assisting with evacuations, up to Ben's ability to read the landscape and the weather, up to my doggedness, his diligence, and our pathological love to do difficult things well. It’s up to us, to these old logs, and to this valley. Doesn't mean we'll belong, but it does mean we'll try. And for the record, the road is open in the winter. But do these sound like the kind of people who’d tell Google that? Next week, a tour of the house that we get to call ours — stuffed with newspaper, run by plants, and filled with mice. P.S. Here's where we get our mail.

Subscribe to the newsletter here. Follow on Instagram here.

#newsletters #amwriting #relocation #home renovation #cabin life #cabin living #colorado #log cabin

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dreamcatcherjiah · 3 years

Text

PART 11

💞Tight Hearts (Idol!Hoseok x Reader)

Plot: The red string of fate was visible when our grandparents were children. They would play around, following the strings from one person to their soulmate and laugh happily when these two people inevitably found each other. It was a reason for happiness. But little by little, people stopped seeing the threads. In bad times, it was dangerous, it was a liability, so people stopped seeing them to protect each other from harm. When I was born, nobody saw them anymore, they just felt their soulmate. Anxiety, happiness, sorrow, love, the hearts of the soulmates are one, feel the same things, but it is almost impossible to find your soulmate, now that the threads cannot be seen.

Tight Hearts Masterlist

Part 11

A/N: I may have gone a bit overboard with this one, but I literally couldn't stop writing! I hope you guys like it! Tell me what you thought? ILY🥺♥️

The boys were practising for their next comeback and they could see how you, from the other side of the room, were desperately trying not to freak out at being allowed in the room while they did. The song was powerful, dark and all-around a fantastic feast for the eyes, or so had you blurted out to Jhope when he asked about your opinion. You had instantly turned absolutely red and went to hide in the furthest corner of the practice room, as far as you could go without feeling discomfort. He thought that was cute.

He went back to his dance, losing himself in the movements, letting go of his thoughts and only moving with the music. The choreography was still in the early stages, the changes in position weren’t as seamless as he would have liked, Tae nearly kicked him while trying to do the one-handed turn, but it was okay since they had time to polish every single thing before January. They moved into the title song, which still was missing some of his rap. He hadn’t been precisely in the right frame of mind to finish his bars but now, nothing was stopping him from taking you into his studio and getting to work. The choreography needed it anyway, there was no link between the first chorus and Yoongi hyung’s part, which made it incredibly difficult to choreograph anything. What they could do, however, was perfect the dance-break, Jin hyung had opted out when given the option and that left them in two groups of three. During his part, Hoseok’s eyes moved on their own accord and focused on your reflection in the mirror. Your embarrassment had completely disappeared from your face, now filled with awe. You followed every move with rap attention, your head bopping with the low base as his body moved and hit every beat. His heart swelled when he felt how pride radiated out of your every pore, reaching him through the bond, energising his soul, endowing his last steps with strength and precision. Now was Jungkookie, Yoongi and Namjoonie’s turn, their turns already flawless; Joonie’s face alight with glee when he managed the turn made you laugh. Yes, he was happy. You made him happy with only your presence but, the appreciation and the support you were giving them, not only because of your being an Army, touched something inside his chest.

When the music stopped, some of them dropped to the floor, almost all of them, save for Namjoon. He skipped his way over to you, screaming euphoric after nailing the choreography for the first time, zero mistakes! He grasped your hands and pull you upright, dancing around the room, jumping and turning, making you laugh in glee. The sound of you laughing made them all stop, no longer catching their breaths, but looking at the tender picture of you and Namjoon. His eyes glancing around at his brothers, Hoseok caught glimpses of Jiminie’s eyes hiding behind crescents when he smiled, Tae and JK laughing in disbelief, how Jin hyung took out his phone to record and winked at him, as if telling him I will send this to you later, don’t worry. Yoongi hyung was simply just looking at him, a deep glint of pride in his eyes and a satisfied smirk breaking through his impassive façade.

Hoseok’s feet took him, without even realising, to where you were standing now, your hip resting against the refreshments table with a huge grin splitting your face. Head devoid of thought he just got closer and closer to you, wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. He sensed the second when you registered what he was doing, your body tensing, to relax instantly. Your hand flew to his head, resting there and caressing the short, damp strands of his hair behind his ears.

A chorus of teasing voices surrounded the two of you, Hoseok not paying any attention to the jabs, only focusing on how his muscles had untangled and his agitated breathing had instantly calmed the second he touched you. His rapid heartbeat, he knew, was not due to the straining dance moves he just did. It was you, it was all you, surrounding him. Your scent inadvertently invading his senses, your hand moving from his head to the nape of his neck to finally rest around his shoulders in an all-encompassing hug. His breath now caught in his throat when his traitorous brain told him how the depth of his feelings, so fresh and novel, was reaching a point of no return. He didn’t care. As long as you were this bright presence by his side, he would never regret his feelings for you.

After joining Hoseok and Namjoon in the latter’s studio while they worked on some verses for the title song, you met the rest of the boys and all of you were led in the same cars you arrived at a restaurant to have dinner. The place was deserted as Hoseok led you by the hand to a private dining room where a huge round table was set for eight. The managers just led you in, told some things to Namjoon and Jin and left you to your own devices.

The room was nosy, with a happy Hoseok to your left and Seokjin to your right, your eardrums bursting, but still, you were happy.

“Taehyungie hyung almost ended up hanging up his wet shoes in the company’s bathroom!” Shouted Jungkook, his belly laugh so contagious that even Tae ended up laughing while trying to explain.

“You just hate your shoes Taehyung! Everyone knows it!” You told him, eating some bulgogi from Hoseok’s plate while he was distracted laughing.

“Now, that’s not fair, you have an unfair advantage,” Tae answered, setting his elbows on the table and supporting his weight on them, “you know an awful lot about us and we know practically nothing about you, miss Army,” his teasing remark made you instantly shut up, a blush reaching your ears. Hoseok instantly projected his care toward you, wanting to let you know that Tae didn’t mean it with malice.

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself, searched for Hoseok’s hand and looked Taehyung straight in the eyes. “What do you guys want to know?”

Mischievous looks transformed the boys’ faces until Jin reined them in and calmed them by saying: “She may know about us, but she doesn’t really know us.”

While the staff came in and set the rest of the plates on the table, silence covered all of you. Seokjin was right. All of you knew it. You being a fan allowed you to know a certain amount of information about them, only the little bits that they chose to display, the little bits they shared. But there were many more sides to their personalities that they had kept close to their hearts. Namjoon wasn’t always the confident leader, his clumsiness too much for him sometimes. Yoongi, the quietest one, had been loud and supportive during rehearsals, running after the maknae line in a sort of catch-me-if-you-can game. They cared for each other in different ways, giving Hoseok a bottle of water as soon as he looked more winded than usual, hugging him from behind when a routine didn’t match his expectations… If anything, getting to know them from this close only made you love them more.

“You can ask me anything you want, it’s only fair. I’ll do my best to answer sincerely,” you smiled up at these men, so different between each other and yet they all had the same surprised look plastered on each of their faces. Hoseok recovered quicker than his brothers and reached you to kiss your cheek. Far from shying away from his show of affection, you smiled up at him, tightened your hold on his hand, and faced the table.

Namjoon was the first one to speak, brows furrowed as he played around with the food on his plate. “Let’s make this fair as you say,” he told you, “for each question from us you answer, we tell you something about us. I’ll start.” He looked around and after seeing six nods, took a deep breath and looked at you in the eye.

“I hate when we get asked questions about our personal lives during interviews about our music. They don’t care about it, they just want what Army can do. And I despise that.” His eyes were alight with sincerity as he opened up about himself, not about RM, but Namjoon. Smiling at him and nodding, you wordlessly thank him and give him the cue to ask you a question. “When did you start feeling pain because of the bond?”

Seeing his question had taken you by surprise, he looked sheepishly at you, waiting for your answer. He had dived right in.

“I was seventeen, maybe around 2011, it was something weird, like a pull behind the ribs. It wasn’t too much of a bother at the beginning, that changed over the years.”

Contemplating your words, the boys kept eating in silence while they mulled over who was going to ask you next.

“I… hate when people get close to us for our fame and use it against us,” said Jin next to you. His face was calm, his words steady. “Did you ever think it wasn’t worth it? Having a soulmate?”

Instinctively, your right hand flies towards his left, squeezing and looking at him. You didn’t have the strength to answer that question looking at Hoseok.

“A few months ago… I took a few days off work. The pain was so bad back then that I couldn’t even get up from the bed. I didn’t know who they were, but I just knew they were suffering the same pain I was. Hurting them that way didn’t make it worth it, I wanted to end it that day. I am not proud of it, but I don’t regret thinking it either.”

Suddenly, a wave of sadness hits you like a ton of bricks, just as Hoseok’s head rests on your shoulder. Jin looks at your wide eyes and smiles at you calmly. His presence is something you could never repay him for, you valued what a gift he was to the people around him. Without saying a word, you turn back to Hoseok, hugging him around the neck, only wanting to get rid of those negative feelings inside him. After a while, still agitated and without looking at you, he spoke.

“My biggest fear was being the reason my soulmate could potentially die,” he whispered, so low that you were sure nobody else had heard him. He shook himself out of his feelings and with a smile that didn’t really reach his eyes, spoke his question. “What do you value the most in life?”

Giving him back the biggest smile you could muster, you didn’t even need to think what to answer. It already was second nature, to tell the truth to this wonderful man, no questions asked.

“My independence, my parents always taught me how to be independent and I love the feeling of being able to provide for myself, give myself little prices when I feel like I’ve done something right and I am satisfied how it turned out.” Hoseok hadn’t taken his eyes away from yours as you answered, pride sweeping out of him as he kissed your forehead and settled you against his side for the time being. How fast had he caught on to know that you needed his comfort only from looking at your eyes?

The faces around the table were solemn and you got the feeling that the relaxed atmosphere they had intended for dinner had gone out the door the second Tae unknowingly started the interrogation. You wanted to stop, but you didn’t have the heart when they were also confessing to you, showing you parts of themselves. It was then when you realised that they also needed to tell you, not because they wanted to pay you somehow for the information you were giving up; they wanted you to get to know them as they were getting to know you. Jungkook was getting fidgety by the second and he was boring a hole in his plate with his stare until he raised his eyes and blurted out his confession.

“I grew up in the spotlight and I am used to the lack of privacy it brings, but when my life is aired out when scandals come out, I just want to be a 23 year old whose biggest concern is handing in essays on time and looking for a job,” he didn’t stop to breath while leaving it all out in the open and, giving the lack of reaction of his older brothers, this wasn’t the first time he lamented his lost childhood. “What is your happiest memory?”

You did have to think about that question; despite the pain, your college years had been some of the happiest of your life, when you picked up dancing and some of your best friends to the date you met then. Thinking clearly, there was a clear image in your head when you thought about the happiest moment of your life.

“It may have been my last year of college, some of my friends had been abroad the year before and we hadn’t seen each other in months. We met for Halloween, bought a ton of food and a lot of alcohol,” you chuckled, already happy only at remembering those couple of days, “we went to one of my friend’s house, we had pizza for dinner, listened to music and got drunk! I still remember clearly how my friend started dancing to Chungha and even dropped to the floor in the chorus of Gotta Go! We started speaking in English and we couldn’t switch back to Korean! We even started hugging each other every time we refilled our drinks…” you hadn’t noticed how you had raised your voice as you excitedly remembered that day, gesticulating with your hands, and now everyone in the room was happily looking at you, sweet smiles in their faces. You blushed a little bit and turned towards your soulmate, his head only a tad bit taller than you when he hugged you like this. His eyes were reflecting the happiness you were feeling and showing you just how much he cared for you.

Yoongi coughed a little, breaking the little bubble inside which you found yourself with Hoseok, making you focus on him.

“I know that, no matter what, music will always be a part of my life, but I am scared that people might misinterpret my message, dub me something I am not. Someone I am not,” he said, with such a conviction that the room descended into silence again. Even if his statement was frightening, how much of him depended on being understood, his gummy smile instantly made an appearance and, deviating his eyes to Hoseok for a millisecond, he asked: “Are you happy?”

“Immensely,” you responded, not needing to think and not needing to hide. After such a sincere question, that didn’t need further explanation, you looked at the two remaining men, while your soulmate’s arms tightened around you.

Taehyung and Jimin glanced at each other, debating who would go next and seemed to reach an agreement between them when Taehyung spoke first.

“I miss my grandmother a lot these days, I am always wondering what she would have said if she saw how far we’ve all come,” he told you, eye to eye, with a nostalgic smile that made his face solemn and distantly happy at the same time. “What are you most grateful for?”

The answer came instantly to your lips, but you had the good sense to clasp them closed before you blurted it out. You contemplated modifying your answer until something caught your attention; Namjoon was focusing all his attention on you, jaw locked and raised eyebrow, daring you to lie, to half-ass your way out of the question. That alone gave you the courage to say it, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t hide while saying it. Burying your face in your soulmate’s chest, you spoke up, loud enough so everyone in the room could hear.

“Hoseok.”

Loud whoops and peals of laughter could be heard even at the entrance of the restaurant, Hoseok’s chest vibrated with his sweet laughter, not restraining himself, he kissed the crown of your head several times and tightened, if it was even possible at this point, his hold on you until your ribs hurt.

Coming around the table with a face-splitting grin on his face, Jimin took your hand in his and extracted you from a not-so-happy Hoseok, who pretended to sulk while Jimin directed you to a part of the room that didn’t have furniture in it.

“I hated you at the beginning because you were hurting Hoseokie hyung, but now I don’t ever want you to ever leave,” he said all this with his sweet smile and didn’t even give you time to ponder on what he had said when he was asking, “Truth or dare?”

With a confused face, you hesitantly answered dare and began regretting it almost instantly, as he pulled out his phone, and gave it to Taehyung.

“I dare you to keep up with me dancing to Fake Love, if you manage, I’ll give you whatever you want,” Jimin told you, eyes filled with mischief and feet already moving of their own accord. Your jaw could have practically touched the floor.

“Are you… I haven’t danced in years, HOW DO YOU EVEN THINK I COULD KEEP UP WITH YOU?!” You accused, hearing disbelieving laughs behind you, “You just want me to make a fool of myself,” crossing your arms over your chest and stomping your foot, you were the picture-perfect image of a petulant child.

“You don’t fool me, I have been watching you while we practised, you know our choreos, you couldn’t keep yourself still and the movements that got away from you were precise and on the beat. You can do this, I just want to see if you have the courage,” he mocked you, arms cross in imitation of your silly pose and haughtiness rolling off of him in waves. Hoseok was looking between the both of you, looking oddly offended and pensive.

Now, pride wounded, you weren’t thinking in how seven professional idols were looking at you and analysing your every move, you just wanted to wipe the silly smile off his face. Signalling for Taehyung to start the song, Jimin asked whose part you wanted to dance. With a hoarse Hobi’s you tried to warm up your muscles at record speed, with your luck, the best end of the night would be you breaking a leg.

Before the music started playing, Taehyung telling you he’d give you a cue so you weren’t caught off guard with the sudden start, you closed your eyes. Among your anxiousness, you felt, strong and latent, how pride was slowly filling you, from the tip of your toes reaching up until there wasn’t a single part of your body that didn’t feel the emotion. Reassured and certain that Hoseok was still there, Taehyung gave you the cue and the music started.

In the beginning, your muscles screamed at you in outrage after so many months of disuse, outrightly refusing to cooperate. Still, you managed to keep in time with Jimin, his steps so fluent it didn’t even seem difficult for him. The chorus was tricky, you needed to put the energy you didn’t have behind your movements, needed to make it look flawless, one foot in the wrong place and you’d trip. Your breathing became laboured and you focused harder, that special calm that used to envelop you when you danced washing around you and blocking out everything but the music and the constant presence of Hoseok next to your heart.

Your back hurt when you had to crouch down and it still protested a little bit when you were supposed to be fighting with Taehyung and Namjoon while Yoongi rapped, but you pushed through. Now more than halfway through the song, you were aware that your eyes were open but unseeing, you were aware of Jimin waltzing laps around you but you didn’t care. After having to quit dancing because of the pain, you were feeling it again, the rush, the adrenaline. You were feeling the euphoria of it all.

You kneeled on the ground, while Jimin stood behind you, pretending that Taehyung was there, holding him. Then you got up and turned your back to the room, catching your breath, coming down from the high dancing had given you. The last chords of the outro came out of the speakers and you rolled your torso backwards to end up enveloping Jimin in an awkward hug. The song was over.

Breathing hard, and not hearing a single noise in the room, you dared a look around and found six pairs of wide-open eyes focused solely on you. Turning your head a bit to the right gave you a glimpse of a proudly smiling Jimin nodding at you.

“Was I that bad?” You asked, and six sets of jaws dropped to the tablecloth.

Tag list: @obsessoverthesmallthings247 @threedecadesofawkward@mabel-k3 @tremendousminyoongi @justignoremepleaz @demonic-meatball @hadaises @littlestsweetpea28 @rjsmochii @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @gali-005 @salty-for-suga @indicisive-af @nomimits7@lysjeon @raisatarannum1234 @purplelady85@threedecadesofawkward @valentynxmgc @acopenhagenarmy@ephyra1230 @minluvly @trashandshook @brinascorpio@trixiethebear @hobi-love @geekgirl41402 @annywaa @mirajanefairytailmage

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

Text

hate ~ g eazy

word count: 1612

request?: yes!

“Can you do a G-Eazy story that has complete and total hate sex like they don’t say that they have feelings for each other”

description: in which they have a love-hate relationship, but keep denying their true feelings for one another

pairing: g eazy x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut, angst

masterlist

Her legs were wrapped around his waist as he roughly thrusted in her. Her nails dug into his back and she was sure that they would’ve been leaving marks if it wasn’t for the leather jacket he was wearing.

She had her head buried in his shoulder to muffle her whimpers and moans. The last thing either of them needed was for someone to hear and to leak to the press that G-Eazy was fucking some girl in the dressing room of a talk show.

A knock on the door startled both of them. Gerald covered her mouth as he continued to thrust into her, calling out, “Yeah?”

“You’re on in five, G!” came the voice of his manager.

“Yeah, give me a minute man!”

“Make it a quick minute.”

Gerald rolled his eyes as his thrusts became rougher, the sound of skin slapping against skin becoming louder. He pressed his hand against (Y/N)’s mouth to keep her growing moans silent. He bit his lip to hold back any noises he’d make as he felt himself hitting his climax. (Y/N)’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she rode out her own shortly after.

Gerald carefully put (Y/N) down before grabbing his pants and quickly pulling them up. (Y/N) grabbed her discarded pants and panties from the floor and pulled them on.

“Could’ve done it in a minute without being so fast and so rough,” she muttered as she checked her makeup in the vanity mirror.

“Fuck you,” Gerald muttered as he swung open the door.

