#idk I’m sentimental I love him more than anything

[spookykestrel]

There is not enough words in this world to express the love I feel when my little kitty friend is purring and purring and looks at me softly and bonks his head against mine bc he knows I love him and he loves me and that’s something that doesn’t need words ig

[larsnicklas]

there’s something there though in my brain that again i can’t fully articulate right now bc i’m just sad about nicklas more than usual but the. uh. ghost isn’t quite right. and neither is hole, he hasn’t left a hole. maybe what i’m thinking and feeling is the concept of White Space in graphic design. the Absence that is its own presence; that brings into relief the elements around it. it’s like, all of this exists in relation to this space it’s surrounded by. does that make any sense at all. the team is there on the ice, in the room, on the plane, and he is not, and that in itself is how he is there

[avocado-writing]

hi!! I read your fics and I love your writing style! I was wondering if you could do something with a human reader, maybe she works in a bookshop or she’s a teacher? And it’s all cute because he finds her genuine??? Maybe some angst because she finds herself in danger? Idk sorry I’m rambling I just wanted something with a human reader 🧍🏻‍♀️💐

the place where the pages meet

logan howlett x bookseller!reader

4k words, rated explicit.

cocky!logan; awkward!reader; excessive book references; threat of physical violence (quickly averted); anti-mutant language & sentiments; smut (oral - reader receiving, penetrative sex). minors dni. thank you @saradika-graphics for dividers!

The sky is heavy with the promise of rain, and you suck your breath in through your teeth. It’s fifty-fifty on days like these: either people will seek shelter in your little store, or they’ll scurry away with the fear any purchases they make will get soaked and ruined.

God damn it, what kind of fool opens an independent book shop in New York?

You’re the kind of fool, apparently. Still, it’s your home, both figuratively between all the old paperbacks and literally with your tiny apartment on the top floor. Barely more than a studio, but enough for you. A piece for yourself carved out of this world. 

Outside it starts to pour. You sigh. Well, at least you know you’ll get one visitor today.

Charles, your dear friend and long-time financial supporter of your store, had called earlier to let you know that the usual face wouldn’t be coming to grab his order. It’s a shame, you like Ororo, enjoy sitting and sharing a pot of oolong with her on quiet days. Also she could have chased away this terrible weather for you. Ah well. 

“Who can I expect?” you’d asked. 

Charles had laughed, a warm and friendly sound. 

“Ahh, you’ll know Logan when you see him.”

You don’t know what you’d do without Charles. Between orders of rare books for his personal collections and en-masse copies of classics for the kids, he pretty much keeps this place running for you. Bless that man, honestly, because you’re not sure where you’d be without him. 

The sound of someone pulling up outside has you putting down your book and turning towards the shop window. 

A pickup truck parks up by the kerbside and you watch the man in the driver’s seat emerge into the rain. He cuts a fine figure, tall and strong, but you don’t get a good look at him until he walks through the front door. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome. 

Leather jacket now pocked with raindrops, very obvious white vest beneath it showing off his broad chest. He shakes like a dog to get the moisture out of his hair as he stamps his boots on the doormat, pausing only briefly to scrutinise its no admittance expect on party business slogan. 

“Logan?” you ask. He looks up and when his eyes first meet yours? Oh, a fire is sent down your spine. 

“Yeah,” he confirms, looking around to take in the place. You can’t tell if he’s impressed or not. He has a remarkably neutral face, careful, the sort of man who doesn’t want to give anything away about himself. 

“You’re… here for Charles’ books?”

He’s sauntering over to the counter now. Cocks an eyebrow. It goes right through you. Fuck. 

“That’d be me.” There’s a beat. “Why, you think someone’d try and steal them?”

“People can steal books!” you say, defensively. 

“People named Logan who you’re clearly expecting?”

You bristle, because he’s got you. Something flickers over his face for a second: a smile. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome and he’s an asshole.

Huffing, you fish the box out from under the desk and groan with effort as you lift it up. Logan takes it from your grasp as if it weighs nothing at all. Your fingers touch as you do. You try to ignore it.

“Thanks,” he says, easily.

“Mm. Mind the rain. It’d be a shame if you slipped.”

A proper smile crosses his face then, but he turns away too quickly for you to let it sink in. The bell on the door chimes as he heads back out into the rain.

Well, you hope you never see him again.

By the same time next week, you’re really hoping you see him again.

You’ve sort of not been able to get him out of your mind. He was kinda prickly, sure, but a welcome break from the mundanity of your life, and pretty good looking to boot. It’s probably just a pipe dream. You’re sure it’ll be Ororo again, and you can go back to the easy pattern of seeing your dear friend. That’s okay. You’re fine with it. Who needs a handsome man? You have your books, you have your store, you’re happy.

Yeah. You’re happy. 

Imagine your surprise, then, when you hear a motorbike outside your shop.

You must be blessed with street parking, because Logan pulls up right outside again. Same jacket, same well-worn jeans. He catches your eye through the window and you’re sure they glisten. You pretend to be engrossed in your book but it’s not fooling anyone, the words swim into soup on the page as you see him approach.

The door goes; he approaches the counter. Closer this time, you can smell him. Tobacco and leather. Fuck it’s good.

“You should wear a helmet,” you say, trying to be flippant. Logan lets out a single, solitary note of a chuckle from deep in his chest.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for your concern, though.”

You feel your cheeks heat up and try to hide it by looking for Charles’ order again. It’s a single book, a first edition you had to go through the backwater book depositories to hunt down. You’re the best at what you do, though, so it was no real problem. It’s why he always comes to you.

“Here you go. Let him know I’ll try and find the sequel if he’s interested, too.”

“Sure.”

Once again your fingers touch as you hand the book to Logan. No. No, this is too quick! You want to keep him here for a little while longer. He looks so out of place between the wonky shelves and hanging plants, it’s just perfect.

Your mouth tries to say two things at once: can you tell Charles I’ll have his other order ready same time next week, and, do you like to read often? 

Instead what comes out is, “can you read?”

You must wince when you ask the question, because Logan stands there transfixed. Baffled, just for a second.

“Can I… read?” he repeats slowly. 

I’ve failed you, I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t stop your mouth in time, says your brain.

“I didn’t mean… of course you read… I just… I didn’t want to assume… maybe you didn’t like books… erm…”

“Yeah, I read,” he says softly, as if you are an old dog and he is putting you out of your misery. You fucking wish he would. Jesus Christ, it’s like you’ve never spoken to another person before.

You can’t find a way to recover this. Your cheeks are on fire. You’re going to explode and burn down your store. Oh authors, you are so sorry for using all these works as kindling.

You expect Logan to turn on his heel and walk out but he… doesn’t. Instead he takes a step back so that he can look at the shelf nearest to the desk. Runs his fingers across the spines before picking one. It’s slim, no more than the width of his finger; he puts it on the counter and fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

In the Miso Soup by Ryū Murakami. You ring him up, punching the price into your old cash register, give him his change. His palm is soft as you drop coins into it. 

“See you next week,” he says, stashing both his book and Charles’ inside his jacket. 

“Okay,” you say, amazed you’re able to get any words out, and watch him walk away again.

He does see you next week.

The sun’s out, so he’s sans jacket, and oh fuck you can see how his arms are like treetrunks. The way this man has you reacting is unhealthy. You try and focus on the hardback in your hands but all you can picture is those veins which are bulging on his biceps, begging you to come and get to know them better.

“You’re always reading huh?” 

His voice makes you jump a little, you’re not expecting him to be so close. You look up. He slides his sunglasses up into his hair. Fuck it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Would you trust a bookstore owner who didn’t read?” you ask, bristling with the need to defend this little shop and your place in it. He holds his hands up in the universal sign of peace.

“Not an insult, just an observation.”

You sink back from attack mode, walls still a little high, but definitely coming down.

“How did you get on with the Murakami last week?”

Logan takes a moment to consider this, trying to piece his answer together in a way which won’t offend you.

“I liked it until the last chapter.”

You sit up in your chair. 

“Yes! A lot of people say that. It feels like it ends sort of abruptly, but if you just appreciate it for what it is, it’s a good book.”

He smiles a little as you speak. You fucking love talking about books, to a degree some people find absurd. You don’t want to babble though, so you force yourself to end your observations there.

Logan nods at the book in your hands.

“What are you reading now?”

You lift up your book so he can see the cover: A. S. Byatt’s The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye. 

“It’s very good! Byatt has such a wonderful way of writing. I love fairy tales and there’s such a wonderful voice in this one. They made the titular story into a movie a couple of years back, it’s quite good actually, it has Tilda Swinton in it.” You’re floundering. Don’t stray too far from the normal lines of conversation. Mouth, for fuck’s sake stay on course, begs your brain. It doesn’t. Instead you ask, “do you… like Tilda Swinton?”

Logan raises an eyebrow and you know this is a man who has never once had to consider the question of whether or not he likes the actress Tilda Swinton. 

Mouth still talking. MOUTH STILL TALKING, your brain screams. It’s true. It is. You were too busy being horrified to notice.

What your mouth says while being unchaperoned is, “There’s a little single-screen theatre nearby doing a showing of it this week, actually, do you wanna come with?”

DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT. DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT?!

Logan doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. He seems just as shocked that you’ve asked as you are. But then, just as you want to cast yourself into the street so that a passing garbage truck might take pity on you and sweep you away, he smiles. It’s slow, but it makes him look so much hotter.

“Sure, why not.”

Oh mouth you genius. I shall never doubt you again.

“Oh, okay, great! Uhh, are you free Friday?”

“I can be. What time’s the screening?”

“Seven. Meet me here at six-thirty?”

“It’s a date.”

Fuck, it is a date, isn’t it. It’s a date!

Logan stands there, awaiting something. You’re confused for a beat, then go up on your tiptoes, aiming your mouth towards his.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture… Charles’ book, honey.”

Hmmm, okay. Still time for the earth to just swallow you whole then, actually.

You sort of don’t expect him to turn up. You wouldn’t go on a date with you, all awkward edges and uncomfortable words. And he’s… the coolest fucking guy you’ve ever seen. 

Of course he won’t turn up. Of course he won’t. 

He turns up. 

He’s waiting for you outside the store, leaning against a lamppost, dressed in flannel and smelling like subtle cologne. You can’t help lighting up when you see him and hope you’re dressed suitably - your nicest pair of dungarees and a tight-fitting jumper. 

“Hey! You made it,” you say. 

“‘Course I did,” he replies with a little smile. Oh, you’re giddy. 

“C’mon, it’s not a long walk. It’s a nice night too.”

He lets you chatter as the two of you make the brief journey, content to have you talk his ear off about business and books. He’s happy to answer any questions you ask him about himself: what he does for a living, how he knows Charles, if he’s got anything else on his to-read list. The two of you skirt around the most obvious thing: if he lives at the mansion, he’s definitely a mutant. You can’t quite get the courage to ask him about it. Seems easier to just let it lie, so you do. It’s not that important anyway, you think, you like Logan, with or without any extra bits. 

When you arrive at the little hole-in-the-wall cinema, he gets the tickets and the popcorn and the drinks. You do your best not to feel absolutely pathetic by his side. Surely everyone here knows you’re punching above your weight with this absolute grade A specimen of a man? You’re so busy looking around the foyer to make sure nobody is staring that you almost don’t realise when he takes your hand in his.

“You with me, honey?” he asks, soft, low. You swallow thickly and nod because for once, you can’t find the words.

It’s not a very full screening, which is just fine, because you’re happy to be alone with Logan in the dark. You share a bucket of popcorn and a secret little thrill runs up your spine every time your fingers brush together. When that’s finished, he puts his arm around the back of your chair and you snuggle up against his side, cursing the damn plastic cupholder in the middle forcing you to keep a distance. 

One hundred and eight minutes. They’re not enough. You want to be here forever. But eventually the credits roll, the lights come up, and Logan has to pull his arm back; you hope the reluctance in the withdrawal of the gesture isn’t just your imagination. 

