#how they seem like all they wanna do is drive home how pointless everything is

[southpawscrewball]

I fucking hate zombie stories

[pumpkzsafeplace]

For you and/or your daddy

(Vent, tw- mentions of depression, aniexty, ed, and unintentional sh)

-----

It's getting bad again... I've lost interest in pretty much everything. I only really feel happy when I'm small. Lately everything just seems kinda pointless. Everyday I wakeup, lay in bed for awhile, get up, and so sit on the couch all day. Eventually my mom will text me and give me some chores. I don't know why but everytime she texts me it just makes me mad. I know I don't have anything better to do but it just kinda makes me mad that all I do is chores. I've hardly left the house all summer, maybe 12 times. And 3 of those times were to go to school. I've also noticed that I've been eating less. I know it's not good for me but I don't know what to do. I've never really talked to any of my friends about my ed and even if I wanted to talk to one of them about it I don't really know how to bring it up. I've been shakey recently and I don't know if it's from aniexty or from a lack of me eating. I just feel kinda spaced out most of the time and I don't like it. I use to go to therapy back when I was in 6th grade (for context im going into 9th grade) and I've thought about going back. I didn't really like therapy, it might of just been my therapist, but the whole experience just wasn't very good. Anyways, the other day I accidentally did something and it really hurt. I have a bad habit of digging my nails into my skin. When we were driving back home my baby sister started crying and I didn't even realize that I was digging my nails into my hand until after it was too late. It's still healing, but it hurts really bad :(

A lil' cg update: I still have a cg, the only time we talk is when I message her first. We barley talk and I honestly keep forgetting that I even have a cg. I know that she's really busy but I kinda feel like she doesn't even wanna be my cg. She doesn't really baby me at all, or talk to me very much and it makes me sad..

I'm really sorry for rambling so much.. I just really don't know what to do anymore. I just know I needed to talk to someone before it got too bad....

-👑

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

hihi lil bug’ 🌼

💼: Hello little one, I decided to take this one if you don’t mind- due to the sensitive topics.

I’m sorry it’s gotten bad again- our minds can be dangerous things sometimes. Especially if we fuel them with things going wrong, then can spin it and almost make us feel out of control of our own bodies.

The same happened with Pumpkin- well still does from time to time. Have you tried to make any friends? That helped Pumpkin a lot. I know you can do something on here- like an application of some sort to help? But i’m not to sure I’m sorry.

Also, not leaving the house doesn’t equal to you being bad/ or you being worthless. Sometimes time passes by us so quickly, you can simply blink and it’s the end of summer. And just because you didn’t go out and do this wonderful and spontaneous plans, doesn’t mean that your summer was a waste. You looked after your body, you rested and let your mind heal after school- that’s more important than anything.

I do think therapy is a good choice though love, especially regarding the eating disorder. Pumpkin never went and she still struggles so much now- so please- if you see the signs early, go and get some help with how to cope. You should never have to feel like you’re unworthy of food, or that food is a chore.

If it’s due to the depression- then use quick meals. Noodles, Ready Meals- they’re all accessible and can be made quickly. Please just make sure to have something in your tummy, okay?

Pumpkin used to dig her nails into her palms when she was stressed before things progressed & got worse- I know that sometimes it can’t be helped but maybe a fidget toy can be used instead? Just something to play with to distract your hands whilst your mind is going through this.

Regarding your CG- maybe it’s time to look for another. If you’re not feeling looked after then maybe you need to speak to them and explain how your needs aren’t being matched. If they’re going through something themselves then it’s understandable- but communication is a key thing & stuff can’t be solved without it.

I’d have a talk to them and see what’s going on. If they’re still refusing to talk or take action, then maybe look for another. Like i said earlier- applications and such could be a good help.

I hope I have helped- I know you wanted Pumpkin but this hit a little too close to home as one would say.

Big hugs from her though, and Me and Good luck.

[found--family]

i finally finished Bridgewater season 2!

(i know i'm way behind but i was listening on my drive to and from work but then i lost my job and suddenly listening at home felt weird but i binged the last handful of eps this long weekend so now i wanna share some thoughts..) 

best finale bits: 

- realising francine was spn alumn/battlestar galactica's tricia helfer (wish I'd realised this sooner bc i think i would've enjoyed her character more) 

- jeremy becoming an unexpected father to a time travelling kid he spent the whole season vocally not giving a shit about (serious s13!grieving!dean vibes here) 

- the setup for season 3! would love to get some pov from folks in the fae realm! 

best s2 bits: 

- aside from misha, soni has been my fave thing about this series (his voice acting is So Good) and this season we got more vippin and more of him interacting with other characters! 

- learning more about jeremy: he visited fairyland as a kid! he was a teen wiccan! he just wants a friend! he's happy without a partner and kids! (the phonecall to his british colleague was a fave scene) 

- peyton! wish we'd gotten more of her, hope she returns next season. 

- more hillary! she's not in it much but we got a few long scenes with her and it was great to hear her flex her voice acting chops. 

- tudyk! i was sceptical at first (i'd really been looking forward to fillion) but he was stellar. his distinct voice is perfect for voice acting and his vocal control and timing was really superb. his and misha's scenes were a highlight but there were also a few delightful and emotional scenes with other characters (including a makeover!) 

- MONSTERS. one of the huge draws of this podcast for me was the supernatural element. this season had a bunch of different creatures appear and there were mentions of way more that had me googling and learning so much (yay fic fodder!) 

a few s2 cons (imho): 

- this season is a lot compared to season 1. more characters, more plot, more at stake. it was hard to keep up with what was going on specifically with all the fae stuff. i had to relisten to numerous scenes multiple times to grasp what was happening.

- it kinda feels like season 1 was written not knowing how everything would play out bc all the fae stuff feels shoehorned into the relevant parts of the s1 narrative. they make it work but some explanations seemed like a bit of a stretch. 

- as much as i love her on-screen, i didn't really enjoy helfer in this. i don't know whether it's because i found her character annoying from the jump or if it was her vocal style being a little too overdramatic and on the nose (that could've been a director's decision in which case it makes sense, but i really didn't enjoy her personality as the legend tripper or her almost comical portrayal as fae) 

- the finale was a lot of exposition, and it got very convoluted with different characters wanting to sacrifice themselves over each other, and the whole fae deal thing was still unclear and confusing despite being explained. tbh i was bored for most of it. 

- the first 19 minutes of the finale was an uninterrupted convo between jeremy and francine. that's too long, it's half the damn episode. and francine was doing most of the talking (almost monologuing) and since she's the badguy of the season it felt like a poor choice (or maybe that's just my bias for not liking her portrayal?) 

- anne and thomas going through the portal made total sense and I'm glad that's what happened bc thomas was sick and anne had missed her life BUT that made all the arguments over who should go that much more pointless. the arguments felt like filler, going round in circles with people ignoring each other's sound reasoning. 

- there were quite a few noticeable editing mistakes this season: chopped dialogue poorly stitched together, misspoken words, and dead air that did nothing to set the tone but instead felt like they hadn't bothered fixing. 

closing thoughts: 

i preferred the mystery of season 1. this season was a lot of focus on the how's and why's of all the monster and fae stuff with character studies crammed between, whereas season 1 was more concise in the investigation and character focus and there was always room to wonder what was going on (i preferred that) but there was also room for the narrative to breathe; season 2 is crowded. it's a lot of fast dialogue and info dumping, a lot of characters - some interesting, some annoying, a few pointless. I'd listen again for clarity and enjoyment of particular scenes and dynamics, but more often than not i found myself confused, left with more questions than answers, and therefore not being able to enjoy the journey. there were definite high points, including the many monster cameos, but it lost that eery feel that season 1 did so well; this season felt like multiple genres rolled into one with all of them fighting for dominance - horror, fantasy, drama, mystery - whereas season 1 melded themes and genres effortlessly. season 2 also didn't have the emotional chords that season 1 played so beautifully (I'm looking at you, emotional jeremy realising his whole life was a lie) the finale should've been a tear-jerker, it wasn't. 

it's always hard to follow the success of a first season, especially when the second decides to explain all the mysteries season 1 set up - and given how season 1 ended there was a lot that needed explaining. unfortunately (for me) the story felt caught up in the details and yet it explained things without explaining things leaving me wanting for clarity that never came. often it didn't bother setting the tone (or an intriguing tone) and more characters meant less misha which is always disheartening. 

i'm looking forward to season 3 with papa!jeremy(?) and fae realm content (I'd love more fae) i just hope they can recapture the thematic feel of season 1 (it can be a different vibe but it has to permeate the narrative) and refocus on our main folk (jeremy, vippin, anne, thomas, olivia) instead of introducing too many new characters and elements that will steal more scene time. 

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Bottom Bunk ~ Chan [M]

[CREDIT TO GIF OWNER]

WORDS: 0.9K

GENRE: Smut

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!reader

The bunk bed shook and squeaked as Chan climbed into it beside you, it had to have been late if Chan was home so you rolled over in the dark to greet him, 

"Hi," You whispered as he pulled your head to rest on his bare chest, he kissed the top of your head gently. 

"Hi baby, why aren't you asleep?" You were both whispering since he shared a room with Changbin and he was right below you on the bottom bunk,

"Couldn't sleep, not tired." He nodded and closed his eyes as you did the same you always found it harder to sleep without him around he wrapped his arm around you as you turned away from him pulling you closer as you spooned to get to sleep.

You weren't sure how much time had passed but neither of you was asleep, you could feel how hard Chan was through his thin boxers and it was driving up the wall. The feeling of him being that hard made you want to turn around and take him into your hand but you couldn't. There was some unspoken rule that he and the boys would never do anything in the same room as the other with their partner but right now the rule seemed pointless. Changbin was fast asleep and could sleep through a foghorn so you not-so-innocently pretended to try and get comfortable, wiggling and brushing your ass hard against Chan. His hand landed on your waist to stop you as he whispered in your ear, 

"D-Don't," He almost sounded like a beg from him which meant he was really horny, Chan ever only got this needy and whiney when he was extremely desperate for your touch so you smirked continuing to rub against him.

"I'm getting comfortable." You whined in a whisper but he pulled your ass back against his cock holding you in place and making you whimper as he brushed against you, 

"Don't tease me when we can't do anything," He kissed up your neck biting down on your ear as you tried not to moan out even a little.

"Not nice is it?" You ignored his snarky remark and run your hand down between your bodies, palming him through his boxers and smirking as you felt his cock twitch and his hips buck into your touch. 

"I think someone is needier than me," He groaned lowly as you pushed your hand into his boxers and began to pump him slowly making him let out low groans whenever you went too slowly. 

"C-Changbin is right there," He whined but you didn't care anymore, it was clear that Chan needed a release so you pulled the sheets over your head and shimmied down towards his cock licking small stripes over his slit before taking just his tip into your mouth, 

"No teasing," He ordered pushing himself into your mouth until he felt the back of your throat and he let out an extra loud moan, you both froze as the bed shifted. No one moved, Changbin snored so you began to slowly bob your head up and down, massaging what you couldn't fit of Chan into your mouth.

"S-Shit." His hands worked their way into your hair pulling as he bucked up into your mouth forgetting about the squeaking bed as lust took over him,

"Don't stop," He pleaded looking at you as he pulled the covers off to look at you while you did this to him, your hand raised up to play with his balls and his head rolled back against the pillows groaning as you swirled your tongue around him, pulling off only to lick from base to tip all while pumping him quickly. 

"P-Please Y/n," You'd never heard him so whiney before and it was turning you on with each whine he let out, he was normally the one in charge but you liked the sudden power switch. 

"You wanna cum Channie?" You cooed at him as you came up to kiss his neck, pumping him quickly in your hand feeling him twitch only to slow your pumps back down and run your thumb over his slit, 

"Y-Yes, please let me cum." You smirked kissing up yo his ear and whispering, 

"Where do you wanna cum?" He shook his head not knowing but you tutted at him slowing down to a stop but he cried out lowly. 

"N-No please don't stop-" You began pumping again, 

"Answer the question like a good boy," He growled at the nickname but you waited for him to answer you, 

"Down your throat, w-want you to take it all." You kissed back down his chest and licked the precum from his tip before taking him back into your mouth, going down as far as you could without gagging to loudly, bobbing your head quickly as you felt him twitch again. 

"C-Close," He warned you and you looked up at him squeezing his hand to let him know it was okay for him to cum, 

"Oh fuck, I-I'm gonna cum," He grunted holding you down on him as came into your mouth, his warm load hit the back of your throat shocking you a little but you let him finish before you pulled off and swallowed everything for him to see. 

"Such a good boy," You cooed going back up to him to continue but he pinned you below him, 

"We're past my whiney stage baby," He chuckled running his hands down your body, 

"Now it's your turn to beg." He kissed you roughly all thoughts of Changbin being below you vanished from both of you.

A/n: Just a small something cause I had super bad writers block

Tagline: @snowy-meowl​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @yunhoesss​

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.

> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.

  “ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

   ‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”

a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem. 

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”

     The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.

  “Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.

  “Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.

  “You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.

  “John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.

  “Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.

   You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.

  “Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.

  “Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”

  “Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”

  “It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.

  “Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.

  “Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.

  “You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.

  After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.

  “Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”

  “Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.

  “I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.

  “Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”

  You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

  “Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.

  The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

  You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.

  Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.

  You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.

  You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.

  Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.

  Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.

  Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.  

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

  He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.

  “C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”

  The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.

  “Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”

  “Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.

  The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.

  “We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.

  “Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.

  “I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.

  “I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.

  To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.

  On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.

  “Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.

  “You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.  

  “Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.

  “You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.

  “Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”

  “As in bi-curious?”

  “Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.

  When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.

    ||\\

  It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.

  She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV.  “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”

  “Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

  “Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.

  It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.

  The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.

  Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.

  “Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.

  “Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

  “C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

  “Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”

  You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.

  “Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.

  “Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.

  “Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.

  Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.

Okay, think.

  Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.

  “Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.

  He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.

  “He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.

  “None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”

  When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.

  “Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.

  “You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”

  Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

  “Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”

  He’s lying. You can tell.

  “Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.

  “Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”

  He’s angry.

  You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.

  “Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”

  He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.

  “Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”

  As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.

  Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.

   Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.

  The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.

  “Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

  “Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

  You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.    

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

  You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.

  “I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”

  “Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”

  He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.

  Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.

  “Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.

  “Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.

  “It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”

  He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.

  “Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

  “I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.

  “Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”

  “Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”

  “Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“

   She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

     You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.

  At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.

  “Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.

  “You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.

  “It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.

  “I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.

  “Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”

  “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”

  “Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”

  “I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.

  “Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.

  Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.

  As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.

  You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-

  “Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”

  “What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

  “Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.

  “Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

  “Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.

  “You’re bossy today.”

  You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.

  “Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.

  “I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.  

  All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”

  “Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.

  “I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.

  “Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

  “Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

  “Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”

  “I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.

  “I parked on a different spot,” he responded.

  “Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”

  “Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.

  “I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.

        ||\\

  You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.

  “I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.

  “I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

  “Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”

  “I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”

  “How can you even say that?” he barked.

  “Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.

  He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“

  “Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.

  “Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.

  “It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”

  “I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.

||\\

   A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it. 

   And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close. 

   Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together.  You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.

  “How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

   He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.

  “I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.

  “You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

  “That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”

  You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”

  “It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.

  “You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.

  “It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”

  “Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”

  He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

 “Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

  “I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

  “Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-

  Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.

  As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.

  Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

  She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.

  “Last time you said that…”

  “I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

  “Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.

  He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.

  “Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.

  “Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.

  “You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.

  “Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.

  “Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.

  “I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.

  Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

  “What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.

  I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.

||\\

     You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.

  But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.

  “Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.

  “Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.

  “I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.

  He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.

  “I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”

  “So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.

  “I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.

  “Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”

   He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.

  “Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant. 

  “Yes?”

  “Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly. 

  That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.

  “For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”

   By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.

  “That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.

  “What about you?”

  “Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”

  “But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”

  “That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.

  Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.  

  You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.

  He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.

   Well, shit.

  He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.

  You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.

  You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.

  “You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath.  You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.

  You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”

  “Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

  “What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.

  “We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

  “Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.

  You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.

  “Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”

  “Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”

  ||\\

  He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.

  He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.

  He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.

  So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.

 ||\\

    “What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”

  Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.

  You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.

  “We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

  “What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”

  “Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”

  “Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.

  “Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

  “Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.

  As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.

  “Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.

  “Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”

  He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“

  Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.

  “Yoongi, what-“

  “Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.

  No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.

  At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.

  “Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.

   Brother?

  “How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.

  “Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”

  “Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

  “People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.

  “I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.

  “Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”

  “I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.

  “Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”

  “Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

  “It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.

  Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“

  “Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”

  “Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.

  Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”

  “Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”

  Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.    

  There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.

  “How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.

  He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.

  “I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”

  “What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.

  “Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.

  This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

  “Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

  You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.  

  “Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.

   ||\\

                                                       “Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

     It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…

  No. He promised.

  You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.

  Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.

  Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.

  You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.

  “Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.

  “When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”

  “I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

  “Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.

  He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.

  “I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”

  “What, now? Y/N-“

  “I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly

  Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”

  He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.

  Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.

  You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.

  You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

  “Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”

  He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.

  “Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”

  Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

  As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.

  “Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.

  “No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.

  When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.

  Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.

 ||\\

    The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.

  During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.

  “Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

  The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.

  “Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”

  “Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.

  “It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”

  “You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”

  You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.

  “It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.

  Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.

  Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.

  Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.

  “Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.

  You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…

  “Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”

  You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.

  “So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.

  “Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.

  “I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.

  “Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.

  “I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.

  “Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.

  “Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

  Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.

  “H-How come?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”

  You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”

  “Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.

  “That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  “Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

  “I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.

  You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.

  “Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”

  Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”

  “If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”

  He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.

  “Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.

  “Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

  “Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”

  “Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.

  “Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.

  That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.

  Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

  “No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.

  “Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.

  “No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.

  He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.

  “You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.

  You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.

  “I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”

  You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.

  Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.

  Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

  During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.

  You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.

  “Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.

  “She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.

  As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.

  “Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”

  All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.

  “Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.

  “We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.

  “Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.

  “Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.

  “Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”

  “I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”

  “Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.

  “I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.

  “Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

  Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.

  You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.

  “Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.

  “Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”

  “Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”

  “Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”

  “Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”

  “Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”

  “What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

  His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.

  “Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.

  “Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

  He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.

  “Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.

  “That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”

  His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

  He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”

  “Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”

  He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.

  “Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

  “I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”

  A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.

  “Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.

  “Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”

  “My place.”

  Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

  “Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.

  The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.  

  Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.

  He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.

  “Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”

  He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

  “Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.

  You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.

  “Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”

  Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.

  “Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

  His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

  “When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.

  “A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.

  “Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.  

  “How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

  It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.

  “Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

  “I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”

  “We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

  “Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“

  “You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.

  “Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”

  “I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”

  “Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!�� you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”

  “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”

  “If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”

  His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.

  “I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”

  “Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

  “Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

  He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

  “I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”

  He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”

  You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

  “Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”

  “Not even then.”

  “How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

  The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.

  “Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.

  Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.

  Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.

  Alright. Great.

  As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.

  Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.

  “It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”

  You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.

  “I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.

  “Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.

  “It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”

  Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated  guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.

  “Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”

  You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.

  “Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”

  You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.

  “It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.

  “This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“

  “Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.

  It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.

  Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.

  “How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.

  His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.

  “Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.

  As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.

  “Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”

  “Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?

  “Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.

  “Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”

  “B-But the protocol-“

  “Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”

   He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”

  “That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.

  “If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.

  “Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.

  Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.

  “I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.

  “W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

  Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.

  “Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.

  He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.

  “You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”

  “An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”

  “You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”

  Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”

  “My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

  “It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”

  “So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.

  “Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”

  “So you rebelled?”

  “No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

  “It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”

  “I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”

  “Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”

  “Because of the devil, right?”

  “Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.

   Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.

   When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.

  Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”

   You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.

  “I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”

  “But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”

  “Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”

  “I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.

  All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

  “Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”

  “No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”

  “Then why?”

  “Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”

  You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.

  “You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

      There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.

  “I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.

  “I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

  “Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”

  “I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”

  “Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Okay.”

  The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.

  Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?

  You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

  Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

  Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.  

  Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.

  “Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.

  “Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”

  “It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”

  By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.

  “I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”

  His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.

  “You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.

  “Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”

  That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

  “Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.

  “Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”

  Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

  “It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

  “Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”

  While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?

  When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.

  “Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”

  By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.

  “Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”

  “Can we go home, please?”

 The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.

  “Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.

  You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.

[shai-manahan]

28 with Alex. I just need a little bit of our caring brother🥺

All right. Giving this a shot. I mean, I feel like I managed to make this a little softer compared to the ones before, I think?

Can't resist including hints every time.

Alex - 28. grabbing the other’s hand so they don’t fall

An eerie atmosphere emanates from the air. Everything's dark. Everything's cold. The floor is full of dust and dirt, cobwebs populating the corners, and the walls, despite all the grand embellishments decorating their surface, lack a sense of life to them—stripped away of meaning.