She smirked over her shoulder. “You already did.”

Gerald rolled his eyes and continued to the talk show set. (Y/N) shook her head and used a nearby tissue to wipe off her already smudged lipstick.

She wasn’t quite sure why she and Gerald were this way. They had been friends once, or at least close to being friends. Then suddenly...they just weren’t. They had a complicated love-hate relationship - they didn’t exactly like one another, but they also didn’t want to stop being friends.

Then, just to make things more complicated, they started having sex. (Y/N) was also unsure when that happened, but she remembered roughly what had happened: they had a fight. Some harsh things were said, harsher than they had ever said before, and suddenly Gerald’s lips were on hers. The next thing she knew, she was collecting her clothes off of his bedroom floor.

It was supposed to be a one time thing, they had both agreed that it would never happen again. And then came another fight, and thus another hook up. Then they decided that this somewhat friends with benefits situation just might be a good thing for the both of them, even if they still despised one another.

Once her makeup was fixed, (Y/N) followed the rest of the crew towards the main stage of the talk show. They had already begun the interview when I arrived, so I tried to stay as quiet as possible.

“I’ve just had a lot of inspiration lately,” Gerald was saying. “Like, every waking minute I’ve been writing or recording, and before I knew it I had enough for an album. I have enough for almost two albums, but I’ll save the other songs for that.”

“Would one of your inspirations happen to be a girl?” the host asked.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at this. Inside, she felt the familiar pang of jealousy at the thought of Gerald with another woman, although she wasn’t sure why she felt so jealous. She didn’t have feelings for Gerald, she knew she didn’t...right?

Gerald laughed and shook his head. “Not at all. I’ve been single for a while now and I don’t have any intentions on dating.”

The interviewer gave him a look. “Are you sure about that? Cause a picture recently surfaced of you with an unknown lady at an after party.”

Gerald’s face went pale as the host put the picture up on the screen for the audience to see. (Y/N) covered her mouth as she felt her stomach lurch with shock and slight anger.

The picture was of the two of them leaving a club the night before. Both were super drunk and had been all over each other inside the club the whole night. Moments before the picture was taken, Gerald had been grinding against (Y/N) and whispering dirty thoughts in her ear. She had taken hold of his hand and dragged him out of the club. While they waited for a taxi, she couldn’t stop herself from kissing Gerald, right there out in the open.

Gerald was unsure what to say. He wasn’t prepared for this. How was he going to explain the situation between him and (Y/N)?

“That’s no one,” he blurted before he could stop himself. “Just some chick I met is all. We got a little hot and heavy and I took her back to my hotel room. Not exactly the type of shit I want to be made public, but I guess you can’t help it when you’re famous.”

Tears welled up in (Y/N)’s eyes at Gerald’s words. She wondered if that’s all he thought of her; not even as an enemy, but just as an easy fuck.

Before she could stop herself, (Y/N) turned and raced out of the studio. Luckily, no one had been paying her any mind anyways, so she didn’t cause too much of a fuss. She raced directly to the bathroom and shoved the door open. She didn’t have time to get to the privacy of a stall before she broke down into tears.

The truth was, (Y/N) did feel something for Gerald. She hadn’t realized it at first, she had only seen him as a friend. When he started being rude towards her, her opinion changed and they became somewhat frenemies, but she soon realized that her feelings had never been entirely friendly. She had felt something for Gerald, something he obviously didn’t feel back, and that just made her more frustrated with the way he treated her.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been there, but when she heard footsteps approaching (Y/N) quickly turned on the sink and splashed cold water on her face. She was wiping it with a paper towel when Gerald shoved the door open, a look of concern on his face.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” she pointed out, refusing to look at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, ignoring her comment.

“I’m fine,” she responded. “Get out before you get in trouble.”

Gerald took hold of her chin and forced her to look up at him. She batted his hand away and backed up. “Fuck off, G.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N), are you okay?” he asked.

“Why do you give a fuck? I’m no one, remember? Just an easy fuck you met at a club.”

Gerald rolled his eyes. “You know I didn’t mean that, (Y/N). I was just trying to get their attention away from us. The situation we’re in is not an easy one to describe, it’s just easier to lie.”

“How do I know you didn’t mean it?” (Y/N) asked, crossing her arms. “I mean, what the fuck are we doing Gerald? You hate me and yet we fuck like it’s no one’s business. What do you call that, cause it’s sure as hell not a relationship.”

“I don’t hate you,” Gerald insisted.

“You don’t? So, is that why you did a sudden 180 with the way you treated me? Is that why, suddenly, it felt like you couldn’t stand to be around me? You can’t deny that the dynamic between us changed a few years back, and it’s never really recovered.”

Gerald shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then what? What did I do to make this happen?”

“You didn’t do anything! That’s the problem!” Gerald snapped. His sudden change in tone shocked (Y/N) and she even had to take a step back. “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, it’s always been hard to keep my hands off of you. But we were friends, only friends, and I knew you’d never want anything more. The best course of action was to try and push those feelings away, which, admittedly, came off as rude and cold I’m realizing now.”

She was shocked by Gerald’s words. Never once had (Y/N) ever believed that he had feelings for her, even before everything suddenly went downhill with them.

“I had no idea,” she admitted.

“I made sure you wouldn’t,” Gerald responded with a shrug. “I didn’t want to ruin things between us.”

“And then we just ended up having sex anyways,” (Y/N) pointed out, a slight joking tone in her voice.

Gerald couldn’t help but chuckle at this as well. “Yeah, we ended up having sex anyways. Just...hateful sex, and not the good kind.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms and looked down at her feet. “So, what happens now?”

Gerald copied her stance and shrugged. “I guess that’s just up to you. What do you want to happen?”

“I want to work back to where we used to be,” (Y/N) decided. “I want to get back to being friends, and then see where things can go from there.”

Gerald smiled and nodded. “Okay, I think I can do that.”

“You have no choice, cause if you pull this shit again I’ll fucking kill you.”

They laughed together, the first time they had truly laughed as friends in years.

#G Eazy #g eazy imagine #g eazy x reader #gerald gillum #gerald gillum imagine #gerald gillum x reader #request #imagine #one shot

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welcome-to-the-end-of-eras · 3 years

Text

The Mori/Steepleton Family Being Neurodivergent Headcanons Because I Said So: Sensory Issues Addition

-Sensory issues are mega prevalent for them, especially for Six, and both her and Mori keep trying to invent new lil inventions to help combat it

-Mori’s workbench is just fuckin littered in them, some in progress, some completely discarded, and one that caught on fire for reasons they still can’t figure out

-I feel like the two of them would have a lot of touch sensory issues (it’s kind of canon with Six anyway), but Six is much more sensitive to smells and Mori is more sensitive to sound

-There is constantly music playing in the house because Mori can’t stand the little noises of a quiet house, especially having a watch shop with a bunch of ticking watches right there

-This is part of the reason that Thaniel decides to write the Joy Symphony, and it plays constantly when they get an actual record of it

-Six is really bad with strong smells, especially things that smell unfamiliar, so she steals her parent’s clothes all the time and wears them when she’s feeling overwhelmed because it smells like them and that’s what’s familiar to her

-That’s also part of the reason Mori started making/using his lemon soap, so there’s an identifiable scent that becomes familiar to all of them and can kind of be a comfort when they’re overwhelmed

-While they’re probably not as noticeable, Thaniel has his share of sensory issues as well

-He’s one of those people who constantly is like “oh yeah my sensory issues aren’t that bad” but then experiences one (1) bad sensation and he’s miserable for the rest of the day

-He’d definitely be very sensitive to sound especially being synesthetic, but he seems like he would also be sensitive to taste and the texture of foods

-He would spend like a month living off of tea and one specific kind of biscuit because he was forced to eat a bunch of foods with bad textures and tastes at all the foreign office parties

-All of them love the feeling of smooth metals, so Mori makes them a bunch of little brass things all the time and they just walk around with so many of them in their pocket that passerby’s think they’re carrying a bunch of loose change

-Thaniel absolutely loves physical contact when he’s overwhelmed so he just kinda. Clings to Mori while he goes throughout the day.

-Like he’ll just be working in the store and this giant dude who’s at least a foot taller and has like twice the muscle mass than him has somehow managed to wrap himself around him completely, and he doesn’t even bat an eye

-Idk if this counts as sensory but Thaniel and Six would hate feeling “off balance”, so whenever they accidentally stretch one side of their body they have to stretch the other the exact same way

-Mori cannot work in spaces that don’t have things scattered around in an “aesthetically” messy way, hence why his workshop is full of his little fun inventions

-Six has one sweater that’s actually hers from Annabelle that she absolutely loves, but she has to wash it constantly so it keeps the right scent

-This causes her skin to get wicked dry which she also hates, but she can’t stop washing the thing because she just loves the smell of it freshly washed that much

-Grace takes note of how fidgety and anxious she gets when this happens and figures out how to make a moisturiser thing for her to keep her hands from getting dry after coming into contact with the soap and gave it to Six for Christmas. She almost starts crying when it works (also I firmly believe Grace would be kind of an aunt figure for Six after tlfop fight me)

-Thaniel would get into drawing and painting solely because he loves the feeling of having charcoal and paint on his hands

-On the exact opposite end having food/anything sticky on his hands is a massive fuckin no, and he will internally flip his shit if he can’t wash it off immediately

-As much as it’s a cultural show of respect, Mori would go absolutely feral hearing people chew loudly with their mouths open and just generally despise mouth noises in general

-In modern times Mori would be the kind of person to constantly have headphones in (or earbuds, but he’d only really use them in public) and would spend an obscene amount of money on good noise cancelling headphones

-Six likes to pet Owlbert when she gets overwhelmed, so she starts to make jewellery out of feathers he sheds so she can have them on her whenever she needs them

-The other kids at the workhouse made fun of her for getting twitchy when she was overwhelmed and she’s still a bit reluctant to let herself, so she started cracking her knuckles as a socially acceptable way of getting it out and she does it all the time

-It definitely gets on her dads’ nerves but they get why she does it so they don’t really say anything

-Her teachers on the other hand constantly call her on it, and one day her teacher calls her up in front of the class and publicly degrades her for cracking her knuckles and being fidgety all the time

-It takes every once of willpower Thaniel has to not go down there and murder the bastard, he’s absolutely fuckin livid when he finds out, but it works out because the teacher is fired the next week after it “mysteriously” comes out that she was having an affair with the headmaster

-They all do their best to work around everyone’s sensory issues, and it’s definitely difficult, but they wouldn’t have it any other way

#using as many different words as I can for Mori’s shop challenge successful #I didn’t even realise until I read it over for fuck’s sake-#the watchmaker of filigree street #the lost future of pepperharrow #tlfop #twofs #natasha pulley

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themoontaxi · 2 years

Note

Hey congrats on getting 100+ followers! That's very exciting! Thanks for tagging me, this celebration is SO COOL!!! 😁

🥠 check out "Wouldn't Come Back" by Trousdale

🧁 any genre is fine by me!

🍵 Maroon 5

🍦 Paramore and their self-titled album from 2013

🥐 alright I'm intrigued, I'd like a small please! here's my fic (if the link doesn't work lmk, also I don't have spotify so if you make it on YouTube that'd be much appreciated lol)

🍿 Why do we like to hurt so much? (As in why do we like to cause ourselves pain/put ourselves through painful situations?)

help i finally did it! i know you said it’s fine to keep you waiting, but i got pretty upset with myself anyway ngl 😭 thank you again tho, you’re too kind <3

as i said, i’ll come back in a few days with the last two 💛

first of all 🥠:

the song? chefs kiss! damn i’m so glad you introduced me to this gem. it is so soft and melodic, but also honest and poetic! i love their voices!!! ngl i swooned over this on the first listen and instantly added it to my favs :) thanks for showing me! <3

your 🧁 (chose five as an apology for taking so long & aimed for diversity :)):

here’s me pouring some 🍵 over moron 5 (sorry i couldn’t help myself hehe):

disclaimer: i didn’t do any further research on this, just took everything i already gathered on them. so i’m assuming you asked for them bc their discography is all over the place? and i’m probably just repeating things parrot-fashion bc i feel like it’s common knowledge that they sold out and are just jumping on the trend-train nowadays and adam levine’s ego is larger than the everest? but anyway, here are some more thoughts i have on them:

they had so much potential as a band and i hate that they made it into adam levine’s personal show

they are masters of having features who have the most irrelevant lines & are probably just there for the clicks

i despise sugar with a burning passion, and i rarely have hard feelings on annoying songs from the charts

adam’s voice can get so annoying. like yes, he can sing and hit high notes and i like his voice on some songs, but it’s getting on my nerves after some time

i shiver upon hearing some lyrics & they make me uncomfortable. he’s not only hella self centered, toxic, dishonest and narcissistic judging by them, but also calls women his little girl and honestly, no thanks - creeping me out

that said, i usually don’t care about their lyrics at all and only listen for the vibe (the exception is songs about jane)

are they even writing their own lyrics at this point? *skimming the list of co-writers on more recent albums*

fun fact: every time a band puts out a record that feels unoriginal and people-pleasing, i joke with friends about how they might become the next moron 5 (and pray that they don’t)

and now to summarize their albums bc why not:

songs about jane: yes, genuinely like it

it won’t be soon before long: good, but not really my thing

hands all over: i only know misery & moves like jagger and i don’t mind them but don’t listen to them

overexposed & V: jamming along to their singles and having the best time, didn’t listen to the rest

the rest: lmao i didn’t even bother with looking up the names bc i think that perfectly reflects the level of disinterest i have regarding them based on the singles i heard

my favorite tracks, starting from the top:

it was always you, harder to breathe, one more night, better that we break, daylight, lucky strike, sunday morning, won’t go home without you, the sun, tangled, maps

and last but definitely not least, the 🍦:

okay sorry in advance but i have to start with some caps. WHY THE HELL DID I NEVER LISTEN TO THIS MASTERPIECE IN IT’S ENTIRETY??? i’m so upset with myself for missing out. yes, i knew all the singles and i love every single one of them BUT MY STUPID BRAIN THOUGHT FOR SOME REASON THAT THIS IS THEIR WEAKEST ALBUM. yes, please hit me i deserve it. i literally know all their other albums by heart and i’ve been a fan for years. i still own the fan merch shirt even tho i grew out of it like four years ago and i named them as one of three bands i’d hit up were i to organize a festival in a job interview three years ago lmao. i’m literally THE WORST (fan). i don’t even know how to express all my thoughts and love for this… i’m not quoting any fav lyrics bc i wouldn’t know where to start haha and i don’t have to mention how much i love everything about this band - their creativity, friendship, performances, aesthetic and (most importantly) the comfort they gave me over all these years. i’m so grateful for their music 💛 and idk what else to say, but i thought doing a ranking would be fun, even tho it’s fucking hard to decide bc they have soooo many god tier songs. but anyway, here i am ranking them after thinking briefly about it, so basically without any deep analysis:

their self titled album:

proof ~ now ~ anklebiters ~ still into you ~ hate to see your heart break ~ daydreaming ~ native tongue ~ last hope ~ grow up ~ ain’t it fun~ be alone ~ tell me it’s okay ~ interlude: i’m not angry anymore ~ interlude: holiday ~ interlude: moving on ~ part II ~ (one of those) crazy girls ~ escape route ~ future ~ fast in my car

other favs in no special order (except from old to new lol):

crushcrushcrush, when it rains, we are broken, for a pessimist i’m pretty optimistic, careful, ignorance, brick by boring brick, misguided ghosts, decode, hard times, 26, pool, grudges, forgiveness, tell me how

thank you again for making me listen to some great tunes, it brightened my day(s) <3 hope you enjoy! lemme know what you thought and (if you want) whether you agree or disagree on any of this :)

#judy ☀️#wow that was a lot #haha loved it <3 #coming back with the rest #now i have to catch some sleep tho 💀#fortune cookie 🥠#compliment cupcake 🧁#spilling some tea 🍵#soft ice cream de la creme 🍦#café lounge #music

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bellamyblake · 4 years

Text

Headcanons for Bellarke working together late at night on camp stuff and being absolute IDIOTS towards each other:

they usually end up in one of the offices attached to the main room where the council meetings happen, together, late at night, after most of the camp has had dinner and went quiet;

they love working side by side, even if sometimes they spent hours going over maps and documents, discussing things, feelings their heads grow heavy, racking their brains at how they’ll push this through Kane and her mom or wondering how, how on earth can they make it easier for their kids, for their hundred;

or whatever’s left of them anyway;

as much as Bellamy loves those nights, he also absolutely despises what they do to Clarke; she tends to spent over 20 hours without any rest and the dark circles surrounding her eyes honestly scare the hell out of him;

he’s not much better off, having done at least one if not two guard shifts but somehow he doesn’t see that as much of a burden as her working in medbay saving people or fighting over with the council for the camp buildings or the living conditions and the jobs given out at the kids;

their kids;

when he asks her if it’s time she head to bed late on a similar cold winter night with her hunched over the maps on the metal table and him going over reports she responds with a curt, stubborn, very Clarke-like;

”I’ll sleep.”

“When?” he crosses his arms over his chest, daring her.

“When I get this done.” she doesn’t even look at him instead uses the pencil to outline another thing on the map;

another project for a tomato garden or a medbay building or a cabin to smoke the meat for that he knows, he just knows he’ll cut the trees for, chop them and prepare;

she was the brain, he was the hands; he was the hard work; that’s all he was ever good for anyway;

and it brings him a sense of peace too-the splinters in his hands, the cuts, bruises, his sore muscles, his bad knee aching at night, dragging him in all his glory-maybe he was a masochist but he enjoyed it, found it made his nights quieter, kept the demons at bay;

“You’ll never get it done that’s why we have council meetings.” he huffs even more annoyed.

“They’re too loud and frustrating,”

“Clarke-”

“Bellamy?” she looks up briefly and gives him a once over “Don’t play so innocent, you haven’t slept either.”

“That’s different.”

“How? Please tell me how it’s different?” she’s angry now, that angry you got when you were so tired that anything could piss you off.

Good thing he liked pushing her buttons especially when it came to her own damn health.

“It’s different because I never slept much. On the Ark I was awake most of the night, I’m used to just a few hours, my body can handle it.” she softens at that, knows just what he means beyond the surface and imagines him-just a boy, a child really, waking every time there was even the slightest of noises to be heard in Factory, or when his baby sister cried or when he had to feed her cause his mom was at work, or when-

God so many possibilities, so many times.

He never truly got peace.

She sees the cracks in his armous and wants to kiss him.

And then slap him.

But mostly kiss him.

So she turns her head away and waves her hand “Give me an hour.”