“What did you think?” you ask, standing up and stretching. Logan follows suit, mulling over the question. 

“It was… cute,” he decides. “I can see why you like it.” 

You beam. 

“I can lend you the book if you want. It goes into way more detail about the main character’s life at the start, it’s very stream-of-consciousness but I really enjoy it? It’s different to the other stories before it but definitely worth reading. I think that…”

You’re outside now, under the streetlights, fingers tangled easily with his, and when he stills you’re pulled to a stop too. 

“Hmm?”

He drops his grip on your hand so that he can put one under your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you. Your heart beats violently. He can definitely feel it. He knows. You don’t care. Fuck, he’s so near. 

“You talk a lot, huh?” he asks. It’s not unkind, the smile on his face is one of fondness, and all of your skeleton turns to jelly as you fucking melt under the affection in his gaze. 

“Please shut me up,” your beg comes out as a whisper, and he does. 

His lips are rough against yours, guiding, but sweet. The hair on his face tickles your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down to kiss him with more enthusiasm. This is not a public-appropriate display of affection, and someone honks their car horn at you both, but it just serves to make you laugh against his mouth and keep going. His hands slide onto your hips and hold you tight against him. Possessive. Wanting. Covetous. 

“You know,” he says when he pulls back for air, still running his lips along the line of your jaw to the hinge beneath your ear, “when Charles told me I should go and get those books, he said I’d like the person who runs the store. Didn’t expect you to be such a gorgeous little thing, though.”

You, gorgeous! Logan thinks you’re gorgeous! You could do a fucking cartwheel in celebration. You don’t though, you’d probably give yourself a concussion. 

His hand goes to his pocket and his brow furrows and, for a second, you panic. Has he started regretting kissing you already? Another quick kiss calms that down though, settling the simmer of worry in your stomach. 

“I think I left my wallet in the theatre. Hold on, I’ll grab it, then I’ll walk you home?”

“Only if you come in with me,” you breathe, and once again your mouth has taken the reins on that one. Logan huffs a laugh, a little incredulous, but mostly pleased at your gumption. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay.”

He leaves you standing there, feeling all tingly. This is happening. It’s fucking happening! Sometimes the stars align for a book nerd and a handsome guy wants to come up to their studio apartment. You thank Jesus, Buddha, Arthur C. Clarke - whoever is listening, they fucking deserve it. 

“You gonna fuck that mutant?”

The voice sends a chill down your throat. 

The trio of guys standing behind you do not look friendly. The biggest one, the one standing in the middle, sneers at your panic, crossing thick arms over a broad chest.

“Well? I asked you a question.”

You screw your courage to the sticking place, puffing up a little. 

“Don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you spit back, hoping that vitriol will deter them. It does not. Instead, they close in, hyenas around a cadaver. 

“Never had a human dick you down good enough, huh? Need a little help? C’mon baby, we’ll show you.”

He reaches out to grab your arm. You let out a noise of panic. 

At the same time, Logan’s fist collides with his face. 

The guy is sent stumbling back, spitting out a globule of blood. His friends step away with panic in their eyes. Logan moves in front of you, his bulk your shield, three metal claws extending from between his knuckles. 

Yeah. Mutant, huh?

“I think you were just leaving, pal,” says Logan in a voice which doesn’t bear messing with. The man bares his reddened teeth. 

“The fuck do you think you are, mutant scum--?!”

He lunges for Logan and the breath is sucked from your lungs when you see he’s pulling out a fucking knife, but another punch sends him flat on his ass. The blade clatters across the street and into the gutter. His friends grab either one of his arms and half stand him up, half drag him away.

“Shit, it’s not worth it—!” is their conclusion as they disappear into the night, shouting back expletives, blood trailing from their leader. Logan shakes out his fist, flexes his fingers; claws retract. He turns to you, slowly. 

“You okay?” he asks, hurriedly checking you over. You nod. 

“Y…yeah. Shaken.” you confess. 

“C'mon. Let’s get you home,” he sighs, and from the cadence of his voice you can tell he’s worried the night has been ruined. You place your hand on his bicep. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you still… will you still come up?”

He softens. 

“If it’ll make you feel safer, sweetheart.”

It does. 

And that’s how you find him sitting on your well-loved couch in between your needlepoint pillows, looking around your tiny home as you make a pot of coffee to share. 

“Jesus, you’ve got more books in here than in the store,” he mutters. 

“Well, some of them I couldn’t part with. I like them too much. And, as you pointed out, I am always reading.”

You look around at the shelves stuffed into your flat, the dozens of them holding hundreds of novels, plays, poems. You love them all dearly. They all hold a special piece of your heart, you can remember where you were when you read most of them. (Downstairs while manning the desk is often the answer). 

“Oh, even this?”

You can hear the smile in Logan’s voice. He’s holding up a copy of Fifty Shades. You scoff, rolling your eyes. 

“Christ, I read that as a professional courtesy to the art of bookselling. Got it for fifty cents at a thrift store. It’s crap. If you want some good erotica I can recommend…”

The sentence lingers unfinished. Logan raises his eyebrows. 

“You can recommend what, huh?”

The coffee is ready. You can smell its rich scent enveloping your little apartment. An idea forms. Creates a heavy anticipation on your tongue. Your brain screams at you. 

Locked. Loaded. Fire, mouth, fire!

“… then I’d recommend you take me to bed,” you say.

Logan stares, eyes wide. You’ve had an immediate effect on him. His pupils dilate. 

“I… honey, after earlier, I’m not sure if you should…”

You cross the room and sit on his lap, an easy feat when his legs are so thick and inviting. His sentence stops as you press your mouth to the pulse in his neck. Kiss. 

“I’m a consenting adult,” a kiss on his cheek, “who’s invited you into their home,” a kiss on his brow, “and is asking you to take them across their painfully tiny apartment and fuck them. If you don’t want to, that’s okay, but Logan? I’ve been game ever since you first walked in from the rain.”

He looks up at you to double check that you’re telling the truth, then kisses you with such ferocity that you squeak. 

You do not make it to the bed. 

He undresses you there on the sofa in the middle of your bookshelves, between Brontë and Austen, beside Carter and Rushdie. Your clothes end up in a messy little pile on the coffee table. It gets kicked and the pile of literary magazines slide to the floor as Logan moves to take off his shoes, letting you drag his jeans down and off of him, cupping his cock in his boxers.

Fuck. Thick, heavy, large, you want all of it. All of him. 

He leans you back against your kitschy little pillows with book quotes on them and pulls your dungarees off, an act both ridiculous and endearing. He catches your knee in his hand and begins to kiss up your thigh towards your underwear.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he presses a kiss to your sex over the fabric. He grins up at you from between your legs. 

“That was the plan.”

He fucks you with his mouth like a man starved, luxuriating in the little sounds you make for him, pressing fingers inside you without any effort at all. You cum all over his knuckles embarrassingly quickly. He looks sorta smug. 

“Baby, when was the last time someone took care of you…?” he asks, licking a stripe along your sex to taste what he’s done. You huff. 

“Too long. You gonna fix that?”

It’s a challenge and he takes it as one. You strip off his shirt, making sure to get a good feel of his muscles as you go, kissing his pectorals and abs just because you can. He slides inside you with one thrust, one of your legs in a crook at his hip; the other with its ankle resting on his shoulder. He starts moving and the couch shakes but all you can do is cling on for dear life to the crocheted blanket. 

“Holy shit… so fuckin’ tight… aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing…” he hisses. You reach up enough to tangle your fingers in his hair and drag him down for a kiss, sloppy and charged with heat. His hand moves in between your legs and you cum for the second time that night, hissing with satisfaction as he spills inside you. 

You collapse onto the sofa together, your heavy breaths harmonising. When he pulls back to kiss you this time it’s softer. With intention. With reference. 

“Uh, you know, they’re showing To Kill a Mockingbird next week. Maybe dinner beforehand, if you’re interested?”

He laughs affectionately and you can feel the rumble in his chest.

“Sounds good. You’ll have to lend me the book first.”

Fuck yeah. You’re never doubting your mouth again. 

Taglist: @falsewordz@malfoys-demigod@belilwen@mildly-salted@tvwebs@childeslegstrap@getmeoutofhell@s1eep-o@just-a-beatlemaniac69@yrthr@momopad@sugarplumz100@captainjinkx@madspads@acrosstheunivcrse@yeethaw13@na-is-salty@florduarte@hunterispunk@starfleetteddybear

[star-girl69]

Your Girl

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: late at night, you and clarisse get to know one another.

a/n: ykw i dont even know what i write anymore just enjoy it i truly just listen to the wind oh my god

Your Girl - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: im sorry im obsessed w the nightmare trope, friends to lovers MEYOW, HURT COMFORT, clarisse just wants to KISS, light tension, very light and fluffy tho…. not a lot of angst tbh, POSSESSIVE CLARISSE I SCREAMED, mutual pining YESSSSS, they’re in love but they don’t think the other could be in love w them, clarisse knows what she wants and sets out to get it, monsters- again it’s a drakon bc i’m evil, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of weapons, weed and smoking, substance abuse idk if it’s addiction my health teacher would be so disappointed, shotgunning weed, idk what’s happening honestly we’re all along for the ride, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You don’t know where Clarisse gets it from, but she has good weed.

They’re these perfectly little rolled blunts, with some sort of amazing concoction inside- you can’t even be bothered to care that it’s bad for you. Not when it makes you feel so good, not when it makes everything else fade away.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Sitting in the woods, leaning against a rock covered in moss, staring up at the stars. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you’re just here next to each other. But tonight, you think you took one too many hits, so you’re feeling a little sentimental.

“I would fucking die without you, Clarisse.”

She snorts. “Yeah, probably.”

“No, no, not just like- because you’re so strong, and stuff, but because of this fucking weed. I can’t sleep without it, y’know.”

She hums.

“And, like, you need sleep to live, or else your brain will like eat itself, or something ridiculous. Did you know that?”

She looks at you, mouth curved into an unimpressed smile, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t, and I care so much. Thanks for telling me, leech.”

“That’s mean,” you huff.

“Then stop leeching off of me and stealing my weed.”

Clarisse always looks so pretty in the moonlight. You would never admit that to anyone, but in the dark when your head is all hazy- you know she’s pretty. She’s beautiful, if you’re being honest, but she’s also your dealer- you can’t risk upsetting her. But still, sometimes you’re not sure how she isn’t a daughter of Aphrodite.

But you know better than anyone else that she gets everything from Ares, like she’s a carbon copy of him.

She gets her precision, her strength, her tactical mind, her rolling storm of emotions from him.

Except, there’s a softness in her. Only here, in the moonlight. You don’t know if it’s you or the weed, but you like to think it’s you. You like to think that Clarisse likes you as much as you like her, not just tolerates you for your mediocre company.

She’s sitting with one foot planted onto the ground, hair pulled back all messy, her arm balancing on her knee. The joint is held out conveniently towards you, lazily in between her fingers, so you flip yourself onto your stomach and reach out with open lips.

She smiles and flips the joint around, placing it onto your lips. Your close your eyes and your mouth, breathing in deeply. Gods, does it taste horrible, but you love it too much.

You pull back and breathe out the smoke.

“You love me, and my weed-stealing tendencies.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” she rolls her eyes.

—-

Clarisse probably trains more than any other demigod at camp. Thirty minutes after dinner, like clockwork, you can find her heading to the field where all the sparring dummies live.

Clarisse is probably your only true friend at camp. You stick to yourself for the most part, hang out with your siblings, but besides for that it’s Clarisse. And she’s the same way. She hangs out with her siblings, and then you. Of course- everyone at Camp knows her name and her ruthless reputation.

You’re unknown, she’s known. She’s the best fighter you’ve ever seen, you’re mediocre, compared to her. She helps you at every turn, you’re the one getting helped by her. She’s mean to everyone, and you’re kind to whoever happens upon you.