And you stand there, right in the middle of it all, thinking of what may have been. Thinking of what your childhood house would have looked like if you had stayed.

Memories invade your head as you continue walking, as you continue wandering around the lifeless shell you once called your home. They come in like a sort of tandem—the happiest moments overlapping with the ugliest ones—the most painful ones. The fights, the unveiled secrets, the deaths. It all seems pointless when you think about them in hindsight, but you weren't alone, were you?

You didn't face any of it alone.

He was there. With you. Always with you.

"Let me see again."

The image of a young Alex kneels in front of you—no, the eight-year-old you—as you approach the balcony. The two of them are about ten paces away from your position, your grumpy young self trying to shrug away from Alex's hold, and you find yourself focusing on that sight—that specific memory that has held you together during your early years.

You push the others away. You bury them, deep below, all to make way for this one. And you watch. You're the spectator today, not the actor, and so you watch.

"What did I say about sneaking out alone?" Alex whispers as he lifts the kid's chin, checking for bruises and injuries.

"I'm old enough."

"No, you're not. Not old enough to be climbing roofs on your own. Not yet."

"And it's okay when you're with me?"

He shrugs. "That's what they call... adult supervision."

"You're fourteen!"

"Shh," Alex raises a finger against his lips. "Do you wanna get caught?"

He glances behind him, right towards your direction, and you find yourself clinging to a curtain and using it to hide yourself in the dark. You know you don't have to—it's just a feeble memory, after all—but you also know why you end up doing it anyway.

"Okay, maybe I'm not an adult yet—" he flicks your younger self's forehead with a finger— "but at least I'd never be so clumsy with my head." The way Alex did it wasn't a hard one as you remember, but you did bump that same head when you messed up with your stunt, so of course it hurt the kid. It hurt you.

The child swats his hand angrily. It wasn't just the frustration of your brother's teasing, or of a failed climb. It was everything else—the reason why you had to sneak out in the first place. This house. Your parents. The sad, dull life you've had enough of. They felt it all. You felt it all. The child was ignorant, totally unaware of the luck they've always had by their side simply for having a life like this—boring, yes, but safe; not like everyone else's. But you know better now, don't you? And so will they.

But of course you were still a snotty kid back then, an angry one who felt like everyone was going against them, so you witness the kid pushing Alex away, running away, sobbing, crying—you step back a little as they come rushing, and it all plays back just exactly the way you remember it.

The eight-year-old you, going for the stairs, eager to get away from it all—no fixed destination in mind, no concrete plan on what to do. Alex, trailing after every step—he may have been good at climbing, but he was a slow ass runner.

And there come the stairs.

The child trips. The child sees the world go slow for the first time in their life. Eyes on the ground. Eyes on their impending collision.

Until someone pulls them back.

"Are you hurt?" They're both lying on the ground now, Alex hugging the child protectively, slowly separating as he checks over his sibling. "Hey. Are you hurt? Anything feel weird? Hey."

But the child wasn't done fighting yet. They wanted to get away. Wanted to get out of this suffocating place. Wanted to be free. "Let me go!"

"Shh. Let's get you back to your room, talk about this tomorrow."

"No!"

"Look, you don't want Mom to see us here, do you?" Alex spares another glance around. "I sure as heck don't. Where would you even go this time?"

"Away."

"Away," he repeats mockingly.

"They won't care anyway." The child glares at him. "They'd never care."

Silence.

At first, you begin thinking that was the end of the memory, that the rest is gone, forgotten and left within the lowest depths of your brain, then you see a flicker of doubt in Alex's face, gone only after a second.

What did he know?

What did he keep from you?

"They care." He stares back at the child, eyes unflinching. "They care, okay? They love both of us, and they will always care. They're just... there's just a lot going on. Give them time, and everything will be better. Everything will be fine."

The child looks away. "You can't promise that."

Another round of silence.

"Maybe not. But how about this?" He gently touches the child's cheek to turn their focus back to him, his other hand clutching the kid's shivering ones. "If things don't go better, if they keep behaving like that, I'll still be here. For you. Anytime you need me, I'll be here. Right beside you. Anytime. We can be a team of our own."

He takes a deep sigh, and he adds, "Even when the whole world turns against you."

No.

You know that didn't happen. He didn't say that, not that time. Not at that moment. It was in a different situation, with a different meaning behind it. It wasn't supposed to happen here.

Nevertheless, the last fragments of the memory fade, the image of you and your brother slowly slinking away into the darkness. Like the others before.

And you're alone. Once again.

You vaguely wonder if that's the last time you'd hear those words.

The words that made you accept this as your home. Your refuge.

You press your palms against your eyes. Whose fault was it? Why you? Why this family? Why this city? You've had a lot of answers by now—most of them breaking every single hope you once held onto—but for every answer, another question emerges.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Then you hear your name. You remove your hands from your eyes, scanning for the voice you just heard. His voice. Maybe the scene you were seeing earlier wasn't over yet. Maybe it's just one of the voices you keep hearing, slowly driving you insane. Maybe it's just your broken mind finally making up things on its own.

But then it comes again.

"Is that you?" The voice cracks. "Is that really you?"

You turn around in a swift motion, and you see him, for the first time in years. The ragged, broken look on his face tells you how much he's gone through—no words needed—but it's still him. Your brother. Your stubborn, self-sacrificing brother. His hair appears more unkempt than ever, no longer the cleaned up look he always used to boast about, and he seems... much older, as if more than a few years have passed. But it's still him.

Alex.

Your brother.

Your refuge.

Your home.

The hand that had always pulled you back from danger, no matter what it cost.

The hand that had persevered to protect you from this unforgiving world.

The hand that had always stayed behind to catch you as you fall.

He's there.

He's right there.

"You're alive." The words come out of his lips as a whisper. In between his tears, over and over. In between the incoherent words he attempts on saying.

"You're alive."

Alex walks closer, one step in front of the other, and your mind struggles to comprehend the sight that unfolds before you. He's really there. It's not a sham. Not a trap. Not your imagination. So when he proceeds to hug you, you let him. When he proceeds to clutch you tighter, in fear that you'd leave him again, you let him.

When he decides to stay there for a while, not saying anything, not doing anything else, you let him.

Maybe you're not too late.

Maybe there is hope.

For you.

For the both of you.

And for everyone else.

[fangirlovestuff]

Everytime - Chris Evans x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! this is based on this request, thank you so much nonnie!! honestly i didn’t know this song before and it’s a bop. it kinda spiralled a little more than the song, but i hope you’ll like it!! also, tysm Ev @evansphnx12​ for helping me with the ending, you’re a sweetheart!! okay, no more rambles, enjoy<3

Summary: you and chris didn’t want the same things, or at least you didn’t think so. it was pointless to pretend like you did, you’d only end up getting hurt; but the second your eyes meet you want nothing except for each other, and god knows that’s a pull you can’t resist.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: mentions of sex but nothing graphic, alcohol consumption (everyone’s the proper age), a little bit of angst

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Hello?" you answer the phone curiously. The number isn't one you recognize, not saved on your phone, and you furrow your brows trying to understand who could it be, except maybe a spam call.

"Hey," answers a deep voice from the other side of the phone, "it's Chris, I don't know if you remember, you gave me your number a while ago and-"

"Oh yeah, I remember," you said, "hi!" you smiled even though you know he can't see you. "How are you?"

You both went through the normal pleasantries, but your mind wasn't really in it, running a mile a minute because god, did you remember Chris.

You two met a while back at a bar. You were out with your friends, and you noticed him from the corner of your eye, his friend group smaller than yours but large nonetheless. He was pretty far from where you were seated, but he looked so good you couldn't resist sneaking some more looks at him throughout the night.

Okay, maybe you were staring. Just a little.

And he must've noticed too, because the next time you lifted your eyes he wasn't in his previous seat, and you were about to sigh and assume he went home before you heard a voice greeting you to your right. You jumped a little in surprise before turning your head, only to look up and find his blue eyes staring back into yours, a slight smirk playing on his lips, and shit, he was so handsome it was unfair.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Even his voice was attractive. You contained your scoff of disbelief.

Long story short, one drink turned into a few more, that turned into going back to his house and having what was maybe the absolute best sex of your life, because you were both pretty drunk, but it was definitely up there.

You vaguely remember giving him your number, but you still left early the next morning, because that's what you thought he wanted, thinking the whole number thing was probably more of a courtesy than anything.

Apparently, it wasn't.

"So, I'm gonna be back in town next week," he mentioned casually, "and I was wondering if maybe… you'd wanna meet up? Grab a coffee or something?"

"Sure," you said, your brain catching up with your mouth a short moment afterward, and shit, why did you just say that? Doesn't that make you seem desperate? And besides, wasn't the whole thing supposed to be a one-night type of deal?

This was a bad idea. You knew that, but there was a small part of you that didn't care; small but definitely not insignificant.

"Great!" he chuckled on the other side of the phone. "So I'll text you sometime?"

"Yeah," you said, ending the call on an agreement to meet up Friday when he'd be in town.

So, in five days. That's enough time for your heart to stop pounding this loudly in your chest and the butterflies to stop fluttering around in your stomach, right?

Shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You kept busy the entire week, not giving yourself enough to mull over the plans you had, until it was finally Friday morning, and you woke up to a text from Chris, asking if you were still on for tonight and if you wanted him to come pick him up.

You thanked him and took him up on his offer, before plopping back first onto your bed. You put it off far enough, but now you could feel yourself inevitably freaking out.

The thing was, you really didn't know what to expect, the uncertainty that had been gnawing at the back of your mind for a week now finally taking the spotlight. You thought you'd never see him again, but that clearly wasn't the case.

Well, you'd see soon enough, you gathered, as you distracted yourself for another few hours until it was time to get ready. Chris didn't exactly tell you where you were going, but you two had mentioned a coffee, and even if it wasn't that, you imagined he wouldn't take you anywhere too fancy, so you put on something casual elegant.

I'm sorry, that last bit was kind of misleading, wasn't it? Really, you thought about what to wear for a good 30 minutes, decided on casual elegant and then took another good hour to pull out an obscene amount of clothes from your closet, proceeding to try on different outfits until you finally settled on one.

The advantage of your indecision was that it was very time consuming, leaving you very little time to get everything else you needed in order, thus less time to spiral.

When Chris texted you to come outside, all you could do was take a deep breath and go. After you greeted each other, the music filled the silence between you, not uncomfortably. Without noticing, you started humming the song beneath your breath, and before long you were both singing along, and you could feel the tension seeping out of your shoulders. Once the song ended, you took a deep breath and looked over to see Chris already looking at you. You smiled at him, and he returned it.

"Chris, I gotta, um," you swallowed, "ask you something."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Well, I'm just… is this a date? Not that I'm trying to, I don’t know… look, I just want us to be on the same page, I guess, it doesn't have to be a date, I was just, like, wondering."

Real smooth.

"It's fine," Chris chuckled a little, and you kept your eyes trained on the dash before you so you wouldn't have to meet his. "I guess… I don't really know either? We could just… see how it goes?"

"Yeah, alright," you smiled a little, "sounds great. Speaking of going, where are you taking me? Cause, you know, if you're a serial killer that's taking me out in the woods to kill me, I'd rather know now than later."

"I'm not a serial killer, and it's a surprise," he grinned.

"That's exactly what a serial killer would say," you said, playfully narrowing your eyes at him.

He let out a laugh. "Okay, okay, it's a club not far from here. It's a new one, I haven't been there myself yet, so I’d figured we'd check it out?"

"Sure," you grinned at him. The rest of the short drive went by in a flash, and when you got there, Chris darted out of the car to open your door for you.

"Thank you," you giggled.

"After you," he gestured, and you led your way into the club.

Inside, you took in the atmosphere, which was pretty relaxed since it was still early. You and Chris ate a little, engaging in conversation, and before long your drinks arrived. You were about to bring yours to your lips when Chris reached out and stopped you. You looked at him quizzically.

"We have to toast first," he shrugged with a smirk.

"Okay. So, what are we toasting for?"

"To new beginnings," he raised his glass in suggestion.

"To new beginnings," you repeated softly, clinking your glass with his before taking a sip from your drink.

When things picked up a little, you both got to the dance floor. In no time you found your rhythm, dancing together as if it wasn't the first time. The songs were jumpy, upbeat, and you found yourself beaming when Chris spun you around before pulling you back in.

You danced like that for a while, before you both got thirsty, heading to the bar for another drink.

"You wanna get outta here soon?" he asked, raising his voice to make sure you heard him over the loud music.

"Let's go," you said, grabbing his hand and practically dragging him to the exit. You heard his laugh behind you, and you smiled.

"Sorry," you said once you were outside, "the music was getting a little too loud for me," you shrugged.

"Yeah, it kinda was," he agreed with a soft smile. "So, where to next?"

You checked the time on your phone. "I mean, we could go back to my place if you want a coffee, since I doubt anywhere else is open right now."

"Great!" he smiled, and then his eyebrows furrowed a little, "But I guess neither of us should drive, right? I mean, I probably could, I just…"

"Yeah, you're right," you nodded.

"My place is closer to here, actually," he said, "If you want, we could walk there?"

"Alright," you smiled.

You two started walking side by side, silently at first. "What about your car?" you asked.

"I'll come by and get it tomorrow," he shrugged. "I need to get gas anyway. I'm driving upstate again in a couple of days."

"Can't you fly?"

"Not since the last time I checked, when I was four and nearly broke my arm jumping from a tree," he smiled teasingly.

"Ha ha," you rolled your eyes, a smile spreading on your face despite your efforts to stop it. "I mean, wouldn't it be easier if you took a plane instead of driving?"

"Maybe, but I don't like flying that much. It's exhausting."

You simply hummed in reply.

Before long, you were at Chris' house. Again, your mind unhelpfully supplied, vividly reminding you of the last time you were here, which was-

"So, do you want that coffee?" Chris asked when he showed you in, thankfully breaking your train of thought before you could get too zoned out.

"Um yeah, that sounds wonderful," you smiled at him. As you waited on his couch while he went to get the coffee, your eyes wandered around the large room. You didn't really get much of a look at his house before since you were… occupied with other things, but it was really nice, modestly decorated.

As you were looking around, you heard a soft patter of footsteps come up behind you, and you turned around to see Chris concentrating on the two mugs in his hand, trying not to spill anything, his tongue darting out in concentration a little. It made you giggle a little, making him look up at the sudden sound.

"What?" he asked, putting the mugs down carefully.

"Nothing," you smiled.

He eyed you suspiciously before apparently deciding to drop it, since all he did was sit down and pat the space next to him for you to sit in.

You two decided to watch a movie, but honestly, to each of you the other one was way more interesting than the movie.

Your second night with Chris ended up pretty much the same as the first one, with amazing sex and a good night's sleep. And then, slipping away the next morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I just, ugh," you plopped back down on your bed, talking to your friend on the phone, "I don't know."

"Listen, it's only been a few days, and he told you he was going away, I'm sure he'll talk to you soon. Or not," your friend said from the other side of the phone.

"That's comforting," you snorted, flipping onto your stomach.

"Hey, you said it yourself, right? You don't know what you two are. If it was just a hookup, he probably won't call." You opened your mouth to reply, but as if she could sense it, your friend continued before you could. "I'm not being mean, I'm being honest. You don't deserve to get your heart broken."

"I know," you sighed. "Thank you," you said sincerely, "talk to you later."

In the months that followed you saw Chris a few more times, each of them ending in pretty much the same way. Some were at your house, and he was gone in the morning, which in a way confirmed you were… what, friends with benefits? In a casual relationship?

You knew you shouldn't obsess about putting a label to it, because it doesn't really matter, except it did matter to you and you'd really like to know.

But you never brought it up. You liked what you had. It was fun. Really fun.

And every time you would be with him, most of your logical thinking skills would fly out of the window, so there's that. You liked to rationalize you didn't bring it up because you were consciously deciding not to jeopardize what you have, but really, it just doesn't cross your mind when you're with him.

It's weird, because when you're with him, you're incredibly calm, happy really, but when you're not, he makes you so nervous you feel like running to get the fidgety energy out. And running sucks.

Now, you were sitting at your friend's kitchen table as she made herself a coffee.

"Hey," your friend said, her voice laced with strictness and affection, "are you listening to me?"

"Yeah," you nodded, shaking yourself from your reverie.

"Really? Or are you thinking about Chris again?"

"What? No, I was just thinking about-" you started denying it, before your friend simply arched her brow at you, making you sigh. "-Chris. God, am I really that obvious?"

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly before sipping her coffee.

"Sorry," you offered half-heartedly, "I know I'm being annoying, I just… I like him. And I don't know what we are and it's driving me up the wall."

"Hold on, did you just say you liked him?" she looked at you incredulously.

"Yes," you said, although it came out more as a question than a statement.

"Oh honey," she said, sitting down in the chair next to you.

"I know, I know," you sighed looking at the table instead of her, "I shouldn't. But I do," you looked up at her. "That's why I'm… scared," the admission fell past your lips, the last word merely a whisper.

Your friend wrapped her arm around you in comfort, knowing you still needed to talk about it.

"If I just knew what he wanted, this would all be easier, because then I could keep the same mindset. But I don't wanna be annoying and end up embarrassing myself."

"You know what I think about this. You don't deserve to get hurt," she replied, squeezing your shoulders.

"I know, I just really don't know what to do," you sighed.

"If I were you," she started, "I'd tell him I'm seeing someone else."

"What?" you frowned.

"Just my take on it. What's the worst thing that could happen? It's not like you can't break up if you're not together," she shrugged.

"Okay, I get it," you scoffed. "No need to rub it in."

Despite your cynicism, you couldn't help thinking maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. Also, it was kind of the only idea you had, so either that or leave things as they were. Not that you were really complaining, I mean, things were wonderful as they are, but the uncertainty was becoming unbearable.

Maybe confronting him about it will be good, whispers a voice of hope in your head.

Yeah, you thought, or maybe it'll bite me in the ass. And not in a fun way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Chris was in town, he called you on a Friday morning.

"Hey!" he said, and even across the phone you could hear he was excited. It made your heart swell with fondness, a feeling you quickly shook off because, well, you weren't exactly boyfriend and girlfriend, so the only feeling you should have is like, attraction. Right?

"Hey," you said, your voice soft.

"So, I'm in town this weekend, and I was thinking, do you wanna do something?"

"I guess," you said, a smile sneaking onto your face, "What'd you have in mind?"

"You'll see," he said, and you could practically hear his smirk, "Just bring an overnight bag."

An overnight b-

"Yeah, sure," you said, your mouth speaking before your brain caught up, and shit, that seems to happen entirely too often when you were talking to him.

"Great! So I'll see you tonight?"

"See you," you agreed, ending the call, not before he told you he'd pick you up at seven.

Well, now all you had to do was pack an overnight bag for somewhere without knowing where, which was just… splendid.

Stifling your groan of frustration, you got up to do just that.

Just like always, when Chris came to pick you up and you got into his car, a smile came onto your face, your previous frustration now replaced with near-giddiness. Focus, you told yourself, you should be telling him you're seeing someone else.

But you didn't, not yet obviously, since you just got into his car. That'd be an extremely weird way to start a conversation.

"Hi," you greeted instead, smiling at him.

"Hey," he grinned, barely waiting for you to get your seatbelt on before he started driving.

"So, where are we going that's got you so excited, you're willing to risk getting into a car accident?" you chuckled.

"It's a surprise, and I'm not risking anything," he rolled his eyes.

"Sure you aren't, mad max," you quipped, making him laugh. "And last time I checked, there's nowhere called 'a surprise'."

He chuckled. "C'mon, you'll see for yourself, we're almost there."

And indeed, a few minutes later he was slowing down and turning to a road that led into a forest.

"Okay, seriously Chris, where are we going?"

"Relax, we're not lost. I know exactly where we are."

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'huh, maybe you are a serial killer after all', but yeah, that's reassuring," you raised your brows at him.

"If I were a serial killer I would've killed you already," he rolled his eyes at your antics.

"That's exactly-"

"What a serial killer would say," he completed your sentence, huffing out a laugh, "I figured."

You giggled at that, relaxing into your seat. You weren't actually worried, but it was nice to know you haven’t been fucking a serial killer for the last few months.

Sooner rather than later Chris parked the car, meaning you arrived, but you didn't really see where exactly you are until you got out. Then, you saw a small clearing in the woods, with what seemed like the remains of a fire in the middle of it.

"Okay, so we ruled out the serial killer option," you called out to Chris, who was busy opening the trunk of the car, "The way I see it you're either gonna sacrifice me in a weird satanic ritual or this is a camping site."

"Well, I considered the first one but it just seemed like a lot of effort," he teased, "Yeah, this is a camping site."

