#anyways everyone play tell me why but ask me for a trigger list first

[kirkwallsquad]

i feel like this is the perfect sweater to wear with a binder, like… im so happy w how my chest looks here 😭 everyone thank tyler tellmewhy okok

(sweater reads fireweed juvenile center btw, it‘s from insertcoin and references the game tell me why which im only allowed to play when i can handle wanting to cut my tits off and/or starting t)

[farfromstrange]

Just Let Me Love You | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (f!Reader heavily implied)

Summary: You're struggling with your body image and Matt notices

Warnings: Angst, TW: allusions to an ED, self-deprecating talk (Reader has internalized fatphobia toward herself), not proof red (I was too emotional for that)

Word Count: 2.1k

A/n: So, my body is changing and I hate it. As someone who was the Fat Funny Friend growing up, I got inspired by the song. Now I wasn't sure if to tag for a plus-sized reader because when I wrote this, I had myself in mind, and I'm not even sure what "category" I fall into, so this is pretty universal and I think any of you who are struggling with body dysmorphia might appreciate this. Heed the warnings before proceeding and don't forget to eat if you haven't already! (Also, I used my tag list to tag for this, but don't read it if this triggers you, please!)

Our brains are wired to function in a certain way. But not every brain is balanced in chemistry. 

For the longest time, she thought there was something seriously wrong with her. She never fit in anywhere, so she tried to make herself fit. Change her attitude, change her behavior, change her hobbies, and change the way she looks. She did it so many times, she lost count. 

She relied on humor, telling funny little anecdotes to make whatever friend group she was a part of at the time laugh at her. But that was all she could do. Make them laugh. She lit up the mood, lit up the room, but she seemingly never lit up anyone’s heart the way her friends did. 

They talked about their relationships, talked about their families and friends, and she played along. She listened. When she talked about her likes, they pretended to care, but within minutes, they lost interest. She thought it just wasn’t that important. Not as important as how beautiful they all were, anyway. And they were striking, she thought. That’s why everyone always chose them and never approached her. But she swallowed it to at least be a part of something. 

She always helped everyone but herself. She was there when no one else was, but even when she was a part of something, she never fully fit in. There was an impossible standard looming over her head, and she couldn’t possibly reach it. 

Don’t be too loud. Don’t be too silly. Don’t say no. Don’t talk about your problems, only listen to everyone else’s. Don’t believe that he wants you because he is too good for you, and all he wants is your best friend who is ten times prettier than you. And don’t believe that personality and humor will get you anywhere; you will end up miserably alone the same way people who look like you always will. 

The same voice, over and over again. Word turning into knives. It was exhausting to fight against the demons within her because they just sounded so damn convincing. 

When she met him, the man who stole her heart, she never thought he would ask her out. When he did, she was dumbfounded. In every possible situation, he found himself assuring her that he wouldn’t drop her for the pretty blonde in the office, or his psychotic ex-girlfriend who just happened to have the most beautiful body known to man. To her, at least. Everyone around him was just so beautiful, and he was even more so–he was the prettiest specimen in the world, and everyone desired him. Of course, she grew insecure. She couldn’t help it. It was a reflex.

She fell in love with a man who finally saw her for who she was and he loved her despite—no, he loved her regardless. For who she was. He took her, accepted her, and began seeing her as the most beautiful person in the world. For the first time, she felt appreciated, loved, and not so miserably alone. 

Yet, the fear continued to linger. The fear that one day, he would notice that perhaps, a woman of average looks wouldn’t be enough for him anymore. That she was, indeed, as unconventionally unattractive as everyone said she was from the first day she actually understood what was being said to her. She was just a child then. 

The funny friend. The awkward friend. The weird one. The girl without real friends. The girl with the silly clothes, the silly smile, the slightly crooked teeth, the belly pouch… The girl who lost weight, the girl who gained weight, and the girl who shouldn’t be so proud of herself because she had nothing to be proud of. 

“Sweetheart?” he asked her, yanking her out of the downward spiral that only continued to get worse over time. “Did you have anything to eat yet?”

He stood in the kitchen, the sleeves of his dress shirt bunched around his elbow. It was hot outside, too hot for her liking, and even his clothes were slightly stained with sweat. 

She looked up from the couch, still wrapped up in a blanket despite the high temperatures, a book resting on her thighs. He met her eyes with a smile. 

“I noticed your leftovers are still in the fridge. Could smell them,” he clarified. “I was just wondering whether that was on purpose or not.”

Worrying fit it better, she thought to herself. He always worried too much. 

She closed her book. “I might’ve forgotten,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

His eyebrows furrowed. “You forgot?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it never reached his eyes. 

“Yeah. I probably got too caught up reading or something. It’s no big deal. I’ll eat later. Or drink another latte.”

He hummed. “You know, iced coffee is not considered a healthy diet. Your body needs fuel.”

“Jesus Christ, Matt,” she raised her voice, “I’m okay!”

“You don’t look okay,” he stated as a matter of fact. 

“And how would you know?”

“I just do.”

He approached, his muscles straining against his shirt. It wasn’t fair, how good he looked. How well he carried himself. And he still had the audacity to look at her and tell her she had much more going for herself than just her humor. That she was beautiful. Pretty enough. 

“Hey,” Matt lowered himself on the couch beside her, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?”

“I forgot to eat, I told you,” she said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“Not if you did it on purpose.”

The book landed on the coffee table and she got up, pacing the small space of their shared apartment in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. He could hear her heartbeat pounding against her ribcage, the pent-up tears, and the tension, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out. But he waited. He gave her the space she needed to collect her thoughts.

“I forgot,” she repeated. “At first. And then I just happened to pass by a mirror and…and I looked at myself. I mean, really looked at myself.”

“Oh–” He sighed. “Baby…”

“I’m smaller when my stomach is empty, you know. And I thought it wouldn’t hurt me to, uh…cut back a little?”

He was about to respond, but she cut him off. “I don’t mean that I’m starving myself. I just…I forgot to eat, and then, when I remembered, I remembered what I saw and I was just…I’m not hungry anymore. I…I don’t think it’s a big deal. I’m not doing it on purpose, I’m just…”

She stopped pacing. She met his unfocused hazel eyes that held so much pain when he looked at her. He reached out, not saying a word, and she extended her shaky fingers toward the lifeline he was throwing. 

“Oh, God,” she whispered. She realized then why he looked so hurt. “It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

The question hung in the room as he pulled her toward himself. 

She didn’t protest when he pulled her back onto the couch, his arms engulfing her and pulling her back against his sturdy chest.

“What makes you think that you need to hurt yourself to fit some unrealistic beauty standard?” he asked softly, his voice merely a breath tickling her ear. 

She whimpered, not wanting to answer. 

“What makes you think that not being healthy is the solution to the way you see yourself? Wouldn’t that just make it worse?”

“I just…” She took a deep breath. “I just… I just want to be enough.”

“But you are enough,” he answered in a heartbeat, placing his hand on her neck and turning her face to him. He missed her face with his gaze, but she could still feel him in every fiber of her being as he sat there and felt her pulse, and she matched her breathing to his. 

A tear rolled down her cheek. “You don’t understand what it’s like,” she whispered back. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be only seen as the comedic relief in every relationship you have ever been in while your friends pulled the guys you wanted. Because they never wanted you, and they never saw competition in you either because you were just never the center of anyone’s attention.”

He was silent for a moment. The taste of her tears reached his tongue, and he visibly recoiled at the pain she held inside of her. Matt pulled her closer, holding her a little tighter. She melted. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of leaving her to deal with her thoughts, he placed his lips against her ear again. “You’re the center of my attention,” he said. “Of my world. My universe. And I couldn’t care less about the way you look.”

“That’s because you’re blind,” she shot back, a sob rippling through her body. 

He shook his head. “No. Those who reduce you to your looks are blind, and they don’t even deserve you in the first place. What matters most is this–” his large hand found its way onto the left side of her chest, above her heart. “What’s in here is what makes you beautiful, not what covers the outside.”

“But that’s not enough, is it?”

“To me, it is.”

“Not to me, Matthew. Like I said, you don’t get it.”

She struggled against his grip, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Then let me rephrase it,” he tried again, pressing his hand further against her chest. “I care more about who you are inside because I love you. But I don’t need sight to appreciate your physical beauty along with the sound of your heartbeat. Your breathing. Your touch. You know why?”

She shook her head. “Enlighten me.”

“Because I can feel you, sweetheart, and you are the most breathtaking human being I have ever had the pleasure of laying my hands on.”

If words were enough to make a person pass out, this would surely have been her breaking point. 

“You mean that?” She turned around, her tears now glistening with a taste of hope. 

He brushed them away with his thumb and nodded. “Every last word.”

Her eyes fluttered closed at the ghost of his touch. “I don’t like my body,” the admission came quietly.

In response, Matt nodded. “I know, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. That body deserves to be loved. You deserve to be loved.”

“I feel like…like I don’t deserve you. I don’t want you to leave me for…for Karen.”

The mention of her name caused him to frown. “Karen?” he asked. She nodded. He sighed, forcing her head to his chest, forcing her to listen to his heartbeat the same way he always did to her. “Don’t even think like that,” he told her. “I would never leave you for someone else. For no one, for nothing. I need you to stop assuming that, sweetheart. It’s not true.”

“It feels true,” she cried. 

His lips brushed the crown of her head. “But it isn’t.”

“But–”

“I love you,” he said, a bit more insistent this time. “Only you. I would rather die than never be with you again. And I mean that. Bring me the poison and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll get on my knees and worship the ground you walk on if that’ll make you believe me, but I won’t leave you.”

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shirt. Matt shushed her, his fingers brushing through her hair. The rhythm was soothing. 

She sobbed until she had nothing left to give. She cried because she knew he was right. She knew she was overthinking, but she was powerless to fight it. He was the only one who could open her eyes, and even then, she more often than not slipped away. She hated it. She hated the way her brain was wired, the things she was taught, and the things she continuously and wrongly kept teaching herself. 

Eventually, though, she slacked in his arms. 

“I don’t really like myself right now,” she confessed. “But I don’t know how to stop it.”

Matt chuckled softly, his chest rumbling. He tilted her chin up. “Then let me help you,” he said. 

“How?” she asked. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a gentle kiss. “Just let me love you.” 

Tagging from Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @ravenclaw617 @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten

[mxdarling]

[FABLE OF THE STARS (2)]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: after reading the first few pages of the fable of stars, you can't help but let yourself be intrigued by even more people who live beyond the stars. let us open your eyes to their story.

ೃ⁀➷: word count: 1.2k

ೃ⁀➷: ref/inspo: fable of the stars #1 | fable of the stars #2

[author’s note:] FINALLY PART 2!! no one really asked for a part 2 but i felt the need to write one plus my motivation is high on hsr anyways, so here i am rushing to finish this before school starts so let's hope this one is written a bit better than the first one CUZZ i didn't proofread shit last time BHDHBD

[part one]

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me.

[warnings:] bad metaphoric writing, bad attempt of character analysis (take this with a grain of salt please), lowercase, not spoiler free, can be considered 'x reader' if you're delulu enough, noah is trying to explain hsr character lore (and failing miserably, once again).

MARCH 7TH, THE WARRIOR

a cute girl who always has her camera with her and enjoys taking pictures of everything around her. according to her, it's good to have a pastime for someone her age, and she's less likely to forget these memories. every photo she takes inside her camera is safely kept close to her heart and in the comfort of her own room, where she can hang it up and smile to herself, hoping to take even more photos while she's around. perhaps deep down there's this inkling fear that one day all those memories she's made with everyone will be forgotten, that these people who've been with her through thick and thin will suddenly become strangers to her.

although she often has a smile on her face, she struggles to find her place in the astral express. in her mind, everyone has a role within the astral express: pom-pom is the conductor, himeko is the navigator, welt is the jack of all-trades, dan heng is the guard, and she is... the warrior. she doesn't necessarily feel nor act like one; warriors commonly don't wield a bow and arrow—rather, they hold their swords with a tight grip, slashing through every obstacle that comes their way, and when faced with a formidable foe, they push forward with bravery in their hearts and end up victorious. one day, she wishes to be just like those warriors, and maybe she'll find her place in the express.

contrary to belief, a cute girl such as herself is very much into mystery novels, especially ones that feature a detective. how they follow the trail of clues to piece together to hopefully solve whatever mystery they're trying to uncover—that's what makes the story so compelling for you. how you can read a clue and not understand its purpose only to realize what the clue meant many pages later, how there's a sense of satisfaction after reaching the end of the protagonist's journey to figure out the truth, how they learned so much about the world around them, their family, their friends, their enemies, their frenemies, but most importantly—themselves. to march, the feeling of needing to find what's inside a mystery is all too familiar, for she—herself—is the greatest mystery.

"a girl who once slumbered in eternal ice and knows nothing about her past. to find out the truth about her origins, she decided to travel with the astral express. as of right now, she has prepared about 67 different versions of her life story for herself."

JINGYUAN, GENERAL OF THE XIANZHOU LUOFU

the "dozing general," a title he's gained through his seemingly lazy demeanor, taking every opportunity to take a nap, spending an awful amount of time in leisure, gradually falling asleep during one of fu xuan's lengthy reasonings of why she should be nominated to generalship, and much more. yet he's much more attentive than he lets out to be, able to perceive the intentions of other people, keeping his cards close to his chest, knowing exactly how to play them at the right moment to catch the other person off guard, and checkmate you when you least expect it.

through his careful management of affairs and wise strategy of leading the cloud knights, the peaceful years seem to stretch into many centuries for the citizens of the luofu. while some have complained that the general feared combat so much so that he rarely resorts to battle it out, yet that couldn't be further from the truth. the reason is simple: he's protective—not corrective; he does not consider saving the xianzhou luofu from disaster at the last minute as a showcase of wisdom. he continues to oversee the xianzhou luofu, using his intellect to cut down on any thorny problems they encounter—like the tip of the sharpest blade.

even then, his renowned abilities as a general and his intellect are nothing against the cruel reality of time. in the past, the high-cloud quintet was regarded as legends during their time, accomplishing countless feats throughout their prime. however, in just less than a hundred years, the five of them soon fell apart. he watched and witnessed the destruction fall upon his very own friends—how, at the very end, he's the only one remaining. fate has been so cruel to other people around him yet somehow spares his out of everyone else, a haunting reminder of his powerlessness against the enemy that is time.

"the divine foresight, one of the seven arbiter-generals of the xianzhou alliance, leads the cloud knights of the xianzhou luofu. a student of the luofu's previous sword champion, though not known for his martial prowess."

JINGLIU, FORMER SWORD CHAMPION

in the present day, her name is one that is considered forbidden, and it has been like that a long time ago. her name has been erased from any sort of history recorded in the public's eye; only those in higher positions or who lived long enough to see the high-cloud quintet in their prime would remember it. remember how she was the one who established that high-cloud quintet, remember how she taught jing yuan the art of the sword and saw the fruits of his effort turn into his glory, remember how many praised her for wielding a sword so impressively, and that the title of sword champion is one she's earned rightfully so. they remembered, for the past can never be truly forgotten.

she recalls the first time she met her student, a young but devious child who had asked the same questions as she did back when she was younger and when her master was still alive. "master, why do you insist on using the sword? aren't there other weapons available you could've used?" he curiously asked during one of their trainings. "that's like asking why poets write poems; there are many ways to express oneself, but this is the only way i express myself," she replies with wisdom, the same kind her master has given her back then. her master is no longer around, though; there is no one to instruct her or provide any more lessons. however, she no longer needs one; the way of the sword has been imprinted into her system so long ago and so many times. she knows everything there is about a sword; they've become a part of her now.

she's has lifted and wielded many swords in this lifetime, and in many battles and wars she's stood side-to-side with allies and her disciple—no matter which way her sword swung, abominations could never escape the death or imprisonment destined for them. she just never thought she'd be pointing the end of her sword towards a lifelong friend in battle. it was during that time that she felt trapped in her own nightmares again, the destruction of her own home caused by that ominous planet, and she was unable to struggle against such a fate. yet as she leaped forward into the battlefield, suddenly familiar words were heard: "i will cut down even the stars in the sky."

"former sword champion of the luofu, and the creator of the cloud knights' legends of undefeated might. now, her name has been wiped from the records, and she is a traitor of the xianzhou walking on the fine line between sanity and mara-struck."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

PLEASE DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION + REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: Din gives you a brief layout of his home.

A/N: Hello lovelies,

Another week, another chapter. It's funny as I'm editing, the story keeps getting longer. Lol.

Just want to remind everyone that the Razor Crest story is going to be a series of short stories dealing with the life of the Razor Crest Ranch, Ann's past and their future.

Once one series is done, there will be a two to three week break before the next series is posted. I hope that made sense.

Love oo.

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warning: feelings of safety, discussions of comm connections, mentions of protection, family endangerment, feelings of mistrust, I think that's it. If I miss anything please let me know.

AO3 Link |   Words: 1,038 |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

THE RAZOR CREST SEVEN

CHAPTER SIX

The way she looked around the room, made Din pause for a brief second. He couldn’t help wonder what exactly had she gone through. Yet, at the same time he had no right to inquire, it wasn’t any of his business to know about her past. 

He pushed the thought aside, as his mind focused back on showing the room.

“There’s a closet right here,” Din motioned to the door to his left, “it’s not very big. There’s some extra blankets and pillows if you need in the bedroom bench” he opened the end-of-bed bench as he spoke, showing off the various blankets and their varying thickness. 

Camilla was an avid blanket aficionado and adamant when it came to blankets, stating over and over again whenever she walked into the house with a newly purchased one, they were a necessity. Each blanket was unique and served a different purpose, just because you might use one in winter, doesn’t mean you would use the same one in spring, and having just one blanket for each season was never enough.  

As I stood in the room, this feeling of complete safety washed over me. I finally felt safe. I’m not sure if it was because of the remote location, or due to the man I met not even an hour ago who was willing to take the chance on me, or because I had an escape route with Cobb and Fenn if I needed. 

For the first time in a long time, I finally was able to let out a breath of relief, tears were welling up in my eyes as a lump formed in my throat, which I quickly tried to swallow down. I didn’t want to cry.

Din watched her not quite able to understand what she was thinking or feeling. There was just a blank expression on her face as she glanced around the room, he couldn’t tell if she was upset or pleased with the room, however, he figured it was better to play it safe and assumed the former, “I’m sorry it’s not more, but feel free to make it your own after you complete your three months.”

“No” I shook my head, turning to look out the window as I discreetly wiped a tear, “No, it’s great. Cozy.” I cursed myself as my voice trembled. I took in a deep breath turning to look at Din, “Thank you. It’s quite lovely.”

The expression on her face stunned him for a second, her face bloomed with joy, the only way he could describe the radiance she seemed to have was that she finally found hope. It made her look enchanting, he glanced around the room focusing his attention elsewhere.  

“I’m glad you like it,” he nodded. 

“Oh, before I forget,” he continued, “personal comms sometimes have a hard time working out here. We have internet which technically should be harder to get out here, but nope that’s easy to access.” He shrugged as she tilted her head at him as to ask why, when he held up his hand, “Don’t bother asking why one and not the other. I have spent a lot of time trying to fix it, so my personal comm could work, but I’ve finally given up. I think it has something to do with the minerals in the mountains that are at my door step. Anyway, there’s a landline in the kitchen, in the bedrooms, as you can see from the one in your room” he motioned with his head to the non-portable comm, “There’s also one in the study, living room and barn. If you ever need to use the phone, you can use one of those, just not the one in my bedroom. After three months, we can talk about getting you a private line, if you wish.”

I nodded in agreement, but really who was I going to call. I couldn’t call any of my friends or family or it would put them in danger, learned that after the first time I tried to leave. It was better not to make deeper connections with anyone, yet Cobb and Fennec both said that now things were different. They’d be able to watch out for me, and provide me a layer of protection I didn’t have before, there was a hope things would be getting better. I still wouldn’t be able to reach out to my family, at least not until they’d be able to set up some way to contact them discreetly, the sheer idea of having that option weighed heavily on my heart. However, it wasn’t important to focus on that, especially since that was not a guaranteed possibility. Instead, what I needed to focus on was the here and now. 

“Appreciate it. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t be entering your room unless it’s to clean or grab the laundry.”

Din simply shook his head, “Not even then.” There was a quizzical expression on her face, ion response to his statement. 

“You don’t have to clean my room, I’ll do it. You can simply leave the fresh bedding on the chair in front of the door to my room. Anyway, laundry room is off the back entrance, and I have a laundry shoot that goes directly into that room. You may find on occasion some dirty clothes or towels in the mud room which is beside the kitchen and in front of the laundry room. We have a storm cellar, filled with essentials for the occasional tornadoes, the entrance is in the kitchen. There’s a faux pantry door, which leads you down there, I’ll show you when you’re ready. It’s also where I keep the wine and liquor.”

“How long could someone stay down there for?”

“Depends on the amount of people, but if it’s two or three people, I would say about four to six months. If there’s more, we’ll go through our rations a lot faster.”

My eyes widened in shock, “How … how big is it?”

“Big enough to house, two bedrooms, washroom, living room, kitchen, study, rec room/work out room and storage room.” Din chewed on the inside of his cheek wondering if maybe he made a mistake revealing too much too soon. 

AO3 Link |   Words: 1,038 |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

@littlemisspascal@sprout-fics@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24 @spicymcnuggies @lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @tortor-mcgee @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @chiyo13

[kimbapisnotsushi]

Hi....Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite anime (can be series or movies) or top 10 favorite manga? And why do you love them? Also, what are your top 5 (or top 7) favorite moments from any anime (can be series or movies) or manga that you loved?

Sorry if I ask too much, feel free if you want to answer both of my questions or just pick either one......Thanks....

aaaahh no i'm so honored to be asked something like this!! these are REALLY hard questions tho LMAO like holy shit i STRUGGLED. i ended up choosing the series/moments that left me with the greatest emotional impact or were really formative during my younger years. this turned into a really long and wordy post so uhhh sorry about that, I would have added more pics but they couldn't all be the same size so i gave up LMAO. Anyways let's get into it!!

TOP 10 ANIMANGA SERIES/MOVIES (in no particular order)

I. HAIKYUU!!

I wouldn't be much of a Haikyuu!! fan if this wasn't number one on the list (even though I said they were in no particular order, haha). With how the anime adaptation is coming along, I do absolutely recommend reading the manga. Aside from the fact that the art is just gorgeous, I love how Furudate puts so much care into the characters and story. The symbolism and poetic one-liners that have no business being in a sports manga are fucking fantastic, the development is great, everyone gets a happy and fulfilling ending, and it all wraps up like an emotional sucker punch to the stomach. I also LOVE that there's so much canon material for fans to play around with, and that there's so much left to the imagination. Haikyuu!! really is just a master class in storytelling and a total dream to analyze.

II. THE NIGHT BEYOND THE TRICORNERED WINDOW

Okay, I lied earlier. I just HAD to put this one second. (I swear after this the order doesn't matter!) It has an anime series and live-action movie adaptation, which I haven't watched, but I've heard that they don't really do the manga justice. Now, I wouldn't really recommend this one to kids, which I guess can be pretty broad or specific based on your definition? Strictly speaking there aren't any NSFW explicit scenes - nobody even gets naked at any point nor is it the hated ecchi style with random underwear/breast shots or whatever - but the two main characters are pretty euphemistic in, say, the first quarter or so of the series.

(Hiyakawa borrows power from Mikado and when that happens the feelings mirror the pleasure of intercourse, to put it bluntly, but that's not something that actually ever happens. Mostly we, the audience, just see Mikado get red and flustered, although Hiyakawa says/does shit to go along with it sometimes. It gets milder -> nonexistent as the plot progresses because that's not really the focus of the story.

Also, if you're sensitive to dubious consent then this probably isn't for you, since a big part of Hiyakawa's arc is learning how to be less fucked-up than he is and he often uses Mikado's power while Mikado tells him to wait or slow down - not because he wants to hurt Mikado or make him suffer, but because Hiyakawa just genuinely doesn't know that it's the wrong thing to do due to his upbringing. I won't go into why for spoiler reasons, but it becomes really clear by the end of the story. For those of you who are willing to look, I'm going to show a couple pics of this in action down below - otherwise, please skip over it and just scroll down to the parenthesis.

I wasn't really expecting to to go as in-depth as I did about this, and I do love this series, but I also want to give fair warning since the way the dialogue and Mikado's expressions are depicted give off a very real sense of urgency that I would hate for anyone to be caught off guard/be triggered by. I'd love to talk more about it if anyone wants to ask, but I've already diverged enough from the original question.

I don't want you thinking that they have an imbalanced toxic relationship in which Hiyakawa has all the power and Mikado is subservient to him, though, because that's not what it is either. Mikado has always been his own person, and Hiyakawa never tries to control him in any way besides from his own misunderstanding of consent. They help each other on equal grounds, but apparently the anime does a terrible job of showing that.

END )

So, why do I love this series? Well, it's modern paranormal/supernatural, which I'm a HUGE fan of. Apparently Gege Akutami (Jujutsu Kaisen author) named it as one of their own favorites, and once you read it you can really see a LOT of similarities. There's a character just like Okkotsu in that they've done REALLY shitty things and don't know whether they deserve to live or not. There's also a lot of learning how to be brave when you've been running scared your entire life and taking back your own control/power through it. And, other than the heavy stuff, it's actually quite funny. There was one moment I wasn't expecting where I actually laughed out loud.

Also, the characters are really compelling! Aside from everything I said about Hiyakawa earlier, he's one of those nonsensical types who says the most ridiculous things with the utmost sincerity and with a straight face. Mikado acts as his opposite - he easily freaks out and is very expressive. Also, the villain? Like holy SHIT. I could go on about them forever. Like. Holy fucking shit. Top-tier how they handled the boss battle because hoooolyyyyyy shiiiiiiit. But I don't want to spoil, so I'll leave it at that.

Also, the background stories for the characters - once you get to them - will break your heart. Yamashita draws really simply, sure, but they have such a powerful way with storytelling that the emotions just hit you like a brick through the window.

Mostly, though, it is a story about healing, and I'm a sucker when a bunch of people who need to heal in different ways because of the same thing all come together and help each other. I can also guarantee a happy ending, so look forward to that!

III. SNOW WHITE WITH THE RED HAIR

Oh, how I love this series. I know the anime hasn't adapted to its current point, so I def encourage you to read the manga even though it's not complete yet either (and I started in like middle school LMAO). Shirayuki was honestly such a huge role model for me growing up - she was smart and pretty and determined and, even when she wasn't so sure of herself, she always wanted to do the right thing. All the characters in the main squad are so lovely and feel like a real family altogether, and I adore every single one of them. It's sweet and romantic and nails nonmagical fantasy worlds right on the head, and I'd LOVE for more people to get on board with it.

(If you need more convincing, there's pirates and festivals and assassins and a character to love for every single person out there. I know Kiki and Mitsuhide are enough to cause a crisis.)

IV. BOYS RUN THE RIOT

OKAY Y'ALL. LISTEN UP. YOU WANT MORE LOUD AND PROUD QUEER REP IN MANGA?? HERE'S YOUR QUEER REP COME AND GET IT.

It doesn't have an anime adaptation so you can't really watch anything and be done with it, but there's only four volumes so it's easy to collect. it's a story about a transgender teenage boy named Ryo who expresses himself through fashion and GOD I love everything about this series. Jin is the BEST ally. It feels like such a warm hug to see something so proudly represented in manga. ALSO Boys Run the Riot started as a prototype one-shot that the author entered into a contest, and in THAT one of the first characters prototype-Ryo comes out to actually reveals to him that he's Korean!! He kept it hidden and changed his name to protect his identity!! Do you know how fucking REAL Keito Gaku was for that!! Like there is a whoooole conversation to be had about that topic but that is not for now!!

Anyways yes Boys Run the Riot makes you want to cheer and scream when everything comes together in the end because it felt like an uphill battle you were holding your breath through the entire time and I LOVE that they get a hopeful ending. Give it a try, I'm BEGGING.

V. CARDCAPTOR SAKURA

Okay, I'm going to be honest: this is pretty much the only series that has a manga AND an anime in which I've only ever seen the anime. I hear it does a pretty good job of adapting, though, so I'm not too concerned about it. (I do plan on reading the manga to catch up to the Clear Card arc.) I'll also admit upfront that since CCS is a kids' series, there were quite a few problems in it that I didn't realize until I was much older and went back to it.