You force each other to bring out the other sides of yourself no one gets to see. Clarisse gets to be soft, you get to be loud and annoying. You’re friends, but you both get something out of it.

She’s your friend, your dealer, your savior.

If the first day you came to camp, running through the woods with a drakon hot on your heels and your mouth split open into a scream- maybe Clarisse and her siblings wouldn’t have turned around and noticed the drakon.

Of course, Clarisse was the one who actually killed it, and she was the one who hoisted you up from where you had collapsed, breathing heavily. She was the one who actually made sure you weren’t hurt while your satyr protector panicked about having to face the Cloven Council.

She was the one who found you in the middle of the night, that drakon hissing in your ear, she was the one who gave you the claw she had pried from it’s dead body, she was the one who told you it was dead and nothing could hurt you in Camp.

“Clarisse!” you call, running towards her. Most campers like to wind down after dinner, so the field is empty.

“Leech,” she says when you reach her, leaning her spear against a dummy and stretching her arms above her head.

You always come everyday. You ask her the same question.

“Do you have it?”

She digs under her armor, pulling out the small cloth containing the blunt. “You would probably go insane if I didn’t.”

You feel calmer just looking at it. You smile sheepishly up at her.

“You know I can’t sleep without it, Clarisse.”

She looks away, stuffing it back under her armor, against her stomach.

“Maybe you should try and skip one night.”

You scoff. “I don’t feel like pulling an all-nighter, Clarisse.”

She nods, but her face is riddled with concern. “Okay, angel,” she mutters, so low you can barely hear it. But you do. You hear her call you angel, and you turn away instead of slamming your lips into hers.

—-

After that first night, you slept with that claw tight into your hand. And it was fine. You still had the occasional nightmare, but every demigod had those. But the older you got, the more monsters you learned about, the more comfortable you got with being a demigod- the more the nightmares came. Knowing the drakon was dead didn’t help, and the nightmares got worse and worse until Clarisse found you again one night.

You had drifted apart from her. She had her life and you had hers, but ever since you’ve been bonded by the nights.

She wrapped her arms around you and let you cry, mumbling about how she was the strongest demigod at camp, and there was the barrier, and nothing would ever get through to you.

She was soft in that moment. And you could tell she regretted it, because she ignored you for the next few days until one of her siblings pushed you to the ground. She appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his shirt, yelling that if he ever touched you again, she’d fucking kill him.

While he sputtered and asked why she cared about some stupid weak girl, she helped you up and said: “She’s my girl.”

And since that day 3 months ago, you’ve always been her girl. Neither of you really knew what that meant, except you liked being around each other and you liked this transaction. Clarisse liked owning something. You liked belonging to someone.

That’s what this entire friendship is about- convenience.

So, that’s why Clarisse being concerned about you makes you feel weird. You care about Clarisse, she cares about you- but only enough that she doesn’t want to see you hurt by someone else. But who is she to stop you when you’re the one hurting yourself?

You arrive at the rock in the forest, fingers twisting together. Clarisse is already there, lighter and blunt set out on the ground, polishing her spear.

“Hey,” she says, looking down.

“Hi.”

You sit down, eager to get your hands on the weed and forget about the way Clarisse’s concern confuses you.

You stare at your shaking hand.

Gods, are you really that nervous?

Clarisse’s eyes are sharp, she notices everything, she processes it much faster than you can ever dream to. It’s why she’s so quick in battle. She’s a well oiled machine and you’re the one job she’s assigned to do- she knows you by heart after all these nights.

Her spear is pushed off her lap. “Why are you shaking?” she says, voice low and raspy, her hand cupping yours.

“Low blood sugar,” you lie. “I’ll grab a snack before I go to bed.”

She says nothing, but you watch her hesitate as she grabs the blunt and the lighter from the ground, you watch her hesitate again as she goes to light it. But she lights it, she sticks it in between her fingers and holds it out to you.

“C’mere,” she mutters, and you lean forward and let her place the blunt on your parted lips. You breathe in, only for a few seconds, and you could go for a lot longer.

“I wasn’t done,” you huff as she takes her own drag.

“My weed,” she shrugs. “I decide how much you get.”

“You’re a bitch.”

She laughs. She laughs and it makes your stomach twist in such a good way you can’t feel like this anymore, you can’t remember what she does to you, what she called you.

You reach out blindly for the blunt, biting your lip as you practically climb on top of her.

“Clarisse!” you yell, but she seems to find your desperation hilarious, holding the blunt out as far as she can. “I fucking hate you, oh my Gods.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she says, pushing you off of her. You realize you’re laying on your stomach in between her legs, one hand planted to the ground around her leg, the other reaching out.

She leans back and takes another drag. You roll your eyes and move to attack her, but she’s too fast, sitting up and holding your hand down, her other hand grabbing your chin. She breathes out the smoke right into your lips that are parted in shock, smiling as you stare right into her amused eyes.

She leans back while you sit there stupidly on top of her, blowing out the smoke. “That- that’s- I hate you, did I mention that?”

“You did,” she muses. “But we both know you’re lying.”

You look at her, at her wide smile, at the look in her eyes. You want nothing more than to be her girl- her girl in the way that she’ll kiss your head, tell you about all the things you’ll never do, she’ll lay down with you in a bed of soft pillows. Her girl in the way the reason she’s soft in the moonlight isn’t the weed, it’s because of you. Her girl in the way you can run to her, the way you do now, but with the added connotation of love.

You grab the joint, and she lets you, watching intently as you breathe in and blow out the smoke. She has no right to be worried over you. Not when you’re the one making the choice to waste away your youth. And especially when you’re not her girl- not in the way you want to be.

—-

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” she hums.

You sit back against the rock. Normally, you would have been here 20 minutes ago.

You didn’t catch her after dinner, and you stayed firmly in your bed until it all got to be too much. You’re terrified of sleeping, of the nightmares that will come- but for some reason, the weed just puts you at such ease that you don’t have any nightmares.

You didn’t want to be near Clarisse tonight. Not after yesterday, not after the way she’s been making you feel, and the fact that you know she could never really like you. Why would she? You are the stupid weak girl who gets pushed over. You run from drakon’s and can’t even sleep because of nightmares.

Clarisse is fiercely protective of those she loves, but you’re too much work.

You wanted to go one night. One night without the weed, and prove to her and yourself that you don’t need it. You’re not that weak.

But you couldn’t.

You sit down, she looks at your tense shoulders and doesn’t tease you, just hands you the blunt. You mumble something of a thank you, looking up at the stars, shoulders relaxing after a few more breaths.

“I, uh, I tried to skip. Tonight, I mean. I tried not to come.” It’s embarrassing to admit this. You’re so scared of the nightmares that even if it’s a placebo effect, you come back to this clearing every night.

“But you couldn’t?” she asks.

“I couldn’t,” you affirm, staring at the ground.

“Well, you can’t just go cold turkey, dummy. You have to wean yourself off of it. Do you not remember, like, any of those nicotine patch ads?” she laughs. “You’ve got a good memory, you remember.”

“Shut up, meanie,” you mumble, raising the joint to your lips. She stops you.

“Ah-ah. Starts now. Make it a good one, ‘cause that’s your last, baby.”

“Fine,” you mumble, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You breathe in for a long time, tempted to go a little longer, but Clarisse reaches over and pinches your cheek. “Okay!” you yell, throwing the joint back to her.

She laughs and raises it to her own lips, taking in another long drag before putting it out.

You look at her, silent question in the air. She shrugs.

“Been meaning to slow down for a while, why not do it together?”

“Yeah,” you hum, looking back towards the stars. “Oh, hey, Ares is out tonight.” She looks over.

“Yeah,” she muses. “Fuckin’ Ares.”

“It’s still beautiful,” you say, stars in your eyes. “You have to think about it the way mortals do. They don’t know the Gods put them up there- they think it’s just some random spotting of stars, they think they made patterns out of it. Isn’t that beautiful? To make patterns and people out of stars? To look for humanity where there is none?”

“I never thought about it like that,” Clarisse says.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” you ask. You can feel her eyes on you.

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Beautiful.”

—-

The next two weeks goes by the same. You don’t catch Clarisse after dinner, but you come every night, you smoke a little less, she teases you and gets closer to you. She gets bolder and bolder and you get shyer and shyer.

You still feel like too much. If she just lets you prove this to her and to yourself, the maybe you can lean against the rock with her and flirt back.

—-

You meet Clarisse by the rock. She’s still standing, waiting for you. She takes the last of the blunt you’ve been using for the last few days and lights it, taking one small drag before she flips it around and holds it out to you.

“C’mon,” she guides. “Not too much, I’ll stop you.”

You feel kind of like a baby as Clarisse puts the joint on her lips, fingertips against your face to steady her hand. You breathe in for just a second, tempted for more, but she takes it away. You look up at her, fingers twisted together.

“Clarisse, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

She leaves the blunt to blow out in the wind in the natural dip of the rock, your own little ashtray at the top. Of course, Clarisse will come and collect it the next morning- you don’t want to upset the nymphs and satyrs in the forest.

“It’s a good idea,” she affirms. “Don’t worry, okay?”

You’re scared. You remember being chased by the drakon even now, you remember it’s snarls, you remember it’s claws moving through the air. You remember your heart pumping in your ears, you remember the stones in your stomach that were supposed to be fear.

You feel like Kronos, but what you swallowed wouldn’t just sit idly inside of you- no, your fear would rip through your stomach and your skin and burst out of you in an explosion of blood, like some sick joke of a firework.

She grabs your wrists. Clarisse is soft, here, in the moonlight.

“Hey, it’s okay. I-I was thinking, I didn’t know if you were gonna be okay, but why don’t you sleep in my cabin?”

You shift on your feet. “Clar, no, I can’t ask you to do that. What if we get caught? And I-I- it’s embarrassing, what if your siblings see? What if they tell everyone?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes and tugs you closer from where you had subconsciously started to drift away.

“They already think we’re dating, anyways. Besides, Y/N, no one cares. Most of my siblings have secrets anyways,” she smiles.

“Wh- we’re dating? They think- why?”

Her face is deadpan. “‘Cause you’re my girl.”

You pull back. “Clarisse.”

“What?” she says, slightly incredulous. “You are. You’re about the only person I can tolerate at this camp. I hope you know that. I know I can be horrible, but really, I… care about you a lot.”

You look in her eyes. There’s no lies, no insincerity.

“I know, Clarisse. And I… I appreciate it so much. You’re, like, my only friend,” you smile.

She smiles back but it’s tight. “Friend, yeah.”

You put your arms around her neck and hug her. It’s the first time you’ve ever really hugged her, and her arms wrap tight around your waist. Her mouth presses against your hair. You let yourself be her girl in this moment.

Clarisse is your best friend. She cares about you. Of course she helps you with this. She’s your best friend. Of course you let her.

—-

You do follow Clarisse back to the Ares cabin, back to her bed- and she points to one of her siblings you can’t see in the dark, but there are two figures in the bed. She smiles and you stifle a laugh.

You know better than anyone else that big bad Ares kids are like a marshmallow on the inside. They act all tough, and they are pretty tough, but there’s a soft spot inside of them only unlocked by one person with the right key.

You notice her sibling has their arm around the other person. You wonder if Clarisse will wrap her arm around you like that too.

Clarisse climbs into her bed, opening the covers for you. The beds at Camp are twin sized, but you can fit two people on them if you’re close together. You don’t hesitate, not anymore, not when you have one chance to pretend you’re really hers.

You lay on your side, facing her, hands tucked up by your chest. Her eyes meet yours, she brushes her curls out of her face.

“Good?” she asks. You nod, breathing out.

“‘M fine,” you say.

She rubs your arm, cold from the dark night. “Just relax, okay? Just close your eyes, Y/N.”

You do, you close your eyes, but you’re so fucking terrified you can’t.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, a plead. For what, you don’t know. You want a million things from her in this moment. It’s not fair of you to ask her, you know this, but it doesn’t stop you from asking.