“I’m clocking it, princess!” he warns but grabs another folder from the table before going back to the old raggedy couch and resting on it and every now and then he’d snort like a horse at her angry paper slapping.

he knows her so damn well-she’s angry but her brain is so busy, she’s not even registering it so he goes out and comes back without she so much as lift her head in the meantime but when he brings in a plate full of stew and boiled potatoes with rosemary as well as some hot milk and chocolate she hears her stomach grown loudly-

which of course only makes the idiot smile in satisfaction.

he brings her the salt they kept in the cupboard with the coffee, sugar and tea that they used for late night evenings like this one and because he knows she loves to put too much on everything he expertly stops her by blocking her way with his palm while her eyes are pinned on a recent guard report.

She pouts, of course she does, and with her eyes she says “Just a little more.” he huffs, pulls his hand away but stops her again by snapping it out of her hand before the entire meal turned white.

“It’s bad for the eyes, you know.”

“Says mister “I have to squint to see in the near distance.” he hobbles back to the couch and falls on it dramatically.

“For the record, Miss medic, it’s also bad for the heart.”

“Says the guy with the high blood pressure!” she cuts him off and he rolls his eyes at her. It was true.

Last year every Arkadia citizent was subjected to the mandatory yearly check ups which she was helping her mom and Jackson with as they didn’t have enough nurses or doctors in training yet.

She had taken it lightly then, made fun of him because she knew how much he hated being in medbay, the idiot even hid when he was hurt sometimes and she had to hunt him down and force him to sit still while she patched him up, so she thought she’d just use this as a way to make fun of his weird dislike of doctors.

Instead when her mom listened to his heart furrowing her eyebrows at what she was hearing and then she took his blood pressure and saw how high it was, it had brought her back to the ground so fast, she felt like someone punched her in the gut.

he played it off as cool and her mom promised it’s not too serious yet, probably something genetic, running from his mom’s side according to old records but she spent the next two weeks monitoring his every move until he called her off;

she still worried; still listened closely to his heart whenever he hugged her and begged it quietly, in her mind,to keep still, to slow down, to let him live till he was ninety;

“Maybe you’re putting too much salt in your food?” she suggests trying to get rid of her cloudy thoughts;

He throws a pillow at her and she chuckles’

But all she does in return is stick her tongue out at him and wolf down her food “God for an alpha princess you eat like a pig”

“Don't make me throw a hot potato at you”

“You wouldn't!”/ Don't test me!”/ “Just eat, Clarke”/ “I would if you shut up”

“Asshole”

“Animal”

“Old man”

“Workaholic”

“Insomniac”

“Oh my god, ARE YOU REALLY THROWING THAT AT ME!”

“YEP”she says with a smirk “Now quiet I gotra focus!” He curses under his nose and leans back.

He thinks she doesn't pay any attention to him but in fact she does, she always did. So now she peaks under her maps and finds him stretching his legs and taking off his boots, rubbing the knee he broke last winter that must be getting sore with the cold weather and then leaning back and closing his eyes.

he dozes off first, in fact he falls on the couch in a half-slumped, half-sitting way that she knows can’t be comfortable, his mouth hangs open, he drools like a child and then he snores, not too loudly, softly, like he knows he can’t bother the world with himself or his rest and his hair that’s had a rebel strike of her own falls over his forehead.

she puts down her maps and documents and leans on the chair, tilting her head, staring at him with love and adoration;

she can’t help herself but she gives herself a moment to just take him in like that-soft and at peace and then her heart bursts, she can’t command it to still, to stop-

she stands up and carefully like oh-so-many nights before, she walks over there, takes his face in her hands, rubs her thumb under his dark circles, lean over and kisses his forehead;

he groans just a little as she pushes him down but his arm falls wide open for her to fit in to his side; when she leans her head over his heart and listens to his fast thrump thrump thrump she rubs her hand over his chest and tries to sooth it;

“Take it easy” she mumbles “I need him here.”

she doesn’t register when she falls asleep, she just knows she’s warm and that’s the best feeling in the world.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #the 100 #fluff #post season 2 #cute idiots bellarke #i haven't posted a headcanon in forever #i just thought of this today #and expanded it #headcanons #my writing

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Do you think Ruby will kill Grimm!Summer and if so, how do you think that will clash with her objection to killing Penny?

I think it's all going to hinge on a) how the story portrays Ruby reacting to Jaune in Volume 9 and b) what sort of shape grimm!Summer is in.

First, they may not have Ruby kill Summer at all. And I don't just mean that the plot will twist to ensure someone else has to (somehow, without silver eyes) do the deed because she's unavailable, thereby freeing her of that hard choice — precisely like how Ruby was conveniently in the void by the time Penny needed to die. Rather, Summer might still be able to be saved. Many (myself included) have theorized that if Ruby's eyes destroy grimm and grimm only, she might be able to destroy the portion of a grimm that possess a person (for lack of a better word), leaving the rest of them intact. That's mostly come up in Salem discussions — could Ruby remove the influence of the grimm pool, leaving human!Salem behind? — but now that same question applies to Summer too. When she used her eyes on the Hound we saw the grimm part of him get stripped away, revealing the faunus underneath, before the goo of the grimm started Venom-creeping back over the rest of him. If Ruby could give off a more powerful blast, perhaps she could erase the grimm portion entirely, all in one go, sort of akin to how they won the geist fight in Volume 4. Hit it harder, all at once, until after a single blow only the core of the beast remains. In each case the grimm would leave the thing it possessed.

So that's Option B: is Summer in a state where it's possible for her to recover in some way? How deep do these grimm experiments go, are silver eyes capable of destroying the grimm without killing the person? How much of the original Summer would be left without the grimm parts? etc. etc. Lots of questions we don't have any answers to. Option A, however, comes up if we're given a scenario where Summer is beyond hope. She's a grimm now, no way to fix it, killing her is seen as a mercy. And that, I think, is the crucial difference. Ruby unequivocally said no to killing Penny... but Penny also wasn't presented as having to die. It's one of the rare moments in the volume where I 100% agree with what Ruby is saying. Penny has been hacked, her order is to open the vault, and then she's set to self-destruct. So how does killing her benefit anyone in anyway? They obviously want to save Penny, so all killing her at the manor would do is hurry the self-destruct along, the thing they want to stop. They want to keep the Maiden powers safe, but killing her might risk sending them off into the world, lost, or even wind up with Cinder if her attempts to steal them formed any connection. Obviously we know now that the powers didn't go to Cinder, that Penny was able to think of Winter and send them to her, but my point is that just killing her then is a HUGE risk. Finally, there's no real danger in opening the vault. I mean yeah, they don't want Ironwood to get the staff... but like, he just wants to leave. If Ironwood were planning to use the staff to, idk, decimate all of Atlas I can understand the group considering killing Penny to be worth avoiding the potential death of an entire kingdom, but there's no threat to anyone if Ironwood does somehow snag the relic. The only threat here is that opening the vault will allow Salem to get the relic instead, but the group decides to open the vault anyway. Penny is basically going, "If you don't kill me now then I'll open the vault, which will lead to Ironwood escaping Salem with a large portion of the kingdom and standing down from his bomb threat, and then I'll die!" So you want them to kill you to avoid... other people not dying? And you want to die so you don't... die?

It's absolute nonsense.

This is basically a long-winded way of saying that killing Penny in that moment wouldn't benefit the good guys in any way, shape, or form. The fact that Penny suggests it at all is monumentally stupid. It's a Deep, Dramatic Moment that makes absolutely no sense. "You have to kill me!" she cries... even though killing her does nothing good, likely does a whole lot of bad, and absolutely does a Big Bad by hurrying along one of the major things everyone is trying to prevent: Penny's death.

Of course Ruby said no. That's the smartest Ruby is in the whole volume.

But when Jaune is faced with the question? Well, it's meant to be a very different context. I've gone on the record multiple times as saying that the show did a HORRIBLE job of justifying the need to kill Penny, but I also recognize that we're supposed to believe that was the best option on the table. Unlike at the manor, Penny's death does achieves something here: giving her the ability keep the powers safe. It's also presented as inevitable: Penny will (supposedly) die regardless, so better that she die when she chooses, preventing Cinder from getting more power, then dying in a few minutes with more risks attached. The manor death had nothing going for it. The finale death — no matter how badly executed — is meant to be justified to some extent, whether we personally agree it or not. We're still meant to realize, "Yeah, Penny is dying, no way to avoid it, so killing her will at least help keep the power out of Cinder's hands and will give her some agency over the time she has left." It's still stupid, but it's a "You wrote this scene really badly" stupid rather than a "This entire concept is nonsensical" stupid.

So Ruby has never actually been in Jaune's position. For all her insistence that she won't let anyone die, Ruby has never actually been in a scenario where killing someone would do the most good for the world, or would put someone out of their misery, or would give them some agency over their own existence — all the things that Penny's death is (again) supposed to represent. We don't know what she'd choose if death was inevitable and she was faced with providing a "kinder" death, or what she'd choose if a death was, from a practical perspective, presented as the best way forward. That's because right now the story is horribly written and Ruby isn't forced to choose anything, but if they actually brought her back to her Volume 1-5 self, I can easily see her killing her mother as an act of kindness. Summer was turned into a monster by Salem. The very thing she's spent her whole life trying to eradicate. There is no possible, other way to help her. She is a danger to Ruby and all of her friends. Perhaps, if a part of her is still lucid, she expresses that she doesn't want to continue living like this, being the thing she despises, being Salem's tool, being a danger to her daughter. So Ruby kills her as an act of mercy and love. It's presented as a release from a nightmare existence.

But that potential, future characterization depends on whether Ruby understands the choice Jaune made. Again (again, again, again) I think the story did a terrible job writing that scene and that it didn't succeed in justifying the kill, but for the purposes of what I think the story was trying to do, Ruby may well parrot all that back in Volume 9: "Yes, Jaune. Penny was dying and there was no way to save her even though your semblance is healing. There was nothing else you could have done even though you might have gotten her through the portal and saved here there. Killing her then kept the powers safe messy lore aside. You did the right thing, horrible as it was." And that acts as setup for Ruby doing the same thing for Summer later on. Either that, or she's initially furious at Jaune and comes to realize — after some messy and contradictory character arc — that he did the right thing all along and she was just too grief-stricken to realize it. Which I will hate if we get that given how badly it'll all end up lol.

So those are the two theories I'm leaning towards. Either the story, in the fashion of Volume 8, will ensure that Ruby never has to make the hard choice of whether to kill her mom or not (oh god I'm imagining a scene where Yang offers to do it instead as some act of sisterly devotion/a sacrifice so the "pure" sister remains pure no no no no), or Summer's situation is (no doubt just as badly) presented like Penny's second request for death, as a necessary act that Summer wants, will assist the heroes in some way, and is definitely the Best and Only Thing To Do.

Of course, Option C is that this is... just never resolved. It definitely speaks to my lack of faith in RWBY atm, but given how many important things we've dropped I would not be surprised if Summer is never actively introduced into the series again. RWBY may well treat this as the answer to a mystery that never existed until said "answer" arrived, the writers viewing this merely as the explanation of what happened to Summer and nothing more. Don't get me wrong, viewers are 100% right to expect more in the future. This change raises even more questions than were already attached to Summer's disappearance and the existence of the Hound absolutely implies that, in a well written story, grimm!Summer will appear somewhere down the line. But, to be blunt, RWBY is not a well written story. So if some number of years from now we look back and go, "Wow, the answer to how they'll handle this is that they... didn't. This was never brought up in a meaningful way again" I really wouldn't be surprised.

#rwby #mymetas

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ziracona · 3 years

Text

[The Kid (Fgo AU fic) pt. 1, ... 7, 8, 9, ?]

He was completely alone.

That was the first thing I thought when I saw his face for an instant through an open doorway: that I had never ever seen anyone who looked so completely alone.

I’ve been alone; I’ve been lonely. Not too bad, not most of my life anyway. My brother and I are close, and we’ve spent a lot of time together. For most of my life, it’s been like having a built-in best friend. But. We’re different from each other too.

Sometimes he’s interested in something I’m not, or doing stuff for school or a sport, or I am, and we don’t see each other so much. There have been times when we fought, or he didn’t want to hang around so much with his sister, or I didn’t, and we were further apart. Then there have been times where we were in different places—different schools, different programs. That’s most recently, and it’s been really hard. We still see each other a lot, because we try to, but having a twin was like having a part of me almost—a best friend I saw every single day. High school, I was lonely a lot. I had a hard time making friends, and got teased a lot—I mean, I wasn’t like, really unfortunate—I-I had friends. Sort of, anyway—I wasn’t an outcast. But I was lonely.

I’ve been lonely a lot, and for a whole lot of reasons, no matter how hard I try to find people, or be able to see the ones I have.

But never anything like that.

Being lonely, it’s one of the worst feelings in the world, I think. One of the worst ones I’ve ever felt. But I knew, looking at him, that he was experiencing it in a way I couldn’t even imagine feeling alone.

I wasn’t sure how old he was. Maybe 19, or 20, 21, 22. Older than me, but not old. Short, small. On his knees, hanging limply from his arms, head bowed, and eyes only half open. He was sweating, and there was blood running down his shirt and vest. He looked like he was dying, and everyone was just walking past and looking at him like he was an art piece.

I’d never seen people look at another person like that before.

He knew it, though. I saw him move his eyes to follow them when they moved through the room, even turn his head up once or twice to see them a little, then give up again. He looked so weak, and beaten, and hurt. Nobody cared, though. I knew they were talking about him, but it was like watching people look at a new car they might buy at a street event. I couldn’t understand it.

The boy wasn’t Japanese. I thought he was maybe American, o-or maybe European—I wasn’t sure. He was dressed a little bit like a cowboy, though, and he was blonde with blue eyes that looked cloudy, like a haze had lowered over what used to be a big open sky. It made me think American. I hadn’t ever seen an American in person before—only in movies. It made him look even more alone. Surrounded by a room full of people who were speaking my language and looked like me, and not him. It made me feel worse somehow, even than I would have felt anyway, seeing anyone like that.

I don’t think I’d ever seen somebody look hopeless before. But. He looked like he knew he was going to suffer, and suffer, and slowly die. And nobody was coming to save him, and he wasn’t going to be able to save himself this time. He looked like he hated it, but he knew it. He looked afraid. And sad.

And alone.

Alone in ways I couldn’t describe then and still couldn’t now, even after being able to think of almost nothing else for a whole week and a half.

He looked up at me, for just a moment, while I was watching him through that doorway. I had seen the way he looked at the other people in the room—like he despised them, and I knew I would have felt the same if I was hanging there on my knees, bleeding and being talked about like a car. I had no idea who he was, or what he was, or why he was there, not at all, but I was scared, when he looked at me, that he had seen me. I was scared he would look at me like he’d looked at everyone else, because somehow that would have made me responsible, like they were, for what was being done to him.

He didn’t, though.

He looked at me, and he was a little bit surprised, like I was a strange thing to see, and then he’d almost looked happy for a moment. Maybe not happy. … Appreciative. Instead of hating me, for some reason he had looked at me like he was a little bit glad he’d seen me. I had no idea why. But I couldn’t forget it. I watched him lower his head again, slowly, and pass out. I watched him to see if he would wake up. And I asked about him, as soon as I got a chance.

I think I knew as soon as I saw him that I was going to do something. But I knew when he looked at me how much I wanted to.

And I did.

I…I still can’t really get over that part. It’s been so much, just the last few hours. Honestly I was terrified planning all this, and now that it’s happened, I’m just kind of in shock. I’m excited too, but I have no idea what I’m doing.

It’ll be okay, I promise myself, coming back out of my head a little and trying hard to feel more confident, I mean, it’s gone really well so far!

That’s true, and I do feel a little better.

Man, I’ve been super lucky. That’s really good, because now that I think about it all the way, I was kind of counting on luck a lot.

I mean, my plan was good—I think anyway. I worked really hard on it. But still. Billy contracted with me, and I did okay getting him here and patching him up, and I was actually able to summon a heroic spirit with his help, and he’s been a really nice one too! I was a little bit afraid I might get hurt. I mean, Billy’s been stuck in that building for months, with so many people hurting him, it really wouldn’t be surprising if he’d woken up and just assumed I was one of them, and shot me before realizing I wasn’t. I tried to dress in definitely civilian clothes in case that would help, but I was still nervous about it. I’m really glad things went so okay…

Mind still on Billy, I glance over at him. I’m sitting on the bed, getting ready to try some magic work to open up circuits with Emiya’s help, but he’s vanished to go make sure no one seems to have followed us from Ur-shanabi first. Billy’s sitting back in one of the big comfortable soft chairs, resting. He’s not asleep, though. Just kind of staring off at nothing, thinking about something.

His wound must be hurting a little less, for him to sit up like that, and I smile at the sight. I’m so glad he looks better. I felt really awful I couldn’t heal him right, but at least I was able to do something. And he really does look a lot better now. He’s got more color in his skin, and his hair is starting to dry and look fluffy now. His eyes look clear too, but they’ve looked like that for a while now. Bright and sharp, but kind too. Open like a clear sky. He’s really pretty. I guess he picked a good nickname for himself.

He senses me looking at him and glances over and offers me a smile, and I return it.

“You feelin’ ready?” he asks.

I nod. “I think so. I’m really glad Emiya seems to know his stuff so well.”

“Me too!” agrees Billy, “He seems awful capable, and that’s gonna help us a lot.” He pauses then and looks thoughtful. “Got absolutely no clue who he is though. You know any historical Emiyas? Famous figures?”

Oh yeah. I guess that is weird. I mean, there’s a lot of heroic spirits on the throne, and of course I wouldn’t know all of them, but it is a little weird neither of us has ever heard of him. I shake my head. “Maybe he’s a really old heroic spirit,” I suggest, because that makes sense, “One from so long ago, we lost a lot of records.”

Billy gives a nod of agreement, “Probably that, or one you haven’t got to in time yet.”

“Wait, you guys can come from the future??” I ask, totally thrown out of my headspace by that.

“Sure,” says Billy with a grin, “Throne is outside of time, so we get summoned to all kinds of times and places. Mages tend to shoot for spirits they know of, when they summon us, and of course you can’t have a catalyst for someone from the future—won’t exist yet—and I think Alaya doesn’t like sendin’ ones from the future as much because of timestream things I don’t really understand, so, summoning one you haven’t got to in time is a lot rarer, but I know it can happen.”

“Huh.” I think about that. “W-would it be rude, like—among heroic spirits, is it considered rude if I ask him something about that—if he’s from the future?”

Billy shrugs. “Not really. Lots of us won’t answer if we don’t want to and don’t have to, but I don’t think he’d take any offense. Don’t see why he would.”

Huh.

“…’Alaya’?” I ask, remembering what he said before.

“That’s just another name for the whole Counter-Force, World, God—whatever you want to call it,” says Billy, gesturing vaguely with his right hand and then wincing and sucking in a pained breath on the last word.

“Sorry,” I say, reaching out impulsively like I might be able to help, “Does it hurt?”

“Not a lot,” he promises, “It’s a lot better than it was, and it keeps gettin’ better. I just need to learn to be careful until it’s done healin’, like I should.”

