#good luck with school and your situation ☆ !!! kick life's ass i believe in you!!!!

[takami-takami]

sorry i heard "meanie keigo" and it like fucking revived me ig

i would say smth longer but college is kicking my ass rn w a bunch of assignments, exams next week and the fucking fee im struggling to pay off so this is mainly to let u know i aint dead LMFAO

okay but on the topic of keigo mocking ur whimpers and moans imagine he just sticks two fingers into your mouth and presses down on your tongue so you sound even more pathetic (it only makes you feel needier for him, with tears in ur eyes and drool pooling in your mouth)

-☆

(i will be back soon to scream abt keigo i prommy)

☆ ANON WE MISSED YOU!!!!

Oh my god. Keigo who knows you have an oral fixation, who knows your brain gets just a bit fuzzy when you're drooling around his fingers. He can't hold that serious look on his face for long as he stares down the bridge of his nose at your stuttering, muffled hiccups. "Messy, messy thing," he mutters through a smile.

[afictionalwhore]

Father Figure

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────

A/N: this is for the lovely lovely @jadequeen88. I had teased her with this for far too long.

DILF Kirishima x fem reader

Words: 3.2K

TW: Noncon/dubcon at first. Somnophilia. Daddy kink. Age gap.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────

Eijiro Kirishima, better known as Red Riot, lived a good life. He had a successful career as one of the top ten pro-heros upon retirement. He had a good apartment in a safe neighborhood. Most importantly, he had a daughter he loved with his entire being. Kiri also had you. 

Kiri had watched you grow up alongside his daughter and liked to think of you as his own, being the closest, and perhaps only friend, to the only Kirishima child. You had grown up beside his daughter, the two of you inseparable. He was there for every school event, from kindergarten graduation to high school graduation. Kirishima didn’t know when you had grown into such a woman. One day, you were the small child running around the apartment playground with his daughter, the next, the two of you were just finishing up finals of your junior year of college. Kirishima felt like he had blinked and you were no longer the little girl but a full grown woman, and practically a stranger. 

It had been a while since you had come home, always out on some sort of spring break vacation with his daughter. Over time, as you had grown from preschooler to teenager to college student, Kiri himself felt like you had grown distant from him. Not being your biological parent, Kiri felt like he had no entitlement to be involved in your life, so no matter how much it hurt him to see you move on with your life, he let you.

You had shown up one day, stating that your finals were over but you didn’t want to go home yet.  His daughter’s own university was just starting their finals week, but she had said you could go on to the Kirishima house; her father wouldn’t mind.

Kirishima nearly choked on his morning coffee when he saw you coming through the door. You were no longer the small child running after his daughter, but a grown woman, and you had filled out in ways that sent Kiri’s mind reeling.

“If you don’t want me here, I can leave, Mr. Kirishima,” you said, gazing across the room at him from under long lashes. 

“No, no,” he waved, maneuvering his newspaper to avoid making eye contact with you so you wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up his face. “You’re always welcome here. And it’s Eiji.”

You struggled through the door with your suitcase, heavy with your summer wardrobe. Kirishima moved away from his coffee and newspaper, setting down the small rectangle frames he had been prescribed after retiring. 

“Here. Let me help.” He reached out for your belongings, his large, warm hand brushing against yours. Kiri had always been aware of how small you were, but now the brush of his skin against yours sent electricity shooting through him.

“Thank you, Mr. Kirishima!” you chirped. “I mean, Eiji.” You blushed a little as you corrected yourself.

“No worries,” Kiri coughed. “Make yourself at home. I’ll set these in the spare room.”

It was one of the longest weeks of Kirishima’s life. You were driving Kirishima crazy, from the way you danced in the kitchen when you thought you were alone to the times Kiri had caught you staring at him. All week, he had struggled with thoughts of you, chastising himself. Kiri never meant to act on his feelings towards you. He instead planned to keep them bottled up inside him forever, relieving himself only in the privacy of his ensuite shower. He thought himself to be nothing more than a disgusting old man preying on a young college girl. But you were an addiction, and Kiri found himself sneaking glances your way, hoping for little ways to brush against you and feel you against him.

Kiri blamed his current feelings on years of pent up frustrations. His romantic life had been so dull that there were rumors of him dating fellow pro-hero Dynamite, his good friend Katuski, despite the man being happily married for years now. While working, Kirishima had no interest in romance, he had the occasional fling at the insistence of his agency for publicity, but nothing seemed to stick. Sex and romance were the least of his worries. Kirishima didn’t even remember who the mother of his daughter was, but she didn’t bother him, and he was happy with his small family.

Kirishima has allowed himself one date that week, an attempt to keep his mind from filling with images of you. The date had ended horrifically, the woman being only concerned with his financial situation as a retired top ten, and Kirishima found himself tired, frustrated, and still thinking of you.

Kirishima kicked off his shoes upon entering his dark home. He prayed that you were already asleep, or even better, out of the apartment completely with some other man, though the thought made his heart sink a little more. Upon entering his bedroom to make his way to get ready for bed, the sight that greeted Kiri nearly sent him into a heart attack.

You were laying flat across his bed on your stomach, clutching an extra pillow of his  like you were almost willing it to be his warm, broad chest. Kiri shook his head, believing it to just be wishful thinking. You had one leg stretched out underneath you. The other leg was hiked up, almost on top of the makeshift chest of a pillow if it had been a little longer. At some point in your sleep, you had thrown the blankets on the floor, leaving yourself in full view for anyone who happened to walk by.

You were wearing a Red Riot t-shirt that was much too large for you. If Kiri hadn’t known better, he would have guessed that you had swiped it from his closet while he was out earlier that day. While the shirt was large enough for him, with your leg hiked so far up, the shirt barely covered your Georgia peach ass. 

Did you have any idea of what you were doing to him? Kiri thought you must have known the way you batted your pretty lashes at him and flashed your little lace panties at him when you bent down in front of him to pick up your dropped keys. If Kiri weren’t so plagued with the intoxicating thought of you he may have laughed at that. You were nothing but a college girl in her early twenties with, to his knowledge judging by how easily you blushed, little to no sexual experience trying to make her way into the bed of a man old enough to be her father. You had succeeded, too. You were literally in his bed.

As Kiri crept closer, he noticed that the position you were in gave him the smallest glimpse of the pussy he had been fantasizing about for weeks. You weren’t wearing anything under the giant red shirt with his face plastered on the front. You definitely knew what you were up to.

He pulled down the gray sweats he had worn to bed just enough to free his aching cock. He wondered when he got to be such a dirty old man. The sight of you alone was enough to get him already leaking precum. He gave himself a few slow pumps, biting back a low groan. Standing over your smaller, sleeping form, hard cock in hand, it took everything in Kiri not to cum on the spot.

Kiri slowly sat on the edge of the bed, taking care to not let his sudden additional weight move the mattress too much and cause you to wake up. Testing his luck, he pulled your shirt you were wearing up just enough to get a better view of your pussy, his large and calloused hand ghosting along the curve of your ass as he moved the fabric out of his way. Your puffy folds were already glistening with slick, and Kiri had to wonder what it was that you were dreaming about.

Kiri held his breath, praying you wouldn’t wake up. Even his breathing sounded too loud, echoing throughout the room as Kiri traced a single digit up your folds. He collected a fair amount of slick thanks to your dreaming and settled a calloused finger on your clit. Sharp shark teeth bit into his bottom lip as he made small circles on the bundle of nerves, carefully watching your face for your reactions. Occasionally, your face would contort with slight pleasure before settling back into deep sleep.

After working your clit for a bit, Kiri thought you were wet enough for him to sneak a thick finger into your warm and welcoming walls. He curled the digit within you, wanting to explore every millimeter of you. With a shaky breath, he added a second finger, pausing his ministrations on his own cock to watch you squirm in your sleep, adjusting to the pressure between your legs. You shifted in your sleep, spreading your legs ever so softly as if to invite him in further. After what felt like eternity, you stilled once again, and Kiri continued slowly pumping the two fingers into you, occasionally scissoring and savoring the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing so tightly around just his fingers. He couldn’t imagine how tight you would feel around his thick cock. With one hand working your pussy and one pumping himself, Kiri thought he was as close to heaven as he was going to get. He was definitely going to hell for this.

Kiri felt himself reaching his end, tracing his tip with his thumb. Kiri withdrew his fingers from you. Without thinking, he closed his mouth around the digits, tongue swirling around trying to gain every last drop of you.

Kiri felt like he couldn’t hold himself back after getting the smallest taste of you. You were just as sweet as he had imagined, if not more. He blamed it on the wine he had with dinner earlier in the evening, despite dinner being hours ago and that he had such a small amount he was perfectly safe to drive himself home. He wanted to push his luck as far as it would go, afraid he would never get a chance with you again.

Kiri shifted off the bed, careful to not let the change of weight wake you. He walked around to the edge of the bed and laid back down, hard cock resting underneath him on the soft fitted sheet. He placed his face right in front of your cunt and slowly allowed a warm tongue lap at you. Kiri moaned into you, the vibrations tickling your clit. Giant hands rested on your ass, spreading you to give himself better access. Getting carried away, Kiri found himself rutting against the sheets, desperate for any kind of friction on his painfully hard length as he ate you like a starving man.

“What are you doing?” your voice, still heavy with sleep, broke Kiri’s ministrations. He raised his face from between your legs, face burning with shame. Kiri hung his head low as he pulled away from your wet cunny, afraid to meet your eyes.

“I—” Kiri was stunned into silence. His face burned with shame, the tips of his ears and his cheeks growing red enough to rival the picture of Red Riot on your shirt. “I should go. I’m sorry.”

You rolled over as Kiri pulled away from you and pushed yourself up, so you were sitting straight. You reached out for him as Kiri moved to leave, your smaller hand barely wrapping around his large wrist. Kiri glanced up at you in shock before lowering his head back down, still refusing to look at you. The long black hair that he’d given up on dyeing after retirement created a curtain to shield him from you. Once you were sure he wouldn’t move, you let go of his wrist in favor of both hands coming up to cup his large face, forcing the man to look at you. Round, red eyes, dark with shame and disgust, met yours. 

“Is this a dream?” you whispered, warm breath washing over Kiri’s face.

“No,” he softly replied, trying to turn away from your gaze. “Like I said, I should really—“

“Good.”

Before Kiri could register what you had said, you had pulled his face back towards your own and crashed your lips into his. Recovering quickly from shock, Kiri found himself wrapping large arms around your frame, pulling you deeper into him. Your lips melted together, casting aside all of Kiri’s anxieties while relighting the flame that his earlier shame had nearly extinguished.

Hungrily, you had crawled into Kiri’s lap. You bit his bottom lip before your tongue darted across to soothe the sting of your teeth. Kiri opened up, allowing you to explore his mouth with your own, moans from the both of you being swallowed by the other.

Giant hands pawed at your shirt. You giggled as you pulled away from Kiri to lift your shirt up and over your head, stretching up slowly to tease the older man before tossing the shirt aside and letting your tits bounce with the movement. Kiri ogled at you, still in disbelief that you actually wanted him and hadn’t kicked him and ran away the moment you woke up to him touching you.

“Wanna touch them?” You coyly asked, cupping your chest in your smaller hands and giving a slight squeeze.

“It’s okay?” Kiri asked. The giant, older man looked at you like a kicked puppy.

You nodded your reassurance and, almost immediately, Kiri pounced on you. The larger man pushed you back down to lay flat on the mattress as he fondled your chest, pinching and teasing your nipples that had already hardened due to the coolness of the room despite the heat between the two of you. His hands were so big compared to you, his palm covered your tit. Light moans fell from your lips as Kiri continued his teasing, trailing kisses along your neck and collarbone. 

“You’re so soft,” Kiri whispered against you, his warm breath tickling your skin before a hot mouth enclosed on your nipple.

You tangled your hands into his long, dark hair as he sucked and nipped on you. Not wanting to leave any part of you neglected, Kiri pinched your twin nipple with one hand, the other occupied with the breast currently in his mouth.

“Come here,” you tugged on his hair, causing the man to pull off you with a lewd pop. “Kiss me,” you pouted.

Kiri wasted no time, devouring your lips in a hungry kiss, tongue sneaking out to play with your own. Kiri began rutting at you, rolling his hips into yours to gain friction. You gasped and squeezed his shoulders, pulling him deeper into you. 

“Please,” you begged, breaking the kiss and rolling your hips against his in an attempt to push him into you.

“Are you sure?” he asked, still in disbelief that you actually wanted him back.

“Yes!” you cried. His previous teasing caused an unsated fire to burn within you.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, wanting to be extra cautious that you genuinely wanted him and not just a hormonal mess due to him.

“Yes! Why do you think I’m in your bed naked, you dumb old man!” You were getting desperate, your arousal near painful.

“Okay okay!” Kiri chuckled. “What’s my name?” he growled in your ear before nipping at you, sending shivers down your spine.

“Kiri!” you gasped.

“Try again.” He held his large cock in his hand, dragging up and down your slit but making no motion to thrust in.

“Eiji!”

“Close, but not quite what I’m looking for.”

“Daddy!” You started whining desperate to feel him in you.

“Atta girl,” Kiri smirked.

Slowly, the much larger man pushed himself in your tight walls that pulsed around him trying to accommodate for his size. Your hands grasped at his shoulders, nails sinking into the broad muscle. You felt better than he could have imagined. Your velvet walls wrapped around him perfectly, squeezing with a delicious tightness that wasn’t too painful. You were so hot, so tight, so wet. Kiri was amazed he didn’t cum right then and there. You pushed your hips back at Kiri to get him to move.

After a few thrusts, Kiri lifted your legs, encouraging you to wrap them around him, digging your feet into the small of his back. The new position allowed him to sink deeper into you, letting the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with the sweetest pain.

“Good girl,” Kiri purred at you, causing you to clench around him. “Is this what you like? A dirty old man like me fucking this tight pussy?”

You moaned and tugged at his hair.

“Use your words, baby girl.” Kiri teased.

“Yes!” you cried for him. “Yes, daddy.”

“I’m old enough to be your father. I practically raised you. You really want me to be your daddy?”

“Yes, daddy. Yes, please.”

“Okay, baby girl. I’ll be your daddy.”

Kiri continued to thrust into you, the bed creaking in protest from the strength he used to drive himself into you. You pulled at his long, overgrown hair as he kissed and sucked at your neck, leaving possessive marks down the column of skin. The room echoed with the wet sound of skin slapping and your moans.

“You feel so good, baby girl.”

“You make me feel good, daddy. I’m so close, daddy.”

“Me too, baby.” Kiri grunted, his hips losing his steady rhythm. “Cum with me, yea?”

“Yes, daddy.” Your eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy and Kiri felt himself nearing his end once again. 

“Cumming, daddy! Cumming!” your pussy clamped down on Kiri, squeezing in earthquake rhythms to milk him dry. 

Kiri bit down on your shoulder as he came, his sharklike teeth drawing the slightest bit of blood. You held him close to you, the weight of the larger man nearly crushing you as spurts of hot white filled your warm walls.

The two of you laid there, heads spinning and chests heaving trying to regain your breaths. When you had returned to earth, Kiri made no move to withdraw from you, instead choosing to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. You ran your hand through his hair while the other traced lazy patterns on his shoulder.

“How long?” you heard him say against  your skin.

“Hm?” you hummed.

“How long have you wanted that?”

“A while.”

“You won’t regret it?” he sounded almost afraid of your answer.

“No.”

“What now?”

“I guess that’s up to you.”

Kiri lifted himself to look into your eyes, no longer clouded by lust and swimming with love. He placed a gentle, chaste kiss on your bruised lips.

“I want to try to make something work,” he whispered against your lips before laying back down on you.

“Good, I do too.”

Kiri felt himself drifting off to sleep in your warm embrace, the hand in his hair lulling him gently. A panicked thought sent him shooting up.

“Does she know?” he asked, eyes round with fear.

“I think she has an idea, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Just go to sleep for now, okay?”

“Okay,” Kiri yawned. 

He settled himself back down on you, sighing deeply and breathing you in. Soon enough, the two of you had fallen asleep tangled into each other.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────

[midnightstar-90]

Live Laugh Love ~ Pilot

Masterlist | Taglist | Request

Georgie Cooper x Reader

Summary: 9-year-old Sheldon Cooper learns that having a brilliant mind doesn't always help growing up in Texas.

Warning: None

A/N: I wrote 2,587 words! I loved being able to bring my creations to life. I hope to do more in the future.

Y/N and Georgie are in Georgie's room when Mary calls the two teens down for dinner. They head down the stairs and into the kitchen. As they sit down in their chairs, right next to each other, they hear Mary yells towards the garage, "Shelly, dinner's ready!" Mary starts serving the table as we wait for Sheldon. George yells out to Sheldon after a couple of minutes, "Sheldon! Don't make me come in there!" Y/N and Georgie sit there engaging in a hushed conversation about the movie they watched together earlier that week. Missy soon gets tired of waiting for Sheldon, and yells to Sheldon, "Sheldon, if you don't get in here, I'm gonna lick your toothbrush while you're sleeping!" Sheldon quickly responds with, "Coming" before rushing into the house to eat.

Sheldon enters the house, and he quickly sits down with the rest of his family, who are all sitting around the table. George waits for the boy to sit down before saying, "What the hell were you doing in there?" Mary calls George's name with a calm yet angry voice. George notices and responds with, "What?" Mary gets onto George for his language. "What language?" George asks Mary before turning to Sheldon, "So?" "I was having fun with dimensional kinematics", Sheldon says responding to his father. Hearing this, Y/N and Georgie look at each other and roll their eyes.

"Just at admit it, he's adopted," Georgie says to his parents after turning his attention away from his food. Sheldon turns to Georgie and says, "How could I be adopted when I have a twin sister? Think monkey, Think." Y/N chuckles at Sheldon's insult towards Georgie. Georgie gives Y/N a glare. Mary breaks the fight between the boys by telling them that no one was adopted, but Y/N. Mary realizes what she says and sadly looks at Y/N. Y/N just shrugs and goes back to listening to the people she called family. Y/N was sad about the reminder of the situation that occurred when 11 years ago but didn't let the comment affect her.

"I wish I was.", Missy comments under her breath. "That can still be arranged.", Mary tells Missy before telling the family that it is time to pray. George expresses his irritation with a groan, causing Mary to give George a very stern look. Right before the family starts to pray, Sheldon puts on a pair of mittens. George groans again which makes Y/N chuckle. "Leave him be," Mary says defending her youngest son. George argues, "He can hold hands with his family, it won't kill him."  "We don't know that." Sheldon says before looking at Georgie and asks, "Did you wash your hands before dinner?" "Shut up," says Georgie defensively. Y/N finally speaks up, "Hey, I have to hold his hand to pray every night, whether his hands are washed or not." Georgie glares at Y/N again, and Y/N and Missy laugh and high-five each other under the table. "I hold his hand Y/N, hence the mittens." Y/N playfully rolls her eyes at the comment. The family holds their hands together and prays.

After prayer, Sheldon takes off his mittens and starts eating with the family. Mary asked everyone at the table if they were excited to start school on Monday. Sheldon is the first to respond with an "I am". Missy then responds to Mary's question with an "I guess so". Y/N is third to respond with, "I guess. The only thing I like is hanging out with Georgie and the fact that I am in Art this year". Ever since Y/N moved into Cooper's household, Mary noticed that the one thing Y/N loved more than hanging out with Georgie was how creative she was. At church, Y/N would sing like angel. When Y/N thought Mary wasn't looking she would dance her heart out. Y/N also had a sketchbook full of really cool art and a notebook full of wonderful poems and stories. Mary knew Y/N was gonna have a successful life, and she hoped and prayed that Georgie wouldn't mess it up for her.

Georgie was not happy about starting school. "How can I be excited when he's gonna be there?!" Georgie complains. Sheldon boasts, "Don't worry, I won't be in the ninth grade for very long". George tries to help Georgie by saying, "Never mind him, you and Y/N just focus on your practice". Georgie is on the football team and Y/N is on the cheer squad. "How am I supposed to do that when he's in the same grade as me?" "Just ignore him. At least you'll have me there, except for 5th period. I have art" Y/N reassures her best friend.

"All I know is he's not in the same grade as me anymore, and I am thrilled," Missy says before getting a kick in the leg and glare from Y/N. Sheldon sarcastically says, "Good luck with your finger painting."Missy responds with, "You're gonna get your ass kicked in high school". Mary yells at Missy about her language. Sheldon says, "I'm not going to be assaulted- high school is a haven for higher learning". Y/N and George both respond with a quiet, "oh, dear God".

"Speaking of God, who's going to church with me tomorrow?" Mary asked. George says he can't make it because he has to meet with the other coaches. Mary asks if they could meet after church which George responds with a, "no, we can not meet after church". There is an awkward pause before Mary asks Georgie. Georgie tells his mother, "I have to study my playbook." before looking to his father for approval. George nods at his son, while Y/N looks down at her food with a sad expression, wishing that Georgie would have gone with them. "I have to practice my cheer performance, but I can do that after church. It would be nice to go back," Y/N tells her godmother, which puts a big smile on Mary's face and a frown on Georgie's. Sheldon also decides to go with Mary. Y/N's face grew a wide smile hearing that Sheldon was going. "Oh! Cheer practice can wait! Sheldon at church will be more fun than any cheer performance! I can just see it now. Sheldon and science versus Pastor Jeff and God." Y/N jokingly says while laughing. Missy brings the conversation back to Sheldon by asking why he's going to church when he doesn't even like church. "No, but I believe in mom," Sheldon said putting a big smile on Mary's face.

When Mary asked Missy if she was going, Missy tried to get out of it, but as I said she tried. "Son of a bitch.", Missy says under her breath. Mary flicks Missy's head and Georgie laughs. George smacks Georgie's head and Y/N laughs.

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Y/N's Pov

Mary, Sheldon, Missy, and I were all in our church clothing, sitting in a pew. The church was full. Everyone except for Sheldon sang Onward Christian Soldiers. Sheldon whispers something to Mary, that I couldn't hear.

Pastor Jeff starts the sermon and Sheldon is still asking Mary questions. "Do you have evil thoughts?" Sheldon whispers to his mother. Mary shh's him but he still keeps going, "I just don't think this part applies to me". "That's fine, be quiet and listen," Sheldon says something else about puberty, causing an older woman to turn towards the boy and his mother. When the woman turns back toward the Pastor, Sheldon asked Missy and me if we had evil thoughts. I respond with a "Not really" but Missy said the opposite, " I'm having one right now". When Sheldon asks what it was, Missy said that she was going to kick him where the sun doesn't shine when we got home. Sheldon tells missy that his balls haven't dropped yet and then asked his mom when his balls would drop. The older lady turns back towards the family and Mary threatens the woman.

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We get back from church and Sheldon instantly goes for the student handbook. I pass Mary and Sheldon to go change. I go into Georgie's room after I change. Georgie is in his normal wear, a t-shirt, and jeans, reading his 'Sports Illustrated' magazine. "You know you have no chance with any of those girls in that magazine, right", I say leaning against Georgie's door frame. Georgie instantly looks up at me and says, "You look good. Maybe more than those girls in my magazine." I'm wearing a black jean skirt, with a nirvana shirt tucked in and a black and white striped long sleeve shirt under it.

Georgie and I laugh at his comment and walk over to his bed. "So, how was church?" Georgie asked while going back to reading his magazine. "It was ok. Your mom almost beat up an old lady for calling Sheldon weird, after he talked about his balls dropping. Other than that, it was like any regular church day." I tell Georgie. "So!", Getting Georgie's attention, "How was your playbook?" I ask Georgie knowing he was lying. Georgie looks at me then back at his magazine. "You know that was not the main reason I didn't go to church. I'm not as invested in church as much as you are, so don't give me that look." Georgie says knowing I was going to get onto him for lying to his mother. I dropped that conversation, and we went downstairs to watch tv and talk.

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When I get downstairs, I see George and Georgie talking, so I walk over to them. On my way there, Mary stops me and asked me if I've to saw Sheldon's bowtie. I shake my head no and continue walking. When I get to the table where the boys are talking, they are talking about football. Mary comes up and asks if the boys have seen Sheldon's bowtie. George tells Mary, "Leave it alone Mary, he doesn't need a damn bowtie." Mary argues back, "It's his first day of school, let him wear what he wants." Sheldon yells down the stairs that he still can't find his bowtie. "Oh dear lord, why's he gotta wear a bowtie?" Mary says walking away.

"Can Y/N and I ride in with you", Georgie asked his father. I sit there eating my breakfast quietly, before looking up when hearing my name. George contemplates the situation, then says "sure". "Everybody's gonna know he's your brother. You can't hide. It's gonna be awful for you." I didn't even know Missy was at the table before she said something. "Tell her to shut up." Georgie defensively tells his father. Georgie tells his son, "She's not wrong" earning a light slap on the arm from me. George mumbles sorry and goes back to his coffee.

We're all eating when Mary storms into the kitchen. "George Junior, give me back that bowtie right now!" She yells. "I didn't take it!" "Don't you lie to me!" "I'm not lying!" "We'll see about that!" The pair go back and forth. When Mary walks back upstairs, he yells for his mother to stay out of his room. Missy smiles and says, "She's gonna find your dirty magazines." "Shut up." "You are not having a good day." I shake my head at Georgie, agreeing with Missy.

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Georgie and I are sitting in homeroom when we see Sheldon walk in. Sheldon calls out, "My father's a football coach, my adoptive sister's a cheerleader, and my brother's a football player!" When Sheldon sees us he yells out, "Oh, 2/3 of them are over there! Hi, Y/N! Hi, Georgie!" Georgie and I put our heads down in embarrassment.

Ms. Macelroy introduces herself and the class. She makes a joke about having some of our family members in her class, which causes a few students to chuckle. She introduces Sheldon and Sheldon raises his hand. When the teacher calls on Sheldon, we hear Sheldon tell Ms. Macelroy who is breaking the dress code. Georgie and I sink in our chair lower and lower as Sheldon keeps talking. She dismisses Sheldon, but he puts his hand up again. Sheldon tells his teacher that she is also breaking the dress code because she has a mustache. Georgie and I sink as low as we can in our chair while the rest of the class laughs.

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Georgie and I are on the football field but on opposite sides. I am with the cheerleaders practicing my moves, and Georgie is with the football players practicing blocking drills. I knew Georgie was having a hard time with starting school with his younger brother, so I kept my eye on him. When I see the fight between him and Albert Stinson, I excuse myself from my squad and follow Georgie to the boy's locker room.

I walk in to see Georgie angrily tearing off his equipment. When he accidentally throws something at me, I quickly dodge it. "You know, if you threw like that on the football field this year, we would win playoffs for sure," I say jokingly getting Georgies attention. "What are you doing here? This is the boy's locker room." "I don't care if the whole team was in here naked, I would do anything to help my best friend when he is down." Georgie sits down next to me. George is watching the whole thing play out. "Do you remember when I was 5, and I missed my parents so much that I had that tantrum?" Georgie nods his head. "You were there for me when I needed you, now it's my time. I've seen how upset Sheldon going to school with us has made you. You have held in your emotions for too long. I know you get jealous when Sheldon gets special treatment. I want you to know that you are not the only one. Missy and I feel that way sometimes, but I have you. I don't need anyone to but you to make me feel special. I guess what I am saying is..." Georgie looks up at me, and I take Georgie into a side hug, "When you feel emotional don't take it out on your team. You have me. Talk to me. We are always together and I don't want to see you tear your life apart over something stupid like going to school with Sheldon."

George comes from behind the locker and tells me to go back to practice. I let go of Georgie and give him a sad look before doing as George instructed.

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

We get home, and George stops me at the door. "Thanks. You stopped your practice to help out Georgie. I appreciate that.", George tells Y/N sincerely. "Georgie is my best friend. Now, if he managed to hit me, that conversation would have gone a whole other direction." I say jokingly. George chuckles and lets me go.

I go up to Georgie's room. Georgie looked like he was in a better mood. I went in and talked with Georgie until time for dinner.

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

Narrator's Pov

The whole family gathers around the table to eat, but first, pray. When it's time to pray Sheldon surprisingly doesn't wear one of his gloves. No surprise when it wasn't the hand Georgie held.

Later that night everyone was sleeping peacefully, except for Y/N who would find laying right next to Georgie, like they have been for the past 11 years when someone was upset.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

i know you write a lot of dazai so you don’t have to follow through with this- but dazai x reader scenario, line 9, and if you need any details perhaps the reader is being made uncomfortable and harassed by some random ass guy and dazai needs to step in since the asshole won’t take no for an answer >:(

| Dazai x Reader|  Line 9- I won’t ever leave your side, promise.

Hope you enjoy it! 

Words- 863

Today’s sun was raining down on the streets of Yokohama. It was one of the many hotter days of the summer season; Flowers in full bloom, people busy trying to find shade to walk in, others sitting with friends as they swallowed licks of ice cream. School children were laughing with others on the short break. For you, today was a nice trip to a cafe, a small, yet rare occasion. Sipping the cold beverage in your hands, you watched the people coming and going. Dazai had texted you, he'd join you soon. How soon was always an unpredictable feat. Perhaps, you’d grow tired of waiting and watching those with normal lives hurry about without a care in the world. The ability-less who worried only about love and finding a stable income to support their loved one. You sometimes thought about what it would be like in their world. A world away from the chaos of abilities. 

The creak of your booth's bench snapped your head from the thoughts that laid on the questionable side of life’s decisions. Looking over to the man you gave a half-hearted smile. “Can I help you?” you asked sweetly but did not look to them any more than needed.

When there was no reply, you looked back out to the busy streets. People flocked around and walked in and out of the street stores. The good side of town was always like this, busy and amusing to watch. “You're a perfect little thing.” the male’s voice whispered sending shivers down your spine. Without glancing back at the revolting being you calmly stated a few well-placed words.

“Thank you for the generous compliment, but I have to ask you to leave my table. See, I have somebody I call a significant other already.” taking another sip from your now half-empty glass, you continued your observation of the busy street. Your eyes kept watching for locks of messy coffee-colored locks. 

Your words appeared to have no visible effect but aggravation with your pursuer. His body itching disturbingly close to yours. Your own aggravation softly boiled up as he touched your arm. Disgusted, you turned with a glare only for him to speak first. “Who said they had to know?” revolted with this man, you held your chin high in an act of defense; Appearing snotty and confident, you set your drink down. 

With a dark voice, you spoke words of anger. “Do you not understand the meaning of my words? No, is a no, so leave me be.” with a frown the man continued to pester you. The closer he got the less confidence and dominance you could produce. There were other people around, yet none seemed to turn an eye to your situation. It was normal for people to notice things like this but ignore them. 

At some point, he got close enough to back you into the booth's corner. Pushed against the wall, your heart skipped around its rhythm. An unsteady, unwelcomed fear gripping at it. Reaching to shove the male back, those arms were pushed down. “Come on just a little fun?” the onlookers had to think you had something. Why else would they turn blind eyes to this behavior? This was a cafe, the booth you sat at was shadowed from the other seats well. Hidden in the corner, only the tables besides yours would have a good view of what was going on. To your luck they were empty. Before this man could go any further, he was torn away, harshly tossed to the marble flooring with a thud.

The distraction of the past few minutes seemed to have prevented you from noticing the brunette approaching. Dazai snarled, placing a foot on the man's chest. “I believe she said no.” holding his head high, he gave one last kick to the male's side. Eyes were on him, but he didn’t seem to mind. Once upon a time, he’d have done worse than simply give the man a scare. 

Looking to your frightened pose stuck against the wall, Dazai bowed to you with a gentle voice you mumbled. “Thanks, you got here just in time as usual. You’re always by me when I need you.” He slid into the seat across from you. 

Grabbing your hand with his delicate fingers, he traced the lines of your palm. “I won’t ever leave your side, promise.” The words he spoke were simple, but they held more meaning than a small promise; His voice meant to reassure you. There would never be a moment where you had to fear he wouldn’t show up; He’d always find a way to your side. "Now, may I ask for a double suicide?"

A light laugh trickled from your lips as you leaned across the table. Your hand lifted to his forehead, softly flicking him. "Will you ask me this daily Osamu?" with a nod he smiled taking your hand and placing it to his chest. "Then, one day I'll join you. For now, let's enjoy the setting of Yokohama" His eyes lit with surprise as he chuckled lightly.

"How kind of you," he whispered, kissing the back of your hand.

[the-silentium]

Quits

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 2200 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, violence, blood, swearing.

Requested by: Anon!

Hi!! Can i get a five x reader where the reader gets shot or stabbed or something but doesnt tell anyone and ends up passing out? Thanks!!

A/N: I’m back at my requests! Thank you Anon for this sweet lil’ idea and I hope it lives up to your expectations as it does with mine  ❤ Requests are still open!

You remember a time when you took pride in your capacity to make the right choice at the right time. When school asked you what you wanted to do in life, you chose the right one from the start unlike the majority of your friends who had to change classes multiple times and were now a happy veterinarian. When life put on your path the incarnation of your perfect partner, you decided to take it slow to see where it went. Fortunately for you, you quickly saw through his facade and kicked him out before he could create more permanent damage to your heart. 

Your life was full of important decisions that were though at the time. Sometimes you had to take some days to think about it when other times it took you hours. They were all risky shots that could end up badly for you in the end so you liked to take your time to think about it. 

This is why when Five Hargreeves, your childhood closest friend, knocked at your door one day and asked for your help to stop the fast-arriving apocalypse, you didn't think twice and immediately accepted. How could you make the bad choice by helping him save the world? If he failed you would die, he would die, everyone would die and this is obviously the bad end of the story, right?

Well, as of right now, you were starting to doubt it. After failing to stop 2019's apocalypse and after Five had time-traveled every living Hargreeves plus yourself in the 1960s, you found yourself in two precarious situations: one, you were back in your 13-year-old self and two, you were not fighting two crazy hard-ass Commissioners, but three crazy hard-ass IKEA mafioso! 

It was a miracle that you survived the raid on the Hargreeves Mansion unscathed. You had thanked your luck for allowing you to live another day, although you regret ever doing so. Clearly, you had jinxed yourself, for surviving the Swedes ambush at the Mexican consulate wasn't as painless as the raid. 