Your breath comes fast, your nails dig into your palms, but you keep your eyes screwed shut like sleep will just magically hit you like a train.

“It’s okay,” Clarisse says, firm. “Why are you so scared?” she whispers.

“They’re so real,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“They’re not.”

She wraps her arms around you so tight you feel like she’s crushing you. But it keeps you in the moment. If you focus on the way her skin feels against yours, on the way her thumb brushes your shoulder blade, her fingertips scratching the back of your scalp.

If you focus, if you imagine all the thing you and her will never do, if you imagine being her girl, then you can fall asleep.

You dream of her lips pressing against your head, her voice in your ear, calling you her angel.

—-

You wake up, Clarisse still wrapped around you, and slowly detangle yourself. Drool pools at the corner of her lips, and you have to bite back a giggle as you slip out of the blankets and into the warm riding sun.

She looks just as pretty in the sunlight as she does in the moonlight. You feel like a lover slipping out of a bed of secrets. But you’re not. You’re just a friend slipping out of a bed of rumors.

She looks so peaceful, you can’t help but wonder if she always sleeps like this- or if having you next to her had the same effect on her sleep as it did to yours.

—-

There’s a loud knock at your cabin door.

There’s only you and a few of your siblings in here, putting the final touches on their outfits for the day, grabbing the last items they need. One of your younger siblings open the door, and you look around the pillars- maybe it’s a counselor doing some sort of inspection? You take a glance around your bunk- but it’s all clean.

Your eyes meet hers.

“Out,” she says, roughly. She looks at you so intently you almost wonder if she’s talking to you. But when you siblings stand there in shock, she looks away. “Well? I said get out, dummies.”

They exchange looks with you, but eventually shuffle out, not wanting to risk Clarisse and her wrath.

She shuts the door behind your last sibling.

“Being tough has it perks, huh?” she smiles, leaning against the door. Your shirt isn’t even pulled on properly, one of your bra straps is already falling down your shoulder from the act of putting your shirt on, and you’re staring at her with your mouth wide open.

She looks you up and down.

“C-Clarisse, what-?”

She walks over to you, frown etched onto her face.

“I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Oh,” you say. “I… I thought you would have wanted me gone-”

“Don’t care. If you’re going to sleep with me then you need to wake me up and tell me you’re leaving.”

She rolls her eyes at your confusion. She sits on your bed and then gestures animatedly for you to sit down.

“Did you not sleep well?” she fusses. “What’s up with you this morning?”

“I slept great, Clarisse, it’s just- why are you here?”

“To tell you that you can’t leave,” she deadpans. “I mean, you spend all night shaking in my arms, terrified, and then I wake up and you’re not there? I almost killed someone. You’re lucky I decided to check here first, Y/N.”

She laughs. She laughs like it’s so funny.

“Why?” you ask.

“‘Cause you’re my girl,” she shrugs. “And-”

“Clarisse, what does that mean?”

You know what you want. And you’re not dumb, but you’re the only friend Clarisse really has- what did you have to compare it to? You’ve been thinking about it in your head, rolling it around like a diamond- each side reflects something you want from her. Her love, her protection, her touch, her time, her.

She plays with her fingers. “It means… I like touching you. I like protecting you. I like being near you. I like your voice and your face.”

She stares at you blankly, like she’s recounting a grocery list, waiting for an affirmative “yes, I heard you.” But all you can do is stare in shock, trying to make your brain catch up with your heart- Clarisse likes your face. Clarisse feels the same way you do. You can be her girl, and you’re not too much for her, you’re not just friends.

“Oh, fuck it,” she mumbles. She places her hand on your face and pecks your lips. “That’s what it means, okay? I’m, like, embarrassingly in love with you, if you haven’t noticed.”

Clarisse is so blunt and forward it makes your head spin.

She stares into your eyes, searching them for something other than shock and confusion.

“Okay,” she says. Shuffling back. You can tell she’s hurt and embarrassed, but her face reveals nothing other than faux confidence and indifference. “I’ll go, I guess-”

“Bitch,” you mumble, slamming your lips onto hers.

It feels so overwhelmingly right and fills you with such a calmness that weed could never compare to. If you were dependent on the joints, then one taste and you’re addicted to Clarisse. She kisses you back with just as much ferocity, throwing your arms around her neck, trying to swallow you whole with her mouth as she grabs your neck with one hand, your face with the other.

It’s months of tension and wanting, lips touching through the passing of a joint, all of it coming down to this moment that feels so bad, so sinful- surely the Gods must frown upon loving someone this much. You would never pray to any of them again if it meant Clarisse would keep kissing you like this.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both smiling wide, leaning into her palm, hands playing with the curls at the base of her neck. You feel like a giddy school girl. You feel like a lover discovering something wildly new and unknown, promising to keep it secret, sealing it with a kiss of pure fire.

“That was such a mean way to confess to someone,” you say. “Just bitchy. Brass and blunt- harsh, even.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pressing her face against yours.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I know you’re a big softie who drools in her sleep.” She pulls away and glares at you.

“I don’t fucking drool, Y/N. You’re seeing things.”

You fake frown, bringing her closer to you. “Such a horrible thing to say to your girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend?” she breathes, swollen lips parting like she’s aching to kiss you again.

“Your girlfriend,” you affirm, staring straight into her eyes.

You sunk more into becoming a demigod and all it got you was nightmares and a fear of sleeping. But the more you sunk into being her girl, the more you sunk into loving her and being loved.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from. Certainly not from her father. She didn’t learn to kiss your head from him. She didn’t learn how to hold you, how to call you hers, how to whisper in your ear from Ares.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from, but it’s good.

—-

SHOUTOUT TO clarisse “cause you’re my girl” la rue LOVE YOUR POSSESSIVE ASS!!!!!!!!

—-

clarisse when y/n smokes weed: oh so pretty……

clarisse when y/n can only fall asleep bc of her arms or her weed: my girl fr……..

clarisse when y/n: oh my wonderful perfect angel

—-

y/n: BITCH

clarisse: YOURE SO HOT FUCK

—-

where did clarisse get her weed from you may ask? me that’s where she got it from i ripped through the fabric of reality to give it to her to make this happen actually and you’re welcome

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

@sincerely-silk

[problemchildtm]

Demolition

Derek Morgan x bau!reader

Angst/fluff~ 1.9k words

Warnings: Attachment issues, mentions of childhood trauma, bullying, self deprecating thoughts, suffering in silence (none specific), barely proofread, as always lmk if there’s more

A/n: My attempt at @reiderwriter ‘s 5K challenge. I started with one idea in mind then it kinda spiraled so this is the result. I’m still learning about writing so bear with me. This was so fun and congrats on 5K!!!!

Prompts: Grumpy x sunshine, Oh. OH, idiots in love maybe idk???

“She didn’t understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggled grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never truly lived.”

Offputting, standoffish, rude: all words used to describe your demeanor and/or personality. A combination of these and more have run through your head for so long they’ve become a backtrack to your innermost thoughts. Though these were common sentiments thrown in your direction, you had little confidence in them. The words were hurled by people who would never truly know you nor make it past the walls you’ve so carefully created. No one has succeeded or even tried to climb the barriers until Derek Morgan. You’ve been with the Bau for a little over two years and while the majority of the team learned to accept your cold demeanor, Derek continues his attempt to coax you out of your shell. It’s not like you’re hostile, you just don’t go out of your way to be nice. Rather than converse and joke with the team you sit by yourself in silence. You speak when spoken to and refuse to drag out conversations or engage in small talk. The behavior was disheartening but necessary for your survival. Each action had an intention and they all boiled down to being averse to attachments. Small talk led to hangouts, hangouts led to friendships, friendships led to attachments, and attachments always led to heartbreak. Never once has an attachment left you feeling fulfilled. You’d been a witness to this fact a plethora of times and were determined to prevent the effects happening to you. It took some time but almost everyone eventually gave up their missions to get to know you. Almost everyone.

Derek Morgan was sickengly sweet to you. Every morning he insisted on making your first cup of coffee and every morning a note was left on that cup. Affirmations like “Good things are coming your way” or “You are a priority.” Honestly, it sounded straight out of a fortune cookie. It was dorky and inefficient yet you found yourself keeping every note. Not because you enjoyed them or found comfort in them or anything it would just be rude to throw it away. Right? Right. And it didn’t end with the notes. He’d personally drop off the note-adorned coffee and try to strike up a conversation. You’d always give a polite thank you and that was it. Well, there was one time you actually engaged with him and you swore he never smiled that hard before. Both the smile and conversation seemed to last the whole day and the ones following. His incessant need to speak and be around you should’ve annoyed you to no end but it almost made you open up. Almost. The second you felt the reins attached to your defense mechanisms loosen you immediately tightened them. They were there for a reason and somehow Derek Morgan made you want to loosen them. Under no circumstances would you give in. So, for the foreseeable future, you’d suffer in silence and suppress the urge to be unconditionally yourself in his presence.

You persisted in rejecting Derek’s attempts to get closer to you and it hurt. Why did it hurt? Unfortunately Fortunately, the upcoming case gave you no time to think about that one. Walking into the conference room, you never expected the image on the screen. It was a map of a familiar area, aka your hometown. Clearly, hiding a rare emotion in a room of profilers was futile because every single one of them asked if you were okay- even Garcia. Frozen in shock you could only muster up “hometown.” The answer seemed to appease them but you could sense the pity floating around the room. Derek gently grabbed your hand and led you to the seat beside him, grounding you. The gesture was followed by the signature Derek Morgan smile that was reserved for you. In return, you offered a small smile back and got into the case. His lingering eyes and overall concern went unnoticed by the object of his affections but caught the eye of every other person in that room. Thankfully the case was as straightforward as serial killers can be. It appeared to be cut-and-dry but everyone knew not to assume. Hypotheses and ideas were thrown back and forth between team members but you could only focus on the possibilities plaguing your mind. Taking notice of your unnaturally frightened air Derek carefully approached. “Wanna tell me what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?” Truthfully you didn’t know how to respond. What wasn’t going through your head more like? Understanding you couldn’t keep everything to yourself for the good of the case you started small. “A lot. I haven’t been there since I was sixteen and I wasn’t exactly well-liked.” Hanging on to your every word Derek continued, “Why not?” This time you didn’t respond, just kept staring out of the window. He was getting too close. You were getting too close. That wasn’t enough for him but he wouldn’t dare invade your boundaries; he cared too much to sacrifice the little progress he’s made. Before slipping on his headphones he remarked, “You don’t have to tell me but at least know I’m here and judgment-free.” This was going to be a long case.

The first few days were spent compiling evidence and chasing bodies as the case wasn’t as simple as previously thought. Each minute spent there was pulling at you. It felt like your body was constantly on fire, the only thing cooling you off being scribbles on a paper cup. The messages were less generic and more heartfelt. Unlike other mornings Derek backed off, giving you space to process your thoughts and notes. You missed the near-constant chatter and focused all your energy on the case, hoping it would return once on to the next. After a while, you had a lead. With Reid’s help the geographical profile was done and right in the center was a park you frequented as a kid. Maybe less than a park and more like a grass field surrounded by office buildings but tomato tomato. Hotch assigned you and Morgan to check it out so that’s what you went off to do. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. He looked over and smiled. “You gonna tell me the significance of this patch of grass or do I have to profile it out of you?” Rolling your eyes you relented. There was no point in dragging it. “I grew up poor and the local park charged entry. Every poor kid in the area would come here.” The look of shock on his face wasn’t missed despite his efforts to conceal it. “I’ve never heard of a park charging kids to play is that even legal?” “Unfortunately for you, I am not Reid and cannot give you an answer.” you chuckled. That was the first time he heard you laugh in any capacity and he was so determined to hear it again. “You should laugh more, it’s adorable.” Adorable? You’ve been called a lot of names in your life: by your parents, peers, teachers, superiors, you name it. Adorable has never been one of them. You spent a couple of seconds analyzing him. “You think I’m adorable?” At the end of your sentence, that smile reappeared. “Incredibly. Especially when you try not to smile at my jokes.” He said playfully. Dumbfounded, the only retort you had was honesty. “I don’t smile much anymore. I want to but I can’t.” “Why not?” As much as you wanted the conversation to continue, you couldn’t help but notice how different your childhood hotspot looked. While his eyes were still on you you jumped out of the SUV and took in your surroundings. It smelt different. Years ago it smelt like wonder. As hopeless as it sounds the area smelt like wonder. It felt like an entirely different reality. One you could escape to when things at home and school were bad and that was often if not continuously. It no longer felt like that. It felt cold, bare even. The childlike wonder was gone, the hope was gone, your escape was gone. Suddenly your eyes began to well with tears and the floodgates opened. "You didn't understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, you were nothing but a child who had never lived." The emotions overwhelmed every sense and the brass reality hit like a truck. All the walls, all the precautions stopped you from ever truly living. You clung onto that escape and depended on it, perpetually remaining the child that needed to come here to truly live. You wanted to be more open, you wanted to have friends and relationships, you wanted to be better.