I relax a little. “Okay. Good—I mean, that it’s healing.”

He gives me another smile.

I sense energy in the room then, and realize it’s my connection to Emiya, and then he materializes back from his spirit form and into his physical one by the bed.

“Anything?” asks Billy, sitting up a little.

Emiya gives his head a single shake. “She did well covering her tracks,” he says, glancing at me approvingly, “And more importantly, I think bombing their second story took them completely by surprise. There’s a whole lot going on at the building I was able to see even at a distance, but they haven’t sent people out very far to investigate. They’re still mostly trying to make sure they’re not under attack.”

That’s such a huge relief—I’ve been so worried about my mom and dad. I feel like a car has been lifted off my shoulders.

I did it. I…I actually did a good job.

“So,” says Emiya then, turning to look at me, “That being the case, and this spot being safe for at least a little while longer and time being of the essence, I suggest you and I go ahead and get started.”

“Alright, just take a deep breath. Keep your eyes shut, and try to relax. Then I want you to concentrate hard on what you’re feeling.”

“Okay.”

I try my best to. Take a big breath and loosen my shoulders, working very hard to keep calm and open. Try to focus on the sound of my own heart beating like he told me. Emiya said to do this I have to ‘feel how my body connects to my soul’, and I don’t know at all how that works, but I try hard to imagine it.

Soul. That’s me, that’s the me inside my body. If I think of myself like a heroic spirit, then bodies are a vessel, and the soul is the thing inside them that has a personality. My soul could be put into a doll, or another body, or a really sick mecha using magecraft, and it would still be me. Because I’m the soul. It exists here, just like they do, but it also exists somewhere else at the same time—like they do on the throne—somewhere I’m always connected to. By energy, the way they’re connected to me right now.

That all makes a lot of sense when I think of it that way, and it helps. I picture that. picture threads connecting the me inside my body to the rest of me somewhere else.

“Good,” says Emiya. His voice is reassuring and strong, and I feel my adrenaline pick up with excitement. I hope that means I’m doing it right! If I’m honest I’m super scared that I’m gonna mess up and I have been since the second I realized I was going to have to do any magic. I-I just. I’ve never been good at being a mage. Maybe it’s just because I never got real training, like they seem to think, but… I’ve known a lot of mages, or, I’ve run into them, and they have all pretty much told me I’m a loser, and a bad mage, and un-gifted, and just don’t have any talent. I don’t want to believe that—I don’t, but,…it’s not like I haven’t spent a lot of time trying to teach myself on my own! I have, over and over and over—reading books, doing research, watching other mages when I got the chance, and I just…it’s like—like I’m trying to ride a bike. And supposedly I could learn, if I just try long and hard enough, but every time I try, I keep falling off the bike the moment I get on, and then climbing back up with bruised knees, only to fall off before I can even turn the pedal again. And again and again and again. I’ve tried so hard for so long, the best I know how, and I’ve barely been able to learn anything.

And now? Now that I’ve got so much these two spirits who trusted me need me for? And they’re watching me? TWO Heroic Spirits, famous heroes with all kinds of power and skill who were so important they got inscribed on the throne of heroes, are watching me?

I am…beyond terrified I’m gonna fail absolutely and make an idiot of myself under the pressure. And worse that I just…won’t be able to help them. That I’ll be too weak, and too bad at things, and I’ll disappoint them. Fail them…

It isn’t fair—I’m trying so hard! And I want to do something really good, and it barely takes any skill to do this! If I was anybody else, I would be able to do it! But I’m not; I’m me, and I’m bad at magic, and—and. No, I can’t give up—I have to do this, I have to. I’ve only just met these two and both of them trusted me enough to form a contract, and there’s so much at stake--I can’t afford to mess up this time. I can’t! So I have to do better, I have to be better, because if I can’t figure this out, if I fail them then-

“I said relax,” chides Emiya.

Crap.

“S-sorry,” I say nervously, cracking an eye open for a second to see him, and then shutting it again. I clear my throat and try to re-center. Just breathe. It’s okay. You can do this. Stop freaking out. You know that doesn’t help. You’re not bad at everything. I mean, you made a really good bomb! You did. And you stitched up a wound pretty good, and you did a summon! So maybe you can do this. Emiya’s going to help you, so it’ll be okay. It’ll work.

I hope.

“Better,” comes Emiya’s voice approvingly, “Now, I’m going to run some of my energy along the magic circuits that you have physically—try to focus on that—the layout, how they feel in your body. They aren’t your true circuits, just a manifestation of them, but they’ll help you find the ones in your soul’s energy. Try and visualize it if you can, and follow the connection back to your soul.”

That’s so much I don’t know how to do, or even really understand. I’m being asked to something that’s really overwhelming, but I buckle down and focus hard as I feel his palm set down on my shoulder and try my hardest, and I feel a little ripple of energy. It’s like a gentle wave lapping over your foot at a lakeside, the way it feels to me, only it runs along my body from my shoulder out to my fingertips. And—and I feel it. A little geometric pattern in my arms and legs and back and stomach, my shoulders, my chest, my head. Like I can feel my nervous system, but a little different. I think it’s working! I’m so excited I totally forget to even think about following it back until I realize he’s about to stop, and I hurry, find the circuits in my chest, because to me it seems like that should be my core, by my heart, right? And I follow them in my head, visualizing what I’m trying to do. I think about the invisible connection I have to myself, just like the ones I have to Billy and Emiya now.

It’s…hard to imagine, but. There’s something. I don’t even really know how to describe it, but I hang onto it, and I feel suddenly like I’m somewhere else: a sky. But I’m not. I am, and I’m not. I’m looking down at myself and everything around and below me, and it’s so big and blue, and calm—wonderous. I feel like I’m looking down at earth from above, but space isn’t big and empty and black—it’s cool and alive and welcoming. And then suddenly that mental image is gone and it’s over and I’m back in my body, and I suck in a breath and open my eyes.

Emiya is watching me from where he’s seated opposite me on the bed, and he looks pleased. “Not bad at all. You felt it?”

“I…I think so,” I say, not totally sure what I saw. I think about it again though, and feel more sure. I think it was. Whatever it was, it was beautiful, and it was something. “Is that…my…is that place my soul?”

He gives me ‘kind of’ sort of gesture and says, “Yes and no. But it is where your magic circuits are, and for practical purposes, yes is a close enough answer. Seeing it should have helped you have a little bit better idea of how your magic is laid out.”

I consider that the best I can, working to remember everything I saw. Yeah. I think so. Okay. Sitting up, I place my hand on my shoulder and try to do what he did, just run a little magic through my body. I try really hard—even move my hand to the exact same spot, but. I can’t.

My heart sinks. I feel my face heat up with shame and disappointment. Why am I so bad at this! It shouldn’t be so hard!

Emiya still has his eyes fixed on me, studying, head a little tilted. I glance over at the chair beside us, at Billy, because I’m very aware he’s seeing me fail this again too. He’s watching, like I expected, but when I look over he gives me a ‘you can do it!’ kind of smile, and I feel a little better because it’s so genuine. I have no idea why he’s got so much faith in my ability to do magic when all I’ve done with him around is fail to heal him 18 times, but I really, really don’t want to disappoint him—either of them. I’ll just have to try again, I decide firmly, Nothing else for it. As many times as it takes, and I’ll get it eventually. I have to, right?

“What am I doing wrong?” I ask, turning back to Emiya. “I saw—or—I felt, what you did, but I can’t do it. Do we just try again?”

“Magic is a very mental and internal process,” says Emiya, surprisingly nonplussed by me making absolutely no progress, which also makes me feel quite a bit better. If he’s not worried, it’s probably okay, right? “Have you used a spell before?”

“Not really,” I say, thinking back. I’ve tried, and I’ve done some little stuff, but like—a real spell? Any magic I’d have to do much to…work for it? I’ve never been able to. “No,” I finish, “I don’t think so.”

Billy coughs.

Huh? OH CRAP.

My entire face feels like it’s on fire as I remember what I did last night and am engulfed in another big wave of regret. I’m sorry I’m sorry I never meant to.

“Oh—I-I used a command spell, last night,” I choke out, “—does that count?”

Our new Archer ally tilts his head and glances down at the faded mark on my hand beside the two unused ones, then meets my gaze. “It might very well.” He glances over at Billy. “Was it a powerful one?”

“Oh—yeah, it uh, it packed a pretty solid punch,” says Billy.

I hunch over a little and try not to look at him, still overwhelmed I did that. I didn’t mean to! I never would have done anything like that to you on purpose.

I can feel him looking at me, so I give up and glance over after a few seconds, and see he’s still smiling like it doesn’t bother him at all anymore, and I feel better and smile hesitantly back. I relax my shoulders and turn back to Emiya.

“Well,” he says, crossing his arms, “Talk me through it, then Ritsuka. –Mages use mental triggers to activate magic circuits once they’ve already used them, and to open even more, once they have an established trigger,” he adds before I can ask what he means, “So if you used some of your own already for a spell, you might have created a mental trigger without realizing it. When you used the command spell, did you visualize anything happening within or to yourself, along with whatever you were trying to do?”

Uhm. I think hard. It was so dark, and I was so scared last night.

Honestly, I’m still pretty overwhelmed. Excited too, I think, but, I also feel like I might throw up. Better than I felt last night though—that’s for sure.

“I’m not sure. I’m trying to remember,” I say once it’s been a few seconds, and I’m starting to feel awkward.

“Take your time,” says Emiya patiently, “Try to walk through what lead up to it in your head, and focus hard on what you were thinking about at the time.”

Okay. Walk through it.

We’d made it out of Ur-shanabi, and Billy the Kid had agreed to form a contract, so he wasn’t vanishing anymore, but I was really scared. There had been alarms blaring the whole time we were inside the building, and I could still hear them and people shouting when I’d made it back outside to the car. Lights were flashing. I was afraid someone would see us any second and shoot us both, but they didn’t. I used the delivery entrance because I knew it was full of boxes from a shipment that morning, and I made it out.

It had been hard to get him to the hotel without being seen—I’d had to drive, and this was only the third time I’d ever driven a car, and technically I do not have a license even a little bit, or a good fake one, so I’d gone pretty slow, and I was afraid the whole time I’d take too long getting there and people from Ur-shanabi would figure out what I did and catch up, or a policeman would notice I was driving really slow and stop me, and we’d go to jail, or be turned over to Ur-shanabi and die again, or I’d just arrive so late at the hotel he’d bleed to death in the car.

I was connected, so I could feel him, even when I wasn’t looking over—I could feel him fading, and fading, and I kept trying and trying to give him more magical energy, and failing. He looked dead already when I looked over at him, so much blood gone his skin had gone from ghostly white to grey and his lips had turned blue. He was breathing so shallow sometimes I thought he’d stopped completely, and he was hurt so bad and so helpless and in so much pain and I just couldn’t help him like I wanted, like I was trying. I couldn’t. I should have been able, but I couldn’t. And I cried, and it made it hard to see out the windshield, and I got scared I would wreck, so I made myself stop. I bit my tongue the whole next twenty minutes, to not cry and to focus. And I made it, and I got the car parked, and got him in the hotel without being noticed—which was really, really hard, even using the back entrance and late at night, and knowing where I was going.

I remember he was unconscious, and shorter than me and not that heavy, which was good, but he was so pale and sick looking and his breathing was raggedly fast and sounded painful by then; it was awful. His skin had seemed almost translucent to me, like he had no blood left. So much of it was soaking into my shirt by then I could have believed it, and I remember his hair was matted to his head with sweat, and his face was all scrunched up in pain, and sometimes when I would move him he’d moan or cry out a little, and his voice was so weak—I wanted to help him so bad and I was so scared he was going to die before I could even get him into the room and try to save him. He’d already bled completely through the bandages I put on him before getting him into the car—like—soaked through. They were sopping wet, and it was horrible to feel under my fingertips. I could smell it. I hadn’t really thought much about how blood smelled before that, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget. It smells like rust, but worse. Like rust and death.

I had tried so hard, and risked so much, and I was afraid people would find me any minute, even though I had worked so hard to be careful. I had practiced and planned and worked and worked and worked, and I just, I wanted so badly to do it—to keep him alive, and help him—I had since that first moment I’d seen him. But I was terrified he would just vanish and they’d summon him back, and I wouldn’t be able to try again. He felt so faint—the connection I had to him…it felt like it was coming apart and vanishing into the air like smoke. I remember so intensely how I stumbled walking down the last hall, and I was just sure he was going to vanish in my arms and it would all be for nothing, and I wouldn’t know what to do ever again after it happened. But it didn’t.

I made it. I made it to the room, and got him on the bed, and I started to dig the bullet out, because I’m a rotten mage with no skill and no practice, and I couldn’t do what I was meant to, so I had to try and do it like a doctor instead. But it was okay, because I’d prepped for that, and I’d gotten so far, father than I thought I would in the car, and I had been thinking, hoping, because he’d held on so long, maybe I wouldn’t be too late, maybe I’d got it in time. He looked so sick and weak and hurt, but he’d looked just a little bit better once I’d gotten him on the bed and gotten the bloody shirt off. It had felt so good, seeing his lips a little less blue. Seeing him a little more alive, and I’d been full of energy and hopeful and fear all at once, focus more razor-sharp than I think it had ever been my whole life.

And then he’d woken up and started to move. While I was trying to dig a bullet out from just above his heard.

I was scared he’d hurt himself, or move and I would miss my aim and stab him on accident, and kill him, so the second I’d realized he was moving, I’d told him to stop. And the spell had gone off.

What was I thinking, when I said that? Was I thinking anything other than that he needed not to move?

I try to remember, dragging in everything else still fresh in my head from that night, and it works. I remember.

I remember seeing his face, all pale and ashy, and him groaning and moving a little. I had been looking at his face every so often, to check on how he was, while I got the bullet out. And this time he had opened his eyes. They had been unfocused, like he wasn’t really awake and was looking at the ceiling without seeing it, but then he’d looked at me, and I had known he was seeing me. I could tell he was about to move, then, and I had medical pliers in his chest, so I’d thought “Oh no this is bad—I need to keep him down so I can help him and he won’t get hurt”. I’d thought…I’d thought…. in my head, I had thought about…reaching out. Because I’d wanted to do that too—that’s right! That’s right! I remember! Because he’d looked scared too. I’d thought, “I’ll tell him to hold still, and I’ll pat his shoulder so he knows it’s okay,” because my mom always used to do that when I was sick and feverish, and it always made me calm down again. I’d forgotten, because I didn’t do it, but I had been planning to. If I hadn’t hurt him like that on accident, I would have.

“I thought about reaching out,” I say out loud, finally looking back up at Emiya.

“Reaching out?” asks Billy curiously from over in the chair.

“I-I guess that doesn’t make sense,” I say, glancing at him and flushing. I know it doesn’t—it-it sounds dumb, now that I’m thinking about it. Who pats someone who’s getting surgery on the shoulder? If you’re a good doctor, you used anesthetic to knock them out, and they don’t have to wake up at all. I did like, a whole whole lot of things pretty wrong. And it was probably a stupid idea anyway, because he didn’t really know me, and my hand was sopping with blood, and that would have felt pretty gross I think. I look nervously from one to the other of the spirits, hoping they don’t think about it as much as I just did. “Because I told you to hold still, so why would I also be thinking about that? But, I was thinking that it’d pat your shoulder, so you knew it was me, and you were okay, since you’d been through a really bad night.” Mmmmmnggg why did I say that stupid too. Oh well I guess at least it’s true…

Billy blinks at me and kind of stares at nothing for a second, and then slowly smiles to himself and meets my eyes again and gives a little nod. “Well thank you. That was thoughtful.”

Really? “I-It wasn’t though,” I protest, “—I accidentally used a command spell on you.” I glance down miserably at the faded spell seal on my hand.

“Yeah, but it was okay,” promises Billy like he means it. I glance over at him and he looks almost worried about me, which kind of makes me feel worse for worrying him, but also better at the same time. “You didn’t mean to. And all you were tryin’ to do was help.”

“If it’s any consolation to you, it’s a lot easier to accidentally use one of those than it should be, if you haven’t been properly trained,” says Emiya very matter-of-factly, and when I look over, he truly doesn’t look like he judges me at all for this. Really??

“Really?” I ask out loud.

He gives a nod. “So. Reaching out?”

I think again, making sure I’m right, and I am, so I nod.

“Then if you activated your own circuits doing this, that might be your mental trigger now. Think hard on that mental image—do it even, if you want, while visualizing it, and think about opening your circuits and letting mana into them with the gesture,” says Emiya, “Try to picture reaching out, and passing magic through your body, and on to Billy. Like you’re going to tap his shoulder.”

That sounds so simple. I hope it is.

Only one way to find out, I guess.

I glance at Billy, then give Emiya a nod and shut my eyes.

Come on, you can do this. I know you can.

I scrunch up my face and think really, really hard, imagining that. I hold out my left hand and imagine the circuits I’ve seen now filling with magic and letting it out through my fingertips, so I can reach out and touch something with it—so I can heal him, like I’ve been trying so hard to do. I focus on that, and then I simplify—I focus just on the image of holding out my hand, of reaching out, of trying to connect. To myself, to other people, to everything. To that big blue sky I saw for an instant, to Billy. To—

There’s a feeling somewhere between electricity and the tug of a strained muscle, and it starts in my chest where I imagined following my circuits back to the pool of mana I’m connected to, and up to my shoulder, then down along my left arm and to my fingers. It almost hurts; it kind of scares me, but I’m way too thrilled to really care about that. It feels like it leaves me, which is so thrilling I feel my stomach drop, and I open my eyes immediately and look at Billy.

—Okay, I’m a goof—I don’t know what I expected to see, since he’s got a bandage on, but. He’s looking down at his chest, and he holds a hand up in front of the wound, and gently places his palm on it, then slowly looks over at me and grins.

“Nice work, partner,” he says, almost as excited as I am.

“I did it?” I ask ecstatically. I look from him, to Emiya. “I did it?”

Billy gives a nod.

“You did it,” confirms Emiya.

“Yes! Yes! HAH!” I shout to the ceiling, snagging a pillow and throwing it in the air in excitement before even thinking about what I’m doing, HELL YEAH! I’m the BEST! He’s the best! We’re gonna save everybody! We DID it! YEAH! “Thank you!” I say, turning my attention to Emiya. I throw myself forward and hug him, and he jolts back a little, then I hear him sigh and he moves an arm to pat my back stiffly twice.

“Sure thing. It’s what you summoned me for, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah, but,” I say, moving back so I can look up at him, “Still! Thank you! Thank you so much! This is amazing!”

It is! AH! He’s so nice and so good at teaching magic! Oh! And—now? There’s so much stuff for me to try now! I want to do more—I want to learn so many spells, and—

“Careful,” says Emiya, smiling a little and holding up a cautioning hand, “Don’t go overboard here—I taught you how to activate your circuits, but you’re still untrained, and your precision and stamina will be weak. For now, try not to tire yourself out—you’re going to need whatever magic you can manage to do once we go into Ur-shanabi, so don’t waste it or overtax yourself now.”