I like that Sakura feels like a very real protagonist. She was scared and wimpy quite often, and as a kid it was really empowering to watch her develop into someone confident of herself and her abilities. She's got such a great supporting crew behind her, too! I especially loved that CLAMP brought in Syaoran and Meilin from Hong Kong - even nowadays, a lot of non-Japanese foreigner animanga characters fall into the American or European category.

Also, Yuki and Touya. Just do it for them. Seriously. You can watch CCS for them and ignore everything else.

Mostly CCS, for me, was fun and magical and a great escape for a little kid who wanted to get lost in a world not too far from their own. Also, it's got that 90s-drawn aesthetic we all know and love.

VI. PLAY IT COOL, GUYS!

Honestly, I love all of Kokone Nata's works so far. She's one of the more modern authors who got picked up on Pixiv, and I'm really looking forward to seeing where she's going. Play It Cool, Guys! is one of my favorites. It's actually a manga in color, and Kokone Nata utilizes it beautifully. She has so many fun characters and makes normal, everyday life seem so bright and fun. And not to sound like a main character, but I'm also a very clumsy, accident-prone person, so it's really nice to be able to see the crew do everything that I do and do their best to overcome them.

I also love how naturally their relationships develop. Like, seriously - how would a high school kid, two entirely separate and totally opposite college students, a late-20s office employee, and a semi-famous author all fall in together?? Everything is up to fate but Kokone Nata has a way of never making it feel forced. It's not at all unreasonable to bump into each other at the bookstore or in the park - especially when we see that they actually DO interact as strangers first who all happen to hang out/live near each other, and they just drift closer when they finally recognize each other. It's so subtle but so amazing to watch in action.

Also, it's very soothing and fluffy and healing and you absolutely do not have to put the amount of analysis I do into it LMAO, so if you ever need a pick-me-up I absolutely encourage this series or any of Kokone Nata's works!

VII. POKÉMON

Yeah, yeah I know. But I couldn't not include another childhood fave!! It was one of the very first I watched and Ash is honestly such a great protagonist and role model for younger kids. Sure, he can be an annoying brat in the ten-year-old way, but he takes losing like a champ and he always tries to do what's right. He was incredibly selfless, kind, and considerate for a character of that age and growing up alongside that really taught me a lot about what I wanted to put out into the world. Watching any episode just makes me feel comforted and like I'm paying an old friend a visit and it will always be in my favorites list. Plus the dub actually has some HILARIOUS lines LMAO.

Also, the Special Adventures manga series by Hidenori Kusaka is a total gem and was my first introduction to fandom, so if you're a Pokémon fan who hasn't read it then I really encourage you to check it out!

(I would like to make a note that I got stuck after this and was kind of fishing around in my head for the last three LMAO)

VII. HIBI CHOUCHOU

This one is one of my favorite high school romance series - it's sweet and fluffy and might be a little cheesy, but the characters are all so lovely and you can't help but want to cheer them on! The plot is kind of ridiculous when you first start it - "all guys instantly fall in love with the super pretty MC who hates the attention and has been declared 'unattainable' because of her distant attitude towards them and ends up falling for the one guy who didn't act crazy-in-love with her from the start" - but it's really heartwarming to see the growth Suiren and Taichi go through. I also really love Taichi because he feels so different and refreshing from a lot of high school romance manga male lead/love interests that I've seen. (Maybe because of the glasses? I can't name any other male lead/love interest with glasses LMAO.) It's such a gentle series and feels like a warm hug, and watching two quiet people find their way together really did wonders for shy high school me.

IX. FADED FIRST LOVE

Oh gosh, this one is SUCH a gem! You know how sometimes people want representation as a sweet story that's not about an identity crisis but just having fun and in love? That's what Faded First Love feels like. It's genuinely funny and sweet, and while Aoki DOES encounter a couple homophobic problems here and there, it's mostly lighthearted and nothing he can't handle with the help of his friends. He and Iida are both learning and doing their best, and it's one of the series I go back to whenever I want a pick-me-up.

X. JUJUTSU KAISEN

I did say before that I was a huge fan of mixing paranormal phenomena with modern settings, and Jujutsu Kaisen is a great example of that. It's crazy how much thought was put into the technical aspects of that world - every time I think about Gojo explaining to Itadori how to channel cursed energy, it makes my head hurt. The monster designs are so creative and the characters are all such a great bunch. I tear up whenever I remember Miwa listening to Mechamaru's voice recording on the plane. What really nailed it as a Top 10 for me was JJK Volume 0, because hooolyyy shiiiit. Okkotsu's growth was FANTASTIC to watch and I LOVE how confident he is now and how he follows the philosophy of "the people I care about care about you" when it comes to Itadori.

So that's it!! God, that was hard. I hope you enjoyed, and for anyone else reading it I hope this encourages you to pick up one or the other!!

Honorary mentions to: Promare, Kimi ni Todoke, From Up on Poppy Hill, Our Not-So-Lonely Planet Travel Guide, Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun, and tbh I'd list more but that would take forever LMAO

This is already a really long post so I'll reblog or make a part two with my fave moments, I'll let you know!

thanks all <333

[c-is-for-circinate]

Wait, isn't "anti" stuff more like "anti-pedophilia" and stuff? Like, you have a point about anti-porn attitudes, but from what I've heard just "anti" on its own means against stuff like kid porn and incest porn and legitimately f*cked up sh*t like that.

Okay!  So this, I think, is actually a great example of what I was talking about, and a really useful thing to understand.  (CW rape, child abuse, etc)

Smarter people than me have written much better essays about why policing thoughtcrimes is a bad road to go down, and I will probably reblog some of them next time they cross my dash for more context.  What I want to talk about is the trigger mechanism, the ‘oh, this looks like danger!!!’ immune response in how we look at different kinds of porn, and how that applies to anti culture.

Here’s the thing: I am anti-pedophilia.  I think that, for most people, that’s a stance that largely goes without saying!  Adults who prey on children are bad.  I’m also against incest; relatives who prey on their family members are bad.  Above all I oppose rape.  Sexual predation of any kind is bad.  In fact, I’d say that’s the most important item on the list.  There is plenty of room to argue about where the lines are between ‘adult’ and ‘child’ and how teenagers fit in the middle, and there’s plenty of room to get historical about the lines between ethically terrible incest, distasteful-but-bearable “aristocratic inbreeding” between distant cousins, and the kind of consanguinity that tends to develop in a small town where everyone’s vaguely related to everyone else by now anyway.  The core of the issue is consent, and it has always been consent.  Pedophilia and incest are horrific because they are rape scenarios where the abuser has far more power and their victim far fewer resources to cope, both practically and emotionally; because harm to children is, to us as a culture, worse than harm to adults, for a lot of very valid reasons; and because they constitute betrayal of trust the victim should have been able to put in their abuser as well as rape--but they are all rape scenarios, and that’s why they’re awful. 

These things are bad.  It is good for us to have a social immune response system that recognizes these things when they’re happening and insists we step in.  That is a good thing to develop!  It helps us, as a society.  It can help the people being victimized.  It’s the same reason educators and childcare workers in the US are all mandated reporters, why we do background checks on people working near kids.  These things happen, and they’re terrible, and it’s good that we try to be aware and prepared for them.  (Though obviously studies show we’re a lot less good at protecting the vulnerable than we’d like to pretend we are.)

The question is: why does that same social immune response trigger, and trigger so angrily, in response to fiction?

Anti culture is fundamentally an expression of that social immune response.  Specifically, it’s that social immune response when it is set off by a situation that, while it has some similarities to the very bad real-life crime of sexual predation including pedophilia and incest, is in and of itself harmless.

If you’re instinct is to flare up in anger or dismissiveness because I’m calling these things harmless, I want to ask you to just take a deep breath and bear with me for a bit longer.  What you’re feeling right now is an allergic reaction.

Humans tell and read and listen to stories about “legitimately fucked up shit” all the time.  It’s part of the human condition.  It’s part of how we process those things happening, not just to use, but to other people in the world around us.  It’s part of how we process completely unrelated fucked-up shit, playing with fears and furies and insecurities that we all have, through so may layers of fiction that we don’t even recognize them any more, playing with power dynamics in metaphor and making characters suffer for fun.  Aside from the fact that literally all stories do this to some extent or another; aside from the fact that drawing lines between ‘ok that’s good storytelling’ and ‘that’s too fucked-up to write about’ is arbitrary, subjective, and dangerous in its own right; aside from all of that, these stories are stories.  All of them. 

Even the ones about rape, about incest, about pedophilia.  They’re words on a page.  No real children were harmed, touched, or even glanced at in the making of this work of fiction.  This story, pornographic though it may be, is part of a conversation between consenting adults.  (And if a teenager lies about their age to consent, that is a different problem altogether.)

Stories in and of themselves, no matter what they’re about, are no more dangerous than a crate full of oranges.  Which is to say: utterly harmless, unless all you have to eat is oranges, all day every day, and you find yourself dying slowly of nutrient deficiency--which is why representation matters.  Or unless someone wields one deliberately, violently, as a tool to cause harm, and someone gets acid in their eye--which is the fault of the person holding the orange. And unless you happen to be allergic to citrus.

The key here is this twofold understanding:  First, the thing that hurts you can also have value to others.  Real, legitimate value.  Whether you’ve undergone trauma and certain story elements are straight-up PTSD triggers or you just don’t like orange juice, that story, those tropes, that crate of oranges may be somewhere between icky and fundamentally abhorrent--but we understand that that is still your reaction.  Even if you don’t understand how anybody could ever enjoy it; even if every single person you surround yourself with is as sensitive and disgusted and itchy about this thing that makes your eyes hurt and your throat stop working as you; that doesn’t make it true for everyone.  That doesn’t make oranges poisonous.  No real children were involved in the writing of this story.  It is words on a page.

But, secondly: the thing that has value to others can also hurt you.  Just because a story isn’t inherently poison doesn’t mean it can’t cause you, personally, pain.  That’s what a PTSD trigger is: an allergic reaction, psychological anaphylaxis, a brain that’s trying so hard to protect its own from a threat that isn’t actually present (but was once, and the brain is trained to respond) that it causes far more harm and misery than the trigger itself possibly could.  And no, it’s not just people with PTSD who sometimes get hurt by stories.  There are many, many ways a story can poke the part of your brain that says, this is Bad, I don’t like this, I don’t want to be here.  The story is still, always, every time, pixels on a screen and ink on paper.  The story causes no physical harm.  But it can poke your brain into misery, it can stir up your emotions, it can make you want to cringe and run away.  It can make you want to scream and fight and go after the author who brought this thing into existence.  It can make you hurt.

This is an allergic reaction.  This is your brain and body, your reflexes and instincts, trying to protect you from something that isn’t really happening.  And just like a literal allergic reaction, it can do actual harm to you if it gets set off.  This is real.  The fact that stories can upset you to the point of pain and mental/emotional injury is real, even though it’s coming from your own brain and not the story itself.  There are stories you shouldn’t read.  There are stories I shouldn’t read, regret reading, will never read, because they hurt me.  That doesn’t mean they’re the same stories that would hurt you.  That doesn’t mean they don’t have value.

And, finally:

If getting upset about stories is fundamentally an individual person’s allergic reaction, their brain freaking out and firing off painful survival instincts in the face of a thing that isn’t, in and of itself, a threat?  Then the anti movement is a cultural allergic reaction.

Fandom as a whole has a pretty active immune system, which doesn’t mean we have a good immune system.  We try very hard to be aware of all the viruses and -isms and abuse and manipulation and cruelty, both systematic and individual, that exists around and within our community.  We’re primed and ready to shout about things at all times.  The anti movement is that system, that culture, screaming and shouting and fighting at a harmless thing on a grand scale.  It wants to stop that thing, that scary awful thing that trips all of its well-primed danger sensors, at all costs.  It’ll swell up and block off our airways (our archives) if it has to.  It’ll turn on the body it came from.  It’s scared and protective and trying to fight, and it’s ready to fight and destroy itself.

Luckily, fans and fanfic and fandom and fan culture are a lot bigger and older than they often get credit for, and it’s not like these cultural allergies are anything new.  We could talk about shippers and slashers in the X-Files fandom in the 90s.  We could talk about the birth of fandom in the days of Star Trek.  We could talk about censorship and book burning going back centuries.  We survived that and we’ll survive this, too.

But god, does the anti movement my throat and eyes itch.  Man is it irritating, and sometimes a little suffocating, to realize how many stories just aren’t getting told out of fear of what the antis will say.  And that’s the real danger, I think.  What are we losing that would have so much value to someone?  What are we missing out?

[adonis-koo]

tease

| 24 |

↳ Summary: You came with the intentions of your best friend landing a job as a stripper. You never meant to catch the eyes of the king stripper of the establishment- Jeon Jungkook, yourself. With what was supposed to be a harmless way of paying off college debt faster you find yourself falling into a very odd and passionate relationship with your new mentor. Between infidelity, passion and jealousy there’s never a dull moment at Cherry Bomb.

↳ Pairing: Stripper!Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, drama, slice of life, relationship problems without the relationship, reader is such a shy baby protect her, MUTUAL pining, so much sexual frustration,  

Word Count: 10k

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Tags:  penetrative sex, it’s a little rough, oral (m & f recieveing) they 69 i’m sorry, dirty talk, an attempted lap dance, reverse cowgirl because we love women who ride, slight degradation, praise kink, spanking, doggy style, little hair pulling and breath play,

Song Mood

Warning: This story touches on both sexual harassment and abuse, please read with caution if any of these things are triggers to you. Additional warnings will be given when a chapter present them.

“No!” 

“What do you mean no!? Baby be reasonable you can’t tell me you’re gonna cook all of that.” Jungkook glared down childishly at the cart only semi full of groceries that you had crossed off the list you had made before dragging Jungkook out, if he had it his way, you’d both be at the theme park right now. 

But seriously, his fridge was empty! Nothing, and you were not eating take out, again. It was ridiculous. So in effort to combat the increasing desire to cook at home, you compiled a list of meals you wanted to make and eat before demanding Jungkook go with you to the store because hey, if he wanted to live together then this was going to be a team effort. 

You had asked Jungkook what he wanted to eat as well and he shrugged saying he really didn’t care and therefore, the world was your oyster in terms of cooking, “Me be reasonable!?” You replied back indignant, an angry pout on your face as you flailed your hands, “You’re the one who tried to put two 24 packs of soda in the cart, a box of snack cakes, matcha snowballs and mochi in the cart? You think I’m gonna let you add ice cream to the list as well?” 

You knew Jungkook had a sweet tooth but you didn’t realize just how big of a sweet tooth he had and before you knew it, you were constantly making Jungkook put things back, he glared at you and you glared back at him. War sirens could be heard to anyone passing by you both as he gripped the tub of ice cream stubbornly. 

“It’s either mochi or ice cream Jungkook, we’re not getting both.” You replied as you crossed your arms. And for the first time in your life, you watched Jungkook’s lips quiver into a pout, puffing a childish breath as he turned around in defeat, going to put the ice cream back. 

You had to stifle your giggle because you knew he’d take it as a challenge otherwise, he was just too cute sometimes. You found his sweet tooth, in fact, endearing. Most men in his position would probably try to act all tough and manly, only liking things bitter like their personalities but Jungkook? Far from it. 

Jungkook came back with his arms crossed and that broody pout still on his face making you smile unable to stop your giggles making him even more broody as he took the cart from you with a huff, “Stop laughing at me! You’re cock blocking all my favorite snacks.” 

“Is that all you buy by yourself? Just snacks? That’s not healthy!” You giggled even more at the way he rolled his eyes, obviously your guess was correct, “Besides, once I start cooking you’ll appreciate it, I just know it. And,” You raised your brows as your lips puckered together, “You were the one that wanted us to live together, this is on you.” 

Jungkook huffed as he pushed the cart, looking down at the list that was laid out on top of your purse, “How is that going by the way?” Jungkook’s expression melted to one of curiosity as he raised his brow, “Have you talked to your landlord yet?” 

“Yeah,” You paused at the fresh produce outside the isle you both excited as you grabbed onto the cart, it was slow today and much appreciated so you wouldn’t have to battle over food with people, “The apartment is still in good condition even after...what happened,” Your lips twisted into a weak smile as you grabbed one of the reusable bags you always used at the store as you placed a fresh stalk of chokboy inside it, “My lease was getting ready to come up anyways so we agreed that with two months of rent he’d terminate my lease. I’ll get that to him Monday and then I’ll have thirty days to pack up everything and get it moved.” 

Jungkook nodded, “Which by the way, everyone agreed to come over and help clean up later today,” Your lips quivered into a pout...you...when did he even ask them that? You knew everyone had of course offered help but well, you hadn’t expected anyone to actually come and help you...well besides Jungkook but that was just a given. 

“Don’t look like that,” Jungkook snorted, reaching out as he squished your cheeks, a tiny smile tugging on your cheeks as you grabbed his wrist, pushing him away, “They asked by the way, I didn’t do anything. It just got mentioned in the groupchat.” 

“I didn’t see it.” You frowned as you checked your phone and much to your confusion you were right, there weren't any new messages to your notice.

Jungkook’s smile was a little sheepish as he shrugged, “We have a guys groupchat.” 

“That I'm not a part of!” You cried out with a pout as you crossed your arms, your expression sulky, you obviously weren’t surprised all the boys had their own chat, you were a part of so many it was hard to keep track but, couldn’t they ask in the main one? Where everyone was a part of?

“Well you aren’t a guy baby,” Jungkook cooed out, saccharine dripping on his tone as he squished your cheeks, “Besides…” He had a lopsided smile on his face as he leaned on the handle of the cart, “It was supposed to be a surprise but….I can’t help myself. I didn’t want you to cry again.” 

It was hard to not smile as you pushed him away playfully making him shove you back as you pulled the cart along, “I can’t believe everyone really wants to help...I mean...I just figured it’d be me and you.” 

“Well believe it or not they are your friends too now,” Jungkook snorted writing off on the list you made as you placed fresh tomatoes into the bag you had set the bokchoy in, “What are you even gonna make with this shit?” He furrowed his brows. 

“Food! I was gonna make some bulgogi one night and some porkbelly another with banchan and maybe some jjangijanma? I’m not just spending money on food that's gonna go bad Koo!” You stomped your foot in annoyance at why he kept complaining about you feeding both you and him decent food, “We can’t live off takeout, I’m not gonna stand for that! And!” 

You pointed a finger at him, “I want to get some paint for the living room! And some curtains because what if some creep is staring at us at night?” You shuddered, at the irrational fear but you couldn’t help it, regardless of how irrational it was you wouldn’t stand for it, especially if it was an easy fix, “Along with a rug too for the living center- oh! I was thinking about maybe finding a coffee table for the couch too? Too put in front of it?”

“Okay wait, wait, wait, slow down,” Jungkook held out his hands, his expression bewildered at your sudden long list of demands for the apartment, “Just because we’re living together doesn’t mean you can just hijack my apartment.” 

“Sure I can,” His lips parted indignantly as you smiled brightly with a shrug, “It’s not like you bothered to decorate anyways and I’m sure your landlord won’t mind a fresh coat of paint on those musty looking walls. Besides, it’s not yours anymore, it’s ours. You think we could get some new lighting for the kitchen too by the way? The white light really makes the grey walls look gross.” 

Jungkook puffed a breath, a brief smile on his lips as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “Let's just focus on one thing at a time first okay?” You squealed at his words, bouncing in excitement at his approval of letting you completely hijack his apartment but honestly, it reeked of lack of care and testosterone. It could use a feminine touch, “We can start off with some paint and lighting, that I can do. And….” He rubbed his neck, “It’s not like we don’t have time, I just got a call from Sejin this morning telling me Cherry isn’t gonna be open until Monday.” 

You frowned, “Isn’t that when SSU starts though?” How was that even gonna go? You doubt a lot of people- if any at all would show up, especially given what had just happened. Would it even still be on this year with everything that’s happened? 

“Yeah that’s the ploy,” Jungkook shrugged, just as unsure as you as he answered, “A lot of free and cheap entertainment, drinks will be half off, Sejin and Bang are really trying to make the most of Cherry’s comeback to try and bury what happened. You’d be surprised at how superficial people are, especially men when it comes to strip clubs.” 

You sighed wistfully as you shrugged, you wouldn’t deny him there, men were strange creatures and you wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of business did come back without a care in the world for what happened as long as it meant cheap drinks and naked girls.

“But hey! That gives us more time to prep for you,” Jungkook smiled that charming bright smile of his as he bumped into you making you whine a little as you bumped him back despite a smile threatening to tug on your lips, “Meaning I got a strip pole to install when we get back to the apartment. We won’t need Cherry anyways to choreograph now.” 

You were wondering what that package was on his front porch anyways, he had only smiled that smile of his as he shrugged innocently but apparently he had been wanting to get a pole for the apartment for awhile now. 

“Well I already have some songs picked out,” Your smile was a little timid at that pure enthusiasm Jungkook always radiated with pride when it came to you and work, “You’ll have to tell me in detail later just how things are run for SSU. But anyways, this is the last of what we need so let's go check out.” 

Jungkook wheeled the cart to the checkout where you carefully placed things back into the reusable bags which Jungkook complained about but you didn't like using plastic when it wasn’t needed. 

For the first time, doing mundane things such as grocery shopping was actually rather fun, Jungkook and you would banter the whole time and he despite complaining was just as curious and involved in getting things for you (and just as what had happened, trying to bring extra things into the cart as well). However he did get his own snack as well. You just weren’t gonna let him go overboard.

Bringing groceries in was also easy as Jungkook had made it a competition he easily won by bringing them in bulk, proudly showing off the muscle he had despite it being hidden beneath the bagging clothes he often wore. 

Unfortunately Jungkook looked like a lost puppy, unable to help as you began to unload them into the fridge, debating on where to put everything as he sat back at the chair at the table with a fat pout on his face making you giggle, “You can join in the say so if you want, I don’t mind! It is your fridge. Have you ever even gotten a full grocery shop before?” 

“No.” Jungkook sulked as he crossed his arms, making a flutter of laughter escape you, “I don’t know shit about where to put what in the fridge!” 

You waved him over as you shook your head, and reluctantly Jungkook got up and peered over your shoulder, “Everyone does it different, but this is how I do it. All the big stuff like milk and dairy go on the main shelving,” You patted the first level where you had placed your oat milk, the sour cream and cheese at, “These little shelves are for smaller stuff like butter! And the drawers on the bottom hold produce like the bokchoy we have.” 

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you loosely as he set his chin on your shoulder, listening intently to you ramble and explain how you placed things into the fridge before muttering to him about how to arrange things which Jungkook would offer suggestions on, some you’d agree excitedly with and others you snort and dismiss. 

You enjoyed doing domestic things with him. It didn’t take long for all the groceries to be put away and you were admittedly excited to start turning Jungkook’s apartment into something more...bright...You didn’t want to say Jungkook’s apartment was ugly. It just felt...void of personality and flair that you knew it had the potential for. 

And it wasn’t like Jungkook lived in a bad part of Seoul, it was a lovely neighborhood and apartment complex he lived in and because it was so close to Gangnam it was extremely expensive, the only way he could ever afford it was because he was a stripper. He had told you he only started renting here three years ago. 

So you knew this apartment probably came like this and only deteriorated over time as Jungkook didn’t live hard in it, but he didn’t maintain more than needed. With a little bit of love you knew this place would be a lot brighter and happier. 

“Just hold down the bottom,” Jungkook directed as you steadied the pole, he stood up on a chair as he installed the top of the pole, you both had to rearrange furniture and Jungkook respectively asked for your opinion as this was your domain that you would be styling in the future and you both had agreed that the pole would look back towards the further right corner just a little left of where the TV was, but enough space that there was no chance of hitting the wall or anything else. 

You definitely had some work to do with this place but you were already getting ideas that you were excited to try, the rest of your summer, which was coming to a fast end, wouldn’t go to waste.  

“I am!” You replied, looking up at him with a pout as you steadied the pole. 

“Then why are you wiggling so much?” Jungkook huffed as he gripped the top of the pole making it stiff as he finished tightening the top. 

“Don’t be mean! I’m trying my best!” You replied back with a cry making Jungkook snort as he rolled his eyes, finishing up he hopped off the chair, holding out his hands, your eyes narrowing on them as you grabbed them. 

“I’m not being mean,” Jungkook tutted as he pulled you up and against him, you tried your best to make an angry face but it failed as he leaned down, bumping your nose against his, “You’re just being a baby.”

Your expression curled a little as he smiled that smile of his as he looked away, “See? Pure baby material.” 

You stomped your foot before latching onto him, your arms around his neck as you spoke, “You like it when I’m a baby!” You defended yourself, making him chuckle. 

“You’re right, I do.” He relented playfully as he sighed dramatically, “I do. I wouldn’t want it any other way then seeing your sulky, pouty little face every day.” He bumped your nose against his once more as your lips lightened into a bright shy smile as you leaned up, letting your nose brush his in acknowledgement, “Are you ready to go? The others are headed over to your apartment.” 

You nodded, “Mhm, I just wanna get it cleaned oh and…” You offered a cheeky smile that you knew he would groan about, “I wanna bring some of my mugs and plates over...it’s really sad you live off styrofoam.” 

“Oh my god.” He sighed as he hung his head causing a string of giggles to escape you, god you loved this man. 

“Man this place is a mess,” Seokjin wrinkled his nose as he swept up broken glass, “I mean really, it’s seen better da- Ow! Hey you punk!” Seokjin had dropped the broom to rub his bicep at the harsh punch Jungkook landed against his arm, his glare sharp as he briefly looked over at you. 

Kneeled down your fingers ran through the soil of the potted hosta you had bought from the supermarket, it had been dying and you were slowly nursing it back to health. Now all its leaves were dried up and crumbled from the days without nutrition or water. Placing the chunks of pottery into the plastic bag you remembered the day you bought that pot too. 

It was from the local pottery store and the woman who ran it was so excited that you had gotten it because it had been sitting on the shelf for nearly three months despite having the cutest illustration of a lone weak tree on it. 

You remembered thinking it was that most adorable thing on the planet and just knew it’d look good sitting up on that old wooden crate you stood up right as a stand. You hardly even realized tears were trickling down your cheeks as you held up the broken pottery piece that had the small tree on it. 

“We’ll get you a new one babygirl.” Jungkook kneeled down beside you with a soft tone as he wrapped an arm around you, your lips immediately quivering as you sniffled harshly, trying not to cry. It was dumb, these were all things, just material items, at least they weren’t you. But in everything you did and bought, you did it was so much passion and utmost love. 

“...It was from the pottery store, theren’t aren’t any more like this.” You mumbled with a sniffle as you closed your eyes in defeat, tears trickling down your face as you wiped them. Shaking your head, “This is so stupid to cry about!” You flopped the piece into the bag, feeling frustrated with yourself, you were tired of crying, tired of feeling your heart ache over the tiniest things. It was too exhausting. 

“No, no, no it’s not!” Jungkook immediately defended, grabbing the piece from the bag, “These are your things babydoll, and I know how much your space means to you. It’s okay for this to be hard,” He pecked your temple as you closed your eyes again, warm watery tears sliding down your cheeks, “There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that.” 

Your hands trembled as you covered your eyes, your shoulders bouncing as you silently kept your tears to yourself, Jungkook’s lips pressing into your hair as his hand soothingly rubbed your arm that was wrapped around you. 

After a moment of mourning all of the precious memories you made in this little apartment you called home, you wiped your tears as Jungkook asked if you were okay, nodding you continued to wipe your eyes as he helped you bag up the rest of the broken pot. Tenderly Jungkook took the bag from you as he rubbed your back once before getting up. 

Sighing you shook your head, wiping your eyes one last time as you stood up.Stupid...even with Jungkooks vaildation which you knew he was right about, you couldn’t help but berate yourself, it was dumb to cry about things like this when there was better ways you could exert your energy. 

Having dried your tears and having a moment to regain your composure you finished up cleaning all the pottery and glass that had been scattered on the floor before walking into the living room your lips curled a little at the confused expression Jimin sported. 