Everything came to a head when Derek rushed over to you, frantically asking if you were okay. He’s never seen you cry. Before today he’s never seen you be anything other than complacent. The past fifteen minutes have been the most amount of emotions he’s seen from you and he didn’t know what to do or how to help. Worried, he stuck to a bearhug and a mantra: “You’re okay, you’re safe, come back to me please.” He was practically begging after five minutes. In between breaths, you managed to get out a strangled “Why do you like me? Why haven’t you given up on me?” You were still crying but Derek knew he needed to act. He pulled away and softly wiped your tears, forcing you to look at him. “I need you to copy my breathing baby, can you do that?” It took some time but you were able to get your breathing under control, the tears not so much. Silence took over the two of you until he spoke up. “Why would I give up on you? Everyone suffers differently. You choose silence and that’s okay, the only thing I can do is be a shoulder for you to cry on if you choose it. I haven’t given up because I want you to be happy.” He paused, gathering his next thoughts. “I like you because you’re unapologetically you. You try to detach yourself and not care but you’re not great at it. I know you sneak Garcia’s favorite snacks into her lair and don’t think I’m oblivious to you being the one to listen to Reid’s ramblings when the rest of us tune him out.” You interrupted him. “You guys should stop doing that by the way it’s mean” For the first time in what felt like forever he laughed. “See that’s what I mean. You hide behind a grumpy exterior but you’re so much more than that, and that’s one of the many reasons I like you.” You just stared at him. You couldn’t remember the last time someone spoke to you like that, let alone the last time someone saw beyond your gruff exterior. You started to apologize for the breakdown but he quickly nipped that, explaining how you don’t need to feel sorry. You felt safe for once. The cold feeling dissipated and was replaced by an unfamiliar warmth. The tears stopped and you were hyperfocused on the way the man in front of you met your eyes. The silence that hung over you felt like normalcy that only lasted a second before Derek spoke up. “If it wasn’t clear baby I like you.” You looked up at him confused. “I know you just told me that.” A dopey smile spread across his face as he answered. “No, I like you and want to take you out on a date.” Oh. OH. You smiled. A real, toothy, dopey smile that matched his. “I’d like that.” The walls began chipping away.

It would take time and resources to completely demolish them but for the first time you were excited for the demolition.

[jiminrings]

good day miss jimjiminieerings 🫡 i hope i’m not being a bother for asking this but may we 😍 with deepest humility and pleasantries 🥹 have a tiny tiny sneak peek of your brothers bff single dad au 😍👉👈 😍? again if it’s not a bother miss jimjiminieerings!!! feel free to ignore this ask if u are unable to post– im just excited 😍🙏😅🥹

fail-safe (sneak peek)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

sneak peek 01

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye.

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself.

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.”

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot.

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.”

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion.

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

.

.

sneak peek 02

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that Yoongi was right — nothing valuable was left for him in your hometown anymore. He was as right as you were wrong every time he went on a monologue of how he thinks there’s no problem in him admitting that he’s full of envy. He had been right for being bitter that there’s people who have and get much more than him, more than what they deserve, by not even putting a fourth of the effort that he does.

In the same way that he was right, you were wrong for thinking each time that Yoongi would soon outgrow his ambitions and instead, see things for what they are. You were wrong for thinking Yoongi would stoop down to your page, much less ever think of it.

Yoongi was right for saying that his stomach’s made of steel, and you were wrong for trying to convince him otherwise. He’s always had the appetite for more, the digestion of whatever life throws at him coming easy. Yoongi can choke down the reality of leaving Namjoon, your brother, who’s been buddies with him even before they could talk. He could forgo the only brother figure he’s ever had in his life if it means making something of himself.

He doesn’t get constipated from the reality of no longer having the homemade meals your mother would make that the younger, more innocent, and less ambitious version of him would literally jumps fences for. In fact, Yoongi’s palate craved something more foreign and sophisticated; not familiar, hearty meals served in dinnerware dulled from years of routine.

His stomach doesn’t turn thinking about how the skyline he said he’d never get tired of, wouldn’t appear in his new side of the world. The little, unassuming, and far too comfortable version of him who used to chase sunrises with his bike as a child and chase sunsets with his car as a teenager, doesn’t feel like he’d be poisoned if he were to see the sunlight in a high-rise instead of a run-down pavement.

Yoongi’s right when he said he had a tolerance because he doesn’t even get heartburn when you cry for him to no longer leave. You’re not in the position to beg him to stay (and you probably never will be) because as you’ve come to realize, he would only stay for the big things.

The only thing that would anchor Min Yoongi into place and dissuade him from chasing more is by being the most. One would have to be extremely significant, even bigger than Namjoon’s brotherhood, your mother’s impact, and what your hometown has to offer. You can’t even hold a candle to the aforementioned.

In Yoongi’s grand plan that’s as big as the galaxy, you’re merely a speck of dust that had the luck of hovering around him. You realized it back then when you blew over and fought with him right before his flight; right when Yoongi was clutching his one-way ticket, right when one foot was already out of the door.

“But the future that you want is not easy, Yoongi!” you gritted through your teeth, the grip you had on his suitcase too visceral that it bends under the pressure. Yoongi snatches his luggage from you in a blink, nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“Of course you’d be the first to say that,” he seethed, eyes wild and unforgiving. He drills his finger into his temple, inching towards you with an anger he had never shown before. “You don’t work as hard as I do, Y/N! You always settle. You always go for mediocre. You never put your head into anything because you’re too immature for any of this shit!”

“I’m not immature, you asshole!”

“Yes you are, you dipshit!” Yoongi scoffed, throwing his head back. “You cave and you bend and you let the whole world fuck you over, then you come running to me whining. You don’t have a passion in life, Y/N! You’re begging me to stay in the same predicament that you’re in now, what’s not immature about that?”

“When you leave now and decide to come back one day, Yoongi,” you spat with resentment, the tears that pour down your cheeks no longer out of sadness but instead, out of promise. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

“Good,” Yoongi clipped, turning his back on you for the last time. “Good for me.”

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that when Yoongi left five years ago, he also took the large chunk of your soul that had been shaped over and over again the entire time that he stood by you. He’d gotten his hands on the security and contentment you used to take pride in, weaponizing it against you.

You’re unsure if you have to thank him for that, the uncertainty being on par with the insecurity you had felt when he left you with his truth.

When you visit your mother for her birthday and see Yoongi emerge from your childhood bedroom, hand-in-hand with a toddler that looks like an exact carbon copy of him, you’re unsure of what to do either.

You’re not hysterical in the same way you stood before him when you even considered ripping up his plane ticket, but on the other hand, Yoongi’s inconsolable in the way he flounders before you.

“Y/N,” he says breathless, the lump in his throat even bigger than the tiny fist that grips his hand. “I… I-I didn’t-…” Yoongi tries again, his mouth dry at your appearance. “You came home.”

“I’m only visiting,” you answer, the curt smile on your face that Yoongi recognizes to be the one you’d give to strangers making his blood run cold. “I don’t plan on staying.”

.

.

.

ruh-roh new series alert :O wanna read the entire first chapter of fail-safe now + intermission 01 + chapter two + gain early access to succeeding chapters + read other exclusive content?? subscribe to my patreon :D

also to get ahead of the questions: yes, this is a general fic aka it WILL be posted on tumblr too!!!

[roxxie-wolf]

𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒪𝓇𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒

Pairing: Human!Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your parents want you to marry someone of their choice, but you already have eyes on someone else. Will you follow what your parents think is best for you or will you go with what your heart desires.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: human!alastor x fem!reader, slow burn, this story may contain mature sexual content. Your in your late 20's, Alastor is in his early 30's, you still live with your parents idk. If I forgot anything else please let me know.

Note: Next chapter will be out on Friday ^^ unless I decide to post early again.

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟦

Your father’s return from work filled the house with a sense of familiarity. As he stepped out of the car he made his way to the front porch and entered the house, his voice echoed through the hallway: “I’m home.” You emerged from your bedroom, descending the stairs to join your mother, who had also come out to greet him.

“Welcome home, hun,” wrapping her arms around your father in a warm embrace. The love between them was palpable, a quiet reassurance that life continued its steady rhythm.

You followed suit, hugging your father. “Welcome home, Dad,” your voice echoing your mother’s sentiment. The three of you stood there, a family reunited, the walls of the house absorbing the shared affection.

“Are we ready to go?” your father asked, glancing at both of you. The question hung in the air, a bridge between the comfort of home and the adventures that awaited beyond its threshold.

“Yes, we are ready” your mother’s voice sounded excited. "Yeah," you murmured, your reluctance a low counterpoint to her enthusiasm. You trailed behind your parents, the click of the door latch a definitive sound marking your departure from the sanctuary of home.

The car's engine hummed to life, a soft purr that seemed to signal the start of an inevitable journey. Your mother's excitement was a bright note in the otherwise mundane trip, her voice filled with the kind of hope only a parent can have.

As the car rolled down the street, the world outside the window passed in a blur of colors and shapes. Your thoughts, however, were anchored firmly on Alastor—his enigmatic smile, the way his presence had seemed to shift the very air around you.

"Sweetie, give Brian a chance," your mother's voice cut through your reverie, a gentle chiding that pulled you back to the present. Her words were well-meaning, but they landed with a weight you weren't ready to carry.

You didn't want to give Brian a chance, not when your mind was filled with Alastor. He had opened a door to something new, something that felt like it could be significant, and the thought of stepping away from that, even for an evening, was unappealing.

But as the car turned onto the road leading to Richard’s house, you realized that sometimes life required you to walk down paths you hadn't chosen, to meet people who might not stir your soul the way a stranger had with just one smile. Perhaps this was one of those times.

With a quiet sigh, you resolved to face the evening with an open mind. Who knew? Maybe Brian would surprise you. Maybe the evening would unfold in ways you couldn't predict.

————————————

You could see Richard who stood on his porch, a figure of affluence and influence, his posture radiating the confidence of a man who knew the power of his wealth. As you observed him, a flicker of unease danced in your stomach at the thought that such a man could, if he so desired, attempt to wield his wealth in personal matters. Yet, you trusted in your parents' integrity, in their love for you that was worth more than any fortune.

Your father's actions were swift, a testament to his gentlemanly ways, as he moved to open the door for your mother. Not wanting to be coddled, you stepped out of the car independently, your feet firm on the ground as you prepared to face the evening ahead.

Richard's approach was measured, his greeting to your father, "Hello there Alec," a blend of formality and familiarity. The handshake between the two men was a silent exchange of respect, an acknowledgment of their relationship that went beyond mere acquaintance.

Your mother received her greeting with grace, her poise unshaken by the grandeur of Richard's presence. You watched the pleasantries, a spectator to the social dance that was as much a part of these visits as the conversations that would follow.