A very well-sharpened knife had managed to pierce your skin, getting in your abdomen all the way to the hilt before you managed to kick the white-haired man down a nice flight of stairs. Your medical instinct pushed you to hastily insert some absorbent tissue into your wound to control the bleed and allow you to check it later. 

Sadly, one thing led to another and you were now sitting with all six Hargreeves who were currently trying to formulate a plan of some sort while Diego was focussed on his JFK conspiracy and you were literally bleeding out. 

The once pristine washcloth you had stolen in the kitchen was completely soaked, staining your blue shirt with dark red spots. Speaking of spots, hundreds of tiny black ones were now dancing in your line of sight like dark fireflies. 

"Has anyone here done anything to screw up the timeline?" 

You lifted your hand hoping to get the attention of the others, obviously working when Luther asked what you'd done. 

"Anything yet, but would it screw the timeline if I died here?" 

You saw Five frowns in confusion, his mouth opening on a question before yelling your name when you couldn't hold yourself up anymore and fell to the ground. Strong arms lifted you from the floor and you landed on a comfy cloud. You smiled in contentment, it has been a while since you had a proper night of sleep. This cloud will be perfect for a nap. 

Tiny slaps on your left cheek forced your eyes to open and meet a concerned blue gaze. 

"So pretty." You mumbled, still focussing on the blue eyes frantically scanning your face. 

Oh did I mentioned earlier that you had a crush on Five? Because you do and it is not small if after 15 years your heart still accelerates when you merely meet his gaze. 

"Don't sleep okay? Keep your eyes open!" You laughed at his command, it is the same thing you told him the day he lost consciousness at Leonard's cabin. You had a snarky remark at the tip of your tongue but it died on your lips when darkness forced its way upon you. 

………………………

Even before your mind was operational enough to create thoughts, your brain was already running full speed and relentlessly reminded you that your abdomen was on fire. The pain was a great ally into your mission to wake up and open your eyes. Maybe you would be able to ask for some painkillers. 

The harsh neon light shining over your head made you tear up the second your eyes opened to assess your environment. You tried again, slower this time, and found yourself confused by your surroundings. 

Many times in your childhood you had passed time in this room, planning pranks, doing homework, reading, or just hanging out. Nothing had changed excepted the walls that were now covered in equations and names. 

Groggily, you attempted to seat up, your abdominal muscles screamed in agony at your movements forcing you to stay on your back. The groan that erupted from your throat alarmed a passer-by who raced to the door, opening it so fast that it collided with the wall. 

"She's awake!" Klaus shouted in the corridor when he saw your wide-open eyes. He only had time to put a foot into the bedroom that a blue light appeared out of nowhere announcing Five's arrival. Your heart was beating too quickly by the time Five had pushed Klaus out of his room and slammed the door shut behind him. 

“What were you thinking?!” Five's anger caused you to frown. What did you do? You searched your mind for an answer and quickly found one in the vivid memory of a knife diving into your flesh. 

You opened your mouth to talk your mind but nothing came out of the desert that was your throat. Noticing your problem, Five caught a water bottle from his nightstand, cautiously brought it to your lips, and let you drink small sips of the freshwater. Satisfied, you coughed once to prepare your throat. 

“Now you know how it felt so we are quits.” You answered, referring to the time in Leonard’s cabin where you felt like the world had stopped when Five lost consciousness. You took care of him as best as you could despite your field of expertise being animals you had a basic understanding of the human anatomy, so with your trembling hands covered in his blood while desperately trying to not notice how much there was, you worked as effectively as you could to keep the love of your life alive. 

"This is not a game! You could have died!" You would have believed his angry eyes if only his hands weren't shaking so much. You were friend with Five for long enough to know how to read his temper and now, he was scared. 

"But I didn't." You tried to calm him down with your calm voice. You remember jumping at his neck the second he woke up that time he passed out, why couldn't he do the same instead of yelling at you? 

You watched him open his mouth a couple of times before closing it, clearly thinking through what he was going to say. When he finally chose, his voice was barely audible. "Selfish." 

You blinked in confusion at his statement. "Me? Selfish?" With each word now, your voice was raising until you reached the point where you were yelling at the blue-eyed 30 years old man. "Everything I did was to save the damn world from the apocalypse and you call me selfish?! I took a fucking knife to the gut and dealt with it for the sake of the world and you call me self-" 

"I wasn't talking about you." Now this stopped you good. You frowned in confusion, not seeing where he was going. "I was talking about me." 

Your head tilted to the side, searching your brain as to why Five would call himself selfish. All he did was for his family, he never acted for himself, so why?

"I almost let everything down to make sure you made it back alive. I almost let the world end for you because I can't imagine living another 45 years where you're not there." His words were soft, a tone that you weren't aware was used exclusively around you. His gaze fled yours, switching between the scribbles on the walls and the foot of the bed. 

Color rushed to your face for his words definitely sounded like a confession to your ears. Your childhood self had waited for so long to hear something of the type, so long that you thought the friendzone was the ultimate area that you would be welcome in. You accepted that your feelings were strong enough to be pleased by his happiness even with someone else. 

A smile formed on your lips causing Five's heart to miss a beat in its rhythmic pumping. "I-"

"Guys they are doing it!" Klaus' loud voice on the other side of the door cut you off. 

"Doing what?" Allison had joined her brother at the door, confused of his antics. 

"Admitting their undying love for each other!" At this point Five had opened the door swiftly, his murderous gaze fell on his siblings, daring them to say something more. It was at this moment that Klaus realized how scary his brother was in reality, he wasn't the little Number Five anymore, but a grown-up man who could easily murder him in a thousand ways possible. 

"Oh heck no!" The words fell off your mouth against your will, the embarrassing situation making you nervous so your brain tried to defuse the situation by stating the opposite of what Klaus wanted. From your point of view, you totally missed the way Five's eyes lost their deadly rage, instead showing his pain at your words. He was quick to hide his feelings once more, but his siblings had enough time to acknowledge his true emotion. 

Slapping Klaus behind the head, Allison got a hold of his shirt and pulled him away to let the two of you clear this out. Everyone knew you two were pinning each other when you were younger. Even when fighting the two apocalypses! It was clear as day for the rest of the family, however, it wasn't the case for the both of you. 

The door slammed back in place once more making you jump and hiss in pain when your abdominal muscles contracted. In your field of vision, you noted that Five had tensed before closing his hands in tight fists and made his way to his desk, the only place in the room you couldn't see because of your incapacity to turn around. 

You knew what you said must have hurt him, it clearly seemed like you had rejected him. Stupid defense method. 

"Five?" No answer was given, his heavy breathing being the only sound resonating in the room. "I didn't mean that." A scoff fell off his lips. 

"You think I'll believe that?" The venom in his voice told you just how much you had hurt him, squeezing your heart in shame. 

"When you disappeared 15 years ago I developed a system to protect myself from new heartbreaks. It hurt way less to force myself to believe that my feelings for you were nonexistent than acknowledge them and continue living without you, Five." Water appeared in your eyes, pooled down your cheeks, and soaked your new shirt. "I was so used to deny my feelings that-" Your voice broke when a sob forced its way out of you. 

Hands found your cheeks, drying the wet trails before pulling you into a firm chest. You managed to slip your hands around his waist and cried for as long as needed. The exhaustion of the last endless days caught up to you along with the fact that the subject of your love was very well alive and here to stay, fueling the flow of tears falling down your eyes. 

"I really didn't mean it." You managed to croak out between sobs. 

One of Five's hand went to your hair, stroking your head tenderly. "I know." Your grip onto his shirt tightened when a kiss landed on the top of your head. 

Slowly, he pulled away to lay you back down onto his bed and snuggled to your side when your anxious eyes found his. One of his arms went under your head while the other took care to not accidentally touch the general area surrounding your wound when snaking around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible. 

His body heat was very much welcome, you snuggled your way into the crook of his neck in search of comfort. 

"Rest. I'll be there when you wake up." He whispered into your hair when his button-down crumpled in your hands. 

You sighed, allowing yourself to relax in his embrace. "I love you Five." You had to get it out before you let yourself fall asleep for you were scared that later would be too late. 

"I love you too." Delicate patterns were traced by his skilled fingers onto the bare skin of your waist making you shiver. Your heartbeat accelerated at his chuckle before stabilizing when you fell into a peaceful slumber.

[brucespringsteendotcom]

wrt college and struggling.... when I was in college I felt like a total fraud. I too had excelled at school my whole life and then college smacked me upside the head. I'd do assignments the night before constantly. best example of this was when I started a 10 page research paper at 10pm the night before it was due at 8am the next day and somehow managed to collect resources and write the full paper by 6am. somehow I got an 86% on that paper....i don't recommend trying that but sometimes you gotta deal with the situation you're in.

throughout college I felt like i was behind and was having regular panic attacks. but honest to god listen to me when I tell you to talk to your professors!!! tell them you're having issues! all of mine were great and would push deadlines for me and help me during office hours and etc. they are way more understanding and flexible than most teachers I'd had earlier in life.

one more thing, fake it till you make it. hardest class I ever took kicked my ass but I kept faking like I knew what I was doing and ended up getting the highest score on one of the assignments. because sometimes that's how you figure it out. now I look back and thats the most useful class I ever took. college is SO hard and I can completely empathize with you.

I encourage you to talk to professors, make friends in your classes so you can help each other with material, and keep trying your best. you've got this and I believe in you <3 I'm sorry for how long-winded this was...no idea if this is helpful to you or not at all. just trying to share some wisdom. I hope you find ways that make your experience as smooth as possible. good luck!!

umm what if i cried...........this is really helpful and encouraging tysm 😭

[def-initely-soul]

house rules {1}

pairing: jimin x reader (f.)

genre: fluff; angst; roommates au; kinda new girl au; smut; f2l au

rating: explicit

warnings: sexual content; mention of emotional abuse; mention of manipulative relationship; mention of body issues; explicit smut

words: 26.3k

summary:

↠ {living with two guys has always its pros and cons. Pros being someone will always get you popcorn for your midnight cravings. Cons being you might like one of them…?} ↞

or alternatively, the shenanigans of five friends, where two of them are in a loving relationship, one is Kim Seokjin and the other two don’t know what the fuck they’re doing

.

.

The clock on the other side of the wall keeps ticking, each second driving you closer to madness over the insistent sound.

You click your pen open and closed. Open and closed. Open and closed.

And yet you still have no freaking clue on how to begin this godawful novel.

Godawful as in the mere effort it takes for it to come to life is starting to make you want to flick yourself off from a window.

Like, god, you’ve been staring at an empty piece of paper for almost two hours now, your coffee’s gone cold.

And yeah you write in paper. No laptop, no typewriter, just you, your pen and a currently empty piece of paper. It seems more direct, more intimate this way. Put you in front of a blank screen and your brain will surely follow it.

Although, today it doesn’t seem like you have much luck with paper either.

With a tired sigh, you rest your mighty pen on your desk, taking out your noise-cancelling earbuds and stand up from your chair.

You stretch out your limbs, your back already killing you from hunching over your desk for two hours now and you trudge over to the living room where the rest of your friends are having a movie night.

“Guys, the old crone decided to join us…” Hoseok comments from his side of the small couch as you drag your feet to your designated spot beside Jimin on the big couch.

“Quick, hide your popcorn, and hide your jelly beans!” Seokjin joins in on the mocking as Jimin scans through Netflix for a decent movie none of you has seen yet.

You know you’ll end up watching Dirty Dancing again because the chances of finding a movie none of you has seen yet are nearly non-existent.

 “Ha, ha, your superior sense of humour is astounding…” you mumble as you sit cross-legged on the couch and Ana turns to you from her spot next to Hoseok.

“No luck with the novel still huh?” her eyes are looking at you sympathetically and you grumble a response, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, it’ll come to you eventually,” Seokjin says, stretching his hand from his armchair to your right to nudge your knee and you let a deep breath infiltrate your lungs once he retracts it.

Jimin gives you a side glance before his eyes return to the screen. “Yeah, until she gets a different idea and the cycle repeats itself.”

“Hey!” you lightly punch your best friend in the ribs, earning a groan from him, “I just have to find a way to start this bloody thing and then it’ll turn out to be the greatest book in the century, you’ll see!” you defend your cause, eyes wide and challenging on Jimin who simply smiles at you with a winning smirk.

“That’s more like it…” he replies, the glint in his eyes your only hint giving away the intention behind his words and again you groan. Refusing to let the smile on your lips appear.

“I hate you when you do that…” you mumble, a small note of fondness only Jimin can distinguish, hiding in your voice as he finally picks his choice of a film with a smile hanging from his lips.

“Shh, the movie’s starting!” Ana interrupts everyone when -surprise surprise- Dirty Dancing starts playing. All of you have a certain liking towards the movie- I mean what’s not to like? Summer romance? Patrick Swayze with half-open shirts? Heated dancing? With Patrick Swayze?- but you can say for certain Ana takes the cake as a Dirty Dancing fan.

“How can you still be this much excited for this movie?” Hoseok comments from beside her and even though he sounds judgey there’s only lovesick fondness in his eyes when he looks at Ana.

Although when Ana turns to look at her boyfriend, she looks completely serious. “Keep this up and no sex for a month. We don’t condone this kind of behaviour in this house.”

You and Jimin try to suppress your giggles as Hoseok’s eyes widen in fear. “You can’t do that, what about you?!”

Ana simply smiles back with too much sweetness. “My hands aren’t just good for making you cum, babe.”

Disgusted protests come from the rest of the group as you’re sure you won’t ever be able to unhear this.

“Why, why did we have to hear that?” Jimin complains as Seokjin makes a gagging sound next to him.

Hoseok just smiles. “Oh, come on Jimin, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy tapping this hot piece of ass!” and another round of puking sounds emerges in the room.

Truth is Ana didn’t date Hoseok in the beginning. In reality, she got added to your group only after she started going out with Jimin in the second year of college. And even though she and Jimin didn’t work out in the end, she had already become an essential part of your group and they even remained great friends after the breakup.

Not long after that Hoseok asked her out. And you swear no couple ever made more sense than those two. Although you really hate when they get down and dirty in Hoseok’s room which is right next to yours.

You first started living with Hoseok and Jimin in the first year of college, five years ago. Jimin was a guy you barely knew from high school but he was the greatest of options you had when looking to share an apartment with someone. You didn’t want to live in a dorm but it wasn’t like your parents were rich or something, so there was no way for them to afford an apartment just for you. So looking for a roommate was the best solution.

Hoseok came a little bit afterwards. You and he shared a class and you became friends fairly quickly. So when he told you the situation at his dorm was unbearable, you couldn’t help but think of the empty bedroom in your apartment. And the rest is history.

Seokjin became a part of your group only months before Ana did. He and Jimin worked at the same part-time job as waiters in a local restaurant. And while Seokjin went forward to run his own restaurant and Jimin followed his passion as a dance instructor their friendship persevered. So it wasn’t long before he joined your group.

And it wasn’t long before you got this stupid crush on him.

Not that it matters anyway. He doesn’t know and you don’t plan on ever telling him to be honest. You know how easily things could go wrong and you’re fine with simply being his friend.

“Okay, babe, that’s enough for now…” Ana quiets down her boyfriend with a small kiss on his lips and finally pipes down to focus on Patrick Swayze’s biceps.

Your eyes rest on the screen as another exhausted sigh escapes you. This novel is your chance of having something of yours published. What if you can’t make it in time? What if it’s shit? What if you finally realize after all this time that being a writer was never what you were supposed to be and all those years believing that were in vain? What if-?

Your thoughts get interrupted when you feel a palm laying across your knee and squeezing it gently.

The fog in your head clears a bit when you find Jimin looking at you with a soft smile. One that tells you not to worry. Jimin could always read you like a book so it’s no surprise he could sense you spiralling.

And it’s not a surprise that with a single look he can calm down your racing thoughts.

He’s one of your closest friends after all.

.

.

“Hoseok you can’t keep using Ana’s departure as an excuse to not help with cleaning up!” you yell towards the couple saying goodbye at the front door, while Seokjin giggles as he dries out some of your plates.

“Shut up, you heathen, this is true love we’re talking about! Also, I can and I will!” your roommate yells back and you roll your eyes. On the other side of the room, Jimin picks up several empty beer cans as Ana kisses her boyfriend.

“Go on, babe, before they drive a stick through your ass,” she chuckles.

Hoseok pouts, the gesture almost etched to his features by now. “Oh, and you haven’t even done it that thing you wanted yet!”

“Again keep your weird sexual life out of this god-respected household,” Jimin comments and at once everyone turns to stare at him confused.

He stares back before, “Okay, yeah, I just heard it…” then he proceeds to take the trash out.

Ana chuckles before pressing another kiss on Hoseok’s lips. “Okay, I’m off. Bye guys!” to which you all respond with a chorus of “byes”.

Hoseok closes the door with a dreamy sigh before trekking over to the kitchen island to watch as you and Seokjin clean up. “Is it weird that I miss her already?”

Seokjin coos at the same time you react too. Although your reaction comes closer to a gagging sound and now both of them look at you like you just kicked a puppy.

You clear your throat, “oh, I- I meant… ''awww”...” you reply quickly, avoiding their stares to clean up the rest of the plates.

“Don’t mind her Hobi, she's just jealous,” Seokjin comments as he rests his towel on his shoulder.

At that, you scoff. You’re not jealous! You just hate corny things!

“Jealous? Pff. Who says they miss someone right after they leave? That’s just cheesy! I mean, yeah, you and Ana are perfect for each other, you’re cute together and you complete each other, and there’s intimacy and feelings and mutual respect…” your voice becomes sadder at the end and ultimately fades out, leaving you staring at the floor.

Where were you going with this?

The guys look at you with knowing glances and you groan out loud.

“Oh, shut your faces. I’m not jealous!” “Who’s not jealous?” Jimin asks once he’s back into the apartment.

“Y/N, of our relationship,” Hoseok’s quick to respond.

“Yours and mine?” Jimin queries.

Hoseok rolls his eyes but he responds in all seriousness “No, Ana’s and mine.”

Jimin just shrugs. “Makes more sense.”

Your eyes narrow and you scoff. “No, it doesn’t because I’m not jealous!”

Seokjin places his palm on your shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find someone someday to be grumpy with.”

You pick his hand and drop it off your shoulder. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Besides I got my novel to write, I don’t have time for a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’d marry rich if I was expecting anything of that novel!” Hoseok comments with a laugh but everyone freezes, including you. Is that what he really thinks? That you’re not gonna make it?

All of you turn to look at him, but Hoseok remains oblivious of your stares for a few moments. But when he realizes you’re all looking at him, he looks confused.

“What?” he asks, visibly perplexed.

Jimin’s eyes widen, disbelief in his voice. “Dude!”

Hoseok shrugs though his eyes widen in almost fear. “It was a joke!” his voice is one pitch higher as slight traces of panic are evident in his words. When no one responds, he turns to you, desperation and honesty in his eyes. “Y/N, really, it was just a joke.”

You stare for a moment too long, before you nod, giving him a smile to spare him from his misery, deciding to not let such a simple comment affect you. “Yeah, yeah, I know, of course!”

“I didn’t mean any of that okay? It was a stupid joke!” Hoseok nearly screeches, regret in his words as he doesn’t seem at all convinced by your answer.

You force a laugh to calm him down.

“Hobi, I’m fine! Don’t worry too much,” you smile at him, patting him on the back and moving to put the plates Seokjin dried out to their respective cabinets.

He still doesn’t seem convinced and he’s ready to pester you some more before Seokjin intervenes, sensing you’re starting to feel uncomfortable with all the attention. “Anyways, Hoseok you said you wanted my opinion on something?”

Hoseok’s attention turns to Seokjin once he speaks up. “Ah yeah! Actually, my three-year anniversary with Ana is coming up and I’m all out of ideas,” he responds sheepishly as he rubs the base of his neck.

“Ehm, hello? I’m her best friend, why don’t you ask me?” you complain, putting your hands on your waist with one eyebrow cocked up.

“Y/N your most serious relationship lasted two months and it ended because you fought over which peanut butter spread is the best,” Hoseok raises an eyebrow at you as he and Seokjin walk over to the couch, trying to brainstorm ideas.

“I’m sorry but whoever thinks smooth is better than crunchy is simply not human,” the memory sends a shudder through you and you look at Jimin for confirmation and he’s quick to nod his head and agree.

“Oh, yeah, that relationship had no future after that,” he washes his hands at the sink as he looks over to Hoseok who simply giggles.

“Okay, yeah, I can give you that one. But you really have no idea of relationships, so I’m sorry but I’m not taking any suggestions,” he softens the blow with a flying kiss in your direction.

You scoff, indignant. “Rude. True but rude!” you admit as you finally place the last of the plates in its place. Hoseok and Seokjin are now deep in conversation, throwing one idea after the other and if he decides to go with any of these, you’re sure Ana will dump him before he gets the chance to utter “break up sex”.

Seeing as there’s nothing else left for you to do, you decide to head off to sleep, making a mental note to talk to Hoseok about his date ideas and salvage whatever you can.

“Okay, I’m going to bed, goodnight guys!” you wave them goodnight before turning to the hallway when Jimin comes towards you.

“I’ll walk with you,” he says, following you into the corridor.

You walk in silence, not that it’s weird or anything. You and Jimin have reached that point in a friendship where you don’t have to fill the silence to be comfortable around each other. You could be in the same room, doing completely different things, not talking at all, and still, you wouldn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

Once you reach both of your rooms, as they are right across from one another, you ready to say goodnight when Jimin interrupts you.

“Ah, wait…” he stops you just as you reach for your doorknob and you turn around. “What is it?”

He sighs before, “look, I know you know Hoseok didn’t mean any of that but I also know words tend to get into your head…” he begins, voice gentle and eyes cautious on you as you fidget on your spot uncomfortably.

“And I just want to say-”

“What?” you cut him off with a tired sigh, “everything will turn out okay? That suddenly I’m gonna be blessed with divine inspiration when I least expect it?” you give him a weak smile, crossing your hands on your chest.

What you don’t expect is Jimin to laugh. “No, no, all of that is just a pile of crap!” he chuckles and you can’t help but laugh along with him.

“I wanted to say that whatever goes through that little mind of yours shouldn’t keep you from writing. That’s what you do, you write! And, yeah, some of it may come out as complete bullshit, but that’s just how it has to go before you get better,” he says simply, voice filled to the brim with honesty and you rest your eyes at your feet, suddenly feeling very self-aware.

“Because I know you’re gonna get better. You just need a push,” he finally smiles softly at you, warmness spreading through your heart as if his smile is a portable heater, radiating warmth to the people closest to it.

“Thanks…” you mumble back, letting your eyes find him to truly express how thankful you are.

You aren’t good with expressing your feelings, not when it’s not on top of a piece of paper. Everyone knows this, Jimin even more so. You know you don’t have to say anything for him to understand how you truly feel.

And so he smiles back and nods as if to say “you’re welcome”.

And for a few moments, you stay like that. Both of you leaning on your doors, staring at each other as another silence fills the corridor.

But this one is different. Still comfortable but there’s something else hanging in the air. It’s the way you look at each other, basking in each other’s presence, comfortable and not ready to say goodnight yet.

It’s the way Jimin’s looking at you. Smile slightly fading as his eyes remain on your face, ever serious, ever intense as if they’re saying something his lips can’t, something you can’t quite understand, something that makes you feel-

Jimin breaks the stuffed silence with a shake of his head. “Anyways, um… goodnight, Y/N…” he says, voice thick with something and his words seem to revive you as well as he opens the door to quickly go into his room.

“Ah, yeah, goodnight, Jimin,” you reply casually before you enter your bedroom and close the door behind you.

That felt… weird.

As much as you try to put a name to what you felt out there, you can’t. The situation felt too foreign, too much for your drunk mind to comprehend.

You shake your head, passing it off to the many beers you had and without giving it much of another thought you go to sleep.

.

.

Although, three weeks pass after that talk and you still can’t get it out of your mind.

You figured you would’ve forgotten about it by now, blaming it on the amount of alcohol you had consumed that night but no. Those last few moments before you parted in the middle of your hallway still linger in the crevices of your mind, not unlike a bunch of vultures scavenging for prey.

Even now, at Seokjin’s birthday party, it’s all you can think about instead of paying attention to the birthday boy himself and the subject of your affections. If he even knew you weren’t focusing on him on his own birthday party he would flip.

Did Jimin want to say something to you? It seemed so but since then he’s made no indication as to show he wants to talk to you. It’s been three weeks and there was no other talk of that weird conversation outside your bedrooms. No sign that it ever happened. You wonder what was going through his mind at that time. You wonder what he’s thinking about it now, if he even thinks about it still like you.

“Earth to Y/N! Hello?” a floating hand breaks your inner monologue, Ana looking at you with scrunched eyebrows and a glare to match. The two of you are currently alone amidst the crowd of partygoers as Ana dragged you aside to excitedly tell you about the amazing anniversary Hoseok had planned for them, last Saturday. You guess you lost focus somewhere in the middle.

“What?” your voice gets defensive and Ana’s glare seems more intimidating as seconds pass by.

“You stopped listening!” she slaps you lightly on the arm and a yelp comes out of your lips as a form of protest.

“I didn’t!” you try to defend your guilty self as you rub the afflicted spot.

“Yeah, no, I thought so at first “Y/N would never just stop listening” so I started casually throwing Seokjin’s name into the conversation, that always worked like a charm to get you to focus, but you still didn’t listen!” she retaliates and you shrink back in shame.

“Sorry…” you mumble in all honesty, biting your lip in embarrassment. “But I heard the most important parts!” you perk up, “And the whole concert then cooking at home date idea was really insightful and cute! And full disclosure, if I hadn’t interfered and let Hoseok listen to Seokjin, you would’ve ended up at a screening of cats!” you shake your finger at her and she giggles out loud.

“Although I gotta admit, Hoseok cleaned up really well on its own…” you smile at her and she nods with a dreamy sigh before taking a sip of her drink.

“Oh, and you have to thank me for stopping Hoseok from using his “free Hoseok love” coupon as a gift.”

Ana’s eyes widen in grave seriousness. “Oh, he did use that…”

You wince at that. “Oh god, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t fret too much about it, he also bought me that cute pair of boots I wanted!” she pats you on the back before she bites her lip as a child that’s about to get scolded, “~and… I also kind of enjoyed it…” she says with a wink and you roll your eyes at your friend.

“The leather ones that were really expensive?” she had rumbled over the course of a week about how she fell in love with those boots but their relationship would’ve never worked (in simpler words she couldn’t afford them).

She nods at you. “Marry him,” you respond with urgency and Ana laughs at you.

But as her giggles die down her face turns solemn once more.

“Are you okay though? It’s not like you to not pay attention, even more so when it’s about Seokjin…” she says with a chuckle at the end, yet her eyes remain cautious and you sigh.

“Yeah, it’s just that Jimin-”

“Y/N, wait… I’m sorry but you do realise that I was talking about Seokjin, right?” her stare is a bit weirded out, “and that we’re currently at his birthday party and you choose to hang out with me instead of talking to him?” she skillfully observes, making you feel uncomfortable at how her words trigger something you haven’t acknowledged before and you’re certainly not ready to do so now.

You shrug. “I guess I don’t know what to say…” you choose to say instead, hoping it’s enough of an excuse to get out of this conversation.

“What do you mean? You never had a problem with that before…” she counters, genuinely confused at your bizarre behaviour and you press your lips in a tight line as you shrug once more, not really knowing how to address that.

At your hesitation to breach the subject, something seems to click in Ana’s mind and she sighs in realization.

“Can I tell you what I think without you getting all grumpy and defensive?” she asks, eyes careful and hands in the air as if to pacify you. You shrug again, albeit a bit curious about what she has to say.

“I don’t think you really like Seokjin- ah, ah! Let me finish!” she shushes you when you begin protesting, “I mean not anymore, it was pretty obvious you were crazy into him when I first met you but now…” she takes a breath, eyes looking at you wearily as she prepares for the finishing blow, “now I think you cling into the idea of liking him because it’s comfortable. Because it’s easier to fall back into the safety net of liking someone and not doing anything about it than making yourself deal with the fear and uncertainty that comes with meeting someone new.”

Your cheeks flush as you stare at her, feeling vulnerable as if someone cut you open and went through your most inner thoughts, even when you feel like there’s something else that neither you nor she hasn’t been able to pinpoint.

Ana’s observation finally put what you’ve been feeling for a while into words. You haven’t realized it but the more you think about it, the more sense it makes.

And yet you still stubbornly act like it’s not the case at all.

“I… I’m not afraid to meet new people…” your protest is as weak as your voice and Ana looks at you unimpressed and thoroughly unconvinced.

“Really? Then you’ll have no problem talking to Seokjin’s friend from high school,” she points at the tall, blond hunk with the glasses and the cute dimples currently chatting with Seokjin.

“Namjoon?! Are you nuts?! He’s way out of my league!” you screech in panic. Namjoon is a sight to be held and in your opinion, people should pay to see him up close. Would that be considered a fucked up way of prostitution? You’re not sure.

Ana rolls her eyes. “First of all, “leagues” aren’t a thing and second of all, you’re totally scared boo!” she says plainly with a victorious grin and you flinch instinctively.

“I’m not! I just don’t have time for a relationship!” you say, still trying to get out of this conversation even though Ana doesn’t seem at all deterred.

“No one talked about a relationship, you baboon, it could be just sex. But, out of simple curiosity, how long has it been since you had sex? Seven, eight months?” she retaliates, in all ways but physical backing you up into a corner.

You groan, hiding your flaming face behind your hands.

“This is the perfect opportunity to hook up with someone and never having to talk to them again for the rest of your life. No strings attached, no awkward first dates, no phone calls. Just one night of drunken sex to get you to relax a bit and who knows? Maybe it’ll help you get your inspiration back,” she concludes with a tilt of her head. And the more you think about it, the more you realize she’s right about everything. About Seokjin, about using him as a distraction, about needing to relax and this being the perfect opportunity for it. It’s been a while since you’ve felt any sort of attraction for Seokjin. No excitement or accelerated heartbeat, no sweaty hands, no unbearable giddiness when he decides to throw a visit.

You guess somewhere along the way those feelings faded out, giving place to the love and comfort that comes out of a years-long friendship. You’re not attracted to him anymore.

And Ana’s suggestion does seem kind of appealing. You suppose some sex would help you get rid of all the nerves that come with writing a book.

And Namjoon is kinda hot. Okay, scratch “kinda”, “unbearably hot” is more fitting.

You just worry if he’ll able to surpass the last time you had sex. For some reason, you’re almost convinced he won’t.

“Okay, you’re right, I’ll do it,” at that Ana squeals and claps her hands happily.

“But I have to talk to Seokjin first,” you continue, resulting in a confused expression masking Ana’s face.

“What? Why?”

You shrug. “I spent those four years crushing on him, I feel like I need some kind of closure,” you chuckle and Ana stares at you dumbfounded before she shakes her head.

“Fine, do what you have to, but don’t take too long! Namjoon is like a walking modelling billboard, most of the people in this party have their eyes on him. Boy, if I wasn’t dating Hoseok would we be doing things right now…” she reveals as she stares at the man in question while biting her lip and you stare at her disapprovingly.

“What? I said if,” she says as if abdicating all blame and you shake your head at her with a laugh. Hoseok wouldn’t mind and to be honest they’d probably be talking about how to convince Namjoon for a threesome.

“Okay, I’m going, wish me luck,” you announce as you begin making your way towards Seokjin.

“What you need is alcohol, not luck,” Ana yells at you as she goes to find her boyfriend and you give her one last smile before turning your attention to the birthday boy.

Only now realizing what you’re about to do and, great, your hands are trembling. Maybe you did need some alcohol.

But it’s too late to make a run for it when Seokjin spots you and a smile graces his lips.

“Y/N! Come over here! You know Namjoon right?” he rushes to include you into the conversation, eyes wide with hidden meaning as he nudges you towards Namjoon and the man with the dimples smiles at you.

“Ah, yeah, we’ve met before. How are you?” you smile back at him and the longer he smiles, the deeper his dimples become and the more adorable he is.

“Can’t complain. How about you?” he chuckles, the sound almost illegal, as he pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Oh, right, he also has a deep and mellifluous voice. How is this man not famous for something?

“Pretty well I’d say. Um, do you mind if I steal the birthday boy for a bit? There’s something I need to talk to him about…” your hand is already dragging a confused Seokjin away, even if you’d rather be doing that to the other boy.

Namjoon blinks at you, as perplexed as Seokjin before “Ah, yeah, sure…”

“Thanks!” you yell over the music, although you’re sure the man mustn’t have heard you as you’re already making your way down the corridor towards the back of Seokjin’s apartment.

“Ugh, Y/N? What’s going on?” Seokjin’s voice is beyond weirded out as you finally reach his bedroom, that’s off-limits for the party. You push him in and close the door behind you.

“Sorry, I just needed some privacy for what I’m about to do…” you admit with shaking hands as Seokjin’s eyes widen in fear and confusion.

You take a breath before fixing your posture and stare bravely at the man in front of you. “This may come as a shock to you but I…” you take one final breath, “I used to like you-” you begin, dreading the moment Seokjin decides this is too odd for him.

“I know.”

Seokjin’s voice takes you by surprise as your mind processes the words that just left his mouth, a different kind of dread overwhelming you.

He knows?

“What? What do you mean you know?” your voice comes out offended, as Seokjin puts down his drink with a sigh and turns to look at you.

“I mean I know. You weren’t exactly subtle with the stares and all…” he comments calmly although your mouth falls open to join your feet at the ground at the absurdity of the situation.

He knows. All this time, he knew?!

“Well, why didn’t you say something?” you throw the words at him accusingly and he rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t want to embarrass you! I figured since you hadn’t said anything that you didn’t want to act on it so I never said anything either!” he defends himself, voice high-pitched in true Seokjin fashion.

“Oh my god, that’s so embarras- Wait,” you cut yourself when his words strike you as odd and another thought makes itself known in your mind. “You mean that if I had said something…?” you look at him weirdly and Seokjin sighs, eyes already confirming your suspicions.

“I might… not have said no to a date…” he admits, scratching his ears and your mouth drops open.

You could have dated the Kim Seokjin and you didn’t because you were too scared to make a move?

Wow, your past-self would be seriously pissed at you.

Seokjin rushed to explain. “But that was back then when I didn’t know you that well!”