“Oh, right,” I say, giving him a serious nod. Makes sense. We’ve got to go back, and I’m probably going to have to heal more heroic spirits. Honestly, healing Billy just now—I didn’t feel it through the adrenaline at all, but now that I’m calming down a little to be serious again, I’m realizing it really took something out of me—I’m tired. Not super tired, and to be fair, I’ve lifted a lot of weight and kinda run myself pretty ragged today, so maybe I’m just…normal tired. But my arm sort of aches now too, so I think some of it has got to be the magic. Curious, I hold my arm up and make a fist, then open and close it, seeing how that feels.

“Does it hurt?” asks Emiya.

“Not really,” I answer, glancing back up at him, “Just a little, but not like real pain—like the kind you get being sore after running.”

He gives a nod. “Good, then you didn’t over-exert yourself or open them wrong.” He gets up from the bed then, and I turn on it to follow him with my gaze. “You should be proud.”

“Do I need to do anything else?” I ask, “To practice? Or get ready?”

“Eat something, and then rest,” he answers, picking up one of the teacups I set out, and pouring himself some, then one for me, which he holds out. I take it. “You can focus on the mission details of what we’re doing in the meantime. Magically speaking, try to do as little as possible now—that is assuming you’ve now healed your Gunner all the way.”

We both look over at Billy, and I realize he’s stood up and taken the bandage off. He’s looking down and studying his chest where he was shot. It’s a little hard for me to tell if he’s hurt anymore myself, because there’s a lot of blood from when he was bleeding still all over there, but he touches the wound and pushes down a little, which makes me a little sick to see, but he seems okay.

I did it. I smile. He looks happy, and he looks so much better. I’m realizing suddenly this is the best I’ve ever seen him. Even before I moved him, he has only ever been half-dead in Ur-shanabi. He looks different like this. Alive, vibrant almost, and really happy. Good. I’m so glad. It’s so different from how he looked the first time I saw him, it makes me really happy too.

Billy takes two steps and stretches his arms out then and rolls his left shoulder and winces, and I feel my smile fade.

Crap—I still did it wrong, then? I…

“That’s amazing,” says Billy, whipping around to beam at me. Oh wow he’s really pretty and he’s covered in blood and doesn’t have his shirt on and his hair is dry now and fluffy and I’m overwhelmed by how happy and friendly he is and feel my face heat up again and have to turn my head away for a second because I feel overwhelmed.

“A-are you sure?” I ask, making myself glance back up at him, “It looked like moving your shoulder hurt.”

“Yeah, of course!” he says, turning to show me where the wound was, “I’m a little sore still, and kind of beat to hell energy-wise, but I’m pretty much good as new.” He lowers his arm then and flashes me another smile, blue eyes bright and welcoming and open like the sky. He’s so nice, and he’s got so much energy. I wonder if this is kind of an American thing in general, or if it’s just him who’s really cool and bubbly. I’m way too nervous to ask him anything like that though—p-probably it would be a really stupid thing to say too. And…

I stop thinking about that because he comes over then, and takes a knee by the bed. “Thank you,” he says sincerely, giving a little bow of his head for a moment before looking up at me again, “For this, and for everything. I’m real lucky you found me.”

I don’t know what to say, because I’m not remotely used to being complimented, and I totally freeze up, but it’s turns out okay because he keeps going.

“Not bad at all for your first proper spell, huh?” Billy gives a little wink, then gets to his feet again.

“Y-yeah.” I answer, and I realize I mean it and smile back. I am proud. “Thank you. I guess it was pretty good.”

“It was exactly what we needed,” says Billy.

“Alright then. Now that we’ve got that sorted, shall we move on to the planning stage?” says Emiya. He’s taken a seat in one of the hotel chairs and has a leg propped over the other and his cup in in one hand, my building schematic in the other.

“Absolutely!” I agree readily, hopping off the bed and snagging another chair, pulling it close to finish a sort of chair-circle for us three, “What do we need first?”

“First,” says Emiya as Billy takes a seat in the third chair, glancing up from the schematics for a moment to meet my gaze, “We need to know if they’ve summoned any other servants, who if possible, and most importantly, where to find them.”

#finally exposition is done and I can get back to the fun stuff to write next time. ACTION. HELLS YEAH #fate go #fate grand order #fate go AU #the kid (fic)#the kid #fgo fic #fate go fic #fate grand order fic #fgo AU #fate grand order AU #Billy the Kid #Ritsuka Fujimaru #Archer Emiya #heroic spirit Emiya #writing #also wrote my daughter's pov finally! yeee

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onewfantaesy · 3 years

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Crime Baby is living up to my expectations. Taemin ever so slightly embracing his dads side is kinda cool. I know he's morally against everything his dads family stands for, but theres got to be some things he takes from heechul. Like the smirk, wave, wink thing! I loved that, perfectly Taemin/heechul style. Does he take any other traits from HC? Is he actually a mini-me!?!

I also feel like HC is very involved with his kids and takes "parenting" serious, likes one on one time, wants the relationship to be good, like to help them and encourage them, make them confident...but he also just happens to like blowing ppl up when they make him mad and getting them hooked on drugs *shrug* lol

Taemin actually is the spitting image of Heechul in this AU! A total mini-me! Heechul brings it up often, mentions as if it’s a cute little quirk that that’s how he realized his past affair had hidden a child from him. It makes Taemin feel sick to his stomach.

Anyways, onto Crime Baby AU

(tw for like general crime family murder I guess lmao)

Taemin learns quickly that Heechul takes his role as head of the family very seriously. Family dinners, family meetings, family calls. And at least once a month, Taemin is summoned for a one-on-one meeting.

It was nerve wracking at first. Heechul always asked what Taemin wanted to do, but it was Heechul who told Taemin to be there, shouldn’t he have something planned? Shouldn’t there be a reason for Taemin to be there? But after just a few meetings together, they quickly find how they best mesh together.

Heechul likes imparting his wisdom on his children. He especially likes passing on this wisdom to Taemin, partially because he’s the youngest and partially because he missed so much time with him. He’s decided these one-on-ones are best spent teaching Taemin the smaller details about being a man.

Taemin finds he actually sort of enjoys it, but mainly because it involves playing a lot of billiards and learning how to handle his liquor. He’s still just a teenager, but Heechul seems insistent on Taemin learning how to be a “smart drinker,” as Heechul phrases it. Taemin doesn’t question it, but he learns quickly which alcohols he likes and which he absolutely despises.

But playing pool is fun, Taemin decides. Sometimes, it’s almost like they’re a normal father and son. Sometimes, Taemin pretends that’s all it is: just normal father and son time. No hidden agenda. No ulterior motive. No hushed phone calls in the other room while Taemin pretends he’s still practicing a trick shot and not listening in on what can only be plans for a new scheme of sorts.

When Heechul comes back into the room, Taemin just smiles and asks if he can have another drink. Heechul smiles back, tucks his phone into his back pocket, and teaches Taemin how to make the drink himself. After a couple drinks and a long night, Taemin is exhausted. He’s tired, and his eyes feel heavy, and he just wants to sleep.

He doesn’t often spend the night at his father’s penthouse, but sometimes Heechul insists. The first night it happened, Taemin was terrified, and he didn’t even know what room he was supposed to sleep in. He didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in one of his half-sibling’s unused bedrooms.

Until Heechul tells him, “This is your room. For you to use anytime you need it.”

Taemin is too tired to resist. The room is spinning and his head hurts and he mumbles a “Thank you” before falling into the bed. He has terrible dreams the first night; confusing, freaky dreams that don’t connect to each other and don’t make sense. He hates sleeping after drinking, but mainly because he never really sleeps. Not well. He ends up waking up the next morning feel like death.

“Hey sleepy head,” Heechul calls softly the next morning, a chuckle escaping his lips as Taemin flops over and groans, covering his eyes with his hands. “Time to get up. Euisoo’s on his way to pick you up.”

It’s how most mornings go, with Heechul telling him when Euisoo is on the way. When Taemin falls stumbles out of bed, it usually also leads to a clap on the shoulder and a, “You did well last night,” before Heechul leaves Taemin to get ready.

It’s incredibly intimidating, but Taemin comes to find it strangely comforting after a while. Heechul listens to him during their one-on-one time, lets Taemin talk about whatever he wants, offers advice if he has any to give. Offers to take care of any problems Taemin might have, with any people who might be causing him trouble. Taemin always declines.

Until one night when he’s seventeen and walking into Heechul’s penthouse, extension freshly put into his hair for an upcoming comeback, his entire body shaking like a leaf and his chest heaving and Euisoo standing next to him, an arm wrapped tightly around him, looking like he wants to hurt someone. It was supposed to be a family meetings. They were late. Everyone was already there. Watching him.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” he manages to ask, his words stuttered and mashed together, Heechul quick to come over to him and find out what happened.

One of the other managers - a senior manager known for being harsh and a hardass - had taken Taemin to get his hair done early that morning, then had to bring him back to record his lines for the new album. Euisoo, despite protesting and arguing that Taemin was typically his responsibility, had been tasked with taking a couple of the other members to a different schedule. By the time he got back, he heard from other staff members how Taemin had made the same mistake in the recording too many times for the manager’s liking and had been “disciplined” for it.

It’s not like it was a new thing. It’s not like Taemin hadn’t gone through the same thing during his trainee days. But this manager was ruthless, was hot-headed, and was clearly on a power trip. He’d never been left alone with this manager before. He’d never not had one of the other members with him or another manager with him when he was with this manager. And now he was traumatized, and he had the bruises to show for it.

Taemin has never seen Heechul as mad as he saw him that night. Like he’d seen red, like the devil was in his eyes. He’d tried to send Taemin off to his room with one of his half-siblings, but Taemin freaked out. He refused to be away from Euisoo, refused to go anywhere without him. But he was also refusing to go back to the dorms that night, so Euisoo stayed with him, kept him safe in his room, and comforted him as best he could while Heechul planned his revenge with the rest of the family.

When the other manager doesn’t show up for work a few days later, Taemin doesn’t think anything of it. Ignores it. Puts it out of his head.

Until his body washes up in a river, stripped of all his clothes, his hands cut off and missing (found washed up in the same river a few days later).

Everyone knows right away it’s related to one of the major crime families, what with the state his body was found in, but no one can find out exactly who or why. No one ever connects it to Taemin. The case quickly goes cold.

Taemin continues pretending it never happened. Continues putting it out of his head. He doesn’t want to know anything about it. Because his family is terrifying, even if they are on his side.

#taemin #shinee #Heechul #crime baby au #wantonewsbabies

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yandere-society · 5 years

Note

maybe a one shot with Taehyung getting jealous to the point of hurting another BTS member? Preferably x reader.

Devil’s Fair Share

By: @roses-ruby

Word Count: 14,423

Warnings: Cursing, Smut, Yandere, Unprotected sex, Oral (F receiving), Spanking, Possessiveness, Possessive talk, Violence

A/N: Guess who it is:D aha! I’m back at it again with this fuckery. I hope this is what you wanted anon, It’s my first time posting on this account so I hope I didn’t mess anything up! This is longer than I expected but well :) what can you expect from me. Edited but…I’m dumb so there might be mistakes. Okay, luvs. Enjoy!

Taehyung hated you for many reasons.

He hated that you were a busybody, always trying to get into everyone’s business with a help everyone mentality painted across your forehead. He hated how much time you took to tell a single story. Going on and on about God knows what. And he absolutely despised how much you hung out with them – or rather him on an average basis.

Which is why he was practically sneering at you from his table, as he watched you chatting in line while waiting to pay your bill.

Just because he was staring at you, didn’t mean he didn’t notice some of Jungkook’s sneaky fingers making their way for his fries.

“Cut it out, Jeon.” He scowled when the tip of the younger’s index touched a particularly long fry which was sticking out of the basket.

Jungkook retracted his hand like he was burned and let out a sigh, “There’s like a thousand in there! And you didn’t even eat them. Why’re you so mean?”

It’s not that he didn’t want to consume them, it’s just that he lost his appetite after seeing your face appear from behind him when he entered the Deli on the bottom floor of their BigHit. He didn’t even want the sack of frozen stale fried potatoes, deciding to quietly munch on his small sandwich throughout lunch instead. But whatever the case – they were still his fries. Taehyung ignored the pouting of the man child sitting next to him to zero in on you who was laughing at something he said while slightly touching his arm. Yuck, what an ugly laugh.

“Just leave it, when has he ever shared anything of his?” Yoongi soft voice scolded the younger who was ogling the basket with his lips caught between his bunny teeth, “Besides you ate two large Hawaiian burgers, how could you still be hungry?”

Jungkook squinted his eyes at the rapper, telling him to be quiet as he once again snuck his hand over the table. However, he doesn’t get very far before Taehyung smacks his hand away with more force than needed.

“Didn’t I tell you to cut it out?” He raises his voice, turning his head to face the oversized hooded menace. Everyone’s head turns their way, as Jungkook shifts – slightly taken aback at the fury in Taehyung’s eyes. Soon his own anger flares up and he glares at the older, “Fine, keep your stupid fries and choke, Hyung.”

Standing up, he marches away from the table and heads into the parking lot to blow off some steam. Yoongi groans, reluctantly getting up to follow and comfort the youngest while rolling his eyes. When Taehyung’s face lands back on you, he catches you – the whole place rather – gaping at him with a mix of confusion and concern. Namjoon was raising a brow at him, a sort ‘the hell did you do’ indication on his face. He mutters under his breath, no longer comfortable in the suddenly threatening atmosphere. Which leads him to straighten up and wander off behind the other two.

Leaving the basket of fries rotting on the table.

See, this is why Taehyung hated you. Because he didn’t understand why you had to make a beeline straight for Namjoon’s room when they reached the sanctity of their dorms. You were shy, Hoseok had told him, you didn’t know the others well. Unlike Namjoon, who you had grown up with. Taehyung would just growl at the redhead in return, firmly telling him that he wasn’t interested in knowing anything about you.

What gave Hoseok the right to think he knows you so well, anyway?

If he reflects about it, Taehyung’s not sure when it first was that he began detesting you. You appeared collectively in their life a few years ago, a nervous young girl who had just moved into the city after her enrollment in Seoul University. Namjoon introduced you to the group with a dimpled smile, as you hid shyly behind his length and peered off his shoulder. As far as he recalls, you are a fan of the band – even had Jimin’s photocard placed inside your phone case. Usually, all the members are protective of who they invite into their home, refusing to let anyone they found problematic into their small circle. It stemmed from company policy as well as a couple of dirty leaks in their entourage of managers and stylists – exchanging information with sasaengs for a few quick bucks.

Needless to say, they were wary of the public in general. Too much time and effort had gone into their dreams of becoming singers for them to let something as small as visiting a bar ruin it. They promised one another to stay far away from anything scandalous. Which ranged from clubs to casual hook-ups. He knows most of the guys have broken the latter rule though, including himself. But they never let any fling become too close, never let any promiscuous desire tarnish their image.

However, Namjoon swore up and down on your character. “She won’t bother you guys! She’ll just hang out with me sometimes.”

And back then, he could stand you. Thought of your innocent doe eyes and somber behavior as adorable even! Yet as time passed on, your caution to avoid everyone who wasn’t Namjoon and commitment on keeping the rest of the members at a surface-level basis infuriated him. Did you think of yourself that high and mighty, that no one but Namjoon was worthy of your time? Fuck off.

“Shit!”

He shouts in his deep baritone as he’s once again defeated by Jin in the lousy racing game they chose to pass the time by. The window-wiping laughter of the elder makes him slump further into the couch wanting to be swallowed whole.

“That’s the third win!” Jin cheers, chugging on his beer in victory. Taehyung just laughs at the childish antics of the elder, his face turning red the more shit-faced he became. Through his own puffy eyes, he watches the TV screen replay Jin’s victory and groans when his stomach growls, having been more than a few hours since he last ate. With all his previous adrenaline absent, he decides to get up, stretching his sleeping tendons and scratching the itch on his ass.

“I’m gonna get something to eat. You want something?” He asks Jin, who is swinging both his leg and controller of the end of the couch while acting dead.

“There’s still the extra Jajangmyeon Jungkook ordered in the fridge.” Jin replies nonchalantly, resting his sore body on the cushions. Practice was especially hard today.

Taehyung nods, more to himself and saunters his way over to the kitchen across the hall. This dorm of theirs was rather spacious compared to the one they started out with.

He remembers it quite well, the shared mess of a bedroom and cramped bathroom. The mildly yellow walls and unembellished closets. It was in those times where the members were the closest, a silent joint empathy amongst all of them. Him and Namjoon shared an unbreakable bond. Taehyung was a country boy, fresh off the farm when he first joined the dorm. He cringes as he thinks about how awkward he was, the village-like simplicity of his fashion and the heavy accent he endowed for the first few months. Everyone had trouble understanding him, thinking he was the strangest thing after ET. Everyone except Namjoon.

Maybe it was because the boy boasted such a high I.Q. or maybe kindness was just second nature to the much taller man, all Taehyung knew was that he was eternally grateful to him.

Where areas some of the other members would write off his behavior as a passive eccentric trait, Namjoon carefully listened to him. He would try to see his point of view and never made Taehyung feel like he was weird for his thoughts and efforts. Taehyung in return respected Namjoon and his vision – which is why he was fine with distributing a room with him and only him.

Even if he was a bit clumsy sometimes.

Nonetheless, the days where they were inseparable roommates have long gone, now each member held their own room and their own hefty possessions. Sometimes he misses the simpler days, but he mostly liked this scenario as well. He was never a man who enjoyed sharing.

When Taehyung steps into the kitchen, he heads straight for the fridge. Immediately he spots the Jajangmyeon Jin mentioned and takes out the large bowl covered with a thin film of plastic wrap. Taking off the plastic, he slides his way to the microwave and stuffs the dish in there to warm up. He begins whistling the tune of the newest song they were recording, taking out a pair of black chopsticks from their cutlery drawer. Soon the microwave beeps, and he takes the Jajangmyeon out, smelling the heated pieces of pork ready to be devoured. His mouth waters as he began to sift the noodles and sauce together.

As he’s stretching the noodles apart, the sound of soft steps on the foyer make their way to his ear. He turns his head, to find your slightly startled figure staring at him in surprise.

“Hi.” He says with his eyebrows raised

“Hey.” You reply awkwardly, shifting on your feet and playing with your sweater paws

“Are you hungry?”

“Um, no I just wanted some water-” You stop that sentence when a ‘way too loud for the otherwise silent kitchen’ rumble rips its way from your stomach.

Taehyung lets out a snort, chuckling afterward as your cheeks dust themselves red and you wrap your arms around your abdominal in scrutiny. He looks at the steaming bowl in front of him, his right hand in midair of stretching the noodles, then looks back at you.