"Awesome," you chuckled, getting your bag. "Do you need help with anything or…"

"Oh, no, just wait a second and I'll get it all out," he said, already lifting his bag out and what seemed like the bag of a tent.

You did as he said and waited by the remains of the campfire. And you know, maybe also ogling him a bit as he carried the bags over.

"So," he started when he put the bags down, "I think we should put up the camp first, before the sun completely sets and then we won't be able to see what we're doing."

"Sounds like a good idea," you smiled.

You two started putting up the tent, a task that was harder than you realized, the flexible poles getting disconnected while you were moving them through the fabric and poking you in the stomach one unfortunate time.

By the time the sun was setting, you were getting pretty sulky, and it didn't escape Chris' attention. "C'mon, now's the most satisfying part," he smiled.

Starting to put up the poles, the tent turned from a pile of fabric and plastic to a tall tent in a matter of minutes.

"Okay, this is the most satisfying part," you laughed a little when you saw the results of your handiwork.

While Chris was setting up the fire, you were rummaging through the food he brought, because you were getting snacky. Just when you found the marshmallows, Chris asked, "So when's the last time you built a tent? Besides right now, I mean."

"Ummm… I don't know. Probably when I was really little," you shrugged.

"I come out here pretty often when I can," he said, "It's nice". You turned to look at him, but he was still messing around with the wood.

"What've you been up to lately then?" he smiled when he was finally done lighting the fire, turning his gaze up to look at you.

Well, it's now or never.

"There's this guy that offered me to hang out sometime," you said as casually as you could, "Mike."

Mike? Really? That's the name you came up with?

You thought you saw Chris' jaw clench, but maybe it was just the lack of light playing tricks on you. When he said nothing you continued. "He's nice."

It was like his whole demeanor had changed in the span of seconds, from smiling and relaxed his muscles tensed, and his jaw was definitely clenched.

"Okay," was the only thing he said after a few moments.

The only thing disturbing the silence were the sounds of nature and the crackling fire. You had a beer with him, and still, silence.

"Is everything okay?" you asked. He just hummed in response, his mind clearly somewhere else.

"Earth to Chris?" you snapped your fingers in front of his face.

"I'm here," he chuckled. "So anyways, did you?"

"What?"

"Did you hang out with Mike?"

"Oh, that," you said, "would it have mattered if I did?" you took a swig of your beer.

"Yes," he said lowly.

"Yes?" you turned to look at him so quickly your neck nearly snapped. He was still looking ahead into the fire.

"I mean," he turned his eyes to you, "What about us?"

"Oh, suddenly now we're an 'us'?" you rolled your eyes, "that's wonderful, Chris. Really, it is. You’re barely here, and when you are, we fuck and you leave, and now this? Maybe I should hang out with Mike," you mumbled the last part.

"If that's how you feel," he said.

You were both quiet for the rest of the night, going to sleep in separate sleeping bags. It was cold, and all you wanted to do was crawl into Chris' bag with him to steal some warmth, but your pride wouldn't let you.

In the morning, you woke up to find the tent empty. You rubbed your eyes and went outside, squinting against the morning sun.

"Good morning," Chris greeted quietly. He was sitting next to where the fire was last night, now obviously reduced to lumps of coal, and if that didn't perfectly represent your mood, you didn't know what did.

"Morning," you replied curtly.

"You know, about yesterday, I-"

"No, I don't know," you burst out. "Or at least I didn’t know, and it drove me crazy, thinking about what the hell I was to you, what we… are we even a 'we'?" you shrugged helplessly. "But I guess now I know, so thanks for that one."

"I'm sorry," he said, coming closer to you.

"Yeah, whate-"

"I'm sorry you felt that way. I shouldn’t have left things so up in the air. I should've told you how much I liked you from the start, instead of doing… whatever it is we've been doing. I'm sorry you felt like I didn't want you, because I do," his eyes pierced into yours. "I'm sorry I didn't say that sooner."

"I- you like me?" you asked, eyes going wide.

"I do," he smiled timidly, scratching the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry I was being a bitch earlier," you mumbled.

"It's okay, it’s re-"

"Do you accept my apology?" you cut him off with a smile.

"Yeah, of course."

"Great."

You walked the last few steps between you, closing the distance and planting your lips on his.

Every other time you kissed Chris, there was a rush to it, an aroused urgency, the knowledge of what it would lead to. But now there was the sweet promise of something more. You didn't know exactly what that was, but it made your heart hum in joy and your belly do somersaults.

Later, you found out the promise was happiness.

You felt it when you finally went on your first official "date date" with Chris. You felt it when he kissed you goodnight and good morning and everything in between. You even felt it when he found out Mike wasn't real and he laughed, and honestly you laughed too, because it was pretty funny.

Really, you felt it every time you were with Chris. Which was convenient, since, as he told you on several occasions, he wasn't planning on letting you go any time soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tell me your thoguhts?<3

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

(Un)Fortunate Misunderstanding

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (spanking, blow job)

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your intentions are misunderstood as you struggle to comprehend those of another.

This is for @candy-and-writing​‘s 1000 Follower Challenge, I got “Get the fuck out.” + Andy Barber

Note: Okey dokey, more Andy. I’m sorry, I can’t stop but I promise I’ll be mixing it up soon. I have 4 days of camping starting Monday to do nothing but think!

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Laurie answered the door. You weren’t even sure she heard you knock as she seemed in a rush to get out the door. She smiled and stopped before she could crash into you.

“So sorry about that.” She said sweetly. “I was just running out to get Jacob.”

“He’s not home yet?” You asked.

“Shoot, I thought I messaged you. He’s staying late tonight for tryouts. I told him I’d pick him up.”

“Oh, well how long will that be?” You fiddled with the strap of your bag. 

You’d taken the bus all the way there and it wasn’t worth it to go all the way back to campus. While your tutoring gig gave you a little extra cash, it didn’t exactly leave you flush. You smiled awkwardly at Laurie.

“I’m sorry, I’ll just--”

“No, no, it’s my fault. I should have called.” She touched your arm gently. “Come in. You can hang out here. We won’t be more than an hour. He got out early from his last period so he could try out.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, Laurie.”

“Don’t worry about it,” She held the door open and beckoned you in. “You know where everything is. Water in the fridge and some snacks if you like.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do some studying while I wait.” You said.

“Alright,” She stood in the door as she watched you slip out of your shoes. “I’ll try not to be too long. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright, Mrs. Barber. Really.” You assured her.

She nodded and carried on out the door. You listened for her car and went to sit at the dining table where you usually did your lessons with Jacob. You sat and pulled out your textbook and turned to the little post-it you’d placed to mark your page.

It didn’t take long to finish the assigned chapter you already started on the bus. You took out your phone and checked your school email and then the few pointless social media notifications that clustered along the upper margin. You set your phone face down and stood. All morning in classes sitting at a desk, then the bus ride over; you were stiff and restless.

You wandered into the living room and paced around. You stopped at the wall of pictures along the far wall; family vacations, birthday parties, Christmases. The Barbers were the idyllic suburban clan. You looked down at the long console table, fresh white tulips stood over the rippled brim of the vase. Beside it, a small mother of pearl tray with an assortment of rings and a single necklace with a large opal stone.

You lifted the chain and admired the clouded streaks of colour. It was pretty. You turned and went to the slatted mirrors hung along the next wall. You held up the chain as if you were wearing it and admired it against the collar of your wool sweater. 

“You know, I got that for Laurie for her birthday and she hasn’t worn it once.” Andy’s voice made you wince. 

You looked over at him and lowered the necklace. You went back to the table and dropped it back with the rings. You turned back to him and wilted under his steady gaze. It was the first time you’d seen him look so stern. He was usually smiling and telling dad jokes.

“It’s very pretty.” You said as you made to head back to the kitchen. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Came through the back. Laurie left the gate open again.” He moved into you path. “It is a nice necklace. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting it.”

“Well, I was just looking,” You said as you stopped. “I shouldn’t have touched though.”

“No? You sure you didn’t wanna put it on? Maybe tuck in under your shirt?” He ventured. “No one would know the difference. Well, not until it was too late.”

“Mr. Barber, I wouldn’t--”

“I was a college student once. It’s tight. Hard to scrape by.” His lips curved slightly. A dark grin. “Never stole though.”

“Really, I would never do that.” You tried to side step him and he moved with you.

“She wouldn’t notice, I’d just expect you to ask before taking.”

“You know, Mr. Barber, I don’t appreciate the accusation. I was just looking.” You insisted. 

“Sure.” His jaw twitched as his grin fell. “You know, I don’t like to be the bad guy but I don’t stand for liars.”

“I am not lying.” You huffed and brushed past him. “You can tell Laurie I left. Or maybe share your theory and tell her you fired me. I won’t be accused of being a thief.”

You went to the table and shoved your textbook into your bag and snatched your phone up. Andy was right there when you turned back. He grabbed your phone and pulled on your bag until it slipped down to your elbow.

“Fire you? Three strikes. I’ll allow you this one but… there has to be punishment.”

You pulled on your bag but he was stronger than you. Very strong.

“Give me my phone, I’m going.” You hissed.

“Come on, we both know you need this job.” He taunted. “You walk out and there’s no coming back, you know that.”

“I wasn’t stealing.” You reached for your phone and he raised it over his head. “Mr. Barber, give me my phone.”

He flung it away and tore your bag from your grasp. His hand went to your arm and he spun you around. You hit the table as he shoved you forward.

“All you have to do is admit it.” He snarled.

“Let me go,” You tried to shake him off as he clung to you. “I didn’t do anything. Mr. Barber, stop! What are you doing?”

“Put your hands on the table.” He ordered.

“I don’t understand. Mr. Barber, this isn’t you-- I didn’t--”

“I see the way you come in here, looking around, like you’re casing the place.” He tutted. “Now you put those hands on the table or I’ll call the police.”

“I didn’t do anything--”

“I won’t say it again. If you won’t confess then you’ll just have to learn the hard way.” He pushed on your shoulder and you slapped your hands onto the table to keep from bending entirely. “So, hands flat.”

He withdrew his hand and you heard a buckle. You turned to look at him as he undid his belt.

“Keep your hands on the table.” He barked. 

You pressed your hands flat and turned to stare at the far wall. You listened to the glide of leather from his belt loops and you bit down. You shivered as he moved behind you. He grabbed the back of your jeans and tore them down roughly just below your ass. You reached to pull them back up and he slapped your hand with his belt.

“Move those hands again and I’ll break a finger.” He growled. “Now,” He folded the belt and rested it against your ass, “Count.”

He raised the belt and brought it down. You cried out and your nails dug into the table cloth.

“That’s one,” He said. “Say it.”

“One,” You said through clenched teeth. He lashed you again and you nearly shouted “two.”

“You gotta keep it down,” He warned. “We don’t want everyone knowing you’re a thief.”

“Mr. Barb--”

He whipped you a third time and you gulped before you forced out ‘three’. Then four, five, six. All the way to ten until your legs were ready to collapse. Your ass was so raw you were certain it was bleeding.

He stopped. At last. He hooked his fingers in the loops of your jeans and pulled them back up. You turned to him with a pained hiss as he slid his belt back into place. He buckled it as he tilted his head at your confused distress.

“So, you still innocent?” He asked.

“I didn’t--” You rasped.

“I’m a lawyer. I know a liar when I see one.” He said.

A car door sounded and then another. Voices rose, familiar and footsteps neared the front door. Andy bent to grab your bag and dropped it on one of the chairs around the table. You found your phone face down and your heart sank at the cracked screen. You couldn’t afford a new one.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” He offered as the front door opened. “We can talk then.”

He went through to the living room and you edged forward to watch him through the doorway. He kissed Laurie and patted Jacob on the shoulder. He was back to the Andy Barber you knew. The smiling, laughing father and husband. The family man with a heart of gold.

You whimpered as you sat at the table and lit up your phone. It worked but the screen was a mess. It would have to do for now. You weren’t sure how long you’d have this job.

💎

Your lesson that night seemed to go on forever. Jacob was disinterested in Arthur Miller’s commentary on McCarthyism and Andy made sure to pop in a few times to ‘check on you’. Laurie had excused herself to her office, as she usually did, but her husband seemed almost paranoid about your presence.

You packed up after and said goodbye to Jacob. He was just happy to be done and quickly pulled out his phone as he left you. You followed him out to the living room and were relieved to find it empty. You slid into your shoes and dipped through the door. You’d catch the bus and send an email to Laurie in the morning. You would find a new job.

“Hey,” The door opened again as Andy called after you, keys jingling as he descended the porch steps. “I said I’d drive you home.”

“I have a bus pass.” You kept on.

“It’s dark.” He caught up to you and latched onto your bag, pulling you back. “And we’re not done talking.”

“I told you I didn’t do it,” You ripped your bag away from him. “And then you assaulted me.”

“I punished you. I will again if you keep lying.” He sneered.

“How many times do I have to say it? You walked in on my playing with a necklace. That’s hardly stealing.” You argued.

“A few more minutes, I’m sure…” He grabbed your elbow and turned you round the back of the car. “Get in.” You dug your heels in and he jerked you forward. “Keep fighting. It’s fun.”

He opened the car door and you were barely able to duck your head as he shoved you inside. He slammed the door and nearly caught your fingers. He got in on the other side and shoved the keys in the ignition. The engine whirred to life and he pulled out abruptly.

“So…” He said.

“So…” You echoed. “I already--”

“Deny, deny, deny. You’re digging the hole deeper and deeper.” He growled. “Confess, apologise, and we’re done. You keep your job and maybe I’ll have some peace of mind that you have a degree of honesty.”

You were quiet. You weren’t quite sure why he was so adamant. Why he was so convinced that you were going to steal that necklace. You’d given him no reason to distrust you. He’d always been friendly, kind, and hospitable. It just didn’t make sense.

“I’m waiting.” He said.

“You can let me out here.” You leaned into the door.

“All you have to do is tell the truth.” He coaxed. “Look, I get it. You’re young, you want nice things.”

You shook your head and sniffed. You stared out the window angrily. “Yeah, so? I wouldn’t just take them.”

“I see the way you look at Laurie. You admire her; envy her. You want what she has.” He continued. “The clothes, the jewelry, the house…” He paused and planted his elbow on the console. “Me.”

“Wh-what?” You sputtered. “Are you serious? Mr. Barber, that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? I’m older but I’m not haggard,” He said. “Neither of us can deny, I’m a pretty decent catch.”

“Please stop so I can get out.” You pleaded.

“It’s cute. A little crush.” His hand slid off the console and crept along your leg. “I got a bit of one myself.”

“Mr. Barber.” His hand stretched over your thigh and he squeezed. “Andy!”

He stopped and you jolted forward against the seatbelt. You peeked out the window. It was your building. You grabbed your bag and undid your belt as you pushed his hand away. You opened the door then froze.

“How do you know where I live?” You looked back at him. “I didn’t tell you.”

“It saved in the GPS when Laurie drove you,” He said smoothly.

“She drove her car.” You climbed out entirely. “I quit.”

You slammed the door and raced away from the car. Your ass was still sore and you winced as your panties rubbed against the tender skin. You swept inside the lobby of the building and let yourself in the heavy metal door. You climbed the stairs to your floor as tears pricked at your eyes. 

You closed yourself into your room and dropped your bag. You held your head in your hands and tried not to scream. How could a perfectly normal day go so wrong?

You took out your phone and felt the screen. Ugh, you should have put a protector on it. Always pressing your luck. You set it on your small desk and sat on your narrow single bed. You’d wake up tomorrow and start again. The only thing that would be different was the Barbers. They’d be easy enough to forget about. You had classes and you were sure there was some other job you could find in between.

Well, the welts on your ass might remind you of the day’s shit show.

Three loud knocks shook your door. You flinched and stood. You crossed the room and opened the door, just a crack. It was Andy and he looked as agitated as before.

“How did you get up here?” You leaned on the door as his hand rested on the other side.

“Let me in.” He demanded. “We aren’t done.”

“No,” You pushed the door closed but it didn’t click. He flung it open and you stumbled back. “Get the fuck out.”

“When I’m done here.” He said calmly as he shut the door. He turned the lock decisively. “Promise.”

“I’ll scream.” You threatened. “I’ll call campus security.”

“You won’t.” He stormed forward and grabbed you. “What you’re going to do is get down on your knees and make up for your sticky fingers with that pretty little mouth.”

“Mr. Barber,” Your voice rose. “Get--”

He clapped his hand over your mouth before you could shout. He walked you backwards until you were against the wall. He pinned you there and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You see what happens, little girl. I’ll tell Laurie about what you did then I’ll tell her you tricked me into coming up here and then turned on me when I refused you. The cops will eat it up, too. I got a few friends on the force. Friends of the family, even.”

You blinked at him and your eyes swam with tears. The sheer anger in his face was terrifying. The unyielding strength in hands was more so.

“So, are you going to be good?” He snarled. “Show me I can trust you?”

You stared at him then nodded. He slowly dropped his hand and smirked as he backed away. Again, his hands went to his belt. You closed your eyes and braced yourself. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.

He unzipped his pants. You heard it. You couldn’t look at him as you dropped to your knees. The thin carpet did little to pad your descent. 

He stood over you and stepped closer. Your vision cleared and you were staring at his cock. His hand wrapped around it as he stroked himself. He reached out to pet your cheek.

“No time to waste,” He hummed. “I gotta be home before Laurie gets worried.”

“Please, don’t say her name.” You begged.

“I won’t say much once you get started.”

You lowered your lashes. You reticently licked your licks and got closer. You grasped him as his hand fell away. You exhaled with a shudder and closed your eyes completely.

You licked his tip and he groaned. The sound made you shiver. His other hand slipped behind your head as he urged you on. You opened wider as he met your throat and you gagged. He eased off but pushed back in until he slid down your throat. You felt even more like retching.

“Oh, ho,” He uttered. “Wow, I never thought-- you’re such a sweet little thing, I didn’t expect--”

He puffed as he rocked into your mouth. The sloppy noises filled your ears and floated through the room. You gripped the top of his pants, the leather of his belt against your palm as he sped up.

You let out breathless groans around him and he clutched your head tighter with a hand on either side. You struggled to get air as he guided you up and down his length.

“Oh god, here it comes.” He growled. “Here it--”

He pulled out of your mouth and held your head with one hand as he stroked himself. Your eyes fluttered as he came across your face, streaks of semen from forehead to chin. 

He pressed his thumb along your lips and pushed a string of his salty cum into your mouth. He sighed as he gazed down at you.

“You see what happens when you touch what isn’t yours?” He purred. “I’ll see you on Wednesday. Jacob’s unit test is the next day.” He pulled his hand away as his cum cooled on your skin. “Don’t be late.”

[kuroos-moon]

「vi. Deal pt. 2」

warning/s: angst (just a lil bit)

a/note: for this smau, like my previous one, there will be numerous chapters wherein they aren’t text chains or necessarily smaus just like this chapter and the prologue. If that’s not to ur liking, or for any reason at all, pls feel free to tell me u wanna be removed from the taglist 🖤

He skeptically looks out through his window, and just like you had texted him a minute ago, there were no more reporters outside. Finally, he thought, not really expecting you to be telling the truth. Honestly, why do you mess with him so much? 

Also, he’s been wondering ever since your reunion if you deliberately went to the gym for him or if that was pure coincidence and you’re spontaneously messing up his life right now. The moment he opens his door, he’s adamant on avoiding you because he just knew the person you were now is adamant on driving him insane by doing things like popping out of nowhere to pester him. 

Speaking of which, what the hell are you doing in front of his doorstep? “Sakusa Kiyoomi!” You brightly smile, eyes lighting up at the very sight of him. “Nope.” He pulls the door close but you put a hand to stop him. He tugs on it, making you chuckle, but you stubbornly refuse to let him shut you out. 

“Get out.” He snaps. “I’m not even inside, Sakusa Kiyoomi.” 

Seriously? Saying his full name like that only ticks him off. “Don’t call me that.” He tugs harsher on his doorknob but you successfully grip the door with both hands now. 

“Shall I call you love then?” You tease despite finding it extremely hard to keep the door open. It may now have dawned on to him that this was pointless as he lets go, though he’ll never admit that he’s actually afraid of accidentally shutting the door on your fingers—he knows he easily could. 

“What do you want?” He sighs. “We need to talk.” 

“About what?” How you left me? How you had the audacity to walk back in my life like you didn’t trample all over me before? 

“Our relationship,” you grin. He chokes. “Our what now?” Laughter erupts from your throat, and it was bittersweet. You’re so carefree and mesmerizing—your eyes angelic and genuinely alight. But more than that, you’re ruthless and despicable, he knows that all too well. 