You gasp at the offence, crossing your arms on your chest. “You mean now that you do know me, I'm not that dateable, Kim Seokjin?!”

He groans, rubbing a palm over his face. “I just meant that back then I was willing to risk our friendship because we weren’t that close in the first place! But now we’ve been friends for almost half a decade and even though you are extremely dateable” he says with a roll of his eyes but you’re still satisfied, “I just can’t see you in that way. And even if I did I wouldn’t be willing to risk our friendship over something like that,” he concludes with a sigh.

“Oh,” you reply simply, satisfied with his answer before you continue.

“Well, that’s good actually, because I just wanted to tell you that whatever those feelings were… they’re gone now. So I just… wanted to come clean I guess…” you admit softly, finally feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest.

“So, we’re okay?” Seokjin asks with hope and you smile, lightly punching his arm. You find yourself relieved after Seokjin’s confession and you know you’ll be fine.

“We’re okay,” you nod and Seokjin smiles back.

“That punch was lame,” he retorts and you gasp. “Do you want me to punch you for real, you masochist?”

His smile widens. “No, you freak of nature, I want a hug!”

Immediately, you begin protesting. “No, no, no, no, no. No hugs, you know this!” you begin moving away from him as he comes closer with a predatory grin. You absolutely hate hugs. They’re unnecessary long and intimate, you never know where to put your hands and you always end up having someone’s hair in your mouth.

Seokjin pouts as he nearly chases you into the hallway. “Come on, I just found out I’m not your crush anymore! Do you know how much of a hit is that to my ego!?” he says, standing in front of you, effectively blocking your way to freedom.

You sigh, already regretting, the words you’re about to say but seeing no other way out.

“Fine, but you have to promise me to not tell anyone! I have a reputation to upkeep!” you yield, shaking a threatening finger at him but his grin only grows bigger.

“Deal!” he squeals, eager to grasp this rare chance of affection from you, seeing as he has tried numerous times to get a hug from you but being unsuccessful. Till now that is.

His hands wrap around you in a soul and bone-crushing hug as your arms end up being squished between your bodies. You try to control the smile on your lips as you struggle to break your arms free and wrap them around his impossibly wide shoulders. Actually, this doesn’t feel so bad. It feels like being enveloped in a giant, fuzzy blanket. If that blanket had an unquenchable thirst for strawberry shortcakes.

A few moments pass before you begin to pull back. “Okay, you giant carebear, that’s enough,” you giggle as Seokjin retracts his hands.

“Now, wasn’t that refreshing?”

“If I let you know, I’ll have to kill you,” you mumble fixing your clothes and Seokjin’s trademark laugh echoes throughout the corridor, making your smile grow.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he throws you a cheeky wink.

You shake your head at him with a laugh before another thought crosses your mind and you bite your lip. “So… about Namjoon…”

Seokjin’s mind instantly follows your train of thought but he lets out a surprising -to say the least- groan. “Seriously?”

You find his reaction a bit too odd for your liking. “Why?”

“Uhm, you dragged me away to my bedroom at my own birthday party. He probably thinks we jumping uglies right now,” he fixes you with a disappointed stare. Fuck, you didn’t think of that.

You grunt in frustration. “Great, now what?”

Seokjin’s eyes glint when he comes up with yet another brilliant idea. “If we split we’ll find him faster!” he exclaims enthusiastically and your eyes widen.

“Genius thinking!” you declare before you sprint down the hallway, the both of you looking for Namjoon.

.

.

You would think it would be easy finding Namjoon in an apartment as small as Seokjin’s. But it’s not. It’s anything but.

When you finally do find him after almost 40 minutes looking for his perfect ass, it’s with his mouth stuck against another person’s neck so any hopes for a one-night-stand are going down the drain. So instead you resort to drinking the rest of Seokjin’s sparkling rosé collection until you have to pee your weight in alcohol.

You abandon the living room where the party is still going strong, in search of the holy grail that is Seokjin’s bathroom right now, hoping you get to relieve your misery.

But as you approach the door, you fail to register the voices coming from inside. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to live through the impending embarrassment.

Instead, you bust the door open in your haste to pee, but all of that goes to shit once you see Jimin inside the bathroom. Or, more precisely, Jimin’s mouth sucking on the pulse of some blonde’s girl neck -who feels oddly familiar- like he’s a fucking vampire.

Your eyes widen, meeting with fear Jimin’s livid ones before “OhmygodImsorrypretendthisneverhappened!” you yell in one breath, anxious to get out of there as fast as possible and before Jimin gets the chance to curse at you, you close the door and disappear down the hallway.

Ugh, oh my god, why are you so awkward?

You rub your hands on your face as you walk down the corridor, wondering where you’re supposed to pee now. Couldn’t they bone at Seokjin’s room? 

Though, among your thoughts emerges one particular one that makes you stop dead in your tracks as you finally realize why that girl seemed familiar.

She wasn’t just some random girl. No, she was a very specific blonde girl, one that happens to be the pure personification of evil on the face of the earth, one that you’re sure hides horns beneath that perfect hair.

Jimin’s ex, the girl who manipulated and abused him repeatedly, the girl who broke up with him nearly a year ago to be with someone else, after he caught her cheating. The girl who broke his heart.

Dinah.

Fuck.

.

.

You remember the first time you met Dinah, although she hadn’t left any particular impression on you. She was a high school friend of Taehyung, with whom Seokjin shared some classes with and were kinda close. It was your fourth year in college when Taehyung was still hanging with you guys before he found a job opportunity overseas and left. Now he texts every now and then or visits even more rarely.

Seokjin’s birthday party is one of those rare visits, hence why Dinah was also present last night.

The first time you met her, almost two years ago, was in a scheduled study group in one of the local cafes. It was you, Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok and Dinah, most of the guys, studying to prepare for their last year through college and Ana couldn’t make it so honestly, you were relieved you had another girl to go through together the boys’ antics.

Although if Ana was there, she would’ve probably spent all of her time being coupley with Hoseok and that kinda defeats the purpose.

Dinah was studying for a math exam and Jimin had offered to help her since she wasn’t very good at it. You didn’t think much of it, mind already going haywire over your new novel idea so you didn’t really pay much attention to anyone.

It had been when Jimin left for the bathroom when you saw her scrolling through her phone that you decided to help her with a problem even Jimin couldn’t quite get.

Only her reaction was a tad bit different then what you’d expected. She had interrupted you even before you got to tell her you wanted to help, with a kinda sharp tone saying she didn’t need your help. You had backed off then, kinda bummed out about it but you could already tell she was into Jimin and wanted his help specifically.

But as you had turned to pay attention back to your novel, your gaze couldn’t help but fall on her open notebook. And there it was, in a hidden corner of the page in messy scribblings the solution to the problem. Her handwriting.

You didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t your cup of tea to hide your intellect to raise the ego of the boy you were into and besides feeling a bit sad for her, you didn’t do anything else. Who were you to judge?

It wasn’t until the two of them started going out that you started feeling some sort of dislike towards her. And not just you, the rest of the group as well.

It was obvious to everyone how shitty she treated Jimin. At first, of course, there were no signs as if to warn you of Dinah's manipulative nature, they were still in the lovey-dovey, honeymoon phase. But as time passed, Dinah’s facade began to crumble. Jimin’s interaction with the opposite sex were limited due to Dinah’s extreme jealousy, which meant you and Ana barely got to be around him, let alone talk to him. Her snide comments and judgey behaviour made him feel inadequate over everything. How he got her the wrong gift, how the movie he chose was stupid, how the restaurant he picked was disgusting, and the list goes on and on.

At first, Jimin tried to talk to her about those things, certain she would understand what she was doing once he’d brought it up. But when you’re in love it’s easier to ignore all the red flags. It’s easier to blame yourself for everything when you can see no fault in the person you’re in love with.

Soon the relationship turned toxic. Dinah became similar to a parasite, sucking the life and happiness out of Jimin, as he fell prey to her every whim. Making him even more insecure in himself when she knew he already had some issues he was trying to work on. But that didn’t deter her. Instead, it gave her leverage, to use all the ugly, little things Jimin thought of himself against him.

At some point, it had gotten so bad Jimin refused to eat.

It was then that all of you tried to intervene.

Unsuccessfully that is.

It had gotten pretty ugly in the span of a few minutes with how angry you and Hoseok were at Dinah and at Jimin’s unwavering loyalty to her. Soon it had become a yelling match between the three of you as Seokjin and Ana had tried to bring some sense to all of you. In retrospect, none of you handled the delicate situation well.

In the end, Jimin had stormed out of the apartment, furious at all four of you, to go to Dinah or to the only one that got him as he had put it.

Only to find her in bed with someone else.

He had come home hours later, stinking of alcohol, telling you what had happened through red eyes, tear-stained cheeks and hiccups.

You had put him to sleep and the next morning Dinah was breaking up with him over the phone.

The next few months were awful. But he survived them. He survived and realised he deserved better, not this hell Dinah made him go through. That wasn’t love.

After all of you encouraged him to talk to someone about everything, Jimin went to a therapist and he came out stronger. Sure, some of the issues were still there but so were the rest of you. He knew you’d be there for him if he ever needed you.

That’s why you’re so pissed this morning.

Ana and Hoseok look at you like you’re a ticking bomb about to explode at any minute from the other side of the kitchen island as you munch on your cereal and send death glares at Dinah, currently sitting on Jimin’s lap on the dining table.

If only “death glare” was a bit more literal.

You can’t understand Jimin. He was supposed to be over this. Doesn’t he remember what she did to him, how miserable he was?

“I haven’t seen you staring so long at something since that time you tried to microwave popcorn with your mind,” Ana’s hushed whispers reach you as not to alert the couple and Hoseok almost sputters out his milk.

“Did it work, though?” Hoseok’s eyes stare at her expectantly and you roll your eyes.

“Not gonna dignify that with a response,” is her cryptic answer.

“Seriously, am I the only one who’s pissed over this?” you say through gritted teeth, the happy couple wholly oblivious to your little conversation. Ana and Hoseok seem too calm, given you have a fucking demon at your dining table.

Ana sighs. “We are too, Y/N, but let’s face it, what can we do about it?”

You look at her in disbelief. “Talk to him?!”

“Yeah, and look at how that worked out last time…”

“They broke up.”

“After he caught her cheating…” her words are slow as if talking to a child, “and it wasn’t even him who initiated the break-up! If Jimin wants to be with her we just have to accept it and be there for him if something happens again,” she concludes, taking a sip of her coffee and you can’t believe your ears. She can’t be serious.

“Hoseok, what’s your say in this?” you ask, rather loudly might you add, so you steal a glance making sure Jimin hasn’t heard.

Hoseok shrugs in answer to your question. “We all know she was the devil incarnate. But maybe she changed. Let’s give her a chance.”

Your mouth hangs open when your last possible ally walks over to enemy territory. “Give her a chance? She’s not Andrew Garfield in the Amazing Spiderman!”

Ana’s expression gives away her utter bafflement. “I have so many questions…”

You shrug. “Everyone hates him but I think he was a great Spiderman.”

Hoseok’s incredulous stare doesn’t last for long. “Anyways, all I’m saying is Jimin went through a lot…”

“So he should know better!” you retort.

Hoseok doesn’t seem amused, “So there must be something that changed his mind! He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. If he gave her a second chance, so should we.”

Ana nods at her boyfriend’s words and they both return their eyes on you, waiting for confirmation of your part that you’re gonna be nice.

You regard them with an ominous glare, “Traitors…” you mumble before you groan. “Fine. But I’m gonna be watching her every move. Like an owl!”

“I’m fairly positive it’s supposed to be “like a hawk”...?” a confused pout takes over Hoseok’s lips.

Ana chuckles, “It is “like a hawk”.”

Your confusion is evident. “Really? But owls are nocturnal animals, therefore have better eyesight!”

Ana rolls her eyes at you, tired of all the bird talk. “Even so! Please promise you’ll behave!”

You take a deep breath when a shrill laugh echoes throughout the apartment and you can already feel yourself fuming.

“I promise.”

.

.

After the two “lovebirds” have left your apartment for an impromptu date, which the declaration of had you nearly barfing on sight, you crawled back into your room, in search of inspiration, daring to take another shot at your mostly unfinished novel.

You gather your hair up in a messy bun, glasses on top of your nose, iced coffee next to your papers, preparations all ready to freely embark on the raging seas of creativity.

If writing a novel was that easy.

After writing another three chapters, well after the sun has settled in the horizon and your eyes are barely keeping themselves open, a knock thrums against your door. But before you get to reply, the door creaks open and Ana pops up behind it, walking in with observing eyes and a bag of cheddar-flavoured chips.

“Why do you even bother knocking?” you sigh, taking off your glasses to rub your exhausted eyes.

“The knock is a warning, not a request for entry,” she plops on your bed with a smile, crossing her legs on your duvet and pats the space next to her. 

It’s not uncommon to have Ana spending the entire day here, after all, she is one of your closest friends, an elementary part of your group and Hoseok’s girlfriend.

You get up from your desk, limbs aching for the various positions your body has been in the midst of writing, and with a tired smile you sit down next to her.

“No luck with the book still?” she asks, passing you the chips and you hum appreciatively, your tongue already tasting the divine taste of those chips.

“Well, I’ve written some stuff… just not any particularly good stuff,” you munch through the snack with a grubbled noise of satisfaction and Ana nods in understanding at your words, “and honestly that whole “Dinah” thing is infuriatingly distracting! I’m still pissed and I can’t even stop thinking about it.”

“Wait…” Ana interrupts you and if her face says anything is that she just came to a sudden realization. One she doesn’t seem to particularly enjoy.

“Are you sure this isn’t because of…?” her words hang in the air as she regards you with careful eyes, waiting for you to grasp the meaning between her words.

Though you’re none the wiser. “Because of…?” your utter obliviousness is infuriating and Ana groans, rubbing her palms on her face, pinning you with a ridiculous look.

Right then, it’s as if a moment of clarity strikes you and you finally understand what she means.

Your eyes widen in horror.

“What? Ew, no! Why would you even think that?!” you immediately protest, entirely disgusted by the mere notion of what Ana is implying.

She doesn’t seem at all bothered by your extreme reaction. “I’m just saying, it happened!”

“Yeah, eight months ago!” she can’t be serious. There’s no way she actually believes that.

She cocks an eyebrow. “It was also the last time you had sex.”

You let an exhale drop from your lips, as you take a trip down memory lane, all the way back to eight months ago.

It was April, four months or so after Dinah had broken up with Jimin, leaving him a complete wreckage in her absence. It became a group activity, trying to get Jimin back on his feet. Making sure he ate, taking him outside for some fresh air, helping him get out of his funk.

One night, you took him out for drinks in a bar close to home, to help him get over her through alcohol and hopefully some meaningless sex with a stranger. And Although both of those things happened, it wasn’t a stranger lending him a helping hand that night. Or a helping mouth if you want to be accurate.

You had woken up the next morning in his bed due to the unsettling feeling of dread curling in the pit of your stomach. What the hell were you thinking? What if this changed everything? You were best friends and roommates, what now?

But when Jimin woke up, everything seemed to be back to normal. You were relieved things didn’t become weird, his words immediately putting a rest to your worries over your possibly ruined friendship, joking lightly about the whole thing and how the others might react to the whole incident. It wasn’t a big deal because you never let it become one. It was but one night of mindless sex, one that left you both satiated and you could both agree it meant nothing. Jimin just needed some rebound sex and you… well, it had been a while. And you had needs.

Although you did get a lot of teasing from the rest of the group for the next few weeks. That wasn’t anything fond to remember, especially when you were still thinking you were into Seokjin and he had a large part in said teasing.

But that was in the past. You never felt anything for Jimin in the first place.

“It’s not that, okay? She’s just an awful person and I don’t want to even think about the consequences of her doing Jimin dirty again,” your calm voice and demeanour finally convince Ana as she lets out a relieved breath.

“Okay, good. Got scared there for a second, things could get really messy,” she admits with a small smile.

“You don’t have to worry about that. If anything that’s the least of your worries right now,” you say munching on some more chips as you eye the clock on your wall.

Ana looks at you perplexed. “What do you mean?”

You press your lips together. “Hoseok is alone in his room right?”

Ana looks even more baffled now, not sure where you’re going with this. “Yeah…?”

You press your lips in a tight line. “It’s 10 o’clock…” you relay, a sense of urgency in your voice.

Ana’s eyes widen. Hoseok’s latest obsession is watching Glee reruns on TV, which wouldn’t be that bad if he didn’t insist on singing every episode’s songs for the remainder of the week.

‘You can still stop him if you run…” you offer and Ana is immediately off your bed.

“Hoseok put down the remote!” she yells, running out of your room, down into the living room as you giggle and munch on the chips she left behind.

Your mind travels back to Ana’s worries about your feelings but you laugh them off.

You and Jimin? The entire idea is utterly ridiculous. He’s your best friend, you could never look at him that way.

Although, you too can admit he can be a sexy piece of ass when he wants to.

With a sigh, you throw the empty bag of chips on the floor and get under your covers, your mind too tired out to continue writing.

You just hope this thing with Dinah is only temporary. How long can a fling last when you already know the bad side of your lover?

.

.

When another week passes and they’re still going strong with no prospects of a breakup anywhere on the horizon, you realize it can be long.

Very long.

You wake up each day to giggles, picking thrown out clothes off the couch, listening to their yucky canoodling as they insist on making out on every surface of the apartment like a bunch of delinquents. While the rest of you are still present!

You swear if you hear another one of her obnoxious laughs you’re gonna drive a glass dildo through your ear canals to stop yourself from hearing altogether.

“I can’t take this anymooooore…” Hoseok whines quietly as you, he and Seokjin are crammed in the two-seat couch, while the lovebirds currently occupy the entirety of the big sofa.

It’s not that there’s no space for you to sit there as well. More like their insistent snogging effectively grosses the rest of you away.

“Me neither, but what can we do?” Seokjin whispers back while shuffling on the sofa, trying to find a more comfortable position and instead, managing to elbow both you and Hoseok in the process as an episode of Brooklyn 99 plays on the TV.

At the other side of the coffee table, Ana smiles triumphantly at you as she crosses her legs on top of the only armchair in the room. She was faster than the rest of you, that mean son of a bitch.

Hoseok squints at her with hatred before leaning in to whisper. “Is it wrong that I’m turned on by how mean she looks?”

Both yours and Seokjin’s protests of disgust are immediate.

“Lower the tent you perv,” Seokjin makes a face.

“Too late, this tent is the sturdiest thing ever built. I mean it’s so strong, so efficient, this stick is never gonna go down-”

“Okay, we have to do something or else I’m gonna finally kill Hoseok. After all those years of putting up with his weird sexual energy… this is gonna be the last straw,” your serious eyes turn to Seokjin to stress out the gravity of the situation.

Hoseok giggles mischievously and Seokjin sighs almost like he’s on auto-pilot. “Okay, okay, what do you propose?”

Hoseok pulls a face. “Really? That’s what convinces you? I’m hurt and as your friend of nearly four years I won’t stand for this kind of dishonour of my name!”

You both stare at Hoseok for a minute, no reaction whatsoever.

“Okay, I have a plan,” you ignore Hoseok in favour of turning to Seokjin and Hoseok groans, mumbling a grumpy “fake friends”.

“For the last time, Y/N, I refuse to be involved in your -honestly frightening- lust for murder,” Seokjin gives you the stink eye.

You gasp, offended. “I never said anything about murder!” you exclaim and Seokjin’s shoulders drop, looking somewhat remorseful.

You bite your lip though, knowing full well he’s not gonna like this suggestion either. “I just said we could sedate her and put her in Jimin's room.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, entirely disappointed but not surprised. “No.”

“Why? It’s a win-win situation! We don’t get to hear her and the couch is free!” you protest but Seokjin’s eyebrow raises.

“How’s that a win-win situation?”

“It’s a win-win situation for us! None of the wins is for her,” you shrug before Seokjin flicks you in the forehead and you yelp in pain.

The sound somehow alerts the couple and they both stop kissing to look over to the three of you weirdly. You and the boys immediately stop talking, trying to look as inconspicuous as ever. Which only makes you look even more suspicious.

“You guys okay there?” Jimin asks, voice questioning and wary.

All three of you smile at the same time, which honestly gives you a creepy “Stepford Wives” vibe, and you speak up when an idea pops into your head.

“Yeah, it’s just that this couch is kinda um… small for the three of us. But we’re fine!” you feel Seokjin staring at you wildly and you discreetly nudge him to play along.

Jimin’s face falls. “Oh, I didn’t realize! Some of you can come sit here.”

“Oh, no!” Seokjin waves his hands dismissively, “You guys seem really cosy there, we don’t want to ruin that!” he says, finally following your line of thought and you nod quickly as if to agree with him.

“Ah…” Jimin replies, voice soft and a second passes where his face hardens. But then it’s gone and he taps his finger on his chin as he thinks it through before-, “Well, you three can sit here and we can sit on the smaller couch if you’d like.”

The three of you are already standing up, ignoring the pout and slightly sharp glare Dinah is giving you.

Suck it up, demoness.

“Well, if you’re sure-”

“We’d really appreciate it-”

“Aren’t you two the sweetest-”

Jimin smiles at you, probably already knowing what’s going on and yet he says nothing, urging Dinah to stand up and follow him on the smaller sofa.

You and the boys fall to the bigger sofa with moans of appreciation, finally free to spread out your limbs without touching each other.

“Oh, yeah… that’s the stuff…” you moan as your arms lie limblessly to your side, not touching Hoseok’s or Seokjin’s for just a few centimetres but even those little centimetres of distance come as a blessing.

Ana chuckles at your antics and Seokjin sends her a glare.

“You don’t have laughing-at-the-rest-of-us rights, anymore, Brutus!” he shakes a finger at her but Ana’s smile doesn’t deteriorate.

“I’d let that Brutus impale me with her blade anytime…” Hoseok adds unnecessarily and you groan.

Jimin takes a pause for having his soul sucked from his mouth from the dementor next to him, to look mildly curious. “How would that even work?” he asks and Dinah looks less than thrilled to not have his whole attention anymore, making you feel somewhat in the mood to gloat.

Ana rushes to explain. “Well, you see it can happen when you have purchased a specific type of-”

Seokjin immediately shuts Ana with his palm over her mouth. “Did you have to ask?!”

Jimin giggles. “I just wanted to know!”

“Yeah, and I wanted to not be traumatized by that image at 8 o’clock on a Thursday night but here we are!” Seokjin interjects and an involuntary laugh escapes your lips before Hoseok joins you.

And then Ana and Jimin do too before Seokjin relents as well at the sound of your laughter and you all end up cackling like maniacs in the middle of your living room.

Well, all except one.

Dinah sighs a little too loud when your giggles don’t seem to die down and she slowly gets off the couch. Her sullen face, an indication she visualised this whole evening to play out a little differently.

“I think I’m gonna head home…” She addresses Jimin and he stands up too.

“Oh, no, so soon?” your sarcasm can’t be helped. Hoseok elbows you in the ribs in return and you just barely conceal your groan.

“Why? Stay a little while longer…” Jimin pouts at her, that one specific pout that makes him seem like a kicked puppy, therefore makes him irresistible to refuse. You purse your lips as you guide your attention to the latest adventures of Jake Peralta but your treacherous ears can’t help but follow the rest of the conversation.

“I can’t. I have to be at the office early tomorrow…” she sounds remorseful as her hands rest on Jimin’s chest. But as said before you’re definitely not looking at them, so you can only guess.

“I’m sure those kids can wait a little- You know what, I felt bad for saying that, so forget I ever did,” Jimin says quickly as he circles his hands around her waist. Again you guess.

Ah, yeah, you forgot to mention. Dinah is a damn paediatrician. How could a person as evil as herself be something in such close proximity to children will forever escape you.

She smiles at him before- “Buut… you can come over instead if you’d like…” she says in a low voice and your eyes widen. You drag them away before Jimin’s surprised ones find you.

He can’t do that! Well, obviously, he can but Jimin wouldn’t do that to you-.

“Actually I promised Y/N we’d watch Space Jam tonight…” he tells her somewhat apologetically but still you feel relieved. Watching Space Jam is kind of a tradition between the two of you. It was a favourite movie of both, a feel-good movie if you will and long ago you’d promised each other that when things got rough for one or the other and you needed a little pick-me-up, you’d watch the movie together. You didn’t have to say anything else, just ask if the other one wanted to see the movie. And whatever the two of you had planned instead didn’t matter, you were always there when the other needed you.

You asked him this time. Your novel wasn’t going that well and some serious doubts over your writing skills had plagued your mind. You needed a getaway. And you weren’t about to let her get that away from you.

“Oh… okay…” she responds, face crestfallen and sad eyes looking at her feet and you almost scowl. She’s doing this on purpose! She knows it’s a tradition between the two of you and by acting like this she hopes Jimin will bail out on you.

Well, joke’s on her, because that won’t work on-.

“But, I’m sure Y/N won’t mind if we do that some other time!”

You freeze. Did he just-? No, Jimin wouldn’t. But the smile on his lips, so hopeful, says otherwise.

You can feel everyone staring at you, waiting for an answer. Do they seriously expect you to be fine with this?! Jimin knows how much this means to you, what it exactly means about your state of mind right now! Is he seriously about to blow you off?!

Ana is staring at you with alarm, sensing you’re about to explode, warning you against it. She knows it’ll just hurt Jimin and you know that too, but what about you?

You ignore her stare, opening your mouth to give a piece of your mind when you meet Jimin’s eyes.

There’s no sign of ulterior motives in their familiar brown, just expectation as your best friend waits for the answer. You forget what you wanted to say and you just stare back. Why is it so damn difficult to say no to him?

A few seconds pass and Jimin, having sensed your hesitation, opens his mouth with a sigh. “Nevermind, we can just-”

“It’s fine! You can go!” you exclaim surprising everyone including yourself. Jimin turns to look at you flabbergasted but you just smile at him. You don’t know what drove you to do that. You just couldn’t bear to hear the disappointment in his voice while knowing you’re the one causing it.

“Are you sure…?” his voice is cautious, not wanting to go if it means it’ll get you even a little bit uncomfortable. Sweet Jimin, always thinking about others’ feelings. You smile again to spare his feelings, disregarding completely your own.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you reply and the sweetest smile takes over his lips, making all of this seem worth it.

“Great! Thank you!” he says, rushing to press a quick kiss to your forehead, taking you by surprise before turning to Dinah, “Just lemme grab some stuff,” he disappears down the hall into his room.

He reappears a few minutes later with a small bag over his shoulders, the smile still present on his lips.

“Ready to go?” Dinah asks as Jimin gives her a peck on the cheek and nods.

“See you tomorrow, guys. Y/N, again thank you,” he waves at all of you and flashes you a smile. You smile back, waving as well as he exits the apartment first.

Dinah though stops before walking out the door and then she turns to you with a grateful smile.

“Y/N, thanks for that, I knew he wasn’t gonna come if you weren’t okay with it. And I’m sorry for stealing him away. Have a good night,” she addresses you before moving to exit the apartment.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome…” you reply and as soon as the door closes behind her you continue, “...you little bitch!” you move wildly to get out of the couch after her at that blatant display of her having Jimin wrapped around her little finger, while Hoseok and Seokjin are immediately trying to hold you back.

She did that on purpose! She knew what that movie represented, she just wanted to spite you! You don’t care how sincere she looked, she did that on purpose!

“Hey, hey, calm down, they’re gone!” Ana steps in front of you to calm you down and slowly your breaths even out. Your tired limbs fall lifelessly on the couch, not anymore resisting Hoseok’s and Seokjin’s hold.

Once you’ve calmed down, all of them stare at you cautiously. You hate that. You hate the pity in their eyes, you hate how they know exactly how much this hurts you, you hate feeling like you need their help.

You hate feeling vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” you snap, shaking their arms off, even if your own still have a slight tremble and you stand up.

They exchange stares and you press your lips together as you stare at the ceiling. Taking a deliberately slow breath to control your trembling.

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, your tone final, not waiting to hear their responses before you leave the living room for the safety of your own room.

None of them makes an attempt to follow you and you’re grateful for that at least.

You stomp into your room, closing the door loudly before grabbing your laptop and sit on your bed with a huff.

You don’t need Jimin to watch Space Jam and feel good afterwards! It’s the movie that makes you feel okay, not the person you’re watching it with. That’s what you try to convince yourself as you search for the movie on Netflix.

But as you sit there fuming through the first few minutes of the film, you can’t concentrate. You feel pushed aside as if you don’t matter, from none other than your best friend.

You press pause and with a sigh, you push the laptop aside. Tonight wasn’t supposed to go like this. You were supposed to watch your favourite movie with your best friend, to make jokes and laugh with Bugs Bunny, to feel better for once in the entirety of the last month. To feel comforted and safe in the presence of your best friend instead of moping miserably on top of your bed and feeling worse than before.

Instead, you grab your phone from your nightstand, scrolling through media in a poor attempt to distract yourself.

That’s how you spend your Thursday night and before you realize it you fall asleep with your phone still on your hands.

.

.

“Y/N. Y/N, wake up…” a soft voice brings you back from your slumber and you sleepily open your eyes to see Jimin hunched over you with a small, tender smile.

“What… What time is it?” you mumble, rubbing at your eyes and Jimin’s smile widens ever so slightly.

“It’s twelve past one. Come on get up, you’ll be dying in the morning if you sleep like this…” he responds quietly, urging you to abandon your current sleeping position for one that is more comfortable under the warmth of your covers. You’ve been curled up like a cat next to your laptop that’s still paused on Space Jam.

Jimin’s careful eyes flee to the screen, only for a second before they return to you, ever so gentle.

“Oh, okay then…” you mumble kinda dumbly in your sleep-infused haze and Jimin looks at you expectantly for a moment too long before he pushes you further across the mattress, to leave what you belatedly realize is more space for him.

“Scout over…” he whines, voice still quiet and you look at him perplexed. Why does he wanna sleep here, he has his own bed.

“Why?” you ask, purely confused and not at all hurt by the previous incident as Jimin expected but nonetheless his smile saddens before he stares shyly at your duvet.

“I was thinking, perhaps, we could still see the movie if you’re not too tired…” he mumbles, eyes wide effectively nailing the “puppy stare” he’s infamous for and naturally you find resolve crumbling. The previous anger is long gone when you stare at him so you smile back as you move aside and draw the covers for him to get under.

“Get here, you rascal,” you whisper back and his smile matches yours when he obeys and climbs in, dragging the laptop forward to restart the movie.

The both of you get comfortable against your headboard, Jimin’s arm hanging loosely around your shoulders as you watch Michael Jordan get sucked down a golf hole to the Looney Tune’s world.

The truth is you’re extremely tired and you most probably will fall asleep during the movie but you don’t mind sitting next to Jimin as the movie plays in the background and you bask in his warmth. Because at last, you feel the raging sea of your thoughts subside. Your mind is once again calm and serene, all your worries thrown aside in the favor of this one moment that makes you feel content. 

Ana’s warning faintly echoes through your head but the words are not enough to dampen your mood or make you spend a little more of your focus on them, even though Jimin’s arms feel safe. Feel like home.

A small smile stretches your lips. Even when you feel your eyes heavy with sleep, you still snuggle closer to your best friend.

.

.

{Jimin’s POV}

He’s a terrible, terrible friend.

The thought repeats inside the crevices of Jimin’s mind like mockery as he drives. His fingers tap against the leather of the steering wheel impatiently, matching his haywire of thoughts in a weird kind of fucked up way.

He shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have made the subtle request in the first place. He knew you needed him, how could he not? It was stupid and selfish of him to leave you behind when you needed him.

But when Dinah gave him a distraction, a way to keep himself occupied… that’s what he wanted. Right? A distraction from everything, something to keep his mind off of things, to keep him from making any mistakes.

But even as he was lying on Dinah’s couch he couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how he left you behind in a time he knew was difficult for you just so he can finally breathe freely, focus on something else other than-.

Dinah was good at that. Making him forget.

But as awful of a friend he was, he’s apparently an even worse boyfriend.

When his thoughts got too much to handle, too much for him to ignore and pretend he didn’t feel any remorse for abandoning you, he left Dinah’s with an excuse. It was a stupid one, he knew, she knew but still, she let him go. Because, as much as she made Jimin go through before, she changed. Jimin could recognize that in the way she acted, the way she talked, even the way she kissed him. That’s why he gave her a second chance in the first place.

And then he goes and probably ruins it by being the worst boyfriend. A stupid decision really.

He parks his car in front of their building and he locks with a sigh.

It’s late, too late for you to still be awake. And if you are awake at such an hour, it’ll probably be because you’re writing and you most likely won’t want to be disturbed.

But Jimin can’t help it. His guilt is killing him, eating him up from the inside so he has to at least check.

When he softly taps on your door and gets no reply, he pushes it open.

He finds you fast asleep, curled up on top of your covers, phone still on your hands and laptop still open next to your form.

He smiles softly at the image before he approaches you quietly, taking the phone from your hands to place on your nightstand before he wakes you up.

“Y/N. Y/N, wake up…” he whispers softly, unable to keep the smile away from his lips at your adorable sleeping form. Waking you up is a necessary evil; otherwise, the next morning will consist of your sore muscles and your grumpy behaviour in all its glory.

“What… What time is it?” you ask quite drowsily and Jimin is relieved to see no sign of hurt in your voice. Nothing that exposes any malice or grudge hold against him.

“It’s twelve past one. Come on, get up, you’ll be dying in the morning if you sleep like that…” Jimin pushes you softly to move under the covers when his eyes find the screen of your laptop.

Paused in the first few minutes of Space Jam.

His chest constricts uncomfortably and he moves his eyes away in shame. The pain in his chest can only feel like a blade has impaled him with all the implications of how much of an awful friend he is. God, great job, Jimin.

But as you move over your mattress and under the covers, completely serene and calm, Jimin decides to make it up to you.

Towards the end of the movie Jimin realizes you’ve fallen asleep.

You’ve been quiet for a while now but it isn’t until he turns to point something out that he realises your eyes are closed.

You’re breathing slowly, snuggled up next to him, face pressed into the pillow as your chest rises and falls ever so gently.

His lips stretch into a smile, pushing a stray hair out of your face. He picks up the duvet to properly cover you and the movement makes you shift closer to him, to press your face on his side as if searching for him even in your sleep.