“This bowl is too large for just me. Wanna share?”

“O-Oh no!” You put up your arms in front of you, “I don’t want to both-“

“Get over here.”

“Yes, okay.” Dropping your hands, you meekly make your way over to Taehyung who gets a second pair of chopsticks from the drawer and hands it to you with a wink.

You watch as he immediately digs into the noodles with a big bite as you hesitate to touch the dish at all. He glances at you in confusion when he notices you’re not eating, and you accidentally let out a laugh. His cheeks were stuffed squishy with Jajangmyeon and there were stains of black bean sauce all over his mouth.

He looked like a tiny baby bear.

“Y-you ha-have,” You stutter between giggles and point at his face. But when he continues to cluelessly munch on his food you gently move your thumb to the corner of his lips, wiping off some of the sauce.

He doesn’t move an inch, just feeling the sensation of your finger and immediacy giving him goosebumps. Once you’re done wiping, you retract your hand to stare at your thumb. It hits you then of what you just did, and you look back up at him in shock.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to um…didn’t…”

You lose you train of thought as Taehyung grabs your hand, bringing your thumb to his lips. He gently puckers them over your thumb and sucks off the sauce as you let out a small gasp. His eyes never leave yours and the heat from his soft mouth shoots right up your spine. For a while you just stare at each other, Taehyung’s sharp pupils examining your features. Your pink mouth is slightly parted, and your glazed eyes resemble a doll. He thought he heard you let out an almost inaudible whine as he kisses your thumb. It stirs something inside him that he himself doesn’t understand.

“___?”

You both jump far back when a deep voice calls out your name. With wide eyes and fast heartbeats, you stare at one another in a tremor. What were you doing just now? Namjoon soon appears into the kitchen with his hands in his short’s pocket and stops a few feet from you. He raises a brow as he looks between you and Taehyung and the obvious uncomfortable atmosphere dressing the place.

“You were taking a long time so…I came to check if you were okay?” He tells you, pausing a bit to catch Taehyung’s eyes, “We have to finish your assignment, so we should head back…”

“Y-yeah,” You suddenly remember how you were originally working on your trig quiz with your best friend and wandered off to quickly grab something to eat from the kitchen. “I’m fine.”

Turning back around, you smile at Taehyung before you notice something in his presence is off. You move your hand to set down the chopsticks on the countertop, accidentally brushing your fingers next to the bowl. Taehyung snatches the bowl out of your reach, and you become alarmed at the abrupt movement and his harsh glare.

“Don’t touch it.” He snarls in a low but clear voice. You observe him in shock as he steps his way around you and Namjoon and leaves the kitchen with heavy stomps.

Namjoon sighs as he watches him leave, “Don’t mind him. That jerk hates sharing anything.”

He looks back at you, who’s just gazing at where Taehyung once stood with an unreadable expression.

“___?” He calls again in a concerned tone, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Huh, what?”

“You good?” Namjoon seems worried, studying your face with furrowed brows.

Namjoon’s been your friend for the longest time. You both met at the time when you stood 2 feet from the ground and still secretly wet the bed. Namjoon was a year older than you and had the gentlest soul. Other boys couldn’t compare, they had cooties. When you live in the same neighborhood and your parents are great friends, it’s not hard to see one another every day. So you did – and you both became very close, very quickly. If there was a test coming up, you’d rush to his house even in the middle of the night. When your mother was nagging at you for something stupid, you’d ask him to come over and bring his bike to ride around town. And when those cootie-filled boys broke your heart in middle school, his arms were the first ones you’d run into.

It was because of those days that you felt like you had taken a lot from him, and you desperately needed to return the favor. After he moved to Seoul, he called you often. Talking about things far from your general knowledge such as dance practices and the flow of rhythm and poetry. You would just sit back and let him rant, a content smile on your face at how much he was growing. But soon his words became alarming, especially after they debuted. At first, he would talk about how excited he was and ask what everyone thought about him or his group. That quickly changed into him complaining about the hate comments, about the relentless hours they worked, about rude staff or seniors they encountered. He told you how much he missed his parents, the quarry on the east end of town him and his friends hung out at, and how lonely he became at night when everyone but him was asleep. Your heart ached at his words and you knew it was time to repay your debt.

You were as shocked as everyone else when you actually got into Seoul University. Not Namjoon though, he was over the moon at your arrival. Your visits to the dorm began shortly and you transformed into a major stress-reliever for Namjoon. It was a recuperated feeling, he was also your ball of vitality after a long day. So were the other members of BTS you had become fond of through stories Namjoon told you or Bangtan Bombs you spent hours watching. They were awkward around you, and you were awkward with them. Some members were closer to you than others.

Taehyung was one of them…in the beginning at least. He was fun and charming, and he always knew how to make you laugh. It’s not like you used up eras talking to him. They were all fully grown adult men with a demanding job and barely any moments for themselves. Not wanting to bother their already busy schedule, you mostly hung around Namjoon. But from the few times you did run into him in the dorm, he was kind and easy-going. You were embarrassed to admit it, but you had the fattest crush on him even though Jimin was your bias. Everything about him was attractive – from his piercing facial features to his boxy smile and fluffy hair. That all changed one day though, as he rarely directed a smile at you. Instead he started to scowl whenever you stepped foot into the dorm.

You thought maybe you were interrupting the time between the seven members too much and he needed you to back off a bit. So you spoke to Namjoon about it who vigorously denied your allegations. Even though you felt bad about the whole situation, you knew how much your friend needed you to be his rock. The more popular they became, the more he felt like he was losing himself. Being a celebrity is harder than it seems – you try to dissociate your reality from the perception of others and it still becomes a tangled mess in the form of a persona. And so, you stayed with Namjoon, even through Taehyung’s frowns and glares. It hurt for a while because of your feelings towards the blonde, but soon you just concentrated on being a good friend.

When he spoke to you today, you were surprised. You didn’t find any disdain in his orbs or hidden layers underneath his words. A part of you thought he was finally fine with you again, just for him to do what he usually does when Namjoon appeared.

You notice the worried features set upon your older friend and smile up at him though your eyes don’t,

“I’m good. Let’s go.”

“Baby, can we pleaaassse order another shot?”

The girl demands into his ear, snuggling herself up further on his velvet clad shoulder. He internally rolled his eyeballs feeling suffocated by her skin ship, playing with the lime wedge on the edge of his untouched gin and tonic. The club’s music was pounding in his brain and he had spent the majority of yesterday vomiting out his nerves for their recent comeback. Their senior manager told him to take the day off and clear his head. Specifically warning him to not go to the club in Hongdae again, so obviously that’s where he went.

It’s not that he’s stupid, he knows why his company forbade such behavior. But it didn’t matter who it was, he didn’t like to be told what to do. Many celebrities visited and hooked-up with random rich kids here anyway, so security was pretty tight. No one who even resembled a reporter would be allowed to wander an inch of this place. Everyone dressed in Gucci shirts, and LV shoes so it wasn’t hard to weed out the peasants. A few undercover Dispatch employees have probably slipped in here though, but his company had already made a very generous donation to them so he knew even they wouldn’t bother him.

Taehyung frowns, he was always so damn stubborn and held probably the biggest ego in BTS. What did he even want to do at a club? There was nothing interesting for him here, especially not the half-drunk girl he’s been texting with for a few weeks. She seemed mysterious and chic on Instagram, but Taehyung should’ve known better than to trust that lying devil of a site. Now he was practically stuck with her thin arms wrapped around his waist.

As soon as he met her, she suggested a threesome between her, him and Jimin. It made him angry, but he played it cool for the sake of getting laid. Taehyung was never a man who shared. Especially if that something was his. His father instilled this part of his identity into him; a real man never takes for granted what’s rightfully his property. And with that value set as an important part of his core is how he lived his everyday life. From food, to clothes and even lovers…what was his, was his.

As she leaned into him, he takes a peek at her cleavage. Her red spaghetti-strapped dress was extremely low cut and the silicon in her breasts felt like the real deal.

Well maybe this wasn’t so bad.

He leans back into the cushions of his booth, eyeing the hordes of people dancing. There were a couple of faces he recognized, some good memories some bad. The girl begins to suck on his ear, and he sighs. In a second, he was just about to get up – bring this girl back to the dorm and fuck her brains out when he spots something that immediately catches his attention.

You.

This was the last place he expected you to be.

He hadn’t seen you for a while after the incident in the kitchen. You made it your mission to avoid bumping into him and for some reason that upset him. Taehyung keeps thinking about your small interaction over and over again.Just laying in his bed and wishing to hold onto your delicate hand once again. There was something pulling him to you and it really confused him. Wasn’t he supposed to hate you?

It was as if all the world’s noises and distractions had faded into nothing as he zeroed in on you.

You were sitting at the bar slowly sipping a light pink concoction in a short and wide glass. His gaze lingers on your figure, perfectly embraced by the dark green body con dress you were wearing. A velour cotton he analyzed; he was the expert in fashion in BTS after all. It seemed to reach down just below your ass, but he could’ve been wrong since it was riding up the more you shifted in your stool. The sleeves covered your arms and the neckline was wide, exposing your collarbones and ending just a centimeter above your chest area. Just then a thought of undressing you crossed his mind, leaving him shivering in his seat. He licks his lips as his heart starts beating faster from your lazy movements.

“Tae?” A sudden voice interrupts his thoughts “When are going to go somewhere a little more…”

Moving up on him she breaths into his face, observing him with cat eyes, “Quiet?”

There’s no expression on him as he answers her, “Never.”

She looks taken aback, moving off of his body and furrowing her eyebrows in question.

“What?”

She seemed offended

“Jimin just texted me. He says you look boring. Bye.” Is the last thing he says before picking up his drink and standing. He doesn’t look back to see her reaction as he focuses on walking towards you.

You were finishing the last of your light alcoholic drink before you suddenly smell Tom Ford from a warm presence next to you. Turning your face, you see Taehyung leaning into the bar table with his left arm and smiling at you. He was wearing a navy-blue velvet jacket with gold embellishments lining the edges of his arm. His black button up shirt was tucked into his tight leather pants and his neck exhibited a thin choker with a golden fox charm in the center. It matched with the blonde hair that fell over his sharp eyes.

Why was he here? Well…it makes more sense for him to be at this club than you. But Namjoon had told you of Taehyung’s strange behavior recently. It worried you, was he in the correct state of mind in this moment? He didn’t seem drunk to you as you survey his posture closely. The second he showed you his boxy smile, was when suddenly everything became brighter in the dark club.

“Hi.” He says in that familiar profound tenor

“Hey.” You reply back a little too quietly

“What brings you here?” He asks with a smirk, freezing your movements when he tucks a stray hair behind you ear.

“I c-came with a celebrity friend of mine…She kinda disappeared into the crowd.”

“Oh?” He says, bringing up his drink to his lips and taking a sip, “Do I know them?”

“The actress…Yujin. Namjoon introduced me to her a while back.”

At the mention of Namjoon he glances up from his glass. The eyes that were once focused on studying your features now held a heavy threatening aura, his lips pulled into a straight line.

When you notice the change in the atmosphere, you try your best to change the subject.

“W-what are you drinking by the way?”

When he registers your words, his pupils lighten again like he was some fairytale creature. His mouth forms back into a lighthearted smirk and he raises his drink up to your lips this time.

“Wanna find out?”

You back away from the cool touch of his tall glass just for him to bring it closer to your mouth again. His posture is playful and his smile boxy. Where was this Taehyung when you were at the dorms? With a purse of your lips, you open them somewhat to allow the glass into your mouth.

Carefully you angle your head up, allowing Taehyung to slightly pour the alcohol into your mouth. Your tongue retracts at first by the intrusion of the bitter liquid, but it soon flattens smoothly and let’s the drink slide down your throat. When you are finished with the first gulp, Taehyung’s hand settles onto the back of your head, his elongated fingers tangled in your strands. He uses that to push your head back further and let you drink more of his gin and tonic, controlling your movements with his warm limbs. Your lids flutter at his dominance, you felt yourself getting wet.

“Good girl,” He says in a deep velvety voice, making you clench your thighs, “Just like that.”

The action no longer seems innocent as he observes you like a hawk, his proximity heating your torso. You gawk hard into his bottomless eyes and found an unrecognizable desire dancing around his irises. Your core was on fire causing your cheeks to inflame. The liquid continued to slide down your throat, making you feel dizzy at the cool flavor. It felt like everything in the club had come to a halt in favor of watching Taehyung shove his drink down your throat.

As you down the whole drink, he removes the glass from your lips and sets it down while his other hand stays in his hair. It feels like you’ve run a marathon, your chest moving up and down and your eyes teary with lust. You struggle to speak – your brain was fuzzy as the alcohol settled in your system.

“Shh.” He hushed you, your mouth automatically shutting at his command. It made him smile and he cupped your jaw, moving his thumb along your lips. You tremble in his hands, your panties soaked with your juices.

“Wanna come home with me?”

Taehyung’s keys jingle as he slides it into the lock.

With a click he pushes the door open and enters into the pitch-black room with you following close behind. He flicks on the light switch and indifferently starts removing his derby’s. You on the other hand stare in shock and awe at the larger than life luxury apartment he brought you to. Your eyes wander all over the place – at the expensive adornments and odd-looking décor to the huge windows that gave you a clear view of the Han river.

“Wow.” You whisper

You hear Taehyung snort behind you, “You like it?”

“It’s quite something.” You utter as he comes into your view and places his shoes by his house slippers and proceeds to walk barefoot into the foyer casually. Snapping out of your reverie, you bring up your leg to pull off your heels one at a time, awkwardly setting them down next to the other two pairs.

When you’re done with that you enter the floorboard and look around to see where the blonde-haired man went.

“Taehyung?” You call out

“In here.” He shouts back from a room with the door slightly ajar and a small sunset light shining into the bright living room.

You walk across most of his apartment to reach the door, standing stagnant in front of it hesitantly. With a gulp you slide the door open and stepped inside.

Taehyung turns his face when he sees you. He’s taken off his coat and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his silk shirt. Smiling, he ruffles his hair while walking towards you who stood in the doorway.

“Hi.” He says cheekily, backing you into a corner

Causing you break out into a giggle, “Hello.”

His hand comes into contact with yours, his fingertips touching yours lightly before traveling up your arm. The warmth causes goosebumps in his trail and he places his fingers underneath your jaw, tilting your head up. His eyes roam around your face before settling into yours intensely, and you swear he looks unreal – like he just stepped out of a Ghibli animation.

“I always thought you so beautiful.” He mutters, his breath fanning your face

“Tae…” Is what you barely manage to say before his lips are on yours

The kiss is so slow, so sweet – you feel like you’re imagining it. When his tongue comes in contact with your lower lip you open your mouth to allow him entry. His large hand caresses your cheek, as his tongue dances with yours softly. Tilting his head to the side, he deepens the kiss pushing you up against the wall. In a second the kiss becomes faster, harder with him licking the insides of your mouth in a frenzy.

He himself didn’t know how long he’s wanted to kiss you. All he does know is that you taste delicious. A mix of bitter and sweet, like Rose spritzer and Gin. It was addictive and now that he’s had a taste, he can’t get enough.

“Mm- Tae-,” You try to muffle through a kiss, putting a hand up to his chest

He doesn’t seem to hear you as he pushes his tall, sturdy body onto you – his hot chest colliding with yours and his arms on either side of your head with his hands planted on the wall.

“T-Tae,” You say a bit louder this time, using a little more force to get him off you

He comes off in a breath, hands still on that wall and his eyes wide and pupils blown. His chest was moving up and down and his lips were wet with spit.

“You alright?”

“I…I just can’t do this.” You say with sadness in your voice. “I like you too much to be just another hook-up…so I can’t.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes and you flush, looking away. What was going to happen now? He didn’t seem to like you…was he going to tell you to leave?

“What gave you that idea?”

You look back up in surprise and meet his hardened stare

“I..I just thought-“

“I’ve never brought anyone here.” Taehyung interjects, “Did you know that?”

“What?” You say in disbelief “Really?”

Sighing, he drops his head giving you a clear view of his blonde locks, “Yes, really.”

“I know that you’ve probably heard from the members that I don’t share anything of mine…but…”

He looks back up at you, “That’s never been a problem with you.”

As you register what he was stating, you become apprehensive. If he was saying he likes you too…then why did he treat you like that before? All the scowls and harsh stares, what were those for?

“I thought you hated me.”

“I’m sorry. I-I thought I did too.” He grimaces, “But instead, I think I was just…that…”

It seems like he doesn’t want to finish his sentence, but you weren’t going to settle on a vague answer.

“You were what?” You drill him with a new-found confidence

“I was jealous!” He shouts, startling you a bit.

“You and…Namjoon,” He grits out your best friends name with his teeth clenched, “are together all the damn time! You don’t acknowledge me when he’s close by and you go straight into his room without even looking at me! I don’t know…how can I not be jealous when I want you to be mine?”

“…would you be mine?”

Your jaw drops open at his confession, all the new information starting to irritate your brain. The only reason you avoid him is because of how he acts…and he’s saying he acts this way because you avoid him? What a strange cycle. As your gaze lingers at the fury in his orbs, you can’t help but break into a laugh, which shocks him.

“Oh my god, you are so cute,” You say in between hearty giggles and watch him twist his face in embarrassment.

“It’s really not that funny,” He pouts “Hey, stop laughing!”

You hear him grumble underneath his breath as his facial expressions continue to amuse. Honestly, you didn’t know how to reply to his accusation. I mean, you and Namjoon? That would never happen in a million years. It was cliché, but he was literally like an older brother to you. So, this declaration sort of disgusted you. There was just no way you could ever discern Namjoon in that way, and you were sure it was the same for him.

Although, there was one time a few years ago where you both were extra lonely and helped the other masturbate. Obviously, nothing came out of it, and you don’t think Taehyung needs to know that. Not with the way his face lights on fire at the mention of you with Namjoon.

So, with nothing to say to him – you hook a finger up his choker and pull his face close to yours.

“I’m ready to be yours.” You whisper before kissing the frown away.

He reciprocates immediately, his hand being placed on your hips and drawing you into him. The kiss is electric, lasting for a few seconds before he moves his mouth into your neck. His hands trace over your dress, from your curves down to your ass before he grabs it gently.

“I really like this dress,” He mutters into the skin of your neck “Green is my favorite color.”

“I can’t afford s-something like this- ah. It’s- mm- Yujin’s.” You sigh

“Hmm,” He looks back up at your face making you blush, “Looks like I’ll have to buy you a whole new wardrobe then.”

Trailing his hand up your back, he finds the peak of the dress’ zipper. He pinches the zip, dragging it down your torso until it ended just above your bottom. Then he takes a step back, placing both of his palms on the edge of your shoulder. Without breaking eye contact, he slips the dress down your arms until it falls to the ground, pooling around your ankles.

Your breath is steady as you stare at him, watching in slight nervousness as he takes you all in.