Richard moved toward you, his greeting smooth and practiced. “Hello, Y/N, how are you?” he asked, his eyes locking onto yours. You smiled, a polite response that masked the whirlwind of thoughts beneath the surface. “I’m good, thank you for asking. And you, sir?” His return smile held a hint of something more, a glimmer of charm that seemed to dance on the edge of familiarity. “I’m doing just fine,” his voice a velvet undertone. “Well, come on.”

As you made your way to the house, your father and Richard engaged in conversation, walking side by side. Their words were lost to you, drowned out by the internal monologue that had taken root. Your mother, sensing your hesitation, came close. “Please give Brian a chance,” she implored, her eyes pleading. “Talk to him and get to know him. I believe he’s the right man for you.”

You stayed quiet, the annoyance simmering within you. *Was this about you, or was it about Richard’s wealth?* The question hung in the air, a shadow over the evening that threatened to eclipse any chance of genuine connection. As you stepped into the house, you wondered if the path laid out before you was truly your own or if it was a carefully orchestrated dance to a tune you hadn’t chosen.

————————————

Richard called his son Brian to come downstairs to greet you. Brian’s hurried footsteps signaled his approach. As you reluctantly turned your gaze from the window, urged by your mother’s insistent nudge, you took in the sight of Brian. He was the epitome of well-groomed, his black hair neatly swept back, bright blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with a different kind of intensity, and a slim build. He was tall but not as tall as Alastor.

You offered a polite smile, the kind that was expected in such situations, and exchanged greetings. Brian’s presence filled the room differently; where Alastor’s was enigmatic and intriguing, Brian’s carried an air of self-assuredness that bordered on arrogance. It was an impression that set you on edge, a silent alarm that whispered caution.

Despite this, you knew the evening was set, a stage upon which you were expected to play your part. The challenge now was to navigate the waters of social expectation while holding onto the thread of curiosity that Alastor had sparked within you.

“Hungry? My wife is cooking,” Richard's offer of a meal momentarily grounded you back to the present. The aroma of home-cooking began to fill the air, a subtle reminder of the domestic scene unfolding around you. "Ah yes I am, thank you," your father responded with a note of appreciation that seemed to resonate with Richard's hospitable gesture.

Your mother's nudge was a silent communication, her widened eyes conveying a message louder than words. You returned her look with an expression of mild exasperation, a silent conversation that only the two of you could fully understand.

"No, I'm not hungry, thank you," your appetite absent amidst the swirl of emotions and thoughts that had occupied your mind. The idea of food was far from appealing when weighed against the introspection that had become your companion of late.

"Well, why don't you go for a walk with Brian, he can show you around, you know," your mother suggested, her voice a crescendo of excitement. The prospect, however, did little to stir any enthusiasm within you. The thought of spending time with Brian, especially when your thoughts were still entwined with Alastor, was less than appealing.

Yet, the suggestion hung in the air, an expectation that was hard to dismiss. With a resigned breath, you nodded. "Alright, a walk sounds nice," you conceded, mustering a smile that you hoped appeared genuine. It was a compromise, a small concession to the evening's agenda.

———————————

The walk had taken an uncomfortable turn, the silence between you and Brian now filled with the unspoken acknowledgment that this was not going to be the match your parents had hoped for. His question about your favorite hobby seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things, especially when your thoughts were elsewhere.

"Uh-um sorry, what was the question?" you repeated, trying to salvage the conversation out of politeness more than genuine interest. Brian's response, a mix of impatience and resignation, only confirmed the disconnect.

"I said what is your fav-ah never mind," he said, waving off his own question. It was clear that the walk was merely a formality, a box to be checked in a list of social expectations. The realization that neither of you was invested in this encounter was oddly freeing.

The evening turned to night, and the moon emerged from behind a thick blanket of clouds. As you both turned back towards the house, Brian spoke again “I do find you very attractive,” His words hung awkwardly in the air, a compliment that felt more like a transaction than a genuine expression of admiration. The silence stretching between you both like the shadows cast by the moonlight.

You winced inwardly, the idea of being ‘bought’ by someone like Brian—a notion that seemed all too plausible given his demeanor—left a bitter taste. Yet, you cling to the hope that your parents would never reduce you to a transaction, that their love for you transcends societal norms. But doubts creep in—*what if duty outweighs love? What if their expectations bind you more tightly than any contract?*

As the house loomed into view, the evening’s events solidified a resolve within you. You wanted more than the superficial exchanges and the roles assigned by wealth and expectation. You sought a connection that was genuine, a partnership of equals where respect and understanding were the foundations.

With a polite nod, you acknowledged Brian’s comment, choosing to keep the conversation civil. “Thank you, Brian,” the words measured and devoid of the warmth he might have been expecting.

As you stepped back into the house, the door closing with a soft click behind you, the weight of the evening's expectations seemed to fall away.

Inside, the sounds of dinner preparations and your parents' soft conversation provided a backdrop to your thoughts. You excused yourself, claiming a need for a moment alone, and made your way to the small garden at the back of the house.

The garden was a quiet sanctuary, the moon casting silver shadows over the blooming flowers and lush greenery. You took a deep breath, the fragrant air mingling with the scent of the earth, grounding you. Here, away from the expectations and the judgments, you could think.

You thought of Alastor, of the way he had looked at you, as if he truly saw you. You thought of yourself, of the life you wanted to lead—one filled with passion, with adventure, and with love that was genuine and true.

The sound of footsteps on the gravel path pulled you from your reverie. You turned to see your mother approaching, a gentle smile on her face.

"Y/N, are you alright?" her voice soft with concern.

You nodded, offering her a small smile. "I'm fine, Mom. Just needed some air."

She joined you, looking out over the garden. Together, you shared the silence, each lost in thoughts as the garden's beauty enveloped you in its peaceful embrace.

Time, however, continued its inexorable march, and soon your mother stood, her voice soft but resolute. "We should be heading home now, sweetie. C'mon, let's go inside and say our goodbyes."

You rose, feeling the solidity of the earth beneath your feet, a grounding force as you prepared to reenter the house. The farewells were brief, a polite exchange of words that marked the end of a evening that had unfolded in unexpected ways. You left Richard's house behind, the car's gentle hum a comforting sound in the quiet night.

🌸𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈🌸 🌸𝒩𝑒𝓍𝓉🌸

PS: Alastor will be making an appearance next chapter.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so you be updated every time.^^ I do try to proofread but if I missed something please let me know.

Also I sometimes tend to make minor changes to the chapters.

Thank you! For reading I hope you enjoyed it.💖

TAGLIST: @magictoebean @little-slyvixen

[luffyvace]

AAAAAAA I WANNA GIVE YOU A BIG PLATONIC SMOOCH I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH

ok ok recently I have been infected with eustass kid and was hoping you could write for him with a male reader nothing specific I feel like he would be so angry if his testosterone filled crew made fun of him for it. Love your work ❤️

AWWW THATS SO SWEET OF YOU DEAR! 💗

PLATONIC KISSES 😚😚

thank you so much!! I’d love to write for you but I simply don’t know much about kid!! I’m on the marineford arc- 😭😭 I usually turn down characters I don’t know much about him but you seem like such a sweetie! After having done some research..Here ya go!~

As stated I’ve chosen to research as much as possible in fandom and other’s headcanons! This may not be the most accurate but I sincerely hope your satisfied with my attempt dearest!~

I feel Kid would think of food as a sort of affection

so technically gift giving??

but it’s like his love language is food

his favorite is cabbage rolls right?? Welllll he loves to eat them together!

not…together together

he buys it for y’all separately

I doubt he’d want to share his favorite food 😭

if you beg for his in a case where he didn’t get you some...

“what?! No! This is my food get your own!….ugggghh FINE! You get a half! This was supposed to be for me”

(● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

I also feel he’d be better off witth someone who’s either all for his rambunctiousness or (somehow) able to calm him down (like killer)

if your just as reckless as him great! Your adventures are now considered dates :)

not necessarily, but he’s fond of them as if they are

he’s always recalling on past times you’ve fought together

you know how people say someone you’ve fought a war with knows you better than a friend?

yeah, I feel like that’s why he has such high respects for his crew

And of course because they’re his crew

so yeah he feels closer to you every time you fight together

if you want you can listen to the song ‘one thing’ by amerie- the lyrics remind me of him idk why (keep in mind I don’t know this guy well :3)

kid would allow you to ride on his shoulders

you could just kinda hop up there casually and he won’t say anything

privileges

but I feel like if he’s in a foul mood or busy he’d grab you buy the waist and sit you down somewhere LOL

another way to spend time with him would be to do your make up at the same time (if you wear it)

(love that it’s casual for men to wear make up in one piece)

he seems like he would be anal about his so you’d be doing your own and he does his, but it’s still fun to do it together

he’s kinda like that with most things

which now that I realize it that could count as quality time

so the conclusion I’ve come to?

his love languages are gift giving or quality time

but thinking about it now I feel he may also do acts of service

now this isn’t as intentional

he just takes pride in likes to help you with things he knows he could do better

aw man you broke your ___? Well I’m sure he could fix it! 😼💪

If you initiate physical touch his reaction will range based on where you are/who’s around and how much it is

if there’s barely anyone/no one around and you give him a peck on the cheek? Fine. He’ll just half smile at you

if it’s a public area and your trying to kiss him on the lips? “Cut it out! Don’t get distracted we’re here to (xyz)!”

he can’t display the weakness of not being masculine

besides he hates cute n’ cuddly crap 😒

he’d be so proud if his boyfriend physically strong

It even boosts HIS ego

especially since your his ♥︎

he takes care of you in subtle ways

such as making sure your eating, not over working and getting enough sleep

”hey! I haven’t seen you eat all day! Get in the kitchen and tell killer to make ya’ somethin’!”

”how long have you been at that!? Get up and come over here!”

”what on earth are ya’ still doing awake?! Go to sleep! Captains orders..”

killer occasionally asks how your relationship is going

kid’ll tell em a few things but he tries not to get sentimental

trust that’s a lot more than what he tells other people..”

”screw off! mind your own business..”

this is really random but he seems like the type of guy who’s always grumbling

idk I just had to say it..

would enjoy headrubs (IN PRIVATE)

and it has to be casual, don’t baby him about it :P

”your hairs’ really fluffy/soft” *casual headrubs*

like that

you have to compliment stroke his ego so he won’t get angry then pat him

to be more specific about reader being a male :

Even if you don’t hc kid to be straight (idk what i hc him to be idk em enough)

his ego is HURT when he realizes he’s in love with you

love?! What is such weakness?! such DISEASE?!

the fact that he’s in the lgbtq bc of one guy kinda makes him angry

cuz like now (some) people are gonna categorize or even ridicule him for even liking you

even though he’s angry about it, it’s not for the same reason

he’s upset because he fell weak to love in general

homophobes may be upset because he likes a man

what does it matter?! He sure never cared..

you can tell the first thing this guy sees is NOT gender

it’s—threat? Or no threat?

so ya- essentially what I’m saying is he doesn’t care for gender- except when it comes to homophobes

then he’s angry 🙂☝️

and as for his crew making fun of him?!

oh he’s absolutely livid. 😄💥

”SHADDUP’ YA STINKIN’ MAGGOTS! I AM NOT WEAK!!”