His smile widens. And then it falls.

God, he wants to-.

He stops the thought before it emerges.

His movements are deliberately slow and as quiet as they can be as he gets out of bed. He closes your laptop, leaving it on top of your desk before he walks to the door.

He stops then. He turns to take one last look at you and then he leaves.

.

.

{Y/N’s POV}

Next morning you wake up feeling fully rested.

You rub the sleepiness off your eyes before sitting up, hands landing on your soft covers, toes on the cold floor and you wiggle them back to life as you stretch your back with an appreciative moan.

You check your phone for the time, shocked when you find it’s too early for anyone to be awake on a Friday morning and you contemplate diving back into the haven of your covers. But the truth is you don't feel sleepy anymore and you were never the person to loll around in bed either.

So with one last yawn, you put on your slippers and make way to your kitchen. Since you’re the first one up, you could cook breakfast for the boys, reminding them of how much of a good roommate you are and riding them with guilt about the fact both of them haven’t bought any popcorn this last week.

Oh, maybe eggs and bacon? They’d love that! And plus, the tastier the recipe, the more prominent the guilt. You’ll have popcorn to spare for the rest of the year.

But as you make the turn for the kitchen, someone else is already banging pots and whisks in their attempt to concoct a delicious breakfast.

Jimin’s humming some song, whisking some batter as a pan rests on top of the stove, eggs already crackling on top of the boiling oil and the smell fills your nostrils as you get closer. 

Dammit, no free popcorn for you. But at least you won’t have to cook.

“God, that smells amazing…” you comment as you take a seat on the kitchen island and Jimin turns around, eyes wide in reaction to the sudden noise but quickly smirks once it realizes it’s just you.

“Morning to you too,” he chuckles with a roll of his eyes as the whisk never stops moving in his hands. He quickly looks back on the stove when the crackling gets louder and he puts aside the batter with a curse to inspect the eggs.

“Want some help?” you can’t help the soft smile on your face, surprisingly ready to step up and aid his ministrations despite feeling relieved earlier of not having to cook.

He blows a stray hair out of his eyes before he relents. “Please.”

With a giggle, you abandon your spot to help the poor man as Jimin finally finds some time to drink some water. “Where do you want me, chief?” you ask with your hands on your waist.

Jimin chokes on his water, coughing uncontrollably and worry fills you as you’re quick to pat him on the back.

“Hey, easy with the water bud!” you joke and once his coughing stops he gives you a weak smile.

“Got it. Um, you could whisk the batter as I fry the bacon. It needs some more stirring…” he turns to take the done eggs out of the pan, face red from the coughing fit and you mumble a quick confirmation before taking a hold of the whisk.

The kitchen is then filled with the sounds of your whisking and the crackling of the oil in the pan, as Jimin continues humming that unfamiliar song. You gather your hair up in a ponytail to get them out of the way as you continue whisking next to Jimin. It’s been a long time since the two of you have been like this; cooking together, spending time next to one another and still feel close even when you say nothing. The comfortable silence stretches around you as sun rays lighten up the space, hitting at all the right spots to illuminate the two of you.

Your eyes move on their own accord, fleeting to Jimin’s concentrated face as he adds another bacon strip. His brown eyes are focused on the task ahead, eyebrows scrunching whenever a particularly loud crackling sound emerges and your lips move into shaping an involuntarily smile. The sun streams run through his hair, flecks of dust floating in the air around him, almost like a halo, bathing him in an almost ethereal glow. As if you’re his lover and he makes you breakfast after spending the night together, tangled between the sheets.

Your mind short-circuits and you blink when the thought catches up with your reason.

What the fuck was that?

At that moment Jimin leans almost too close to your face, as he ducks to avoid some oil spitting out of the pan.

Your eyes widen at the close proximity and you suck in a breath, realising your mistake as soon as his natural scent infiltrates your lungs.

God, he smells so good. It reminds you of the fresh scent of rain and flowers and something so obviously him.

Jimin leans away immediately and you almost lean forward.

Y/N, what the fuck?

His smile is blinding. “Sorry…” he says before taking out the bacon strips, and you shake your head to get the weird thoughts out of your mind.

“It’s fine…” you mutter, returning your eyes to the batter.

Suddenly very aware of Jimin next to you.

.

.

After you’re done with cooking and putting some aside for Hoseok when he wakes up, the two of you sit down on the kitchen island to finally eat.

“So how did you sleep, Y/N?” Jimin’s voice is coloured with a teasing timbre as he regards you with wiggling eyebrows.

You groan out loud. You remember falling asleep during the movie very clearly and he’s never gonna let you live that down. But you’ll be damned if you let yourself go down without a fight. Or at least bringing him down with you.

“It happened once! Plus I wasn’t the one ditching my best friend to go get laid!” you tease him back, although a bit of your bitterness over last night’s debacle slips through your words, the jab at him a little more serious than you intended at first.

Although your pettiness quickly ebbs away once Jimin’s smile falls and he looks at his plate with a downtrodden face. You suddenly regret saying anything, realising how much of a jerk you’ve been to bring it up when you already decided it wasn’t worth to keep a grudge over. You don’t want to be the reason he looks like this.

“I was just joking, Jimin, I’m not really mad,” you rush to comfort him, placing a tentative hand on top of his palm.

You feel at ease when you don’t feel him pull back. Though a grim sigh rolls off his lips.

“Maybe you aren’t, but that does not make the way I acted last night okay…” he admits, voice low as he rubs the base of his neck with his other hand. He bites his lip in thought and your eyes stick there for a moment before you shake your head back into reasoning.

Thankfully Jimin doesn’t seem to catch up on that. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was a terrible friend. I knew you needed me and I decided to leave. Please forgive me?” he begs with a pleading smile and damn it, it’s difficult to refuse anything to these eyes.

You sigh dramatically, tapping a finger on your chin as you pretend to ponder on it. “Say I do forgive you. How do you plan on replenishing those hours of agony I was forced to spend due to your absence?” you say with a mock-strict voice and Jimin smiles, already knowing you forgave him.

“I’ll do anything you want. Consider me your personal Genie,” he jokes, jutting his chin out and puffing up his chest.

“Does that mean I get three wishes and a spectacular musical number?”

He’s quick to glare at you. “Let’s not stretch this too much, okay?”

You chuckle when an idea pops into your mind. Oh, he’s gonna hate this, perfect.

The smirk that graces your lips can’t mean anything good, Jimin realises with a sigh.

“How about a little competition…?”

Jimin’s eyes widen in fear. “You don’t mean-?”

“A Just Dance Competition!” you announce loudly, grin threatening to split your lips as Jimin stares at you with a fond smile.

“Oh, god, I should’ve expected that…” he chuckles, the sound resigning as he shakes his head.

In your first years of college, competing on Just Dance choreographies was almost an everyday thing. You and Jimin would give your best dancing moves and Hoseok would judge. Although after many times cheating and being overly competitive to the point of threatening the poor judge, you decided to leave the activity behind.

“Come on, just this once…” you hold up one finger and bring out your best puppy stare to sway him. Jimin just stares at you with crossed hands on his chest.

“You said anything…” your voice visibly loses its excitement as your face turns a bit crest-fallen.

He doesn’t last for long.

“Fine. We can do this, I guess…” he relents.

“Yes!” you do a little victory dance at Jimin’s answer.

“But just this once! And no one else can see but Hoseok!” he protests, shaking a finger scarily at you and you groan but agree nonetheless.

“Okay! It’ll just be the three of us. Partners in crime!” you declare, enthusiasm ruling over your body, standing proudly with your hands on your hips.

Jimin shakes his head. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m your friend…”

You stick your tongue out to him. “Because you looove me,” you sing-song, pecking him on the cheek, with a loud smack.

Jimin’s frame remains still for a moment. Staring at you as you climb out of your stool to wake up Hoseok and share the news before he reaches out.

“Wait…” his hand grasps your arm, halting your steps as you turn around to him with a questioning look.

He takes a deep breath before a smile befalls his lips. “I just… I never got to thank you.”

You stare back, confused, trying to think of what he wants to thank you for, but as time passes and you come by with nothing, you get more and more perplexed.

“About what?” you sit down again, kinda curious of what is so important to him that he wants to thank you.

His smile is grateful. “You know, for being so considerate with this whole situation. I mean, we all know Dinah… And I appreciate you being so cool about it,” he says calmly, thankfully as he takes your empty plates to put them on the sink.

His words send a fresh wave of guilt through you and you bite your lip. You need to tell him the truth.

“Actually about that…” you turn to look at him, trailing off and unsure of how to tell him you actually, kinda, sorta hate his girlfriend with a burning passion.

“Yeah?” Jimin’s unaware eyes and sweet smile meet your shameful and guilty ones. He looks so oblivious and so happy. You can see he likes her, you can see he wants to make this work and even you can admit Dinah’s behaviour has changed. Maybe this is it for them. Maybe all that shit had to happen so the second time around they’d know better of each other and themselves.

Maybe they were meant to make it work from the beginning.

A lump gets stuck in your throat.

“... Of course,” you smile through the sickening feeling in your chest, one you choose to ignore, despite its magnitude, “I’ll always be there to support you no matter what.”

Jimin’s smile turns wider, radiant and you feel like it swallows you.

Like it’s the only thing you see.

.

.

It’s the next evening that you put on your dancing gear and get ready to beat Jimin’s ass. 

Saturday is one of the few really free days you have. Jimin has no classes scheduled to teach today, Hoseok’s radio show isn’t scheduled for Saturdays and you’re just a writer with time to spare.

True to your words, you haven’t said anything to the other two friends of your group, keeping this little event strictly between the residents of this house. Although to be fair, there was another reason for the missed invite.

It’s not the first time during those two days that Ana’s words came to haunt you. To nag at your mind, making you wonder if there’s any truth to the accusations. Those accompanied with your behaviour around Jimin yesterday can only spell trouble for you and your dynamics.

No, there’s no way you feel anything else for Jimin besides cordial friendship. Ana just messed with your head, putting all those silly ideas in it to confuse you, hence why you can’t stop thinking about him naked.

Oops, did you say naked? You meant “in all those domestic scenarios where he’s your lover”.

You sigh. That doesn’t sound any better.

Okay, focus. You don’t like him. There’s no way.

Making your way into the living room, you find your roommates already in the area. Hoseok searches for Just Dance videos on youtube while Jimin stretches on the floor, leaning forward to touch his toes while granting you a perfect view of his plumpy behind.

God, what did I just say?!

You shake your head. That doesn’t count! You can still be attracted to someone and regard them only as a friend. Right?

Bottom line is you don’t like Jimin.

“Are we ready gentlemen?” you shot them a confident smile, already pumped up for this.

Jimin regards you with self-assurance colouring his features. “Ready for you to eat my dust? You bet I am,” he boasts, a sly smirk gracing his lips and you snort out loud.

“We’ll see about that…” is your collected comeback, not really worried about the outcome of this competition. You know you’re about to serve him his ass on a platter.

“Your trash talk sucks dick. Thank god I’m not the judge of that, both of you would be slammed to the ground right now…” Hoseok retorts with impassiveness as he puts a video on queue.

“You’re not here to roast us, you’re here to judge buttercup, so shut your hole and judge,” you bite back, the rush of the impending competition already getting you lightheaded, as you stare Hoseok down.

His eyebrow twitches in return. “Do you want me to change the song?” he challenges you.

At that, you and Jimin turn around immediately to see Twice’s Feel Special tutorial staring back at you from the screen and you realise that no. You don't.

“You’re fucking kidding me…” is Jimin’s less than excited response at having to dance the one song you’re a thousand times better than him.

This is gonna be a piece of cake.

.

.

“No, I’m done! You clearly cannot appreciate my natural charisma, which is simply a blasphemy! A blasphemy, I tell you! People would beg to be judged by me, you degenerates!” Hoseok bursts out of the couch, the dancing tutorial still echoing softly in the background.

“No, Hoseok, please! We promise we’ll be good!” you beg with not as much as a tiny speck of sympathy for your deteriorating dignity.

Jimin scoffs, crossing his hands on his chest. “We? I had no part in this disrespectful disruption and that should be duly noted!” he rushes to save face. Truth is you’ve gone a bit too far.

“Y/N, you threw your phone at me!” a sheepish smile takes over your lips as Hoseok’s eyes marvel at your completely nonchalant behaviour.

“I didn’t… throw my phone at you per se....” you struggle to find an excuse, “I… threw it to you!” you explain with a giggle once your words make somewhat sense.

“What?” Hoseok’s furrowed eyebrows are a clear indication he’s not buying your shit.

“I threw it to you, not at you! So you could... film us! And naturally, the competition would be fairer!” you say in explanation, making your story on the way though it seems none of your roommates believe you.

You suppose that’s fair.

“I would’ve believed you if you hadn’t screamed straight to my face, -and I quote-, “What do you know of judging you freaking cocksucker?”,” Jimin lets out a snort, one he’s quick to hide behind his lips once your ominous glare finds him.

“Well, that leaves us with no judge and we’re currently at a tie, so what will we do?”

Hoseok simply shrugs before heading off to the corridor. “Not my problem anymore, compadre!” he beams at you before disappearing into his room.

Another heavy sigh tumbles from your lips as the song in the background changes into a softer ballad and you turn around to Jimin.

“Well, I guess this was for nothing then…” you huff out but Jimin simply smiles.

“No, I don’t think so…” he responds cryptically and before you can question him about it, his hand grabs yours.

“Come on, let’s dance…” he mutters quietly as he drags you forward closer to him.

Your breath hitches as your palms rest on his chest, heart suddenly beating wildly out of rhythm. You try to chase away Ana’s suggestion, blaming these feelings only on the fact that he’s hot. That’s all. Nothing more.

“But it’s a ballad. It has no tutorial…” you sputter, panic lingering in your words in a futile attempt to get rid of that unexplainable warmth enveloping you as Jimin’s hands end up encasing you.

“So we’ll slow dance…” is his simple answer, clearly not at all as affected as you.

You don’t know why that drives something ugly through your chest.

There’s nothing else you can say to get out of this without making it weird, so you simply let him guide you.

It’s easy to fall into a routine, slowly swaying to the beat of the music as you rest your chin on Jimin’s shoulder. You let your hands find their way to Jimin’s back, sliding upwards to rest on his shoulder blades as his own spread comfortable warmth to the small of your back.

It’s easy to pretend like this. Easier to close your eyes and let the beat slowly fill your ears, as you bask in the safeness of Jimin’s embrace. Like it’s nothing but another normal Sunday night, and not a favour to you because he left you to go hang out with Dinah.

Dinah. The name brings a pang of dull ache in your sternum.

There’s a small lump in your throat that you swallow away.

You’re just worried for him.

A small voice wonders when you’ll grow tired of this.

Jimin’s audible sigh brings you back to reality. You lean back to find him staring at you. His eyes bore into yours and you can’t look away.

There’s something in them, something unreadable but it makes your cheeks scorch with the attention. Though you’re unable to avert your gaze from them. They remind you of that night, outside of your doors, when you were sure he was about to say something but ultimately choose not to.

Again, you wonder what that was. If he’s about to say it now.

But his lips remain pierced shut.

When the silence gets overwhelming you decide to break it.

You clear your throat. “So, uhm, have you done your christmas shopping yet?” you mumble, eyes zerowing on your feet that step side by side to Jimin’s.

His eyes still seek your own. “No, not yet…” he replies casually, hands soft upon your waist. “What about you?” he asks and you’re glad for the more than welcome distraction.

“Oh, yeah, I’m done with mine. Just haven’t figured what to get for Seokjin yet… You know how he gets about presents…” you mumble with a smile before you accidentally step on Jimin’s foot.

He hisses and your eyes widen as you rush to apologize.

“Shit, I’m sorry, maybe we should stop…”

Jimin shakes his head, “No, it’s fine…” he says, though his voice is a bit stiff and his eyes avert your own.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t stop dancing with you.

Again, there’s silence between you, only the sound of the song wafting through the living room. But this time it feels as if something else is floating through the air. Something tense.

You’re quick to fill the silence with a question that’s not easy to ask but it’s the only thing you can think of.

“So… you and Dinah, huh?” you just barely cover your shaky voice.

Jimin’s eyes find yours again. “Oh, uhm, yeah… I mean who would’ve thought, right?” he says with a surprised chuckle, “I mean after everything you’d think I would’ve stayed clear of her…” he says bewildered and an uneasy chuckle escapes you.

“Well, yeah, to be completely honest, we all were caught off guard…” you dare to say, remembering seeing him and Dinah in Seokjin’s bathroom that night. Only now thinking of his lips on her skin makes your stomach clench uncomfortably.

Jimin chuckles in response. “Yeah, I know. And I’m glad you are this civilized about it. I admit it wasn’t supposed to go this far, she was just there when I wasn’t okay and needed a distraction. She was familiar and comfortable. But then we ended up talking and… she’s really changed, Y/N. She kept apologizing for everything and I couldn’t help but think about how it would be if we tried again. I mean everyone deserves a second chance, right?” he concludes with such clarity and insight.

There’s a part of you that wants to say he’s stupid and naive for believing her. But the truth is he’s right. Everyone sane can see she has indeed changed and it reflects on their relationship as well. Jimin returns from their dates feeling happy and content.

You don’t know why that feels like a punch in the gut.

Your lips tug into a forced smile. “Right… wait, why weren’t you okay?” you ask, finally realizing you have no recollection of that. If he had been feeling less than okay at Seokjin's party, you can’t recall.

Jimin laughs your worries off, even though the nervousness in his features is obvious. “It was nothing. I just… saw something I shouldn’t have…” is his evasive answer. His eyes find yours again and they don’t dare to avoid you. Neither do you.

There’s something tense between you, something unspoken. You don’t think you can take any more of this without going mad.

But Jimin’s gaze doesn’t deter. It remains on you, as his hands tighten on your waist. The traitorous fluttering of your heart progresses and you mask your trembling inhale just barely. And suddenly an unexpected yearning blooms inside your lungs. One that’s swallowing you whole, threatening to take hold of your reasoning, threatening to push you forward and-.

Another Just dance tutorial comes into the screen and causes you both to jump in surprise and break apart.

Warmth spreads through your cheeks as you realize what you were about to do.

You were about to lean in.

Jimin clears his throat, eyes searching for his phone and he checks the time. “Oh, shit, I promised Dinah I’d go over there after we’re done…” he mumbles and you can’t help the slight sting that grows in your chest.

“Oh, yeah, go ahead…” you wind up saying, “I mean there’s no one to judge so technically there’s no competition anymore…” you try to get rid of the uneasiness with a chuckle.

Jimin looks at you with a carefree smile as if nothing happened. And you don’t know what hurts more, Jimin’s nonchalance about it or that nothing actually happened.

“Great, then I’m off. Bye, see you tomorrow!” he says, grabbing his phone and keys before stepping out of the apartment.

You stand there in the middle of the living room, eyes stuck on the closed front door. Knowing he went to find her and your chest constricts painfully.

You place your palm to steady your beating heart but it does not work. Not at all. Not when you keep wondering, wishing it was you in her place.

With terror, you realize you’re in deep shit.

.

.

You avoid Jimin as much as you can after that. December progresses, people flooding the streets to either buy presents, meet up with loved ones or visit the Christmas market at the centre, spreading love and warmth through an otherwise cold period.

Sadly that liberated flux of emotion cannot penetrate your tough walls of “perpetual desolation”, as you had once drunkenly described, and paired with the newly-realized feelings for Jimin, it renders you a real-life Scrooge.

That’s how Wednesday finds you with Ana and Seokjin, holed up in a cosy, little coffee house while trying to plan out this year’s New Year’s party.

It’s been a tradition of some sorts for you and your friends to host a New Year’s party at Ana’s apartment, given it’s the most spacious one, inviting all the people you know to celebrate the start of the new year in the best way possible.

You normally would be really pumped up about organizing the event, getting a small taste of the thrill the party would be weeks before. But today your mind isn’t at all able to focus on the preparations. Not that you could focus on anything else besides Jimin since Saturday.

“Okay, I’m sorry but we have to stop. Y/N clearly isn’t paying attention,” Seokjin acts out, his loud whining succeeds in startling you and you finally turn around to realize both of your friends stare suspiciously at you.

Seokjin is just confused, you can tell but Ana’s eyes tell a different story.

That night, after Jimin left for Dinah’s, you immediately called your friend, voice full to the brim with panic as you explained with a nervous stutter what happened. What you had realized and she tried to provide comfort in the best way that she could. She came over with a tub of ice cream, ready to talk it out with you and figure out what your plan was going to be. You also plead with her not to tell Hoseok, the boy couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

So you’re left sitting here, trying to plan out a party and instead wondering what your course of action should be.

And also wanting to tell Seokjin, hoping he’d have something different to say than Ana. Her suggestion was not what you wanted to hear. Not in the slightest.

“What’s going on?” the man in question asks once he deciphers the mild look of despair in your eyes, voice a tad more empathetic than before.

Your eyes find Ana’s.

She lets out a sigh, before closing her notebook. “Guess I’ll have to say it then…” she muses and a grateful smile masks over your lips. It’s still quite difficult for you to wrap your head around this sudden, inconceivable situation, let alone utter it out loud.

Seokjin’s confusion reflects in the state of his eyebrows; scrunched in, twitching upwards as his eyes zero in on Ana.

Ana rolls her eyes, takes a breath and then-.

“Y/N realized she’s in love with Jimin.”

“Ana!” you protest with wide eyes at her choice of words, feeling your cheeks redden as Seokjin gasps in astonishment.

“Okay, okay, “likes” Jimin,” she reformulates although she doesn’t have you convinced she believes this.

“Jimin?!” the man’s wide eyes are filled with disbelief, mirroring your own sentiments about the current turn of events.

You nod quickly yet somehow bashfully as another gasp falls from Seokjin’s lips and Ana mumbles a quiet “I know”.

“What? How? Who? No, wait, we know who,” he cuts off himself but not for long, “When? When did your feelings change? Was it after your one-night special of passionate love-making? God I have so many questions!” his whole form is trembling with excitement, giddiness over the newly discovered news that leaves you sort of confused.

“I don’t know actually…” you mumble, overly self-conscious and yet you push yourself to continue, to pour out everything that came rushing over you in the last couple of days. Maybe it’ll help. “It feels more as if… as if those feelings were always there? Only I hadn't realised them until recently…” you mutter, eyes on your cup as you stir the now-cold americano.

It still amazes you how much of those words are real. You like your best friend and in some way, you think you always did. Though you guess you were too dense to ever really pay attention to that bubbling feeling in your chest every time he was near.

Not until Ana pointed it out.

“How did you realize it then?” Seokjin’s query is deceptively calm and you figure from the insistent nail-biting, he’s holding back to not scare you off. An act you greatly appreciate.

“Well, Ana and I had a talk the other day which gave me a lot to think about… And after spending some time with Jimin alone and I started to observe myself and my behaviour around him… how he made me feel… I realized it for what it was. For what it is…” you stare at your cup while stealing careful glances at Seokjin, who looks ready to burst with whatever he wants to say but refrains from doing so.

You roll your eyes with a chuckle. “You can talk now.”

A loud gasp tears through his mouth before, “Oh my god, this is so exciting! I already ship it, you’re perfect for each other! If I’m being honest here I never made a move on you cause I also thought you had something going on with Jimin, oh sweet baby Jesus this ship is sailing itself. It’s canon! I-”

“Wait, Seokjin, I think you forget a very important detail,” Ana interrupts him, gaze stern as ever and Seokjin visibly hesitates.

“What?”

“Dinah,” Ana answers and Seokjin’s eyes glaze over with recognition before his shoulders drop.

“Oh, right…” he remembers solemnly and steals a glance at you full with guilt.

You smile although a bit saddened. “It’s okay…”

“But, Y/N… Are you actually in love with him? Or was this just something Ana said to tease you?” he regards you with wary eyes.

You rush to answer the question, minutes before so certain of your answer, only for your lips to remain shut with uncertainty. “I… I don’t know. I mean I thought it was just a crush but I’m not so sure anymore. He’s all I can think about, all I could think about even when I didn't know I liked him, something he said, or the way his voice changed, wondering what the cause of it was. I catch myself actively wishing to be in Dinah’s place, to be the one Jimin goes home to at the end of the day, the one to get to call him hers…” your feelings catch up with you and you find yourself needing a moment to breathe. A moment when you realize it’s not just some stupid crush.

You take a shaky breath. “Fuck, I’m screwed…” you say, the consequences of your breakthrough taking over you like a tidal wave, as you come to a startling conclusion. “I need to tell Jimin.”

Ana takes a tense breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

But you don’t listen, just like you didn’t after your talk. “I’m not expecting anything out of it so it’d be okay either way, then I can move on at last.”

She shakes her head disapprovingly. “Y/N, no, you don’t know how he’s gonna react! He’s not some rando you happen to stumble upon the same bar four nights a week. He’s your best friend with whom you live together. If things head south, it wouldn’t be as simple as just changing your hangout spot to avoid him! He’s always gonna be there.”

Her words sound ominous and, more frighteningly, reasonable, slightly wavering your resolve but you don’t back down just yet, turning a blind eye to the worst possible outcome even if the chances of that happening are so much more than the opposite. “It’s Jimin, no matter what happens between us, we always have managed to work through it.”

Ana sighs, eyes sad as she stares at you, once again having to fight her way through to make you see reason. “Honey, this is not as simple as him stealing your cereal…”

You swallow the lump in your throat, stubbornly refusing to let it go. “Yeah, but what if-”

“There’s no “what if” Y/N!” Ana lashes out, eyes wide half with irritation half with concern as both you and Seokjin are left to simply stare at her. “There’s no way to tell if he’s feeling the same and he’s currently dating Dinah, who he’s happy with! All you’re gonna achieve now is getting him all confused and uncertain. Do you realize how that may affect your friendship afterwards? Do you really wanna jeopardize what you have over a “what if”?” Ana’s rant is over and finally, you can’t hide behind your finger anymore as her words echo in your mind. Although there’s a large part of you that wishes to deny it, you admit with a heavy heart she is right.

You can’t tell Jimin. Not right now.

You bite your lip as you avert your eyes, trying to suppress your tears as you shake your head, to show you finally see reason. Even if it hurts like hell.

Ana sighs, regret filling her otherwise soft voice. “I’m sorry for being so blunt, if the situation was any different I would be right there with you, being the first to support you in your decision to tell him. But it’s not. And I just don’t want to see either of you getting hurt…” she confesses, as she reaches her hand out to tentatively cover your own.

You let her as you swallow the lump in your throat. The one that makes you feel like you’re drowning.

“I have to agree with Ana on this… I think it will be for the best if you didn’t tell him for now. But whatever you decide to do…. We’ll support you…” Seokjin adds with tender words, that Ana nods furiously to agree with, as he squeezes gently your other hand.

A sad smile manages to find its way onto your lips as you give them both a gentle and thankful glance.

“Thank you, guys…” your voice is barely audible. Then you shake your head, blinking the tears away and slap your cheeks to get rid of the choking in your throat.

“Okay, enough of this. Let’s go back to what we actually came here to do!” you exclaim with a smile and Ana and Seokjin smile back as they open their notebooks once more.

You might be going through a heartbreak but at least for now, you’ll be fine.

.

.

After that conversation, Ana and Seokjin took it upon themselves to help you find someone else, even if you told them a thousand times you weren’t interested.

Ana proposed Seokjin could give Namjoon your number but Seokjin was quick to inform you he was currently seeing someone. Ana tried to hook you up with a work friend but to be honest, there really was no spark with Youngjae so you gave up on that fairly easily. But there’s this guy you see a few times a week at your favourite coffee shop and just a few days ago he approached you asking for your number. At first, you were hesitant to give it but you knew Ana and Seokjin were right on the whole dating thing. If you want to get over Jimin, you need to give another person a chance. So you gave your number to Jaehyun and now, a week later after your talk with Ana and Seokjin, just two days before Christmas, you’re getting ready for your date. Seokjin had suggested you had the date at his restaurant and the probability of being somewhere familiar, somewhere comfortable was like music to your ears.

In the meantime, your avoidance of Jimin hasn’t subsided. There are moments when you think he’s on to you, or that he thinks something’s weird but whenever he tries to bring it up, Seokjin or Ana or your disappearance halt him.

The truth is you hate it. It feels awful to avoid your best friend, it’s horrible pretending as if you don’t see the hurt in his eyes when you dismiss him. But you don’t trust yourself enough to not spill anything to him yet. And Ana was right, you can’t afford to risk it.

So that’s your plan for as long as needed. Avoid, avoid, avoid.

Although when the front door closes with a loud bang, you have a feeling it’s not gonna be that easy today. Hoseok’s over at Ana’s as she promised to keep him there to give you and Jaehyun some privacy. So the only other possible explanation is Jimin returning earlier from his date.

You peak out of your bedroom to see him marching down the hall. His eyes stare stubbornly, intensely at the floor as if they try to burn holes through the carpet as his heavy steps boom through the apartment. That vein in his forehead is pulsing, threatening to burst at any moment, his lips pulled into an angry frown as he takes off his jacket. He tries to rip it off with hasty movements as if it’s something tangled to him, choking him.

“Jimin, is everything okay…?” you ask cautiously as he still struggles with his jacket in front of his bedroom.

He curses through clenched teeth, ripping the jacket off his hand with one sharp movement. “Yeap. Everything’s okay. More than okay! Perfect! Everything’s perfect!” he exclaims, even though the irony in his voice doesn’t do much to convince you.

“...Do… you wanna talk about it?” your voice is careful, wishing quite selfishly and guiltily he doesn’t, because you know if he does want, there’s no chance you’ll be able to deny him, date or no date. 

He huffs before searching for his phone. “What’s there to talk about? That my girlfriend is a successful doctor that apparently gets paged in the middle of our date? That children need her and I can't complain? That I’m searching for my phone and I can’t fucking find it?!” he bursts before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Your stomach flips uncomfortably in response to the hurt hiding in Jimin's eyes. His face is filled with worries, marking the space between his eyebrows and you want to smooth your thumb over the lines. Your chest constricts in a bothersome matter when you spot his glassy eyes. It’s not an image you like to see on him.

So, against your better judgement, you do what you’ve tried so long not to.

You talk to him.

“You’re not a bad person for feeling angry. As long as you don’t put the blame on her you’re okay. It’s normal. You just want to spend some time with your girlfriend…” you respond, trying to hide the sadness colouring your voice at the word “girlfriend”, as you walk out of your room into the hallway to talk properly to your friend.

His eyes, filled with something akin to shame, find yours and you wanna wipe that frown from his lips with yours.

But you control yourself. You’re not an animal.

“Also, check your jacket…” you point at the article of clothing with a soft smile, and as he follows your advice, he gives you a small, closed-lip smile. But it’s still a smile.

With a tired chuckle, he finds his phone in one of the pockets and shakes his head before his eyes find yours. Although as they land on your form, the chuckle fades out, confusion written on his skin.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asks, pointing to the mini black dress you’re wearing and sudden heat scorches through your cheeks.

“I, uhm… Yeah, on a date…” you chuckle nervously, rubbing your arm, eyes on your feet. “Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m going, the guy’s too hot for me…” you try to joke but Jimin has none of it.

“Bullshit, you’re too hot for him! You always do that, you put yourself down, thinking you’re not good enough, but Y/N, they’re not good enough for you! You’re amazing, funny, smart, kind and, yeah, sometimes grumpy as hell, but you deserve more than feeling like one of someone’s many choices. You’re the only one. So treat yourself like one as well.” Jimin interjects, voice serious and kinda fed up but his last words soften. He looks at you with such tenderness you can almost pretend he feels the same. You can almost pretend he wants you too.

Almost.

You clear your throat. “Thanks, sport…” you respond with a chuckle, trying to chase the tension away, but Jimin’s eyes won’t budge. They seem uncertain as if he’s trying to figure out something, but their intensity only tortures you more and you have to say something to break free from them.

“Uhm, yeah so I have to go now…” you move back to your room to get your purse and coat and Jimin’s eyes finally move away from you with a cough.

“Yeah, uhm… Yeah, of course…” he rushes to say, eyes fidgeting anywhere but close to you as he struggles to open his door.

“...Unless you want me to cancel?” you propose, knowing full well if he says yes, there’s no way you can say no to him. And that Ana is probably gonna beat your ass.

Jimin almost chokes at that, face flushing, turning his body towards you yet his eyes look at the floor. “What? Why? Why would I want you to cancel?” he stutters, eyes fidgeting between you and his door.

“Well, I figured you’d want to talk some more about Dinah…” you say softly, thinking you must have hit a nerve on his pride but he visibly relaxes at your words.

“Oh, uhm, no, don't worry about it, I’ll be fine. Go enjoy your date, and say hi to Seokjin from me,” he responds with a smile, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

But before you get to ask him if he’s sure, or how he knows the date is at Seokjin’s restaurant, he’s already hiding in his room, behind his closed door.

You sigh. Maybe he wants to be alone. To be alone and think it over by himself. Yeah, he’ll be okay.

You don’t do a good job of convincing yourself as you put on your coat and walk to the front door.

He’ll be fine.

.

.

20 minutes later, you find your way back into the apartment, throwing your keys on the glass bowl next to the door, taking your shoes off in front of a very confused and suspicious Jimin who watches a movie on the couch.

You take off your coat and plop yourself down next to him, as he keeps on watching you weirdly.

You pick up some of his popcorn, before. “What are we watching?”

Jimin presses his lips together in a poor attempt to conceal the grin threatening to spill all over his lips before he schools his face into a strict expression. “I told you I’d be okay…”

Your eyes are glued to the TV as you feign ignorance. “I know. And I didn’t bail out on him. He did,” you said, sudden interest in the movie piqued.

Jimin’s eyes widen, shuffling on his spot with newly found vigour. “What? You want me to talk to him for you?”

That takes you by surprise. You turn to look at him only to see his eyes stuck to you, as serious as ever. Does he even know Jaehyun?

Oh god, he shouldn’t talk to him.

“Ah, no, no, he didn’t do it on purpose! He just… had somewhere to go. We’ll just reschedule,” you reply knowing full well you’re not gonna do that.

Even if Jaehyun was entirely too eager to do that when you told him you had a family emergency.