That was the thing about Taehyung. You were always so worried about he thought, especially about you. Even though you visited the dorms often, he was always the member the most out of reach. He was like an expensive bottle of cognac, like the brightest star on top of the tree. Compared to the members, he was the most celebrity-like. Whenever Namjoon mentioned him ‘talking’ to someone, you always imagined some sexy, gorgeous model-like person. Someone similar to him.

And so you felt quite insecure about yourself as he leers at your almost naked form with an unreadable appearance. It makes you tuck a hair behind your ear as you wrap an arm around your abdominal.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he closes in on you, placing your hands back on his clothed chest. He grips your waist, a bit harder this time as his fingers dig into the delicate skin. Taehyung picks you up abruptly and throws you into the large bed in the center of the room, knocking the wind out of you. You barely have time to think before he’s on top you, biting down your jaw and into your neck.

“All of this,” He growls in a deeply furious resonance, “is mine.”

Bending his index finger underneath your bra strap, he gives it a pull, just to let it go in the next second. It lands on your skin with a snap. You flinch, your face twisting in pain as he grins, and arch your back off the bed. Was he always this playful with his lovers? There’s not much time for you to dwell on that as his fingers trace up your exposed back. Working quickly, he unhooks your bra, practically ripping it from your chest as your lids shoot open. He discards the fabric to the side, not caring where it landed with his attention focused solely on you. Your nipples bounce faintly in the cools air while he licks his lips, bending down and taking a bud in his mouth.

As your jaw drops open, you entangle your fingers into blonde locks, pulling slightly as he swirls his tongue around the nipple before sucking your areola. The action has your spine tingling. Your other hand grabs onto his shirt, the silky fabric of the cloth letting you easily slide the edge of your nails throughout the expanse of his back, making him shiver on top of you. He moves his mouth onto the other nipple, using his thumb and index finger to pinch the wet, swollen bud.

“Mmm- Ahhhh…Tae.”

The room was getting blurry, the smoke of yearning in your lungs kept your sentient heavy. Taehyung removes himself with a pop and uses his large, supple hands to mold your breasts. His emission was low and stable as he was in buried in concentration at every curve of your figure – every inch being his to sculpt. You were entranced by his dedication, so delicate and agile. He didn’t look like he was in any rush and you were caught off guard. Expecting him to be uncaring and have you in the way he wanted.

But what you didn’t understand is that Taehyung could play both sides equally well. The man is a master at manipulation – always knows how to get what he wants.

“So perfect.” He mumbles.

There was not an ounce of alcohol in his veins, yet as he continued to stare at you, he felt himself getting lost. Taking the tips of his fingers, he glides them down the middle of your chest, loving the way you sighed at his contact. Your body was a work of art, a Gustav Klimt in the midst of so many Wassily Kandinskys. He stops his digits on top of your clothed core, his breath hitching in his throat when he feels how wet you are.

In embarrassment you recoil, closing your legs together. In return he easily props them open with tender vigor shooting his eyes up to meet yours.

“Don’t ever act that way with me.” He warns, placing two fingers above your cunt over your panties, leisurely dragging them up and down, “Not with me, do you understand?”

All that leaves your mouth are whines of his names, the motion of his long digits making you want to close your thighs again for some friction. But you knew better than that now.

“Do you understand?” He says again in the same lazy tone and you almost cry out of frustration. It was torture how slow he was moving yet just as he wants you to, you don’t move an inch.

Forcing yourself to clear your tangled thoughts, you spill out a pathetic plead, “Ye-Ye- ahhh. Yes! Yes! I understand. Pleasssse.”

The way your voice sounded was frightening to you. You’ve been sexually intimate a handful of times, but this was a whole new world. Never in your life did you ever think you were capable of sounding like such a whore. Nonetheless, when Taehyung smiles at you. Oh, when he smiles like you’ve done such a good job.

You would happily become a whore.

He retracts his hand from your center, gazing down at the large wet patch on your underwear. Slowly, he crouches down, sticking out the tip of his tongue in the direction of your crotch. You anticipate, holding your breath as your pussy clenches around nothing. Thinking about Tae tasting you down there had you leaking like a waterfall.

He finally makes contact with your core and you cry out as you feel his muscle move around your folds, the fabric stimulating the bundle of nerves. It was heaven and hell, half of you wanting him to remove the cloth the other half not giving a fuck. Just wanting to cum.

“Tae, Tae, Tae, Tae.” He had you slurring at the bare minimum. If a sober – less excited you was watching you, she’d close her eyes in humiliation. Which is exactly what you do, but instead for a completely different reason as Tae flattens his tongue on you.

He groans at your taste. “So- mmf- sweet. So good.”

Your fingers pull on his hair, as he moves his nose and mouth around your folds, sucking your slit through the fabric.

“Oooh,” You sob “N-no more teasss- inng.”

Exhaling into your crotch, he sits up with a gratified look on his face, orbs glossy and chest heaving like he was high. In the next second, he was hooking his finger in the waistband of your underwear, dragging it down your legs in a slow yet steady motion. Fuck, you wanted to scream at how long he took at doing everything, but you opt to just squirm around in its place. Annoyance covers your lids as he just laughs, throwing his head back with your underwear reaching just below your knees.

After this was over you were going to kill him.

Finally, to your great pleasure, he removes the garment off your body, staring deep into your soul. Making sure you were paying attention, he bites his lip – winking at you with his ethereal features. God made sure to pay special courtesy to Taehyung when shaping him, you were sure of it. How refined the lines of his eyes were, the high structure of his gorgeous cheekbones and arch of his luscious lips. You just knew he took extra care in making this human beyond divine.

When he has you hypnotized under him like he wanted, he brings your panties up to his face, deeply inhaling your scent.

You gasp at the action. Noting taking your eyes off of him as he groans into your underwear and grabs his bulge.

At this point your pussy was spasming around nothing. And the worst part was that he hadn’t even touched you properly.

“Shhh,” He pats your inner thigh as you shake in the bed, rubbing it up and down. “It’s okay.”

“Taehyung, FUCK…please just fuck me Taehyung ple- AHH”

Your voice wandered off as he abruptly shoved his tongue into you once again, this time going inside of you. Taehyung holds down your quivering thighs as he sucks your juices in. His nails dig into the sensitive skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Growling at your essence, he moves his tongue to lick along your clit using two fingers to push into your pussy, making you cry out. He expertly scissors your insides, moving his digits apart before curling them and licking harder each time you clamped around them. On the other hand, you were a mess. Your eyeballs rolled into the back of your head and you were sputtering nonsense as Taehyung continued to taste you.

“Yes, Oh my God, yes Tae!”

When you were about to cum, he removes himself, emitting the loudest whine from your throat. Hot tears spill down your cheeks and he wipes them away with his hand.

Putting your leg over his shoulder, he coos, kissing your ankles down to your calves. That’s when he finally unbuckled his pants, dragging them down to his mid-thighs. He takes out his dick, the head red and angry with a bead of precum leaking from the slit. With a grunt, he spits into his hand, stroking himself while eyeing your pretty cunt. With a weak conscious, you observe how his fingers glide through his shaft. Sliding over every vein and artery that has you drooling in delight.

“Tell me who you belong to.” He says in a chillingly sunken voice, pupils no longer well-lit.

“Ummh Taeeee.” You weren’t able to comprehend anything except the fact you wanted to be the one touching his dick.

“Say it.” He says again in the same tone, “Say it or you’re never getting this cock.”

Your eyes widen as you hear him. Before today, you ‘ve never been the one to be into such dirty talk. Possessive talk in it’s owned creeped you out. But the last thing you gave a shit about at the moment were your morals, practically throbbing for him to be inside you. So, with your womanhood screaming at you to answer him, you do.

“YES! Taehyung, I belong to you, only you. Please, please, please just fuck me.”

With a dark smirk and a peck on your lips, he lines the head of his dick with your entrance. Entering you calmly. His mouth hangs open as he inches inside you, observing every ounce of your face. The pleasure, the grimace, the lust. All of this belonged to him.

What you felt first was the contrast of your naked – vulnerable torso, to his fully clothed exterior. Unbeknownst to you, he was making a clear statement by keeping his clothes on. Even though the tight pants attached onto his thigh were uncomfortable, it’s still worth it if you know who’s in charge around here. It didn’t seem like you cared about the power dynamic though as Taehyung filled you to the brim. Definitely not as much as he did.

Moaning, you grab onto his arms, your sweaty palms helping his shirt stick onto you and holding your breath as he settles inside. He gives you a minute to adjust, peppering light kisses on your forehead and cheeks. Some part of him believed that he was just dreaming – maybe this one another one of those hallucinations he had about you since you first entered his life. That was another reason he hated you.

Because at night, when he was completely alone after another day of you being over, he would jerk himself off to thoughts about fucking your tight cunt in front of everyone. Letting all the members know, especially the tallest, that you were his as he thrusted into you from behind on the dorm’s dinner table. What he wouldn’t do to see the look on their faces. You were way tighter than he could ever imagine.

And well, at least one part of his wish came true. As you mumble his name and your muscles relax around him, he gradually takes his dick out, his brows furrowing in ecstasy. Then he slams into you again balls deep, making you scream. He repeats that action, over and over until the bed his practically flying in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Ahh Fuuu- Tae, I’m gonna-” You moan out loud, feeling lightheaded from him moving above you and the mattress moving beneath you.

“Not yet,” He commands, “Hold it for me.”

You sob as he continues to push into you at a rapid pace, his thick girth hollowing out your insides. Every time he would hit your cervix, you let out a small scream wrapping your legs firmer around him. There was no way you were going to last, but you had to. So, you clench your abdominal muscles uncomfortably and just cry your heart out. But it wasn’t working, you could still feel that knot inside your gut. With nothing to focus on you look up at his face, feeling surprised to have his hardened stare on you.

“Tae…” You whine, trailing your eyes down his jaw up to his neck. His choker was trembling around at the force of the movements, the fox charm dangling up and down.

Suddenly it leaves your sight, his tan skin, the choker, his misty orbs and his dick. You barely have time to think as you were turned around in one swift motion, eyes now facing the headboard. Taehyung’s muscular arms hold you up by the waist as he shoves into you once again.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” He repeats with every thrust while you have our jaw hanging open and spit dripping down your chin.

“Tell me who you belong to,” He snarls almost inhumanely, “Say- fuck- who’s bitch you are! Whose whore are you? Who mmh- owns your pretty pussy, huh? Say IT!”

“Oh my God, oh my God, I belong to you, Ahh- I’m yours, your whore…ughhh it’s yours.”

“You’re mine.” He growls before hitting your ass so hard it has you lurching forward and cumming.

Your face lands into the mattress, your cries muffled by the sheets as your body convulses. White spots paint your vision as you feel yourself blackout for a second, air being knocked out of you.

“FUCK!” He roars, still thrusting into you a few more times before he settles all the way inside your tight walls and shoots his cum deep within you.

Taehyung falls down next you, staring at the white ceiling of his apartment. It takes him a while to get himself together, his chest heaving and mind hazy. With a curse, he removes his leather pants off his legs completely and throws them to the side, sighing in relief.

Then he glances at you, who’s heavily breathing in the same position. Face planted on the bed with your ass in the air. He moves his arms around you, gently shifting you over until your back collided with his chest. Running a hand through your hair, he pats your stomach that’s aching from how hard he was gripping it. Kissing over the bite marks at the conjecture between your neck and your shoulder. You whine lowly in thanks at the comfort he was providing your sore muscles.

“You alright?” He asks softly, sounding like a human once again

“I’m great.” You say with a smile as a bit of your energy comes back. Turning on the bed until your face to face with him, you give him a peck on his lips. “That was…”

“Something.” He finishes for you

You laugh, “Yes, something.”

He just stares at you with a grin. An unreadable emotion in his eyes.

“What is it?” You whisper

“Nothing…just your laugh is the most beautiful thing on earth.”

“Oh my God.” You blush as he gives you a boxy smile. So, this is Kim Taehyung of BTS, huh?

“Only laugh for me,” He suddenly says, “You’re mine, after all.”

A strange, uncomfortable feeling washes over you. The words you thought were just bedroom talk making an appearance in the moment after made you mildly lose your smile. It was really weird how he kept making an emphasis on that while fucking you anyway, until you lost yourself and agreed. But those kind of things happen with sex right? It’s normal. However, how are you supposed to deal with them after sex?

Maybe you were making a big deal out of nothing. His face was spirited, so he was just joking around. He’s not serious, you tell yourself…hoping you were correct.

“Sure.” You reply casually, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him to stop him from saying another odd thing. It was going to ruin the mood plus the start of whatever this new thing was between you both.

It works, as he quickly holds onto you securely and licks into your mouth. You focus on how good it feels to caress his tongue with yours, ignoring the part of him repeatedly uttering ‘mine’ into your mouth.

You gasp as you feel his erection on your thigh, moving back to see the smirk on his face as he grabs your sore ass with his palm.

It was going to be a long night.

You woke in a sunny room to hear the shower running.

It took you a minute to figure out where you were since you did have a bit to drink last night. That’s why there was a small headache forming behind your eyes. A strumming passing through you the more conscious you become.

You smile.

That’s right, this was Kim Taehyung’s bedroom. The man you just fucked last night. The guy you’ve had a crush on for 4 years now. What a champ you are! With an inhale you sit up, hissing instantly at your sore hips. Boy, did you two fuck last night.

What were you both now? Friends? Lovers? You could never be sure with that Gucci loving kid, but you weren’t too concerned seeing as how you had the rest of the morning to talk about it.

You whine as you rub your bottom, cringing as you think about how awkwardly you’d be strutting for the rest of the day. As you check the time on his digital clock, you thank god today was your day off or else your company would’ve had your head. No class today either, how perfect.

Leisurely exhaling, you decide to get up and maybe join Taehyung in his shower. A smirk rests on your lips. He’d like that, right?

Before you can think any further about getting frisky with the blonde man, you notice your green dress still on the floor.

You gasp.

Yujin!

Looking around the floor you spot your handbag by the corner of the doorway. How did it get there and when did you drop it? In a flash, you rush to pick it up, walking back towards the bed butt-naked as you dig through it. You fish out your phone as you get by the bed. Facing the large window by the nightstand.

Pursing your lips, you open the screen recoiling at how many missed calls there were. Yujin tried calling you two to three times and texted you once. Then you’re guessing she reached out to Namjoon who was blowing up your phone the entire night! With his last call being at 5:17 in the morning.

You wince. Great. Last night you had put your phone on silent because recently a spam call had been terrorizing you. Though, after you stepped out of your front door, you should have made sure to turn the sound back on – for safety reasons, but you completely forgot.

What if you got stuck inside a house with a creep? The thought alone makes you shudder.

Whatever, it’s not that bad. You’ll just let Namjoon know you’re ok. There weren’t any reasons for you to tell him where you were – or who you were with so you’ll just leave that part out. For now.

Unlocking your phone, you click your messages app to send Namjoon a quick ‘I’m good. Had a fun night😉’ You’re concentrated on typing, hearing the little ticks every time you click the screen, which is why you don’t notice the bathroom door opening and steam charging out of it, warming up the room. Taehyung, with a towel hanging around his waist, softly steps close to your figure facing away from him – before he tackles you into a back hug.

It was a sight he could get used to. Your beautiful naked form, lounging around his house covered with his marks. He groaned into your skin. Fuck breakfast, he was ready for the fifth round.

“Oh!” You let out in surprise.

“Good morning.” He says, peppering kissing into your neck and tracing over his lovebites with the tip of his tongue. You shift your head to the side to allow him a better angle.

“Good morning.” You reply back in giggles as you continue typing.

For a moment he just stands there, rocking you back and forth with his large arms wrapped around your waist. When he detects that you’re not paying him any attention, he pouts. Putting his chin on your shoulder to see what was keeping you from him.

“What’re you doing?” He whines in your ear in annoyance

“Oh, Namjoon texted me a few times last night but my phone was on silent,” You should’ve noticed how dark his eyes got, how quickly his smile left him for something else – something more sinister. But you were too distracted typing out a reply to your freaked-out friend.

“I’m just letting him know I’m-”

Suddenly he removes his arms off you and your phone gets snatched away from and you watch it be thrown across the room. Crashing into the wall and making an awful cracking sound. In shock you stare at the place it was thrown at, processing what just happened.

“I’m really sick and tired of Namjoon’s name coming out of your mouth.” Taehyung sneers, getting into your personal space.

There was still nothing registering in your mind as you heard the anger in Taehyung’s voice. You turn around with your brain in a muddled mess. It felt like the alcohol was finally hitting you.

Taehyung stood there in pure, unadulterated rage. He’s been this way with you many times…but this time it’s different. There was something off about the way he towered over you. It rattled your bones, your defense mechanisms kicking in, making you shift your feet towards the exit.

“Wha-”

“You wish it was him, don’t you? You wish he was the one fucking you in the bed for hours! You wanted him to mark you up – make you his pretty little cumslut! You wanted to scream his name as you came for the fourth time! DIDN’T YOU?!”

Spitting into your face, he grabs your cheeks with his oversized hand and let’s his nails dig into your soft skin in a fury. There’s nothing but madness swirling inside his pupils. You set your hands on his wrist, trying to pull him off. It was fruitless as he didn’t budge, just continued to fan your face with hot, weighty breaths. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as your heartbeat accelerated. In that moment all you could think about was getting away from the blonde.

With the last exert of your strength, you somehow you manage to push him away from you. As soon as you do, your palm makes contact with the taller man’s cheek. The sound echoes throughout the room, making you back away from him even further. Slowly his skin becomes rosy, an ugly handprint forming across his cheek as he raises his head back up to look at you. You emit a gasp, the tears from before pouring out your sockets.

There was absolutely nothing in his eyes – in his face. No pain, no anger…there was absolutely no emotion. You were frightened by his sudden cold exterior. It was as if he was a hollow shell. An empty soul. He seemed…insane.

“You’re crazy.” You mumble, but you knew he heard it.

For a second it feels like there was something that flashed across his eyes. Something akin to pain, but you didn’t care. You needed to get the hell out of here, so you looked away from him and searched the bedroom. Grabbing your purse, you pick up your dress from the floor and ran to where he threw your phone. Picking it up, you open it to see that’s still working with just a small fracture on the bottom edge of the screen. You’ve never been more thankful for having a phone case. With that you quickly run out of the room, not caring about your undergarments.

In the hallway, you haphazardly throw on your dress while sniffling. The apartment no longer entranced you, instead you felt suffocated and frightened. He…wouldn’t run after you would he. God, please no. Grabbing your phone, you hesitate whether to call Namjoon…but somehow decide against it. The one thought in your mind was to get away from this place – get away from him. You flinch as you think you hear Taehyung call out your name and rush towards and out the door, not waiting for what he had to say.

Not looking back.

Taehyung was a mess.

It had been a few weeks since your abrupt departure and he couldn’t get you out of his head.