He was holding up a cloth, inspecting it closely as if trying to figure out what it was was but obviously finding no success due to the many rips in it, “It’s a tapestry,” Jimin jumped a little as you sat down on the couch beside him, “...Was a tapestry,” You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck, “I found it at a flea market when I first came to Seoul, back when me and Seulgi lived together that was our first week on being in our apartment and it was horrible,” You shook your head as your nose wrinkled, grabbing a side of the ripped tapestry in fondness, “I mean there was water stains on the walls, the paint was chipped and looked like it had been due for a new coat for over ten years, the toilets hadn’t been scrubbed and the bathrooms were wrecked. It was horrible.” 

Jimin peered at you curiously as you traced the design of a large lotus flower that had been on it, “Seulgi just started crying the moment we walked through the house for the first time because the pictures online made it look a lot better. And of course I thought it was terrible too, but later that week exploring Seoul, I ended up finding an old flea market stall and came across this.” 

Your lips curled into a proud smile as you held it up, “And I realized that, just because that’s what our apartment looked like when we first got there, didn’t mean it had to continue looking like that. Seulgi dragged her feet and wouldn’t come with me so I painted all the walls, cleaned up the bathrooms and got new apparel to put in there. It didn’t happen fast.” 

You clacked your tongue as you sighed, “We were pretty broke at the time because even with us splitting rent it was still expensive. But slowly and sure, it came together. And we left that apartment better than it ever was. I was proud.”

You looked at Jimin only for him to scoot a little away from you as he joked, “Maybe you should’ve gone into interior decorating instead of dance? Jungkook could really use the help, he has zero sense of taste when it comes to anything besides himself.” 

You briefly flickered your gaze to Jungkook who tried to not make himself so obvious that he was keeping an eye on you both, his gaze immediately shooting away from you as you sighed, you knew Jungkook would apologize on his own time but that didn’t mean you still didn’t feel bad, “Jungkook told me…”

You didn’t need to elaborate for Jimin to know exactly what you were talking about, his expression visibly put out as he slumped back against the couch, running his hands through his hair as he groaned, “I mean I’m not surprised, but he could’ve kept it to himself…You know what, maybe you’ll tell me what the fuck is wrong with him?” 

Your lips parted a little, somewhat taken aback at just how strong Jimin came off, clearly still sore about yesterday- not that you could blame him, you knew how Jungkook was, but still…you had never seen Jimin in such a...hostile state. And a part of you felt a wave of guilt...had it not been for you...Jungkook wouldn’t be like this…

You had to pause to think about your next words carefully, because you knew if not said the right way, it could be seen as defensive, which wasn’t your intention, “...Well...I wouldn’t say there’s anything wrong with Jungkook,” You spoke softly, folding your hands into your lap, “He just....” Your eyes fanned around the room realizing Jungkook must’ve gone back to the kitchen, otherwise it was just the two of you, “...Jimin…” You sighed as you lifted one foot onto the couch, wrapping your arms around your leg as you gently laid your head against it, “There’s a lot of stuff going on with him lately. There’s a lot of things that he’s ignored about himself and bottled up, and...it’s all come out recently. A lot of wounds he never even tended to, have been ripped back open for him.” 

“I just don’t understand him,” Jimin sighed, lifting up the fabric of the tapestry once more as he shook his head, “I thought I knew him, but I guess I don’t huh.” You frowned a little as you pulled the tapestry from his hands, folding it up as you shook your head. 

“It’s not you, he just...I guess he thought he could bury it, or run from it...and he can’t.” You smoothed out the edges, “It’s brought out a lot of deep rooted insecurities from him. And Jungkook knows it’s not like him, but it’s not something he can help. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I made things tense between you both....” You couldn’t look at him anymore, feeling a sense of shame in you as you stared down at your fingers.

“It’s not your fault!” Jimin immediately defended you, which was appreciated but you still felt bad, “You did nothing wrong.” 

“I basically gaslit him when he thought I was pregnant with your kid and instead of just staying in, I forced us to go out and not only that but somehow during all of that, I seriously thought blowing you would be a good idea.” Jimin deflated a little at your words as you stared at him in exasperation. You didn’t force Jungkook to go out technically, but you had pushed the whole day.

But only because you knew something was bothering him and he’d never be like that normally, you should’ve respected what he wanted regardless but you just thought….thought what? You felt pathetic trying to defend your motive that day, but it had been truly innocent up until what had happened at the afterparty. You had assumed Jungkook would eventually perk back up and have fun because he loved going out, you wouldn’t have pushed him had you understood what was really going on. 

“Well you do sound kinda like a bitch when you put it like that,” Jimin muttered, looking at you as you looked back at him, a smile curling on his lips and one threatening yours as you snorted, “But we both know it probably wasn’t like that. You had his best intentions at heart. And I mean you’re right, blowing me wasn’t a good idea, but I mean…” He shrugged, that dumb smile on his face as he shrugged, “Listen, it is what it is, you and I both assumed he wouldn’t care, clearly. And it was a shit move. The most you can do is just let it go and move on, I’m assuming he told you about what he told me?”

You nodded, setting down the tapestry coffee table as you hummed, “Yeah he told me, and it’s not like I could be mad at him, he’s struggling, with a lot internally and I think once he works through it, things will be okay. But it’s just going to be a work in progress until then.” You could distinctly remember Jungkook’s anger, the way he seemed frustrated with himself. 

It was going to be a process, “Besides...It seems like Jungkook isn’t the only one who hasn’t told everyone everything either...and I really hope you both know that it’s okay to have some things stay private.”

Jimin said nothing, only looking down at his hand that he flexed his fingers out from, wiggling them a little and his expression seemed downcast, “...I used to wanna have kids,” You glanced at him in surprise, not at his words, but you didn’t think Jimin would want to talk about it, it was something very personal to him clearly and he owned you nothing, “Me and my girlfriend used to talk about it all the time.” 

His lips flickered into a small smile as he looked down at his hand, as if remenscising a memory you’d never know about, “She said she always loved baby smiles and loved little kids sitting down with her, she used to work at a daycare- so I thought, why the hell not?” Jimin’s tiny smile began to melt off her face, “She thought it was her- that was infertile. But I got tested too with her, she just so happened to get her results back faster.” 

Jimin’s face became void as he lowered his hand down, “It was late that night and she had offered to stay past her shift because they were low staffed that night but I never got to see her again, a drunk driver clipped the back side of her car and flipped it.” 

Your lips quivered a little into a frown as you folded your hands, Jimin’s lips twitched into a bitter smile, “I got my results that morning.” You could see swirls of lingering mourning and rage inside his eyes, it was very similar to not only Jungkook, but Rosé’s as well. They all had things they were struggling with and it made your heart hurt for them, “God is one cruel motherfucker.” 

“I’m sorry…” You mumbled softly, your hands folded into your lap, wanting to give him a hug because you knew anybody in Jimin’s position probably needed one, but you also knew, this was a bad time, and that it wouldn’t be appropriate given everything that had happened up until this point, “I know that doesn’t change things for you. But, I do hope you find happiness.” You offered a tiny smile. 

Jimin sighed as he stretched out, shrugging loosely, trying to play it off like he didn’t care anymore but he above all else should know it wouldn’t slip past your eyes the way he was still sore about it, and he had every right to be, “It’s been years now,” He deflated, “I spiralled out of control after that, and eventually I stumbled across Cherry Bomb.” Jimin’s lips curved a little at the memory, “I was drunk and I wasn’t sure if I was just hallucinating or if it was Yeji on stage. It wasn’t,” He clarified before snorting, something oddly melancholy in his eyes as he muttered, “It was Rosé,” His lips curled into a semi ironic smile and his brows furrowed as if only slightly amused, “They don’t even look close to alike. And I remember seeing her in class the next day before realizing she was a stripper and she just begged me to not tell anyone.” 

Jimin heaved a breath as he stretched out before sitting up, “But I didn’t wanna tell anyone, I wanted to be up on stage. It sounds stupid but, that night I was drunk, I figured who’d care if I just left the world too?” His gaze lowered a little, “But my drunk stupid ass thought it was Yeji on that stage, and I cried at the bar the whole night before Yoongi eventually kicked me out at closing, and even if they looked nothing alike, even if it was just a desperate drunk delusion, when I saw Rose the next day, I saw hope. And so I asked her how I could start dancing because it was obvious I saw her for a reason.” 

You sniffled a little, wiping your eyes as Jimin did a double take, “it wasn’t that sad christ…” He looked a little awkward as you giggled, “And…” His gaze became sharp, “Don’t ever tell her any of what I just said. She’s my best friend and I love her but that’s not a conversation I’m ready to have with her- if ever.” 

“I’m not Jungkook,” You giggled as you wiped your eyes, “Of course it’ll stay between us- and maybe Jungkook too,” He groaned as you offered a small smile, “It just made me emotional, that’s all. I can’t relate, I don’t know what that feels like. But it makes me happy you and Rosé are so close.” 

“I am a lesbian,” You both jumped at Rosé who put her hands on the couch, a bright smile on her face as she answered pointedly, “I mean we already agreed to get married platonically if we’re both single by 30 but I draw the line with dicks. Unless it’s rubber it’s not getting near me.” You snorted as you began howling out laughing, Jimin looked a little flustered, not at her words but at her appearance before relaxing as he rolled his eyes. 

“So why all of these affectionate words? Did I do something?” Rosé smiled teasingly as she placed a hand on her chest waiting making you giggle as you shook your head while standing up, shrugging as she pouted, “Hey no fair! You can’t keep secrets from me!”

You offered a small smile as you replied, “Sometimes, the longer a secret is kept, the sweeter it is when they tell you.” Rosé waved her hands walking back to the hallway as you giggled. You were glad, if anything, that you had the chance to talk to Jimin and not only this, but for him to share such a personal thing with you. 

“Are you really okay? With everything going on I mean?” Hyerin frowned, she had texted you earlier in the morning asking if you’d be interested in getting drink’s together and of course, leave it to Jungkook and Yugyeom both for that matter to butt in. 

They were off in the distance playing pool, Hyerin said she wasn’t a fan of bars but when you offered a lounge she seemed excited as she had never been, it was a nice place, lowkey and quiet but good for a night out or even a place to study during the day. 

You both sat at the counter watching Jungkook and Yugyeom play against a few others here at the lounge, “Well, I have to be,” Your hands curled around your drink, not wanting to think about what had happened a few days earlier and it was difficult to keep up with just how many traumatising things had happened within a week, “For Jungkook’s sake...and…” You sighed softly, “It’s not like there’s anything that can be done for me right now. That’s just gonna take time…” 

“Awh, I understand. I just wish things hadn’t taken such a sharp turn, do you know when Cherry Bomb will open back up at least?’ Hyerin stirred her drink as she leaned back against the barstool, watching Yugyeom and Jungkook look like little boys triuphanting over their victory together.

“Monday, by the sound of it...But nobody is even sure if we’re gonna have a crowd, even with SSU starting that night. Regardless me and Jungkook are gonna stay busy with choreographing, he’s really excited about it.” Your lips tilted upwards a little bit at the memory of how much enthusiasm he had, you were happy to see him happy. It was just like him to be like that, “How have things been...at the dungeon with...you know...Shownu was it?” 

Hyerin snorted, taking a sip of her drink as she rolled her eyes, “Same old, same old, he causes shit, makes dom’s hate him and gets away with it.” She crumpled the paper her straw had been in as she flicked it against the countertop, “Honestly, Yugyeom wants to find a new dungeon, the drama just isn’t worth it. I’m glad you and Jungkook don’t go regularly.” 

You tilted your head as Hyerin offered a weak smile, “It’s hard enough keeping Yugyeom from beating the shit out of Shownu and getting us kicked out. Jungkook and Yugyeom together?” You let out a weak laughing, beginning to understand what she meant, “I mean they’d probably send him to the hospital…” 

“They would send him to the hospital,” You offered a weak smile, even without Yugyeom’s help Jungkook totally would, let alone with it? Hyerin was right, that was a bad mix even together, you hadn’t had the chance to talk to Yugyeom fully but you had the feeling, that despite being more relaxed then Jungkook was, he could get just as defensive as him, easily. Maybe even more so, “What is the reason Shownu is still allowed around anyways?” 

You both didn’t have the time to visit the dungeon much but you got the impression that if you did, you’d probably be a lot more involved in the drama given Jungkook’s inclination to always step in, “Ah…” Hyerin relented as she rubbed her neck, “Shownu is just good friends with a lot of the dungeon owners, and if you’re on good terms with them? You’re pretty much untouchable. I don’t know all the ends and outs but…” Hyerin frowned as she looked at her cup, “Word is that some of the girls have been disappearing at the dungeon and...Some of the dungeon owners might be involved...I don’t know. We haven’t been for the past week ever since we found out. Yugyeom wants things to clear up before we go back.” 

You shuddered at the idea, being a little to familiar with the feeling, you could understand Yugyeom’s concern, for anyone’s concern really, Jungkook would be, and is the same way, “Seems like trouble in paradise everywhere these days,” You sighed wistfully, even in the areas of your life you weren’t so involved it, were having trouble now. 

You just wanted things to become normal again, when they weren’t so tense and your only stresses were exams and being naked on stage. It seemed so...insignificant in comparison now. Things were the way they were, so you wouldn’t complain about them, and at the very least, you and Jungkook had each other and you’d make it through this. 

But still, it was hard to not wish for things to be easier again. When your life wasn’t put on the line as well as Jungkooks, which he hadn’t exactly clarified but...You couldn’t ignore your gut instinct that was telling you he was in just as dangerous of a position.

“Tell me about it,” Hyerin sighed before suddenly perking up with a thought, “Oh…! You know what,” She turned you, her smile a little shy now as she asked, “What if you came over and we hung out one night? I have tons of coloring sheets at my apartment and snacks too! Yugyeom is pretty strict about snacks but he’d totally be willing to let us have some if it was a get together!” 

Was she talking about- Oh...your face felt hot at the mention, feeling a little shy but you did like the idea, sounded like...a nice break from the harsh world you were constantly having to endure day in and day out, “Sure…! We could do it tomorrow night if you wanted? If you’re free of course!” 

Hyerin bounced in her seat in excitement, “That’s perfect! And bring as many stuffies as you want, I have a whole collection I want you to meet.” You both began giggling and Hyerin needed to shut up before she slipped and you could tell her excitement was getting the better of her. 

“Oh I know that look,” Yugyeom called out, him and Jungkook both finished with their game of pool, his smile soft at the sight of her excited bounce and wigglyness, “What are you two conspiring?” 

“Well!” Hyerin crossed her arms, looking away with a little bit of sass as she spoke proudly, “Me and Y/n are having a playdate tomorrow night and you both aren’t invited.” Your eyebrows lifted and your gaze darted away from Jungkook’s who looked both thoroughly amused and yet daring you to try and piggy back off Hyerin. 

“Oh?” Yugyeom raised his brows, somewhat amused, somewhat challenging, “And where am I supposed to stay? Our bedroom?” Hyerin’s lips parted a little before she hmphed, crossing her arms, “As long as you aren’t mean to her I don’t care.” 

“I won’t! Y/n is my friend!” Hyerin pouted a little, grabbing your arm defensively as you smiled shyly, your hands folded as Jungkook sat down next to you, pressing a kiss on your head. 

“As fun as it’s been these two need to be separated, look at them,” Jungkook snorted in amusement, his eyes dancing with affection as he tenderly stroked a hand through your hair as you curled up against his touch, “They’re gonna send each other small in excitement,” Jungkook, knowing you contained the urge to coo at you as he spoke, “What about me though? Hm? Am I excluded too?”

Your lips quivered into a pout as Jungkook smiled fondly, his hands squeezing your cheeks, “No…” You mumbled, your bottom lip jutting like a fish as his fingers pressed into your cheeks once more, the puppy expression on your face just too cute for Jungkook to resist tapping your nose, “You can be there.” 

“Oh thank you so much baby,” Jungkook whispered, unable to stop the soft coo that escaped him, your arms immediately latching around him in a hug, as you looked up at him with a bright shy smile, “You’re always so thoughtful of others huh?” He leaned down and pecked your forehead. 

“Okay yeah, I gotta take someone home,” Yugyeom sighed but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face at Hyerin now attached to him, he brushed his hand through his hair before snorting, “Well I guess I’ll see you tomorrow huh, no courtesy of you.” He pinched Hyerin’s side making her whine, “Come on sweetheart, let’s go.” Hyerin bounced a little as she hugged unto Yugyeom who only smiled. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Jungkook waved them off before tutting, “You were gonna make plans and leave me out baby.” He said exasperatedly, a playful tone in his voice but you still shook your head. 

“No! That was Hyerin...I…!” You crossed your arms, a sulky glare on your face as Jungkook chuckled, “That wasn’t me!” You whined, leaning against Jungkook as he wrapped an arm around you, “She just thought it would be fun to get together and- and I just thought!” 

“Thought what?” Jungkook smiled boyishly as he raised his brows in amusement, “Thought what baby? Don’t leave me hanging.”

“Thought it’d be nice to just not have to deal with everything for the night,” You mumbled, feeling a bit shy to admit it. You had felt self conscious when it came to anything about age regression, things had gotten a little better since you had talked to Jungkook about it but you were still a bit shy and admittedly...being with someone like Hyerin, who did the same thing, it made you feel, not so self conscious. 

“Well you’re more than welcome to at any time now that we’re gonna be together all the time baby,” Jungkook clacked his tongue, a playful smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to your head once more, “Buy hey, it’ll be a good way to relax tomorrow because we’re working the rest of today and all of tomorrow on your dances since we go back Monday. We’re gonna be cramming baby.” 

You whined at his arm squeezing you making a flutter of giggles escape you, pressing your head against him as he affectionately pressed a kiss on top of your head once more, “Are you ready to go then baby? We got lots to do at the apartment.” You supposed, Jungkook was right, and admittedly, you were looking forward to working with him on it. 

“No….No...Baby come on, I know you can do better than this.” 

You stomped your foot as you turned to Jungkook who was laid out on the couch, though obviously not impressed with your choreography was clearly enjoying the show regardless, a boyish smile crossed his lips at the sight of your annoyed expression. 

“Instead of sitting there just staring at my ass why don’t you help if you don’t like it!?” You crossed your arms, a sulky pout on your face as he chuckled, sitting up before walking over to you, his arms on your shoulder as he pushed you back to the pole. 

“I am helping,” He whispered playfully in your ear as you felt your face go red, shoving him a little as he laughed, “I’m being the audience, and I can tell you the audience won’t care for it.” 

You groaned as you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms once more in frustration, “Then help me! What would look better oh sex dance master.” 

“I am the sex dance master,” Jungkook retorted with a chuckle, that stupid smile on his face as you puffed a childish breath, “And instead of starting out leaning on the pole like every other basic bitch, you should start laying down, and kick your feet up onto the pole.” 

“Did you just call me basic!?” You cried out, Jungkook only looked down at you, a smile still on his face as you groaned, grabbing your head as you looked up at him in disbelief. 

“Why don’t you lay down baby,” Jungkook redirected only more amused at your cry of frustration before complying, laying down on your back you set your feet up against the pole. Jungkook kneeled down as he nodded, “Mhm, and just…” He grabbed your wrists delicately, crossing them before he pulled them up over your head. 

Standing up he backed away a little, “Arch your back a little,” 

“I’m laying down.” You complained as you twisted your head to look up at him. 

“Arch your back.” Jungkook repeated more firmly, making you heave a sigh, uncomfortably curving your spine as best you could, “Now lift your chin a little,” You frowned before doing so, “Okay, okay, and...close your eyes and act sexy.” Your lips threatened to curve into a smile as you snorted, doing so, “That’s not sexy.” 

“I’m trying my best,” You opened your eyes, lips jutting a little as you glared up at him, “And this is my best.” Jungkook rolled his eyes, a smile tugging on his lips as he sat back down, “I’ve seen your best sweetheart, that’s not it. Now start the routine from there, do a few kicks or whatever you want from here before getting up.” 

Closing your eyes you sighed, trying to come up with something and the only thing you could think of however was letting one leg slide down the pole before slowly extending it back up, extending your other leg off the pole before walking them a little. Letting your feet lean to the left a little you lowered them to the floor before lifting your upper body up, looking at Jungkook who shrugged, tipping his soda can at you making you whine, “Bad?” 

His face scrunched a little and he hesitated for a second, “It’s not terrible...but you could do better. First move was nice, second was a little lacking and you know they think it’s cooler when you’re actually on the pole.” 

Laying back down you set your legs back on the pole, “So leg down is fine,” You lowered your leg to your chest once more, “extension is fine?” 

“That’s a good part,” Jungkook nodded, “Now do walk, walk,” You mirrored his words with your each little step, “Just two, then take your feet to the left and lift up. Don’t prolong it. Now lift your arms up and grab on with reverse.” 

You could strip yes, but...pole dancing….? It came with the trade but you still weren’t what one would consider your strong suit. Carefully you placed your hands in reverse grip, “Now pull yourself up.” This was easy! You pulled yourself, feeling triumphant, taking a few steps before adjusting your grip and doing a fan kick to the front. 

“There you go baby,” Jungkook nodded approvingly, his lips curled in that proud smile of his as he leaned back in his seat, “ You couldn’t help but feel shy at his words but continued with one more step before letting go of the pole, pressing your back against it as you slowly slid down to a pole sit, “My thighs are burning,” You whined, “You think I should do a button up for this?” You fiddled with pretend buttons before pushing yourself up. 

“I think,” Jungkook stood up, walking over before squeezing your chin, “You should do what you think is best, baby. I’m here to help not coach.” He whispered as you tried to push him away with a giggle as he pulled you back closer, “For what it’s worth I think you look pretty sexy no matter what.” 

“Stop! You whispered back feeling flustered and giggly pulling away from him as a closed mouth smile tugged on his lips, sitting back down on the couch his eyes were only slightly lidded but you could see what that meant from a mile away. 

“You know what baby? I think we might need to brush up on your lap dancing again,” Jungkook opened his arms, his thighs parting comfortably as he gestured you to his lap, your body immediately warmed as you whined a little, unable to deny him as you shuffled to stand in front of him, attempting to sit on his lap but his hand latched onto your hips stopping you, “Ah...what are you supposed to do before a lap dance baby?” 

You whined again as you shuffled in spot, Jungkook clicked his tongue, his hands tugging down your sweatpants to reveal your panties, you had anticipated getting laid today leaving you in a plain cotton underwear making you semi shy, Jungkook wasn’t having it though as he tugged you onto his lap, “Stop whining,” he whispered in your ear, his hands gripping your thighs before making their way to your ass, “And start making me feel good baby, show me how you do it.” 

You couldn’t resist pressing your face into his neck as your hips began circling against him, you could feel his cock beginning to stir as he let out a soft moan. 

His grip softening on your ass and his hands guided them ever so slightly, your clit beginning to rub just the right way on his jeans making you whine, “Mmph…! Jungkook!” Your hips becoming more desperate as you began grinding on him harder as your clit throbbed pathetically. His hands patiently guided your hips as he suckled tenderly on your neck. 

“That’s it baby, get those panties nice and messy for me.” He moaned softly, his hands squishing the cheeks of your ass in appreciation as you continued to grind against the the growing bulge in his pants, burying your face further into his shoulder as you whined.

“You’re not supposed to touch me during a lap dance…!” This wasn’t fair! Jungkook only squeezed your ass even harder making you jump a little as you were suddenly jostled onto the couch.

“You call that a lap dance baby? I’ve seen you do better.” Jungkook clicked his tongue as confusion washed over you as to what he was doing before you squeaked at one leg being straddled over him, your hands grabbing his stomach for some sort of support but that clearly wasn’t what Jungkook was aiming for, he carelessly pushed your back making you collapse down grabbing his thighs. 

Your face like it was burning at the realization of what position you were in, “...Jungkook!” You whined trying to pathetically crawl away from how close his face was to your throbbing cunt. It was expected for him to forcibly pull you back, a hand slamming against your ass making you squirm with a whimper, “Don’t wanna hear one word about it sweet heart, you know what I want you to do?” Jungkook’s voice dripped patronizingly, “I want you to suck that cock and if you do a good job maybe I’ll give this little cunt a good reward.” 

His hands left no room for debate as you whimpered at the feeling of your panties sticking to your cunt, your hands fumbled with the hem of his sweats before pushing them down along the Calvin Klein’s he was sporting today. His cock bounced in search of you as your lips quivered a little, sure you had slept together too many times to count now but...it didn’t ever make it less intimidating to blow him, especially in a compromising position such as this.

Sucking it up though you positioned yourself onto your forearms before giving a small lick to his irritated tip that was already beginning to dribble with precum, “Don’t you fuckin’ tease baby. That’s not what I asked.” Jungkook growled, his hips lifting a little in chase of your tongue and you couldn’t stop the little giggle that escaped you as you gave another kitten lick to his tip once more. 

Jungkook’s teeth gritted before you squeaked at the feeling of your panties being ripped off at the sides, “Jungkook…! Those were expensive!” Sure they were loungewear but that didn’t make them any cheater!  Jungkook ignored your whine though as you whimpered at his tongue suddenly pressing onto your sensitive little bud, a gasp escaping you as you lowered gaze despite not even being able to look at him, “Mmph…! Jungkook…” you mumbled, your cheeks burning and your hips unable to resist rocking against his tongue as your eyes squeezed shut.

A hand harshly striked the cheek of your ass making you jump as you whimpered, Jungkook’s tongue immediately being removed from your clit, “Suck, suck it you little cockslut, make that mouth useful baby.” Not wanting to prolong any sort of punishment you did as told, positioning yourself as best you could before taking his tip inside your mouth, suckling along his head tender before slowly bobbing your head to take him further.

Jungkook’s hands softened against your hips and you heard a low moan from him before his tongue rewardingly met your clit again, the notion had your thighs squeezing against his head and another whine vibrating against his cock as your head began to bob faster around his cock before you pulled off him to take a deep shaky breath at his persistence in suckling your clit.

Jungkook’s hands guiding your ass to ride against his tongue as your eyes squeezed shut tightly, “Mm! Jungkook…!” It was hard to focus on any sort of task when he was putting you through this, his hands squeezed warningly immediately putting you back to work.

Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock before lightly tugging it, your tongue dragging on the sensitive underside of his shaft. 

A hiss escaped Jungkook’s and his impatience attempting to get the better of him as his hands squeezed your ass before his mouth attached back to your clit, suckling and pressing his tongue down against it, flicking it rapidly making it difficult for you to do anything escape whimper against his cock as you attempted to keep the same energy for him. 

Squeezing a little on his base you took his tip back inside your mouth before bobbing your head as your legs trembled from the force of his tongue roughly playing with your clit, a hand smacking your ass making you jump but your hips were forced to stay in place with no choice but to take it as your eyes began to water. 

Taking his cock further into your mouth intending to go all the way until it hit the back of your throat, you could feel the pleased expression from Jungkook due to his moans of contentment on your cunt, his hands soothingly rubbing your thighs in coax to keep going for him. Wanting to please you hurriedly took a deep breath before slowly sinking further down his cock, your throat immediately stinging unpleasantly and your eyes watering as you heard low moans and long sigh of contentment from Jungkook, “Mmm, what a good girl, so good baby, keep going, keep sucking that cock.” His lips parted, dragging his tongue back to your clit making you gag on his cock as you whined, backing your hips further against his face in desperation. 

You bobbed your head sloppier at the feeling of his tongue delicately flicking your clit before he wrapped his lips around the tiny bud, something about the sensation sending you feral as the orgasm suddenly lit through your veins making you gag and whimper as your body squirmed against him. 

Jungkook’s hips lifted a little at the feeling of your mouth wrapped so tight around him, “Ah fuck! Such a good little slut for me baby, fuuck.” Jungkook let his head rest back on the couch as he sighed contently, his hands soothingly squeezing your ass cheeks as his lips parted a little, “Shit, shit baby! Mmm.” Your throat was painfully stinging and salvia was pooling down your chin before you pulled off him briefly to take a deep breath, “Such a good girl baby,” Jungkook cooed coaxingly, “C’mon baby, ride that cock for me, wanna watch you go dumb on my dick.” 

You whined a little, wiping your face with your arm before you carefully further down the couch, Jungkook’s hands guiding your hips to stop just at his cock which was bobbing in seek of friction. Your walls felt empty clenching around nothing and you wasted no time changing that. 

Sinking down on his tip you closed your eyes as a shallow moan escaped you, the feeling of his thick shaft splitting you open as you began bouncing on top of him. 