Truth is you didn’t drive too far before you yielded and texted Jaehyun to cancel. Thinking Jimin would’ve been stuck at home alone and sulking didn’t sit well with you.

Jimin’s suspiciousness doesn’t leave his eyes but he visibly relaxes. “Oh, if you’re okay then…” he simply says before his smile reappears. Then he goes on to answer your previous question, informing you about the movie playing in the background.

You rest your chin on your palm as you listen to him intently. Absorbed by the excitement in his voice, the glint in his eyes as he explains the plot to a movie he clearly enjoys. His cheeks are flushed, heated up by how quickly he’s talking, voice melodic and excited. His hair falls on top of his forehead, messy and shiny, moving slightly with every tilt of his head when he’s thinking over something. His lips form a pout when he’s uncertain over a specific detail but the truth is you don’t care.

Not about the movie.

.

.

It’s towards the end of the movie when you feel Jimin turning towards you.

You copy his actions, turning to face your best friend with a questioning glint in your eyes. “Spill it out, champ.”

Jimin smiles at your words, resting one arm at the back of the couch, behind you. “I just wanted to thank you for staying-”

You gasp, once again pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. “I told you the date got cancelled, I had to come back! Didn’t you listen, you dingus?”

Jimin’s smile widens, looking away with a low chuckle. “Right…” he says, though not looking very much convinced. “Even so… you being here means a lot, so thank you…” he concludes with soft eyes, a kind of tenderness you’re not used to seeing reflecting in his gaze, at least not directed towards you. But it’s not foreign, not even one bit.

A gentle smile graces your lips as you answer. “Of course. You’re my best friend,” you respond in an as-a-matter-of-fact way while you give him a playful nudge on the ribs.

He chuckles, eyes falling to his lap. “You know, I might be joking about regretting being your friend when you annoy the shit out of me…” you both laugh at that, as you shuffle in your spot, “but if I’m grateful for anything in my life is the years you’ve been a part of it. I wouldn’t risk our friendship for anything. You’re the best friend I could ever have and I hope I’m at least half as good a friend to you,” he concludes, words filled with emotion, even though his voice is serene and soothing.

The display of emotion tugs at your heartstrings but when it’s your turn to return them words fail you. You can’t even begin to put what Jimin means to you into words, newly-discovered feelings put aside. What his friendship means to you, what those years spent together made you cope through and how they changed you, those things are bigger than the strict barrier of words.

So, you do what every self-respected awkward human being would do.

You joke about it.

“Did you swallow a Barbie DVD or something? Where did that come from?” you chuckle in borderline embarrassment, as you try to get off the couch.

“No, Y/N, I’m serious,” he reacts, voice stern as he rests his palm on your leg to stop you from leaving. 

Though both pairs of eyes widen at that.

Because you never changed out from the mini black dress and when you moved earlier the fabric had ridden up your thighs.

So now Jimin’s palm lays on the top part of your smooth, bare thigh.

Instant heat washes over you, as you barely manage to mask the gasp bubbling up in your throat. Your eyes fall to his fingers, not daring to meet his gaze as you feel the warmth of his skin spreading through to yours.

Your heart beats wildly inside your chest and there’s a certain, familiar discomfort in the pit of your stomach.

He doesn’t move his hand. You can feel his eyes on you and there are goosebumps where his gaze trails on your skin.

You let your eyes find his own.

You’re not at all ready.

Not for the darkness in them, not for the haziness and tension, certainly not for the dark part in you that tells you there’s more to them than those things. No, not for the intensity and lust hidden in their dark depths.

No, you’re not ready.

But their existence is as tangible as it could ever be.

You can’t move, not an inch and even if you could, you wouldn’t. You’d choose not to. The heat in his stare sends chills down your arms, your cheeks scorching and your gaze falls to his plump lips, a sharp yet quiet inhale escaping you at just a small peek of his tongue.

And then you swear you feel-.

“Sup, guys? How have you been?” Hoseok’s voice fills the apartment as he steps inside from the front door. The sound of his cheerful entrance has you both instantly jumping away from each other in panic.

“Uhm, fine, we’ve been fine!” you struggle to reply, voice an octave higher as Jimin looks away and nods with you.

Hoseok takes off his shoes nonchalantly, not having a single clue about the thick tension in the air when he notices your outfit. He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “Did you go somewhere?”

You swallow nervously, foot tapping the floor. “Ah, yeah, I had a date…”

Hoseok looks ever more confused now for some unknown reason. “You did?” he asks, eyes moving to Jimin.

Jimin rushes to explain. “It got cancelled.”

“Ah… I see,” Hoseok replies as if somehow this makes more sense.

But you’re too preoccupied with Jimin’s proximity to question Hoseok’s reaction, instead focusing on trying to appear calm and not at all flustered and worked up as you are. You stand up from the couch as calmly as you can. Though you admit it’s not very much calmly. “Uh, yeah, so anyways I should go change. Goodnight guys!” you mumble quickly, eager to escape and you run off to your room.

Hoseok’s confusion is back when you disappear into your room and he turns to Jimin who also gets up and discreetly readjusts his pants. “What’s up with her?”

“Wouldn’t know. Actually, I’m quite sleepy too, so goodnight!” Jimin rushes to exclaim and then he’s off, walking rushedly towards his room.

Leaving Hoseok alone in the living room and baffled as hell.

.

.

Your legs can’t take you into your bedroom any faster and you rush to close the door with a slight lightness of breath.

Oh, god.

What just happened?

Your knees still feel weak, legs trembling and you immediately sit on the floor. Not trusting your limbs to carry you as far as your bed is, eyes and mouth wide in shock as you bring your hands to cool your heated cheeks.

You’re not crazy, you couldn’t have imagined this. You swear it wasn’t just your wishful thinking. No matter how much you want this, there’s no way your mind could have imagined such an intense way of staring. His eyes seemed like black holes, swallowing you whole and you would’ve gladly let him if Hoseok hadn’t interrupted.

Which reminds you. Right before Hoseok walked in you’re certain you felt the edges of his fingertips moving. And not away, as if belatedly realizing of his slip up.

Moving upwards.

“Fuck…” is your breathless realization, biting your lip as heat pools between your thighs. Making you reminisce of your little rendez-vous eight months ago and all the ways he made you feel, of how he felt pressed against you, inside you, drawing moans out of your lips as if it was the last thing he’d ever do.

How his mouth felt against your skin.

You slap some sense into yourself.

No! What were you thinking?! What was he thinking?! He has a girlfriend! A girlfriend whose sudden departure had him feeling upset merely hours ago. Maybe this behaviour was just a cry for attention caused by this event and you shouldn’t encourage it.

There was attraction, that is true. If there wasn’t any attraction between the two of you, you wouldn’t have slept together all those months ago in the first place. But this is not the time, nor the place. Not when he has a girlfriend and not when your feelings are so much more than just that.

It’s bad news and you gotta do your best to nip it in the bud. Crush it before the frustration gets any stronger and threatens to take hold of your sanity.

You let a deep breath infiltrate your lungs. As if the fresh air could bring a new sense of logic, resolve and determination to help you get through this unscathed.

You get up off the floor to get ready for sleep.

.

.

Only, it’s close to 4 am and you still can’t sleep.

You fuss around in your bed, the rustling of the sheets the only sound breaking the otherwise calm serenity of your dark bedroom.

You huff in annoyance, throwing the covers off of you, suddenly too warm for your liking. You’ve been trying to sleep for three hours now, but instead of blissful numbness, when your eyes close your mind is filled with the look in Jimin’s eyes from this afternoon. Turning you on despite your best efforts.

You sit up, back on your headboard, hands crossing over your chest as you tap your fingers on your arm. The shorts you wear to sleep feel uncomfortably stifling with sweat and you shuffle quickly out of them.

Only a particular movement has you clenching your thighs from the pleasurable friction on your clit and you bite your lip to keep the moan from spilling out.

Jimin’s dark eyes come to mind once more.

You inhale deeply, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, now dressed in only that and your panties. You bite your lip once more in thought and concealed shame.

You shouldn’t.

But your inhibitions don’t stop you from recalling that night.

{{You throw another shot down with a blissful smile as you watch Jimin do the same, only with significantly less enthusiasm than you. It’s already been one hour since you’ve been here, drinking your guts to help him move on, and already two girls walked away from him. It might be the way he slouches on the bar, droopy face that screams “recently dumped and still in love” but you refuse to leave here tonight without Jimin getting laid. Or at least having some fun.

“Come on, I’m sure someone else will approach you!” you nudge him playfully and Jimin scoffs as he proceeds to order another drink.

“Yeah, right. If anything I’ll just make a fool of myself again…” he grumbles, eyes focused on the empty shot glasses on the bar.

You throw an arm around his shoulders, determined to cheer him up. “Well, it’s because you’ve gotten rusty, bud! Give it some time, you’ll get better!” you observe vigorously, poking his cheek but the gloom expression doesn’t abandon him.

“I don’t think I will…” he mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear, but you do.

“What? Why?” your perplexion is audible in your words and Jimin lets out a breath.

“I just… I don’t get why would anyone bother to approach me. What’s there to like anyway…?” he admits quietly. His eyes avoid yours but you can see the sorrow, the defeat lacing their edges. The response fills you with unbridled rage over how her insistent verbal abuse has seeped into his mind and made him question himself and his worth like this.}}

Even now, that rage hasn’t subsided completely, finding yourself getting pissed at how much his previous relationship with Dinah had ruined him.

{{“Follow me for a second,” you say through gritted teeth as you drag him out of his stool to a more quiet place of the bar.

You step into the hallway that leads to the rooftop with a pretty begrudging Jimin trailing after you. The corridor is currently devoid of people, hence rendering it the perfect spot for what you're about to say.

“Why are we here?” Jimin asks like a weary teenager, crossing his arms on his chest as he rests his body on the wall.

“We’re here because you’re a freaking idiot and people would’ve probably stared if I laid it on you back there! You seriously cannot believe there’s nothing likeable about you!” you scold him with your hands on your waist.

Jimin’s eyes fall to his shoes, a pout forming on his lips.

“Well, there isn’t…” he responds genuinely and you swear you’re gonna swat him with a broom.

“Well, better buckle up soldier ‘cause I’m about to send your princely ass to confidence town,” you declare with ferocity and Jimin regards you with a confused but amused smile.

“So am I a soldier or a prince, I’m confused.”

“You’re both, you’re a prince who served on the front line in the dragon war,” you respond, deciding to humour him, seeing at least that brings a smile back on his lips.

“Is that from your book?” he asks back, a very carefully-hidden smirk gracing his face.

“No, it’s not, I- Hey!” you stop once you realize what he’s been doing, “Stop distracting me! Now stop and listen to me you bastard!” you point your finger at him and his smile shows he’s not in the least sorry.

“People go crazy about you everywhere you go! Seriously you’re the most likeable person I know, I could see that even back in high school when we didn’t hang out as much! You’re just… You’re the most perfect human being ever!” you exclaim with zeal, desperate to make your best friend see himself as you do.

Jimin shakes his head even if a small blush starts to bloom on his cheeks. “Now you’re just messing with me…”

“No I’m not!” you interject, taking a step closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “You’re the kindest and smartest, I mean you passed your college exams with flying colours!” a shy smile graces his lips at that, “And on top of that, you’re so handsome! I mean look at your lips dude! People literally pay to get their lips like this!” an impromptu laugh escapes him and resonates in the empty hall, “And the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh is just plain adorable, but on the other hand girls - and guys - would kill to lick those abs, or have a grasp at your pecs,” you cite all of Jimin’s great characteristics, but in your desire to show him how perfect he is, a slight slip of the tongue happens.

“And your thighs-” you begin but instantly stop, regret filling your mind as soon as you realise what you were about to say.

Truth is you always had a weakness for his thighs. You admit, his body is pretty phenomenal as a whole but his thighs, in particular, are a certain weak spot for you. In shame, you admit you fantasized about them trapping you between them more than once.

But, alas, Jimin catches on that and he stands up straight, a questioning look in his eyes.

“What about my thighs…?” he asks curiously, eyes regarding you with interest as they dare you to continue. You swallow nervously and the movement has Jimin’s eyes glint with sudden realization. 

“Um, they… um,” you lose your train of thought as the look in his eyes changes to something darker and he takes a step closer.

“They are...um, toned!...” you say in relief at finding a pretty innocent word but Jimin doesn’t slow down. You take a step back.

“And…?” he demands, not at all satisfied by your explanation, unrelenting and asking for more. He takes another step forward to cover your own, diminishing the distance between you.

“And firm and… sturdy…” you mumble as if in a daze as the predatory glint in his eyes only grows.}}

In real-time, the look in Jimin’s eyes matches the one from earlier tonight and you rub your thighs together for some needed relief.

{{“And…?” he asks, voice low and commanding as he effectively traps you against the wall, palms resting on each side of your face, dark eyes pinning you in place.

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling a sudden emptiness between your legs as your eyes fall to his plump lips.

“And... thick…” you finish softly, breathlessly as your chest moves quickly with each intake of breath, struggling to keep your head straight.}}

Your hands find their way down your body as if they have a mind of their own.

{{“So you like my thighs then…” he whispers, his breath fanning over your lips, a soft gasp rolling off your tongue.

“I- I don’t…” you don’t even manage to convince yourself and the predatory smile returns on his lips.}}

Your hand rests on the hem of your underwear.

{{“Really?... So…” he trails off, smirk ever-present as he slowly moves his right leg. “... it wouldn’t matter if I did this?....” he teases and presses his thigh against your clothed centre.}}

They move the article of clothing aside to press at your aching clit.

{{You don’t manage to conceal the gasp that trudges over to a moan, as his toned muscle presses against your panty-clad clit underneath your skirt. Your hands fly to grab at his biceps and a low chuckle falls from his lips as his face lowers towards your neck.

Your cunt clenches over nothing and your hips buck into his thigh desperately.

“Do you want more…?” he whispers with a tantalizing hum, intimately beneath your ear and a shiver runs down your spine.

You feel his thigh flexing against you as if teasing you about what’s to come if you say yes.

In your drunken and lust infused mind you can’t find a single reason to say no.}}

Your fingers move slowly, rolling the swollen nub between them as a quiet sigh breaks free from your lips, remembering the way his thigh felt against you. Your movements are soft, careful, not wanting to rush it as even more memories flood your mind.

{{It doesn’t take long for Jimin to take you home after you say yes. You drive back in his car, barely keeping your hands to yourself as he drives. It takes all your willpower not to make him stop the car and ride him in the middle of the street. Instead, you only let one hand palm him through his jeans and the other dive beneath your skirt to toy with your folds. Pleasuring both of you at the same time and having Jimin going completely mad with want, a promise hiding in his eyes as he drives.

Once you reach your building, you’re immediately on each other, not caring who might see. You climb up the old stairs in a haze, hands exploring each other’s bodies, grabbing at the tender part, lips tracing the exposed skin until you reach your apartment. Your back hits the front door, a moan rolling off your tongue and Jimin swallows it eagerly as his lips devour yours.

His hands are rough at your hips, grinding his crotch against you, your bare thighs rubbing against the roughness of his jeans as you blindly search for your keys.

“Could you- could you stop for a second and help me get the door…” you mumble against his mouth when your fingers finally grasp at the metallic key in your pocket.

Jimin doesn’t stop kissing you though. “Honestly, I don’t mind fucking you senseless against it,” he growls at you, biting your bottom lip as his fingers dig into your hips.

“Fuck…” the image his words paint arouse you a great deal more than what you’d like to admit. Your head hits the door as the image floods your mind.

“No, we can’t…” you say, still somehow self-conscious, “People might see…” you mumble with closed eyes as Jimin leaves open-mouthed kisses on your collar bones.

“Let them see then…” he responds with confidence as he grips at your chin and forces you to look at him.

His eyes are hooded, completely dark under his heavy gaze on you. He licks his lips as he stares at you like he wants to ravish you and you lean your head down to capture his thumb between your lips.

You stare at him innocently through your eyelashes, sucking the digit into your mouth. Jimin’s eyes widen even more. You roll your tongue teasingly around him, making sure your eyes remain on him, as he breathes heavily and then you let it go with a loud “pop”.

Jimin stares back at you. Tongue running across his bottom lip before-.

“Fuck, okay, okay. I changed my mind. I don’t want anyone seeing you like this but me.” he curses softly, before taking the keys from your hands to open the door.}}

Your fingers are faster now, soft whimpers falling from your lips. Too quiet for anyone to hear as your other hand travels beneath your T-shirt to grasp at your breast.

{{You’re a mess of limbs and kisses as you stumble towards Jimin’s room. Jackets have been discarded somewhere in the living room and you don’t even bother on closing the door. Hoseok’s is bound to spend the evening at Ana’s, so you don’t have to worry about being quiet either. You have the place to yourselves.

“I want to suck you off, can I suck you off?” you mumble between kisses, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. You can’t wait to feel the weight of his length on your tongue and judging by how he’s straining against his jeans you’d say he can’t wait either.

Another curse rolls from his tongue as he rushes to help you undo the last few buttons. “Yes. Fuck yes,” he grunts in anticipation once his shirt is off.

You push him to sit at the edge of his bed, too impatiently. You kneel between his legs, hands running up and down his thighs as he leans back, palms supporting his weight against the mattress as he stares at you lazily, biting his lip.

You let your eyes wander over the expanse of his smooth chest, taking in the sight of his sturdy muscles, his perked up nipples and his sculpted abs. A high pitched whine escapes you at how absolutely perfect he is. You want to ruin him.

Jimin smirks lazily at you. “Like what you see?”

You only nod, licking your lips and indulging yourself.

You move upwards carefully, placing a few butterfly kisses against his chest, letting your tongue roll over his nipples, which he greatly appreciates if his loud moans are anything to get by.}}

You roll one perked nipple beneath your fingertips. A quiet moan comes off your lips in response and you buck your hips into your hand, aching for something more.

{{You move lower, letting your tongue trail the edges of his abs. The warm muscle drives the man insane by the traitorous pace it takes as his chest rises and falls with every breath.

His hand winds up tangled in your hair, threading through the lock to tug softly at the roots and making you groan in arousal.

You’re quick in unbuttoning his jeans, pushing them downwards until they’re off. Anticipation rolls over you in waves as you move to the waistband of his boxers and Jimin tucks some strands away from your face.

You let his cock spring free and it taps against his stomach. Your mouth salivates at the sight. Pulsating veins run down its shaft, its head a pretty pink, tip glistening with precum and you lick your lips with wanton. He’s not very big, not in length, but the size of his girth seems to compensate for that more than enough. He’s thick, thicker than what you’re used to and even if you had some lengthier ones, you’re sure this one will put them all to shame.

Jimin’s patience runs low and a low whine echoes in his dulcet voice.

“Don’t just stare at it…” he mumbles and for the first time since the club, he sounds almost shy. Something which makes your stomach flip in arousal.

A smirk meets his eyes as you lower your head, his hand still in your locks and you take a tentative lick at the tip.

Jimin lets out a shuddering breath, eyes never abandoning you or your movements as you rest your hands at his thighs for leverage. You keep on teasing him, feeling his muscles tense beneath your palms and a crooked smile paints your lips.

You lower your mouth again, taking his head into your wet cavern and a soft moan breaks free from Jimin’s lips. His hand tightens its grip at your hair, nudging softly forward, not enough to be forceful but enough to clue you into what he wants.

Instead, you hollow your cheeks and a sharp gasp escapes him.}}

Finally, you move your underwear aside to tease your entrance and proceed to insert one finger into your throbbing cunt.

{{You begin moving your head up and down his length slowly, torturously and his eyes roll back into his head as it lols back. You don’t increase your pace, letting your jaw adjust to his wide girth, slowly letting each inch delve into your mouth. 

“Fuck…, you-” Jimin tries to talk only for another gasp to tear through his lips as you take him deeper. Coating him with your saliva and hollowing your cheeks again. He moans loudly, his hand rolling your hair into a fist, tugging at the roots as you take him fully, feeling him resting heavily on your tongue.

You pick up the pace steadily, bobbing your head and nails digging into the unmarred skin of his thighs. A hiss tumbles from his mouth in response.

You readjust your position to take off your shirt and bra. You then put more weight into your knees to give your full focus on sucking him off. You keep your cheeks hollowed, going faster and faster, a sturdy grip on Jimin’s bare thighs as your eyes remain stuck on his face.

You swear you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Jimin’s face as he drowns in pleasure. His eyes are tightly shut, scrunched in concentration to not miss the feeling of your mouth on him. His mouth is agape as he struggles to breathe properly, soft gasps escaping his mouth instead.

It strikes you hard; how magnificently ruined he looks. How absolutely wrecked you have him, and the stickiness in your underwear grows knowing he looks like this because of you.

Then he opens his eyes lazily, orbs lost in desire and as they rest on your bare tits, his hips instinctively buck into your mouth with a cry before he stops himself.}}

You take a quick break to stop yourself from finishing too early and instead pay attention back to your clit.

{{“Fuck, stop for a second…” he breathes out harshly, pushing you away from his cock as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Why?” you say thoroughly confused and Jimin chuckles breathlessly at your puppy stare. He then moves forward to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“Cause I was about to cum on your tits and I’d rather do that inside you…” he whispers against your mouth and you find yourself biting your lip to suppress a moan.

“Now please let me taste you…” he mumbles seductively as he forces you up. You stand up in front of him, his head in level with your breasts. His eyes stare up at you, wide and deceptively innocent before he wraps his mouth around one nipple and rolls it with his tongue. You gasp out loud, arching your chest against him for more. His fingers graze your thighs in the meantime, moving upwards to wrap around your underwear and get rid of it, leaving you bare beneath your skirt.

“I don’t…” another gasp interrupts your words as he runs a finger through your folds. “I don’t think I have the patience for that…” you stutter, hips rolling over his fingers.

A harsh suck at your nipple has you crying out loud, grabbing at Jimin’s locks. While he drives two fingers in you, without warning.

“Fuck, Jimin!” your high pitched protest resonates around the apartment and Jimin curses, moving the two fingers slowly inside you.

“Fuck, you take my fingers so well, baby…” he murmurs against your chest, his low timbre sounding like heaven in your ears. His fingers move slowly against your walls, just barely find your g-spot that has you seeing stars.

“You’re so wet, look at you…” he brings the two fingers between you. They glisten in the soft light of his nightstand, strands of your arousal connecting the two digits as he moves them into a V shape. He stares at them, mesmerised before pushing one digit into his mouth. He moans at the taste, before pushing the other finger towards your lips.

Instead, you grasp at both fingers and suck at them obediently, making sure to suck all your slick from his fingers. Your eyes remain on Jimin, whose eyes almost roll in bliss.

“Okay. Fuck, okay. Get that skirt off and get on the bed,” comes his urgent reply as he all but throws you on the mattress after the skirt has joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

You lay across his sheets, spreading your legs wide for him and Jimin all but falls on his face trying to take off his boxers, making you giggle in response.

Once they’re off, his movements are more smooth as he steps on to the bed. His eyes are dark, swimming in a pool of desire, never straying away from your face as he crawls towards you. His hands rest on each side of your head, hips pressing against your own as his eyes fall to your lips.

You’re breathing heavily underneath him, chest brushing against him with every breath and you arch your back to press closer against him.

“Do you have a condom…?” you say before biting softly at his earlobe, your hand wrapping sloppily around his thick length.

He bucks into your palm desperately before he nods. He reaches his hand on his nightstand, never leaving the warmth of your body, and grabs the foil package. You take it from him and rip it open with your teeth, too fucked out to wait and Jimin gapes at you as you pretend not to notice the twitch on his dick.

You roll it on him as he lets out a long breath and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Are you sure about this…?” he asks cautiously, giving you one last chance to step back.

You grab at his neck to push him downwards into a kiss. Your lips are rough against him and he presses further, letting his tongue dive into your mouth to find your own. Your kiss is sloppy, urgent, not caring for tenderness. Getting you even more aroused as Jimin instinctively rolls his hips against yours.

“Okay, got it,” is his answer to your kiss. His hand grasps at his cock and giving it a few pumps before sheathing inside you with one sharp thrust.}}

You let two of your fingers dive inside you at the memory, drawing a long moan, quiet enough to be heard only in the confinements of your own room.

{{Both of you moan loudly at the intrusion, feeling complete and utter fullness with the way Jimin is pulsating inside you. It takes a while to get used to him, breathing slowly to help yourself relax as Jimin presses soft kisses to the skin above your breasts.

Soon though his kisses turn hungrier, messier, bordering into bites and you can’t help but moan and clench at the sensation.

Jimin hisses and reacts with another sharp thrust, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull in pleasure.

He starts a brutal pace, slow but rough deliberate thrusts, moving you further into the bed.

He pushes your legs on your chest in a new position, as he leans on top of you and drives his cock even deeper into you. He hits your g-spot almost repeatedly, having you crying out and your eyes well up by how good it feels.

“Fuck, Jimin, fuck, don’t stop…” you cry breathlessly even though Jimin doesn’t seem like stopping anytime soon.}}

In real-time, you pick up the pace of your fingers, driving them deeper to press against your g-spot, as you keep panting upon your sheets.

{{“Fuck. You. Feel. So. Good.” he punctuates each word with a thrust, as they come out in loud, rough growls, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as precipitation gathers at his temples, wet hair hanging in front of his eyes.

You cry out in ecstasy with every rough snap of his hips, shifting your hips to feel more of him, desperate for as much as he can give.

Then Jimin stands upright, grabbing your legs to push them into his chest and away from your own, wrapping around them and using them as leverage. His movements don't stop and he grunts lowly with each thrust, making you see stars each time he hits your g-spot.

He pants above you, driving his hips deeper into you, his muscles taut as he flexes his thighs and his thrusts become even rougher.

“Shit, Jimin…” you plead yet you don’t know what for as his motions make your body move up and down against the mattress.

“What is it, baby? Tell me,” he hisses, eyes furrowed as he stares at your lips. “I’ll give it to you…” he grunts, his thrusts now matching his pants, hands getting tighter at the supple flesh of your hips.

“Jimin, please…” you whine, driving your hand to tap on your clit to clue him in.

He curses again, bating your hand away for one of his own to land against your nub and begin rubbing circles into it.}}

You remove your other hand from your chest to press at your clit as you drive two fingers harshly into your soaked pussy with the other. You feel your high approaching and you don’t dare stop.

{{You scream in pleasure at the added friction, legs moving as Jimin releases them to wrap around his waist. You drive your heels against his ass to press his cock further into you.

“How are you so fucking wet for me, huh? Did my thighs turn you on this much, baby?” he asks harshly as his fingers pick up their pace, sending you into a wholly new sensation.

You moan out loud at his words, nodding your head quickly as if you’ve gone mad. “Yes, fuck, Jimin. I love your thighs, love how thick they are. Wanna rub my cunt all over them, want my clit to go numb with how hard I rub it on them. Want my folds to leak on top of them and stain your jeans. Fuck!” you yelp when your words have Jimin giving a particularly rough thrust.

“Fuck, yeah baby that’s right. Those thighs are gonna make you cum so fucking hard, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” he hisses from above you, spreading your legs, the stretch burning delightful as another groan falls from your hips.

Finally, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming, high-pitched moans echoing inside the room and your cunt begins clenching uncontrollably.

Jimin realises this as his hips move even harder against yours and his fingers are relentless on your clit. “Are you gonna cum baby? Are you gonna cum like the dirty little slut you are?”

His words send you over the edge with a loud cry of his name.}}

You repeat the words over and over in your head until you’re a sobbing mess and come harder than you ever did before pressing your palm on your mouth to prevent any noise from getting out.

You lay on your bed spent and breathless, the memory ebbing away once you’re satisfied and your limbs are relaxed in a blissful numbness.

But, that soon also ebbs away, giving its spot to shame.

You just rubbed one off to Jimin.

And yeah okay you did sleep with him once, but you hadn’t used the memories to pleasure yourself before.

Oh god, this is getting out of hand.

You gotta end this crush of yours before it devours you.

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: something sad (Resentment)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him.  A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ aka Izuku dies.

Characters:  Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS! Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst, graphic descriptions of violence

Other parts in this AU: (Something Sad),  (Anger), (Grief) 

This is the direct sequel to (Implosion)

......

“Not many people get hit with a concussive blast of this strength and walk away will so few injuries.” Is what the paramedic that looks Katsuki over says, hand glowing a faint blue as he uses some sort of diagnostic quirk.

“It looks like you have a few cuts, bruising, strained muscles and sprained wrist from what I can see. I’d recommend getting a proper examination at the hospital but there’s nothing life-threatening here.” The medic continues.

The emergency doctor at the hospital confirms the diagnosis and shakes his head in disapproval, adding, “…bruising on your ribs and a fractured finger. No concussion, thankfully, but you’ll have a nasty bump on the back of your head. If your quirk didn’t make you naturally resistant to these sorts of shock-based blasts, you would be dead..”

…

After that, everyone is practically falling over each other to lecture him on how irresponsible and reckless he is.

..

His mum arrives and there is a lot of shouting which just pisses him off.

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REACT WHEN I GET WOKEN UP AT ONE IN THE MORNING BY POLICE TELLING ME THAT MY IDIOT SON, WHO SHOULD BE ASLEEP, IS IN HOSPITAL!!”

 “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!

Then there is the quiet disappointment he gets from his father when his mum is done yelling which only fuels his resentment.  

“I don’t understand why you did it son. Did you want to get into that fight? Or was it a mistake? Please. We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Eventually, he finally snaps, “I fucking felt like it! That’s why I did it! And you know what, I’d do it again.”

It wasn’t like he could or even wanted to explain that he’d jumped out his window to wander the streets at midnight because he had had a bad dream and his All Might poster had looked at him funny. That the rage and anger were preferable to that sinking empty feeling that had turned his every waking moment into a pointless repeat of everyday routines and useless interactions.  That every time he let himself pause and reflect, Deku’s stupid smiling face was mocking him from the afterlife.

Next, he spends an hour with Senior Officer Watanabe recounting every possible detail from his stroll through the streets to his climactic fight with Lanky, Tiny and Grease-Hair.

“Well, you definitely don’t do things in half measures kid. So far we have private and public property damage, unlicensed quirk usage, quirk usage with the intent to harm, vigilantly activity, assault...”

“Assault! Why the hell is that on the list. Those bastards started it.”

“You can’t go around beating people up no matter how good your intentions are!”

“So, you wanted me to just watch!”

“Yes!” A long breath, “I know it can be hard but you need to wait for the pros. You got lucky this time but what if things had been different? You had misread the situation. What if you had been badly injured? What if you had accidentally injured the victim or killed someone? There is a reason we make people get a license for Hero work. Seison Masuyama is a B-rank villain.”

“B rank? He wasn’t that strong.”

 “His quirk, Kinetic-Force, collects kinetic energy and releases it in one overpowered attack. It’s deadly to most people. You were lucky he had already used it once that day and that you were resilient enough to withstand it."

After multiple repeats of the ‘you’re lucky you’re not dead,’ with a side order of ‘it’s a good thing you’re still a minor because you could go to jail for this,’ he gets to go home.

It is three in the morning by the time he arrives back at the apartment, two exhausted parents in tow, having been issued an ‘official warning,’ an order to complete 100 hours of community service and instructions to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. He has never felt angrier or more resentful.

A days later and he is back at school, wasting his time watching clocks and avoiding classmates. 

Nothing had changed.

…

…

…

The car screeches to a stop at the school gates, throwing Katsuki forward in his seat. His mum turns to fix him with a stern glare, eyes narrow.

“If you’re not waiting right here by the gate when I come to pick you up or so help me I’ll be escorting you to and from your classroom from the rest of your school life,” she threatens.

“Lay off you old bat,” Katsuki snaps as was becoming routine since his mum had started driving him the short distance to school, “I got it the first million times.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”  A finger is pointed at his nose, waving in an almost menacing fashion. “Remember. Here. School Gates. 4:00pm. Don’t you dare think about ditching again.”

 Katsuki sneers and kicks open the car door, turning to slams it shut with as much force as possible in retaliation. He stalks through the gates, shouldering his way through a group of loitering students.  They all scatter when they recognise him. In some ways, he prefers dealing with the anger and yelling of his mum than his father’s quiet disappointment. That doesn’t stop it from being annoying as hell.

A spike of pain runs through his hand from where he must have used a little too much force on the door. Maybe he should take his father up on those kickboxing classes. Sure, he had practised punching after reading a bunch of online guides, but reading and solo practice were completely different when compared with real actual fighting.  That was assuming he was going to be getting into more real fights.  He opens and closes his bandaged fist, feeling a slight sting in his wrist and fingers. He glares. Four days on and he can still feel the echo of adrenalin.  The thrill of righteous anger had been so much more satisfying than the directionless rage he was accustomed to. It had rekindled some of that fire that drove him to be the best, to win, chasing away the sickening emptiness which had been dogging his every waking step.

He wants to feel that again…He wants to do something other than listlessly go through the same daily motions as he drifts towards his now uncertain future. 

“Hey Bakugō!” 

He keeps walking, ignoring whatever loser classmates wanted to talk to him.

“HEY!”

A hand lands on his shoulder and Katsuki twitches, a hairs breath away from spinning and firing a blast point-blank into the pest’s face. Instead, he stops and deliberately turns to glower at the pathetic piece of trash behind him. Murata Taheiji from his homeroom is standing there, one hand on his hip, flanked by two other boys he doesn’t know the names of. Two more appear to stand in front of him, blocking his way. They are all puffed up like they think they’re hot shit. Katsuki scoffs. Are these failures really trying to bully him? HIM!? 

“How about you get the fuck out of my way and go find a first year to pick on. You know, someone more on your level.”

That gets him an irritated scowl that transforms into a patronising grin, “You were always such a stuck up prick Bakago…Acting so high and mighty all the time. Not anymore, I know the truth. You’re just like the rest of us.”

“Huh?” he drawls, dragging out the sound, turning so he is facing the boy, “What the fuck are you on about.”

“My dad works for Musutafu police dispatch and he told me something real interesting yesterday.” A dramatic pause, “He said that you got arrested a few nights ago.” There is a laugh that is echoed by the four surrounding him. By now the confrontation has garnered the attention of several onlookers, who are slowly drifting closer.

“All that shit about being a Hero and you got arrested. What’d you do? Steal some candy from a convenience store? We all know you don’t have money.”