“Won’t you invite me in? It’s cold y’know,” you place your hands inside your pockets. “Then freeze,” he narrows his eyes. He absolutely hates you, here he was slightly worrying he’ll go soft and easy on you because one could never control the heart yet you so easily reminded him of why you were the bane to his existence.  

“Yup, figured walking in your home wasn’t gonna happen,” you mutter to yourself with a small smile. He hates it. Don’t act like you know him, because at some point you did, but you don’t deserve to have him etched in your memory. 

“Tell me what you want so we could get this over with.” 

“Right. Yes sir. Yes love,” you chuckle, not even minding that he remains unamused. “My manager has already arranged a live interview this afternoon.” 

“You should’ve started with that. So, you’re here to ask me what you should say?” He asks, unintentionally looking down on your hands you’ve rubbed together for friction. It was indeed cold, you brought this upon yourself though. 

“No, I’m here to make a deal with you. My statement for my interview later on depends on your response.” 

He rolls his eyes, leaning his shoulder on the doorframe because talking to you definitely tired him out; sucked his soul out of him. “And by this lovely deal, what exactly are you proposing? Not that you have a leverage over me now or anything.” 

You smile, stepping closer to him but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Instead, his feet remained planted to the ground, self-aware of how much his heart was racing right now and the only thing—albeit pathetic—he could do was glare at you. 

“Befriend me for a month, that’s it.” That didn’t sound half as bad compared to how devilish you’ve been these past few days. “Go on,” he mutters, stepping back and away from you. “You can’t block my number and you have to reply to my texts.” 

“Aren’t you ashamed of how pathetic and selfish you are right now?” He lowly says. You look up at him in surprise, there was faint hurt and vulnerability in his voice that wasn’t there before and you can’t help but feel guilty for it. 

“I like you, I don’t know why, I just do.” Pain visits him like an old friend. Casual, embracing, and mind-numbingly heartbreaking. You look up at his eyes and could tell right away the discomfort in them, but it wasn’t just discomfort, there was agony too—perhaps. You could never be too sure, you think, looking down on both your shoes. 

“I don’t know why you’re so hellbent on avoiding me, it felt like you hated me the first day we met, and I didn’t like the way you hated me for no apparent reason, much so because I happen to like you.” You’re rarely ever serious or this openly truthful with anyone other than your friends, it was only normal that it embarrassed you. But this didn’t feel exactly foreign either. It felt like he understood you somehow—your words and the thoughts you haven’t exactly expressed. 

“I hated you the first time we met?” He repeats and you look at him, surprised at the surreal softness in his voice. “When… was the first time we met, y/n?” 

That’s the first time he’s said your name. It made your cheeks flush warm and your eyes widen a fraction. This moment was temporary and fleeting, it was easy to see, because he certainly doesn’t call your name like that so naturally and so right—he certainly doesn’t look at you with the absence of resentment as he normally would. 

“Three days ago, outside your gym,” you respond unsurely. As if you’ve reminded him of something utterly annoying, he had closed off himself once more, his eyes unreadable and brooding as they stared back at you. 

“And this is why I hate you,” he chuckles humorlessly. You’re still pretending you didn’t know him, as if those years together were something you could so easily erase. “I don’t care what you say in that damned interview. Saying yes to that excessively self-centered deal of yours would lose me my self-respect, you know that.” 

He finally steps out the door, closing it behind him as he walks past you and all the way to his car. He hopes this would be the last time he sees you; he desperately hopes so. The last thing he needs is a repeat of the emotional wreck he’s been when he was at the lowest point of his life after you so selfishly left him behind.  

“Sakusa Kiyoomi!” You call off, and he stops in his tracks, clenching his teeth. You��re clearly overestimating his patience. “I don’t know how befriending me would lose you your self-respect. Hell, I am so irritated at you right now, hard-to-understand-breathtaking-stupid volleyball player!” You grit your teeth, he scoffs, finding your impudence unbelievably out of this world. 

He wanted to bring up your past, to shove it right in your face that you had no right to be angry with his hostility considering everything you’ve done. But he can’t, it’s foolish to bring up history you insist you’ve forgotten. “You better watch my interview later on.” 

“Oh?” He mockingly says, turning to look at you, “just what are you going to say?” He admits it is out of character for him to banter off with you like this, if you were someone else, he’s long gone inside his car. Maybe this was his way of saying goodbye to you for good, allowing himself to talk to you like this before moving forward with his life that’s anti-you. 

“I’m telling them we’re the bestest of friends but we might marry!” You stick your tongue out at him before running off, you don’t even notice him freeze up. His heart fell to his stomach, he unconsciously held in a breath. No, he didn’t just hold in a breath, it’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe. 

There it is again, his old, life-long friend. Crippling pain, anxiety, and resentment bundling up and turning into one heavy-ass anchor, pulling him deeper down than he’s been before. The stability he’s built and worked on by religiously avoiding you for years all went down the drain with those silly words of yours. 

Just what kind of ridicule or twisted teasing are you pulling off? 

“Wow, I’m surprised you guys put up with Oomi.” He hears your voice, lips tugging upward a little before he realizes what you had just said. Finally entering the gym, he sees you sitting in a circle along with his teammates. 

He narrows his eyes at the back of your head. You should be in your winter uniform by now, he bets you forgot. One thing he hated about being a year older than you is that he goes to a different school now that he’s in highschool while you’re still on your last year of middle school, you just can’t seem to take care of yourself enough. 

“Yup, Oomi’s really great, he’s the best, I guess that’s why you accept how cold he is sometimes huh,” you snicker, your enjoyment short-lived when you’re engulfed in a jacket and Sakusa’s scent. “Stop giving me backhanded compliments just because you think I’m not around,” he bitterly tells you though there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Oomi!” You rise up to your feet immediately and flung yourself at him. He catches you with no hesitation of course, guessing that you’re here again because you missed him. The rest of his teammates except Komori are surprised. 

“Sakusa-kun, didn’t know you had a middle school girlfriend.” 

“Ew, she’s not my girlfriend.” He bites back a smile though when you punch his shoulder. “What’s with the ew? Not that I like Oomi that much—he’s an ass,” you send him a pointed look, “but we’re the bestest of friends,” you grin. 

“And we might marry someday, right Oomi?” 

His face falls. “Can you not make me cringe like for a week or two, thanks.” 

You scowl, “oh, so what, you don’t wanna marry me?” At this point, he blushes, you’re always so blunt and shameless, you could at least tweak it down a bit. He only scoffs, walking past you to pick up a ball from the ground, “didn’t say anything like that.” 

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[stusbunker]

BGDC: Stay Down

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini-series

Featuring: Female Hunter!Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Chuck and Jack

Written for: @supernatural-jackles​​ Tell Me A Story Bingo

Summary: Everything comes to a head. Can she do better this time? Is there anything worth salvaging? Chuck has his own thoughts.

Square filled: In Vino Veritas

Word Count: 2615

Warnings: THIS HURTS, Flashbacks in italics, canon-ish, verbal arguments, that pesky motherfucker HOPE, Chuck is still a dick.

Series Masterlist

Inherit the Earth con’t

    It had taken Sam two weeks to get out of Dean what happened, why she left. It was not his proudest moment, but the thought of her in their home made him sick. So, he had shown her the door. He thought he was her hero, he’d never imagined she’d treat him like a piece of meat.

    There were some lines that you shouldn’t cross and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to forgive her that.

The drive to Sam and Jack feels like an eternity, even ignoring all traffic laws. The day is bright, but the impala rumbles garishly, a black omen. The static hiss of unmanned radio stations gives her something to do. She diligently sorts the tapes, finds something to fill the void. 

Melody as white noise. A band aid on a bullet wound. Dean can’t fix what’s been broken. But she never even tried.

Sam cries at the sight of her. She runs into his arms and he squeezes until he can’t any longer. An ounce of redemption in the ocean of guilt. Sam glances over her head to his brother, he feels the other shoe drop.

“Where’s Cas?” Jack’s obvious question echoes the shame in the new arrivals’ eyes. She holds her breath as Dean explains, like she’s waiting for his story before she can move on. Like he didn’t tell her either.

Sam aches with what he’s allowed to happen. The old internal rage gnashing at his gut as he screams in an abandoned restaurant. They’re what was left behind. All they have left to do is give Chuck what he wants.

His ending, at last.

Dean didn’t tell her what he and Sam were doing. Didn’t need an outside opinion on this one. Instead he asked her to keep an eye on Jack, knowing she’d say yes. He guessed he wasn’t done asking for things. The sight of Chuck makes him see red. But this was it, he’d die with his brother beside him. For the world.

When Chuck blows off their offer, he can’t say that he’s surprised. Disgusted, angry, regretful maybe, but Dean’s not surprised. 

The house always wins.

They crash at a motel for the night, everyone gets their own rooms for a change. She knocks on his door just after midnight with a bottled peace offering and her ratty sleep clothes. Dean doesn’t need this right now, but he doesn’t have the energy to be cruel.

“Where’d you get this?” Dean holds the amber liquid up to the light to read the label.

“Liquor store down the street. Don’t even feel bad for taking the five finger discount anymore,” she sighs and drops on the spare bed. “You gonna tell me about your little side mission or do I just get to guess at the outcome?”

Dean cracks the bottle open and sighs. “Bupkis. So, nothing to tell, really.”

She’s watching him for signs of lies, at least she’s not overtly antagonistic with her appraisal.

He offers her the bottle and she shakes her head. ‘Maybe she learned her lesson,’ he thinks and then takes a long pull off the glass rim.

“So, the Empty, huh?” Dean grimaces as she closes her eyes, taken aback.

“What makes you think I want to talk about it?” Her faces pinches and he is just too fucking tired.

“Because you always want to talk about it. It was kind of a thing.” Dean shrugs.

“I came to check on you, dumbass,” she mutters. He sits on his bed, leaves the bottle between them on the nightstand.

He doesn’t stop the sour hum that claws up his throat. He was trying to play nice, but she just had to keep on being the tough guy. “Funny, didn’t think you cared much what happened to me anymore, or how I feel about things at least.”

She has the gall to look surprised, but underneath it he sees she’s almost as tired as he is. “I did not come here looking for a fight. If you’ve got something to say to me--- Maybe you should remember who called who. And who dropped everything to help.”

“And I don’t seem to remember you doing too much of that,” Dean snaps back, turning his head only.

She pauses and Dean feels a little smug that he’s getting to her. But not nearly as much as he should. He cocks his eyebrows, waiting for her obvious answer.

She shoves him back on his proverbial heels instead. “We both know you were just keeping tabs on me. There wasn’t anything for me to do. And then I became a fucking bargaining chip. So screw you, Dean. I’m not here for a performance review.”

“I think we already established, no one is screwing anyone here,” Dean mutters, letting his head fall back against the wall. 

“Is that what this is about?! You are honestly bringing that shit up now?!”

“So what if I am? Better than acting like it never happened. Playing the fucking martyr,” Dean bites back. “I, at least, own my shit. Maybe you should try it some time.”

“You kicked me out! What was I supposed to do, wait on a damn cross until you finished your case?!” She still doesn’t get it. Dean’s chest is writhing with all the things they never buried.

“It doesn’t matter. We were family. And you threw it all away,” Dean lays it out.

“ME?!”

“Yes, you!” Dean’s standing, hunching over her, unleashing. “You had to make it about your feelings and the crush you had on me when we were kids. Don’t you see? It was more than that. We WERE more than that. But you were lonely, or horny or needed to drown your feelings. And you cheapened everything. And now---- we can’t even have a real conversation.”

It’s like he’s looking at a completely different person. He doesn’t even know her anymore. 

“Dean, I---” He cuts her off, this was entirely pointless.

“Don’t, okay? Just--- leave it. I’m gonna get some air.” Dean starts towards the door and slumps, half turned he continues, “Look, I’m glad you didn’t get stuck in the Empty. But Cas did---- And to be clear, this wasn’t ever about rebuilding bridges, it was about stopping Chuck. And we couldn’t manage that.--- But we can’t just go back to the way things were just because we’re all that’s left. The sooner you understand that, the easier this will be--- for everybody.”

The heaviness of wasted effort sinks into his shoulders. Dean closes the door behind him with a gentle click. They both know she’ll be gone before he gets back.

No one left in the entire world and one of my oldest friends still doesn’t want me around. This wasn’t humble pie, it was a goddamn humility infused vat of pie filling. Not a spoon in sight.

Fuck him. Fucking pie metaphors even. Fucking brain.

I leave the damn whiskey, but I really want to throw it against the wall. Dump it in his boots. Bath in it. But I don’t. I give him his twenty paces and I duck out, bypass my room, Jack’s, and head back towards the liquor store. There was a pick-up I might be able to hot wire, if I remember where I saw it.

I mash my lips together to stop their quake, but everything keeps clawing its way up, centering itself in my way. I did this. The one person I needed to believe in me and I fucking ruined it. It was never about Amara, or Cas or him being too good for me. I just wanted what wasn’t there. 

The dirtiness slides down and clings to me, like a wet coat. An unwashable stain, that’s all my presence is anymore. I don’t want to be where I am unwanted, unneeded, unuseful. Well, useless really. But, I can’t lose Sam too. Not again and definitely not now. I stop when I spot the truck. 

Running isn’t going to mend what running severed.

Know better, do better.

I creep back to the motel and pretend to sleep. There are salt lines dried across my skin when Jack knocks on my door.

The sun still rises. Dean tosses his things in his bag, even the whiskey. Waste not want not. They’re heading home to regroup or to hide or just for something to do. He doesn’t care, but being out in the open feels like he’s leaving them open for an ambush, or Chuck’s prying eyes at the very least.

He knows they’re not safe from that anywhere. It just feels safer somehow.

Dean feels good in motion. Sam’s at his side, while she and Jack sit in their own quiet corners in the back. The looming reality of an empty planet unnoticeable on the backroads. Denial is a helluva drug.

So is hope. Good thing he kicked that one.

When they pull into the garage, he doesn’t even bother grabbing his duffel from the trunk. Dean bee lines for the hard stuff and no one even bats an eye.

Maybe he has always been that predictable. Maybe he no longer cares.

I’m sitting on my bed, flipping through an old photo album when Sam finds me. It’s been three days and the bunker just keeps getting hollower the longer we stay inside. It’s like Chuck is slowly strangling the oxygen from the air.

I’m pretty sure I’ll be the first one to break.

Dean’s too far into a pity party at the bottom of a bottle to be pushed off any one edge and Sam’s too good at keeping on. Of course, Jack is getting by on sheer purity of spirit.

“How you holding up?” Sam’s voice is scratchy, but familiar, I don’t know the last time we actually spoke. I don’t really make eye contact, but shrug all the same.

“You?” I ask, unnecessarily.

He sits down beside me, looking over my shoulder. He huffs out a laugh at one of the pictures.

“I can’t believe you managed to keep all of these,” Sam says as he reaches over and slides his finger tips over the poorly taped Polaroids.

“They were at Bobby’s for a while, but I dug them out of a storage unit after--- well, after I fucked things up with your brother. Figured they were all I had left after that.”

Sam inhales at my bluntness, cocks his head because it hurts to hear, but also doesn’t sit right. What a doof.

“Spit it out, Legs, I know you wanna say something,” I goad.

“I guess I don’t really--- what happened?” Sam’s eternal need to know things going for my weak spot. “I mean, Dean said you tried to put the moves on him, but I guess, why was it so horrible?”

“Well, I actually have some new information on that front,” I offer, turning to face him and placing the memories on the far side of the bed. 

Sam’s brows pitch. 

“Apparently, I--- cheapened everything. Dean thought whatever our relationship was, was more important than hooking up. And I made it all about me.”

“He said that?” Sam asks in a hush.

“Yup,” I huff out. “And a very firm, ‘there is no rebuilding bridges’,” I say in my best/worst Dean voice.

“Wow.” Sam looks to the ceiling then scratches the back of his head. He doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s okay, I mean, I did kiss him. I knew it was a bad idea, but I had psyched myself up that entire night, misread everything. I’ve never been the one guys willingly go home with. I shouldn’t have forced it.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve had---,” Sam breaks off when he thinks about my asshole ex.

“I’ve had a couple of real winners,” I finish for him. “But it’s okay. Because now we’re the last people on Earth. No one left to break my heart.”

I slap the edge of the mattress and lurch to my feet, ignoring the pain in Sam’s eyes. He just lost Eileen and here I am moping about something that happened over two years ago. Once a shitty friend, always a shitty friend.

“You can keep looking through that if you want. I’m gonna start dinner,” I add at the door.

Sam nods, but he doesn’t reach for the album. He just sits on my bed and chews the inside of his lips.

Jack’s feeling things and Sam’s looking at Dean with insistence, but Dean’s hungover-leeched brain is not putting things together.

“What?!” 

Sam grimaces, heavy on the bitch factor. “I think you should be the one to tell her we’ve got a lead. Meanwhile, I’ll start packing the car.”

“Great. Sure.” Dean does little to hide his disdain. Sam doesn’t budge.

He grunts through an explanation as she cleans her gun. Luckily, she doesn’t ask too many questions because the vibrations of his own voice are adding to the throbbing at the base of his skull. 

She slips him a bottle of painkillers before ducking into the back seat next to Jack. He doesn’t say thank you, but he knows she knows he’s grateful. They used to be able to do that, not as easily as he and Sam, but silent communication was possible, once.

He gets them on the road before noon, the familiar feel of the wheel in his hands steadies Dean until the pain starts to subside. The soft, yet urgent Jack-P-S guiding their way.

They stop for an inevitable pitstop and Dean gets hit with a pure dose of that damning hope. A white, shaggy dog is laying outside the men’s room and his face breaks into a smile for the first time in weeks. It’s the proof he needed aside from Jack’s fuzzy radar.

Chuck didn’t get everything.

He scoops the dog up and shows him off to Sam, forgetting entirely about his need to pee. He sets the sudden miracle in the backseat, promises there’ll be enough room for him.

That’s when Dean spots Chuck in the field, menacing and knowing. Dean straightens on instinct, facing the threat. As Chuck raises his hand to snap, a gushing voice rushes to Dean’s side.

“Oh, who’s a good boy?!” She doesn’t see their destructive creator waiting in the wings and Dean moves to shield her from Chuck’s gaze. 

It’s too late.

Suddenly Chuck is standing beside the impala’s trunk.

“Now, how exactly did I miss you?” Chuck gapes, the disbelief and rage shifting across his once amiable face.

She chokes on her breath, freezes on the spot. Dean sees the power trip flash in Chuck’s piercing blue gaze. He likes when people are fearful, he likes to see them squirm.

“She wasn’t here when you iced everybody, Chuck. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s still just us,” Dean reasons, downplaying her worth.

“Nah, I don’t like it. It’s supposed to be you and Sam. Jack, fine. He’s just a pet anyway. But her? You guys get over your crap and suddenly there’s a whole new generation of thorns in my side. Sorry,” Chuck huffs and snaps his fingers. She disappears faster than Dean could take it in. “Not sorry.”

“What the hell?!” Dean barks. Panic, rage, and overwhelming sadness shoot through him as he dives towards Chuck. But he’s gone before Dean can get there. Falling to the gravel, gracelessly, Dean spins on his knees to see if Sam or Jack are still alive and accounted for. He spots their silhouettes through the convenience store windows. With that little platitude, Dean staggers over to soothe the dog’s sudden whimper. And then it vanishes too.

Maybe Dean never made it out of Hell after all.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging: @peridottea91​​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @flamencodiva​​ @akshi8278​​​ @dontshootmespence​​​ @smi727​​​ @ericaprice2008​​​ @crashdevlin​​​ @dolphincliffs​​​ @spnfamily-j2​​  

Read On: Free Will

[council-of-readers]

Second Chances

My gift for @prose-for-hire for the @buffyversegiftexchange! I give you guys: Angsty Spangel. Warnings for violence, but nothing worse than what's in the show. Enjoy!

~•~

The violent clash of their swords was drowned out by the sounds of battle coming in from every side. The moment was high tension, high risk, and high reward, and they both knew the likely outcome wasn't going to be in their favour. They fought side by side with reckless abandon. Despite their differences in the months leading up to this, they fought not just for themselves, but for each other.

"No, Spike. No way in hell."

He groaned in annoyance, "Oh, come on! It's not like you don't have cash to spare. 'sides, it'd keep me away from you, which Lord knows would be a blessing."

Angel rubbed the bridge of his nose. Not having Spike around to bother him so much would be nice, but he'd be back anyways in a week, asking for more money. Who even knows what he spends it on. Certainly not that decrepit apartment he called home.