“Fuck baby, what a nice little wet cunt, keep going sweetheart, keep fucking going.” Jungkook inhaled through his teeth, trying to compose himself from wildly slamming himself into you like he wanted too, “Faster baby, I know you can take it.” You whine, lowering onto your forearms for more leverage as your hips started bouncing faster, your walls clenching around him harshly and his tip hitting all the right spots inside you as you whined with a shaky breath, sinking all the way down on him slowly before wiggling your hips. 

This notion made something inside Jungkook twitch before he growled impatiently, his tip nearing an angry bright red as he pulled out of you making you jolt a little as you shifted, being broken out of trance as you whined, “Jungkook…!” He wasn’t having any of it though, sitting up he shoved you further down onto the couch making you whimper as he yanked your hips up. 

“I know my little baby was having her fun but do you feel this?” Jungkook situated himself on his knee’s, your cunt presented to him as he slapped his cock against it as your lips quivered, “That’s your fault babydoll.” You didn’t even have a chance to defend yourself before the head of his cock pushed inside you once more only this time being at his complete mercy before Jungkook took liberty and slammed into you.

Your body was being jolted and your hands were hanging onto the couch arm for dear life as you cried out, “Ah! Fuck, fuck, Jungkook…!” You whined at the force his hips were slamming into you at, Jungkook was having none of it though, reaching out as he grabbed a fist full on your hair yanking it as his balls slapped against your skin hard enough to make you weak in the legs. 

“Don’t wanna hear a single word from you baby, you’re gonna be my little fucking cum dump yeah?” Jungkook’s breath was hot against your neck as his cock pushed before inside you, staying nice and snug in your cunt as he roughly thrusted harder into you making your body jostle with every motion. 

Just the thought had your walls squeezing around him as he moaned, “That’s right baby, you want this tiny cunt to be used to take all my cum? My little cumslut.” Jungkook’s jaw clenched at how loud you were beginning to moan, your body withering and shaking which was only giving him more motivation to keep going, his hips slamming harder and harder as your thighs trembled and had a harder time staying up.

“Go on baby, cum all of this cock, I can feel this little cunt wanting it, cum.” Jungkook nearly barked out with a growl, his cheating pressing against your back now, letting go of your hair in trade of your throat as he squeezed it tight making a breathy moan escape you, your vision nearly blacking out at how hard you abruptly came again, not even registering how loud you were moaning and whining beneath him. 

Jungkook pressed his forehead against your shoulder blades as he swore with gritted teeth, his hips burying inside you as he let himself go, hot substance shooting up inside you as he moaned softly, swiveling his hips a little to ride out his orgasm as he buried his face into your neck, “Fuck baby, feels so good.” He mumbled with a rasp as he pecked a kiss on your neck. 

Your body was rapidly trembling and you could hardly even speak as you melted into the couch trying to wrap your brain around how hard you just got railed.

Jungkook happily nuzzled into your neck, a small smile on his face as he began pressing kisses into your neck, “Love my baby so much, you did such a good job.” His hands rubbed against your waist approvingly making you wiggle a little, a tiny smile on your lips as you mumbled, “Were you mad at me…?” 

Jungkook’s nose nudged the crook of your neck against as he shifted a little to lay on top of you, his cock slipping from you making your legs twitch a little as he pressed another kiss on the back of your neck this time, “No? Jus’ wanted to fuck you senseless,” You huffed as he chuckled a little, “You weren’t complaining baby, say it back.” He poked your side as you wiggled a little, “C’mon say it, I wanna hear you say it baby.” 

You whined a little before wiggling, managing to turn yourself over to lay on your back, “Love you too Koo.” Jungkook practically looked like he was glowing as he collapsed against your chest, tiny kisses being placed on your collar bones as you cocooned yourself against him, happily soaking in all of the attention.

Note: It’s been such a cute little break in the story guys!!! I hope you’re prepared for the final four chapters coming up soon because !!! things get a little intense!!

(Taglist CLOSED)

Taglist:   @rkivemagic​​  @megladon1616​​ @pearlneedstosleep​​ @sincerelyjeohn​ @epiphany-playwithfire @maboiisuga​ @kookphoria91​​ @taehyungiev13​@134340ismybitch @appreciatethefoolishness​​ @hanhannguyen98​​ @lurkerarmy​​ @lovelyjkook​ @serendipity-secrets​​ @kimvantaee​ @timestandstillalittle​​ @yanmi1 @expensive-bangtan-girl​ @blxckeffect @kimcheeeeeeeeee @rather-not-sayy @pastel-i-decay @taeass​ @caitlinmarieeblossom @jishookedout134​  @rjsmochii​ @lovethatforme97​ @kthstrawberryshortcake @anonymous2505​ @rainbow-zebra-unicorns​ @namjoonies-dimple​​ @keyaqua123 @kai1697jeon @mochibabycakes​ @min-chimchim03​ @rosewxterbts​ @zazaluvbts​ @thekookiecorner​ @copa-c-havana​ @rapperkookz​  @xhg-btsx​ @intrepide11​ @bts-army46​ @jimintaendem​ @sleepyje0n​​ @vidaficrecs​ @purplelady85​ @jeonsbbgirl​​ @loveyourselfbangtans​ @ausjeons​ @hajimaoppaa​ @l4life

[blossom-hwa]

a little birdie told me to request surfer san at a party idk what that was about but i do kinda want to see skater boy yeosang there too if you're up for that 👀👀👀 heheheheh love u linaaaa <333

/chants/ surfer san surfer san SURFER SAN thank you very much mai for putting this in my inbox I adore you <3 skater yeosang will be up next so I hope you enjoy what I end up spitting out for that one too !

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

Set in the same universe as Kickflip (My Heart) (skater!Yeosang) and Hey, Hey - Let Me Kiss You (surfer!Juyeon) :)

I’m gonna cry this ended up being way longer than I thought it’d be but you know what I’m 100% turning this into a full scenario so fuck it it’ll be as long as it has to be

~

Title: Truth or Dare

Pairing: San x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Triggers: cursing, alcohol, shirtless woosan for a hot minute, implications of sex towards the end (NOTHING GRAPHIC)

~

Okay, so in hindsight, maybe coming to Hongjoong's party knowing you were going to be here was a mistake. In his defense, the water probably wasn’t out of his ears when he told Wooyoung he would come, despite the latter having told him specifically you were going to be there. It probably caused some temporary brain damage. That, and San has never really made the best decision when it comes to crushes. 

Especially you. You’ve been the worst so far. Around all of the others, he’s been able to keep a measure of his confidence, able to flirt a little and initiate something here or there, if it’s reciprocated. But you...

You’re something else. Always have been, ever since Hongjoong introduced him to you in all your gorgeous glory. Which is probably why Wooyoung looked so surprised that San agreed to come without much trouble - he probably thought San would be chicken out immediately and he’d have to convince him. 

San’s here, though, several drinks in and very much buzzed if not drunk, sitting in a circle of people that includes you. Even five or six drunk adults away, San can feel his face heating up when you look in his direction and throw him a wink with that gorgeous smile spread across your face. 

His heart thumps a little faster.

“You look like an idiot,” Wooyoung hisses, jabbing him in the side. “What did I tell you about playing hard to get?”

San rolls his eyes. “Since when did your advice ever make enough sense for me to take it?”

Wooyoung huffs. “You look like a lovesick idiot,” he sniffs. 

San doesn’t deign to reply. 

“Okay, okay.” Hongjoong comes back from wherever he was and settles between Seonghwa and Mingi, a bottle in hand. “Shut up, everyone. We’re playing truth or dare.”

Someone raises an eyebrow. “What is this, high school?”

“The way you all act, I wouldn’t be surprised.” San stifles a laugh at your reply. 

“Says you.” Hongjoong snorts. 

You grin. “Did I ever exclude myself?”

Everyone breaks into laughter that Hongjoong has to calm before setting the bottle in the middle of the circle. “Rules are the same. Spin the bottle, if it lands on you, pick truth or dare. If you chicken out, take a shot.” He raises an eyebrow. “Got it?”

They all get it, even the ones who look a little like they’re on the way to passing out, and so truth or dare begins. 

It’s fun. That might just be because San has been drinking, but when Seonghwa is dared for the second time to write some gross in the air with his butt, he and Wooyoung are falling over each other with tipsy laughter. Hiccuping with giggles, San answers a question about who in this room he’d lick peanut butter off of - “Hongjoong, I like his body.” - and then takes off his shirt for five turns and keeps it off because it’s kind of hot, anyway, and he doesn’t really want to bother putting it back on. Wooyoung isn’t much better - he got dared to take off his pants but Seonghwa forced Yunho to amend it to his shirt, and San pats his friend’s pecs affectionately before the next person goes. 

Eventually, the bottle lands on you. You raise an eyebrow. “Truth.”

“Is there someone you like in this room?” Mingi blurts. 

There’s a chorus of groans, complaints of ‘Okay, this is too high school for me,’ and ‘For real, Mingi? Seriously?’, but San’s attention is on you and the way your expression has turned slightly uncertain for the first time tonight. You bite your lip, staring at the shot glass in your hand like you’re really contemplating chickening out, but then your eyes flicker up and in his direction. 

San’s breath catches in his throat. You didn’t look at him. You definitely didn’t. That was just coincidence. Don’t get your hopes up, San. 

“Alright, alright, shut up.” You raise your voice above the noise of people teasing Mingi. “The answer is yes. I do.”

The complaints turn into oooooohs and wolf whistles and ‘Who is it? Who is it?’ but you’ve already got the bottle in hand and are spinning it in the center of the circle. San barely notices, even when Wooyoung’s hand squeeze his knee - who is the person that you like? There’s like fifteen or twenty people here. It could be any one of them. It’s probably Yeosang. He’s pretty and everyone has had a crush on him at least once. Or Seonghwa? Maybe even Wooyoung?

Cheers erupt all around him and San looks up, startled, to see you glaring at the bottle like it personally wronged you in a past life. 

Because it’s pointing at you again. 

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” someone yells. 

Next to you, Yeosang whispers something in your ear. Your eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would.” Yeosang grins. 

You glare at the bottle some more. “Dare.”

“Everyone shut up, I’ve got this.” San watches in confused silence as Yeosang sits up. “Y/N...” A grin that looks more suited to Wooyoung spreads across his lips. “I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in this room.” 

San’s heart drops with every second that passes. He wants it to be him, badly wants it to be him, but in a room full of people who look like Seonghwa, who look like Dahyun, who look like Juyeon and Chaeyoung and Yeosang and - god, San can’t even list all of the names - 

How would it ever be him?

You make a very rude gesture to Yeosang that has everyone cracking up, but you don’t eye the shot glass this time. Instead, you throw your shoulders back and let your eyes rake over the room. 

“Wooyoung.”

San’s heart drops. Of course it’s Wooyoung, his best friend in every life, one of the prettiest people San himself has ever laid eyes on -

“Move over.” Suddenly, you’re up in San’s face, pushing Wooyoung away. He blinks. When did you come all the way over here? But he doesn’t even have time to ponder the answer to that question because your smile is so close, now, just half a foot separating your lips, and you’re reaching out a hand to cup his cheek and San is short-circuiting as you say -

“Stop me if you don’t want this, okay?”

San blinks. Don’t want what? His heart is beating so fast, faster even than when he catches the highest wave of the afternoon, you’re so close and this is all he’s ever wanted, why would you even imply that this is something he doesn’t want - 

Your lips press against his, and San’s mind goes blank. 

You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him because you think he’s the prettiest person in the room - he, San, Choi San, surfer boy who turned into a mess the day Hongjoong introduced him to you - you think he, of all people in the room, is the prettiest -

It occurs to him that he’s still shirtless. He doesn’t exactly know what to do with that information. 

You pull away and San gasps for breath, eyes staring wide into yours. You smile at him softly, lips slightly swollen with the kiss, and like he’s underwater, San can kind of hear everyone screaming and whistling and whatever in the background, but when you speak, suddenly, everything is crystal clear. 

“Was that okay?” you whisper. 

Yes. Yes. Oh, God, yes - San nods once, twice, three times and then blushes when your smile grows wider and the sparkle he likes so much turns brighter in your eye. 

Nothing he’s ever seen could be more beautiful than you right now, eyes sparkling and lips smiling under the dim lights of the party, pulling him forward for a second kiss.

. . .

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Truth or dare ends, San takes another couple of shots, and you’re somehow by his side the entire time until the party’s over. Both of you stay behind to help clean up a bit, but at around two, Seonghwa shoos the rest of you home, and Wooyoung meets up with San by the door to walk back to the apartment. 

“Move it, Woo.” You appear again, shoving Wooyoung out of the way. “I’m sure San won’t mind if I walk him home instead.”

A horrible grin splits Wooyoung’s features and he nods quickly, giving San a very unsubtle wink made worse by the fact that he drank way more than San did after the game. “Sannie, do you mind?” he asks. Then, not waiting for an answer, he loops an arm through Yeosang’s, who looks very confused. “I’ll see you at home! Or not!”

You and San walk out of the house in silence, mostly because San has too many thoughts at the moment and they’re all jumbling up into one big mess. The euphoria from kissing you earlier has worn off slightly as the alcohol left his system - he’s mostly sober now - which means he’s thinking. Too much. 

“San.” You look over at him, a streetlamp lighting your face. “Come on, I won’t bite.” You smile. “If you have something to ask me, you can say it.”

He blinks. Blinks again. Then, as though your words unleashed a flood in his brain, he asks - 

“Did you really think I was the prettiest person in the room?”

You stare at him, eyes narrowed and surprisingly lucid given how the party went. “Yes, I did. I still do.”

Oh. Oh, okay. San feels a little like he needs to sit down. So the kiss wasn’t just a one time thing - you’d do it again, probably, if he’s interpreting your words correctly - 

“Why?”

This time, you look a little incredulous when the word leaves his mouth. Then you shake your head. “You really don’t think you’re beautiful, do you.” It isn’t a question. 

San ducks his head. For all his usual surfer bravado, the confident face and smile he presents when he’s about to hit the waves, he can’t seem to find the courage to look at you in this moment, to let you really see everything brewing behind his eyes. 

Fingers settle under his chin and tip it up so that he’s looking at you again. “I don’t bite, San,” you remind him again, still smiling. “I happen to think you’re very pretty. Beautiful. And even though I still want to slap Yeosang over the head, I’m very glad he gave me the opportunity to show that tonight.” Your fingers walk upwards to cup his cheek the same way you did when you kissed him. “In case you were wondering, by the way, you were the one I was talking about when I said I liked someone. And I didn’t only kiss you just because you were shirtless.”

A small smile settles on San’s face. It’s strange, the way you seem to be able to read his mind without him saying anything, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it. “I like you too.”

“I know. It was a little obvious.” You laugh when San whines, going red under your touch. “I wanted to say something before, kind of ever since I saw you in that wetsuit when Hongjoong introduced us, but it felt like I’d scare you away.” You raise an eyebrow. “Am I scaring you away now?”

Are you scaring him? A little, kind of, but not in a bad way. It’s more like you thrill him, make his heart race faster and faster the longer your fingers linger on his skin. You’re not scaring him away. If anything, you’re scaring him towards you - it’s weird, but that’s the only way San can describe it. He shakes his head. “No.”

“Good.” You grin. “Because if I was scaring you, you probably wouldn’t want to kiss me, and right now I really want to kiss you again.”

Your lips meet once, twice, three times under the dull glare of the lamp on the empty street, San’s arms settling around your waist, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck. When you break away after the third kiss, eyes hooded and lips swollen enough to make San’s mouth go dry, a soft glint appears in your expression. “Want to come home with me?” you ask. “My roommate’s out of town.” San follows the movement of your eyelashes as you blink. It’s captivating. “Feel free to say no. I won't take offense.” 

If it were anyone else, San doesn’t know if he’d believe them. He might stop it here politely, even tipsy as he is, and ask to just go back to his place instead. But he trusts you. Has trusted you from the day he met you. Because nothing in your words or your face ever seems to mask a lie, and besides, his fingers are itching to find their way up your shirt and somewhere else as he kisses you again and again -

He kisses you, laughing against your lips. “I guess I should let Wooyoung know I’m not coming back tonight.”

“Oh, he’ll get the message even if you don’t say anything.” Your grin is brighter than the stars. “Come on, pretty boy.” You kiss him again. “Let me show you how beautiful I think you are.”

[gomgeomeogmeogmy]

Hi :) my friend recommended me your Tumblr and I've asked stuff before so I thought maybe I should do it again

I really like the theme of this fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/33668362/chapters/83671462 and it hasnt been updated

TW: s3lfh@rm

I'd like to ask for headcanons about Todd dealing with depression and self harm (with Neil helping him cuz i luv anderperry)

I'm sorry if this triggers you, i wanted to see my favourite character dealing with similar struggles as me

Tysm anyways

Okay!! So, before I get into this, I do want to put a HUGE TW on this post, this post WILL mention self-harm and struggles with depression and anxiety.

I want to make it clear: I am by no means attempting to romanticize this topic, as someone who struggles with SH, that is the last thing I ever want to do. If I write something that seems like that, please do not hesitate to call me out.

Here we go! Last TW

Todd dealing with SH and depression/anxiety

Switching to Welton was extremely difficult for Todd, we know this

He felt the pressure of living up to his brothers standards, pleasing his parents, his teachers, and worrying about not fitting in

He always struggled with SH, since he was in grade school, so it was nothing new, but it definitely got a lot worse once he started at Welton

Meeting Neil, Charlie and all the others helped him feel more comfortable, but at the same point it kind of made it harder for him

He couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding in their dynamic, all of them having been friends for their previous years at Welton, a few even before that, and here he was trying to shove his way in

One night, Neil was out late at a play rehearsal and Todd had one of the worst anxiety attacks of his teen years

He wanted so desperately to go get Charlie or Knox, maybe even Meeks, but he couldn’t get himself to, he was so scared of what they would think about him, so he resorted to his usual coping mechanism, self harm

He didn’t want to, but it didn’t feel like he was in control, he didn’t feel like he had a choice

The next few days after that, he was really off, everyone noticed

He was talking even less than usual, walking behind the group instead of with them, wearing extra layers, always seemed to be making himself as small as he possibly could

What really worried them was the way he winced Every time someone touched his leg

Neil and Charlie were the first two who saw it

Charlie had gone to pat Todd’s leg after making a joke, but he quickly pulled his hand away when he saw the pained wince

He and Neil shared a quick, knowing look. Something was seriously wrong

Neil was cautious with Todd the rest of the day, keeping a close eye on him to notice every change in his behavior to see if he could figure out what was wrong

That night, when Todd got up to go to the restroom, Neil got a gut feeling that he needed to look through the trash

He felt weird about it, but he did it, and his heart suck to his feet when he saw the bloodied tissues. Him and charlie were right

Todd walked in right as Neil found them, both of them stopped and stared at each other

“Todd…?”

Todd broke down again, instantly hyperventilating and sobbing and apologizing profusely

Neil panicked, no doubt crying himself as he attempted to comfort his friend

He quickly pulled todd into a tight hug, carefully sitting both of them down on Neil’s bed as he shushed and comforted Todd

After about a half an hour, todd stopped crying, but he was still shaking and refusing to meet Neil’s eyes

(The rest of this will be in writing/story form)

“Todd, you know I’m not angry, right?”

Todd stayed silent, keeping his head down.

“I’m really not mad. I’m just- worried about you… we all are.”

Todd’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and afraid.

“The others know too?!”

“No no no! And-and they won’t know if you don’t want me to tell them, I promise, but you’ve been off for the last few days, we’ve all been worried sick about you, Todd.”

“I’m…im sorry, I don’t want to worry you guys-“

“Well, that’s part of what being a friend is. We love you Todd, I love you, we all just want you to be okay. Can… can I ask why?”

Todd went quiet again, the tension so thick you could slice it with a knife.

“I didn’t want to… I was just-I had an anxiety attack, and I didn’t want to annoy Charlie or Knox or any of the guys, I tried to stop myself but it didn’t feel like I was in control, I’m sor-“

“Todd, you don’t need to apologize. Look, I’ve been there before, okay? I’ve done the same thing, I know exactly what it feels like. I also know that Charlie, Knox and any of the others would never be annoyed if you came to them for help, shit, I think most of them would be flattered that you trusted them enough.”

Todd looked away again, obviously not believing a word Neil said. Neil sighed and grabbed Todd’s hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“I know it’s hard, I know that better than anyone, but we love you, so much todd, all of us do, and we want you to be okay. You don’t have to ever tell us anything you don’t want to, but please, if you ever get the urge again can you just…come to one of us? Any of us, really. You don’t need to give details just-just talk to us, be with us, we care, and we’ll all help as much as we possibly can.”

Todd met Neil’s eyes, and Neil gave him a soft smile. Todd’s eyes grew glossy, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll try…”

Neil’s smile grew. He pulled Todd into a tight hug, and Todd couldn’t help but melt into the comforting touch.

“You’re so important to us Todd. Don’t ever think for a second that we don’t want you around, or that you’re annoying us. We love you so so so much. I love you, so much more than you know. Everyone here just wants you to be okay.”

“I…thank you, Neil.”

Back to HC style

The next day, Todd was already seeming a little better

Neil made sure to keep a close eye on him, but he acted like everything was normal, he knew it sucked to have the attention drawn to you when you weren’t feeling good, so he tried to avoid making that happen

The group was obviously thrilled that they had their Todd back, all of them talking to him and joking with him like they hadn’t seen him in days

Neil and Charlie looked at each other again, charlie giving him an “is everything okay?” Look, to which Neil simply nodded and grinned

Todd might not have been fantastic right now, but he was better than yesterday, and that’s all that really mattered

Please, if you ever have the urge to hurt yourself, reach out to someone you trust or find a way to distract yourself. I know what the feeling is like, I know it all too well, but I can also promise you that it is not worth it.

You are so important, and you do not deserve to be hurt.

If you need alternatives to self harming, please look at this list. It gives lots of good alternatives that are far better than harming yourself in anyway

You are loved, you are important, and you matter. <3

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (5)

all parts in the master list

Note: ‘Someday We’ll Know’ by New Radicals is the song for this part so I recommend listening it while you read, and also regularly because it is a beautiful song - also editing is trash once again because I just write and post like a maniac would

++

The pounding headache you’d woken up with hours ago had now reduced itself to a dull ache behind your eyebrows. It was enough to distract you from the arm wrapped around your waist but not enough to ignore the hard member pressed against the small of your back. 

You knew who was laying behind you and while you knew it was a perfectly natural thing, you felt shock due to the fact the Matthew Tkachuk was sporting wood while cuddled up with your body. 

His breathing was irregular and his heart was beating fast. You could tell because his face was crushed into your neck and his chest was pressed against your back. 

He was awake. 

You had to unwrap yourself from his body without giving him any indication that you knew about his ‘situation.’

*

“Fuck, I really need to pee!” 

She hurried out of the bed and booked it to the bathroom at such a breakneck speed that Matthew was sure he’d gotten away with it. 

He rolled onto his stomach and willed his boner away. This was not the time or place for anything sexual.

Matthew heard the sound of the shower turn on, sighing in relief that she was beginning her day and was probably completely unaware of what had just taken place. 

He sighed heavily and, remembering that there was no game and an evening practice, went back to sleep.

*

“Nope,” you muttered to yourself as the hot water ran down your chest, “this is not a thing I should be feeling. Absolutely fucking not.”

You couldn’t get the feeling of Matthew’s body pressed against yours out of your head and it was annoying because you knew better. 

The civility between the two of you was just blossoming and the last thing you needed was to think about his naked body while the two of you tiptoed around each other masquerading as friends for everyone else’s sake. 

No, it wasn’t a thing. You wouldn’t let it be. You weren’t attracted to him, there was no way you could be. Up until a day or two ago, he wasn’t even nice to you. You weren’t into assholes, and there was no doubt in your mind that Matthew was an asshole. 

While you were on it, what the fuck was with the shit he’d said last night? He wanted to cuddle with you, when twenty-four hours prior he had you sleeping alone on the floor?

Sure, he’d been drunk but still, it didn’t make any fucking sense. As far as you knew, you were not Matthew’s type and didn’t think even drunk him would have any interest in touching you. 

You chalked it up to just another reason you could say he was an asshole decided to read anything into it. 

The once hot water was now barely room temperature by the time you’d worked through your thoughts and you almost finished your shower until another thing, not from the night before, came to mind.

‘You ought to get dressed though, you’ve got goosebumps like all over your body.’

‘All over your body.’

Why was he looking so closely in the first place? 

*

Matthew knocked on the bathroom door to make sure he was completely alone, though hours had gone by and there was no way she was still in the shower.

The lack of response from the other side of the door made had him smiling as he entered to brush his teeth and take his own shower. 

He noted the few products that weren’t his sitting on the shower shelf. Picking up one of the bottles and rolling it in his hand he wondered out loud, “Lord of Misrule? What the fuck is Lush?”

Matthew was a 3-in-1 type of guy. Fancy bath products didn’t do it for him, what was the point? That didn’t stop him from using it anyway. 

Thinking about the previous night, the earliest thing he could clearly recall was taking his first round of shots. Everything else was a mess of fragmented memories but he knew that he wouldn’t have initiated such closeness between the two of them. He barely liked her, hell, he barely even knew her (not like that had stopped him before) but he wouldn’t mess around with somebody on staff, even he had his limits.

He didn’t think she liked him either but he knew he didn’t pull her into him, so that meant she was the one that started it. 

“Maybe she’s been cold to me because she’s into me and she can’t do anything about it,” he mused and squirted more shower gel into his hand, “that’s got to be it.”

*

You went about your day as normally as you could, opting not to watch practice because you weren’t ready to see Matthew after this morning’s debacle. 

It wasn’t until about 10 in the evening that you decided it was time to leave the arena and head back to the hotel. You’d been working slow, forcing the time to pass but you were tired and knew you’d have to face him eventually. 

Only tonight and tomorrow were left until the Flames would be heading back home and you could resume sleeping alone in the comfort of your own home. 

You hoped Matthew would be sleeping when you got back, but much to your disappointment, he was sitting up in bed with his face in his phone and AirPods in his ears. 

“Where have you been? It’s really late.”

“Had work to do,” you mumbled as you grabbed your pajamas and headed into the bathroom to change. 

You changed, brushed your teeth and washed your face at a glacial pace. Twenty-five minutes had to have passed when you exited the bathroom and sat down on your side of the bed. 

“There’s something I want to talk to you about and I think it might be a kind of touchy subject, but we should address it.”

Oh god, what was he talking about?

“Uh, ok, what’s up?”

“Look, I know it’s probably hard for you to be around me, feeling the way you do and all, but it doesn’t have to be weird.”

Feeling the way you feel? What the fuck did that mean?

“What are you talking about?”

“I figured out why last night happened and why you’ve been so cold to me all this time. You like me.”

The fuck?!

The little smirk resting on his lips was begging to be slapped off. You had never given him any indication that you were interested in him at all. Until this morning, you thought nothing positive about Matthew Tkachuk and those few positive thoughts were strictly physical. Yeah, he was definitely an asshole.

“I, the opposite of like you, Matthew. When have I ever given you the green light that I might be interested? We don’t even fucking look at each other most of the time. This roadie is the most we’ve ever even talked to each other. What makes you think I would want someone like you?”

“You clearly cuddled with me all night, that’s what makes me think you would ‘want someone like me!’ I would never be the one to pull the trigger when it came to getting close to someone like you.” 

“You don’t remember last night, do you?”

“Most of it is a blur, yes, but that-“

“You came in hammered drunk and told me you wanted to hold me and then we went to sleep,” you cut him off. “Don’t think I didn’t feel your fucking dick shoved into my back this morning. You started this, Matthew. I don’t feel any ounce of attraction, physically or emotionally, to you at all.” 

It wasn’t entirely the truth but you were pissed. How fucking arrogant was he that he thought you had feelings for him when he was the one making the first move by coming back for a drunk cuddle?

His face was beat red, “that can’t be true, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, you did and I stupidly let you for whatever fucking reason. I should’ve forced you to go to sleep and spent another night on the floor.” 

He didn’t respond, instead focusing all his attention on the corner of the blanket he was kneading between his fingers.

“This is hopeless, Matthew. You and I are just two people who will never get along. Our personalities don’t mesh at all and that’s fine. We need to go to sleep though, two games two days in a row is going to be a bitch.” 