Around them, the growing audience is eyeing him with varying levels of eager anticipation like they think he’ll break down and start crying because of some dumb-ass insults. Damn, if that doesn’t just piss him off. How dare these losers think him that weak.

“Don’t compare me to your loser selves,” he dismisses aggressively, making to turn and forcefully elbow his way past. He is stopped by Murata’s hand which is still on this shoulder.

“You know what I think. I think you’re all talk.”

Katsuki stills, letting the words sink and curdle in his stomach. In one short move, he turns and steps in close to Murata so they are almost nose to nose.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he warns.  The other boy tenses, looking like he wants to say something else equally stupid. If he remembers correctly Murata has some sort of muscle-enhancer, reflex quirk. One of the only worthwhile quirks in the school.

Katsuki jerks his elbow up and around in a quick jab. It smacks into the loser’s face. Crack. Guess having fast reflexes didn’t make a difference when you never saw the blow coming.

There is a cry of surprised pain and shouts of alarm from the peanut gallery. The other boy falls back, tripping over his own feet. It is ridiculously simple to lift a leg and deliver a kick to the stomach, not even a strong kick, so his failed bully thuds onto the ground, tossing up a small puff of sand. Unlike the fight in the ally, there is no rush of excitement, no spike of anger or adrenaline. No exhilaration. He is just irritated and maybe a bit disappointed. That’s what he gets for expecting anything out of the pathetic losers that went Aldera Middle School. They were more annoying than anything else.  

Murata rolls around in the dirt, wheezing, trying to draw breath. He can almost imagine Deku running up to complain about his violent tendencies or sprout some shit about Hero’s needing to protect people like Murata didn’t ask for it when he decided to try his luck bullying someone obviously stronger than him.

The reminder of Deku sours his already shitty mood.

“Ah…you broke my nose. YOU BOKE IT…ah…it hurts. Do something!” The idiot calls to his equally idiotic friends as he tries to stop blood from pouring down his face.

Katsuki gazes coolly at the boy before directing his attention at the four other ‘bullies’ standing frozen around him.

“You extras got something else to add to that?” With Murata out of the game, the rest of the pathetic group shuffles about uncertainly.

“Ah…we’re good,” The tallest one says nervously, “Sorry about that Bakugō. No hard feelings right?”

He scoffs.

One of the boys moves forward to pull Murata upright, kneeling and pulling out a tissue to help stem the flow of blood. “Crap. I…I think Murata needs to go to the nurse. This looks serious.” There are a few more apprehensive glances in his direction like the other boys think he’ll insist on continuing the ‘fight’-ha! like this has been anything near a fight- until they are all bloody messes on the ground. Kaksuki rolls his eyes. As if he has the patience to deal with any more of these losers.

“Cowards,” he mutters, shoving past. The crowd of students who had gathered to watch the failed confrontation, scramble to get out of his way. A strong breeze rushes through the school’s courtyard, drawing attention to how quiet it has suddenly gotten. Barely audible whispers follow in his wake and he can feel many sets of eyes on his back, watching.

“He always did have a bad attitude.” They murmur.

“Guess he’s a real delinquent now.”

“…did you hear what Murata said. Do you think Bakugō actually got arrested?”

“That’s got to be fake right? Murata is full of hot air.”

“No way. I believe it. You don’t have to share a class with him, I’m telling you, Bakugō’s gone nuts.”

“Kind of scary when you think about it. With a quirk like that...”

He doesn’t know why they’re all so shocked. This isn’t the first fight he has gotten into on school grounds. Okay, so maybe he’d held off doing any real harm before now, well aware that U.A. would probably check his school record. It had never mattered to him because there was no point in beating up weaklings when he was obviously superior. Except for Deku…the only person he had ever really hurt, the only person he could get away with hurting without repercussions. And now he feels like extra shit. God, what a huge farce it had all been. Kaksuki clenches his fist and growls, wondering if it isn’t too late to ditch and go find somewhere secluded to blow off steam. Anything to escape this feeling of frustration.

 He doesn’t have time to make a proper decision because news of his ‘fight’ had obviously spread to the staffroom. One of the second year homeroom teachers comes barrelling out of the school’s front entrance, eyes immediately landing on him.

“What happened!” Their eyes move past him to the bloody Murata, “Go wait in the principles office. Now.”

Well, he didn’t want to deal with his annoying classmates anyway. He stalks away, the sounds of the teacher fussing over Murata growing fainter behind him. When he arrives, the principal’s office is empty and he flings himself down into one of the comfy couches, irritated. The bell for homeroom goes off and Kaksuki remains sprawled across the couch, arm across his face to block out the light and his view of the clock slowly ticking away.  

Just as he begins to contemplate leaving, Principle Fukuhara comes strolling into the room. 

“ Bakugō,” the man lets out an exasperated sigh, “Sit up please.”

Katsuki moves his arm to peek out and glare at the man, deliberately ignoring the instruction.

“I just finished talking to Ms Yuki and the school’s nurse.  You broke Murata Taheiji’s nose. I hope you realise how serious this situation is and that there will be major consequences. Aldera Middle School does not tolerate this sort of violence on its grounds.”

Silence. That was a fucking lie. Slowly, Katsuki pulls himself upright, meeting the man’s hard stare with his own. 

“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself and your disgraceful behaviour..”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, “The idiot was asking for it.”

Obviously, it's the wrong response going by how the skin tightens around the man’s eyes, “I see...I’m sorry you feel that way. Up until now, our school has been more than lenient. We have overlooked your shameful behaviour these last few weeks because we wanted to give you time to settle after going through such as tragic incident. However, I am afraid that this time you have gone too far. Your parents will be notified. You’ll see the school councillor. You will be staying back for after school detention. Since this is your first major incident we…”

“First?” He cuts the man off. He is sick of hearing the moron’s voice. “Hahaha and people say you don’t have a sense of humour.” He laughs an unpleasant laugh which increases in volume until he is almost shouting.

 “What sort of shit hole are you running? Three years I’ve been beating up the dumb idiots that come here and now you decide to care. Why is that huh? Is it because I’m no longer going to put this shitty place on the map and become a famous hero! HA!”

He lets his voice quieten, sneering “I’ll never be a hero so you’re shit out of luck.” Finally saying it out loud is like throwing a bucket of water over the embers of an already struggling fire. It hurts deep in his chest. The expression of shocked disbelief is almost worth it.

“Thanks for proving what a worthless profession it is,” he finishes with another hash laugh, rage simmering under his skin. When he tries to stand and leave a hand lands on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

The principal, who still looks somewhat stunned at his sudden outburst, orders, “Sit back down Bakugō! I am far from finished.”

Why do people always feel the need to grab him. He is so fucking sick of everyone pulling and tugging on him, trying to control him and hold him down. Katsuki turns slowly, that simmering rage pulsing, running down his limbs. Pop pop pop go his hands. He feels as explosive fire gathering in behind his eyes and in his shadowy stare. It is not the dramatic, adrenaline-induced anger he had felt when preparing for the ally fight. No, this is a dark burning rage, fuelled by his growing resentment.

“Touch me again,” he growls, low and intimidating, “and I’ll kill you.”

The principal snatches his hand back like he has just been burnt. A poignant silence follows in the wake of his threat.

“Suspension,” the man says, swallowing,  “You’re suspended. I’m calling your parents right now.” And is it just him or does he look genuinely worried? There is even a hint of fear in his wrinkled face. Katsuki takes vindictive joy in the achievement. Finally…finally the worthless morons are seeing him, truly seeing him and not whatever Bakugō -delusion they’d all cooked up in their heads.

[4stars-uswnt]

Healthy Competition [Tierna Davidson x Reader]

requested by anon: college tierna x ucla reader. 

A/N: i got a lil carried away with this one... also feel free to send in any requests!! :))

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” You pout at your best friend, Mallory Pugh. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I know, (Y/N/N), I’ll miss you too, but this is what’s best for me.”

At that, you’re silent because you know she’s right. Mal was too talented for UCLA and joining the Spirit was her best option. Although there had been speculation of you also going pro, especially after your performance in the U-20 World Cup, you decided to stay at UCLA one final year, hoping to win a national championship.

With one final hug, you say goodbye to Mal, as she enters the airport, departing for Washington DC.

—————

It had been a long and tough season, but with you up on top and Jessie in the middle, UCLA was now about to play in the NCAA championships against Stanford.

While the two schools were not the biggest rivals, your own personal rival played for the Cardinals: Tierna Davidson. She had been your greatest opponent since high school, as the two of you had been in the same division, even facing off in the state championships. Your positions, you being a right forward and her a left back, just added more fuel to the fire. For the past two years, as UCLA and Stanford exchanged wins and losses, the two of you had formed a rivalry, getting under each other’s skins like no one else could. The only times you two would get a long, or at least act pleasant, was when you played for the youth national team.

—————

With the biggest game of your life being only a couple of days away, your nerves were through the roof. You hadn’t been your bubbly self at practice; instead, you were stone cold serious, constantly snapping at your teammates and yelling out directions.

Jessie Fleming, your other best friend, noticing your change in behavior, pulls you aside at a pause in training.

“What, Jess?” You ask, exasperatedly. The younger midfielder takes in your appearance before continuing, noting the dark bags under your eyes and the deep lines in your forehead.

“Are you okay?” You go to open your mouth, but Jessie interrupts you. “And don’t you dare lie to me, (Y/N/N).”

You give a tired and defeated sigh, knowing you could tell your friend what’s been bothering you.

“I’m fine, J. I’ve just been so stressed about this game, you know how it is.” And Jessie did know how it was, not only from personal experience, being only 15 on the Canadian national team, but also from all the publicity this championship game had gotten. Based on the number of articles with your name in the headline she had seen, she knew that had been adding to your stress and affecting both your attitude and your play.

Jessie gives you an understanding look, putting her arm around your shoulder, as practicing was staring up again.

“Look, I know this is a big game for you, I do, but losing sleep over it and stressing about it isn’t gonna help you. And yelling at your teammates definitely isn’t gonna help.” She smirks. “You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and you’re gonna show the whole world who you are and why you’re going number one at next year’s draft.”

Smiling at the last statement, knowing your departure was still a sore subject for the midfielder, you lean your head on her shoulder.

“Thanks, Jessie. I really needed that.”

Jessie give you a smile in response. “Now, let’s get back to practice and get ready to kick Stanford’s ass.”

—————

Jessie’s pep talk had awoken something within you. That practice, you went back to your usual self, leading and working together with your teammates and putting the ball in the back of the net. In fact, you felt at the peak of your game, and your team was working like a well-oiled machine. You were feeling good about Saturday’s game.

—————

Despite the incredible practices you and your team had the days before, as you sit on the bus on the way to the stadium, you can’t contain the nerves that consume you. Jessie, knowing the telling signs of your nerves, the bounce of the knee and the long gaze, staring out the window with your music blaring, pulls out her phone to make a call.

Poking your arm, Jessie holds out her phone. Removing one of your headphones, you give her a puzzled look. Instead of an explanation, the midfielder just shakes her phone, waiting for you to take it. You hesitantly grab it, putting it up to your ear.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N),” You immediately recognize the scolding voice to be that of Mallory Pugh. Your eyes widen, turning to a smirking Jessie Fleming, not believing your friend had basically tattled on you to your other best friend. “You better get out of that head of yours and stop worrying about other people and what they’ll say or think of you. Just concentrate on what you can control, okay? You and the team have worked all season long to get to this point, so just go out there and do what you do best.” Mal continues her pep talk.

Nodding along to your best friend, you gain more and more confidence. “Thanks, Mal.”

“Of course, (Y/N/N). And know that win or lose, you’re still my best friend, and you’re a winner in my eyes.”

You roll your eyes at the cheesiness of her words, even though you secretly love it. “So you’re gonna be watching?” You ask sheepishly.

“OF COURSE!” Mal screams, and you have to pull the phone away from your ear due to the volume. “Do you think I’d miss my best friend win a championship?!”

You tuck your head in embarrassment. “We haven’t won yet.” You mumble, not wanting your best friend to get her hopes up, and more importantly, not wanting to let her down.

“Well, yeah, but I believe in you.” You can practically see Mal smiling through the phone.

“Thanks, Mal. It means a lot.”

“Of course. Look, I gotta run, but I’ll be watching!” You got to end the call, but before you can, you hear Mal’s voice one last time. “Wait! One last thing: don’t get too distracted by Davidson either.”

As Mal hangs up, your cheeks flush, and you hand Jessie’s phone back to her without meeting her eyes, knowing the younger girl had heard the last bit of your conversation.

Although you and Tierna had been rivals, you couldn’t help but developing a crush on the defender. The way she challenged you both on and off the field not only infuriated you, but it also attracted you to her. When you weren’t competing against her, you admired her play and the way she stayed composed no matter the situation. Though the media pitted the two of you against each other, it was hard for you to hate her, as she was probably the kindest person on earth, off the field that is.

“Mal teasing you about your little crush again?” Jessie gives you a cheeky smile.

“I don’t have a crush.” You grumble.

Jessie laughs in disbelief. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

You go to protest, but your friend is already getting up from her seat, as the bus comes to a stop. Jessie turns back to you. “We can talk about this later, but right now we have a game to win.”

You nod in all seriousness, forgetting about your nonexistent crush.

—————

It was about thirty minutes into the first half when Jessie slipped you a through ball, right past the outstretched foot of Tierna. With one touch, you set up your shot just inside the eighteen. To say your shot was an absolute beauty would be an understatement, as it curved around the goalie, perfectly place in the upper right corner.

Throwing your hands up in the air, you feel Jessie crashing into you. Pulling the midfielder into a hug, you have an ear splitting grin across your face. You celebrate with the rest of your teammates with more hugs and high fives. Before making your way back to the center circle, you pass the blonde defender, giving her a smirk and a wink.

“Better luck next time, Davidson.”

Although clearly frustrated, Tierna playfully rolls her eyes at your antics. “You’ll be lucky if there is a next time, (Y/L/N).”

You chuckle under your breath, as you jog away from her, ignoring the the butterflies in your stomach.

The first half came to an end, your lone goal being the only notable action.

As you were heading to the locker room, you could feel a certain blonde staring at you from across the field. The two of you lock eyes, Tierna giving you a small smile. You return a smile, the butterflies returning.

Jessie pulls you out of your daze, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, guiding you towards the locker room.

“C’mon Romeo, we’ve still got another half before you can go suck face with your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” You mumble.

—————

The beginning of the second half was pretty uneventful, until the Stanford freshman, Sophie Smith, broke through your back line. You could only watch, as she slipped a shot past your goalkeeper. Putting your hands on your knees, you hang your head, as the opposing team celebrates.

Jessie comes up behind you, patting your back. “C’mon, cap, there’s still plenty of time left in this game, and it’s only 1-1.” Recollecting yourself, you tap the ball forward, restarting the game.

—————

It was around the seventieth minute when you received a diagonal ball out on the right wing. Dribbling towards the corner, you looked up to the box, noticing Jessie had beaten her defender in the box. You take a long touch, hoping to out run Tierna. Getting to the ball first, you go to send the cross in, not noticing the blonde defender sliding in beneath you.

Despite making contact with the ball, effectively knocking it out of play, Tierna had also clipped your ankle. The tackle caused you to fall to the ground, grabbing your ankle in pain.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to contain your tears but with no success, as the pain is overbearing. You roll over onto your side, trying to distract yourself. Tierna kneels down next to you, wiping your hair from your face.

“(Y/N), you with me?” She gently grabs your hand.

You open your eyes, tears spilling down your face, and see Tierna with a worried look in her eyes.

“Had to injure me to win, Tierna?” You attempt to give her a cheeky grin, but you wince, as your ankle throbs.

She manages a small smile at your playfulness, even in pain. “The medical team is on their way.” Tierna squeezes your hand before getting up and letting your teammates and the trainers check up on you.

The trainers ask you a bunch of questions, and you affirm that you did hear a pop in your ankle. With the help of Jessie and one of the medical staff members, you limp off the field to the applause of the crowd. As you make your way back towards the locker room, you notice Tierna still glancing in your direction. Her eyebrows furrow, silently questioning if you’re okay. Although you were in an immense amount of pain and frustrated you couldn’t continue playing, you smile and throw her a thumbs up, not wanting to make her anymore guilty than she probably already feels.

—————

You laid back, as the trainer evaluated your ankle, moving it in different directions despite your grimaces and protests. Stuck back in the locker room, you were forced to watch the rest of the game on the monitor.

Holding your breath, you watch as Stanford takes a corner kick in the eighty-seventh minute. The ball knocks around in front of the goal, and you’re unable to see who kicks it in, but somehow the ball ends up in the back of the net, putting them ahead 2-1 with only a couple minutes left. You shut your eyes in disappointment, a fresh wave of tears overcoming with you. You barely register the trainer trying to get your attention, until he repeats your name once more.

“(Y/N),” He starts with a sympathetic look. “It looks like you completely tore one of the ligaments in your ankle and partially tore another. We’ll take you to get an MRI tomorrow just to clarify.”

You put your hands in your face, crushed from the disappointment of losing your final college game along with your injury. A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Removing your hands, you see Tierna Davidson peeking through the cracked open door.

The trainer gives you the details of your MRI appointment before exiting, leaving you and Tierna alone in the room.

Tierna comes to sit on the edge of treatment table, placing her hand on top of yours.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You sigh. The two of you sit in silence, not really know what to say.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). It was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt you at all. If I had known I would’ve clipped your ankle, I wouldn’t have—“

“Tierna.” You intertwine your fingers, interrupting her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Like you said, it was an accident. It’s part of the game.” You give her a reassuring smile. You laugh half-heartedly, “I’m more disappointed about the loss.”

Tierna doesn’t really know what to say at that, knowing there’s nothing she can say to make you feel better. You and her stay like that, with your hands together, for a couple of minutes, before Tierna once again breaks the silence.

“I have something to tell you.” She whispers. You watch her intently, moving to sit up.

The defender takes a deep breath before continuing. “I like you. I really like you. I have for a while now, and I know we’re always competing against each other, but there’s just something about you. And now that we’re not technically rivals or anything, with both of us going to NWSL, and hopefully the national team, maybe I could take you on a date sometime?”

You remain quiet, still processing the other woman’s confession that turned into a mini rant. Not really knowing what to say, you grab her face and pull her in for a kiss. Your lips melt together, and before you can deepen the kiss, Jessie bursts through the door.

“(Y/N), how are you— OH! Oh my gosh. I am so sorry! I’ll just go. Let me know when I can come in. I’ll just— sorry. Bye.” Jessie interrupts, before realizing what she’d walked in on, stumbling backwards out the door.

You giggle at you friend, resting your forehead against Tierna. She reaches her hand up to brush your baby hairs out of your eyes.

“So, about that date?”

You frown slightly. “Well, I’m a little incapacitated at the moment.” She rubs your noses together and then places a kiss on your cheek.

“That’s okay. I’m fine with anything as long as I’m with you.” Tierna gives you a cheeky smile.

Your heart swells at her corniness. “Me too.” You hum in agreement.

“So no more rivalry?” She asks, almost rhetorically.

You smirk. “Mmmm. I dunno about that. I’m still going number one in the draft.”

Tierna playfully growls at you before pulling you into another kiss. Laughing, you can’t help but feel grateful for the rivalry between you and the defender.

And what’s a good relationship without some healthy competition?

[cherripeach]

Chapter 1

Little Match Maker

Summary: Your life motto is "I have the power of god and anime on my side, don't mess with me," and you stand by that with your life. No human, magician, or random creature could ever stop your firm belief in it.  

However, getting transported to this world that seemed to turn your already bad luck worse was not what you wanted to be in your life story, but you made the most of it.Making friends, enemies, and disasters, you were in your prime in this world, and so you decided to help as many people as you could flourish, at least what you believed to be.

Prologue 1-2: Is this a kidnapping?

Chapter Summary: Waking up in a coffin is a great way to spend your day! Don't even ask about the sus masked man and creepy cat.

Words: 3.5k

Relationships: Developing as of now, but future twisted character/reader

Warning: Curse words, jokes about death because lack of fear of danger, joke about Crowley being mentally insane, low-key sex jokes, self deprecating humor, (If I missed anything, please tell me)

Covered in darkness, you were stuck in a small, somewhat squared space. It seemed like today was not your day, but you did get a lot of sleep, you assume. You reached out to every side to make sure that there was no opening or latch that you just could not see. While you were reaching around for something, all the sudden you heard an old creaky door open. Apparently, you were supposedly in a bigger room if this large box containing you could fit in it.

“Was I... kidnapped…?” You could have never guessed this would happen, and you always thought they would be too annoyed with you to actually keep you, “but I’m not a kid.”

It seemed that really nothing would ever go your way because immediately after you affirm your belief that you would not be someone good to kidnap a much greater voice entered the room, and so you stopped your mind to process the words being said, “...lid is too heavy.. Time for my secret move!”

Confusion seemed to radiate off of you at that line, at least, until there was a sharp thud to whatever you were in. But after the thud was a second of calm; nothing happened, no footsteps were heard, and no one spoke. Yet suddenly instead of a loud thud there was slowly heat entering the area you were in. The heat began to engulf the box around you, and soon you could see the bright blue flames eating everything up. In your desperation and in your brain’s rush of survival skills, your mind freaked and decided to take control of your body to both scream and kick the front of this box. The door or whatever of the box spasmed when your kick hit it and your body threw itself up from the heat located in the now black box that looked really much like a coffin. Your observations on where you were ended quickly when you saw a little being running to you. The creature looked like a weird cat mix between a fox or something, but the fact that it was running on its back legs really threw you off. The creature stared at you after you stopped your evaluation of this strange being, and he panicked much like your previous actions.

“wHY aRe yOu up?” the creature could never seem to stop mumbling to themself you learned, and you only heard his last phrase before you could process the rest.

“Wow, the CGI on you is amazing!” This place seemed to be like a living breathing set from your assumption because no kidnapping could ever be as odd and elegant as this place. You always assumed that whenever someone gets kidnapped they would wake up in an abandoned warehouse tied to a wooden chair and men with weapons would come in and interrogate the kid. Waking up in a coffin is not how a kidnapping should happen. Anyway, the cat just seemed as stunned as you and stopped his motions.

“CGAI?? What are you talking about? I am the Great Grim,” the cat bounced back awfully quick after your so-called rude statement to him, “Now give me your clothes, human! Otherwise,... I’ll roast ya.” This “Great Grim” seemed to have quite the ego to think that you would strip for him. He even puffed out his chest throughout his speech and put his paws on his hips.

“Ah ah, no way am I stripping without you giving me money.” You would not be stopped or told to do anything by a little creature that in your eyes could not hurt you.

However, the creature could not swallow your lack of obedience or the words that came out of your mouth, so he in all honesty started to attack you with this “CGI blue fire” again. He acted a lot more like an arrogant child than an arrogant child would act. He even screams something about him being “The Great Grim” again before he gets closer to you. Once he got close to your personal bubble, you decided to see if the fire really was the claimed hottest fire in the world because of its color. You reached out and basically grabbed the fire with an open hand and left it there letting your mind pend what was going on around you, and immediately your brain and its nerves picked up on the pain in your hand. Not believing your nerves, you kept your hand there for another second and pulled it away to look at it, only to notice that the skin on some of your hand was distinguishably different from the rest of your hand. Your mind paused, and you snorted at yourself while you observed your hand and slowly turned around and sprinted from the creature that was gaining on you while you stood there gazing at your hand.

This set or whatever had very real effects as seen by the cat that was continuing to chase you and scream for you to give him your uniform or something and by the bright blue flame. It didn’t just look cool but it also hurt and in your book that’s amazing! The world of CGI and effects really have changed, and wherever and whenever you are, they are way ahead of their time.

Your running from the cat never seemed to stop and you passed tons of weird areas. There was a little classroom, a weird well, and some odd architecture but overall this set was ‘set to perfection.’

You decided to go into the next room you saw to see if this set continued or had any more different scenes, and so you went into this library with tons of floating books. When entering, you noticed that the cat creature was still behind you, but you paid it no mind, not willing to listen to the being and continuing to explore this library.

“You really thought you could get away from my nose? Dumb human! Hand over your clothes if you don’t wanna-” The creature really seemed set on your clothing, but another great sound cut him off as he screamed a large “owww” and later only to respond to the previous sound with a “What’s this cord?”

You turned from the books you were observing and saw a tall man with a top hat and a bird mask like a masquerade party. His cloak and whole ensemble appeared to be out of a fairy tale; he looked like a misunderstood villain whose whole family and lover had died in the past and so he turned to evil in order to help himself deal with the pain. He did look somewhat like an asshole though. Not the point though, let’s get on task.

“This is no mere cord. It is a lash of love.” Briefly in your head you thought that this man deserved to be called clinically insane, but at this point that’s just being rude to those who are. The man after he caught the cat by wrapping the cord around the creature turned to you. “Found you at last. Are you one of the new students?”

And in your haze instead of being confused you nodded, so he continued his speech.

“You should not do things like that. Leaving the Gate on your own!” his manner of speaking was almost too flamboyant for you, but right now all you can do is stick with him and get out of this place, “Not only that, you have yet to tame your familiar which has broken a number of school rules.”

Just as confused as seeing the talking cat, you decided to nod your head and shepley mumble an apology so this man would get off your ass about the talking CGI cat and you apparently. And as quickly as you thought you figured out the situation and what he was trying to lecture you on, the man continued his speech after the cat screamed out that he “wasn’t your familiar!” or something and another.

“Sure, sure The rebellious ones always say things like that. Now quiet down for a moment.” You just watched on as the man slammed his hand over the cat’s mouth and continued on talking, “My goodness. It’s unprecedented for a new student to leave the Gate on their own...how impatient can you be?” His eyes locked on yours to make sure you were paying attention, so you just nodded your head again to show that you were listening when you weren’t.

His speech seemed to be going for a century so you got bored and noticed that after a while he closed his eyes and was not paying attention to you while still having animated hand movements. You, then, began to observe the shelves around you again to see if there was anything odd, and there was, many of the books seemed to be in this weird language that you have never seen. The language looked like something you would find in a horror movie where the people would be so curious to actually touch the book and not throw it away like they should have, so you decided that as much as this place was odd and mysterious you did not want to be that kind of idiot. However, in your inner dialogue of stupid characters in horror movies, the theatrical man turned around with his cap flying behind him and sauntered on out of the room. You realized he probably said something important, but the worst case scenario is he was the one that kidnapped you and would kill you later. No big deal. The main problem right now is that the man was walking too fast for your tastes and has already disappeared from your vision, so you ran to catch up with him.

Finally, you met his step in a hallway, and you decided to ask just what this all was. “Wait, wait, wait sir. First, what’s this Gate or whatever?” You did fake quotes around the word gate by putting up peace signs and bending your fingers, and then you looked at the man with your arms situated over your chest and puffed your chest out to show you meant to be answered when you resumed with “And who are you, man?”

The man, though, was not at all bothered at your vibe and started a new explanation, “It’s the room you woke up in with all the doors...” Then, he went on about this “academy” or something, and you were getting the vibe that this man and this set had to be some kind of prank, “Let’s get a move on!”

You really seemed to be missing the important parts of the conversation or lecture of whatever this so-called teacher is doing if this even is a school, but at this point and time you just want to go back to bed.

He began to stare at your dazed and puzzled form and said, “For I am gracious I will explain everything to you!” This man is like teachers in the fact that if you nod your head and look like you are paying attention, anything is possible. At the end of his speech, you caught the word “ceremony” before he sped off for you to only follow behind him. You went through several more hallways to get to where you think you woke up around. No one remembers what happened once they woke up; it is all just blurred reality.

The man in all of his glory decides that once you arrive at this large door to fling the door open and teacher-yell “Not at all!”

Out of the flurry of voices you were greeted by once the door was opened one person in the cloak just like you calmly states a little disappointedly “Ah, he’s here.”

You decided that with the added amount of people you should probably pay more attention so you can get home quicker and figure this prank out.

“I cannot believe you all…” You really are getting better at tuning the man out because after his short speech this time he turned to you as motioned for you to move in the direction of another object that would come out of a horror movie. You having no context for this mirror or what you were going to do started walking for the mirror while making out the mirror and area around it. Actually, there was a familiar face in the mirror, something you think you have seen from a Disney movie. It was the magic mirror mask (?) from the Snow White movie. It did look a little different with some mask markings by the face’s eyes and the mirror had some more intricate details, but other than that the mirrors looked almost identical.

After your moment of remembrance of the past, you stopped from your walk and put your hand on your chin and just paused to process it all, causing the entire room to stop from their constant talking that you didn’t notice and stare. In a brilliant moment of association, you turned around to the man and the cat that was still in his arms and tried to get out all of what your brain has concluded from the situation, “So like can we just stop this… like I know you were probably hired to prank me or something, but this situation is giving me hardcore cult vibes. Are you gonna like sacrifice me to Satan or something? Please do tell.” The time of the room stopped waiting for a single response to your question. Before there were murmurs here or there as the people were watching you, but now silence pierced the air.

You watched the man’s face after you said your opinion, and while it was covered by a mask, it was clearly obvious from his open mouth and sagged shoulders that he was shocked about the situation. After a moment, he adjusted his tie and dusted his shoulder off in an effort to steel himself, but you were having none of his b.s, and prattled on again.

“Like, I’ll tell you, you lecturing me about this school and that cat is not what I was planning to do today. I would like to get back to my bed and sleep.” You even told him the name of your town, but this just made him more lost than before.

He repeated your town and asked, “Are you even from Twisted Wonderland?”

“Twisted what,” now both of you were lost and gawking at each other.

“Were you not listening to me?”

“Honesty, I thought this was a prank from the second you walked in, and I still kinda do, so I blanked everything out.” You scratched your cheek and made sure you lost your previous eye contact with him. The lack of of chatter from the crowd made your interaction more awkward than even you could make one.

He placed his free hand on his forehead looking almost as disappointed as the first voice you heard besides him and looked down to the floor.

“Right now we are in Night Raven College in Twisted Wonderland where we are at the end of the entrance ceremony. You should be here to become a student at this school as a magician. However, even if you are not from here, the mirror did send for you, so please,” he paused and weakly threw his hand back in the direction of the mirror, “Step in front of the mirror.”

While you knew you could not trust the man, the only thing to do in this situation is turn and step in front of the familiar mirror. The mirror then grasped the attention of all those in the room as asked you to “State thy name,” and you told the mirror your name.

“The shape of thy soul is…” Consequently, the mirror began to join in the confusion of you and the man behind you, “I don’t know.”

You turned around and threw both your hands up in a “don’t look at me” sign only for the man to gaze right in the mirror past you. “Come again?”

The mirror still pulling a puzzled face when it was only a mask tried to state what it knew, “I sense not a spark of magic from this one… the color, the shape, all are nothing. Therefore, they are suited for no dormitory.”

While the people around you began their whispers, and the man behind you gasped in a weird over exaggerated way, you decided to state your mind. “So, like I knew that, but pissy. I’ve always wanted magic and stuff.”

The masked man did not comment on what you said; you think that he probably has had enough of everything. “An Ebony Carriage would absolutely never go to meet someone who can’t use magic. In a hundred years, there has not been one mistake in student selection. So why in the world…”

You cut in with “I’m a total mistake, sir, that’s why,” but the CGI ‘Great Grim’ jumped out of the man’s hold and further cut you off: “Then, I’ll take their place!” All of this is getting too weird too fast so you just casually walked out of the limelight next to someone who was in a group of five, you think, not counting the floating tablet (??). The cat appeared mad before but being in that man’s hold just made him worse.

“Stay right there! Raccoon!” The masked, clearly sus man bolted out after the cat and chased him around at least for a few feet.

“Unlike that dumb human, I can use magic! Let me in the school instead! If you need proof, I’ll show you right now!” The cat was running around the room trying to avoid as many things as possible. You thought that he looked like a crewmate in the waiting ship for Among Us.

The peace did not last longer before the same disappointed voice from when you walked in the room became cross while screaming “Everyone, get down!”

The cat, then, spit out fire in every direction. Neither you nor the person next to you ducked, but you noticed some fire make its way to you and tried to get them out of the way before anything happened. Just as you were about to reach them, they caught on fire. Oops.

“Waaaaah! Hot! My butt’s on fire!” the male, you assumed, yelled right in your ear vibrating your eardrum and causing you to take a step back before fixing the problem. You spotted the man from before screaming to the other people in the room, and then, pointing at the cat.

Two of the taller people next to you began a conversation which you tried to listen in on:

“Good at hunting?... nice, plump snack?” You don’t think you wanted to hear this conversation.

“...Do it yourself.”

You focused your mind back to the boy who was still screaming in your ear until more voices piped up in response to the man.

“Mr. Crowley, please leave it to me.” another boy in the group of five said with this really profound voice. You could just tell he was a bottom or something. You are also assuming that “Mr. Crowley” is the masked sus man.

“That’s Azul for you. Always trying to earn himself points.” Let’s just ignore the talking, floating tablet and everything that should be questioned and focus on the fact that the bottom’s name is Azul.

The boy next to you with his butt still on fire did not find this conversation as interesting as you which in retrospect is obvious because of the fire on his butt. “Um, hey, could someone put out the fire on my butt already?”

“O gosh, I’m so sorry. I got really distracted by everything,” You aimed all your concentration that you had at the boy. You slapped the area that was on fire several times to get the fire out, and after a few slaps, the fire slowly extinguished on the boy. The fire was not as bad as it looked.

The boy turned around to face you and beamed at you as you believe the personification of the Sun would look like. “Thank you!!” His bright red eyes gazed right through your soul through your eyes, sparkling every couple of seconds. You patted the golden retriever’s hood as he just continued to beam through you. He even grabbed your hands and shook them rapidly several times to show his thanks to you and squeezed them to finally drop his grip.