Actually- they didn’t call him weak. That’s just what he hears 😂

btw that is not what he said I censored it bc I headcanon him to have a potty mouth (and I don’t)

his skin and hair is the same color from how angry this dude is

HE’S LITERALLY LIKE ‘😡’

HAHAHAH

He always storms off whenever they bring up his ‘sOft SpOt” for you 😋

he’s not even soft really he just goes out of his way to do stuff for/with you

its not they’re business anyway?!

right killer?!

while I was researching I saw that the flower he resembles is a tulip! That’s my favorite flower!! 🌷♥︎♡

Enjoy! I did my best 😅

[natsuslover]

ur account is so cutee !!

do you have any erasermic headcanons? (*^^*)♡

aww tysm! 🫶

and ofc i have erasermic headcanons they’re so chaotic i love them so much. i didn’t know if u wanted platonic or romantic so i just wrote platonic bc i have more hcs for that 😭😭

ੈ✩‧₊˚ platonic erasermic headcanons ੈ✩‧₊˚

notes— i’m rewatching mha rn so i’m actually really excited to write all these mha headcanons

ft. shota aizawa, present mic (idk his real name)

warnings: very light spoiler in one of them i think

present mic gossips about the students ALL. THE. TIME. (mostly complaining or like random tidbits of tea but it’s harmless) to aizawa but he doesn’t really pay attention lmao.

except from time to time when mic says something that’s so clearly not the truth and aizawa just has to correct him.

when mic asks aizawa how he knows so much about the students aizawa’s like “they just tell me” which gets mic somewhat ticked off because the students never go to him for anything lol.

when aizawa’s teaching class present mic just randomly pops in from time to time to “shake things up”

he blatantly interrupts the lecture and goes up to the podium and gets all sentimental while dramatically retelling the students stories of his and aizawa’s high school days.

meanwhile aizawa just whips out his sleeping bag and uses the time to take a much needed nap.

really i think present mic does that on purpose because he KNOWS aizawa doesn’t sleep enough so it’s his own way of caring.

both of them just sit and reminisce about their high school days every once in a while because they want to remember the good things about shirakumo :(

aizawa’s not the most sentimental person (at least he doesn’t show that side very much) so present mic is one of the only people who gets to see aizawa when he’s really emotional.

they’re literally the grumpy x sunshine, golden retriever x black cat, opposites attract trope.

aizawa always pretends to be annoyed or exhausted by mic’s presence but everyone knows that’s not true.

despite acting like he doesn’t care he’s actually really appreciative of present mics friendship.

aizawa often goes through tough times with all his students (especially izuku, shoto, and katsuki) getting dragged into situations because he cares and worries about them, and present mic is there cheer him up and reassure him that everything will be fine.

present mic has a really optimistic outlook on life which usually uplifts aizawa’s pessimistic attitude.

whenever it comes to lesson plans both of them help each other out to the best of their abilities because neither of them enjoy planning stuff out.

honestly, i feel like even though they were friends in high school, their bond truly got stronger when they started teaching and because of their students.

random but one time in high school present mic dyed aizawa’s hair blond while he was sleeping at a slumber party.

the next morning aizawa woke up to mic’s relentless giggling, looked in the mirror, and was too tired to even care his hair was yellow lmao. he just looked at mic like “seriously dude?” and continued to wash his face.

but when present mic looked in the mirror he noticed that aizawa lowkey looked better than him in his signature hair color and immediately ran to the store to find black hair dye to dye it back.

after all, there’s no way he’d live it down if aizawa started pulling more girls than him…

unbeknownst to everyone else, aizawa and mic have super smash bros competitions every weekend (mic’s idea obviously)

aizawa wins

every time lmao

mic gets super pissed off about it because aizawa’s not even trying like 95% of the time and he’s STILL unbeatable.

present mic hates olives and aizawa doesn’t mind them, so whenever they get food with olives in it, mic spends time picking out EVERY olive and puts them in aizawa’s food.

they both like spicy food but while present mic is huffing and puffing and hakahajcahak-ing through his food, aizawa doesn’t even have a single drop of sweat on his face.

whenever they want to skip a teacher meeting, they use each other as excuses.

like “oh shit mic just uh… fell off a mountain i have to go help him brb” or “damn looks like eraser broke his foot gotta go check!”

they’re both dedicated teachers but sometimes those meetings can get sooo tedious.

aizawa often has to help present much grocery shop even at his grown age because man does NOT know how to shop like an adult lmao.

aizawa’s telling mic how he needs more onions because he ran out but in a split second the entire cart is filled with an entire year’s worth of snacks and junk food.

one glare from aizawa and poor present mic is putting back every single food item that he got lol.

mic is without a doubt the yapper of the duo.

like bro doesn’t know when to shut up and aizawa just goes along with it because that means he doesn’t have to talk as much.

actually aizawa’s like zoned out the whole time but present mic doesn’t really care he just likes that he can talk without interruption.

both of them are such opposites it just works out somehow and i really love that for them.

ok so this is really rushed and def not my best work but my brain is so fried rn i can’t think of anything so i hope this works 😭 i’ll definitely do more erasermic hcs later on when i can actually think tho.

[outro-jo]

atz and a partner with endometriosis

pairing: ateez member x afab reader

type: scenario

warnings: none, reader in pain, no gender indicators in the fic, yeosang’s is implied that this happens during seggs but nothing is explicit (18+, minors and ageless dni), safeword use, mingi’s is pretty much the period thing i wrote but it’s fine 🙃

request: yes

not taking requests at this time. clearing out inbox

masterlist | info

———————————

hongjoong- all you did was post a private story to some of your friends about being in pain and hongjoong knew. so he left the production up to the other members of kq and left to be by your side. he knew there wasn’t much that could be done, pain killers and heat only did so much, but he just wanted to be there with you, to hold you. by now you were half asleep when the bedroom door slowly opened. “baby?” he called to you softly as he crept in. “hi,” you said weakly. he pouted as he looked at you, all bundled up and holding the heating pad on your stomach. “is there anything i can get you?” hongjoong asked sweetly. you shook your head and reached your arms up to invite him in for cuddles. hongjoong didn’t have to be told twice.

seonghwa- the two of you had just finished breakfast that morning and you were standing at the sink washing dishes when you felt the pain, nearly dropping the plate in your hand as you jolted forward. seonghwa, who had just finished getting ready for a day of practice, stopped short at the front door before rushed over to you. “darling, are you ok?” he asked with concern lacing his tone as he tentatively held a hand on your back. you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, “it hurts, hwa.” seonghwa immediately set the dish and scrub brush in your hands back into the sink and pulled you into his arms, kissing your temple. “c’mon, let’s get you back to bed, love.” he led you back to the bedroom and set you up in your shared bed with a heating pad and some medicine to help some with the pain. he also put on your favorite animation and left the room for a few minutes. you assumed he had left for work but it was odd since he didn’t kiss you goodbye. after some time had passed, seonghwa returned, put his shoes back into your walk-in, and climbed into bed with you, pulled you into his arms for a cuddle and kissing the crown of your head. “i thought you had to work?” you questioned. “you’re more important.”

yunho- this was a bad idea. he knew it but he wanted to do it anyways. “i want to understand what you go through.” it was a sweet sentiment but possibly a bit misguided. the plan was originally to get a period simulator but upon further research, yunho found that endometriosis pain was worse than normal period pain… so he bought a child birth pain simulator. (for the sake of this let’s pretend there’s a difference bc idk if there is) you tested it first and determined that your pain was a seven. yunho’s eyes went wide when he heard this. “a seven? of like childbirth pain?” you nodded. he gulped and started to question if he wanted to actually do this. after you reminded him he didn��t have to, he bolstered himself and agreed. carefully, you press the little electrodes on his lower abdomen and wait for him to give the ok. he breathed deeply, then nodded for you to start. you took it slow, working your way up and to his credit, he handled it very well, trying not to make to big of a display. every time he did, he remembered you saying you had to go to work, school, and the store acting like this pain wasn’t a problem. so if you had to, he had to as well. however, once he hit about five, his facade began to crack. by the time he hit seven, he was crying out in pain and couldn’t even stand. he fell to his hands and knees and you decided enough was enough, turning off the unit. “that’s what you deal with?!!” he asked as he gasped for breath. “umm, yeah?” he ripped the stickers off and stood up, embracing you tightly. “i’m so sorry.” his apology made you tear up. no one had ever tried to understand what you went through or even cared enough to experience the pain for themselves. from then on, yunho pampered you every chance he could, even the times when you weren’t having symptoms.

yeosang- “APPLE!! APPLE!!” you cried out and yeosang froze, eyes wide as he staggered back. “baby, i’m so sorry! are you ok? did i hurt you?” his brows furrowed in concern and he looked over your body for signs of damage but he wouldn’t move close to you just yet, too afraid of hurting you again. “no…i’m fine, sangie. i promise…” the tears streaming down your face told him otherwise. “y/n, baby, please tell me what i did.” his voice was soft, pain cracking through. you sighed and reached out your hands to pull him back over to you. “you didn’t do anything, love. it’s me. i’m just in pain and i tried to fight it for you and because we haven’t…in a while.” you shook your head as you rambled. yeosang reached a hand up to caress your face. “please don’t push yourself for me. if it’s hurting, tell me so i can stop. i don’t want you to be in any pain.” now he was tearing up. “i know. i just hate this. i wish it didn’t hurt so much.” frustration was apparent in your tone. yeosang leaned in carefully to kiss your tear stained cheeks. “i’m so sorry, my love, but please don’t do that again.” you nod in agreement. he smiled at you sympathetically before kissing your lips. “i’ll be right back, ok? i’ll go run you a bath.”

san- san let out as sigh as he cuddled in beside you and placed kisses on your cheek. your body melted into his, letting him be the big spoon for once. “can i get you anything?” he whispered to which you shook your head. “i’m sorry you’re in pain, my love. i wish i could take it away from you.” san was always like this. he cared so deeply for you, he never wanted you to have even the mildest inconvenience, so seeing you in pain hurt him about as much emotionally. he often said he would walk through fire for you and you knew he meant it every time. but seeing him so caring while you were in this state suddenly made you emotional. you let out a whimper as the tears began falling and you rolled on your other side to bury your face in his chest. “aw, no! baby, what’s wrong?” he asked. “it just hurts a lot and you’re so nice to me.” you wailed sounding like a child into his chest. san couldn’t help but laugh at your display before kissing your head repeatedly and pulling you impossibly closer to him. “i love you… that’s all.” san softly. you knew that. with every fiber of your being, you knew that.

mingi- it had been almost thirty minutes since you’d last seen mingi. when he arrived home from work to find you curled up in bed, heating pad clutched to your stomach. he gave you quick peck to your head before rushing back out the door. soon the door opened again and he came back with arms full of bags. “mingi, what is all of this??” first, he handed you the plastic bag in his right hand, arguably the most important considering it had your favorite meal it in, piping hot. he let out a few grunts with a bag between his teeth before he could finally set everything carefully down on your bed. “that’s your dinner. i didn’t want you to have to cook and you banned be from the kitchen after the fried rice incident.” “yes, well, the fire fighters thought it was best.” “right… but dinner, snacks…” he poured out the packets next to you. “i got every pain pill i could find.” the pills rattled in their containers as mingi dumped them out next. “i got a new heating pad and this one has a massager.” he handed the gadget to you. “and i was reading that this tea was good for pain so i got you that too. you want me to make you a cup?” “that sounds nice, min.” you looked up at him with complete adoration before he rushed off with the biggest smile on his face. there was nothing more that mingi loved in this world than to help you when you weren’t feeling well.

wooyoung- ever since your relationship started, something you and wooyoung did was roughhouse. it was always fun and playful and never too rough but you could normally take a lot. today, however, was a much different story. despite your pain, you wanted to do something nice for the boys and wooyoung, so you brought them lunch while they were working on their next album. you were setting everything up in the breakroom when wooyoung saw you and rushed in. of course you heard him before you saw him but you didn’t move, not expecting what he did next. without warning he wrapped his arms around your torso tightly and tried to pick you up… until he heard you cry out. the confused look on his face would have been priceless if you weren’t doubled over in pain. “what? what’d i do? are you ok, baby?” he asked, hunching over as well to check on you with a hand on your back. “i’m fine, woo… i’m just in a lot of pain.” you groan through gritted teeth. “yah, why didn’t you tell me?!” he had the audacity to fuss at you. you found the strength to stand upright and give him a look, “you attacked me!” “with love!” you rolled your eyes. for the rest of the day, wooyoung kept you in his lap and gave you apology kisses to make up for his mistake.

jongho- jongho was very familiar with your condition. he was the one in the doctors office holding your hand when you were diagnosed. he was the first person in your life to take your pain seriously when you heard, “everyone has cramps. get over it!” your whole life. so when he came home from work and found you on laid on the sofa, he knew exactly what was going on. jongho set his stuff down and kicked off his shoes at the door before walking over to lean down in front of you. your eyes opened slowly and you saw the concern in his eyes that looked you over. a hand reached up to stroke your head lovingly and he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “is there anything i can do for you, love?” he knew well enough to know that there was very little he could do to help, but he still wanted to offer. to his surprise, you nod. “i haven’t eaten all day.” you pouted which he immediately mirrored. “we can’t have that now can we?” you shook your head. “ok, leave it to me, hm? i’ll also go get your heating pad. have you taken anything for the pain?” again, you shook your head. jongho let out an exasperated sigh and looked to the ceiling. “what am i gonna do with you? guess i’ll just have to take care of you.” you knew he was teasing you. jongho would do anything for you and did almost daily. with another kiss to your lips, he reached under you to carefully lift you from the sofa and carry you to your bed.