Flicking off the light, neither of you bothered to say goodnight as you both stayed on your respective edges of the bed, putting as much space between you as possible. 

---

Your respective alarms went off within fifteen minutes of each other, and like robots, you both got prepared for the day ahead without a word to one another. You both left for team breakfast at the same time, you heading in the direction of the staff and Matthew going off to join the players.

“So how’s it going with Tkachuk?”

“I mean, it could obviously be better. He’s making it pretty fucking hard for me to continue liking this job.” 

“I have tea,” one of the newer assistants spoke up, “if you’re interested.”

“About me?” 

“Yep, about you and concerning Tkachuk. Only if you’re interested though,” I smile played at her lips and you could tell she was dying to spill whatever secrets she was keeping.

“Hit me with it.”

“I was asked to go out with the group of guys the other night to make sure no one got in too much trouble, so I was there for everything that happened and while I know that he was very drunk when he shouted it across the bar,” she leaned in and the rest of you mimicked her action, “he doesn’t hate you at all. He’s actually pretty fucking interested in getting to know you in a much more intimate setting.”

“Bullshit.”

“He said it, I swear!”

“I believe he said it, but he was drunk and when he came back to the hotel room and insisted on cuddling until we fell asleep, he was drunk then too.”

“Wait, what?!” 

Several people started talking at once, asking you questions and making assumptions. 

“Nothing happened,” you raised your voice a little to silence them, “honestly. I’d never, especially not with him. I had also been drinking wine too so my guard was down but it was stupid and he acted even more idiotic about it the next morning.” 

You recounted what you could remember of the other night and yesterday morning when he claimed you were the one to make the first move because you ‘liked’ him. It was probably something that should’ve stayed private, but if Matthew was going to say what he did at the bar, drunk or not, and blame everything on you, you figured you’d share your side of the story.

*

“One more night with your best friend and then you’re home free, Chuky.”

“I absolutely cannot wait, and the next time there’s an issue with the rooms and she ends up as my bedmate, one of you will be fucking trading with me.”

“I don’t know, man,” Gio clapped him on the shoulder, “I love a good, slow burning love story and this one has been incredibly entertaining.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” 

“You’re kind of into her, I can tell.”

“I am not into her. Not even a tiny fucking bit, man. Don’t spread that shit around.”

“Why? You don’t want her to find out?”

“There’s nothing to find out. I’m not into her.”

“Ok, man, don’t get so defensive. You’re not into her.”

“Yeah, you definitely can’t stand her,” Noah Hanifin piped up, “that’s why you told the whole bar you’d fuck her into the shitty hotel mattress if she’d give you the chance!”

“Don’t fucking lie man, I didn’t say that.” 

“You did, but I’ll let you pretend like it was a drunken moment and not repressed pining.”

“Shut up, all of you, if you want me to get my shit together on the ice, you should stop bringing her up.”

It was petty and every one of them knew it but they didn’t want to frazzle Matt even more than he already was, so the subject was quickly dropped. 

*

The Flames won in a 4-0 shutout.

Game Two was a complete success and instead of the players going out on their own, a bar was rented out and everyone was in attendance. 

Ignoring Matthew was pretty easy at first. He scored one of the goals so plenty of the other guys were on him but as the night went on and the booze continued to flow, he found you. 

“Hey,” he slurred slightly, “sorry about this morning and last night. I was wrong to assume, you know what they say when you assume.”

You were pleasantly tipsy and not entirely bothered by his presence at the current moment, so you humored him.

“No, what do they say?” 

“When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.”

“You mean when you assume, because I made no assumptions but you certainly did.” 

“Yeah, I did. I’m sorry.”

There was something about the way he was looking at you at that moment, coupled with the song playing over the speakers at the bar that had you feeling some sort of way. 

‘Someday we’ll know if love can move mountain. 

Someday we’ll know  why the sky is blue. 

Someday we’ll know  why I wasn’t meant for you.’

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t do this tomorrow,” you placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned up on your toes to press your lips against his. 

[tataswish]

❝   at the rooftop  /  myg.

━   ・  paring:  aspiring rapper!min yoongi x reader. ━   ・ genre:  neighbors au, smut, fluff, with a pinch of angst. ━   ・ word count:  5.0k.   ━   ・  contains:  mutual pining, dirty talk, unprotective sex (wrap it before you tap it!), rooftop sex, and a little bit of sadness at the end. ━   ・  summary:  in which you look back at the memories you’ve made with yoongi, the neighbor who you once fell in love with. heavily inspired by the song ‘the one that got away.’

author’s note:  i had a dream about this so... here it is. LMAO. it’s been i while since i last wrote so excuse my rambling but happy reading! i thought about making a mini series out of this but... we’ll see. <3

The day you first met Min Yoongi was a memory you always looked fondly back at.

It happened one gloomy afternoon. After another tiresome day at work, you decided to find solace on your apartment building’s rooftop—a place that easily became your go-to whenever you wanted to spend time in solitude. No one ever really was up there (with the exception of the parties thrown by residents from time to time), so it was always strange seeing someone else who wasn’t you up there.

There was something about that place that brings you so much comfort. Maybe it was the string lights that hang perfectly across the ledges, the mixture of house plants displayed around the area, or the inviting smell of vanilla greeting your nose from the candles on almost every surface—it was nice. If the chance presented itself, you would be there for hours on end doing nothing and be content with it.

Making your way towards the rattan sofa that sat right beside the ledge, your tracks were suddenly put to a stop upon seeing an unfamiliar face sitting at that very same spot. He was leaning back on one side of  the off-white cushion, legs slightly spread apart, chilled bottle of beer in hand as his eyes gaze absentmindedly at the view of the city skyline beside him. He must’ve been so lost in thought, because even with you standing in front of him, he didn’t move.

“Is that seat taken?” you asked amidst the silence while feigning a warm smile.

That was enough for him to finally snap out of his trance, because you could see him jump from his spot and immediately straighten his posture. You couldn’t help but stifle a soft laugh. “No—no, yeah, no. It’s not. I was getting ready to leave anyway, so—” he was already beginning to stand from where he was sitting, obviously flustered at the situation he’s been put in.

“I don’t mind sharing!” you interjected before impulsively placing a hand on the stranger’s arm as some sort of reassurance. At the realization, your eyes began to grow two times its size, and you retracted it at an instant with your cheeks flushed.

It was silent for a moment. Between you trying to gage how he felt about the sudden contact and him wondering what the fuck just happened, it clearly triggered some sort of fight of flight response. Your mind was scrambling, trying to find the right thing to say, but before you could even open your mouth—

He laughed. It was a low, yet bubbly laugh—one that you never thought would eventually fall in love with. As the lights above perfectly illuminated his features, that moment was also the first time you saw him smile. There was something stirring up within you, a feeling that gave you so much warmth from merely watching this stranger express happiness, even if it was for a brief moment.

In fact, it was so contagious that you began to laugh too.

You didn’t think you’d enjoy being comfortable with silence until you met Yoongi. Despite the fact that you spent a majority of that evening sitting in silence, it didn’t bother you at all. In most instances with others, you almost always felt obligated to say something, anything after a while but you didn’t feel that pressure with him—this stranger that you’ve only met three hours ago.

Still, you basked in the moment. The two of you sat together on that large couch, sharing the view. You were sitting with your legs criss-crossed, both arms resting over them, while Yoongi relaxed by sinking deeper into the cushion, one arm resting on the couch’s back—which was also right behind yours. You immediately learned that he, unlike yourself, wasn’t much of a talker. In the few hours you’ve spent with him on the rooftop, you’ve only learned: his name, age, and the fact that he moved into this building just today. Why? That was a mystery you’ve yet to discover. You also didn’t want to be that person who practically interrogates the new guy, trying to discover his whole life story in the span of one night. If he was living in the same building, you were confident you’d see him around from time to time anyway. Besides, it was evident that the two of you were already comfortable with each other’s presence.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” The question took you by surprise. From staring at the skyline, he then glanced back at you, eyebrow slightly cocked.

It took you a minute to think of something. If Yoongi was the type of person who took people’s music tastes seriously, you wanted to make sure you’d give a solid response—but then again, you wanted to avoid an obvious copout answer either. Truth be told, your music taste was all over the place. Shuffling any of your Spotify playlists was a dangerous game, because it could jump from contrasting genres that wouldn’t make any sense.

So you kind of… panicked.

“I like anything,” you blurted out, already regretting your choice of words. Deep inside, you were cringing, because it left a bad taste in your mouth.

You knew he was going to be disapproving of that answer, but he surprised you with a different reaction instead. Instead, he let out a small chuckle. “Anything, huh? What about rap? I have something I want you to listen to.”

Intrigued, you adjusted your position on the couch, eyes watching him as he shuffled to get his phone out of his pocket. The black, chunky headphones that hugged his neck were then offered to you, and you flashed a small grin upon taking it before putting it on yourself. At this point you were curious. So, your prying set of eyes continued to watch his phone’s screen as he scrolled through a list of what seemed to be recordings until selecting a file that was named Trivia 轉: Seesaw.

You weren’t sure what to expect. Initially, you thought this was some random song recommendation that he wanted to share with you, but it was much more than that. The moment you heard the artist of this track begin to sing the first verse, you were left in shock. “Is this you?” you mouthed quietly over to him, who to your surprise, was now sitting incredibly close to you. It took you a minute to notice the way that your knees were pressed against one another, faces inches apart.

He smiled bashfully with a nod. Truth be told, you didn’t expect it. Yet, you were sitting there, head nodding to the beat as the melody graced your ears. Despite only knowing him for only three hours, you knew that there was something about this song that… suited him so well. You weren’t sure if it was the eloquent rapping or the deep lyrics behind it, it all screamed Yoongi.

And you were in love with it. It became one of your favorite things to listen to.

“I can’t believe…” you trailed off once the song finished, gently lifting the headphones off of you to give them back. “I went on with my life without being blessed by this song until now. Yoongi, that was fucking amazing. If I knew you longer, I would’ve started crying but… I spared you the misery tonight.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, flattered—but feeling shy at the same time. “Relax, ____, you don’t have to kiss my ass. I can take criticism. It hasn’t even been released yet; I just wanted to get your opinion on it.” Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he looked at you expectantly. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m serious, Yoongi. I swear on my life,” you assured softly, a smile growing across your lips as your hand raises to swear by it. “It’s definitely one of those songs that people are going to play on repeat. Everyone’s going to love it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, attempting to hide his widening grin.

At this point your gazes were locked with one another, and you could’ve sworn he could hear the rampant beating of your heart. “Yeah,” you confidently answered back.

Later that night was the time you discovered that Min Yoongi was actually your newfound neighbor. It all happened by accident—the two of you meant to part ways after leaving the rooftop, but ended up taking the same flight of stairs down, walking through the same hallway, and stopping right next to each other after saying “bye” at the same time upon reaching both of your doors.

“Stalking me already? Really?” you quipped playfully, looking back after opening your door.

“How do I know you’re not stalking me first?” he joked in return, suggestively raising an eyebrow. He finished unlocking his own door too.

“I mean, I lived here first, so… pack it up Joe from You.” And your answer was enough for the two of you to fall into a giggling fit after.

Yoongi was the first to say goodbye. He continued to stand before his door, hand on the knob despite not wanting to step inside any time soon. “Thanks for letting me crash your alone time today... and for listening to my shitty music. It was nice.”

“Of course,” you replied warmly. “I won’t argue with you, but know that as of today, I’ve become Suga’s #1 fan. Expect me to be in the front row of your shows from now on.”

Even with the roll of his eyes, you could clearly tell that he was amused. “Night, _____. Just don’t fall in love with me, alright? I don’t date fans.”

“Sweet dreams, neighbor. And don’t worry, I don’t plan on falling in love with you any time soon.”

Yet somewhere along the way, you found yourself falling in love.

He’d been your neighbor for a few months now, and the two of you practically became attached to the hip. You later learned that when he first moved into the city, he didn’t expect to make any sort of friends. Yoongi only planned on making music 24/7—hoping to kickstart his music career after some time. Apparently, before he moved into your building, he was working in some financial firm crunching numbers for eight hours straight. He was engaged too. But, when he revealed to his fiancée (now ex fiancée) that he wanted to quit his job and pursue music… she didn’t take it very well. So, they later separated and Yoongi searched for a new beginning in a city miles away from everything he once knew.

Unlike his ex, you strove to become extremely supportive of his music career. In fact, he was supportive of your teaching career too. On Wednesday mornings, he would always volunteer to come into your classroom and sing a few songs in front of your kindergarten students during circle time. He’d also stay to read a book or two before heading out to get lunch—only to wait for your break so that the two of you could eat together. Then on Friday nights, you would be standing front row in his shows. While his venues were mostly at nightclubs and the city nightlife wasn’t your thing, you were still there—singing along to his music and at times making the best attempt to rap as fast as he could. You’d wait for him by the back after his set, and it became a tradition to head to the nearest convenience store to fill up on ramen, alcohol, and shrimp chips (a staple for every night in).

It was hard not to fall for someone like Yoongi. There was just something about him that you absolutely adored, and even though you were sure he didn’t reciprocate those feelings in that way, you were okay with that. Having him be a part of your life was enough.

The two of you always joked about it though, how you were each other’s soulmates. How one would always complete the other; plus, sharing this sort of mutual understanding that doesn’t need to be talked about. You’ve never felt this strong pull with anyone else, and he’s admitted it too.

“There she is,” you heard the familiar voice coo from afar. Looking up from your phone, you spotted Yoongi leaving through the back door of the nightclub, approaching as if you were the one who just finished performing a show. Still, the grin on your lips couldn’t stop spreading at the sight of him.

“Oh my god, Suga! I’m like, your biggest fan! Can I get a picture?!” you shrieked, attempting to put on your best impression of the teenage girls who’ve been approaching him often lately. Even with all of his shows taking place in venues that only allowed people over the age of twenty, he still harbored a lot of young fans. While they weren’t allowed to watch his shows, they showed their support in other ways.

He rolled his eyes but attained the beaming smile swept across his lips. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve discovered that Yoongi was never really one to crack a smile with others. But with you? You were the only exception to that.

His skin was glistening from the beads of sweat that trickled down after performing, and you took it upon yourself to gingerly sweep his coffee-colored bangs off of his face with your fingers. He was staring at you at this point, and you were desperately trying to keep it together without melting into putty in his hands. Because one thing’s for sure—the way he looks at you will always be your weakness. “What?” you challenged, now using a tissue you pulled from your bag to lightly dab his facial features. Your voice was faint, quiet enough to still be heard with your faces only inches apart.

“Nothing,” he replied lowly, stifling a small laugh. “I like looking at you.”

After another successful trip to the convenience store, you and Yoongi went back home to change into more comfortable clothes before meeting back up at the rooftop. It was nearing midnight, so the city was getting ready to turn in. The buildings gradually began to turn their lights off, which only made the stars littered across the night sky shine brighter than before. The rooftop was well-lit thanks to the string lights and candles around you, and even with the cool December breeze sweeping through, you were comfy underneath the plush blanket that wrapped around both of your bodies.

It was nights like this that you held special to your heart.

“Be honest with me,” Yoongi brought up amidst the comfortable silence. He placed the plastic bowl that held his ramen onto the coffee table in front of him before looking back at you. “Do you think I made a mistake? You know… leaving everything in my old life behind to do this? I mean—don’t get me wrong, I love it, I just… feel guilty. There’s always this voice in the back of my head that’s yelling at me for being selfish. My life was fine before, you know? I screwed it all up.”

You blinked slowly. It wasn’t the first time he’d shared his doubts with you, but it was always concerning how much it lingered in his head. At the end of the day, what’s done is done. No matter how many times he feels guilty, he shouldn’t look back anymore. This was his life now.

But how could you put it into words that’ll make him understand?

Finishing your food after setting your own bowl down, you took a moment to process everything and think of an answer. You knew very well that you weren’t some licensed therapist capable of giving credited advice, but you were fairly decent at providing comfort to others. “I don’t think so,” you finally replied, keeping your gaze on him steady. “You have to think about it this way, Yoongi. Yeah you were fine before, but… were you happy? Like, actually happy? And are you happy now?”

Those questions left Yoongi speechless. He really took the time to ponder on it, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. You tried to read his expressions, though, it wasn’t any help. It was quiet. Aside from the soft music playing in the background from the small bluetooth speaker that sat on the ledge, the silence that simmered between you two was piercing.

“I guess I wasn’t,” he breathed after a short sigh. “I was miserable.”

You felt his pain at that moment. There was something about the way he said it—how it made your heart wrench and your stomach churn. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he waved it off, and you could sense the slight frustration in his tone. “If anything, meeting you made everything better.”

Biting back a smile, you instantly began to feel the heat rush through your cheeks. Your chest was pounding and your head was dizzy—shocked at how those little words could make your head go haywire. Still, you did your very best in keeping it collected. “Yeah?” you asked, sounding hopeful. Your glistening eyes met his, shifting your body a bit to fully face his.

“Yeah,” he reassured, unable to keep his smile any longer.

That very night was the night Yoongi decided to be bold. He brought a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind ear, only to lessen the distance between both of your faces. Even with your head spinning, you were still able to admire his soft features—the way his eyes literally sparkled when they looked at you, the way his rosy cheeks from the alcohol became more prominent. “You make me so fucking happy, ____. I thought you were just going to be another face I’d see from time to time when we met that night, but… you became more than that. I think I’m in love with you.”

And at that moment, it felt like time had stopped between you two. That nothing else mattered in the world aside from the fact that Min Yoongi—the neighbor you fell in love with—felt the same way.

“Be honest with me,” you decided to match his boldness by using a free hand to gently sweep his bangs off of his face. They were trembling a little, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes kept its focus on you and you only, feigning that same look that always makes you crumble.

He nodded, egging you to continue.

“Would you kiss me right now if I asked?”

Your lips were immediately met by his. It was sweet, and you could taste the hint of ramen broth and beer that lingered. The way his lips felt matched the way that he kissed you—soft, and tender. His hands found their way on your hips beneath the blanket your bodies shared, while yours rested perfectly on both sides of his jaw. With chests pressed against one another, you noticed that his heart was pounding too. And that only made you smile in between kisses.

At this point, neither one of you wanted to pull apart. Instead, your lips were roughly colliding in full-force, the intensity of the kiss amplifying. Yoongi’s hand began to trail down further until his fingers reached the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitched at his touch, desperately wanting him to explore further. But he chose to stop. “Yoongi,” you said his name in an unintentional soft whine after pulling away, practically begging for more friction.

Rational thinking was thrown out of the window tonight. You were riding from the high of Yoongi practically confessing his love for you, and all you wanted to do was have him. All of him.

“Hm?” he let out a quiet hum, fingers dancing closer and closer. His lips continued to wander across your skin, peppering kisses all over your neck and down to your exposed collar bones.

“Touch me,” you whispered into his ear. “Please.”

He didn’t waste another moment. He reached over to slide your pajama pants down in one quick pull and you assisted in kicking them out of the way. It gave him leeway to use the pads of his fingers to gently massage your clothed core, pressing just enough to provide pressure that had your lips leaving quiet moans that were thankfully, still masked by the music in the background. “Take this off and spread your legs for me,” he demanded lowly.

You’ve never seen this side of him before—but god he knew how to turn you on. If the blanket wasn’t over you right now, you would’ve felt exposed from the wetness pooling in between your thighs. But you did as you were told without any hesitation, sliding your panties down until they hugged your ankles, kicking them off entirely, leaving your bottom half bare beneath the warm fabric.

Yoongi took it as a cue to slide his fingers between your legs and prying them apart. You’ve never felt more vulnerable than at this moment. Even with the blanket hovered securely over your body, the way his gaze was on you was more than enough to make you feel like he owned you tonight. And you were okay with that. Slender fingers dipping into your dripping core, he used it as a way to collect the overflown juices before using it as a lubricant to massage your throbbing clit. His pace was agonizingly slow, but it still made your back arch off of the couch in pleasure.

The sight only made him mumble profanities under his breath.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself, ____?” he asked, dark eyes still locked on yours. He was still close, and you could feel his hot breath tickle your skin at each word. Slowly inserting two fingers on the get-go, your eyes impulsively roll back at the way they stretched your walls in the best possible way. His pace soon began to quicken without a fair warning, and you couldn’t help but whimper each time they pump into your g-spot. “Do you think about me fucking you like this?”

Your headspace was such a euphoric state that you couldn’t even find the right words for an answer. Rather than saying anything, you only nodded feverishly to let him know that he was doing everything right. The thought of having Yoongi’s fingers fucking tirelessly inside you was more than enough to rile you up and near your orgasm.

You’ve thought about it multiple times before. Every time you see him on that stage, swiping the sweat off of the back of his neck that left his fingers glistening, your mind begins to wander into dangerous places. It was hot—there’s no denying it.

You were close. But as soon as you were about to finish, the momentum was put to a stop, because you took it upon yourself to remove his fingers out of you on your own. Confused, Yoongi began to look at you as if he’s done something wrong, though, you hoped he’d get the hint the minute your hand found its way to palm his hardening erection through his sweatpants. “I wanna finish inside you,” you breathed, planting kisses that began from his neck and worked its way up to his lips.

“Then do it.”

Using both of your hands to pull both his sweatpants and boxer briefs down, allowing for his length to spring free. After he successfully kicked them both off of him, you stood from your previous position to straddle him, putting both hands on his shoulders to support yourself. His eyes carefully watched you as you slowly unzipped your hoodie, revealing that you wore nothing underneath.

He was mesmerized. And it was all for him—with the blanket still covering both of your bare bodies, he was the only one who could see you like this. No one else.

A devilish grin laced your lips at the sight of him speechless as you helped remove his sweatshirt. Slowly but surely, you lifted yourself up slightly to line Yoongi’s erection up before sinking in.

The two of you both let out a satisfied moan in unison, and Yoongi’s hands began to wander around your warm body—hands stopping at your ass to dig his fingers into your flesh as you rocked your hips at a steady pace. His mouth on the other hand was busy with your breasts, tongue flicking against each hardened nipple even as they bounced.

“Do you think about me fucking you like this?” you mimicked him in a playful yet sultry tone, using both of your hands to lift his face up in order to make full-on eye contact with you while you continued to ride him. He threw his head back in response, all while still keeping his gaze on yours. From his expression alone, you could tell that he was wrapped around your fingers.

But instead of giving you any sort of real answer, he rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a kiss, satisfying his craving for your lips once more. Before you knew it, your positions had switched, and you were fully lying down on the couch with Yoongi on top of you. The blanket had been partially discarded since Yoongi couldn’t care less about it, only draping over the bottom half of your bodies. You let out a small shiver as you felt the cold air, but it all seemed to disappear the minute you felt his length fill you up once more.

“You’re my weakness, _____,” you heard him say softly once your foreheads touch, his lips brushing against yours. His thrusts were at a slow pace, but it was still enough to hit your g-spot each time. “After meeting you that night, I knew I was fucked.”

It was unfair—how Min Yoongi knew how to tug your heartstrings in any situation (literally). There was nothing more intimate than this, though. The two of you were left vulnerable, and he found the perfect moment to say it. “I feel the same way,” you whispered, hands lifted up to cup his flushed cheeks. “Because I think I’m in love with you too.”

Yoongi began to pick up the pace upon hearing you confess. With one hand gripping tightly on the couch’s arm rest until his knuckles turn white, another snuck in between your bodies to have his thumb rub your clit, matching the intensity of his thrusts.

“Yoongi, I’m so close—” you whined quietly into his ear while he continued to fuck you senselessly, walls fluttering and tightening around him. There was that familiar feeling building up inside you, and you were so close to coming undone. Yoongi continued to snap his hips into yours while tracing quick circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves until you felt yourself let go. Your body jolted as you cried in please, and even then, he didn’t stop. He milked every last drop of the wave of pleasure he’d given you that left you out of breath. There was this buzzing that refused to leave your ears, and your eyes were watery from the overwhelming feeling.

Smirking in satisfaction, each thrust became more sloppy and erratic. It didn’t take long for him to follow suit, pulling out to finish on you. He groaned as you felt his warmth spill across your frame, panting from the intense session the two of you just shared.

“Damn, I made a mess,” he said playfully after reaching out for a napkin on the table to wipe your body clean, which earned a soft slap on his end. He only laughed once you were able to sit back up, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on the lips.

Once the two of you were finished getting dressed and cleaning the area, you both decided to stay on the rooftop for a few more minutes. Both of you were nuzzled against one another for warmth, your back pressed against Yoongi while he had an arm wrapped around you. SUGAR by BROCKHAMPTON was playing in the background, and Yoongi was singing softly to the chorus while you quietly admired his small performance.  

“Remember when you said you wouldn’t fall in love with a fan?” the words left your lips with a smile, recalling the memory like it was only yesterday. At this point, you were just there to tease him. “Tsk. Can’t believe I’m into a hypocrite.”

He laughed, nose digging into your hair. “You’re different. I’d do anything for you.”

↳   PRESENT DAY.

“Ready to go, babe?”

You’ve spent the past hour sitting on the rooftop’s sofa in solitude, admiring the blue sky in front of you. You were quietly humming to Suga’s Trivia 轉: Seesaw to yourself as you watched the view, until you were interrupted by the familiar voice entering your ears. The smile on your face widened as he approached you, offering a hand to help you up.

It’d been months since you’ve last heard from Yoongi. He was off doing bigger, better things—and you were proud of him for that. After spending hours and hours of going back and forth with one another one night, the two of you had the realization that the long-term goals you both had didn’t align. He was asked to commit to a world tour for the next year and a half, and you wanted to stay where your life was. Here.

Yoongi was more than willing to drop his entire career to be with you, but you knew it wasn’t right. So, no matter how painful it felt, you had to let go. He’s made so many sacrifices to get to where he was, and you refused to be the reason why he couldn’t live his dreams. No matter how much you both loved each other.

Deep inside, you’ve always hoped that he’d come home. That one night you’d find him sitting in that very same spot on the rooftop, legs sprawled apart, absentmindedly staring at the night sky. But it’s been months. No calls, no texts—only a meek dial tone at the end of the line.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Min Yoongi was simply the right person you’ve met at the wrong time.

“Yeah,” you answered Jungkook softly before taking his hand to lift yourself from the seat. A quiet giggle left your lips once your boyfriend pulled you closer to pepper kisses on your cheek, and the two of you began your walk out of the building. “Let’s get out of here.”

[vacant--body]

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of unaliving self, PTSD, Bucky have flash backs, vomiting, loss of pregnancy, ED if you squint, lots and lots and lots of angst. sad, saaaad, Bucky :(

female!reader x steve and bucky love triangle (not as much here)

Side note: HI! I'M SO SORRY! I LOVE YOU ALL:) *also if the text is in italics it means there's a flashback*

part 1

✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿

It had been almost a month since Bucky had last seen Y/N. Tony and Steve thought it was best for Y/N to be admitted to the psychiatric ward at the near by hospital. But you have been gone a month. And you didn't put Bucky down on the approved list of people that could come visit you. The only thing he had left of you was the last conversation you guys had, and it was slowly driving him insane.

"Bucky? Where are they taking me? I don't wanna go." You were still loopy from the anesthesia Banner had used during your surgery. The way you were talking to him made it seem like you had just forgotten everything that had happened over the last 3 months.

"Shh, it's okay." Bucky said softly. Talking still hurt his throat. "But you gotta. You gotta get better, okay?" You nodded and sniffled. "Don't cry doll. It's all gonna be okay." He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, like he always did when you were upset.

"What happened to your face?" You muttered, your fingers grazing across the cut on his cheek bone. Bucky flinched at your touch, not wanting to remember how it felt.

"Don't worry, doll. Just get some rest. I'll see you soon." Bucky stood up from beside the cot and nodded at the paramedics who were standing close by to take you to the hospital.

"Bucky?" You asked quietly.

"Yeah, doll?" He could feel the hot tears in his eyes getting ready to spill over.

"I love you."

"Bucky," Sam tapped his shoulder. "Are you listening?"

"Sorry." He mumbled. "Just thinking." He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, wringing his hands together.

"I asked how you were doing?" Sam repeated.

"I'm fine."

"Don't do that Buck." He scoffed, slumping into his chair. "You gotta talk about this shit, man. And I know you normally talk to Steve but-"

"Sam, don't."