"You're asking for eight hundred dollars, Spike. That's no small favor. Look just…" he trailed off, trying to think of a solution that'd get them both something they wanted. "Alright, how about this. You get money from me, regularly, if you agree to sign on to help."

His response surprised the both of them. It wasn't what Angel had expected himself to say, and it wasn't what Spike had expected to hear. 

Neither of them were disappointed.

Spike blinked, stunned for a second, before reverting back to his snarky persona, "Yeah, and have to be stuck 'round here most of my nights? No thanks."

"You would be out on the streets, only occasionally coming here to help with research. It would be virtually the same thing you were doing with Lindsey. You would have the chance to really help people, Spike. That's what you want, right? To be a hero?"

He scoffed, "Yeah, and come work for Evil Inc.? Doesn't really seem like that's a 'net good' I'd be putting out."

"Better than doing nothing."

Spike thought. 

"You wouldn't be on the official payroll. You'd be working for us, as a team, rather than Wolfram and Hart."

"Yeah,?" he chuckled, "Working for you, peaches? Bet you'd bloody love that…"

Angel crossed his arms, "No. For us. Listen, Spike, if you don't want to come on-"

"I will," Spike said, "Just be careful, yeah? Don't wanna accidentally sell my soul so soon after I got it back."

"You're in good hands. I won't let anything happen to you, or your soul."

"Angel!" Spike yelled out into the fray. He caught sight of the other vampire and waved for his attention. His head turned and Spike tossed him another sword. Angel shot him a small smile. It lasted only a half second but it still caused a familiar pang in Spike's chest.

Angel stabbed the swords into the chest of the being that towered over him. The creature toppled to the floor.

Angel tossed it back to Spike, "Thanks."

"No problem. Just watch yourself next time. Can't always save you." 

Spike, rearmed, turned back to face the oncoming second wave of demons, most of which he'd never even seen the likes of. It was daunting. He wasn't one prone to fear, especially not when it came to battle, but he felt his stomach drop at the sight. At least that damned dragon had flown off somewhere else for the time being. If he had to deal with that now he'd for sure be dusted within the hour. As things stood, though, he had a chance. Maybe not a chance to save L.A., but at the very least he and Angel could get out.

He'd try to save the rest, but Gunn was bleeding out somewhere, likely dead by now, and Illyria was sick with rage and grief, tearing a hole through the horde a few blocks from there. She was unlikely to be open to reason, and if he was being truly honest, he wasn't fond of the idea of going near her. He didn't have a clue where Lorne was. Poor guy was probably either dead or catatonic, and Spike couldn't blame him.

It's not that he didn't want to get everyone out, he just wasn't sure there'd be anyone left he could help. He and Angel were on their last legs as it was, and they were both strong, even for vampires.

They sat in silence, the muffled roar of the plane engines keeping them company. Spike didn't know what to say, and Angel didn't know what he could hear. They'd done it. They'd lost her. They'd lost Fred. It still didn't feel real.

Spike stared at the tiny empty liquor bottles strewn about before him. He'd expressed this before, but they really were pointless. A tease of relief. God knows they both needed that right now. He'd done his best to comfort Angel, but he's no therapist. Hell, he's not even his friend. That thought sent a sharp pain through him. One he chose to ignore.

Angel was lost in thought and in guilt. He was drowning in it. His head spun with a thousand alternative timelines, and they all came back to one point. Wolfram and Hart was the source. It was the source of their recent heartache, and it needed to be taken down. He looked over his shoulder at Spike briefly, hastily looking away when they made eye contact. He didn't know why, but he felt almost ashamed to be seen like this. He was actually concerned about Spike's opinion of him. He had been for a while. Ever since he started working with Lindsey Angel had felt a confusing mix of jealousy, anger, and pride.

He heard the click of Spike's seatbelt. He didn't look at him again. Spike sank down into the seat next to Angel unsurely, hesitating for a moment. A moment that Angel not only picked up on, but one he felt relief at. He didn't push the emotion away.

"We really did do everything we could." Spike said, and reached across the aisle. He took Angel's hand in his own and smiled softly. Neither of them knew the intent behind the gesture, and neither cared. It meant the world to them both.

Spike lost sight of Angel in the chaos. He spun around, half frantic, trying to catch sight of him, but to no avail. The battle raged on around him and Spike couldn't afford to devote too much energy to searching, no matter how desperately he wanted to. The roar of a demon caught his attention and Spike went to face it head on. The creature was big, much bigger than he'd expected from the sound it made. It was holding a club about the length of Spike's body and it's hands looked like they could crush skulls without a second thought.

It looked more like an orc than a demon. Maybe it was. There was already a dragon here. 

Andrew would get a kick out of this, Spike thought to himself for a moment. He hoped the little nerd was doing okay. They didn't know how far the carnage had spread just yet, and he prayed it was contained to L.A. He hadn't given much thought to the divine before now, but it seemed as good a time as any.

He braced himself for battle with the beast, baring his teeth and raising his sword. The thing made an expression that could be best described as the universe's most disturbing grin and began to charge. He stepped forward, preparing to give it his all.

The creature's head toppled to the floor. Spike paused for a moment, dumbstruck. Angel stood behind the body, weapon in hand and a smug look on his face.

"Couldn't let you save my ass without returning the favour."

Spike rolled his eyes playfully. Even in a moment like this they couldn't resist poking a bit of fun at each other. It was second nature at this point.

Angel attempted to wipe the blood from his face, but he only succeeded in smearing it. He groaned in frustration. He felt dirty, in more ways than one. He needed a shower.

He saw Spike staring at him, the cup still in his hand. He met Spike's gaze and held it for a few seconds. Not in challenge, but in acknowledgement. His victory hurt, in more ways than one, however it was still a victory. One that was hard fought and well earned. Spike had a soul now. He was a hero.

"You put up a good fight." Spike extended his hand out to Angel.

He refused it and stood up on his own. He didn't intend to offend Spike, and Spike wasn't hurt. It was an offer they both knew he wouldn't accept. It's purpose wasn't to be accepted, but simply to be given. It was a message.

Angel winced as he straightened.

Spike placed the cup back on its pedestal and spoke again. "I suppose we should head back now. Catch everyone up on the goings on down here."

"Yeah."

They stayed put. 

Spike felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at Angel's bloodied face. Angel had truly wanted to win, hadn't he? Spike wasn't disappointed with how things had turned out, aside from the cup of Mountain Dew, but he couldn't shake the need to apologize. He knew, also, that this had been another blow to something already so broken between them. It was a pity. He'd spent the last few months hoping that maybe things would be different this time. That they'd get a chance to talk. About anything, really. Just one genuine conversation would have been enough.

It hadn't happened. Not only because Spike was incorporeal, but because they both knew where one honest moment would lead. And neither of them were in a place to face that.

Angel began to walk out of the dilapidated building, and Spike followed suit. They didn't speak another word, and they both spent their separate drives back to L.A. regretting it sorely.

The city was collapsing around them, and the wall of beasts just closed in. The roar of the dragon grew nearer. Spike was dripping with blood, most of it wasn't his own, but enough was that he felt unsteady. Less from blood loss, more with pain. He had a pretty serious gash going down his back, and he'd been fighting for hours. His stamina wasn't poor by any standards, but he was growing weak. And it wasn't just him.

Angel stumbled to Spike's side, his hand clasped tightly over a wound in his abdomen. It looked deep. 

Spike furrowed his brow, "Hey, you're all torn up, mate."

"It's nothing." Angel gripped the hilt of his blade tighter, his other hand still glued to his side. "I can't afford to be taken down now."

They both looked ahead to the incoming storm.

"I know the feeling. What are we gonna do now?"

Angel removed his hand, and the bleeding began worsening as a result. Due to gravity, not to circulation. Still, it must have been damn uncomfortable. He tugged firmly in Spike's head, planting a solid kiss on his temple.

"We do what we've always done. We fight. We survive."

Spike smiled and laughed half-heartedly, "You always had the worst plans, Angel."

"And you've never had any better suggestions, Spike. So, we're in this together?"

"Always have been."

The horde fell upon them.

Angel leaned against the wall, the harsh fluorescent lights humming softly above him. His eyes were trained on Spike as he walked with Fred. He was surprised, to say the least, to see him here, considering all that went down on the Hellmouth. Surprised, and a little threatened. 

It was a strange feeling, having a ghost make you insecure. A little emasculating.

Fred laughed at something Spike said. Angel couldn't quite make it out from this distance, but he was sure he earned it. Despite how annoying he could be, he was pretty funny at times. It was kind of amazing how Spike was still cracking jokes in his current state. If it was Angel trapped like that, he'd be solemn, even by his own standards. It was an ability of Spike's he'd always admired. To make light in a dark situation. He could be a genuine pleasure to be around, if he wasn't too busy trying to prove himself to everyone.

Angel sighed and shifted his weight back onto his feet. He'd never told him that. He'd never told him a lot of things. Spike wasn't that annoying, even at his worst. He was just a painful reminder, sometimes. Seeing him joking around and smiling hurt Angel, and not for the reasons his friends would suspect.

Sure, he had his issues with the guy. Sure, he was feeling defensive over his status as a champion. And, sure, he was a little jealous of how charming he could be. Truthfully, though? He liked Spike. A lot more than he was willing to admit. But seeing him happy was painful. Because Angel knew that he struggled, that he grieved, that he killed, because of him. His happiness existed in the wake of unimaginable suffering. Suffering that Angel caused. His smile fell whenever Angel walked in a room, and Angel's cutting comments certainly never helped. He hoped maybe it could be different this time. 

If he could get the courage to just be honest about how he felt. At the very least, get the courage to tell him how much he really did like his poetry. It was always a regret of his that he didn't get to hear more of it.

Maybe he could convince Spike to read him one. Maybe he could convince Spike of a lot more than that. Angel was never the best with his words, but now was as good a time as any to start practicing. You don't get second chances often.

[clairecrive]

“All in our heads”- Tommy Conlon x reader

Summary: sometimes, despite being mostly all in your head, insecurities can find their way to plague your life. And we all have them, we just have to learn how to deal with them.

Word count:7.200 +

Tw: super long, angst but fluff at end

Tag list: @mollybegger-blog, @evelynshelby​, @br0ck-eddie​, @of-love-and-of-the-sea​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @fandom--0verdose​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @sopxhiea​, @fuseburner​, @ashesbelle​ (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

The had a wonderful night. The long overdue dinner she had organized with her friends had been a success. Everyone had fun and by the looks they gave her, y/n knew that they all loved Tommy. They only had been going out for a couple of months but she knew that if he couldn’t coexist with her friends, he wasn’t the right one. However, she couldn’t help but let the fuzzy feeling the comfort her friends gave her be shimmered down by a nasty thought. At first, y/n thought it was all in her head. It wasn’t that Frances was all over Tommy, it was just the way she was. And no, Tommy wasn’t into her, he was just being polite by engaging in a conversation with her. A conversation that lasted almost all night but whatever. It was all in her head. 

So when Frances had stumbled out of the bar and almost fell on her face and Tommy was quick to grab her, y/n didn’t think anything of it. And neither did she oppose when  Frances asked him for a lift home. She did live closer to Tommy and Olivia, who was driving, would have had to make an almost half an hour drive to bring her home.

However, now that it had come the time to say goodbye, y/n wasn’t feeling so sure in letting them go home alone. But it had already been all said and done and she didn’t want to appear clingy. She trusted Tommy. What was nagging her, was that she also knew Frances. And yes, they were friends but she was known to be the flirty one of the group. That didn’t necessarily mean that she’d actively flirted with their boyfriends but y/n and the other girls could never tell if she was just being herself or was really interested in the guy. And what if Tommy ended up liking her? Y/n didn’t think that Frances was Tommy’s type but she also didn’t believe attraction to be an exact science.

Eyes on their retreating silhouettes, y/n quickly went over their interactions at dinner and concluded that maybe she wasn’t exaggerating after all.

“She wants him.” Keeping her eyes on them, she talked to her friends that were behind her. She was starting to regret her decision to let Tommy bring Frances home. However, she knew that without trust, this relationship was doomed to fail even before it started.

“He doesn’t though. That’s what you need to focus on.” Olivia’s hand patted her shoulder to reassure her and letting out a sigh, y/n turned around knowing she was right.

She had to trust that nothing would happen between him and Frances, she told herself. Thinking back to the night, she got over every bit of his interaction with her to see if there was anything she’d missed that could prove to her that she was just overreacting. Frances was the kind of girl that loved to be at the centre of the attention, especially male’s ones. Tommy was attractive, it was obvious to everyone except for him maybe, but y/n knew that Frances liked him. She had been onto him all night long. Sitting in front of him, she had managed to keep him in an exclusive conversation with her since the moment they sat down. Sat on his right, y/n had been an involuntary witness. Now, of course, she hadn’t been focused on them the whole night. She had gone out to enjoy some time with her friends after all. But she could see the malicious twinkle in Frances'eyes every time she looked at him. The subtle smirk on her face when she’d say something that had drawn even the littlest of chuckles from Tommy. He wasn’t the talkative type so she did most of the talking but, thinking back to it now, y/n knew that he had kept his eyes on her for the entirety of their conversation. He was drawn to her, y/n realized in horror.

Tommy wasn’t one to show his feelings or emotion vocally but it was the little things that gave him away. And listening to you and paying attention, were some of the ways he’d show that he was interested.

How could she have not noticed that he was into her? 

Climbing into her friend’s car, y/n also came to another disheartening realisation: Tommy hadn’t spared her a glance. She had dolled up for him, trying to look cute for him she had put together a daring outfit that was out of her comfort zone. She had opted for a see-through white hoodie and a lacy black bra paired with tight black jeans and heeled black boots. It wasn’t her go-to kind of look but she’d chosen it to (maybe) get a reaction out of him. Usually, Tommy was always ready to shower her with compliments whenever they’d go out. She didn’t know, however, that it’d be pointless since all Tommy had had eyes for that night was Frances.

Becka shook y/n a little to get her attention. They were in front of her house and she hadn’t even noticed. Thanking Olivia for the ride home, y/n numbly made her way out of the car and eventually into her house. She got ready for bed since it was almost two in the morning, but deep down y/n knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she didn’t talk with Tommy first. 

She tried to, mind you. She got into the bed, tucked herself into the sheets, tried to focus on the fresh smell of the sheets, she even tried to count the sheep, but nothing worked. She needed to know, otherwise, she’d spend the night tossing and turning. Tommy had sent her a text to let her know that he had arrived home safe and sound like he usually did. So y/n knew he was home, she just hoped that he wouldn’t mind too much being woken for this. If he even heard the phone ringing, that is.

“What’s going on?” Luckily for her, he did. His voice was filled with tiredness and as she feared, she had woken him up. 

“Everything alright with Frances?”

“Yeah,” his voice trailed and the sound of shuffling filled her ears, “ you called me at two in the morning to ask me that?”

“Well, not exactly,” clearing her voice, she thought it best to stop batting around the bush. Speaking with Tommy had never been a problem for her. Not even in the beginning when she barely knew him. However, she was now finding it incredibly hard to ask him a simple question.

“Y/n?”

“Do you like her, Tommy?” The words tipped out of y/n’s mouth before she could second-guess herself.

“What?”

“You know what? This is stupid, forget it. I’m sorry I woke you up, goodnight Tommy,” y/n backfired quickly ending the call. Letting the phone fall at her side, she was now beginning to regret calling him.  Did she get the answer she needed? No. Did it change anything? No, apart from the fact that she was now feeling stupid too. Calling him in the middle of the night just because she was feeling self-conscious and feared that he liked another girl? C’mon y/n, you know better.

Great, as if the situation wasn’t already ideal, she had started talking to herself too. From good to better. All this mental activity and self-fustigation were proving to be good at something for she was starting to doze off. However, as her eyes fluttered close and her breath was about to settle, a noise startled her. A noise she knew too well: little stones were being thrown at her window. Someone was trying to get her attention and despite her almost asleep state, she knew who it was.

Only stopping to get her coat, y/n hurriedly got out of her house hoping that no one had heard the noise. She didn’t care that she was in her pyjamas with most certainly crazy hair, she could only think of getting out of this terrible cold and inside Tommy’s car.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you. You call me in the middle of the night when I know for a fact that you sleep like a log. I got worried.”

“You didn’t have to, Tommy. This could have waited ‘till morning.”

“Could it?”

“I acted on impulse, alright? I was thinking about it and I needed to know, that’s why I called you.”

“Why were you thinking about it?” But y/n was tired of getting around it, she was saying the truth when she told him that she needed to know. So she asked him a question of her own.

“Do you?”

“Do I what, y/n?” It seemed that Tommy still wanted to play games, however, she was having none of it. With a pointed look, she silently asked him to stop playing around.

Shuffling in his seat, Tommy nervously scratched his beardless face before scrolling his shoulders and muttering a quiet no. But it didn’t convince y/n in the least.

“Do you find her attractive?” She insisted, noticing how uncomfortable Tommy was. She fought against the little voice inside her head that was taking all these little gestures of his as proof. Until he confessed with words, there was still a chance that she could have misread the whole situation. She felt pathetic for hanging so tightly onto a slight possibility, but whatever. The game was still on.

“Why are you asking me this, y/n?”

“Why are you avoiding the question, Tommy?”

For a while, they just stared at each other. Y/n with a slight accusation in her eyes while Tommy looked like a scared kitten. He didn’t know what to do. He felt put on the spot and didn’t know how to react. This was why he didn’t do relationships. They were messy and complicated. But then again, she was asking a simple question and trusting him enough that he would tell the truth. Tommy, on the other hand, knew that he couldn’t do that. If he did, it would only cause troubles and his life was already complicated as it was.

“I saw how you were looking at her tonight,” she started, hoping that by taking the lead he’d be prompted  in answering her question earnestly as well, “ and then how you let her touch you and how your hands were all over her too.” Looking away and staring at her feet that were suddenly so interesting, she tried to find the right words to express her thoughts. “I always thought you were a private guy. Reserved and not very affectionate. People show their affection in different ways and so I thought that yours were not the touchy type. You never complain when I shower you with affection so I accepted this as the way our relationship was.” “But, you have never touched me the way you touched her tonight.”

“She was drunk and could barely stand on her feet,” he defended himself.

“Are you saying that that’s the only way you’ll ever touch me or is it just an excuse to avoid telling me that the reason why you’re not touching me is that you’re not attracted to me?” Her tone got sharper as she kept speaking, her head whipped towards him. But again, she got no response. Tommy did only stare back at her.

“Look, Tommy,” sighing she continued, “ you can’t really control who you’re attracted to, right?” She stared back at him, “I just want to know.”

“You’re right, I’m not very affectionate. Not in the normal sense, anyway.” “And yes, I think she’s attractive.” “My hands were not all over her tho’, I was just helping her out.”

Now that she had got what she wanted, she should feel accomplished. However, she was left feeling only more confused. He admitted that he did find her attractive but that wasn’t why he had touched her. Maybe the last point was true, maybe she had exaggerated a little. But there was still the fact that he liked her.

“Is this why you were so into her during dinner?”

“She talked and I listened, that’s it.” 

She scoffed. “You’ve only had eyes for her Tommy, can you at least admit that?”

“That ain’t true, she was in front of me, where was I supposed to look?”

“I was at your side Tommy, not that far away.” she muttered before asking, “Did you like my outfit?”

“It was nice.” But she knew he was lying.

“What was I wearing?” Y/n insisted, if there was something she hated, it was liars.

“Y/n c’mon, I never remember what you wear.” He groaned trying to come out of this clean.

“Maybe, but you always tell me I’m beautiful.” she smiled shyly tearing her eyes away from him, feeling a little stupid after saying that.

“You always look beautiful, y/n. You don’t need me to say it.” Chuckling with mirth, she shook her head, reading through the lines of what he was saying.

“You can’t remember because you didn’t look at me, Tommy. Not even once during the whole evening.” she pointed out. Tommy, again, didn’t deny nor confirm but at this point, he didn’t need to. 

Nodding to herself, she stared at her hands curled on her lap. Now that the truth was out, she needed to make a choice. Stay with him and convince herself that nothing really happened or part ways with him. The thing in itself could be perceived as something small and not worthy of a break-up, this much y/n knew. Of course, you can’t expect your partner to not find other women or men attractive just because they were in a relationship. And she had been honest when she told him that we can’t control who we’re attracted to. And yeah, that tickled her biggest insecurity but it didn’t bother her that much. She wouldn’t break up with him solely for that. What did bother her though, was that this attraction he felt was, in some way, getting in the way of their relationship. He wasn’t attracted to some Instagram model, Frances was part of Y/n’s group. And even if Tommy had said that he was just helping her out and that’s why he had touched her, y/n couldn’t ignore the fact that, for whatever reason, he had never really touched her. Were the two things connected? She didn’t know, she could only speculate because Tommy hadn’t answered her. Was it possible that she was just overreacting? That this was just how he was and she was creating a problem where there wasn’t one because she couldn’t ask him something that she knew he couldn’t give her and then construct a case on the fact. But was it what she was doing? Or were her concerns legitimate? 