You ignored the conversation that was happening between several others of the group of five in favor of staring at the young sun. A couple seconds after two of the clocked people began to run after the cat. That was your clue to start to pay more attention to the situation at hand than the sun.

~~~

So this was supposed to be a lot sooner but then exams hit and that's always fun. This chapter just had to have my mind commenting on everything, so half of the chapter we don't even know what happens, but it's really only gonna be for this chapter. Thank you for reading this, and I apologize for any mistakes, but I hope you enjoy it! Have a great day or night!

[smalltragedy]

* natalia dyer, nonbinary + she/they | you know philomena carmichael, right? they’re twenty, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, a day? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to the leanover by life without buildings like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole wind whipping around your hair, the gentleness of decomposition, a naked blur dancing around the flames of an everlasting fire thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is april 20th, so they’re a taurus, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 22, est, they/them )

hi thank u all fr being so patient w me as i rapidly switch out muses n figure out wht the fuck im doing atm <3 also sry fr my rare presence work hs been kicking my ass like lets jst say i deserve 2 b smbdy’s housewife (misogny wins this time sry) so i nvr hv to work in my life <3 DFSLKSDHKGLFSHLKAGHLKAHLKSG this is a joke 2 clarify. anyways. this is philly she’s old bt she’s one of my very favorites ever. this intro is also old sry its nt in my usual. style. LKDFKHGLKGF

CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION, DEATH, GRAPHIC MENTION OF DECAY, INSECTS MENTION TW.

mini playlist.

the girl who stole my tamagotchi ;; hot sugar / i dropped out ;; and the kids / pork soda ;; glass animals / wonderfully bizarre ;; bendigo fletcher / (dream) ;; salvia palth / alien blues ;; yundabar / dust in your pocket ;; glass animals / warm honey ;; willow / bela lugosi’s dead ;; bauhaus / gecgecgec ;; 100 gecs / blinding ;; florence and the machine / nantes ;; beirut / cherry-coloured funk ;; cocteau twins / not allowed ;; tv girl / oblivion ;; grimes / space song ;; beach house / dog food ;; 100 gecs / the leanover life ;; life without buildings.

statistics.

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, mena, etc.

birthday: april 20th, 2000. 

zodiac: taurus sun, scorpio moon, aries ascending.

mbti & temperament: infp & improvisor / phlegmatic. 

label: the halycon.

sexuality: demisexual.

pinterest.

biography.

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

cancer tw // it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long. end of cancer tw //

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.

during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

depersonalization / derealization tw // it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs. depersonalization / derealization end of tw //

death, decay. maggots tw // there is trauma though, deep-rooted but somewhere inside - you just have to look for it.

you. just. have. to. look. for. it. look for it. look for it. look for it look for it look -

you were ten and she was thirteen, an off-trail hike in familiar woods in a familiar town, safe and familiar. it was your idea, to stray from the carved out paths, down creeks and up hills and round, and round again. you’re the one who spotted the scarf first, sticking up from the dirt and dancing in the wind like the beginning of reincarnation. it was not reincarnation, it was discovery. it was ruin. with curiosity drawn, you skidded down - with compliance, followed juno, followed your sister - clumsy in her steps and tumbling down quicker than you. you saw the corpse, but juno felt it. decaying flesh and maggot. end of death, decay, maggots tw //

and she left juno, just like that - just five years later, when juno had finally gone to the end of her wits. philly up and left. abandoned her.

philomena and elektra leave the city after that therapy session. they do not return. she’s always been good at hiding her secrets.

after ending up with warrants from their arrest in florida (after running from the law in texas), philly and elektra have wound up at irving <3 partially hiding from the law and partially bcos their trusty van’s broken down and they haven’t got the money to fix her up yet. 

personality & facts.

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon.

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been.

currently living in florence, their van, with her sister elektra <3 currently residing in lilac ridge.

they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.

it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her. (smirks at leo)

will consume anything you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her. third favorites? florence, of course. fleetwood mac. the bird and the bee.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggling.

also, accordion.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

( like her frequent visits to the woods, late at night when the moon is high and full. it’s freeing to dance around a fire, stark naked in the cold. builds immunity )

comes and goes wherever she pleases, nothing & nobody can stop her (besides elektra).

has a certain knack for getting animals to like her. has too many ‘pet’ rats that reside with her, alongside a baby raccoon & a few crow pals. has a new animal companion everyday, but she doesn’t contain them or force them to stay.

wanted plots.

speaking through my third eye ... ;; philly is new in town n shes very strange. constantly lives in a state in which she does not exist (at least on the same plane). this is her harassing the locals. this is her slipping thru their fingertips as they attempt 2 understand her. they get close smtms bt philly jst. whisks herself away.

hollows of our eyelids ... ;; perhaps there is smbdy jst as strange as philly. i’m out here calling fr all the weirdos. lets be friends. lets hv philly n co go on adventures n discover horrible sites n uncover ancient secrets tht lie deep below irving. mayb nt tht. bt im jst saying. this is fr the dreamers. da weirdos. the jugheads. LHKDSHFSADLKGFHLSKADG fr those who also feel as if they r not real.

bills n aches n blues... ;; ya this is my call fr all negative plots. bills (catching philly be a thief and a fraud), aches (mayb heartache? unrecruited feelings or w/e theyre called?), n blues (ooooh so sad... so sad ... angst ...) obviously i am a genius. i wldnt say tht philly is here 2 make enemies bc philly doesnt care much abt ppl bt perhaps tht cld b an issue. tht she doesnt care much abt others. mayb ur muse is jst like. cn u pls care. n philly is like. i am incapable. sry. sucks.

n also ,, ;; like. anything i’ll. take anything. philly is weird lets come up w surreal plots tht verge on the edge of like. nt being correct fr this verse. suddenly theres vampires? or so they think ... smirks. anyways. shes been 2 jail n been in the circus (shoutout 2 kirby) n dances naked in the woods n hoards animals n treasures. we hv a lot to work with here obv. 

[writing-frenzy]

Airplane Crossing Over Plots~

Like it says on the tin, these were ideas I had for crossovers involving our fav writer~ (EDIT: Thank you @guiltycorp for inspiring this a bit XD)

Now, I’ve mentioned before, with Airplane choosing the go home option, he ends up still with a golden core in all this mess but he needs to cultivate his body really carefully because of it. (come on, he put in all the time and effort to be an immortal master, he should be able to still have his bad ass skills; not to mention with it being a soul thing, because a golden core is just as spiritual as it is physical, so he will definitely still have it.)

So, sealing his core and having his Nascent Soul outside his body to relieve some of the pressure on it, (having it look like a little chibi SQH that usually hangs out in hoodie pockets or hiding in Airplane’s hair with an aura of disguise around it), Airplane has to go and actually work out, which isn’t too much of a hardship for him at least, seeing as he’s had years to get into a routine and survival instincts kicking in to help him out there.

And, he may have actually started taking school seriously again, actually applying himself, maybe even getting an online accounting job to help supply his income. When he’s steady with that, he finishes PIDW the way he had been leading up to, the ending that makes the most sense and satisfices the writer the most (and if it gives him some closure, he isn’t saying anything about that.) Now that he is finally free from PIDW, and has college and work to worry about, he writes whenever he damn well pleases, and whatever he wants to fuck what anyone says.

(He might or might not write some absolutely filthy porn whenever the mood hits him, and cackles how his fans both greedily read it and cry because his newer works are so tragic, even if they have happy endings at times. Yes, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky is a porn writer, but first and foremost is he an angst writer more~ His fan’s tears and cries just make him stronger kind of writer~)

(I just honestly want Airplane to write what he wants to now, that is one of the biggest motives behind all this honestly)

So, we have the set up :D let’s get to what we can cross over here~

First Up: ~Cutivation Group Chat~

Come on, how can one resist this? Plopping good old Airplane into this wild ride is one of the few things that makes me so happy in life. The thought of it makes me grin, especially since it can go two ways in my opinion~

First way: Airplane replaces Song Shuhang; like, just seeing Airplane, who was an Immortal Master and Teacher in those situations would be so funny, yet intriguing as well to see how he handles it, because you know he’ll be able to, just in ways no one ever expects. (Besides, that werid luck of Shuhang’s would be perfect for him, tho he won’t seek death like the other would~ :D Airplane still has a lovely sense of self-preservation~)

Second way: Airplane is one of Song Shuhang’s roommates. (for this, I’m going to say their Dorm was big enough for five peeps, because I want Airplane to have more friends damn-it.) Just... the imagery of the two neutral disasters getting into so much mayhem and hijinxs together, giving Song Shuhang not only a friend/brother in arms he can always depend and rely on, but also a steady source for learning and cultivation as well :D

(Also, Airplane and Gou Moumou being writer friends, the two of them able to bounce ideas on to each other (oh god, now you have inspired me, how dare you make me write this./hahahaha, you know you want too/ bitch turnabout is fair play/ ah fuck.) also: just the image of Airplane meeting Senior White and being completely unaffected because not only is his survival instincts going in overdrive, but also:

Airplane: ? He’s not my type.

Everyone: *jaws dropped*

:D Anyways~

Second Idea: Card Room (Rebirth)

Now First, for those who don’t know Card Room (Rebirth), this is an action/survival/mystery thriller BL Unlimited Flow type of novel; it follows one Xiao Lou, a medical professor who specializes with examining the dead, and his journeys through multiple rooms after having died in reality, the difficulty of each of these rooms measured with Playing Cards from 2 to K and with different types of rooms being sorted by their suits of Hearts (Mystery), Diamonds (Puzzle), Spade (Survival), Club (Luck/Money). The Goal of the story is to beat all the rooms and return back to the world of the living once more. To aid in this, people can get special cards to help them fight/ take care of their health/ or even just daily life essentials to be able to actually get through places. 

So... this means after getting all used to living once more and getting into his grove in the modern world... Airplane unfortunately kicks the bucket, yet again! Thing is, this time it happened after he played a card game with some of his roommates, I’m going to say poker, and they were betting who would do what chores. Aiplane managed to make out pretty well, and was pleased with it, so was very much bummed when he ended up dying yet again.  He goes through the room, some by the skin of his teeth, but with his cultivation abilities still usable (can’t stop something on a soul level here) he gets by okay. Though, all his cards either deal with writing, supplies, and the rare cultivation one at times.

He gets by at least.

Now, because this series gives me some emotions, here is one thing I will say: Airplane and Liu Ying end up partnering up and break through together, because damn it, Liu Qiao and her sis deserve some damn happiness ;-; Maybe Airplane and Liu Ying meet by chance, Airplane impressed by the young woman’s intelligence and Liu Ying can in turn be grateful for Airplane’s resourcefulness. Maybe even include the original girl that Liu Ying teamed up with, So we have three people already in your team to survive! (because surviving the rooms 2-4 is already damn amazing considering how hellish they get :D ) 

This is a fun crossover for me to imagine honestly, because it would be perfect to showcase Airplane’s skills in logic, reasoning, and pure survival our boy is known for; let that resourceful and logistic riddled mind out to play as he fights to get the fuck out of this world, even if The City of the Moon is beautiful and all.

:D So, those were the ideas I would like to really see, but here is some more for anyone curious:

Honorable Mentions: These are ones I would love to see Airplane accidently going into, and just going yikes, or nope! or even ‘Really?’

Lord of End of World:

... This story, it concerns me greatly; I like the worldbuilding, even has a few really cool girls in it, and I find the protagonist rather curious (to an extent, blackened Gary Stu that he is...) but does it make me cringe at times with the underage theme to it; it’s part of their cultivation and all, but god damn does the way this story push some of it really sqink me out, I had to drop it because it made me so uncomfortable, so just a heads up there. this is one of those stories that makes me want to write spite fiction, but also make me cringe at the thought of remembering it at times.

Anyways, so, how it boils down to it is that this poor guy, known as the Young Master of the Unground Palace, was abused in all the ways one can practically be abused, just so their Master can get stronger themselves by forming the perfect cauldron to absorb, but who manages to kill their master only to die as well. He ends up transmigrating into Gong Lixin, a 16 year old wealthy young master about a year (I believe) before the apocalypse happens... (Like I said, I have so many damn issues with this damn story, I cry.)

Just, on one hand, imagining Airplane in this world also makes me laugh (and maybe hope), because maybe here Gong Lixin could actually learn a cultivation style thats not only suited to him, but also doesn’t need him to dual cultivate all the time and rely on cauldrons (maybe get some needed therapy as well, Airplane knows some peeps; I can dream~), he can have a stable, reliable teacher here who will have no lust or attraction to him, Airplane helping the kid out at first because they look like they’re recovered from a really bad Qi-Devitation and the teacher in him can’t leave that alone. Airplane can also relate with the youth about transmigrating, maybe even telling him about his own time with that. (And Airplane can use his own cultivation to smack around any bitch looking sideways at his student, because fuck that shit, he is only seventeen and traumatized.) Just, turning this story into a cute mentor and discipleship and emotional healing would make me so happy.

Monster Inn Rectification Report

So, this is another Transmigration story~ MC transmigrates as a poor canon fodder son, who would have ended up in a vegetable state after being neglected in favor of the super amazing awesome adopted son. He then goes on to accidently inheriting a supernatural end for Monsters~

Like, this idea makes me grin evilly; though things will change up a bit, since both of Airplane’s parents have already split up and have their own families? Just, the Former An Ding Peak Lord running an Inn? :D Building it from ground up from bascially nothing? :D Oh, man, this man has run worse things, and even a Demon Kingdom, he got you~

Supernatural Movie Actor App

Its a BL about a guy with a split personality who does realistic (as in for real) horror movies through an app, to get his wish to come true.

This actually goes really good with my idea of Airplane wanting to be an actor and all, only to have his dreams crushed :D He doesn’t at first realize what he is getting into when he gets the app, thinking it might be a chance for him to still be able to do his dream, only, surprise, surprise, he ends up entering a real life Horror movie environment~ I’m really curious about what he would dream about~

I Have Medicine

:D Airplane and Gu Zuo interactions make me smile~ these two would be so fun, seeing them bounce off each other would be a treat.

So What if You’re Reborn

.... hahahahahaha, oh, the chaos that could be unleashed in this timeline would be glorious~

Running Away From the Hero

:)

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 99

Here we have the aftermath of the Warlord Bowl. 

Here, we finally... FINALLY get to see Jokul as a person and not a far-off mysterious bad guy. Consciously, there was never any intent to compare Jokul to people who don’t understand how politics work: @zommbiebro​ isn’t even American, for one thing, and therefore neither is Jokul. However, reading it on the last pass before posting, I realized how it could be taken.

The part that isn’t relevant to the chapter: While I didn’t mean that comparison, please make sure you vote in any local elections available to you, if it doesn’t risk your life. No matter how much you feel your vote doesn’t matter, it does. If everyone who didn’t vote decided to do so, it would change the world.

In my own country, I’ll be taking time off work - because I have that ability - and taking local people to polls that ordinarily would be inaccessible to them within their district.

Back to the chapter relevant stuff: Thank you to @zommbiebro​ for giving me such a good character to play with, @charlylimph-blog​ for reading to ensure entertainment, and @baelpenrose​ for beta reading in every way that entails.

After a quick dinner at the first mess we came across - and true to my promise, I didn’t cook anything - Arthur, Antoine and I reconvened with Jokul in my office. As agreed, he brought only two of his own people, who sat on either side of him in a mirror to how I was bracketed by my own friends.

Unfortunately, they entered as I was mulling out loud the possibility of making hot pot for family dinner one night.  Even less fortunately, the ginger who I had thrown in the gym was one of the people who walked through my door while I was debating the logistics of meat versus vegetarian options.

“She doesn’t even take us seriously!” the nasal voice complained, interrupting me.

Simultaneously, several things happened. I opened my mouth to retort, Arthur put a hand over my mouth, Antoine pushed my shoulder back into the chair.

And Jokul spoke up.

“We agreed to meet with them if Farro beat me in combat.  He did, we are here, and there will be no further argument on the matter.” If anything, he sounded weary rather than angry. “She did not even request that we cease acting against her, only that we meet as equals. It is the least we can do.”

I didn’t even know forehead cramps were a thing until I gave myself one with the speed of my eyes widening. Slowly, Arthur lowered his hand so I could speak. “Right,” I coughed. “So, there are a few things I want to know.”

“Such as?” 

“Why am I your target?” I blurted out. Of everything, this was the one that was weighing heaviest on me. I felt if I could understand that, I would know how to tackle the rest. 

To my frustration, he fucking shrugged. “You are emblematic of everything that will destroy our chance at a new start,” he stated calmly, like he was telling me his name.

I sputtered before regaining my composure. “How? How am I doing something badly?”

“You only want to consolidate power, rule over the masses!” the red-haired toady honked at me.

The overblown statement and Jokul’s subsequent glare at his own man was a level of ridiculous I couldn’t handle at that moment.  Laughing ruefully, I wiped away a tear that warned me I was close to hysterical. “I don’t want to rule over anyone, dude.  If I had my preference, I would only decide what I want to eat once or twice  a week for the rest of my life.”

“But you rule over the Council,” Jokul pointed out in a confused tone.

“I don’t rule anyone, buddy. I am on the Council largely against my will, and mostly because no one else who is qualified even wants my job. Trust me, I’ve tried.” Gods had I tried.

His next statement was significantly less confident. “But you took the reins of power…”

“I am a glorified event coordinator and human resources officer. I have a staff of exactly two. One is my sister, who has been in her role longer than I’ve been in mine and only listens to me when it’s convenient. The other is my assistant, who is British as hell and listens to me on about equal level with my cat.”

“The Baconists! Your assistant was part of that rebellion! You must have known and hidden it from our hosts!” I had to give him some begrudging credit. Even he didn’t sound like he believed his own words, and if the smug look from Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber on either side of him was anything to go by, that wasn’t his own theory.

Time to set the record straight, it seemed. “Okay, quick reminder: that bitch tried to kill me,” I enunciated carefully, leaning forward as I spoke.  “She nearly succeeded. That wasn’t a cover up, it was her realizing that I talk to myself in the shower and listening long enough to hear me think through what was going on. As far as hiding her intent from our hosts… You’re only half right. Miys doesn’t read minds, contrary to what people think, they only read intent. That nutjob really did think she was doing the best thing for the universe by wiping humanity off the proverbial map. Nothing for Miys to pick up, she actually had what she thought were good intentions.”

“You have built yourself to be this legendary hero -”

“I didn’t build myself to be jack. Effing. Shit. If I had my preference, I would give you my position, and open a restaurant that does cooking classes.” When he opened his mouth to interject, I held up a hand to stop him. “Miys likes me because I talk to myself, even in my head, and so badly that they can still hear what I am saying when I don’t move my lips. I only survived being attacked by a crazy person because I treat the person who saved me like, you know, a person? Make sure he’s okay, give him his space when he wants it, sass him back when he wants to be sassy. It was just sheer, dumb luck, and I’m not even sure it was good luck, because voila!” I flung my hands wide at the current situation, forcing both Arthur and Antoine to duck. A quick glance at Antoine only rendered one of his eloquent shrugs. Must be handling the situation okay if he doesn’t think I need help.

I was less concerned with Arthur’s opinion, not because I didn’t care, but because I knew he would jump in when he felt it was needed, without prompting or permission.

“So you do not want to rule over us all?” Jokul asked carefully.

“I don’t even want to top one of my boyfriends consistently.”

“Sophia!” Antoine hissed with a miserable expression, while Arthur burst into a coughing fit. I wasn’t sure if the latter was trying to cover a laugh of choking. 

Jokul, on the other hand, seemed to take that at face value  “Then why are you in power? Explain that.”

With a heavy sigh, I tried again. “I’m not in power. Decisions are voted on by the Council. If someone brings me an idea for a class, or an architectural project, or a medical possibility, I pass it off to the Councilor who handles that and let it go from there.” Emphatically, I pointed at my own face. “Again, glorified events coordinator and HR.”

“And yet, you have your pet warlord sitting beside you. Explain that away,”Tweedledumb - the brunette on Jokul’s other side - accused.

I whipped my head to look at the subject of that statement before looking back across the table. “Arthur?” I asked, jerking a thumb in his general direction. “You do realize he’s a teacher first, right? Warlord out of need, but that ‘need’ was protecting the students in his history class when everything went to shit? Don’t get me wrong, we butted heads like you would not believe when we first met in person. But we realized halfway through what looked to be one hell of an argument that we knew each other for - fuck, like, a decade? Maybe less? - before the End. I didn’t ‘win him over.’ We just realized we’ve always been friends.” With a shrug I glanced back at Arthur, who also shrugged before nodding.

“Too convenient, Councilor.” Tweedledumb gloated. “You just happened to be friends with someone who - “

“Oh for FUCK’s sake!” Annnnd there it was.  Someone had reached his limit for diplomacy and stupidity. “We met on a fanfiction site writing a crossover of two of the worst pieces of science fiction ever written and mutually infected each other! FUCK!” Crossing his arms, he started muttering to himself. “Not like finding someone to kick your asses is hard…”

After a glare at the darker-haired idiot, and with an expression that looked like he was entirely regretting his choice of people for this meeting, Jokul schooled his features before addressing me directly. “Fanfiction?” he asked in a skeptical tone.

And the dirty truth comes out, I thought with another sigh. “StarDoc and Warhammer 40K, okay? It was fun, no fandom to cheese off, nothing smutty. Just… fun.” When the nostalgia threatened to overtake me, I shook my head vigorously. “The point is, we knew each other for years Before the world went to shit, and only realized when one of my friends landed in his class and there was a data error.  I don’t even like violence.” Antoine gave me a skeptical look so I clarified. “Usually.”

“And yet you are a combatant!” Jokul stated with certainty, clearly on more familiar ground.

Angrily, I scowled at Tweedle-the-ginger before leaning forward to look into Jokul’s eyes. “Look. I don’t know how it was in Canada, with your mooses and shit, but I really, really want to know: Do you honestly believe that anyone who got through the After did it without learning how to defend themselves? Even more, that any woman who made it, didn’t learn to fight dirty?”

“Not if you know how to have people defend you - “ Jokul tried before I cut him off.

“They don’t defend me because I’m helpless, let’s be clear. They defend me because I will only fight back if I know my life is on the line. But, on the same page, I will protect my friends and family from anything, without reserve, and die for them. No hesitation.” With a deep breath, I sat back rather than jumping over the table.  “I have my flaws, and my sister will tell you the biggest among those is that I trust too easily.  I assume the best in, literally, everyone.”

“Except smartass teacher, apparently,” Arthur said in a fake cough that fooled exactly nobody.

After making a face at my friend, I turned back to the moose in the room. “What that means is, I don’t try to defend myself until it is literally your life or mine. Or both. I don’t really care at that point, because I assume I’m not going to make it. I just want the person I’m fighting to go down with me.” Trying to imitate Charly’s most savage grin, I put on a forced-cheerful tone. “Now, tell me, Jokul. Who would rather have faced in that fight, knowing that?”

His eyes darted between Arthur and myself as he swallowed hard, mulling the implications of that. “You would kill and die for your friends’ safety and health, even if you would only protect yourself at the last moment?” Here, he scoffed. “There is nothing exceptional or even special about that. Many who were in power in the After felt the same.”

“Except I don’t want power,” I repeated in a tone that I previously reserved only for small children. “I just told you that.” In the corners of my eyes, I saw both of my friends nodding so hard I was concerned for their spines.

Before I could try to reason with Jokul any more, Arthur jumped in. “If you’re both done arguing righteousness, let me explain a few things. Jokull. First off, Soph actually doesn’t want to rule, or be on the Council. She told you this. She’s also bitched about it to me, her sister, and anyone else who will listen, at length. On top of being too trusting, her biggest flaw is actually an impulsivity problem, in general. But she’s not an autocrat.” As he gestured, I saw his eyes glaze over, his voice taking on a serene tone that was entirely too familiar. “If Soph was a real autocrat, she’d have let us have our little duel armed, with my sword and - I presume you’d have had an ax? Maybe a broadsword? You look like a broadsword guy... any rate.”

“However,” he continued, leaning forward with a thoughtful expression, like he was puzzling something out. “she made me promise not to kill you. Think about that. After you’ve been nothing but a headache and a threat to her and her family for months, she makes me promise not to kill you. I wanted to, you know.” The wistful sigh that accompanied that statement was entirely unnecessary and I was certain he only did it to irritate me.  “I wanted to kill you and have your lifeless corpse thrown out of the airlock like trash, not because of the Council, not because your Viking gimmick wears out in a hurry, but because you made the mistake of threatening a friend, then slapping a student. I had no idea if you were actually going to seriously harm any of them, and I didn’t care. The threat alone was enough to make me decide I wanted you dead.” Tapping his chin briefly, he pointed at Jokul without actually looking at him. “Because you were an unknown quantity, but no matter whether or not you were actually the threat you claimed to be, your corpse would be harmless.”

Arthur shrugged before looking Jokul in the face. “That’s how warlords handled things in the After, isn’t it? When someone threatened your people, or when someone threatened mine? I didn’t negotiate. I didn’t warn. I doubt you did, either. I took them at their word, and I did unto them first. And I’d bet you did the same. ‘Peace’ was what you called it when everyone who wanted to make war on you or your people was dead. That’s what the After taught me, that’s what it taught you.” After emphasizing his point by gesturing between the two of them, he shook his head.  “And that impulse, that set of lessons? That's not what humanity needs right now. Our skill set as leaders is not what humanity needs right now. If you want humanity to have a fresh start as you claim, drop the hostility, drop the self-righteousness, and actually try listening. Do you want a genuine peace with the Council?” Thoughtfully, he stroked the hilt of his sword where it laid across his lap. 

I knew it was the fondness of being reunited with a long lost limb, but Jokul didn’t know that. 

“Or a warlord’s peace with me?” In a creepy way, Arthur’s tone was downright perky. “I prefer a genuine one. A warlord’s idea of peace is one of the things I want to leave in the ashes of the After. That’s why it’s the Council who make the rules here - not warlords.”

With an alarmed expression, Jokul very slowly glanced at me. “Did he just threaten to kill me and shove me out an airlock?”

“No, he’s pouting because I wouldn’t let him do that,” I answered honestly.  The topic had come up, for a solid fifteen seconds.  I was even reasonably sure Arthur had been joking.

“I don’t - “ Arthur started  indignantly before being cut off by Jokul.

“He makes a good point. Our skills as warlords are not what is needed in this new world. I let myself believe people who told me that the Council in general and you specifically wanted to hoard power and privilege over us, just like the people who led Earth to where it ended up.” He glanced nervously at Arthur, who was still stroking his sword, before forging ahead in a somewhat squeakier tone. “If someone who has had real power agrees that you and the Council are the best option, then I will at least try to see how that would work.”

Here, Antoine joined the conversation. “Militant strength and ruling by force aren’t the only forms of power. We do not want that sort of power over us anymore. The Council leads because the people on this ship largely want to follow them.  That is the kind of power no one can force.  It has to be earned.”

“But the Council still makes decisions without our will - “

Shaking my head, I angrily flicked open my datapad and shot a file to him like I was thumping off an insect. “No, Bjornson, we don’t.  I was elected to my position - without my knowledge, might I add - by the people I represent to the Council. Every decision we make, the people on this ship get a vote with the exception of an emergency like what happened on Level One.  There wasn’t time to have a vote on how to handle that.”

“Although, we have had a lot of emergencies lately, so I understand the confusion,” Arthur interjected.

Is this what hallucinations feel like? I wondered. There was no way in frozen hell Arthur just made a point in Jokul’s favor, but the calm, resigned look on his face told me that, at some point, he seemed to have made peace with having to treat Jokul Bjornson as a sentient being. I was going to pass out if I kept sighing, though. “Okay, true. But everything else - Insert Winter Holiday, the swimming area, the diving docks, food festivals, permanent low stimulation areas throughout the ship, Galactic Core education - those were voted on by the people on this ship, with an overwhelming majority in favor.”

“What about the alarms?” Jokul pointed to his own head for emphasis.

“Also voted on, believe it or not,” I confirmed. “ And most of the ship agreed that there was more benefit in not running into people who would react badly to unexpected touch than there was discomfort at the alarms going off.”

“I tested them myself, monsieur.” Antoine offered. “So I am well acquainted with the volume they are calibrated for, and I do not appreciate you disabling them.  My staff have had to work around the clock to treat the damage your people have caused to others on this ship, who are terrified to leave their quarters now.”

Jokul looked a bit guilty at that, as well as his entourage.  Looked like he hadn’t considered that. “Would you believe me if I told you that was originally an accident?” he admitted sheepishly.  “One of the engineers thought it would be funny to shock another one in the neck with a low level electrical current, right behind the ear.” He turned his head and pointed to a small burn scar in the same place. “It took days for them to notice that the proximity alarm didn’t work anymore.”

To my shock, Antoine started swearing angrily in French, so fast even the translator couldn’t keep up. “Sophia, if I find out Charly Harper is the cause of this…”

Jokul shook his head vigorously. “I can assure you it was not Miss Harper.” His focus slid over to me, eyes wide.

Either this motherfucker just lied to keep Charly out of trouble, or she really was innocent.

“That explains why Derek and Zach couldn’t figure out how they did it,” Arthur pointed out. “You can’t hack into something that’s shorted out.”

Jokul spoke up again. “It also… may? Have caused some translation inconsistencies?”

“So the shock corrupted more files than just the alarms,” I stated in clarification.

“Several, in fact, yes…. Specifically signed languages and tonal languages.”

“That’s… that’s at least a third of the ship…” I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to sob in horror or laugh hysterically.

Jokul groaned before cradling his head in his hands. “I am aware, yes.”

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[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 2.5}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

As she rose to her feet with her book tightly hugged to her chest, she took a deep breath and pushed her emotions and anxiety into the back of her mind, before building her wall of neutrality. By the time she had climbed up onto the catwalk, she almost felt calm again. From what she saw, almost nobody was paying her attention anyway, and nobody could care less if she got her butt kicked or not. Most of the students as well as the teachers were chatting among themselves, and Robin got the impression that they were all waiting for the main act to begin once this warm-up game of the lower years was finally over. A quick glance told her that Professor Snape was still facing the book in his hands, but his eyes were following Robin through the room as she approached Morgan. Well, at least Snape would make sure that she didn't get killed. Probably.

"Up front at last… You can read in your freetime." Professor Morgan drawled quietly, and grabbed the book out of Robin's hands a little too forcefully, only to toss it to Snape on the nearby stand with a mean sarcastic smile. Then he turned to the audience all around them. "Any volunteer who would like to try their luck against Miss Mitchell?"

Multiple hands rose immediately upon the question, most of them Slytherin students but also a few others, and Robin sighed to herself. So much for spending the day reading… despite her walls, she still felt subtly embarrassed that Morgan had given her book to Snape. That had been such a petty move yet again, and probably only meant to mess with her nerves. However keeping the anxiety away was working rather well at the moment, and Robin drew her wand out of her sleeve before taking on the position she knew was expected of her, without actually listening to Morgan speaking. It didn't matter that she hadn't chosen to be here. She was here now, and she would try her very best to go against whoever Morgan could set her up with. Whoever his choice might fall onto, he surely wouldn't pick in her favor.

A Slytherin boy of her grade jumped onto the catwalk then, with a menacing sneer directed at Robin, and she heard quite a few people rooting for him rather audibly. Her face however remained in perfect neutrality, even as they stood right in front of each other and then made their ways to their respective ends of the catwalks after Professor Morgan had explained the procedure Robin already was familiar with.

"Prepare yourselves!" Morgen called to them over the quite significant noise around them, and Robin took on the stance she had practiced. Maybe practicing on real life people would have been better than perfectly still trees… It didn't matter now. The very moment Morgan had stepped off the catwalk and gave the go, Robin sent her opponent flying through the room before he'd even gotten out a word. Well… that had been surprisingly easy.

The chattering around her got quieter for a moment, then picked back up. The boy on the other side of the catwalk sat back up, groaning in pain before lying right back down, and Morgan awkwardly got back into his place in the middle. "Well, it seems we have a winner." Very mild applause followed. "Would anyone else like to go against Miss Mitchell, seeing as we were done so very… timely?"

The hands that were still risen now were more reluctant, and mostly coming from students in higher years. Robin was pretty sure that she would get her ass kicked now, but at least she hadn't gone down right in the first round. That would've been rather embarrassing. While Morgan picked her next opponent, Robin risked a side glance at Snape. He had closed his book and was following the ongoings with very much feigned indifference now, which Robin could only tell because she figured that if he actually wouldn't care, he would still be reading.

"Next up is Miss Augustine against Miss Mitchell! I have… taken the liberty to pick an opponent from a higher grade, that surely is alright with you, isn't it, Mitchell?" Morgan asked with another bright smile, but didn't actually wait for an answer before he stepped aside once again. "Prepare yourselves… and go!"

The older girl was faster in her attack than Robin's last opponent had been, but Robin could block it off fairly easily with a spell that reflected whatever had been thrown at her, which in return caused the other girl to take a tumble. Just as Robin believed it already was over again, her opponent fired the same thing as before at Robin while still on the ground, making Robin fall on her behind too, rather harshly. In her shock at actually getting knocked off her feet for the very first time, she didn't bother getting up, and threw a fairly impulsive petrifying spell at the Gryffindor girl who had just risen back to her feet. Too slow to block, the girl froze with a surprised face, and then fell to the ground stiff as a pillar with a dull thud.

While Robin quickly got back onto her own two feet, she looked around with a hint of insecurity on her mind that actually did reflect in her face for now. She hadn't exactly paid attention to the rules of this specific event, and didn't know how far she was allowed to go, or if maybe she could even use that one spell she had discovered by accident… but as of yet, nobody complained. Indeed, the chattering had died down a little further now as the older girl was being carried off the catwalk, and Morgan stepped back into the middle.

"Uh, well… what a surprise! Seems like Miss Mitchell has had a bit of practice beforehand! Who would like to go against her next?" His voice was still too bright, but it had gotten so shallow that most people probably could tell that he was very much irritated by this turn of events.