"Bucky-"

"I don't need your fucking pity.” Bucky growled, getting to his feet. Sam stared into his eyes with exactly what Bucky was upset about; pity.

"I am trying, damnit." Sam seethed through his teeth. "I am trying to hold you together and I am trying to hold Steve together. I hate being the middle man but if you two want to act like you're in high school and give each other the silent treatment, then I'll do it. I don't like seeing my friends hurting." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "You are very clearing showing signs of PTSD, and if you just let me help you, I can try to make it better."

"Everyone hates me, Sam." Bucky changed the subject.

"No, they don't. They're worried about you." Sam tossed his arms up in the air, exasperated. "You and Steve lost so much in one night, they're scared for you. They are mourning with you, Bucky. Please understand that."

Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I gotta go, this was pointless."

"Bucky-" He didn't hear what else Sam had to say before he shut the door to his office behind him and stormed down the hallway. He scoffed and shook his head. Fucking therapy. Tony had forced him to go or else he was sending him some place like Y/N was. He didn't need it anybody’s help, he was fine.

Bucky had wondered around the compound for hours after been you’d taken away, unsure of where he was going. This place felt so empty without Y/N here. He felt so empty. He found himself standing outside Steve's room after walking for hours. The sun was starting to rise now. His arm jerked as if he wanted to knock on the door, but he couldn't do it.

Then why did he knock?

Steve opened the door and was standing in front of him, eyes red from crying. His hair a mess. He definitely didn't look like the calm and collected Captain America.

"What the fuck do you want?" He spat, glaring down at his best friend.

"I-" Bucky was at a loss for words. "I don't know."

Steve laughed bitterly. "Get the fuck out of my face before I knock your teeth out."

"Steve, please-" Bucky's voice broke. "I need-I need you. Please."

"You need me?" Steve hissed. "What about what I need, huh? Does how I feel just not matter to you?”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, staring down at his feet. He couldn’t look Steve in the eyes any longer.

“You were fucking her.” Steve laughed, almost as it was a joke. “You were fucking my girl. You got my girl pregnant, and she tried to kill herself. Because of you, Bucky. So get out of my face. I don’t care what you have to say.”

"You're the only one-" Bucky tried desperately. He needed to talk. And Steve was the only one who understood.

"Save it, I don't wanna hear it. You ever show up at my door again," He took a deep breath, his eyes falling on the bruising cut that was on his cheek. "I won't stop this time." Steve slammed the door in Bucky's face.

Bucky was standing in front of Y/N's room. The door had long opened and an empty room was staring back. After you had left, Pepper and Nat had cleaned your room up the best that they could. While cleaning they had found an ultrasound picture hidden away in your nightstand. Nat said she wanted to throw it out but Pepper stole it from her and brought it to Bucky one evening. Bucky didn't know what to do with it so he brought it back to your room, stashing it away where you had kept it. He didn't want to take anything out of your room for when you came back. He wanted it to look like how you had left it. Well- before you destroyed it anyway.

Bucky slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs groaning at the sudden weight on it. No one had sat here in a long time. Bucky heaved a sigh and hung his head, his long hair made a curtain around his face. You were always telling him to cut it.

A frown crept onto his lips, silently cursing himself. You teasing him about his hair is was started this whole thing. It was 4 months ago, you guys had most of the compound to yourself and were passing the time playing a drinking game.

He still remembers the smile on your face when you had brought up his hair, thinking it was hilarious how it was so long. Your laugh was more intoxicating than the alcohol the two of you were consuming. He just couldn't stop staring at you, your beautiful eyes, your hair that smelled like lavender, your gorgeous smile. And every time you leaned over it would expose your cleavage from the top of the thin tank top you had on. By the time you were done giggling Bucky had leaned in and grabbed your face, pressing his lips firmly against yours. You were stunned at first but quickly gave into his advances, as you had been waiting for this moment too.

A noise outside the room made Bucky snap back to reality.

"Thought I would find you here." A soft voice whispered. It was Nat. She gave him a soft smile before sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him. "It okay if I sit?" Bucky shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Sam said you're having a bad day."

"Sam doesn't know shit."

"I know some days are tougher than others. You seemed to be doing okay last week. Actually saw you smile." She laughed quietly. Bucky didn't say anything. "She's not dead, Bucky."

"Why the fuck-"

"Shut up and listen." Any hint of kindness in her voice was gone. "I'm not like Sam, I'm not gonna coddle you. She is alive and is doing better, I just came from the hospital."

"We'll I'm glad you got to see her." He scoffed.

"I know you're not gonna hear what I have to say, but just listen to this- you are not alone, Bucky. Okay? I know none of that matters because you don't have the people you love most around you. But the rest of us are you for you, and Steve. Okay?" Bucky opened his mouth to snap something back but Nat held up her hand. "Just tell me you understand, okay? Because if I have to clean up one more persons blood off the floor I am going to loose my mind."

Bucky sighed and nodded his head. "Okay. I understand." Nat patted him on the shoulder before standing up and left the room. A tear dribbled down his cheek and he quickly whipped it away. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone?

Absolutely exhausted, he kicked his shoes off and laid down, not wanting to pick himself up and walk back to his room. Everything just felt too heavy. His eyes slowly fluttered shut, no matter how hard Bucky fought against it. But it was just too heavy.

"Hey, I need to talk to you." Banner said quietly, standing in Bucky's door way.

"What?" Bucky grumbled from his spot on the bed. "If it's about checking my head, I don't want to hear it. I'm fine, he didn’t hit me that hard.”

"No, it's not that. I need to know-"

"Then what?"

"I need to know what you want to do with the fetus...the baby." He shifted his weight back and forth.

A heavy silence surrounded the two of them. "Why me?" Bucky croaked out finally.

"Well, you're the father and-"

"Don't. Don't call me that." Bucky pointed a stern finger at him Bruce stood there awkwardly, waiting for Bucky to tell him what to do. He blinked back a few tears and cleared his throat. "What do you think I should do?"

"Well, everyone else thinks you should bury him."

Him. It was a boy. Bucky was going to have a son. His son. Y/N's son. Our son.

"Then bury him."

"I think you should go."

"I don't want to."

"Bucky, please. You need to cope."

"Oh yeah, and how should I do that, doctor?" Bucky snapped back. Bruce sighed, defeated. "Go fucking burry the thing and get over it. I don't want to be there, got it?" Why was he saying this? That's not what he wanted to say.

"Okay. Sorry for bothering you." Banner exited his room in a defeated sigh, his shoulder hunched over.

Some more time ticked by before there was another knock on the door. Bucky jumped slightly as he just starting to fall asleep. He hadn't slept in about two days and it was starting to take a toll on him. The evening sun cast shadows that danced around in his dark room.

"Bruce I swear-" He opened the door and stepped back, surprised. It was Pepper. She smiled shyly at him. Bucky thinks she hasn't said more than 10 words with him since he came to live at the compound a year ago. Mostly just awkward good mornings when they came into the kitchen at the same time to get coffee. Pepper always got up early but Bucky was fed up of trying to fall asleep.

"Oh. Did...did you need something?" He asked looking down at her. Pepper wasn't as hard as everyone else at the compound, she hasn’t seen the things everyone else had. He had barely spoken to her and there were already tears forming in her eyes.

"Nat-" She cleared her throat and attempted to wipe the tears away from her eyes. "Nat and I were cleaning up Y/N's room, so it won't be a mess when she comes back. And we'll we found this." She held out some grainy pictures. Bucky wasn't sure what he was looking at.

"What are these?" He muttered, taking them from her.

"They're ultrasound pictures. I guess she knew..." She cleared her throat again, fighting back the urge to cry. "Sorry. I guess she knew about the pregnancy. Nat wanted to throw them out but I thought you should have them."

Bucky didn't know what to say. He didn't want to open his mouth and rip Peppers head off, because he knew that she was just trying to be nice. Trying to make him feel better, but honestly it was just making him feel worse. If you knew you were pregnant why did you try to kill yourself? Or is that why you tried to kill yourself?

Before he could think of what to say, a sob ripped through his chest, his knees giving out under him. Pepper moved quickly to his side and threw her small body against Bucky's, wrapping him up in a hug. She tried to hold him up the best she could, but they crumpled to the ground together.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky." She cried. Her hands grabbed the back of his shirt, like she was trying to keep him from falling apart. It wasn’t working. It felt like someone was chiseling away at his heart. He clutched the ultrasound pictures to his chest, another sob wracking through his body. He wanted Y/N. He wanted you here with him, mourning the loss of your child together. "I'm so sorry." Pepper repeated. Bucky gently pushed her away and tried to calm himself down.

"Thank you for these, Pepper." He babbled. "But I need to be alone. Please leave me alone." She shook her head at what he was saying and tried to protest. He held up his hand to stop her. “Go. Just go.” He pleaded. Finally, she left him there, sitting in the door way, holding the only pictures of his son that he would ever get.

Bucky woke up with a gasp, his clothes were soaked and sticking to his skin from his sweat and it felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest, his stomach churning in knots. He scrambled out your bed and into the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. These fucking dreams would not leave him alone. Ever since you left that's all he was able to dream about.

He spilled his guts out a few more times before slumped down beside the toilet, he shoved his head in hands and took a few deep breathes, trying to ease his spinning head. He gagged at the taste of vomit in his mouth and spit into the toilet again. Standing up shakily, he looked at himself in the mirror that was above the sink. He hated the person looking back. He looked sick, disgusting.

Saying Bucky looked rough was an understatement. His eyes were sunken in, which were accompanied by dark bags. His hair was ratty and dull and he hadn't trimmed his beard in weeks. He had also lost weight and muscle mass from not being able to eat. He couldn't. The only thing he was able to keep down was chicken broth and he hardly even eat that. He had no desire to work out either. His metal arm, which he usually polished at least once a week was dull too. And covered in scratches from him clawing at it in the middle of the night.

Bucky sighed heavily and rinsed his mouth and face with water. Patting his face dry with a towel he realized for the first time, he was starving. He could smell someone cooking bacon down in the kitchen and it made his mouth water.

Maybe Sam was right, Bucky did need to talk about this. Or maybe Steve was the one who was right. This was all his fault. He made the first move on you. The baby was his. Everything was his fault. Maybe if he had just left you alone, none of this would have happened. He couldn’t think straight anymore, nothing made sense without you here.

He pushed his thoughts out of his head as he remade your bed. Picking up his boots from off the ground, he slowly made his way back to his room. It was a hot mess inside, more than normal. Bucky doesn't remember the last time he picked anything up. He discarded his sticky clothes and got into the shower, letting the hot water fall over his skin. He hummed contently as he washed his hair, yanking to get the knots out. While he was in there he trimmed his beard the best he could without looking in a mirror.

Getting out and rubbed the steam off the mirror and looked at himself again. His beard and his hair looked better, but his eyes still looked empty. He still felt empty. Bucky tossed on some clothes that smelled the cleanest, which happened just an old pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

Taking a deep breath he left his room, or his cave, as Sam called it, and went down to the kitchen. It seemed like everyone was there, talking and laughing together. Bucky felt an instant nauseous feeling build in his stomach as eyes fell on him. He felt like an outsider, no, he was an outsider. Always has been as always will be

"Hey, Buck." Sam greeted, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts. "There's coffee in the pot if you want some." Bucky gave him a small smile and poured himself a cup, and grabbed a few pieces of bacon and fruit that was cut up. He sat down beside Sam and cleared this throat. Sam looked down at the small amount of food that Bucky had gathered and frowned slightly, but refrained from saying anything. He should be glad he was eating at all.

"Where's Steve at this morning?" Bucky asked, taking a sip of coffee, which stung going down his throat.

"Oh, he went to visit Y/N." Sam replied nonchalantly.

"Hm." Bucky stared down at his food, which suddenly repulsed him. Maybe this was a mistake, he should have stay in his room. Sam silently cursed himself for bring you up and tried to change the conversation.

"Sleep any better last night?" Sam questioned.

"A little. Fell asleep about an hour after we got done talking." He shrugged. “Woke up a little bit ago.”

"So you slept for 14 hours?" Sam chuckled. "We got done talking at 5, so you were out for 14 hours. I'd call that pretty good sleep."

"Doesn't mean it was restful."

"It's still a good thing that you slept through the night." Sam took a bite out of his bacon. "Oh my god, I swear Vision makes the best food." He goaded. Sam was obviously trying to get Bucky to eat.

"I know." Bucky faked a smile as he couldn't shake the feeling that he was going to get sick again. The feeling suddenly got overwhelming and he suddenly stood to his feet, his chair scrapping loudly against the floor, which caused everyone to stop and look. They watched as Bucky disappeared down the hall to the bathroom.

There was nothing in Bucky's stomach for him to throw up, besides that little bit of coffee. He was now just dry heaving, spit trickling down his chin. He just wanted this to go away, why couldn't it go away? Bucky heaved into the toilet one last time before picking his head up, wiping away the spit that was now traveling down his neck. He noticed there was a slight red tinge to it.

He brought his knees up to his chest and his hands shook as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. The room was spinning, he was so dizzy. His mouth felt he had just chewed on chalk. He was a super solider, god damn it. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Something wasn’t right.

He slowly got to his feet, hanging onto the sink for support. Slowly he made his way back to the kitchen, leaning against the wall so he wouldn’t fall over. He just needed to get to Banner. Banner would know what to do.

Back in the kitchen, Bucky could hardly see. His vision was darkening and his ears were ringing. He could feel eyes on him. Gripping the wall for support, he dry heaved again. “Bucky?” Someone asked, concern in their voice. That voice. He knew that voice.

“Y/N?” He panted, his head snapping up. The quick action made his head spin and his grip on the wall loosened. He caught a glimpse of you right before he fell on his face, vision going black, everything falling silent.

part 3

[lokilickedme]

The Way

I’m writing horror again.  I guess it’s that time, you know, that time that has nothing to do with Halloween or the seasons or whatever, that time when it just hits me for some reason.  And just like I always do, I’ll say I don’t know why.

Even though I know why, and you know I know why.

Because the truth is always so much weirder and worse and more disquieting than any excuse I could make up for it, and sometimes I just feel the need.

Today I felt the need, and I couldn’t make it go away.

And so I sat down, and words I didn’t want to write were written.

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8592 words I would rate this Mature 18+ if it was a fic, strictly because of the subject matter.

Warnings: Death, mostly.  Religious trauma, brief descriptions of abuse, mentions of mental illness, domestic violence, grief, familial dysfunction, religious abuse, emotional abuse, medical conditions, brief mentions of drug use/abuse, mild gore in reference to corpse decomposition, psychological unease and mild terror, child abuse (mental/emotional/psychological), brief allusion to physical child abuse, cult references, loss of faith, attempted murder, possible actual murder.

A Note:  I love you guys, you’re always so quick and willing to be helpful and offer advice and suggestions and such, and I adore that about you.  But on this piece of work I ask that nobody offer any theories about what happened to my brother - medical, criminal, or otherwise - and please no suggestions on things we could do to pursue investigation, that ship has long sailed.  It’s been 23 years and he’s a cold case.  We spent years trying to sort it out but in the end it’s just something that happened, and we moved on because we had to.  There are a lot of open ends, a lot of question marks, a lot of suspicious details that never connected to anything - and we tried, we truly did.  If anyone out there knows the truth, they’ve never shown themselves to us.  We do have our theories, but my brother was a secretive person living a life none of us knew about, and the people he knew weren’t people we knew.  Everyone involved is either dead or moved on or got away with whatever it was they did, and there are only three of us who still care.  It’s over.

Until today, I’ve never put these events into words.

It was something I needed to do, finally.

This is PART ONE.  There may not be a part two, unless doing this ends up making me feel better.

Please feel free to comment if you wish.  As you can see, pretty much nothing triggers me.  I just ask that you please refrain from the type of comments noted above.

And thank you.

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This is, regrettably, a true story.  Nothing has been changed but the names, because the dead don’t like being talked about, and James was just enough of a shit to haunt me for it.

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They made up their minds And they started packing They left before the sun came up that day An exit to eternal summer slacking But where were they going without ever knowing the way

They drank up the wine And they got to talking They now had more important things to say And when the car broke down They started walking Where were they going without ever knowing the way

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

Their children woke up And they couldn't find them They left before the sun came up that day They just drove off and left it all behind them But where were they going without ever knowing the way?

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

- The Way, Fastball, 1998

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That was the year James died in his sleep.

Or that’s what they say, anyway.  Asthma, the likely cause based on his medical history, our first and least disturbing assumption.  Undetermined, the official determination based on the hastily scraped-together autopsy, the best that could be done under the circumstances.  We tell people he had breathing problems, and they nod their heads and agree because they knew he did, and now he’s been gone so long that nobody asks.  Most of the people who ever met him have long moved on or disappeared or died themselves, or just remember him as the enigmatic middle son from the Keithley family that nobody really knew very well.  You know, the odd one, the one that showed up at meetings maybe once a year and smiled nervously but didn’t really talk to anyone and always seemed anxious to leave?  The one who died under mysterious circumstances?  That one.

He left the way he always came in.  Quietly, unexpected, without anyone being aware of either his entrance or his exit.

But me and mom know some things, and she’s not talking.  She probably never will.

So maybe it’s time I did.

December 1998.  I’d gotten married two years previous and moved back to the family land with my new husband.  He hated it there, but we had an affordable place to live.  It wasn’t bad.  He’d tell you otherwise.  The land never sat right with him, but I’d lived there too many years to see it.  I’d been fifteen when my father uprooted his large family from the city and hauled us out to the great back door to nowhere, and even though I’d left several times to wander elsewhere, I always came back.

I didn’t realize why at the time, at any of the multiple times.  But now I know.  That place gets you, and it holds you, and unless you’re goddamned devoted to staying gone you will always be pulled back.  It took me till I was 49 to funnel the necessary amount of devotion away from the religious dedication I’d had jackbooted into me and turn it toward getting out, but against a great number of overwhelming odds I finally did it.

But this isn’t about that, not yet anyway.  This is about my brother James, and how he went to sleep one night and found his own way out.

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It was snowing, had been for days, a bit unusual but not unheard of.  The part of the state we lived in was notorious for extended ice storms and we knew a bad one was coming, but until it hit we played in the snow like it was a gift and we were deprived children who knew it was all going to be taken away soon.  My brothers and I were adults but you wouldn’t know it, watching us sneak around in the woods staging elaborate commando attacks on each other.  James was the best of us, a stealth king who could stand in the middle of a room for an hour without a single soul seeing him.  Perception bias, he said.  Your brain ignores me because I obviously don’t belong, like those puzzles where you circle what’s wrong but it takes you forever to find them.

He crept around in the forest scaring the shit out of people, dropping his long tall self out of trees, appearing from nowhere to administer a well aimed snowball to the face of whoever happened to cross his path and then disappearing just as quickly.  We called him a wraith and it wasn’t a good natured jibe.  We meant it.  He made people nervous.  He was the stealthy kind of quiet you associate with danger, and he knew how to do things an average person doesn’t ever have any need to know.  It was a quiet cool that we admired him for, because none of the rest of us had it.

The religion we were raised in kept a tight lid on us, but me and James, we never really let it get into our bones.  We were the smart ones, in retrospect.  I went through the motions by force of habit and a sense of self preservation, doing what was expected and demanded of me, following the rules and making myself a perfect example of a young member of the church so I wouldn’t bring shame on the congregation and my family.  But mostly the congregation.  It was always more important than anything else.  And I had behaving down to an art form, but mostly when people were looking.  Usually also when they weren’t.

But sometimes, not quite.

And then I prayed for forgiveness about it later because God was supposed to forgive you if you asked him to, right?  The tenet of willful sin being unforgivable never took root with me even though that was what the church conditioned into us through fear and constant repetition.  They said it from the stage two nights a week and again on Sunday to hammer it home.  Two nights a week and again on Sunday my head silently disagreed.  God’s not like that.  And then I did the praying for forgiveness thing even though I knew I was right, because I was disagreeing with the church, and the church was God’s channel here on Earth, wasn’t it?  I committed a mortal sin at least three times a week on that subject alone, and though the dread of divine punishment was hardwired into me, I never could reconcile the concept of a loving and forgiving God destroying me simply for knowing better.

I’m not sure the comprehension of an overwatching deity ever actually established itself in James’ brain.  A moral code, yes.  But isn’t that what God is, really?  Maybe he understood more about God and forgiveness than the rest of us.  But he was considered an unapproved fringe member of the church because he couldn’t suffer people and noise and being looked at and he refused to preach, and he was soft-shunned as a result.  Because if you weren’t all in to the point of being willing to die at any moment for your faith, you were as good as faithless.

And faithless meant condemned.  And the congregation couldn’t be bothered with condemned people, regardless of their reasons for not having both feet in the water.  The first and only option on their list was to put the person out and let them find their own way back once they realized they had nobody left in the world who cared about them.

James escaped that somehow.  He was supposed to be shunned whole scale, but he wasn’t trying to convince anyone to leave the faith and he presented no threat to anyone’s strength of belief, and so far as anyone knew he’d committed no grave sins other than disinterest.  So the rule that dictated we cast him out was bent enough to allow him to remain living on the family land, though at one point during a fit of overzealous righteousness my mother had tried to have a family meeting to vote on whether or not we were going to let him stay.  I refused to vote and when I walked out of the house the meeting fell apart.

I’ve never forgiven her for that.  Her son’s life being put to a vote with her presiding over the proceedings, vengeful and unfeeling and devoid of compassion on behalf of God himself.  It takes my breath away, the anger, still to this day.  The only thing I ever truly learned from my mother about parenting was a long and intensely detailed list of what not to do to my own children, and I suppose I should be grateful for that.  It’s a bitter thank-you to have to give, but it’s something.

We knew James as much as he would allow us to, and not an inch further.  Which meant the extent of our knowledge of him pretty much stretched to include the singular fact that he was different.  What that meant, I still don’t really know - but it was there from the day he was born, that slight off-ness, the oddly off center calibration that you can’t really see so much as sense in a person.  I know now he was likely on the autism spectrum and he walked through life seeing and reacting to everything differently than most of us, but that wasn’t a thing back then.  You were just weird, or you weren’t.  And I’m not convinced that was a bad thing for him, strictly speaking.  But in the confines of our religion and our family’s devout and sometimes violent dedication to it, it took its toll almost daily.

He stood out, and he was very much a person who didn’t want to.  He wanted to fade into the background, to not be seen, to not be known.  And our religion didn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense, because we were commanded to be bold bearers of The Word Of God, and no exceptions were made.

None.

I’m going to stop calling it a religion now.  I beg your indulgence as I shift to calling it what it is, because calling it a religion is an insult to actual religions that don’t destroy peoples’ lives with callous indifference and murderous glee.

We were raised in a doomsday death cult.  There’s no other name that fits.

And we were trapped in it and its ugly cycle of neverending mental and emotional manipulation and abuse until we were adults, and some of us are still bound to it.  My oldest brother worked his way up to the upper levels of oversight in the local congregation and was solidly entrenched in it until his death, which is a story for later.  My youngest brother, the last remaining living blood sibling I have, is still deeply in it to this day and will likely never leave it.

I took the hard way out, three years ago, by walking away.

James, though.  He took the easy way.  He simply closed his eyes, and he was free.

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December 22, 1998.  Three days before Christmas, though that meant nothing to us.  The cult told us Christmas was a filthy demonic pagan ritual that was condemned by God, so to us the season was just a nice chilly time of year with lots of time off from work.  We’d had an unusual amount of snow, the most we’d had in years.  The roads were impassable and everyone was home except my husband, who worked close enough that his boss at the glass shop came and picked him up that morning with chains on his tires.  Lots of windshields had shattered from the sudden violent cold that had struck the previous night and Scott had the only glass shop for sixty miles.

I think it must have been around noon, and likely my mother had sent my dad up the hill to see if James wanted to come down for the lunch she was making.  He and his wife had split up against the strict rules of the church after a few years of suffering through an ill advised marriage, an important detail to this story that will come into the tale later, and he was alone up there at the top of the hill a lot.  Sometimes he forgot to eat, or he got so busy that he just didn’t bother, so our mother always made something for him because even though he was in his 20′s he was still a kid who needed looking after and her zealous fervor against him had died down with time.  I think he let her believe he was helpless because it worked in his favor and there was always lunch waiting for him in her kitchen as a result.

He was different, he wasn’t dumb.

We all lived on the hill back then with the exception of our youngest brother.  He’d moved to the city with his new wife not long prior.  The locals jokingly called the place a commune, and I guess they weren’t completely wrong.  Thirty-eight acres of wooded land far beyond the city limits that we’d painstakingly spent years carving a livable space into, with five houses, all built from the ground up and inhabited by an extended family of well known culties from a well known cult.  It’s almost comical, looking back on it, knowing now how they kept an eye on us for years to make sure we weren’t doing anything weird up there.

They should have run us off with pitchforks and burning stakes at the very beginning.

Things might have ended differently for us if they had.

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My grandparents lived at one end of the property, an old couple as simple and solid as salted soup, devoutly religious and devoted to the cult and very much cut from the can survive anything and probably will cloth like so many old country folks of their generation.  They were waiting out the end of days up there in their little wooden house, expecting the final hour of this old system to come long before their own demise.  I liked my grandmother, she had a sweet smile and fell asleep every time granddad started talking about the Bible and she paid me five dollars every Wednesday to drive her into town to get groceries, and years later, when she was dying, she told me she’d had a dream where she met my unborn son.  I was four months pregnant and didn’t know yet that I was having a boy.  She died before he was born, but to this day, fifteen years later, he tells me he’s sure he met her, he just can’t remember when.

I was scared of my grandfather.  Not terrified, but there was nothing grandfatherly to him and I always suspected he never actually liked kids much.  He’d once told us a story about the great Fort Worth flood that wiped out most of the city when my mom was a baby, and how he had told my grandmother to let go of my 2-year-old mother while he was struggling to get them across a rushing flooded creek in water up to their shoulders.  My grandmother couldn’t swim.  We could make another Ruthie, he said.  But I couldn’t get another ‘Nita.

He said it proudly, like he was to be admired for his choice.  I was young when he told that story, but it settled into me that this was evil.

Even when he was old as dirt and dying of a brain tumor in hospice care, he made me uneasy.  I was never close to him.  But for some reason, in his final days, he forgot who everyone was except me.  I had been living in another state for years and he hadn’t seen me since before the tumor started taking his life.  But when I walked into the room he turned his head and looked at me, and he mouthed my name.

He couldn’t speak.  I don’t know what he was trying to say, struggling with words that nobody could hear.  And I felt bad.  I didn’t want to be the last person he recognized.  My cousins adored him and had spent the last few years constantly at his side, and they were angry, maybe justifiably, that I was the one he reached for.

I didn’t want that at all.

I don’t believe he was a bad man, but he never spoke of anything except the cult’s interpretation of the Bible, and it was as tiresome as it was terrifying.  Granddads are supposed to be fun.  Ours quoted doctrine at us in a deep loud commanding voice that you couldn’t interrupt and you couldn’t tune out, and once he got going you had to just settle in and wait for him to run out of zealous steam.  And then he would suddenly stop and command grandmother to turn on a John Wayne movie and bring him some ice cream, and it was over until the next time.

I know my mother resented him.  She knew grandmother was the one that had refused to let her go, the one that had held onto her even though she almost drowned by the simple act of holding on.  She knew her father had been willing to let her wash away and drown.  That he thought she was interchangeable with whatever baby they would have next.  How she could spend her entire life with that knowledge and not be deeply affected by it was something that never made sense to me, but now, when she’s in her 70′s and I’m in my 50′s, I finally understand.  It affected her.  She’ll just be damned if she’ll let anyone see it.  And she had stood there in that hospice room watching him mouth my name with resentment burning in her eyes, though she would have rather died than let anyone know what it was for.  He’d forgotten her weeks ago.

The house in the center of the hill was mom and dad.  The homestead.  The house we’d all lived in together, that we’d built with our own hands, the first thing that marked that wild overgrown hill as a place where people actually lived.  A long path through the woods connected it to the grandparents’ house, and it was the epicenter of everything in our lives.  James and I had lived in the upstairs rooms of that house until we both moved out and married our respective mates years later, a reprehensible act on our part that was never okay with my mother and that she never forgave either of us for.  She’d wanted us all to stay.  We can all live here together until the New System comes, she always said.  That’s how the Bible says it’s supposed to be.  We can all keep each other safe and on the right path until the end comes, and then we’ll all be here together forever.