Tommy shifting slightly on his seat brought y/n back. She was overthinking this. The only way she could sort this out was by talking to him. Turning her head slightly she peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. She knew that Tommy wasn’t a talker and she had a feeling that she wouldn’t get much more out of him tonight. It was getting late or well early, anyway so maybe it was best to discuss this again after a night’s sleep.

“Thank you for coming by, Tommy. And for your honesty but I think it’s best if we save this for tomorrow.” Her voice startled him a bit, he was also lost in his thoughts. Y/n then went to open the car door to get out of it just as his hand reached out to hers.

“Wait,” Tommy’s voice halted her and he waited for her to turn around before speaking again, “are we good?” The honesty and the innocence of the question made her heart tighten and she wanted nothing more than to tell him that everything was fine. But he had been honest with her so she owed him the same treatment.

“I don’t know,” y/n whispered reluctantly looking into his eyes. She went to get out again but he pulled her gently to him before she could.

“At least give me a kiss,” he muttered shyly while his eyes flickered to her lips. He knew that she was hurt and still hadn’t made up her mind about what to do, but at the same time, he knew that if she kissed him it meant that she wasn’t that mad and that things were going to be alright eventually. So when she just stroked his cheek gently, looking at his lips with what he recognised as longing, and then pulled away from him, he felt his breath get stuck in his lungs. She hadn’t allowed herself to kiss him.  Otherwise, she would have forgiven him too quickly. But this matter was important and she needed to sort her head out and understand how she felt about it before she could allow him to swap her off her feet with a kiss.

Watching her walk back to her house, Tommy knew that things were about to get rocky. He felt like this was his fault but at the same time, he felt clean enough to say that he hadn’t done anything. He did think that Frances was attractive but he hadn’t acted out on the feeling. Yes, thinking about it, he could see why y/n said that he had only had eyes for her at dinner. Was it because he was pulled to her? Not exactly. The girl had talked his ears off all evening and the only reason why he put up with it was that y/n was sitting right beside him. Anchoring him, calming him. If there was something y/n had gotten right was that he wasn’t affectionate. He very rarely would wrap his arm around her, or hold her hand in his or put his hand on her thigh when they were sitting next to each other but it wasn’t because he was too taken by Frances that he didn’t even notice y/n beside him. In all fairness, Tommy had never thought that she’d want him to do something like that. Y/n was very shy and reserved too so when they’d walk together or stand close to each other, she would keep her distance so he took it as a sign that told him that she didn’t want to be touched. It seemed like they both thought the same thing and instead of respecting the other’s boundaries like they thought they were doing, they were only driving each other apart. 

Tommy had a half mind to get out of the car and make her come down again but looking at the time on the dashboard, he thought against it. Tomorrow was almost here anyway, he could wait another couple of hours. Pulling out of her driveway, he knew that sleep wasn’t an option anymore. Better to put this time to use and think about the right words to say, he guessed.

The following day

They say that night brings good counsel. It certainly didn’t bring sleep to either of them. Y/n couldn’t help but overthink the whole situation trying to figure out if she could work this out with him or if this was one of those things she wasn’t willing to accept. On the other side, Tommy had spent the night trying to think of the next step. Even though he thought he hadn’t done anything wrong, he was smart enough to know that he was in a tough spot. He didn’t regret telling the truth because he knew that y/n deserved it and that she’d be more willing to work it out if he was. However, no matter if honesty was the best policy, it still had some repercussions. He could only hope that they weren’t irreparable. 

So, his whole working out routine was spent thinking. He knew that he cared about her and that being in a relationship meant that there would be some rough times. And while he hadn’t expected them to happen so early in the relationship, he still thought that y/n was worth the hassle that the inevitable confrontation would bring. It was now around lunchtime and he still hadn’t come up with a speech. 

Since it was Thursday, he knew that she’d be leaving university in about an hour. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, Tommy didn’t want to get used to the heavy feeling that had taken over his heart since last night, so he opted for picking her up. Luckily he had enough time to go back home, change and still make it on time for the end of her lessons.

And he did make it on time, he was even early so he got out of the car and leaned on its hood to wait for her- this way he was sure that y/n would see him. There wasn’t a bell that went off, signalling to everyone that the day was over. Maybe it was because the lessons had so many different timetables that it was impossible to stay behind them all. Tommy didn’t know any of y/n’s classmates so when he started seeing people walking out of the building, he couldn’t guess if y/n was about to come out too. Oh well, he thought, he’ll have to wait and look out for her. He kept his eyes on the crowd and felt himself cringe when they fell onto Frances’ face. He was about to look away and hide in his car but it was too late, she spotted him. She instantly smiled at him and made her way over to him while Tommy looked frantically over her shoulders hoping, praying, not to see y/n.  

Time was not his best friend today though, because as soon as he tore his eyes away from the crowd to greet Frances that was now in front of him , y/n walked out of the building and was making her way towards where they were standing since Tommy had parked right in front of the University entry. He had done it so that he wouldn’t miss her walking out but now that things weren’t going according to plan, he actually regretted the choice. Y/n was talking with Olivia so she didn’t immediately see them. Of course, she was bound to and when she did she stopped dead in her tracks. 

She… she didn’t know what to think. They had parted on the shared thought of talking the following day but she hadn’t expected him to come to pick her. If he even had come for her because by the look of it, it didn’t seem so. Maybe she really had been stupid in letting him off the hook partly and even considering staying with him. She tried to not make a big deal out of his attraction to Frances thinking that it was somewhat normal but now? Seeing them together? She found that she couldn’t just walk past this. They needed to address this problem and talk it through, however… did they really have to? Wasn’t it clear enough that Tommy was interested in Frances? At this point, what good does it do to talk? He had made his decision, it seems.

“Y/n…” Olivia warned her. She knew her friend well and looking at her staring at the couple, she was certain of what she was thinking. And while she found the whole situation a bit disturbing and unusual, she knew that Tommy did care for y/n and that the only way to solve this was to talk it through. But by the look on her face, it seemed that y/n had already made her mind up .

“You have to distract them,” y/n instructed her.

“What?”

“Please, I can’t do this right now. I need to walk past them without them seeing me.” Yes, Olivia thought that this wasn’t the best way to deal with the situation but y/n was her best friend, and she’d always support her. 

“Okay,” she conceded, “but just so you know, I do not approve of this,” she let her know before instructing her to meet her at the car. And then Olivia turned around and walked toward Tommy and Frances. While she was too busy talking about god knows what, Tommy was still looking around. Olivia could only imagine who he was looking for, but she had a pretty good idea. This only proved that she was right. But she knew that other than giving y/n her input on the situation, she had to leave it to her. Even if it meant watching her crush into the wall of her mistakes. Then she’d pick her up and dry her tears but for now, she’ll play along.

“Hey, guys. Frances, I thought you had already left.” Addressing her directly, Olivia moved so that the University entrance where y/n was standing was not in their line of sight anymore. She didn’t even bother hearing Frances’ response, once she had checked that y/n had slipped away unnoticed, she quickly said her goodbyes.

“Oh would you look at the time, I need to go.” And just like that, she left them and walked quickly over where her car was and where y/n was waiting for her. Unaware but unbothered by the two's reaction to her weird behaviour, Olivia almost laughed when she saw how y/n had tried to disguise herself.

“Are you running away from the law?” She snickered when y/n flinched at her sudden appearance but quickly unlocked the doors and slipped in all the same. At the same time Olivia pulled away from the parking lot, Tommy was realizing that there weren’t any more people coming out of the building. So y/n had either not come to University at all that day, or she was avoiding him. There was no way that she’d walked out and not saw him standing there. As Frances kept talking about whatever, dread suddenly filled him as he realized that of course, she had seen him. Y/n had inevitably seen him and that meant that she had also seen him standing there with Frances. And even if he had only begun to know her a little, he could swear that y/n had most definitely misread the situation.

“Was y/n in today?” Tommy didn’t even realize that he had interrupted her rudely, but he didn’t even care if he had to be honest. 

“Yes, I haven’t seen her since the last lesson ended though.” Frances looked puzzled but Tommy got exactly what he wanted from her. He quickly excused himself and hurriedly climbed into the car. His phone automatically connected to the car via Bluetooth and he asked for it to call y/n as he tapped into the traffic. But of course, she didn’t answer.

In a black Mini a few miles ahead, Olivia glanced down at y/n’s phone when she saw the screen light up and shook her hand in disapproval when her friend denied the incoming call.

“You’re making her win, you know,” Olivia observed keeping her eyes on the traffic.

“It’s not her Liv, I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it,” y/n sounded resolute and defeated but it went over Olivia’s head how could she be so blind and such a pushover.

“Listen y/n, I’m not saying that this is easy nor that it’s all in your head because he was pretty open about it, right? What I’m saying is that it doesn’t matter if he is attracted to her, you told him yourself that it’s something we can’t control. What should matter is who he is choosing to be with.” Taking advantage of a red light she turned to y/n to make sure that her words got to her.

“Have you not seen them before? He’s made his choice alright,” y/n’s voice trembled a little as she made this observation that, to her surprise, made her best friend snicker.

“Oh please, how blind are you? He was clearly waiting for you.” Liv was stating the obvious in her point of view but y/n hadn’t really thought about it that way.

“Do you think so?” She shyly asked her friend. Was it possible that she had misread the whole situation? In the meantime, Tommy was still calling her and she was still not answering. But she wasn’t declining either. 

“You should really talk to him,” Olivia suggested as Tommy’s name appeared for the tenth time on her best friend’s phone. Y/n stared at it while she pondered Liv’s words.

And then she accepted the call.

“Y/n?” Tommy spoke as soon as he heard the call going through, “where are you? We need to talk, please.”

Maybe Olivia was right, y/n thought, maybe she had got it all wrong. Tommy had never sounded so… desperate.

“I’m almost home, meet me there?” She proposed, nervously twisting the fabric of her jacket with her fingers. Tommy agreed and she ended the call under the approval of Liv’s eyes.

Y/n didn’t know if it had been the traffic being almost nonexistent or if Tommy had driven recklessly but they both arrived at the same time. While she thanked Liv for the lift and promised to call her later, Tommy parked in her driveway.

They started working towards each other at the same time but stopped a few feet away. In a stranger’s eyes, they must have looked weird, standing like they were, a few feet away, staring at each other. 

“Listen-”

“So-”

Of course, true to their awkward selves, they spoke at the same time, cutting each other off. Strange as it may seem, it helped diffuse the tension a little since both of them found it amusing. Softly nodding her head, y/n prompted Tommy to talk first. It looked like whatever he had to say, he needed to get it off his chest. But why was it that now that he had her attention, none of the words he had previously prepared were coming out? Why were they stuck in the back of his throat? There was no reason to be nervous. He would explain everything and y/n would understand and forgive him.

Taking a deep breath he decided to start from the beginning and work from there.

“I know you’ve seen me with Frances early,” he started tentatively. Eyes boring in hers, he tried to convey everything he was feeling through them. Y/n had always told him that he had expressive eyes, he hoped that they could help him now. When y/n nervously shifted on her feet and briefly looked away from him, he knew that it was her way of telling him that she did. So he moved onto the next point.

“And I know that you’ve probably misread the whole thing so I wanted to explain.” He finished and y/n could see that he was being honest and how difficult this was for him at the same time. Tommy had never been very good with words but she didn’t need a lengthy speech, she just needed him to answer two simple questions and then they could move on from this.

“I just need to know two things, Tommy,” halting him from continuing, she straightened her shoulders as if she was getting ready to physically bear his answers in case they weren’t what she was hoping to hear. He didn’t let out any sound but internally, Tommy was grateful that she had taken the lead. He probably would have made a mess with his words and made things worse. Hiding his hands in the pocket of his hoodie to hide his nervous gestures, he grunted. Ask away, he was saying.

“Why were you outside my uni today?” Before she could turn back and shy away from this confrontation, y/n asked the question with a firm yet kind tone. She wasn’t angry at him, not yet at least. She was just hurt by the possibility of him choosing Frances over her. But there was still a chance that that wasn’t going to happen.

Furrowing his eyebrows in surprise, Tommy wasn’t expecting that to be her first question. He answered her anyway, “I came to pick you up. Yesterday we agreed that we were going to talk today and I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.” He didn’t mention how his heart had grown heavier since she had climbed out of his car the night before. And yet, that seemed to be what y/n wanted to hear. Her cheeks reddened slightly when Tommy admitted that he was yearning for reconciliation. Well, maybe yearning wasn’t the right word to use but whatever. Even if y/n didn’t know, it was actually spot on.

The second question was the one that would actually seal the deal, and no matter if she was a little more heartened by his first answer, she was still on edge.

“Who do you want to be with?” And there it was. As the words fell out of her mouth, she realized that this was the important thing. The only thing she needed to know and the only thing that truly mattered. Because whoever Tommy decided to be with, he was actively choosing her over any other woman that he could meet- hopefully. It meant that whatever attraction he may feel, now and in the future, it won’t be acted upon. Because he had made his choice. 

It was a simple question but at the same time, it implied a more complex concept and Tommy was aware of that. He was slightly offended that she was doubting him, however, he knew where it was coming from after their last argument. He had never been really good at figuring out what she was thinking about, where her mind was at. Tommy had always considered y/n as a girl with a busy mind, thinking about nothing and a million things at the same time. In rare times of intimacy, she had admitted that most of the time, that was what brought her to self-sabotage. Because thinking was good and everyone should be able to think for themselves, she said, the problem is when you start overthinking. That’s what always got her. So in a way, even from his clueless position on her thoughts’ process, Tommy sensed that by focusing on two simple things, y/n was forcing her thoughts to simmer down. To not listen to the voices in her head that would paint a situation more dramatic than it really was and forcing herself to look at this in a rational way.

“I wanna be with you, y/n. I’m choosing you. Always.” And just like that, with three simple sentences, y/n’s mind was put at ease. No more voices whispering that she wasn’t enough, that Tommy was better off without her, that he would soon leave her for someone better. Enough of that. Her boyfriend was here, standing in front of her, reassuring her, telling her that he wanted her. Only her. 

Once, y/n had read somewhere that when you smile or laugh it’s because the body literally can’t contain the happiness you’re feeling. Looking into Tommy’s eyes, she failed to contain her smile and she realized that it was actually true. And that wasn’t the only thing she’d failed to do. After Tommy’s admission, she couldn’t bear to be apart from him anymore. Taking the last steps that divided them, her arms circled his neck and she held him close to her despite the height difference. As soon as he saw her reaching out, Tommy leaned into her and held her waist in a tight bear hug. As much as athletic Tommy was, after he’d bent like this for a while, his back would always start hurting. So, moving his hand to the back of y/n’s legs, he bent his legs to lift her up. Neither of them seemed to be wanting to let go any sooner, so he made sure that both of them were comfortable and walked over the bench on y/n’s house’s patio. 

“I’m sorry I overreacted.” She rested her face on his shoulder but even if her voice had come out muffled since it was still buried in his neck, Tommy heard her all the same. Leaning back so that he could see her, he quietly spoke next to her ear.

“I’m sorry I made you doubt yourself and us,” being honest with her had led Tommy to hurt her feelings when it was the last thing he ever intended to do, “I have never thought of being with her, y/n, I swear,” he added. Y/n knew that he was telling the truth, and that deep down this whole thing escalated because it resembled one of her worst fears. She slipped her hand on the back of his head and gently massaged the scalp there while he leaned his face on hers, his cheek on her forehead. Guilt was lacing his words despite her attempt to soothe him. 

“I trust you, Tommy, it’s just- seeing her so into you and then you admitting that you found her attractive it seemed like the universe was trying to show me that we’re not really meant to be,” she admitted, secretly hinting at her fear. To say that Tommy was baffled was an understatement. Apparently, he was one of those boyfriends that never had a clue of what was going on because up until now he had been completely clueless about this insecurity of hers.

“Why do you think that?” 

“I’m not saying that we’re not meant to be together,” realizing that she might have expressed herself wrongly, she lifted her head so that they were face to face, “I wanna be with you and it seems that you want to be with me too and that’s all that matters,” she added hoping that the conversation would end there. They had just solved a problem, she didn’t want to cause another. Unfortunately for her though, Tommy could feel that there was more that she wasn’t saying.

“But?” he prompted her in vain. Looking at her hands in her lap, well his really, y/n avoided his eyes and his question.

“I thought you trusted me,” he added when he saw that she was reluctant to speak.

“It’s just that sometimes I wonder why you’re with me,” she whispered but given how close they were, she didn’t need to speak louder for him to hear.

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows creased, letting the line between them come through. It seemed that today her goal was to make him more and more confused.

“C’mon Tommy, you can’t be that clueless,” she scolded him getting restless on his lap. Refusing to let her get away with this and climb off of him, he gripped her waist gently to keep her in place. 

“Tell me,” staring hard at her face, she was still not facing him, he encouraged her to speak. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she finally gave in. 

“You’re way out of my league Tommy, even a blind person can see that.”

Okay, now Tommy was absolutely stunned. What was she on about? He knew that she wasn’t the most confident girl but he didn’t realize she thought so little of herself.

“I could say the same thing about you, you know,” he pointed out what was a totally obvious thing for him but, judging by the expression on her face, it wasn’t for her. Actually, her face expressed a mixture of surprise and anger? It was her “do you think I’m stupid?” face.

“I’m serious,” shrugging his shoulders and tightening his grip on her. Nothing but honesty in his eyes. Y/n could see that but her insecurities run too deep for her to really consider what he was saying to be true.

“You’re way too smart for me. With all the things you know, all the books you read, I’m constantly asking myself why you’re with me.” If there was one thing that Tommy and y/n had in common was that they both would rather do anything else than talk about themselves and their feelings. Let’s say that they didn’t like being under the spotlight. However, for the right reasons- or rather for the right person, they could manage to endure it. Like in this case. Tommy could set aside his reservation to open up just as she did. “There’s nothing much I can give you,” he added softly searching for her eyes that, this time, were searching for his as well.

Her heart swelled in her chest at his confession while she smiled fondly at him. Tommy never ceased to amaze her. How could he doubt himself? Not only a good-looking guy but a good guy in general. Genuinely a good guy. Her hands found their way back to his neck, holding it gently while she spoke.

“That’s not true, Tommy,” she assured him, her thumb lightly stroking his lower lip.

“Just like those things you said ain’t either,” he argued before leaving a kiss on her finger, eye contact never broken. Taking his words in, y/n finally understood. It wasn’t a matter of what was true or not. What was the truth anyway? Isn’t it everything subjective after all? Just like their perception of themselves. What they thought about themselves, wasn’t necessarily shared by others. It was almost never shared, actually. What was that saying? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. 

Leaning down, their foreheads touched while she gave him an eskimo kiss.

“It’s all in our heads, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he agreed on her lips.

“Let’s make a promise then,” pulling away just enough so that she wasn’t talking on his mouth but still keeping a soft tone she continued, “in order to avoid something like this to happen again, whenever we’re dealing with our insecurities, we speak about it. I want you to come to me whenever you’re thinking like this and I’ll do the same,” she proposed. “I know it’s not going to be easy. But I really want this to work and I think this will help,” she added before he could object.

Of course, it wasn’t going to be easy. Neither of them was really keen on opening up and they both knew that. However, y/n was right, Tommy knew that however hard it’d be for him, he'd do it all the same if that meant avoiding the last few days from repeating ever again.

“I want this to work too,” he conceded implicitly sealing the promise, “can I have a kiss now?” he then asked with a slight smirk. Chuckling, y/n didn’t need for him to say it again. Closing the space between them, she placed her lips on his for a very much needed kiss. His hand trailed up in her hair to keep her in place as the kiss grew more intense. It was basically the PG-13 version of make up sex. Well, seeing how their tongues were enjoying themselves, maybe it wasn’t PG-13 that much but still, both of them would agree that sealing a deal had never felt this good. 

[skiller0dani]

L’amour De Ma Vie | Timothee Chalamet

M A S T E R L I S T

smut  requests info wanna be on a Timmy taglist? click here missed part 1? read it here

so I did my Billy Mitman thing. please let me know what you think as the chapters come out, I’m so nervous about it. love you babes xx  I’m running out of ideas, please send me requests l m a o 

btw I used google translate for the french bits don’t come at me if it’s incorrect. Timmy isn’t here to write the french parts for me :(  the translation will be located next to the french, italicized and in quotation marks. 