Robin herself smoothed out her robes, and stared at a spot on the ground. It was odd, going against real people… She wanted to win, but she also was scared of accidentally hurting them. Also, it was quite hard to believe that she had already won two fights in a row without any prior experience. Sure, she had knowledge, but not experience. It really was the same thing that she'd observed while working in the greenhouse with Sprout… knowing something and doing something were quite far from each other at most times. But, obviously, knowledge without experience already sufficed to have an advantage over experience without knowledge. Still, she didn't want to believe quite yet that she was actually any good at this. The people who volunteered for this pathetic show of pride likely weren't those who actually were any good at it, and those who were good at it probably didn't have any interest in going against an inexperienced second year.

That assessment of the situation was only supported by the performance of the next person she went against, a fourth year with a superior look on his face even before the flight started, and who then couldn't even think of more than the same two spells which he fired at Robin continuously. She blocked them all without much effort, but didn't attack in return while he only grew more and more aggressive in his own attack. Eventually after a few minutes, when he needed two seconds to catch his breath, Robin saw her chance and sent him flying in the same manner as the first boy. He hit his head rather harshly on the wooden catwalk, and stayed down just like the others before him.

Alright, this was getting ridiculous… Robin didn't want to make it look like she even remotely knew what she was doing. The only reason why she was still up here and refusing to lose was because she didn't want Morgan to see her losing. Well, neither did she want Snape to see her losing, but that was a whole different issue.

The next person she went against was a sixth year, and Robin actually felt a little concerned. This guy should have triple the knowledge AND experience she did, and probably a whole different motivation to win, if one could go by the group of giggling girls in the ranks. If he actually sent an attack her way, she was pretty sure that she would go down immediately. Well… she still had no intention of admitting her loss to Morgan, thus she would have to simply be faster than this boy. As they each got into their respective ends, Robin already planned what she would do, and as soon as the go was given, she set it to action. Before her opponent could open his mouth to voice a probably very clever attack, Robin simply sent a very fast ‘immobile’ at him, and his mouth stayed hanging open from his attempt to speak. After that, a simple ‘expelliarmus’ sufficed to demonstrate that she could've used any choice of harmful attack instead. Honestly, she was mostly surprised that this had worked. While what she'd done in the beginning was solely the defense and attack spells she'd read about when studying duelling, she slowly discovered that it actually was the use of non-native spells that gave her an advantage. And fast thinking, but that wasn't really something she had studied for.

While the sixth year was freed from Robin's spell and led off the catwalk, Professor Morgan once more asked for volunteers to go against Robin, however this time nobody raised their hand. As Robin studied the audience, it appeared that people had split into two patterns of behavior: those who still seemed ineffably bored and disinterested (and who likely were the ones that were any good at this in the first place) and those who had stopped chattering in order to watch the quite unique show of a second year beating up student after student with the most basic spells. That however also meant that a lot more people were watching her now, and Robin felt uncomfortably put on display. Still no volunteer, and she started feeling awkward up there on the catwalk while Morgan tried everything to encourage the students. No chance… the show-offs were scared of possibly embarrassing themselves by losing against her, and the talented people didn't care enough to try.

"Fine…" Morgan finally announced loudly, and Robin had the faint hope that he would send her back to her seat. But oh, was she wrong. "If nobody sees themselves fit to face a mere second year… I will."

Robin's jaw dropped quite literally, as did a few others in the audience room. Was he actually being serious about this?! As Robin made her way to the middle of her unfortunate pedestal for the usual procedure to begin, she couldn't quite suppress all of her anxiety anymore, not even close, but she kept an indifferent face nonetheless. This really must be a bloody joke… Even if Morgan wasn't all that good at magic, Robin still was only a second year student and he a stupid and irresponsible professor who had already hurt her quite a bit once, and gone on to try a second time as well. Geez… now was his third chance.

"Don't worry, Miss Mitchell, I will not be all too hard on you." He grinned at Robin, and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes as she stood directly in front of him now. Maybe she just had to make the best of this yet again.

"May I make use of one of my own spells, sir?" Robin asked sweetly, feigning a smile as she spoke.

"Is it in any form harmful to the bystanders, or lethal to the person attacked with it?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Then I don't see why you would want to use it in the first place, but go ahead and use it if you fancy." He shrugged, and waved Professor Flitwick over to be the replacement judge for the unusual fight.

Meanwhile, Robin's eyes sought out Professor Snape in the crowd, only to find him staring at Morgan with that grave look of danger he'd already worn that night in the hallway last year. While she was looking at the crowds already, she discovered that now almost every person in the room was curiously observing the spectacle in the middle. Observing Robin.

"This might not be the playground fight you're used to, Mitchell, but I expect you to give your very best." Morgan said with a truly mocking tone now. "And Mitchell… don't hold back. There's little you can do that would harm me." With that he bowed and Robin did it likewise, before turning away and heading into their respective ends.

Bloody hell bloody hell bloody hell… she needed a strategy. She didn't really believe that Morgan would harm her, not seriously at least, but she also couldn't have him talk to her like that and get away without a scratch at least. She knew however that her chances at bettering him were very limited. Maybe she would use her accidental spell creation after all… She'd really only stumbled across it because she'd been curious. After new year's, she just hadn't been able to get Snape's comment about attacking a mirror out of her head, and sooner or later she had researched a spell for creating a mirror outside (so she wouldn't have to carry it from the castle all the way to the lake) and tried it out for herself. The result of her researched spell in combination with a mixup with a duelling spell… had been quite fascinating, and not really what she had expected.

Upon the call to ready herself, Robin took on her most confident stance, and upon the go, she already spoke the broadest overall defense spell she knew before she even heard Morgan mutter a word. However she was very right to do so, as an infinitely short amount of time later a spell came crashing against her defense and almost made her trip over. Wow… he clearly wasn't holding back either.

Robin used the second of surprise on Morgan's part about not having hit Robin right on the first attempt to send a short row of attacks his way in return, which obviously he blocked with ease. But he waited after that, not attacking immediately like some of the students, actually all of the students, had. This probably was where the experience came in. Robin kept the words for a defense on her lips as she decided to wait as well, taking a fairly reluctant step forward, in the knowledge that sooner or later Morgan's hatred for her would force him to act. The room around them was almost dead silent, you could've heard a pin drop, as everyone was watching the absolutely unfair duel between a thirteen year old and a thirty year old. However as of yet, Robin was still standing, and she was determined to stay that way as long as she could. A moment later her guess proved to be right, as the professor sent a rather colourful row of attacks Robin's way, some with and some without words. Robin blocked some of them, and impulsively decided to simply physically dodge a few others. Just because nobody ever did that didn't mean it didn't work, right? And she could focus on getting the few spells she knew right without having to lose quality due to pace.

Morgan seemed surprised at that once more. Almost five minutes had passed, and Robin was still there. If that wasn't something, at least… She carefully studied his features, finding the surprise followed by anger and an obvious slipping of patience. Not good… As he raised his wand for what seemed to become a fairly brutal attack, Robin knew that it was time for her own little spell. Either it would work like she believed it to, or she would wake up in the hospital wing. Either was fine if it meant finally getting out of this stupid fight.

"Spectulo contemplari!" Robin got out a broken second before Morgan could voice his own spell, and immediately a sleek silver surface separated Professor Morgan from Robin herself. It spanned almost the size of a normal size wall, and reflected whatever lay on both sides like a mirror. Thus it was that Robin only saw her own messed up hair and blotchy face being thrown back at her instead of whatever was happening on the other side of the mirror wall. However seeing as Morgan had voiced his spell and yet it had not reached Robin, her plan truly seemed to have worked. That thesis was strongly supported by a loud thud, and a groan coming from the other side. A fair amount of gasps and giggles filled the room, and she allowed herself a brief smile of relief upon that. But it soon faded when she heard rather than saw magic being thrown against her mirror wall violently, and she took on a defensive stance once more. She had no idea how long the wall would throw Morgan's spells back at him before it broke under the assault, but she wanted to be prepared nonetheless. Soon enough the cracking sound of not-quite glass was to be heard, and as Robin moved to speak her defense, she already saw the fury filled eyes of her professor instead of her own, followed by a flash of red light. Then, everything was black.

… … …

If there ever had been something like an essence of headaches, Robin was sure that it was this exactly which had been given to her, as she opened her eyes with a groan. Her eyelids felt heavy like someone had clipped weights to them, and her head was throbbing so desperately that she couldn't even tell if there was anything else hurting in her body. But a headache at least meant she wasn't dead yet, and as she finally could will her eyes to open enough to actually see something, that suspicion was confirmed. She was lying in a bed in the hospital wing, for all she could tell, and the light of the candles on her nightstand felt like daggers to her brain. With another groan, she closed her eyes again. But the little relief this brought was taken right away again once the painful light was replaced by painful sound.

"Miss Mitchell! Good to have you back at last…" Madam Pomfrey's voice sent a new dagger through Robin's skull. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore." Robin croaked out in return, feeling like her throat had been sore indeed for weeks. "The light hurts."

"Nah, if you can sit up for a moment, I can give you something to take the headache and sensitivity away."

"Sure…" Robin sighed as she forced her eyes open once more and then scooted herself into a sitting position to still more or less blindly take the cup from the healer and gulp down whatever was in it. Tasted quite horrible… but after a few seconds the most urgent pain in her head, throat and eyes decreased, however not without making room for a new soreness of her body. With a small frown Robin took in the darkness of the room for a while, then looked back at the healer standing by her side. "Is it still Friday?"

"Well, yes… It is Friday, but it's been a week since you were brought here."

"A week?!" Robin gasped, staring at Madam Pomfrey incredulously. She did feel a little stiff, admittedly, but a week?! How?! "I can't have been sleeping for a week!"

"You were unconscious, not sleeping. But from what I was told, it actually is surprisingly early for you to be back up, considering what happened to you!"

"What… did happen to me, exactly?" A deep nervousness settled in the pit of Robin's stomach, as she merely remembered flashes of her fight with Professor Morgan. Had that pillock seriously sent her into a coma for a week?!

"I wasn't there to witness the incident, but from what they told me, you got hit by a spell meant for game hunting during that silly duelling workshop."

"...Game hunting?" Robin's eyes, her voice, her expression, everything was a perfect representation of her sheer incredulity. Was this a joke?!

"You know, hunting boar and stag and-"

"I know what game hunting is!" Robin groaned and rested her head back into her pillow with enough force to create a new headache. After staring up at the dark ceiling, she spoke on in a much calmer voice. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap…"

"Don't fret, I am used to far worse from you Slytherins."

"I'm not like them." She said more to herself than to Madam Pomfrey, but also didn't mind her possibly hearing.

"You should rest now. As I said, your waking was quite a bit earlier than expected, and your body still needs to recover from the internal bleedings. Is there someone you would like me to notify of your bettering state?"

"No… I think sleep will do me better than company at the moment." Also, Robin knew of no one who would actually care.

"Well, that's a first!" The healer let out a surprised laugh as she gathered the cup from Robin's nightstand. "Usually I am the one to tell you lot that."

"Told you I'm not like them…" Robin sighed as she was left to herself, likely being expected to sleep, but she remained sitting for a moment nonetheless. Her eyes wandered through the dark room, taking in a few other occupied beds, some surrounded by vases of flowers and treats, others quite as sterile as hers. Maybe she wasn't the only one in Hogwarts without friends… actually, very likely she wasn't the only one. A school housing that many people just was prone to have more than one loner (professors excluded from Robin's mental statistics, for now). As she laid down to get some sleep indeed, she thought that if today was Friday she must've missed two defense against the dark arts classes. The thought made her smile. However as she realized that on the flip side of that she had also missed potions, she buried her face in the pillow with a groan and forced her mind to stay blank until she fell asleep at last.

… … …

The next morning turned out to be a lot less painful in terms of waking up, however a lot more annoying in terms of company. Robin was rather suddenly ripped out of her sleep by Madam Pomfrey, and she was still hazed by sleep when she was told that she would be getting visitors in a few moments. While Robin honestly couldn't imagine who would come to visit her, especially this early on a Quidditch Saturday, she also didn't want to look like a total mess to whoever it might be. Thus she sat up a little too quickly for it not to hurt, then somewhat fixed her hair and finally rubbed the tiredness out of her face as good as she could. Half a minute later she saw that it had been well worth her effort, as an entire brigade of professors came heading her way. Great…

"Good morning, Miss Mitchell." Professor Dumbledore was the first to speak up as the (admittedly) small group came to stand at the end of Robin's bed. If the headmaster himself had made time to show up at her bedside, this surely would be interesting at least. "It was… reported to me, that you were awake. I hope this is not an unfortunate time?"

"Good morning… everyone." Robin replied a little awkwardly, looking from Dumbledore to McGonagall, to Morgan, to Snape and Madam Pomfrey at last. Why exactly were all these professors here in the first place…? Anyway, she would have to talk to them now. "It's as good a time as any. I mean, of course it's not unfortunate!" Could she be any more awkward? It was too early for this… her mind needed to wake up first.

"Madam Pomfrey has assured me that your health should allow a conversation, but we all shall see to it that this visit will be kept quick." Dumbledore said, with a diplomatic smile at Robin first and then a peculiar look at Morgan. "Go right ahead, Professor."

With a clearly feigned smile, Professor Morgan took a step forward, and Robin tensed up instinctively as he spoke up. "I would like to apologise to you, Miss Mitchell. My actions during last week's duelling workshop were, by all means, irresponsible and inappropriate." His words were as forced as his apologetic expression, and likely every single person in the room was aware of that as well. "It should have been obvious to me that a duel against a student, a mere second year student at that, was HIGHLY unfair. I apologize for letting myself get… carried away."

Too many eyes were on Robin then, expecting her to accept the apology and smile like a good girl would, and she felt like she had no other choice. Dumbledore might mean well in having Morgan apologize like a little kid, but in reality this was only making things much worse. Morgan would hate her even more for this, and Robin would only suffer more in return. Her only hope was that Morgan might lay low for a while after this, out of fear to get caught once again. That however didn't help her now. He hadn't even apologised for hurting her, or sending her into a freaking coma for a week… only for picking a fight with her despite being 'obviously superior'. Bloody bullshit. And while she couldn't tell him that, she certainly could play along.

"Thank you for the apology, professor." Robin replied with a diplomatic smile she borrowed from Dumbledore for the occasion. "I also would like to apologise. I hope my actions didn't lead to you getting hurt all too badly."

And while there definitely was a quiet snort coming from someone in the room, Robin couldn't tell who had been the origin. Her eyes were solely fixed on Morgan's, and she watched his pasty facade quake and falter as she herself wore innocence like a second skin.

"No, in fact, I am quite alright." Morgan chirped in a cutting tone. "Which, until just recently, couldn't be said about you in return."

"And whose fault is that?" Snape hissed lowly in an immediate reply, glaring daggers at Morgan who took an instinctive step backwards and thus away from both Robin and Snape.

"Now, now, Severus… I think now that Miss Mitchell is recovering, it is time to move on and forget this unfortunate accident." Dumbledore intervened before another hospital bed could get a new occupant. "However while unfortunate indeed, we all shall make sure that it is not forgotten, and we learn something out of it." The last part was spoken with another pointed glance at Professor Morgan, who finally gave up his act and scowled openly.

"If I am not mistaken, Damion, you mentioned an urgent appointment you have to attend to today. As you put it, this visit already delays you almost unfashionably… and seeing as we are done here, I'm sure you will be kindly excused." McGonagall spoke up after a short moment of uncomfortable silence, and Robin didn't miss the dismissive subtone. Why did this feel so much like she was kicking him out? Robin didn't mind one bit, though.

"Yes, ah, you're quite right, Minerva." He changed back from scowl to smile in an instant. "If you would indeed excuse me… headmaster, Severus…" With one look at each man, Morgan turned on his heel and almost fled from the room. Robin let out an audible sigh once the door had closed behind him.

"It appears to me, Miss Mitchell, that you and Professor Morgan have quite the… mutual distaste for each other. Did I assess that correctly?" Dumbledore said a moment later and drew Robin's attention back towards him.

"Yes." She replied without even a hinch of embarrassment, which actually surprised her a little bit herself.

"Well? No excuses?" McGonagall asked with a risen eyebrow, but she sounded surprised rather than scolding, which only assured Robin in her eerie calm that she still didn't quite understand why she had it in the first place. Maybe Madam Pomfrey had given her some drugs that were only now kicking in, or she'd hit her head a little harder than she'd been told… but she just didn't feel like giving half truths right now.

"Professor Dumbledore didn't ask for my excuses, I believe… only if he's correct about the mutual dislike between Professor Morgan and me. To which the answer was a simple ‘yes’. There's not more to it. If you were hoping for me to elaborate however, I can assure you that I have none and never had the intention to act upon my dislike. I don't want to be disrespectful, no matter what he thinks about me, but I quite frankly refuse to take all of his acts without reacting within the boundaries he has set himself."

"I see." Dumbledore answered with a humored smile that mainly confused Robin (she hadn't said anything funny, had she?), while McGonagall simply looked at Robin like the girl had grown a second head. But it was Dumbledore who continued. "Thank you for your honesty, Robin, it is sometimes hard to come by in this castle and therefore all the more appreciated. I hope you will have fully recovered from this unpleasantry soon." With that he bowed his head a little, smiled, and made his way out as well. That still left Snape and McGonagall, with the latter still looking too surprised for words.

Thus it was Professor Snape who now moved to place the book she'd been reading last week on her nightstand, again in perfect neutrality and without the daggers from minutes ago in his eyes. "We wouldn't want you to miss out on your education while stuck in here, would we now?"

"Of course not, sir." Robin smiled up at him in appreciation. He likely could guess that Robin would be bored out of her mind if she was stuck in here until tomorrow, but of course he would never admit to actually doing something nice out of his own interest. So why not blame it on education, sure.

"Once you are well enough to, you will have to enlighten me about that spell creation of yours…" He mused with another look at Robin, and a tiny not-smirk, then turned to McGonagall. "I believe we have a game of Quidditch to attend."

As they made their way out of the infirmary, Robin barely picked up on McGonagall asking, "Did you teach her to speak in cryptic remarks like that, Severus?!", before the doors finally fell shut behind them as well.

As Robin flipped the newly regained book open a few minutes later, she almost wasn't even surprised anymore to find another small piece of parchment falling into her lap. With a smile on her face, she scanned the spidery handwriting.

You did NOT hear this from me under any circumstance and you will not tell a single soul about it either: You won the duel against Morgan. He used multiple spells that were clearly against the set of rules, and thus he was disqualified subsequently, in private by the headmaster himself. You were better indeed. 

- Snape

Robin's grin took over her entire face, but she just couldn't help it. This was amazing, even if no one could ever know about it. Snape and Dumbledore knew, she knew, and Morgan knew, and that was enough for now. It might only be a formality that led her to win in the end, or rather his mistake of being a cheating idiot, but she at least could happily live in the knowledge that she had NOT lost to Morgan. Oh, she really couldn't wait to tell Snape all about her mirror spell indeed. Perhaps he would actually be proud of her for once.

______________________________

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[yaysof11037]

Can we get part 2 of Michi's death? Can it involve Mondo getting therapy? And lots of hugs? And realising its not his fault????

Hi!! So sorry for the long wait on this! Was working on other things around this time! But now I’ve finished those other things, so now I can answer this ask! Yes, Mondo will absolutely get lots and lots of hugs and comfort from Nekomaru!! Ahhh, it takes a good while for Mondo to truly realize that the accident wasn’t his fault, but Nekomaru and Daiya will do their best to convince him it’s not his fault!

Anyways, here is the long awaited sequel to Cut Short!! Again, so sorry this took so long! Hope this doesn’t disappoint! Also, if y’all want a break from the angst, just drop a fluffy suggestion in the ask box!

Repairing A Shattered Diamond (The Death Of Michi Part Two)

Mondo hadn’t been in class for a while…

At first, Nekomaru found that to be normal. It was normal to take time off to grieve for a loss. Many of his friends had done that before. He’s even done that to grieve for his grandparents (on his mother’s side) back in his first year of middle school. So it wouldn’t have been a surprise for Mondo to take some time off to grieve for his friend.

It was when almost the entire month of January passed he became concerned. Not to mention that Mondo hadn’t been responding to his calls, texts, and voicemails.

And now, here he was. Standing at the biker’s doorstep. Hoping, praying that Mondo was doing okay. Hoping that he was alive at least.

He had only met Takemichi Yukimaru once in his life. That was when he had gone over to Mondo’s house for the first time to meet both him and Daiya Owada. (Will go into more detail about that in a separate ask lol). He seemed like a really cool kid. Hell, he kinda saw him as a little brother upon first meeting him.

It was a shame that was the only time he had ever gotten the chance to talk to the poor kid…

For someone so full of life like Michi to die at such a young age… Nekomaru’s heart ached for the kid just thinking about it. So… even if he tried, he couldn’t even imagine just how horrible both Mondo and Daiya felt.

Nekomaru was about to knock on the door, but hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he should be doing this.

But, after receiving a few texts of encouragement on his phone from his friends and family, he wasn’t going to back out now. Not after he’s drove all the way to Mondo’s house through the snow and ice on the road. And so, with a wave of uncertainty and determination, he knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

There was a loud curse, followed by someone shouting, “Coming!” He then heard the loud footsteps approaching the door. Right off the bat, he knew that voice didn’t belong to Mondo…

“Oh. Hey Nidai. What’s up?”

“Hey Daiya. Is uh… is Mondo here?”

Daiya’s smile had faltered slightly as he asked him this. That let Nekomaru know that something was wrong.

“Yeah. I dunno if he’s expecting visitors though…”

So Mondo wasn’t expecting company? That made Nekomaru even more unsure of himself…

“Um… is it cool if I come in? I just wanna talk to him for a bit. See how he’s doing, y’know?”

“Yeah, of course.”

After walking inside, Daiya tells him that Mondo was up in his room.

“He’s been sitting up there ever since the accident…”

“He never leaves his room?”

“No. Only time he does, it’s just to take a piss or something. Been trying to get him out of there for weeks. But… he just won’t come out…”

Nekomaru noticed the man beginning to tear up after his sentence. He could tell that he’s tried everything to get his brother to come out of his room. He put a hand on Daiya’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“I’ll go talk to him.”

Daiya let out a sigh and wiped away his tears.

“You can try. Doubt he’ll listen to ya though.”

After pausing for a moment, Nekomaru made his way up the steps and got in front of Mondo’s bedroom door.

‘Here goes nothing…’

Knock knock.

“Um… hey Mondo. It’s me, Nekomaru. Can I… can I talk to you for a bit?”

Dead silence had followed his question, prompting him to knock once more.

“Mondo, can we ta—”

“I’m busy…”

Bullshit. Mondo had been sulking in his room for one too many weeks. He needs to come out at some point.

“With what?”

“Homework…”

Ah, he supposed that was valid. Taka did take it upon himself to bring him his missed assignments after all. But… he still has to get out of his room at some point…

“Need help with it?”

“No.”

“…”

“Can I come in?”

“…”

“Please? I’ve… I’ve been worried about you…”

“…. Fine…”

Without hesitation, Nekomaru opened the door. He was greeted with a messy room and his boyfriend with his back turned and facing the window. There was a small pile of unattended worksheets on his unmade bed, dirty clothes scattered across the bedroom floor, and a plate of tamago kake gohan that had gone completely cold at this time on his nightstand. The unpleasant scent of BO lightly filled the air, but it didn’t bother Nekomaru. He was used to that scent, since he spends a lot of his free time at the gym.

He inched closer to his bed, being careful not to step on any of the biker’s clothes. He eventually made it to the edge of his bed, unsure of what to do next.

“Can I sit with you?”

“Do whatever you want.”

Nekomaru slowly sat down on the bed and moved closer to him. He had managed to get a closer look at his face. He still had his eyeliner caked on his face from many days ago. It looked to have been smeared and smudged after it trickled down his cheeks along with his tears. His hair was no longer in his signature pompadour and was instead down and disheveled. A few strands of hair were sticking up after going undone for so long. His lips looked very dry and cracked. Nekomaru assumed that was because he hadn’t been getting properly hydrated. He always told him how important it was to drink water daily. He wanted to tell him that now, but he knew that it wasn’t the right time and place to do so.

“How are you feeling?”

That was a painfully obvious question that he mentally kicked himself for. Mondo obviously wasn’t feeling good, not after all the time he had taken off from school. Not to mention the state of his room and his face was a dead giveaway.

“I’m fine… you?”

Yet, Mondo still felt the need to lie about how he was really feeling. It was an obvious lie. One that Nekomaru didn’t feel entirely comfortable calling him out for.

“I’m okay…”

The two boys remained silent for a while, both uncomfortable about the current situation. Eventually, Nekomaru’s attention was drawn towards the object Mondo held tightly in his hands.

“That the necklace you wore when you met my family?”

“Mhmm.”

“I like it a lot. It looks good on you.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“I dunno…”

“Did someone give it to you?”

“Mhmm…”

“That was nice of them. Who gave it to you?”

An uncomfortable silence followed Nekomaru’s question. He looked down at the diamond shaped stone pendant, then back up at Mondo.

“Who gave it to you?”

“…”

“…. Michi…”

“Oh…”

He understood why Mondo had hesitated to answer that question. He decided not to press upon the issue with the pendant anymore. But what else could he talk about? How is he supposed to comfort his boyfriend? He’s never really done something like this before…

“It’s… it’s kinda funny. He gave it to me cuz I was nervous about making a good first impression that day. Said it was for good luck or some shit… guess it kinda worked…”

Well, he supposed all he can do is listen. He’s gotten Mondo to talk now (somehow), the least he can do is lend him an ear. So, he simply nodded and waited for him to continue.

“I uh… kinda forgot to give it back to him… until uh… that party we threw for him… I tried giving it back, but he said I could keep it. He… he said I could wear it…”

Nekomaru understood where this was going. Mondo was having that troubling feeling that the pendant somehow protected him on that night. If the situation didn’t end in such a tragedy, some would say a miracle happened. Nekomaru wasn’t sure about believing that the pendant had actually protected him, for he didn’t really think there would’ve been much of a difference if he hadn’t wore it.

“Fuck… I shoulda just gave it back to him anyways…”

Mondo clutched the necklace tightly and held it up to his heart. He then looked up at the ceiling and cleared his throat. Nekomaru could see tears forming in the biker’s eyes. He put a hand over his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“Hey… it’s okay…”

“Don’t. Don’t even say that to me.”

Shit, he fucked that up. It obviously wasn’t okay. He pulled his hand away from his shoulder, ashamed of himself. Shortly after, Mondo looked up at him rather coldly.

“Why are you here?”

Nekomaru had never heard Mondo use that kind of tone around him before. It was a jarring mixture of melancholy and annoyance. That tone kind of scared him in a way. But… he wasn’t gonna let that stop him from being there for his boyfriend.

“I… I just wanted to check on you. See how you were doing. That’s all.”

“Well, I’m fucking fine. Can you leave now?!”

If that was the best thing to do, he would’ve left Mondo to sulk a bit more. But Nekomaru was stubborn. And he was never the type to ignore a teammate in need. Especially his boyfriend.

“I also wanted to talk. Or… at least give you a chance to talk to me. I’ll listen to you, you know?”

“There’s nothing else to talk about. I’m fine, okay?! So just go home! Don’t waste your time on me.”

“I didn’t drive all the way here for nothing.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have drove here at all! Why the fuck would you wanna see someone like me?! I MURDERED someone! I killed my own best friend! I… I killed my little bro…”

Nekomaru was shocked to hear Mondo use such strong words. He knew he wasn’t the type to kill, let alone, hurt someone on purpose.

“You didn’t kill anyone. He saved your life. It was an accident. You were just drunk. You didn’t know what was gonna ha—”

“I shouldn’t have been drinking at all! Don’t you get it?! If I hadn’t challenged Michi to that dumb fucking race, if I didn’t drive my stupid ass into traffic then—then…”

Mondo let out a quiet sob as memories of that awful night played back in his mind. The painful look in Michi’s eyes as he stared back up at him, barely clinging on to his life.

“H-he would still be here…”

And with that, he flopped onto his bed and shoved his face into one of his pillows, trying desperately to muffle his “pathetic” sobbing.

It broke Nekomaru’s heart to see the boy he cared about in such a sorrowful state. In an attempt to ease his pain, he gently tousled his hair and said the words that played on loop in his mind ever since he arrived on his doorstep;

“It’s not your fault.”

Mondo lifted his head from his pillow and looked at his boyfriend in shock.

“W-why? Why are you still here?! Aren’t you mad?!”

Nekomaru gave him a sympathetic look as he continued to run his fingers through his hair.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“D-don’t you understand?! You shouldn’t even be around me after what I did! I’m a fucking MURDERER!! Aren’t you… aren’t you AFRAID of me?!”

Nekomaru put both his hands over his shoulders and gave him a sad, gentle smile.

“Don’t go around calling yourself a murderer, cuz you’re not. And I could never be afraid of you. I… I care about you a lot…”

That wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell him something more. Something that means just a little more than ‘I care about you.’

“Well, you shouldn’t. What if I do something like this again, huh?! What if I kill someone again?! What if I killed you?!”

“You won’t. I know you won’t. You never have, and you never will.”

Mondo wanted to believe him. He really did. But… he just couldn’t. He couldn’t help but continue to cry and stare at him in disbelief.

“W-why would you even say that?! Y-you don’t know what the future holds! D-don’t you realize how bad I’ve fucked him over?! Tomorrow’s his birthday, y’know?! He’s supposed to turn sixteen! Daiya and I got him his own car and everything!”

He tried to wipe away the tears and mucus dripping down his face before continuing.

“A-and he was supposed to s-start school again! He’s supposed to be here! H-he’s supposed to be coming back from his new school, t-tell me about his day, t-talk about the friends he was supposed to make. H-he’s supposed to be out in the yard running around in the snow and throwing s-snowballs at the neighbors’ house!”

The memory of Michi bleeding out on the pavement, feebly gasping for air and clinging onto Mondo’s jacket was burned into his brain and playing on loop, taunting and tormenting him. Reminding him of his fuck up. Reminding him of the boy who will still be fifteen ten years later.

Forever fifteen…

Forever a kid…

Forever a kid who didn’t deserve to die…

“B-but I took that away from him! I took away his only chance to grow up and live his own life! A-and now… now he’s dead! And it’s all my fucking fault!”

He buried his face into his hands and let out a few shaky breaths for air. He then said something that Nekomaru would never forget.

Something that cracked his heart in two;

“I-I… I should’ve been hit by that goddamn truck instead… I had it coming… I deserved it…”

Suddenly, he felt a pair of hands cup his face and lift it up.

“Don’t you ever say that.”

The tears finally began to form in Nekomaru’s eyes as he gazed into his boyfriend’s glistening lavender eyes.

“Listen to me. No one deserves something like that. There are people out there who care about you. Your brother cares about you. All our friends care about you. I care about you. And… I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without you.”

His voice was so calm, quiet, and soothing to Mondo. That was a certain kind of tone that he hadn’t heard from Nekomaru before.

“I… I may not have known Takemichi for long, but I believe he wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up over what happened. He… didn’t really seem like the kid to blame other people for stuff like that.”

“B-but what if—”

“He was your best friend, wasn’t he? Blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault doesn’t sound like something a best friend would do.”

“But… but it is my fault. I-it’s all my fucking fault! Why c-can’t you understand that?!”

Mondo let a few more hot tears stream down his face while Nekomaru refrained from shedding any more tears in order to be strong for him. He felt like allowing himself to cry any longer would only make his boyfriend feel worse. So, he gently wiped away Mondo’s tears with his thumbs instead.

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. Don’t even blame yourself for something like this.”

Mondo couldn’t help but let out a choked sob at his boyfriend’s kind words.

“W-why are you telling me this?! The fuck makes you think this ain’t my fault, huh?!”

“Because it’s the truth. I don’t just think it’s not your fault, I know it’s not your fault.”

“Well, if you’re telling me the truth, why don’t I believe it then?! How do I know ya ain’t lying to me?!”

“Would I ever lie to you?”

Mondo hesitated for a moment. He couldn’t really think of time where Nekomaru had ever lied to him. It would simply be out of character for him to lie to his face.

“…. No…”

“So how come you don’t believe it’s not your fault?”

“I… b-because…”

“…”

“I-it is my fault! It just is! W-why are you even trying to tell me it’s not?! Why are you STILL trying to help me?! I-I don’t deserve your help! I don’t d-deserve you! Y-you shouldn’t be with a fucking MURDERER! You—”

Without a second thought, Nekomaru pulled Mondo into the tightest hug he had ever given him. He absolutely hated hearing those words coming from his boyfriend’s mouth.

“Mondo…”

“…”

“… I… I love you. You know that?”

Holy shit. This was the FIRST time Mondo had ever heard Nekomaru say he loved him. Not that it was much of a surprise. He kind of had the feeling that he loved him. He just wasn’t expecting him to actually SAY it.

“I’m only trying to help because I care about you. I’ve been worried sick about you. Y-you haven’t really been responding to my messages… I-I just wanted to know if you were okay…”

A new wave of guilt had splashed over Mondo. He was right. He had been ignoring everyone’s messages on his phone. Including his.

“That’s why I came here. To check on you. To… talk to you.”

This time, Mondo remained silent. He didn’t have any energy left to tell Nekomaru that he shouldn’t have come. That he shouldn’t be visiting a murderer.

“I don’t want you to blame yourself for this. Sure, you were driving drunk. And yeah, that was pretty stupid. But you didn’t kill Takemichi. You weren’t the one driving the truck. It was an accident.”

Mondo still wasn’t entirely convinced that this wasn’t his fault. But there was no use in arguing with Nekomaru.

“So just… please… don’t call yourself a murderer. Because you’re not. You’re an amazing person Mondo. And I love you. So much… don’t ever forget that, okay? Takemichi wouldn’t want you to forget that.”

God, Nekomaru was just so sweet. Even after Mondo tried to push him away, he still stayed right beside him. And that’s when Mondo finally let out the waterworks he had been holding back. He buried his face into Nekomaru’s chest and sobbed into it. He felt his hand rubbing circles into his back and his other hand stroking his messy hair.

“I-I’m sorry… I’m s-so sorry!”

“It’s okay. Just let it all out. I’m here for you.”

He continued to let out a few more ugly sobs as Nekomaru shushed him and whispered words of comfort into his ear. What the hell did he do to deserve someone so loving and caring like Nekomaru?

As both the boys sat on the bed, holding each other tightly, Daiya was peeking through the door. He couldn’t help but let out a few tears of his own, for he was so grateful that Nekomaru had finally gotten his little brother to open up.

From that day on, Mondo started returning to school and catching up on his assignments. Nekomaru, Taka, and Leon helped him with it, of course (Leon’s definition of “helping” was sneaking a photo of Taka’s homework and sending it to Mondo for him to copy). The pain and guilt didn’t vanish right away, but his boyfriend, his brother, and his friends stood by his side and slowly helped him to feel better every step of the way.