A decade later when I sat up on the hill watching that house burn to the ground, there was as much relief as grief billowing into the sky with the black smoke.  It was the end of an era, and it was far beyond time for it.

Nobody saw it but me.  James was dead, had been for years.  Robbie was dead now too.  Dad was gone, so was granddad.  Me and my youngest brother David were the last two left of the kids, but he had moved to a neighboring city when he got married and he has never seen things the way I see them.  We were of different generations, we weren’t raised the same way, and he’d never experienced the abuse I lived with for the first half of my life.  And he had dedicated his own life to the cult with all the honesty and lack of guile that I didn’t have when I’d made my own dedication vows at the too-young age of sixteen.

It was the end of an era, but apparently only for me.

James’ house was up the hill, past a clearing where my dad used to keep old cars that he cannibalized for parts.  Our oldest brother Robbie, long married with kids of his own, lived at the bottom on the farthest corner of the land.  And my house was on the slope to the west, built on the spot where we’d cleared off an old half-fallen homestead from the late 1800′s, dutifully paying no mind to the fact that a grave was nestled into the slope, right where the yellow daffodils grew.  The cult told us superstition was tied up with the demons and false religion, so we didn’t have the built-in human instinct that tells most people to stay the hell away from certain things.

We just pretended it wasn’t there, and put no importance on it.  It was just an old grave.  The soil was good and the garden I planted next to it did well, though those strange daffodils always wound themselves through everything I put in the ground.  My husband said something wasn’t right about it, but I didn’t pay any attention to him.  He hadn’t been raised as devout as me.

My dad knocked on my door around lunchtime and I opened it.  He backed up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, the fancy leather coat the dealership had awarded him when he was designated a five-star Chrysler technician and given the state’s first and only license to work on the new Vipers that had recently rolled off the prototype line.  It was a cool jacket.  Made him look like the old pictures my other grandmother had shown me of him from the early 1960′s, when he was young and very much a product of a fancier era.  He’d never stopped greasing his hair back and was still so thin that he and I wore the same size jeans.

I’ve never understood the look on his face when I opened the door.  To this day I can’t sort it.  It wasn’t a blankness like so many people who’ve seen death wear without awareness.  It wasn’t grief.  It wasn’t even shock.

He was sorry.

Those were the first words out of his mouth.

I’m sorry.

I stood there, not knowing what he was sorry for.  It was cold.  I couldn’t push the screen door open very far because of the snow blocking it.  And my father was standing at the bottom of the steps James had helped my husband build, his hands shoved down far into his pockets like a penitent child about to get in trouble, telling me he was sorry.

James is dead, he finally said.  He’s in his house.  I went up there and he’s dead.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I do now - just now, this very moment in fact, I know that I was the first person he told.  He came straight from James’ house to mine and told me my brother was dead.

I don’t know what I said back to him, I just remember sitting down on the top step and feeling the cold bite of the snow through my pajama pants.  There’s a vague recollection of putting my face in my hands, and the embarrassing knowledge that I did that simply because I didn’t know what else to do.  And dad just stood there, nervously stepping from foot to foot in the snow, because he didn’t know what else to do either.

I think I asked How at some point.  He said he didn’t know.  He had something in his pocket but to this day I don’t know what it was.

I don’t know if it was important.  Something tells me it was.  Or maybe it was just the eternally present handkerchief he always kept on him.

I’m sorry, he said again.  He seemed to feel like it was his fault somehow.  I’m sorry.

What do we do?  I asked him.  I’ve never felt more blank.  What are we supposed to do?

I don’t remember what he said, other than he was going to get my older brother.  I remember thinking that was a good idea.  Robbie would know what to do.  He always did.  Brash and blustery and bigmouthed, he got things done while other people stood around debating how to do them.  He would get on it, whatever needed doing.  He would figure it out.

I went back in the house and dad walked away, headed down the path through the woods that connected my house to Robbie’s, hands still shoved deep in his pockets, the big retro vintage Chrysler emblem on the back of his jacket the last thing I saw before I pulled the screen door shut.  I stared down for a minute at the mound of snow it had scooped into my livingroom, still with no clue what I was supposed to do.

No clue at all.

I kicked the snow back outside and shut the door.

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It’s an odd thing, watching the coroner’s van drive away with someone you know inside it.  Someone you saw just yesterday.  Someone who was alive.  Someone who should still be alive but isn’t, somehow.  And since there’s really no way to earn a ride in a coroner’s van without dying, there’s an awful unsettling sensation to it that you can’t get away from.  The last time I saw James he was laughing that devious little laugh of his, his eyes red and bloodshot from the ever present asthma he’d suffered with his entire life.  I don’t count the sight of the coroner’s van leaving the hill via our long steep driveway with his cold corpse tucked into a black zippered bag, because I didn’t see him.  I never saw him.  I didn’t see him dead in his house and I didn’t see them carry him out, I didn’t see them put him in the van.  I didn’t see him later, when it was all over with.  And if I try hard enough I can imagine that van empty, with that long black bag tossed crumpled in the back without a body in it, and James somewhere else living his life however the hell he pleases.

I hold onto that.  Some days it helps.  And some days I think I see him, walking by the side of the road or getting out of a car in the post office parking lot, and it makes me happy thinking he escaped.  I see him in every hitchhiker, in every wandering traveler making his way down the interstate, in every tall thin man I glimpse from the corner of my eye as I go about my business in town.

He’s out there.

I hope he’s happy.

The ice storm hit the next day.

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For the next two weeks we were stuck on our hill.  Power out, no electricity, no heat, no lights, roads iced over and impassable.  We all piled up in mom and dad’s house, quietly grieving James, trying to stay warm.  Most of the state lost power for days, including the city 150 miles away where his body had been taken to the state coroner’s office.  There was no apparent cause of death, so the state ordered an autopsy.

His body had just been placed into cold storage to wait its turn when the power grid went down.  And then, by some unholy stroke of nightmarish luck, the facility’s generators failed.

Nobody could make it in to work because of the ice.  By the time someone finally got into the morgue the cold storage had been down for four days.

Six bodies melted, including James.

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No viable autopsy could be done, though they tried their best I suppose.  The end report was obtained two months later.  It was mostly inconclusive due to the long delay and resultant decomposition of tissue.  There was apparent scarring on James’ heart, but it was old scarring and had nothing to do with his death.  His lungs were scarred as well, but that was no surprise, he’d had severe asthma his entire life.  There was no determinable cause of death, no inflicted trauma, no presence of illicit drugs as far as they could tell from the limited toxicology report they managed with what they had to work with.

No reason.

He’d simply died.

It seemed fitting, to me at least, that the end of him be enshrouded in an unsolvable mystery.  He was a secretive person, intensely private.  He would have loved knowing nobody had a clue what happened to him.

And so we drew our own conclusion as a family.  He’d had an asthma attack in his sleep.  There had been an inhaler next to his bed, but it was new and still in the box.  He simply hadn’t woken up to use it.  Dad didn’t participate in the drawing of this conclusion, his input kept stoically to himself, like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.

We pretended not to see it.

He and mom braved the last of the ice a few days later to make the 150 mile drive to see James one last time.

They came back different.

You couldn’t tell it was him, my mother said.  He was melted, literally.  It was like one of those science fiction movies where they melt you with a laser beam and you turn to goo.

Dad had nothing to say.  He went to bed and stayed there until the next day.

You can go see him, mom told me.  I’ll go with you if you want to go.  But I don’t recommend it.

I decided not to go.

And so I never saw my brother dead.  I never saw any proof that he was gone.  He just wasn’t there anymore.  There was no funeral, he was cremated and his ashes were sent home weeks later, and I went on with my life with the image in my head of James, alive, somewhere else.

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Dad was different from that day on.  He’d always been stoic, terse, strict.  My childhood had been spent in fear of him, an eternal dread of making him mad and feeling his temper erupt keeping me from showing any hint of a personality during my formative years.  The cult had forced him to abide by the violent tenet of Spare the rod, spoil the child and there was never any risk of me being spoiled.

James being gone flipped a switch in him.  He was nicer suddenly.  Mellow.  Kind.  After the trauma wore off his humor discovered itself and he was funny.  The dour angry demeanor fell off and revealed a man that I was sad never to have known before.  He and I became friends.  I could sense in his new attitude toward me that he regretted how he’d raised me and respected the way I’d always stood up and been my own person despite it.  But my mother was falling off the deep end and for all the newfound easygoingness of my father, she counterbalanced it with an extremism born of the religious fervor of a mother determined to gain enough favor with God to see her dead child again.  And she was going to make sure the rest of us did too.

We all had to get good and straight on the path, get completely right and stay that way, or we’d never see James again.  He’d be in the New World and we wouldn’t, and how would she explain that to him?  She and I worked together in a law office at the time and as she became more unhinged and unpleasant, I reacted by becoming more outgoing and accomplished.  Our boss changed my work designation from receptionist to Executive Assistant and started teaching me how to do everything from filing papers at the courthouse to photographing accident scenes.  I no longer answered to my mother, the office manager.  I answered directly to the boss.

That didn’t go over well.  She was a control freak with heavy untreated trauma, and the one person in the world she felt the most obsessive need to control was suddenly no longer under her thumb in a workspace where she considered herself the supreme authority.  She countermanded every order the boss gave me and tried to load me up with general office chores that left me no time to do the important assignments he’d given me.  I had no choice but to tell her she wasn’t my superior anymore.

She chose that day to have her nervous breakdown over James, jumping out of my car at a red light on the way home and storming angrily through a shopping mall with me trailing frantically along behind her, yelling for security to arrest me while I tried to get her to calm down.  I ended up telling her she wasn’t the only person who lost James but that none of the rest of us were allowed to experience our own grief because we were too busy catering to hers.

She sat down on a bench outside the sporting goods store and glared at me with a cold hatred I’ve seen on very few other faces, ever.

I knew it would be you, she hissed at me.

That moment changed our relationship forever.  It changed me forever.  That was the day I decided my life was my own, that she not only didn’t have authority over me at work, she didn’t have authority over me anywhere else either.  She could no longer dictate my actions, my behavior, my thoughts and feelings.

For this she disowned me.  It was the first of several disownings over the next few years.  I got used to it.  We went to work the next day like nothing had happened, and I didn’t do a single thing on the task list she slapped down on my desk.  It was a metaphor for the rest of my life, but I didn’t know it yet.

My husband and I moved out of state a couple of months later, away from that hill, away from her increasingly controlling paranoia and bitterness, the first of many small steps toward freedom.

As we were driving away with our trailer full of personal belongings behind us, he said one thing that I tried to argue against, but that somewhere deep inside I knew was probably right.

That land is cursed, he said.

----------

A few weeks before we moved my youngest brother came to town and we went into James’ house together.  It was exactly like it had been the day my dad found him.  The only thing that stood out as different was the bare mattress on the bed - the men from the coroner had wrapped him up in the sheet he’d been laying on and took it with them, leaving just the naked springform mattress James had bought for Jessica right before her final breakdown and their subsequent separation.

It took me a while to go in the bedroom, but I knew from the moment I walked into the house that I was going to end up there.  I needed to see it, the place where James had closed his eyes and left us.

There was a small puddle of dried blood near the foot of the bed, brown and stained into the fabric.  James always slept backwards, with his head at the wrong end.  The blood had come from his nose.

I touched it.  I don’t know why.  It was dry.

He was gone.

----------

David and I laughed a lot that day.  James had been funny in a way that was distinctly him, quiet and of few words, but those words had always counted.  And as we sorted through his things and talked about him and moved some of his stuff into boxes to be stored away, I felt as much awed respect as befuddlement at what was around me.  He’d never been a conformist, which I knew was why the cult had never gotten a firm grasp on him.  He was unknowable and therefore unbindable.  But his house was proof that he didn’t conform to any human expectations either, and nothing in it made sense unless you’d spent time around him.

There was an engine in the bathtub.  I’m not sure what it went to.  Another engine, in the beginning stages of disassemblage, rested on a blue tarp in the center of the livingroom floor, obviously the last project he’d been working on.  There wasn’t much furniture - his wife had taken most of it when she left and it would have never entered his mind to replace any of it.  Jessica’s cookware was in the kitchen cabinets, unused, some of it still in the original boxes, some not even fully unwrapped from their wedding shower years before.  Jessica didn’t cook, she microwaved.  David asked me if I thought it would be okay for him to take a glass Pyrex measuring cup because he’d broken his.  I told him to take it.  It had never been used.

I didn’t want anything, but knew I needed to take something.  One of my husband’s solo CDs was sitting on the entertainment center and the cover, the cover I’d designed, caught my eye and brought me to the CD player to pop the tray open.

Inside was a CD single of The Way.

It was the only thing I took.

----------

My husband told me some time later that my dad and older brother had altered the scene before the police arrived.  After the phonecall from me his boss had rushed him home and he’d gone up to James’ house without my knowledge.  He’d thought it strange that he’d had to step around at least a dozen empty compressed air cans scattered haphazardly around the place as he entered, like they’d been used and tossed aside one after another.  There had been several more on the floor around the bed.  My father had told him to go back down and see how mom and I were doing, and when he returned to James’ house after the coroner’s departure, the cans were gone.  Other than that he said things seemed different, but he couldn’t say quite how.  Just not the same.

He told me my dad didn’t call the police until after he and Robbie had been in there at least an hour, alone with the body.

It’s not something we’ve talked about often, because there’s no satisfactory explanation for it that either of us can come up with.  My mother says they probably didn’t want the police to assume the cans meant he was huffing compression fluid and accidentally killed himself, because Look at the shame and reproach that would bring on the congregation if anyone thought such a thing!  We all knew he used the compressed air to clear the valves on the engines he was working on, all mechanics do, it’s common.  Wouldn’t the police have accepted that explanation?  Dad was the only one that spoke to them.  They wrote down whatever he said, and then they left, and then the coroner came and took James away and that was that.  My father, the most upright straight-and-narrow devoutly dedicated man I’ve ever known in my life, misled the police for a reason that he took with him to his own grave.

The only other person in the world who knew the truth about it took it to his grave too.

At the same time.

In the same car.

Four years later, on October 18, 2002.

----------

The big garbage bag of empty air cans and whatever else that was removed from James’ house that morning had been stashed in my dad’s garage and stayed there until a few weeks after he and Robbie’s joint funeral, when my mother asked my husband’s old boss to come and dispose of it.  Scott was a man who knew people who could do things.

The evidence, whatever it was evidence of, vanished.

----------

The mystery around James never dissolved and eventually no one talked about it anymore, I guess because there was no way we could ever truly find out what happened without him here to tell us.  There were a lot of details that we could never find a way to weave together into anything that made sense and a lot of it was probably inconsequential anyway.  There was a girlfriend that he’d tried to keep hidden from us, a woman that was quite a bit older than him who wasn’t a member of the cult and therefore needed to be kept a secret.  In the end she had convinced him to stop hiding their relationship and he’d bought her a ring.  We met her all of twice before he died, and within days of his passing she left town with her brother and never came back, taking whatever she might have known with her.

James’ ex Jessica had sneaked onto the hill and broken into his house to put a dead raccoon in his kitchen sink a few days prior to his death.  We were shocked when he told us she trespassed on the land often without anyone knowing, and my mother made my father fix the electric gate down at the road so that it wouldn’t open without one of three clickers in the possession of herself, my father, and me.  James would have to come to her house and get hers any time he needed to leave the hill, an arrangement he agreed to because Jessica stole things from his house all the time, she would absolutely take a gate opener if she saw it.

He told us the gate wouldn’t keep her out though, and that she didn’t come in that way anyway.  The only way to protect ourselves from her was to lock her up and he doubted even that would do it.

He died less than a week later, and twenty three years later we still don’t know how or why.

----------

We never felt safe on the hill again.  Jessica was deranged in the worst possible way, we’d known it for a while, and James was her obsession.  She’d threatened to kill him multiple times and had tried twice.  We hadn’t known this, because James, big strong stoic Clint Eastwood type that he was, wasn’t about to tell anyone he was violently abused for years by a skinny little woman that everyone believed was not much more than a meek dormouse with shyness issues and a case of painful awkwardness.  But we knew she was evil.  We just didn’t have any proof.

The first thing my mother said after the initial emotional breakdown of finding her son dead was Jessica did this, I don’t know how but I know she did it.

I believe she was probably right.  But if Jessica was anything she was wily and devious with a strong survival instinct and an uncanny ability to lie convincingly and draw sympathy onto herself.  She’d convinced us for years that she was the perfect combination of sweetly harmless and endearingly clueless, but that only lasted until the day she called 911 screaming that James was beating her and then threw herself face first into a tree in their front yard and sat, calmly singing and coloring in a coloring book on the porch with blood running down her forehead, waiting for the police to arrive.  The act she put on when they got there was one for the Academy, but the officers didn’t buy it.

James calmly rolled up his sleeves and showed them his scars where she’d burned him and slashed him with a kitchen knife.  He pulled up his shirt and pointed out the marks she’d left on him with her teeth and nails.  He hooked a finger into his mouth and showed them the empty hole where she’d knocked one of his teeth out with a baseball bat.  One of the officers asked him why he hadn’t killed her and buried her somewhere on the land already.

She left in the back of the squad car, and my mother took James to the courthouse to get divorce papers started two days later.

Jessica came to his memorial service when we finally had it, several weeks after his death.  She wasn’t invited but we couldn’t keep her from coming.  She wore black like a widow and created a dramatic disruption complete with loud wailing and declarations of undying love, and afterward she stood to one side of the room, smirking at us with the kind of icy malice that you only see on the dangerously deranged, and then usually only in the movies.  Several people commented in hushed voices, asking why she’d been allowed to come.  At one point she started wailing They killed him!!, but everyone with the exception of her mother ignored her.

Her mother, who was still in our congregation, flitted around the room chatting with everyone, sobbing her heart out like it was her own son we’d just memorialized.  She was an ER nurse and had been famously fired from her job at the hospital for taking locked-cabinet medications home by the purse load.  She claimed she put them in her pocket to use on her shift and forgot to return them to the cabinet before leaving.

Jessica had been staying with her for a while.

----------

We fed the crowd at mom’s later that afternoon with my husband and his boss guarding the gate, making sure she didn’t try to come into my mother’s house.  The police were called preemptively, and because this was a town of 300 with not much of anything else to do, a squad car was dispatched and stationed near the inlet to the main drive.

Jessica showed up not much later, like we knew she would.  She drove past the police and parked a few yards down from them in plain sight, just sitting there by the side of the road, far enough away from our property that we couldn’t legally do anything about it.  The officers got out and talked to her, warned her not to cause us any problems, and she fed them a woeful tale about being banned from her beloved husband’s memorial service and denied the right to say goodbye to him.

The officers knew there was no body at that service to say goodbye to.  They also knew her.

My husband came up the hill and told us she was down at the road and that Scott was blocking the driveway with his truck to keep her out.  I told my mother it was time to file a restraining order against her.  She was living in fear and Jessica was known to be trespassing on our property frequently.  No, she told me with tears in her eyes but not a sign of distress on her face.  It was a look I knew, because my mother rarely showed emotion unless she was angry and the rest of the time it was this cold detachment.  That would bring reproach on the congregation because everyone knows what we are.  I can’t do that.  I won’t let her win that way.  I won’t let her cause us to bring shame on God’s name.

God’s name.  I took it in vain that day.

More than once.

I was leaving in a few weeks, moving a thousand miles away.  My husband and I weren’t going to be there to help her keep an eye out, and thirty eight acres of heavily wooded land is impossible to protect and easy to sneak onto from a hundred different directions, James had shown us proof of that.

God will protect us as long as we do the right thing and leave it to him, she said.  He knows what she is.

I think it was just a coincidence that nothing terrible happened in the following weeks, because my faith was getting tenuous and a lot of prayers were going unanswered.  But Jessica quietly disappeared back to her own world after a couple of infuriating weeks of putting herself in our paths every chance she got, and not long after that my husband and I moved away, and as we left the driveway for what we thought would be the last time he sighed and shook his head with the exasperation of a man about to say I told you so.

“That land is cursed,” he said.

I tried to disagree, though I don’t know why.

----------

Less than a mile up the road we passed a man walking.  He was tall and thin and covered in the dust of a long journey with a ratty backpack strapped to his back, and as we passed him I caught his reflection in the side mirror.

It was James, I knew it in my heart every bit as strongly as I knew it couldn’t be.

He was walking away from the hill, toward the west.  The way we were going.  And I swear on whatever holy relic you wish to place under my hand that he raised his head and met eyes with me in the mirror, and he smiled.

.

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today

.

[thunderheadfred]

🤚The Second Worst (Pt. 1/?)🤚

Part 2 of my Shigaraki Thesis Headcanons. HC's // The Second Worst: 1 - 2

The half-mad ghost of Shimura Tenko is in love with you, and your life is about to become a tragic wreck. -- AKA here's when I gave up on bullet points and went off the fuckin rails

I'm self-conscious about writing so much, so uhhhh, please be kind, hahaaa. This is rather long and involved. Are these still even HCs or just a self-indulgent AU outline? There are some mysteries we may never solve.

This is on AO3 now, if you prefer reading there. Anyway. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

You met Tenko before the League existed.

Believe it or not, there are a million ways it might have happened, but in the end: you were both bargain-binning in Akihabara.

You reached for a copy of a collectible bullet-hell cute-'em-up (near-mint! CIB!!!) and accidentally bonked hands with a complete stranger. He flinched about five million feet away from you. Ouch. You're just a nobody, quirkless and average, but you didn't think you were THAT repulsive.

(You're not. Hell, even if you were, this guy couldn't care less. He barely registers that you have a face.)

(Shigaraki is accustomed to getting in and out of this shop in seconds. He always comes in before anyone else and goes straight home. -- Is that really home? Is 'home' a real place? -- ANYWAY he's already pirated this shit, god, why does he even care? He doesn't need to be here. Father doesn't like it. Is that why he's here? Just to do something Father doesn't like? That's pathetic.)

He's had at least ten complete internal arguments with himself before he so much as looks at you.

You know in the tenth of a second he actually meets your eyes... this fucker is going to fight you to the death over this game.

- - - The death match ends in a draw. He was not expecting you to know the first fucking thing about this game. Nobody knows about it, even in Japan. Who the fuck do you even think you are? Oh, no, he's still taking it. But... maybe he can show you how to play it it. He'll give you a little taste, just to make you jealous. He's got his hoodie pulled down like he's going to commit an act of terrorism. What little you can see of his face looks twitchy and messed up. If you have any survival instincts at all, they're kicking in right about now. But... why not. You're not going anywhere with this dude unsupervised, so you suggest a crowded web cafe down the street. The cafe has the necessary console... but the retro gaming booth is laughably small. The TV is about four inches across and you end up having to practically sit in his lap. You were sure this guy was a nasty fucking creep, but he's................ only mostly terrible. Way too angry, for sure. Has no idea how to have a normal, friendly conversation. Inadvertently insults you every other sentence and seems to have a deep-seated persecution complex.

You'd prefer to be mad about the awful company, but... he's obviously deprived of human contact. When it's established that you two share a lot of media fixations, he calms down and starts treating you a little more like a human being. Or at least like a fellow elite.

Wherever he came from, he doesn't seem to want to go back. He keeps pushing you to play one more level, pretending he wants to beat your score. You feel kinda bad for him. You get the distinct feeling that his life is a disaster. He looks like he's never had a full night of sleep in his life. He trips your trigger hairs in that 'is he gonna follow me home?' kind of way, but... up close, he's a lot more depressing than scary. At the very least, you want to buy him a stupidly cute dessert. Just... as thanks. For letting you try out the game and stuff. It's not a big deal, so just pick a flavor, okay? The world isn't actually that awful, y'know.

It's not even that impressive... Definitely not a great cafe. But he takes practically a full hour to eat a single slice of strawberry cake.

When the hoodie comes down. He's all shriveled and dried out, like someone left him him in the desert to die. He chews on his peeling bottom lip and nervously scratches his neck. He doesn't thank you for the cake. Which is fine. It's not a big deal. Actually, you wish he would eat faster; you feel weirdly responsible for him now.

Under all that mess he's... gorgeous? His hair is stunning: a bright, gleaming silver that catches the light. His bone structure is flawless. If it weren't for all the scars and the misanthropic slouch, he'd look like a fairy fucking prince.

You were not prepared for that. In another life he could have been a model, the type of guy who would never even look at you. But something bad happened to him. Something... very bad. Do you even want to know? You have no idea how to ask. Has anyone ever been nice to him? It doesn't seem like it. Should YOU be nice to him? You sort of want to try. - - - This becomes a regular thing. This weird little secret. You should probably tell someone when you see him, just in case you don't come back one day, but you say nothing; how the hell would you explain why you want to see him so bad? You don't know his full name. Maybe he's on a watch list. When he gives you a long string of random numbers so you can schedule meet-ups (is THAT his e-mail, really?) he tells you to just... call him Tenko. Or whatever. It doesn't matter. (He sneaks out when Father is deep in his plots. As long as he comes home on time, it doesn't really matter where he goes, right?) He brings a different game every time. He has an insane collection. Where does he get the money for all this? You know he doesn't work. God, is it drugs? It's probably drugs. Wherever these hidden gems came from, he proudly shows them off to you, like he's never had an audience before. It's sort of cringe-inducing, the way he one-ups and rubs every little victory in your face, desperate for attention.

But at the same time, you are becoming too... something...to mind. Do you... like him? He's not funny, but he thinks you are. His mouth is huge when he laughs. He seems to hate everyone but you, and you've had to earn the distinction of being merely tolerable. Still, he gets really excited about random shit like the garage kit black market and haunted dolls and the price of weed on the dark web.

And... strawberry cake. The realization hits you both at the same time when the waitress brings one piece with two forks. God, what the fuck, are you... are you dating? Quick, think. You look forward to seeing him, and don't even mind sitting close to him anymore. Sometimes you push your leg up against him just to see if he'll still flinch away... and he doesn't.

You jealously notice the way he touches everything but you: with delicate precision, one finger at a time. His large, elegant hands always have a pinky up like he's aspiring for a fiefdom, and you wonder what his skin feels like. You go home and dwell on the way he plucks flowering weeds out of the pavement in front of the cafe. The way he stands rooted to the spot as you leave, just... looking at nothing, unsmiling.

You watch his lips too much, and not just because you want to buy him chapstick. You catch him gaping at you all the time. You thought he was just creepy like that, but maybe... Yeah. I guess you are dating him. Shit. - - - Okay, so, yeah. Bringing him back to your place was definitely a bad idea. You know you shouldn't trust him, even if he is... apparently... your boyfriend? Sort of? You still don't have his phone number. So. Um. What now? You order overpriced pizza and queue up a campy horror movie. What the fuck are you even doing. You don't really think he's going to murder you anymore, but... still. Is the suburban massacre scene gonna give him ideas? Turns out, no. He doesn't like gore, even when the blood is neon pink. He gets upset. Like, really upset. Shaky and green, like he might puke on you. He can't stop scratching that scaly spot on his neck.

Tenko, are you crying? Fucking hell, did you just trigger him? Of course he has a traumatic past, it's carved all over his face. You're so fucking stupid. You don't know how to make it right. You want to hug him, kiss him... anything. But he's never really touched you, and you're too afraid to push now. It ruins the whole night. He leaves without explaining anything. Doesn't even say goodbye. He just. Leaves. Maybe you'll never see him again. Maybe that's for the best. Your chest hurts. - - - He shows up at your door a few weeks later. You haven't heard from him since that disastrous movie night. You had pretty much accepted that you'd broken up with a boyfriend you never actually had. But no. Apparently not.

This time, he’s brought his own entertainment. He's holding a boxed set of some show you're not familiar with. You're distracted by these weird little half-gloves he's wearing, like a cyberpunk hacker. That's a new look, and even if it's a bit edgelord adjacent, he makes it look cool. You tell him as much. It's the first time you've let on how attractive you find him. He's wearing a tight black shirt with a deep, deep V-neck. That's distracting too.

He clears his slender throat and doesn't look at you.