I listened to ‘La Vie En Rose’ by Chloe Moriondo during writing this. is perfectly captures the mood I was going for. 

Catch Up! Read Part One Here!

Public relationships are hard to maintain, with all the attention and expectations. 

The media and even fans expect the relationship to progress at a certain rate, and when Tim was dating Lily-Rose Depp, everyone was waiting for him to propose. But he wasn’t ready for that. Still isn’t. He wasn’t sure if it’s him that’s not ready or if it was the person. It’s not that Lily had done anything wrong, she didn’t. It was all Tim. Whatever he currently had with you was a huge relief, nobody even knew you existed in his life, not even his parents. Not Armie, not his family, not anybody. Tim wasn’t keeping you a secret because he was ashamed, no it wasn’t that. He needs a secret right now, something just for him and you. Something he could hide away in, and while he didn’t intend on meeting you when he’d gone to the club he can say meeting you was exactly what he needed. Tim did have to do some damage control during interviews when asked about the ‘mysterious girl’ he was seen exiting the club with that night. 

Tim always said you were an old friend, he said he hadn’t even seen you since. That it was a huge coincidence that he even ran into you. That’s not true of course, Tim sees you every single day that he can. The days he doesn’t see you, he calls you any chance he can get. Never in his life has he felt so obsessed with somebody, so completely consumed. Sure the sex was great, but talking to you was so much better than any of that. In recent weeks Tim has been avoiding having sex with you, it’s not that he doesn’t want to he does. He just doesn’t want you to think that’s the sole reason he sticks around. Lily took it personally towards the end of their relationship when Tim would turn down sex. He just didn’t feel like it, at least not with her. That’s when he knew he needed to end the relationship. 

Sometimes even private relationships are hard to maintain it would seem.  

Of course there were a lot of tabloids who didn’t quite buy his “just an old friend” story, and wrote speculative articles as to who you were. The two of you found it quite entertaining to read the theories, and to watch the fans unravel because who the hell are you?? Are you and Tim dating?? No you’re probably just family, oh my gosh but are you just family?? It was hilarious, in a cruel sort of way. Tim worried at first, made sure you weren’t too overwhelmed with all this attention on you even though the paparazzi didn’t even get a picture of your face. When you took him home from the club you had no clue Tim was internationally famous, he feels like maybe he should have told you before you fucked in the nightclub bathroom. You seemed intrigued by his career and the films he’d been in, he found that endearing. When the two of you first started seeing each other more often you’d told him you were going to watch every single movie he’d ever been in. Turns out you’re a woman of your word, because you then proceeded to watch every single movie he had ever starred in. Even briefly. 

Tim’s dad was never super inquisitive about his sons dating life, if it was someone Tim really saw a future with then he knew Tim would bring her by sooner or later. However you seemed to be something Tim remained very tight lipped about. Tim almost never mentioned you, and he always changed the subject if his dad questioned him about this mystery women who seems to have captured his sons attention. Tim really doesn’t know why his desire to keep you a complete secret to everyone is so strong, but he feels like he needs to keep you a secret. So when Tim’s phone rang and he saw his fathers contact for the 3rd time today, he grew nervous and nearly declined the call. 

“Bonjour fils,” “Hello son.” His father greets cheerfully, but Tim knows better. He knows something is up. “Dad, comment vas-tu?” “Dad, how are you?” Tim wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans as the dark clouds begin to gather together overhead. “I am well, but I do have a question for you.” His accent is thick, but Tim is used to it. It’s not the accent he’s focused on anyway. Tim’s parents become inquisitive only when they know Tim is hiding something important from them which is almost never. The silence on the other end of the phone is unnerving. “La fille, who is she?” Tim falls silent, he’s not entirely surprised this is the question his father needed to ask him right this moment. Tim itches the back of his neck as rain begins to drizzle down, Tim takes this opportunity to abort the call. “Dad? Dad? Sorry I can’t hear you.” Tim says, before faking a bad signal and hanging up. He feels guilty but he’s not ready to answer his dads question.

He was supposed to be walking to your small condo today, but clearly the rain has other plans as Tim stands a porch soaked to the bone.  

Normally Tim would drive but his car is too easily recognizable and it’s easier for him to disguise himself when he’s walking. His teeth chatter as his phone rings, he’s not at all surprised when he sees your name pop up on the screen. “Tim where are you? You’re going to get sick out there.” Your voice is thick with concern. It makes the corners of Tim’s mouth quirk up. Checking the closest street sign Tim signs, “still a few blocks away.” He says but is cut off when he hears your keys rattling. Seeing the streets flowing with a few inches of water as the rain begins to downpour, Tim’s voice is a little more worried than he intended when he spoke again. “No it’s way too dangerous for you to drive.” He protests but when he hears your front door shut he knows arguing with you is pointless. Tim slides his phone back into his pocket when he sees a bolt of lightning flash across the sky, luckily it should only take you a few minutes to reach him. 

With a flash of your headlights, Tim jogs to the passenger side of your car. 

His teeth are chattering hard and his wet hair clings to his forehead. There’s a healthy shade of rosy pink on his cheeks as he shudders when the heat hits him. “If you get sick I’m going to feel so bad for making you walk.” You begin your eyes glancing over at him during the short drive back to your place. Tim reaches over the center console, his ice cold hand finding yours as he squeezes once. “D-Don’t worry ab-bout it. I’ll be f-fine.” His voice is shaky as the shattering interrupts him. You wrap your tiny but warm hand around his as the rain pounds against the windshield. You can barely see. You don’t believe that he’ll be fine, and if he gets sick his director is going to be pissed. You pull into the garage at your house, and rush him inside. 

“Clothes off!” You exclaim as the two of you enter your kitchen. Tim raises an eyebrow at you, a playful smile on his face as he reaches for the button of his wet jeans. “Because they’re wet.” You sigh when he waggles his eyebrows at you. He shrugs with a wide grin on his face as you turn to get some of his clothes he’s left here from the laundry room. When you return to the kitchen, you nearly have to squeeze your thighs together at the sight before you. Tim is standing in nothing but his boxers, a towel over his head as he dries his hair. Droplets of water run down his toned chest and along his v lines. His eyes are closed as he pulls the towel away from his tousled damp strands. Tim’s eyes open and he smirks when he sees you, obviously letting your eyes trail down his body. “Can I have my clothes or are you going to stand there and check me out some more?” He teases, loving how your face blooms in a dark crimson blush. You release your vise grip on his clothes and hand them to him, your cheeks blushing even hotter when he sends a wink your way. 

You felt arousal rush through your body as you watched Tim yank his shirt over his head. 

Tim rolls his eyes playfully after he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and he sees you still gawking at him. He approaches you and presses a quick kiss to your lips before running his hands down your arms. While the two of you aren’t technically together, you do everything a couple does. Tim knows he could ask you and you’d say yes, but even that feels risky. It makes his chest close when he thinks about it, what you two have now is safe. It’s familiar. “Drink and movie?” He asks and you nod with a smile, moving to choose a movie as Tim heads into the kitchen to make drinks. You both feel comfortable getting a little tipsy, it’s obvious he’s going to be spending the night tonight. Even if it wasn’t raining he’d probably spend the night anyway. Tim spends more nights here than he does at his own apartment. You look through the movies, a heaviness in your chest. Why won’t he ask you to be his girlfriend? You know how you feel, you think you know how he feels. The way he acts, it seems like he really likes you. 

Holding your movie choice in your hand you skip back down the stairs, seeing that Tim has set up the DVD player and is waiting on the couch. 

“Whatcha pick babe?” Tim asks, popping an almond into his mouth as you kneel down to insert the disk. You smile but you don’t say anything as the DVD player reads the disk. The opening screen for ‘Call Me By Your Name’ comes on and you hear Tim groan. “It’s the only one of your movies I haven’t seen yet.” You smile as you snuggle into the couch next to him. Tim’s arm wraps around you as he keeps munching on the almond, watching the opening scene come on. “Yeah but this has sex scenes, you think I enjoy watching myself have fake sex?” Tim asks, discomfort on his face as you laugh. You reach over to take an almond from him, “I know I’ll sure enjoy it.” You smile and you feel his lips press against your head briefly. Your head rests against his chest as you take a sip of the drink he’s decided to make you. “Hm been forever since I had a gin and tonic.” You smile when you feel him squeeze you. 

When you see Tim come onto the screen, you can’t help but gush over how cute he is. 

“Oh Timmy! You’re so cute.” You squeal, loving how his cheeks tint pink at your complements. Tim only shakes his head at you as you continue to coo at the Tim on the screen, the only way he can get you to stop is to press his lips against yours for a short, sweet kiss. As the movie continues, you can’t stay focused. It’s not the movie, it’s a really good movie and you’re certain it’s become one of your favorites. No it’s not that it’s a bad movie, it’s the stupid adorable boy sitting next to you. You’re tired of the two of you dancing around what you really want to be, you don’t know what he’s still waiting for. Your cheek presses into his chest as you only half watch the movie. You take another big drink of your gin and tonic before resting against Tim again. Almost as though he can read your thoughts Tim pauses the movie and sits up to look at you. “What is it?” He asks, turning to sit in front of you, his legs folded. You blink as innocently as you can, but when you see the look in his eyes you know you can’t beat around the bush any longer. 

“I really like you Tim, I want to be with you...it just feels like you don’t want that too.” You admit, your eyes not meeting his as you stare down at the couch. You hear a deep sigh come from Tim before he takes your hands, his thumbs rubbing along the backs of your hands. Tim reaches forward to hook a finger under your chin to bring your eyes up to meet his. He was afraid he’d make you feel this way, he never meant to. He wants you more than you could ever understand. “I want that, more than I could ever put into words. I guess I’m just afraid that if we go there, what we have will change. I don’t want this to change or to become the ‘medias’ relationship rather than our relationship.” Tim says softly, and your eyebrows pinch together. 

“What do you mean?” You ask him, your hands curling around his tighter, and you see him nibble on the inside of his cheek. “When I dated Lily, she always wanted us to act a certain way for the camera. Or maybe I just felt like we needed to be different for the medias eyes. It was so much work always having to be careful about what I did with her or said to her because there were eyes on us all the time. What I have with you makes me feel so free, I don’t want that to change. I don’t want us to be poisoned by the media.” Tim says, and you can tell a huge weight has been lifted from his chest by him saying this. Your hands reach up to cup his cheeks as you pull his lips to meet yours. 

“That won’t ever happen to us. We’ll be careful about the media, we’ll keep this a secret.” You reassure him as you crawl into his lap. You see the look of fear on his face beginning to melt away as he winds his arms tightly around your waist. Tim’s forehead presses firmly against yours, “so do you really want to do this, with me?” He asks and you know he isn’t joking. He’s being dead serious. You wind your arms around his neck with a smile on your face as you brush your nose against his. “I want to be yours.” You whisper and he smiles before he stands, with your legs wound around his waist. “Then be my girlfriend.” Tim whispers and instead of answering you press your lips firmly against his. He carries you up the stairs, his lips beginning to move more frantically against yours. His hands slide down your back to grab at your ass, causing you to gasp into his mouth. 

He drops you unceremoniously onto the bed, his hands immediately sliding up to hook into your sleep shorts you have on. Tim’s lips pepper kisses along your collarbones and neck. Your back arches into him as you card your fingers through his damp hair, still mostly wet from the rain. Tim pulls your shorts down your legs slowly and groans softly when he sees you’re not wearing panties. He kisses his way down to the swells of your breasts. You start to lean up to remove your tank top but Tim reaches up and grabs your shirt between his hands before yanking, splitting the fabric in half. You moan as he does so, immediately pulling his head down to your chest. Tim chuckles against your skin as you arch against him, whining as his right hand slides between your bodies to toy with your clit. “God Tim,” You moan, your voice broken as you wriggle your hips against his hand. Tim’s lips latch to your nipple as he slides 2 fingers into your wet opening. 

You spread your thighs wider for him as his teeth gently sink into your nipple causing you to cry out. Tim begins to quickly pump his fingers into you while whispering dirty words into the skin of your breasts. “Gonna cum all over my fingers baby?” His voice is husky and you can’t offer more than a frantic nod as he scissors his fingers open to stretch you. “Fuck Tim!” You cry out, your fingers curling around your bed sheets as he crawls down your body to latch his lips to your clit. He sucks your clit into his mouth to flick it with his tongue and as he does so you explode around his fingers but he doesn’t stop. Your eyes roll back as he continues to pleasure you, the overstimulation becoming too much. As you feel your orgasm approaching a second time Tim bites gently at your clit and it’s like a switch flips inside you, and you squirt all over him. 

Your chest is heaving as Tim pulls away, quite literally covered in your cum. You blush hard as he wipes his face, his pupils dilated as he gazes down at you with a lustful smile. “Fuck baby you’ve never squirted before, you’re so sexy.” Tim growls as he leans down to press his lips against yours again, to try and kiss away your embarrassment. You feel the head of his cock nudging against your entrance and you immediately part your thighs wider to make room for him between your legs. “Mine?” Tim asks, his eyes soft as one of his hands reaches up to brush hair away from your face. “Yours.” You confirm, nuzzling your nose against his as he slowly pushes into you. With one languid thrust Tim slides all the way inside you, and you both gasp in pleasure. You press a hand to his hip to hold him deep inside you. Tim’s forehead presses against yours as he sits still inside you, “L’amour de ma vie.” He mutters, his French rolling smoothly off his lips. You smile as you press your lips to his, even though you don’t know what it means you’re sure it means something beautiful. 

Tim pulls his hips back and gently slides back into you, and you see starts when he hits that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. Tim continues to slide sensually and gently into you before drawing his hips back and driving into you softly again. Your forehead stays pressed against his as both of you pant into each others mouths as you feel your high coming up on you again. “I’m gonna cum baby,” You cry out softly as you grab and claw at his shoulders. Tim continues his slow and steady pace, his lips finding the skin of your neck. With a few more swift thrusts into you, you come undone around his cock. Feeling you squeeze him Timothee groans, cumming inside you in gentle spurts. 

Tim pulls out of you with a wince before rolling onto his back beside you. “What did it mean?” You ask as you turn your head to look at him. A cheeky smile crosses onto his face as he presses a kiss to your lips. “Maybe learn some French and you’ll know.” He teases and you roll your eyes as you hop up from the bed. Tim smiles as he pushes off the bed, “come on! We still haven’t finished the movie!” Your excited little voice calls from downstairs and Tim smiles while shaking his head. He doesn’t even bother to put his clothes on, you didn’t. 

You really are the love of his life. 

***taglist*** @irishbish​ @y2k-wildfire​ @newletas​ @londonmademedoit​ @80sangelics​ @swim-reaper​ @elisaaru

[dontshootmespence]

You’ll Get There

Summary: You plodded along. Day after day. Using the little joys to push through. Until one day your secret is revealed.

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Word Count: 1,553

Warnings: Self harm, depression, body issues, body image issues, insecurity. This is heavy, and really real for a lot of people, SO PLEASE BE WARNED BEFORE READING.

A/N: This is for an anon who is going through some things right now. <3

As you stared at the ceiling, your eyes felt heavy. You just woke up and all you could think of doing was going back to sleep. Being awake was too hard. Too pointless. 

But you had to work. Apparently that was a thing you had to do to keep on living. Slipping out of bed, you plodded toward the bathroom and the unholy mirror, readying yourself to look in the mirror and hate what was staring back at you. 

You turned on the light before you walked over the threshold of your bathroom. Over the years, you outfitted your bathroom with anything and everything you could think of to make it more inviting and comforting, but it did nothing to lessen the mocking silver reflection that caught your eye the second you walked in. “Fuck off,” you said to the inanimate object, almost angry it didn’t say anything back - at least then you could fight something and get some of this hatred out of your body. 

Zoning out as you brushed your teeth, you closed your eyes and tipped your head up toward the ceiling, brushing until your mouth hurt. After spitting into the sink, you couldn’t evade your reflection and stood there staring for what seemed like hours, honing in on everything you hated about yourself. Before too long, you got disgusted with yourself and walked back to your bedroom to get changed for work.

Once you decided on some dark wash jeans (the only kind deemed appropriate by your office) that were ill-fitting to say the least, and a plain red t-shirt that probably could’ve been thrown away years ago, you got dressed, pulling your pants up to your knees before sitting down on the bed. A few quick cuts with your razor drove endorphins through your body. You hated that was the relief you found; that you couldn’t find it anywhere else, but that was your life now, so you muddled through.

The only thing you had pushing through each day was your weekly pizza nights with Spencer, who lived one floor above you, but unfortunately his job had him away from his apartment more often than in it, so you hadn’t been to his place for two weeks. Thankfully, he was going to be home tonight.

As you ambled your way down the stairs, you found yourself thinking dangerous things. What would the world be like with you gone? Would anyone miss you?

Slipping into the car, you allowed a tear to fall before drying your eyes, using your pointer fingers to wipe away the waterfall of tears awaiting release. With a deep breath, you pulled away from the curb and went to grab your morning coffee. It was things like that - the routine of your favorite coffee - that kept you going each and every day. It saddened you. But maybe it was enough for now.

                                                             ------

Work slogged by slower than molasses. Every minute felt like an hour. You’d forgotten breakfast, forgone lunch because you felt like you didn’t deserve and were so hopped up on caffeine by the time your shift was over that you went through one of your favorite drive-thrus and binged leaving you feel like a complete sack of shit.

Thank God Spencer was going to be home tonight. Literally, each small moment with a friend, each song that came out from your favorite artist, each move that “you just had to see” - it was all that kept you going. 

After texting Spencer to make sure you were still on for tonight, you drove home and quickly released some tension in the only way you knew. A few new ones on the opposite leg then you cut this morning. A couple on your arm. Spencer texted back to say he was on his way back to the apartment with pizza, which gave you a few more minutes with your seemingly closest friend. Shining metal pierced soft flesh a few more times, just deep enough to feel something, but not deep enough to do any real damage. When you thought of that kind of injury, your heart dropped, which was the only thing that kept you from doing it, despite how god awful you felt. 

You bandaged up the cuts and slipped into some super baggy pants and a sweatshirt, forever wanting to hide the body you hated so much. Spencer assumed you dressed that way for comfort, which is why he always joined you and wore pajamas - if he only knew the truth. 

Your timing was immaculate, both of you arriving at his door within a minute of each other. “Have a good day at work?” He asked.

“I had a day,” you laughed. “But I’m alive.” He didn’t realize what an accomplishment that was. 

Spencer jimmied the keys in the lock and swept the door open, allowing you to walk in first. “Do you mind if I grab something to drink?” You always felt the need to ask, like you were being an imposing ass if you did anything else. 

“Y/N, my place is your place. Feel free to get whatever you want. You don’t have to ask.”

And now you felt bad for asking. 

You reached into the refrigerator and grabbed some juice, pouring a glass in the hopes that you could put off eating pizza for the time being. Binging after you left the office made you feel like you shouldn’t be eating anything for the rest of the day. 

As you reached into the cabinet and grabbed a glass, Spencer opened the pizza box and turned to grab plates, freezing in place. “Are you hurt?” He asks. You look down and see a blood drop on the floor. One of the cuts must’ve been deeper than you thought, the bandaids usually covered the evidence. 

“No, I’m fine, Spence. Don’t worry.” You hated having people worry about you. Made you feel like a burden to the world. 

Another drop fell to the floor. When you clutched your arm, he knew. “Y/N...”

“It’s nothing, Spence.”

“You’re hurting yourself. That’s not nothing.”

“I’m nothing. So it seems fitting.”

Spencer eyes blanketed with tears as he begged you to sit on the couch with him. “Please. Talk to me.”

“It doesn’t make sense. I know it doesn’t. I don’t wanna burden you.”

“You’re not. I’m asking you to talk to me,” Spencer replied. His voice was shaky and his skin was paler than usual. “Please, Y/N.”

“I don’t know,” you started, completely unsure of where to begin. How could explain how you felt? If you knew, you could do something right? “I hate myself.” It was a simple statement, but it was at the root of everything. “I don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror. I either binge or don’t eat depending on the day. I feel like a burden to everyone around me. Honestly, it’s just little things, like having pizza with you or listening to my favorite song that keeps me from ending it all.”

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. “I can’t say that I personally understand where you are right now. At least not to the degree that you’re feeling it. But you aren’t alone. Ever. When people love you, you’re not burdening them. They’re opening themselves up to help you because they want to help. Will you let me refer you to someone? The psychologist the BAU works with, her friend has someone that specializes in your type of struggles.” He could sense the hesitance in your muscles. “Please. I know what your brain is telling you right now. That you don’t deserve kindness of any sort. But I’m telling you that’s bullshit. It’s garbage. And with time and help I think you’ll believe it.”