Actually, he hasn’t gotten you out of his head since he first saw you, but this time it was worse. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see your teary face and the absolute disgust for him swimming in your irises. It hurt him so much. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was the day he finally held you in his arms just for you to run off.

Because of his terrible health habits, he had been looking extremely tired for the past few days. His face was molded into permanent indifference, a pathetically downcast expression on his lips. He knew the fans had noticed, a couple of them made fanclub posts about it. But he honestly couldn’t find it within him to give a fuck. His manager and the members had all been worried for him – asked him if something’s wrong multiple times but he continued to brush them off. For some reason he found it difficult to communicate with anyone that wasn’t you at the moment.

And you definitely weren’t around. So where does that leave him?

Taehyung wondered if you’ve been doing well, compared to him. Since you wouldn’t want to see him, he hasn’t tried to go visit you. Even though he was dying to see you – basically killing himself – he just couldn’t do that to you. Instead he texted you a bunch of times, tried to call you in numerous ways and even asked Namjoon of your whereabouts daily. All he wanted to tell you was that he was willing to change for you, only if that’d get you to come back to him. There was a lot he would do if it meant you would look at him again. Yet nothing came of it, not even Namjoon could get ahold of you.

He resorted to desperate measures to remove you from his mind. Tried to hook-up with other girls, tried to drink the loneliness away, tried hanging out with A-list celebrities – people way more important than a mere college student could ever be. None of that came close to filling the void left in his heart, no drink or famous person could touch his soul. The other girls didn’t compare to you, hell – he couldn’t even get it up with them! Soon there’d be an article in some C-grade gossip column about how Kim Taehyung of BTS was sexually impotent, he just knew it.

All of his methods didn’t do anything but get him into trouble from his company.

With nothing to take out his frustration on, Taehyung began to utilize what secular part of you you left behind. Your panties. Every night, drunk and alone in his bedroom – he would stuff your delicates into his mouth, stroke himself in harsh paces and imagine fucking the daylights out of you while crying out into his dark apartment. Other times he would wrap the fabric around his shaft, gently stroking his dick until he came by thinking about making sweet love to you. Your soft hair, the glow of your plump lips, your wet folds. He really missed you. It made him a mess.

This is all your fault! See, this is exactly why he hated you. Because you found a way to entrap him into your little game and now he was obsessed with you. You! Who didn’t even care! That one night meant everything to him and you had just disappeared like it was nothing. A simple bump in the road. Taehyung was mentally exhausted.

That’s why as he was performing their newest song – some EDM track that had a difficult dance attached to it, he was making so many mistakes that he wasn’t able to count them anymore. Because of him, the course of the movements had fallen apart and none of the members seemed to be doing as well as they practiced. He just didn’t have the ability to concentrate; the bright stage lights and the overwhelming atmosphere couldn’t bring him back to reality. Instead made him dizzy the more he moved around. The members were trying hard to make up for most of his errors, especially Jungkook who was performing some of his parts for him. Even in front of millions of fangirls all he could think about was you.

Namjoon was glaring at him through the whole performance. The older man only smiling once it was his solo part in front of the camera. He ignored most of it, but it still made him a tad furious. After all, Namjoon was the reason he was in this predicament.

As soon as the performance ends, Taehyung rushes off the stage while the others chat with their fans for a bit. Everyone behind him makes a fuss, angry and sad chants from both the crowd and his members annoy him. Backstage he continues pushing past the staff and the managers coming scold him. All he wanted to do was get a drink of water.

When he gets in the waiting room, he sighs in relief to find it empty. The senior stylists must’ve head up stage to retouch the member’s makeup in case of another retake. He walks to the table filled with refreshments, grabbing the nearest water bottle and twisting the cap open carelessly.

The cap falls to the ground but he just proceeds to drink the cool liquid and drown out his tension. As he’s halfway through, he hears another presence’s shoes stepped into the room.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

It’s Namjoon.

Well, maybe Taehyung should’ve expected this. He was the leader and all. Namjoon had no choice but to make sure the members performed without trouble. Or he’d be the one to get it.

“What do you mean?” Taehyung replies nonchalantly. Going back to drinking his water as Namjoon steps up close to him, the man’s musk filling up the room.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Listen, if you’re talking about the performance- I’ve just been having a hard time lately an-”

“That’s not what I mean,” Namjoon growls making Taehyung glance at him for the first time since he came in. “I’m not stupid Tae, you’re acting up around the same time ___ refuses to answer any of my calls. Something she’s never done before.”

He looks towards the floor for a second before looking back up at the blonde with wide, angry eyes.

“Did…Did you do something to her?”

Taehyung tries to keep his cool. It was hard to do that with your name coming out of the elder’s mouth. Even though he tries to be level-headed, he can’t help the mocking sneer that breaks past his lips.

“I slept with her.” Taehyung says, subtly trying to mark his territory

In an instant, Namjoon is upon him. Grabbing his collar and pushing him against the wall, where his head collided hard with the off-white cement. Making him wince.

“YOU BASTARD. I swear to God if you’re just taking advantage of her-”

“STOP TALKING LIKE THAT. LIKE YOU OWN HER.” Taehyung spits back, “She belongs to me, she’s mine.”

For a second, he thinks he’s won as Namjoon loosens his grip on his collar and stares into his orbs in bewilderment. A small smirk presents itself on his face at his victory, before the irritation in Namjoon’s face comes back, as he grits his teeth.

“You think you’re special just because you made her cum?” Namjoon says in a low, steady tone of voice

Taehyung’s smile falls

“You’re late but…welcome to the club.” Namjoon lets out his own cocky smile directed at the younger, watching the way his eyes widen almost dramatically.

Namjoon lets go of his collar, scoffing before walking away from the man. He knew he was being a bit childish and you’d probably kill him if you ever found out about this but he was too pumped up to care at the moment.

As he gets to the end of the room, he stops and places his hand on the wall by the entryway.

“By the way,” He peeks over his shoulder “Get it together out there. We’re doing another take in 5.”

With that he leaves the room.

Taehyung stands there, staring at the spot where Namjoon once stood with inexplicable emotions.

Even though Namjoon has supposedly won this conversation, what he failed to acknowledge was the absolute fury in Taehyung’s eyes.

Pure rage flowed through his veins as Namjoon’s words replayed over and over in his head. Did he just imply that he…slept with you? That he got to taste your sweet cunt? That he ran his fingers over the expanse of your silky skin? He got to fill you to the brim – got to mark you up with his pretty littles stars?

That he touched what belonged to Taehyung?

He roars in agony, throwing his water and flipping over a table of refreshments. Everything clatters and bangs until he’s left observing the mess littering the floor. His breathing is uneven as his pupils become unfocused. The whole room was suddenly spinning and he stumbles in place for a bit as he feels like the walls are closing in on him. Grabbing his forehead, he blocks his vision with his clothed arms.

He touched something of his, he sullied his property and Taehyung couldn’t stand it. In the middle of his havoc, it hits him like a ton of bricks. What kind of a man had he become in the present years? Is this the values his father instilled in him? Is this how he’ll waste his blood, sweat and tears? In the large waiting room, it felt as if the temperature dropped below freezing as Taehyung straightened himself out - holding onto his dignity with a new-found cause.

He wasn’t going to let the elder get away with this. He couldn’t. His face was vacant, his throat dry and his orbs deadpan. A horrid idea formulating behind his cold facade.

No…he has to pay. Namjoon’s going to regret ever breathing in your direction when he’s done dealing with Taehyung’s wrath.

Everyone needed to know that Taehyung doesn’t share what’s rightfully his.

Namjoon sighed and stretched his sore tendons as he gazed into the deep blue night.

Everything was a clutter in his life. You wouldn’t pick up his phone or answer his texts. He knew how much he relied on you over the past few years and you always delivered, but this time you went off the grid. Telling him you need some time alone for now. Taehyung, on the other hand was acting like a complete fool. They hadn’t talked since their little ‘run in’ a few days ago with Taehyung missing from the dorms all night. And for the first time since their debut, the members all seemed on guard with one another.

It was silent chaos.

He was just tired, honestly. Sometimes he wishes he could rest his aching muscles, hibernate like a bear and not wake up for a month or two. The leader always has it the worst. Some sunbaes and colleagues have mentioned that to him multiple times and he agrees. Having to keep the group together and remind these fucks that it was literally their job to act professional. If thousands of construction workers can work almost 50 hours a week and still manage to earn less than thirty grand a year, he really didn’t see how a bunch of rich idols on stage could have this much trouble performing properly.

It’s literally the least they could do.

Taehyung had always been sort of a brat. His parents favored him the most, so he’s been spoiled since birth. Once he decides something was his, there was no turning back. Maybe Namjoon would sympathize with him more if he calmly spoke about his possessive issues rather than shout the head off anyone who touched anything of his.

And now he had slept with you.

Shit. This was the worst part. Namjoon knew how Taehyung got around lovers. Rather than humans, they became solely his property – for his own pleasure and needs. He dreaded to think that would become your fate as well, so out of slight childishness he might’ve revealed to Taehyung about that one mutual masturbation memory. Although vaguely.

It honestly meant nothing, he was just trying to protect his oldest friend. He thought if maybe Taehyung found out you were ‘tainted’ by him, he would back off. There would be no interest in him for you any longer, so he wouldn’t dare treat you like an object.

At least that’s what he was shooting for.

With a heavy breath, he stands up off the bench pressed into the grassy roots of the lake’s shore. He peered off into the distance, the serene blue water and faint frog croaks made him break out into a dimpled smile. This was his favorite place. Like Taehyung, everyone has something they dislike sharing right?

For him it was this lake. It was his secret spot. Whenever his mind got too crowded and even breathing gave him a headache, he would come here and watch his worries disappear down into the clear water for a while. The lake always reminded him that he was small, that his tensions and problems were all too small compared to the big wide universe.

It made him think. Perhaps he overreacted and lost his cool there for a second. If Taehyung wanted to date you, it’s not his business to meddle in. You were a grown woman – no matter how young you’d stay in his heart – you could take care of yourself. He’s watched you grow from a tiny snot-nosed girl into a bright young lady with a sharp mind and tender soul. He should trust you.

And Taehyung. Wide-eyed, boxy smiled Taehyung was his brother. A man he’s shared much laughter and tears with, a man he’s shared a room with. These years were never easy, but the blonde always knew how to make Namjoon’s day a tad brighter. He should trust Taehyung.

You were his family, after all.

With a new-found mindset, he smiles, turning away from the water to come home to both of you. He begins walking on the grassy path, which led into the trees. It was an especially dark night, there was only so much he could squint and see. The parking lot was located on the other side of the road, as the lake area was surrounded by large oak trees.

There weren’t many people that came here on a Sunday at midnight, which is why it was his favorite time to roam around the area. Some people would mistake it as abandoned with how there were no street lights or rest areas nearby.

As he treads by the trees, he thinks he hears someone stepping on a twig behind him. He stops, turning around into the black forest anxiously. It was too dark to see, so he quiets his breathing, trying to hear any sounds lurking in the branches. A soft wind blows in his face as he can feel himself turning pale.

Nothing. There was no sign of any life.

Even though he’s kind of frightened, he reasons with himself. Animals like squirrels or ducks surround the lake and any one of them could be roaming about. Right?

…But what kind of a squirrel wanders about at 12:34 AM?

Turning back around, he quickens his steps. Ready to get the hell out of here. Because he just watched a horror movie last night, his mind was racing with crazy scenarios.

What if a serial killer roams this lake at this time of night? And he just happens to stumble upon an idiot named Namjoon – or should he say his NEW VICTIM? Who knows what really is beneath that deep murky water? A monster who scours the premises for fresh meat?

Why didn’t he think of any of these issues that could occur with going into a basically deserted side of the city – with a great spot for hiding bodies, let’s point that out – in the middle of the night, beforehand?

When he makes it to the road clearing, he almost cries out of relief. He slows his pace, twisting his body back towards the forest to make sure no one was following him. As his shoes hit the gravel, he can hear himself starting to breathe again. It was still too dark to see, but at least there were no large pieces of bark obstructing his vision.

He was too focused. Too concentrated on the view in his rear to see where he was going.

Too preoccupied to notice how slow he was walking.

He couldn’t hear the lull of the engine. Instead his breath hitching when he catches the leaves of the shrubs ruffling. Halfway through the road, and still looking back. His throat constricting as he sees the fluffy white egret step out from beyond the horde of bushes behind him. Everything goes in slow motion as the bird’s chirp registers in his mind.

He was just too focused on the place he shouldn’t have been.

So, when he finally looked back on the road to spot the car without headlights, heading towards him with full speed-

It was too late.

You had gotten the call an hour ago, and you dropped everything to get to him.

Every single feeling in your leg had left long ago. The muscles in your arms were aching and your voice was hoarse from you wailing in the car. There was an overpowering agony moving throughout your body without consent and you found yourself hyperventilating. As you rush up the stairs – too impatient to wait for an elevator – you trip over a step and catch yourself on your hands, facing the grounds of the stairway.

This isn’t real. This can’t be happening.

You take a moment to catch your breath, getting up and running up the steep steps once again. Letting the sensation of being petrified fuel your adrenaline.

He had called your friend. How he got her number, you don’t know. Too distracted by the message the girl came into your dorm room to tell you.

“Taehyung called me! Namjoon’s hurt. It’s bad – they have him in the secret emergency room at Seoul Hospital-”

You didn’t even wait for her to finish her sentence before you bolted out the door. Through your hysterics and terrible traffic, you somehow managed to make it here in once piece. Thankfully, the media hadn’t been informed yet, everyone keeping the top star’s whereabouts strictly confidential. The nurses were rude when you questioned them about Namjoon’s situation, suspected you as a stalker fan and almost had you kicked out of the hospital until Manager Sejin vouched for you. Sejin was in the lobby, holding half full water bottle and had the biggest bags underneath his eyes.

You pleaded with him, begged him to tell you what was going on, but he just stood there facing the floor. With no time to waste on his futility, you barged into the staircase to find your Namjoon.

This couldn’t happen. You couldn’t lose him. He was your tall and goofy best friend. A clumsy yet handsome older brother. He was your family. Guilt dances across your brain at ignoring him this past week. The timing of this tragedy could not get any worse.

When you finally make it to the emergency surgery floor, you barge in – tripping over your own legs.

As you stand up on wobbly legs, Taehyung’s wide eyes make contact with yours. You run up to him like an insane patient, grabbing his arms.

“W-w-what did the doctor say? How is he? WHAT’S GOING ON.”

“Shh, shh,” Taehyung grabs your arms back, “Calm down, it was a hit and run. Driver got away and a local merchant driving by found him on the road. The surgeon’s in there right now. He’ll let us know how he is in a while. Shh.”

With his words you finally allow yourself to breath gain. Loud cries leave your lips as you clench your eyes shut. Taehyung pats your head, trying to calm your down.

Rubbing your teary eyes, you look around the empty waiting room in confusion.

“Where are the others?”

“I sent the members home, they’ve been up all day. They were reluctant but I told them I’d stay behind no matter how long it takes. His parents are catching the next available flight. They’ll be here by tomorrow morning.”

You steady your exhales as you listen to him speak, “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“I did. You didn’t pick up. I had to somehow find Yujin’s number and tell her to tell you.” He states calmly

His maturity in this whole situation embarrasses you. Why had you been acting like such a brat to everyone in the past couple of days? Ignoring texts and phone calls. Cutting off contact with your best friend. Just because of a small misunderstanding between you and Taehyung. What was wrong with you?

“Taehyung…I’m sorr-”

The door of the surgery room opens, making your words hang in midair. The doctor comes out looking tired, removing his face masks and gloves in the entranceway. Letting go of Taehyung, you rush up to him.

“Doctor, h-how is he?”

Taehyung tsks under his breath as you leave his side immediately for news on Namjoon. A dark cloud gathers around his head as his eyes pierce the place you once stood with hate. He turns around carefully, masking his malevolent expression with that of worry.

Years of idol training had paid off well.

“He’s fine for now,” The doctor states in exhaustion, “He was hurt pretty badly, the back of his cranium had fractured slightly, and he broke his left arm and four ribs. We’ve managed to stitch up most of his open wounds but there was a lot of internal bleeding. We’ll have to wait through the night for signs of his progress.”

The doctor pats your shoulder, before walking around you towards the end of the hall. You stand there in shock for a couple of seconds before turning around to face Taehyung. All it takes is for you to see the pain in his pupils before you run into his arms, holding him in a tight grasp.

You cry into his chest as Taehyung wraps himself around you and continues to pat your head.

“Shhh, he’ll be okay. It’ll be alright.” Taehyung coos into your hair, as your tears soaked through his shirt.

What you don’t know is about the wicked smirk gracing his features as he stares a hole through the door of the room that contained Namjoon. His plan had gone way better than he had hoped, and you were finally here beside him once again.

He has to admit, he was scared of getting caught. Who else would have known about his location except his previous roommate who’s he’s shared drunken secrets with. But he knew there was no way Namjoon had seen anything in that dark road and he knows no one would suspect him, his own brother, for trying to kill Namjoon. He was restless all morning, even skipped breakfast and for what? Everything went perfect.

Taehyung smothers your trembling form, running his hands up and down your back for comfort.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do now. Should he wait for Namjoon to die? Maybe help him along the way? Or should he let him live and let this be a lesson to him?

Backing up, he cups your face in his hands. You were broken, continuing to weep as you settled into his fingers. Kissing your forehead, he rubs his thumbs across your cheeks, wiping away all the tears.

Well, whatever he decides to do can wait. Right now, your being nearby was all that mattered. In the end Taehyung wonders if he’s ever hated you. I mean, how was he supposed to know the one he hated was the man he shared a table with? The man who he shared a bed with out of scarcity? Maybe, subconsciously Taehyung hated sharing with the taller man at all. So much so, that all the distribution piled up in his mind until he could no longer stand it.

Maybe he hated how Namjoon took advantage of your generosity, knowing you were a busybody with a help everyone mentality painted across your forehead. He hated how many hours you spent talking to him. Going on and on about God knows what. And he absolutely despised how much time he got to spend with you on an average basis.

Maybe sleeping with you was just the last straw. He was done giving Namjoon anymore chances.

“Taehyung…stay with me tonight.” You whimper to him and he can’t tell those doll eyes no.

They’re his doll’s eyes, aren’t they?

“Of course, baby.” He replies in a low voice, smiling as you hug him once again.

It was all starting to make sense now. Namjoon was fighting for his life while you were holding onto Taehyung for dear life. This is karma for trying to take what belongs to him. Because at the end of the day, everyone knows Taehyung doesn’t give away his possessions. That he protects his property in his own twisted way.

He can’t help but think this is what the older man deserves – this that Taehyung shall refer to as Namjoon’s fair share.

After all, Taehyung hated him for many reasons.

#BTS #Taehyung #Yandere BTS #Yandere Taehyung #BTS Smut #Taehyung Smut #Taehyung x Reader

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