You try to apologize for before, but he's acting like it never happened. What are you even talking about? Have you seen this OVA or not? Get out of the way and let him in already. You've watched three episodes now, but you still have no idea what this stupid anime is about. You can't pay attention to a single frame. All you can think about is how his arm has crept up behind your shoulders. A few inches more and he'll be holding you. Does he... want to hold you? You lean toward him so slowly your spine creaks. One molecule at a time. After a thousand years, your head slides nervously under his chin. His arm comes down, locking you in, fingers clutching your sleeve in a death grip. Even that snobby little pinky. His head tucks down into you hair. A sharp collarbone bites into your cheek. His heartbeat is hard, fast, and irregular. There's not a scrap of fat on him, and as you wrap your arm around his stomach, you think you see a twitch in his pants. Is that just you being desperate? Or... hopeful? This is really happening. --- Soon, you learn that Tenko is a clumsy kisser. It doesn't matter; the fact that he's kissing you at all is good enough for now. His lips are dry, but not half as dry as you expected. There's a slick of menthol helping things along; he's been using something medicated on his lips. Plus, his mouth tastes like he drank a gallon of mouthwash.

All this thrills you more than a little, because it means he came here wanting to impress you. Wanting you. Full stop. Underneath that minty sting is a strange, worrisome aftertaste, like something rotten. Your brain fires off an alarm. Stop kissing him. Right now. This thing will make you sick. But his hands nervously slide over your body... and you decide not to worry about it. Instead, you kiss him deeper. He makes a sweet, startled little noise. Your brain is a fucking liar. It occurs to you he's probably never done this before.

When you lace your fingers in his and try to pull one of his gloves off, he rips his hand away.

Don't. That’s the only explanation he gives.

No need to ask if it's a quirk thing or a trauma thing. Judging by how jittery he gets, it's probably both. You remember the way his hands almost float over objects without ever holding them. Maybe his touch is dangerous. Maybe that's why his face looks like that.

Maybe you should learn more about him before things go way too far...

No. It can't be that bad. Now that he's in your arms, everything frightening about him evaporates. He's vulnerable. He's alone. He's shaking a little. Has anyone else ever seen this side of him? You want to keep him all to yourself, just like this.

So what if he has to touch you with gloves on? You've heard of worse quirk-related inconveniences.

It's okay, Tenko. Do you want to keep going?

You put his hands back on you and wait for him to kiss you again. It doesn't take long.

---

You open his pants. He's long and thin, calloused even here. Every part of him feels untouched, unloved. You hold him tight and squeeze.

It doesn't seem to occur to him to please you in return. He looks afraid. Confused. You're sure you scared him earlier with the glove thing. Is this too much? No. He gasps and leans into you. The tiniest, broken please.

He cums in your hand right away, face buried in your shoulder, his eyes wet and hidden.

I have to go, he says. Over and over and over.

It's okay, Tenko.

You know he doesn't want to.

- - - - - (oops I wrote more)

[boldlyvoid]

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x Mindhunter AU

Spencer Reid x Peggy Carr (OC) Part 2: The Case

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: strangers to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn! flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr and Jason Gideon's biological daughter. mentions of rape and murder (typical canon violence)

word count: 2.2K

ao3

P1

He’s not expecting her to roll out a full map after the waitress clears the food from their table. They’ve been in the booth for barely 20 minutes. Having mindless conversations about their day and small get to know each other questions while they ate.

“So, I brought all this to my dad,” she explained, dropping 33 files on the table as well as 2 spiral notebooks and a handful of pens. “He thinks I have a case, but he’s refusing to look at the evidence because he’s still triggered by it, which I get, but he said you’d be the best at helping me because I really just need a geo-profile consult.”

“How is he doing?”

She’s been waiting for him to ask but she still didn’t know how to answer, no matter how much time she had to prep, “uh, he’s good. He talks about you every time I see him, how often do you talk?”

“We haven’t talked since he almost died, 6 years ago now… yes, it was in 2015,” Spencer says it like it’s nothing serious.

“Oh,” she’s confused about it all. Her father talks about him more than anyone else, always remembering a case or a conversation that he just had to tell her about.

Spencer was his buddy in her eyes. “Here I was thinking he liked you more than me like you’re his favourite kid.”

“I’m not his kid,” his eyes widen at the insinuation that they’re somehow siblings in any sense.

It makes her laugh, she knows he’s interested in her a small amount. She was hoping he would, she’s heard so many wonderful things about him and she remembers just how cute he was back in 2005. Now he’s a man and a mighty fine one at that…

“I take it you’re an only child?” He changes the subject, “you can’t handle the idea of your father having relationships with people your age when you hardly know him?”

“How about you tell me who you think I am and I’ll tell you where you went wrong?” She challenges him rather than answering, she knows he’s good but she wants to see it in action.

Spencer raised his brow, “if I get it right, you’re paying for lunch.”

“Deal.”

He opens her notebook and takes a look at her notes, flipping through the pages reading the words just as fast as her father said he could. It was incomprehensible, but he didn’t read far… he keeps going back to her drawings, studying the pressure and how her mind worked.

“Your mom travelled a lot when you were a kid, and you always went with her. I’m thinking you have a few degrees, at least 3…” he pauses to watch her microexpressions, trailing her skin with his eyes as he looks for anything out of the ordinary. “There’s a doctorate in there but you hate being called Dr. Carr because that’s your mother’s name and it reminds you too much of people asking about her instead of how you’re doing.”

It cuts deep, but he hits the nail on the head and she just blinks. The simplest microexpression that shows him he got it right, his smile is awkward and he’s sorry for it.

“You were homeschooled so you don’t trust people very easily. You have issues with your father that you can’t place because you still don’t think you know him well enough to really have an opinion, and you’re jealous of me because you wish you knew how he brags about you when you’re not around, but he doesn’t talk about you because you told him not to.”

“I specifically told him I wanted to be left out of his life to stay safe, so it’s really my fault that he can’t brag about me. But I still wish someone would,” she admits with a soft smile. “And I think it’s not really jealousy. I’m not jealous of how he brags about his time with you. If anything, I really admire you now.”

He blushes a little, “alright, your turn.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend before have you?” She calls him out right away. “You can’t take a compliment seriously because no one has loved you deep enough yet for you to believe them. I already know about your parents, I know that you’re scared of forgetting and that’s why you won't stop learning. I think you probably have a bucket list, you’re desperate for something exciting to happen and that’s why you like me already.”

He blinks right back, “touché.”

“I’ll still buy your lunch,” she smiled, and he smiled right back. “And I do have 3 degrees.”

“I do too.”

“I know,” she reminded him. “You’ve been working on that 4th one for the last 16 years.”

“I haven’t had the time.”

She shakes her head as she laughs, teasing him as if she’s better than him because she knows he finds her interesting already, “I had my Ph.D. by 17, as well 2 masters by the time I was 21.”

“3 Ph.D.’s by 22,” he bragged right back.

It had suddenly become a staring contest, “when exactly did your dad walk out on you?”

“I was 10.” Spencer answers. “When was the last time your mom said she was proud of you?”

“Oh, we're going that far, I see,” she laughed, hurt just a little that he dug that deep, “what happened to yours recently?”

“Alzheimer’s.”

“I’m really sorry, I knew about the schizophrenia already because of the fisher king case, that one is the one that still has my dad all fucked up,” she can’t help but rant as she apologizes, placing her hands on his in the centre of the table and he interlocks their fingers like they’ve known each other for years.

“Boston?” He asks her, changing the topic back to getting to know each other without letting go of her hands.

She nods, “Vegas?”

“You knew that already,” he catches her.

“Maybe so,” she blushes at the embarrassment of him picking up on her crush.

“How’d he describe me at chess?” There’s a cockiness behind it that she admires, smiling in response she just shakes her head.

“I don’t play chess, but he says that other than Agent Prentiss, you’re the only person who has come close to beating him.”

“Prentiss?” He looks almost offended at the fact he didn’t know that story.

“You were asleep on the jet, it was right after the trip to Azkaban,” she reminds him.

“Azkaban?” He repeats. “You mean Guantanamo?”

She’s only slightly embarrassed by the slip-up, blushing a deep red as she presses her lips together and squeezes his hand. “My mom calls it Azkaban, she hates it. If it wasn’t for the BAU, she would have never joined the bureau or the government in any way, she’s against the criminal justice system too, so…”

“She’s a woman of science and empathy, I’ve never met her, but I’ve read all her work.”

“So have I,” she’s full of butterflies for some reason as she thinks about him knowing everything that she does, she’s suddenly excited at the prospect of future conversations with him like this isn’t a one-time thing.

He’s still holding her hands over the map, both of them leaning in slightly as they kept talking, it felt overly intimate for a discussion of a case— and they haven’t even started yet.

She takes her hands out of his grip and flattens them over the map, “so I found a pattern, I was asked to look into the rape and murder of a friends sister, and now I’ve found 32 matching cases all over America going in alphabetical order by state, 2 a year since 2005.”

“Are you serious?”

She nods softly, “I’m a private investigator. I hated the academy and simply being in the BAU almost killed both of my parents so I’m not really fond of it, but I need help.”

“How did VICAP not pick this up?” Spencer’s still caught up on the fact this has been happening during his entire career and he had no way of helping. It was very clear by the look on his face.

“Because they’re college-age women getting raped in their dorms, 1 in each state, and men don’t care enough to dig a little deeper when it’s just a little girl who was probably asking for it anyway, right?”

He looks furious, but with her… not at her.

Not like most men, that’s actually exactly what any other guy would have said to her. ‘Not most men,’ they only said that if they were offended; when they knew that they were the exact type of man she was referring to.

He started opening case files then, flipping through everything as she watched carefully, “he always does it the exact same way. It’s every March and November between the 6th and 12th, he’s gotten to the O’s, which means the next hit should be in Oklahoma in exactly 2 months' time.”

“Has there been evidence?” Spencer asks, avoiding eye contact as he both listens and absorbs.

“1 footprint and some random fingerprints at the first few, other than that it’s like he was never there,” she sighs. “This is where I need your help; I’m unsure if he’s attacking randomly or if it’s planned ahead of time, so I brought the map to see if you can make any connection.”

“Alright,” he closes the folder and hands them to her so he can get a better look at everything. “I’m going to need the exact address of each one.”

“I have 32 mini maps,” she says, opening her book bag and handing him yet another folder.

“I’ve noticed they’re in every capital, and it’s always on the east side of the city,” she adds as he spreads them out on the table.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns on the flash, turning it face down and holding the sheets of paper over it, “If you look at them over each other, there might be a pattern. We should call my friend Penelope, she’ll be able to digitally do this and find something.”

“Okay,” Peggy nods along, “I really need to know within the week because I’m moving to Oklahoma.”

“What?” He looks overly worried.

“He’s interested in college-age brunettes,” she points at herself. “I’m going to rent an apartment with a sliding door in the kill zone, and I’m going to wait it out. I’ll make sure everyone knows I live alone, I won't make friends, I’ll keep the windows open when I go to the store, I’ll make myself a victim.”

“No, we can get the bureau to send in a team, you don’t need to be in harm's way,” he protests, “I won’t help if I know you’re throwing yourself in the middle of all this. I refuse.”

There’s an underlying panic that she doesn’t quite understand. He’s almost shaking as he thinks about her playing the victim, they stare back and forth at each other softly, eyes flickering over the other’s expression as he also reads her.

“Fine,” she agrees, finally. “But if you’re getting the team involved, I want to be able to have some say in the investigation. I don’t want to be kicked out for just being a PI.”

“On one condition,” Spencer smirks. “You have to teach the BTK seminar with me.”

“Deal,” she smiled. “But I have some conditions too.”

“Anything?”

He was going to regret that.

“We can’t sleep together until we catch the guy— don’t look at me like that!” she catches the way his jaw drops and his eyes glisten.

He’s in complete shock, trying to say words and failing miserably as she stares at him knowingly. “I only said that because I need rules for myself too. We can’t care more about each other than the victims. Solve the case with me and then I’ll have a crush on you, okay?”

“Okay,” he finally finds the words to agree. “Was it that obvious?”

“We held hands for 5 minutes, I’ve thought you were cute since you were 23 and that seminar was a; 'my horse is bigger than your horse' flirting match,” she calls it all out, “I’m just as into you as you are into me already, if not more so because I know way too much about you thanks to my dad and uncle Rossi.”

“Dave knew about you too?” He’s more upset than she expected.

She nods, “yeah, so that I’d be taken care of if anything happened to my dad.”

He is a little upset and she can’t figure out why from what she knows already, “why?”

“You’re so interesting, you and I could have been friends for the last 15 years and things could have been so interesting but you were a secret,” he whispers.

“I was right wasn’t I?”

He nods again, “Gideon doesn’t know about Maeve, but I had a girlfriend who died in front of me before I could tell her I loved her and it broke me.”

Everything makes sense now. The stares, the stuttering, the defensiveness at the idea of her being in harm's way after only knowing her for a few hours. He was desperately looking for someone like himself to prove that he wasn’t going to be alone forever, and he wanted that to be found in her.

“Solve the case with me, then you can learn what it’s like to love someone who loves you back.”

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[blazedgraysons]

babe can u bless us w some new years smut w papi gray ?

oml i’m sorry it took me so long to finish this but of course, angel!! lmaoo let’s start the new year out with some hate sex with gray.

warnings: so i guess the words papi gray triggered something in me because i don’t really know what this is anymore. anyways hatefucking, a smidge of choking, some dirty talk and the return of my fave: cocky fuckboy grayson. anyways hope you like it bby <333

New Year’s had never been your favorite holiday. Too many blacked-out people in a bar, all with high hopes for the year that come quickly crashing down the next day along with their hangovers. Plus, it doesn’t help that you’ve been puked on two NYEs in a row.

It wasn’t like you had a personal vendetta against the holiday, just the older you got, the more you wanted to spend New Years' at home. So you ended up creating your own traditions: Indian food, shitty beer, and rewatching your favorite chick flicks.

This is why you were so surprised to find yourself outside of a huge party this year. Your two best friends had dragged you with them, explaining how they didn’t want to ring in New Year’s without you.

“I look like a disco ball.” You groan as the three of you walk in, Ali and Stella confidently leading the way.

“You look hot.” Ali assures, smiling in what you figure is supposed to be a comforting way. She had been the one to invite the two of you tonight, and a part of you feels bad for your miserable attitude, knowing that she just wanted to spend time with you.

“Warning: Dolan at 3 O’Clock.” Your other friend, Stella, whispers into her red solo cup, and you can feel your bad mood return. Turning your head slightly, you can see Grayson Dolan walking in with his entourage, already acting as if he owns the room.

You can hear Ali snapping at Stella, reminding her how they agreed not to point him out tonight, but all you can focus on is how arrogant Grayson looked.

The two of you had never gotten along, a wrong first date leaving each other permanently on the other’s shit list. Despite your disdain for another, the two of you ran in the same friend group, so you saw each other more often than you like. At this point, everyone knew to keep you two far away from each other unless they wanted a whole night of insults, fighting, and yelling.

“Remind me why you two hate each other again? It’s been like two years.” Stella asks nonchalantly, tilting her head as she holds up her drink.

“We just do. He was a dick on our date. Some people aren’t meant to get along.”

“Aw, you two just need to kiss and makeup.” Ali coos, fixing your hair.

“More like fuck and makeup. So what if you had a bad date. The two of you still have this weird sex thing that needs to be figured out.” Stella interjects.  

“I do not-“ Your friends start laughing at your loud objection, watching as your face grows hot in embarrassment.

“I do not want to fuck him!” You hiss, hiding your face from nosy onlookers.

“Why not? I would; he’s fucking hot.” Stella whispers, gesturing over to him. All three of you look over at where he’s standing against the kitchen counter, laughing loudly with his group of friends.

You hated to admit it, but she was right: he really was super attractive. He’s simply dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, denim jacket finishing everything off. It’s nothing special, but you hate the fact that he still somehow managed to look better than everyone else here.

He looks over, smirking when he sees your little group staring at him. All three of you turn away, doing a horrible job at trying to look inconspicuous. Your back is turned towards him as you fix your hair and smoothing out your dress. Ali’s eyes light up suddenly, and she’s whispering to Stella before turning back to you.

“Stella has to pee; we’ll be right back.” She rushes out while dragging Stella to the nearest bathroom. Before you can protest, Grayson’s taking their spot.

He’s chewing his gum obnoxiously, and you can’t help the way your eyes focus on how his jaw moves with every bite.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I was just leaving. Decided it’s not really for me anymore.” You get out, moving past him to walk to the door. You figured you can just call an Uber and text your two friends you were feeling sick. Before you can make it past, he grabs your arm to stop you.

“C’mon, it’s the last day of the year. Can’t you be nice to me just for tonight?” He asks, eyes shining with mischief.

“ Don’t you have some other girl to mess with?” You yank your wrist back, walking off as he follows you.

“Why? You jealous.” He asks, and you know that arrogant smirk is painted on his face.

“Over you? Hardly.” You keep moving until he says something that has you stopping in your tracks.

“Did you wear that dress for me tonight?” Your jaw clenches, annoyance washing over your body. However, you figure two can play this game, so you turn around, walking towards him with a flirtatious expression on your face. He’s looking down at you, appreciating the way your attitude has done a complete 180. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his face towards yours, leaning in as if you’re going to kiss him.

“Fuck you.” You whisper, mouth millimeters away from his. You turn away, turning to look at him over your shoulder one last time. The irritated expression on his face and his clenched jaw should’ve warned you that you were playing with fire. Still, you simply keep walking forward, choosing to look for Ali and Stella.

Maybe you could stay a little longer to see how this plays out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck Grayson Dolan.

At this point, you weren’t sure if you were angrier at him or if you actually wanted to fuck him.

All you know is he was pushing every last button.

It started with constant flirting - just with everyone else besides you. You knew Grayson was a tease, but you swore he had given every girl at this party his signature charming smile. The one that screamed, 'I'm Grayson Dolan, and you're the only one here for  me.' You had pretended like you hadn’t seen red when he leaned down to whisper a joke in some girl's ear, winking at you when he notices the way your eyes had narrowed and your lips were puckered.

It only got worse when he decided he needed a refill on his drink, coming up to where you were standing in the hallway. He slyly placed his hands low on your waist, pressing up against you to squeeze by even though you both knew that there was more than enough space.

You were in the middle of debating on whether or not you should finally leave for good this time, figuring you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to this torture when you still have leftover takeout in your fridge.

“Hey, we need to talk to you. Can you meet us in the upstairs bedroom in like 5 minutes?” Ali appears out of nowhere, blonde curls messed up as if she’s been running her hands nervously through her hair. Stella just nods casually, and you look at the two of them suspiciously.

“What are you two planning?” You ask.

“Nothing! Upstairs. Five minutes!” Ali assures, kissing you on the cheek before walking off again. You can tell she’s drunk, smelling the lingering vodka shots on her breath. However, curiosity gets the better of you, and after five minutes, you’re slowly walking up the stairs.

“Ali? Stel?” You call out, getting nothing in response. You keep walking until you reach the end of the hallway, closed door in front of you. You open it, greeted with the sight of Grayson in front of you.

“What the fuck?” You both exclaim, the door closing behind you. You jangle the door handle, cursing under your breath when you realize it’s locked.

“We’re not letting you out until you guys kiss!” Ali calls out.

“You guys got 20 minutes until midnight.” Stella laughs, both still holding the door tightly to keep you from breaking through.

“Oh my God, we’re not fucking 12. This isn’t 7 minutes in heaven.”

“Less talking, more frenching!” Ali yells, giggling loudly as her heels slowly click away.

You roll your eyes, “You two are the fucking worst.” You kick the door before sliding down against it, tilting your head against the door.

“Your friends are weird.” are the first words out of Grayson’s mouth, and you roll your eyes.

“They mean well, they’re just really … stupid sometimes.”You get back up to your feet and start knocking on the door, hitting it with your palms, anything that could hopefully get a passerby’s attention.

“Can you stop banging on the door? It’s annoying.” Grayson mumbles out from where he’s sitting up on the bed after five minutes of your obnoxious knocking.

“I’m sorry, did you want to spend New Year’s locked in here with one another. I’m trying to get out.”

He leans back down on the bed, covering his eyes with his arms. “You realize it’s locked; we’re stuck in here. No one’s coming up here for a while.”

You hate to admit it, but you know he’s right. With only 20 minutes until midnight, everyone’s going to be downstairs, not wanting to miss the main event. You walk over to the dresser, sitting on top of it as you pull out your phone to find someone to text for an emergency rescue.

“We really should just sleep with one another.”

You nearly drop your phone in your lap from his sudden outburst. “I think that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Why not? I think you’re hot; I know you think I’m hot. Stop- don’t try to argue with me; I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Let’s just get this over with; clear start to 2021.” He looks over at you, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, “I’m not sleeping with you Grayson.”

“What, scared you might actually like it?” He pushes himself up off the mattress and stalks over to where you’re seated on top of the dresser. You start to feel uncharacteristically timid, not knowing how to react under his dark gaze. You don’t say anything, just watching the way his eyes rake over your entire body slowly.

He takes a deep breath, “If I kiss you right now, will you let me?” You wait a second before throwing on caution to the wind, and nodding, deciding to give in to whatever tension is growing between you.

He leans down, softly kissing you before coming back to gauge your reaction.

“If you kiss anything like the way you fuck, this is gonna fucking suck.” You whisper, smiling at the way his face drops. He pulls you into him, forcing his lips onto yours roughly. It’s messy, teeth clashing into one another, noses bumping, and you love it. You didn’t want softness, you didn’t want intimacy, you wanted Grayson to let out everything he felt towards you.

He starts to roughly mark down your neck, leaving dark marks, and you whimper, desperately pulling his jacket off his shoulders. He leans back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your mouth falls slightly. You take in all the deep contours and ridges, not even missing the way he flexes briefly.

“Like what you see?” He rasps out, pants growing tighter at your open arousal.

“Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean I’m another one of your fans. I still fucking hate you.” You pull your dress off and spread your legs slightly on the dresser. You mentally thank Ali for forcing you to skip wearing a bra because the way Grayson’s face zeros in on your bare tits has you whimpering softly. He moves even closer to you.

“Doesn’t seem like you hate me right now.” He whispers, eyes darkening at the dark spot growing on your underwear. His arms are on either side of your thighs as he’s standing in between your legs. You can feel the heat coming off from his body, close enough that you can pick up the subtle nerves in his energy under waves of excitement.

“Whatever.” You’re trying your hardest to remain unaffected, calm under his intense gaze. Still, between the lack of touch and the way he’s looking like he can’t figure out how he wants to ruin you first, you start to squirm.

He pulls roughly at your underwear; you watch as his biceps bulge until the fabric falls apart in his hands. Whatever facade of calmness you were trying to maintain flies out the window. You swallow deeply, eyes wide as he tosses the ruined underwear over his shoulder with a cocky smirk. The smug look on his face is enough for you to snap back to normal and return to your usual backtalk.

“Watch it, asshole. Those aren’t cheap.”

“Trust me, I’ll buy you two more to make up for it. Now shut up; you talk too much.” With that, he’s leaning down and sucking your clit hard.

You’re not quick to compliment Grayson, but you can admit he’s incredible at eating pussy. He genuinely sounds like he’s ready to die in between your legs, quietly groaning to himself with every suck and lick. Your breath hitches at the imagery, and he’s slowly licking up your slit, savoring the way you taste for him. He gives you a few more licks before he starts sucking at your clit again, and you can feel yourself growing closer.

“Fuck, Gray- I’m about to cu-“ Before you can finish, he’s pulling away and smiling up at you with shiny lips.

“Fuck you.” You practically spit out, and he just laughs shortly, amusement barely hidden in his face.

“Before I make you cum, I wanna hear you ask nicely.” He’s leaning into you again, lips hovering yours, mirroring the same position you had him in earlier. You push his shoulder, hoping to give you some distance, but he stays firmly planted in place.

“If you think I’m gonna beg for your sorry excuse of a dick -“

He cuts you off, fingers slipping inside you, and he starts curling his fingers, your back arching into his touch. With how close you were to your orgasm, you’re falling apart in a matter of seconds. You start whimpering out his name, and he stills all his movements, thumb hovering over your clit.

“Beg.” He demands, and neither of you misses the way you tightly clench around him from the change of tone in his voice.

You stare at him long until he lightly brushes your clit, reminding you of what you’re missing in your stubbornness. You sigh dramatically before swallowing your pride and saying:

“Grayson, fuck me.” He stares at you pointedly, and you sigh again.

“Please, Gray. Want you to fuck me, please.” You whisper. It’s not a lot, but he knows that’s probably the most he’s going to get out of you at this moment, so he just smiles proudly and starts moving his fingers again. The coil in your stomach starts to grow tighter, and your toes curl when you start cumming all of your fingers. You cry out, nails scratching down his stomach as he continues to move his hand to work you through your orgasm.

He leans back, sucking up everything on his fingers before unbuckling and taking his pants and underwear off. You were glad he had made you cum before because he was big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with before. He brushes his dick over your entrances a few times, tapping his dick lightly on your clit. You whimper slightly, and he winks, arrogant persona back in full force.

“You’re still a dick.” You whisper, no real sting to your words.

“Yeah, I know.” He strokes his dick lightly before sinking in, and both of you moan out from the initial feeling.

He starts snapping his hips relentlessly, not giving you time to adjust to his pace. Your eyes begin to roll back, only able to focus on the wood digging into your back, arm wrapped around your waist, and dick ramming roughly into you. You’re moaning out constantly, nothing able to come to mind to express how good he’s making you feel.

However, Grayson is starting to get frustrated, not satisfied with the way you’ve laid out in front of him. He picks you up, holding you close to him before dropping you carelessly on the bed. Before you can say anything, he’s twisting your body around, so you’re on all fours in front of him and is sliding back into you, taking you from behind. You’re arching underneath him, allowing him to reach you even deeper as you moan out. He’s practically fucking you into the mattress, and from your constant sounds and ass jiggling in front of him, he’s releasing a guttural groan.  

He places an arm next to your head while wrapping a large hand around your throat, lightly cutting off your air. His body is entirely over yours, encasing your entire body in his large frame. It all starts to get to be too overwhelming, and your mind starts to go blank from the pleasure, pulling at the railings to get away from how hard he’s fucking into you while also leaning back into him to get more.

“Stop running; thought you wanted to see how good I can fuck you.” He moves his hand to slap your ass, and his dick jumps from the way you start squeezing around him. He rubbing your ass, ready to spank you again, when the both of you stop from loud screams coming below you. You both hear yells about countdowns and New Year’s and Grayson’s leaning down, rutting himself into you before whispering in your ear -

“How much you wanna bet I can get you to cum before midnight?”

10!

You didn’t think he could go any faster, but his movements pick up, hitting your g-spot with every movement of his hips.

9!

He brushes his fingers against your lip, watching as you slowly take them into your mouth and start sucking. You don’t miss the way he lightly swears when you lightly nip at the pads of his fingers. “Fucking brat.” He mutters before he’s wrapping his hand around your throat again.

8!

He moves his hand, going back up on his knees so he can hold you still as he keeps thrusting into you.

7!

With the way he’s gripping your hips and pulling you back into him, you already know you’re gonna be bruised with his fingerprints on your hip tomorrow.

6!

You start to fall forward, and all you can think about is how badly you want to cum.

5!

He starts rubbing at your clit, and you swear you can feel him deep in your stomach, knowing that he’s going to be responsible for your limp tomorrow.

4!

“If only I knew earlier that all I needed to do to get you to shut up was to fuck you properly” were the words coming out, and you hate yourself for moaning out louder at the way he says it.

3!

You can tell he’s starting to get close by the way he starts slowing down, choosing to grind his hips slowly into you.

2!

You haven’t stopped moaning, volume picking up until you’re practically sobbing into the pillow. You briefly think how grateful you are for the screaming in the living room when Grayson smacks your ass hard before groaning in your ear, “Fucking cum, Y/N.”

1!

The tight feeling in your stomach snaps, and a small spurt of wetness releases, you squirting into his dick and thighs. You practically collapse forward, suddenly exhausted, and it only takes a few more thrusts before Grayson’s pulling out to cum on your lower back.

Happy New Year’s, Y/N.” He whispers in a cocky tone, pride in how he practically has you reduced to nothing underneath him.

He covers you in a blanket before getting dressed and walking back out to the party, not even bothering to hide his self-satisfied smirk when his friends ask him why he missed the ball drop.