“I’ll do it,” you said softly, adding quickly, “for you.”

“I’ll take that.” He said quickly, relief flooding his voice. “Eventually, you’ll be doing it for you, so I’ll take what I can get now.”

Spencer stood up quickly, kissing your forehead as he ran into his bathroom. He’d never done that before. You two were friends. You wanted more, but didn’t believe yourself worthy, or that he’d return your feelings. 

When he sped back, he had bandages and some antibiotic cream, peeling your sleeve back without words to clean your wounds. “Thank you,” you said, watching a drop of water fall to the couch. You were crying. “Thank you, Spence.”

He slid his finger under your chin and tipped your head up to see the genuine concern in his eyes. “You’re welcome. It’s what you deserve. Okay?”

“Okay.”

After cleaning up your cuts, he pulled you close, allowing you to rest your head against his chest. Instead of eating and watching tv like you normally did, he just turned on some music and brushed his fingers through your hair. “I know I’m away a lot with work, but please, whenever you feel like cutting text me instead. I may not be able to get to it right away, but I will read it, and I will respond.”

Heavy with exhaustion, you nodded your reply, tears turning his light grey pajama shirt much darker. “I want to feel better. I just don’t know how.”

“It’s going to take time,” he said. “But you’ll get there.”

[auncyen]

Ok ok so I'd been idly thinking about updating "Chats with Joker in Mementos" for Royal for a while, except as far as I know there aren't any transcriptions for the Royal Mementos chats like there is for Vanilla...

So...after some questionable use of my time, I now have a list of a good chunk of the starters in Royal. Only starters, not responses, since the point of the fic is having Joker be the one to respond, and I didn't transcribe ones I didn't think would be interesting for him to respond to, but still, if anyone does ever look to do a complete transcription, this might be helpful as a start? Or just interesting if you want to see what some characters talk about. Spoilers for third semester below cut.

Ryuji: Man, we really bust our asses to get stronger in here. I wish it meant we got stronger in the real world too.

Ryuji: Man, I had this horrible dream last night… Can’t remember a thing about it, though.

Ryuji: Ya know what? I guess Mona does have a mask, technically.

Ryuji: Yo, the way he jumps behind Shadows is so sick!

Ryuji: Yo, is it just me, or is fallin’ asleep getting tougher every night? At this point, I’m outta ideas of what to do.

Ryuji: Kinda fiendin’ for some ramen right about now… Maybe I’ll hit up Ogikubo when we get back.

RyujI: So lately, I’ve been tryin’ to work some training into my nightly routine before bed.

Ryuji: Hey, is it just me, or is Morgana’s sword basically the same size as Joker’s knife?

Ryuji: My mom made gyudon last night! My fave! Now I’ve got, like, fifty times more energy than usual!

Ryuji: This phantom thief stuff feels real as hell whenever he’s flyin’ around with that grappling hook.

Ryuji: Dude, that grappling hook is awesome! He looks like a freakin’ superhero with that thing!

Ryuji: Aww man, I just can’t get enough of those Akihabara maids…

Ryuji: Aren’t knives kinda hard to use ‘cause of their shortness? I definitely prefer my own shit.

Ryuji: I always thought darts looked easy—just aim for the board, y’know? But, it’s waaay harder than that.

Ryuji: Every try the monja in Tsukishima? That stuff is LEGIT.

Ryuji: Yo, does this outfit really make me look like I’m part of some biker gang?

-

Morgana: Listen, it’s not that I look like a cat. Cats just happen to look like me.

Morgana: I repeat: I am not a cat. To prove it, I took an actual bath yesterday.

Morgana: So, cats love to chase mice, right? I don’t get it—where’s the fun in that?

Morgana: I’m always so entranced by Panther’s whip technique!

Morgana: Panther, we have matching tails!

Morgana: You know, I’ve never actually been in a car before. Is it anything like I am now?

Morgana: I definitely made the right decision giving him the code name “Joker.”

Morgana: I’m willing to bet Joker’s skilled enough to use throwing knives.

Morgana: Anime, books, movies… Phantom thieves sure are popular.

Morgana: Last night I dreamt that Phantom Thieves were kicking some serious butt—let’s bring that dream to life!

Morgana: I can teach you everything you need to know about being a phantom thief. Relax—you’re in good hands!

Morgana: *yawn* I didn’t get enough sleep…

Morgana: I couldn’t fall asleep at all last night. I just laid there with my eyes open…

Morgana: I like Yongen-Jaya; it’s a great place for a stroll.

Morgana: Is Shujin Academy the only thing in Aoyama?

Morgana: I was vegetating in front of the TV last night, and I have to say, there are some pretty decent shows on now.

-

Ann: The bakery had a sale yesterday and I ended up buying everything they had!

Ann: The Ferris wheel is a must for me at theme parks, every time. I love being able to just relax.

Ann: I have an upcoming shoot at a theme park, but what sucks is how I can’t go on any of the rides.

Ann: Last night I dreamt I was eating a chocolate bar, then all of a sudden, it got mad and started chasing me!

Ann: Every once in a while I have a dream where I get chased by a Shadow…

Ann: I’ve been sleeping really well since I started getting all this exercise.

Ann: I was up late watching TV last night, so I might be a little sleep deprived…

Ann: I tend to do my clothes shopping in Kichijoji—it’s fun looking through all the resale shops.

Ann: I hate when people ask me to say stuff in English just ‘cause I lived overseas.

Ann: It always bothers me when foreign movie subtitles leave stuff out or take too many liberties.

Ann: I was talking to my overseas friend the other day—her straightforward attitude was really refreshing!

Ann: I was talking to Shiho on the phone and before I knew it, three whole hours had passed!

Ann: Joker seems like he’d make a good cook, doesn’t he? I mean, he’s great with his knife and all…

Ann: It’s actually quite exhilarating to attack with a whip. I wonder why that is…

Ann: Whenever my foreign relatives come to Japan, they always rave about how much they love Japanese food!

Ann: Do you think there’s anything I can do about my outfit? I feel like I stand out too much in this…

Ann: Is there a difference between a whip and a grappling hook?

Ann: Ya know, Skull’s always been into skull designs and stuff.

Ann: Wouldn’t a grappling hook be awfully handy in the real world?

-

Yusuke: I wish to paint the world as only I see it. The best way to succeed at this is through practice.

Yusuke: It’s fun to walk around and inspect different temples and shrines. The architecture is always impressive.

Yusuke: If Shadows are sentient, do you think their being moved by a painting would invoke a change of heart?

Yusuke: There have been times where I was compelled to create three-dimensional art.

Yusuke: I’m quite curious about Mona’s Western-style sword…

Yusuke: I hear whips are quite difficult to use. Where did you learn how to wield one?

Yusuke: Joker using a grappling hook…. That would make for a picture-perfect composition.

Yusuke: Mona, what exactly do you have in those pouches?

Yusuke: Creating a piece of art is pointless unless I can convey the full essence of the subject.

Yusuke: Art museums stimulate my creativity like no other place—I wish I could live inside one.

Yusuke: Skull and I both use long melee weapons, but they’re total opposites of one another.

Yusuke: Why does my outfit have a tail? I don’t understand…

Yusuke: I considered growing my own bean sprouts, but it seems to be more expensive than buying them grown.

Yusuke: I once had a dream that I washed up on a deserted island. I painted as much as I pleased… So wonderful.

Yusuke: I may specialize in Japanese-style painting, but I’d like to learn some Western techniques as well.

Yusuke: That grappling hook is very useful. I should find a way to utilize one in my daily life.

Yusuke: The other day, I went into the mountains to gather vegetables so I could cut back on food expenses.

Yusuke: I tried to paint a landscape of the starry sky once, but it’s quite difficult to do so from within the city.

Yusuke: India ink isn’t my specialty, but I’ve been experimenting with it in some recent work, just for fun.

-

Makoto: I may have stopped being a doormat for adults, but people are still calling me a “teacher’s pet.”

Makoto: A phantom thief’s body is their most vital asset. We need to make sure we eat balanced, nutritious meals.

Makoto: Do you enjoy visiting theme parks? I’ve rarely been to one myself.

Makoto: Fox looks cooler using his katana than I had originally imagined.

Makoto: I had the weirdest dream… I was at school, but I was wearing my phantom thief outfit.

Makoto: Would anyone care to learn how to drive, while we’re here? This place seems as good as any for practice.

Makoto: I know it’s not very healthy, but I do enjoy eating ramen from time to time.

Makoto: Once I’ve graduated, I’m going to buy a motorcycle and go on a road trip.

Makoto: I’ve been working on my grades because I still want to attend college, despite being a phantom thief.

Makoto: I want to read a certain book, but it’s out of print. Where do you suppose I could find a copy?

Makoto: Maybe I’m just burned out, but waking up has grown awfully difficult lately.

Makoto: The grappling hook’s cable seems pretty strong, but it’s scary to think what could happen if it snapped.

Makoto: Once my sister brought home some sushi for me. It was indescribably good…

-

Futaba: I heard rhythm’s an important part of fighting, sooo… I started playing a rhythm game!

Futaba: There’s going to be an event tonight in the MMO I play. I can’t wait!

Futaba: This MMO I’m hooked on is really cool. Do you wanna play with me? Oh—it’s in English, though.

Futaba: I’m about to beat the game I’ve been playing. Wonder what I should play next?

Futaba: I’ve been going outside a lot more, so now I’m sleeping way better than I did when I was a shut-in.

Futaba: Guess what? I’m making a game called “Hungry Hungry Mona”!

Futaba: You know who’s a really good driver, is Sojiro. He can parallel park with his eyes closed!

Futaba: If you could shoot grappling hooks from your hands, you’d probably be able to get around just using those!

Futaba: Ya know, I’ve thought about workin’ out and fighting alongside you guys.

Futaba: You guys should try playing shooters! It could help you improve your gun skills.

Futaba: Last night I had a dream my hard drive failed… That was scary.

Futaba: Wouldn’t it be cool if you could mod the grappling hook so it was electrified?

Futaba: Sure, the internet’s convenient, but it’s not like it can do everything. Don’t overestimate its capabilities.

Futaba: I wonder if I’d be okay going to some place by myself if it wasn’t crowded. Inokashira Park seems nice.

Futaba: Yesterday Sojiro bought me my favorite instant yakisoba!

Futaba: Maybe I should get a gun too, just for self-defense… Nah, my hands need to be empty.

-

Haru: I found this cafe in Kichioji with phenomenal tea—would you care to try it sometime?

Haru: I ordered kusaya but they refused to make it—they said they couldn’t get the smell out of the kitchen.

Haru: I feel like I need to learn more about the world, but I’m not sure how to best go about it.

Haru: Recently, I’ve been finding rare delicacies rather enticing…

Haru: Even lately, I sometimes dream about doing phantom thief things with Mona.

Haru: If you’re having trouble getting yourself to relax, I recommend herbal tea.

Haru: Asakusa is a wonderful area—I love how it’s this blend of the old and the new.

Haru: Ever since I started high school I’ve been taking the train in the morning, but I’m still not used to it…

Haru: Queen, your mask looks like it’s made of iron. Doesn’t it get heavy?

Haru: Joker’s so acrobatic! He’s really got the hang of that grappling hook.

Haru: I don’t think I’ve gotten this much exercise since I was in ballet.

Haru: Let me know if you ever get a tear in your clothing—I’m good at sewing, so I could most likely fix it.

Haru: I dreamt that the vegetables I’d been growing all died… I was so sad.

Haru: Your weapon seems fun, Skull. Do you want to swap sometime?

Haru: Sometimes it’s impossible for me to fall asleep on days that we’ve been to Palaces, no matter how tired I am.

Haru: You know, before this, I’d never considered using an axe for anything other than chopping firewood…

Haru: My hands have gotten all calloused… I supposed it comes with the territory in gardening.

-

Akechi: I have no intention of changing my stance on matters, no matter what anyone may say.

Akechi: Pancakes... I don’t want to hear that word again for a long, long time.

Akechi: We don’t have much time left. Please do what you can to avoid getting sick.

Akechi: The enemies are stronger than ever. Don’t let your guard down.

Akechi: A world that panders to your every whim is so mundane. Where’s the thrill if there’s no competition?

Akechi: Do you prefer my previous outfit or this one? Moving around’s become much easier for me.

Akechi: This place is immense. If there weren’t train tracks everywhere, I’d bring my bike here.

Akechi: We’re working under the constraints of a time limit, so I’d appreciate it if you could be more efficient.

Akechi: If you’re looking for a way to train both your mind and your body, I highly recommend bouldering.

Akechi: You think I’m frightening when I fight? Well, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to accept it.

Akechi: I meant to tell you, regarding Shido… Thank you for keeping your promise.

Akechi: You may not like working with me, but I’m counting on your assistance until our goal is achieved.

Akechi: When we’re riding in the car like this, it’s easy to forget that we’re actually inside Mona.

Akechi: The Shadows here behave differently from the ones in the Palaces, don’t they?

Akechi: I’m getting a bit hungry. I should’ve eaten beforehand.

Akechi: I enjoy spending time in Kichijoji. It’s not very big, but there are plenty of trendy shops.

Akechi: Riding in the car may beat walking, but it doesn’t stop my legs from growing stiff and sore…

-

Sumire: I have a few different superstitions for good luck in my routines… They get sort of hard to drop.

Sumire: It was already hard for me to believe Palaces existed, but to think there’s such a massive one under Shibuya…

Sumire: It’s a bit cramped in here with this many people…

Sumire: I get stiff all over from just sitting in the car.

Sumire: Why is the one desert you get to eat during the week so delicious?

Sumire: A phantom thief outfit represents a person’s image of their rebellion, right?

Sumire: I wonder if I should try incorporating another sport into my gymnastics training.

Sumire: I wonder what I could use as inspiration for my performances…

Sumire: Swords are actually pretty hard to wield.

Sumire: Whenever I travel, I always end up buying some sort of good luck charm.

Sumire: Your outfits are all so unique. I can see coordinating them wasn’t a priority.

Sumire: This time of year, a heating pad’s an absolute must for keeping warm.

Sumire: Sometimes people will just walk up to me and ask me to show them a standing split.

Sumire: I’m in top shape today! Let’s keep going.

Sumire: Do you all stretch beforehand? You could pull a muscle if you don’t.

Sumire: It’s too bad gymnastics competitions aren’t on TV more often.

Sumire: Fighting makes for a pretty good workout, doesn’t it?

-

while I didn't transcribe responses, I did notice something a bit disappointing: neither Sumire nor Akechi seemed to have responses for anyone else. It's possible I missed one?? But not being able to remember any, they must not have many if they do have some. A bit odd.

[m34gs]

😊😊😊😊 Hello!!!!!

Got a little (hopefully not too weird) question for ya:

Let's turn back the clock and human verse it. Middle ages, maybe fantasy setting (you choose) but, what trades do you think Ichigo/and or Grimmjow would work at? Blacksmithing? Mason? Farmer? Court musician? Something completely different? Would it be more fantastical? I know in the mythical au you wrote about Grimmjow being a dragon slayer--would it build off that or are you thinking of separate/different au?

What are your thoughts? I'm a sucker for this time period, or something like it anyway.

How would they meet? Does ichigo work with others or does he have a more solitary job?

How would they meet? Does Aizen play a factor in this senario at all? Who else is in this au? I hope this all makes sense lol

🧡💙🧡💙 Have a good night!!!💙🧡💙🧡

Hi there friend! This isn't a weird concept at all; I love it! Thank you so much for asking me this!!!!!!

Ok, so! I am a sucker for fantasy, so I absolutely would put them in a fantasy setting! Very much love that. As for occupations and casting...welll...

Grimmjow would be a foot-soldier. Some stupid rule says you have to be nobility to be a knight (I know it's cliché, but I'm a bit of a sucker for those kinds of rules that seem pointless, I find them very relatable to today's society) and he was born to a poor family who basically sent him off to be fodder for the enemy because it meant they would get rewarded with one less mouth to feed. He doesn't have a strong sense of 'family' or 'trust'. To him, the only one he can trust is the sword in his hand, and even then he knows better than to think it would never cut him. He ends up being ruthless and surviving because of his lack of trust in others and his will to spite the family that cast him out. Aizen is a noble of some kind, and he sees Grimmjow's potential so he takes him in, keeps him, trains him like the other knights he's collected, only Grimmjow doesn't get that title because of that stupid law. This drives a wedge between him and the knights Aizen trains and keeps (I'm thinking this is where I would cast the other arrancar).

Aizen is well-respected among the other nobles (because he lies. You know, like a liar. lol sorry I needed to throw that meme reference in there). But, anyway, for the other nobles I would cast most of the captains of the Soul Society. They have varying degrees of wealth but the fact remains they are all still nobles.

Now, for Ichigo...his family lives in woods that are allegedly haunted/cursed. (spoiler, it's just them and some windchimes and various illusions/traps they've set up over the years to keep the nobles out and protect the forest from being deforested). His mother is a witch (that's right, 'is'. Because in this AU? She's alive and well because I said so :D lol), and his father is a farmer who fell in love with her. Ichigo and his sisters inherited some of their mother's magic and she taught them how to use it.

Aizen is on a journey, bringing with him Grimmjow and a couple others for protection. On the way, they are robbed by clever thieves(Kisuke Urarhara and Yoruichi), and Grimmjow is tasked to track them down and reclaim what was stolen. He goes after them and follows them to the haunted forest, because of course they are friends with Isshin and Masaki.

This is where Grimmjow stumbles upon Ichigo. And mistakes him for one of the thieves. He attacks and Ichigo promptly kicks his ass because he has the home field advantage. Then, when the misunderstanding gets slightly cleared up, Ichigo feels guilty for wounding Grimmjow, but the boy's healing magic is absolute shite (his mother tries to teach him, she really does, but he's always been better at other kinds of magic). So he brings Grimmjow to his mother. And wouldn't you know it, Masaki is just so darn happy her son has brought home a man because LOOK ISSHIN OUR BOY HAS A FRIEND AND MAYBE EVEN A HUSBAND. And Isshin is right there with her, eagerly talking about how strong Grimmjow looks and how he can protect their boy. And Ichigo is like excuse me protect me? I kicked his ass? And then he gets a scolding because kicking asses is rude. And Grimmjow is wondering what the fuck is wrong with these people.

I think in this AU, Orihime would be a member of Unohana's household, learning how to heal, much to the dismay of her parents and older brother. (Fun fact: the first people to work as nurses in hospitals? The poor, the prostitutes, the lame, the disabled, the beggars. It was a job that was looked down upon and considered one of the lowest of the low positions. Which is why it was a big deal when noble ladies started going into the profession. People were scandalized.) Unohana is one of the less well-off nobles, but she doesn't care so much because she uses what wealth she did inherit from her family to heal others.

Chad is the blacksmith. Hands down. He is the best around. Tall, strong, silent, and he does quality work. Regardless of the fact he's not a noble, he is very well off because nobles from all around are willing to pay good money for his work.

Uryu is a scholar, studying anything he can find that's interesting. He's studying under Mayuri, though he secretly thinks the man is a freak. And Mayuri does all sorts of experiments on all sorts of people (there's no ethics board in this time, you see. Anything and everything is legal when it comes to the pursuit of knowledge, as long as you have enough money to buy off the right people).

Kenpachi is the battle-crazed lord, and the only nobility who knows of the Kurosaki's living in the forest. He was wandering around one day, bored out of his mind, when he happened across Ichigo and his sisters in the forest. Ichigo immediately goes into protective big-bro mode, and Kenpachi doesn't wanna clear up any misunderstanding if it means he can have a fight instead. He doesn't tell anyone; partially because Ichigo was the best opponent he has ever had, and partially because he doesn't care enough about the other nobles to have conversations beyond the usual 'how are you' 'I am well' exchange. Actually, you know, Kenpachi's entire household knows of the family in the woods (they like to prove their courage so many of them had ventured into the woods that were 'haunted'.) but because Kenpachi tells no one, they also tell no one.

Byakuya, in a twisted turn of events, is the only captain who is not a noble. He is a merchant. His trade? Silk. And he still carries himself with grace and looks down on others, but this time it's because he and his ancestors literally clawed their way out of the ranks of the poor by being cutthroat businessmen. He still adopts Rukia as his younger sister when he finds her, after his wife perishes. Renji is a mercenary hired to protect Rukia, and he is totally in love with Byakuya.

These are my thoughts! What do you think? Anything you would add? Do you have more ideas for other characters and the roles they could play in this au?