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (04)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, drinking, swearing, the word "dick" is mentioned a few times lol, jeon jungkook (yes, bc at this point he's annoying even to me), yoongi is a menace, oc is fighting with everybody asdfgjkl girl 🙄, inaccuracies about music making !! and i hope obs readers aren't music majors bc that'd be really embarrassing for me lol, idk i think that's it

rating: PG-15

word count: 16.3k

note: a major thank you to @daechwitatamic for beta-ing this for me and for doing it so fast!!, you are a gem ily jo 🥺🥰 aaaaaand omg yeah! i can't believe the duck is here. he's finally here!!! ah we love to see it hehehehe :') it feels fitting that obs4 is the one to close off 2022 <3

series masterpost / main playlist ; interactive playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Ask your new lover what it's like to be given A real fighting chance before you wish her, "Good riddance,” Did anything ever really count Or was I just a two-year practice round?

Before - NIKI

Ah, the grand opening of Jimin’s own dance studio. It’s been in the works for a while now, ever since he quit his job as an instructor at that fancy academy downtown. 

When you arrive at the venue, the event is already in full swing. You would’ve come sooner, to see Jimin before things get too hectic and more people would want to steal him away to say their congratulations. You could’ve come sooner, had you accepted Jungkook’s offer to drive the both of you here. It’s the less time-consuming option, and one that’s more environmentally conscious, but you didn’t want to be left alone with Jungkook – not after what Namjoon had unintentionally revealed to you – in a space where you couldn’t force him to just talk about work while Jimin went to mingle with his guests, and Taehyung couldn’t get off work any earlier than 6:30.

You have to hand it to Jimin. He really went all out for this. The venue he booked looks amazing, and so much bigger than you expected, but that’s probably to accommodate the shit ton of people he invited tonight. There’s catering, cutesy party favors, and most importantly, an open bar that you absolutely would die for. Bless Jimin and his excessive spending heart.

Although, the photographer that he got for tonight can’t exactly be considered great. He looks young, maybe early 20s and still hasn’t learned how to lose the attitude yet, just walking around with his hefty camera and looking like he has a stick up his ass. He’s definitely being underpaid. Jimin must not have taken this factor into account until he had already exceeded his budget.

“Oh, Jiminie,” you mutter to yourself like a mom whose child just won the school talent show, making a beeline for Jimin and pulling him into a hug, not caring that he’s holding a flute of champagne that could’ve easily spilled onto you. “Jiminie, I’m so proud of you. I know how hard you’ve worked, and you deserve this so much. I love you. You’re going to be amazing.”

Every single syllable that slips from your lips is genuine. You’ve seen how passionate Jimin is, and you know how long this has been a dream of his. In your eyes, he deserves the absolute world and more.

You kiss his cheek to emphasize the meaning behind your words. You’ve never been the sentimental type with your friends except for rare occasions like these. On birthdays, you're not the one to shoot them the first happy birthday! text at 12AM on the dot, nor are you the one to plan surprise parties and go all out on extravagant presents.

You have your own way of showing your friends that you love them without any grand, tacky gestures. You like to think that you’re a good friend, and you hope they think that too.

But… you feel guilty today. You feel guilty for even toying with the idea of not going just because you didn’t want to face Jungkook in a setting that wasn’t the studio. When Taehyung asked if you had gotten the invite and you couldn’t confirm your attendance right away, he looked at you like you were out of your mind. He looked at you like Why wasn’t dropping every single one of your plans not the first thought that comes to mind when you received the text. Because this is Jimin you’re talking about. One of your closest friends. The incredulousness on Taehyung’s face that night made you feel small because really, you were being selfish.

After the breakup, you repeatedly assured Taehyung that he should still be friends with Jungkook, though the petty part of your brain wanted nothing more than to have Taehyung cut off all ties with your ex and tell him to go shove it.

If you weren’t in the picture, they still would’ve bonded the way they did and developed that kind of brotherly connection. Just because you and Taehyung were closer doesn’t mean that he and Jungkook weren’t close. They were close throughout college, and it had nothing to do with the fact that one was your best friend and the other was your boyfriend. That’s why you weren’t particularly fond of making Taehyung lose someone he considered family, even if that man did stomp on your heart to hell and back.

You just had to make it crystal clear to Taehyung – and Jimin by extension – to not put you and Jungkook in the same place ever again.

And that’s exactly what Taehyung and Jimin have been doing these past few years. Birthday parties, nights out and celebratory dinners multiplied by two to keep you and Jungkook separate. It was like you were strangers who never knew each other existed. Different worlds that can’t ever collide. You all got used to this certain arrangement. It works out for everybody: You don’t have to see your ex, and Jimin and Taehyung get to keep their friend. If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it.

The barrier that you forced between you and him worked, but sadly it did put a strain on Taehyung and Jimin’s wallets. You were always a group of five though, until Hoseok moved abroad the very week before college ended. He didn’t even attend graduation. That summer, you weren’t the only one left heartbroken. Hoseok’s parents had turned a 180 and decided to make him pursue another degree to take over the family business instead of continuing to let him follow his dreams, which have always been music and dancing. When he broke the news, you all gathered around and cried together. You were beyond upset for him; you knew how Hoseok shined the brightest when he got to do what he loved.

Since then, he only comes back a couple of times a year. Every time, you would all try and make the most of it, wanting to relive those college days that you cherished so much. But during each of these visits, there is always something bittersweet that you think you all could feel. Because Hoseok wasn’t a constant in your lives anymore. The five of you were thick as thieves. You were there for each other through every high and every low. It’s somber to think that you will never have that ever again.

Hoseok wasn’t there to personally witness what the breakup did to you, but you were certain that he knew about it. Taehyung and Jimin must have told him at some point. You don’t think you’ve ever had a proper conversation with Hoseok about how your relationship with Jungkook ended. He only visits as seldom as it is. You don’t want to spend every reunion wallowing in misery, or make everything about your baggage when everyone has their own shit to deal with.

“Shit, Y/N, why are you being sappy?” Jimin mutters as he blinks at you, eyes glassy, all shy and adorable when he sniffles. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

It isn’t until then that you notice Jungkook standing next to Jimin, having watched the whole interaction with an identical champagne glass in his hand and a small smile on his face.

“Hi,” he says, even though it has only been a couple of hours since you last saw each other. 

You send him a nod, merely to acknowledge his presence. Taehyung pulls Jimin into a hug of his own too, swaying him from side to side like they’re in their own little world. 

You can feel Jungkook’s gaze on the side of your face but you keep your eyes trained on Taehyung’s back, watching your two friends be dramatic and goofy and happy.

When you deem that they’ve had their fun, you tug Taehyung back by his jacket. “Okay, that’s enough, lovebirds. You’re acting like you don’t see each other every other day. Stop being so clingy.”

“No!” Jimin swats your hand away but lets his friend go regardless. He’s smiling so big that his eyes have turned into narrow slits, pearly whites on full display, cute pinchable cheeks turned rosy from the champagne and euphoria. “Do I look weird? I feel like I look weird. I can’t stop smiling.”

“You don’t look weird,” you say, booping his nose affectionately then ruffling his head of blond hair. “You look perfect.”

Jimin blushes, which makes him even cuter. Then his eyes light up when he spots someone behind you. His hand shoots up to wave the person over to your table as he calls, “Hobi hyung!”

Hobi– what?

You and Taehyung turn around, four eyes flying wide open.

Slapping a hand to Taehyung’s chest, you gasp. “Holy shit. Did you know about this?!”

“No! I’m as shocked as you are!”

Hoseok skips the pleasantries. He just grins brightly and yanks you and Taehyung into him, crushing you two in his hug as he shakes you enthusiastically. When he lets go, he kisses both of your cheeks. He diverts his attention to Jungkook then, yelling out Jaykay! so loudly that people turn to look. He does the same thing to Jungkook as he did to you, enveloping the younger man in a very Hoseok-esque embrace.

“Hobi!” you squeal, completely overjoyed. Taehyung looks about the same as you, the two of you practically bouncing like golden retrievers. “Why didn’t you tell us you were going to be here?”

Hoseok shares a look with Jimin, and they both break out into a fit of giggles. “Obviously I wasn’t going to miss tonight,” he says. “But I’m disappointed in you, Y/N. You should’ve surprised Jimin with me, not the other way around.”

“Wha– Jung Hoseok, you blocked me last month after I sent you that jumpscare video.”

“Oh, right,” he laughs. “In any case, it’s always so good to see all of you simp over me every time I come home.”

“Hobi, I implore you to stop saying ‘simp’ as a grown ass man.”

“Y/N, this grown ass man implores you to stop calling him Hobi.”

It isn’t until now that you start to relax more. Everything feels so much simpler now that Hoseok is here and all of you are together. Catching up with him, you’re always enraptured to hear the stories he has to tell. Even if it’s brief and the bubble has to eventually burst, he never fails to give you that odd sense of peace you’ve been craving since you got older. Hoseok has a way of making time stretch on forever, in a good way. 

At one point, he stops talking, noticing something out of place. “Oh? You two…” he gestures between you and Jungkook, and the conversation seems to end here because even Hoseok doesn’t know what to say or what to ask. Clearly Taehyung and Jimin haven’t been doing a very good job at keeping him up to date. Then things just start getting kinda awkward again.

You feel partly to blame. After all, you’re one of the two people making this weird for everybody.

For most of the night, you manage to avoid talking to Jungkook. It’s not that difficult really, with Taehyung practically gluing himself to your side (per your request) and catching up with Hoseok, Jungkook could hardly get a word in with you.

You pat Taehyung on the cheek. “Thanks for sticking with me,” you tell him.

“Of course,” he says. “And y’know, it’s not like you really gave me a choice.”

Your hand that’s still on his cheek goes to pinch it. His cheek is so squishy, it feels like you’re kneading dough. You can’t help but squeeze your fingers a little harder.

“Ah! Okay!” he squeaks out. “Sorry!”

You giggle at his frowny face before giving him another affectionate pat. “Seriously, can you imagine Jungkook seeing me drunk without you to hold me back? That’s one of my worst nightmares.”

Taehyung bites his tongue, remembering the night he had put Jimin on pick up duty and Jungkook had tagged along. Taehyung even recalls the morning after, when he was walking on eggshells around you, trying to figure out if your memory would serve you. When he was positive that it didn’t, he had to thank the heavens for letting him live to see another day.

Because if you ever find out, oh you would kill him. You would knock him to the ground and strangle him with your bare hands. He’s absolutely certain that you would. Knowingly letting your friend’s ex see her absolutely shitfaced and crying over said ex? Now that is heinous.

“Hold this,” Taehyung says now that it’s just the two of you, handing you his glass of whiskey. Hoseok got pulled somewhere so Jimin could introduce him to some of his staff, and Jungkook is… well, you have no idea where he is. “I have to pee.”

“What, now?”

“No, two hours from now. I’m just announcing it in advance,” Taehyung deadpans. “Yes, now!”

“I literally just thanked you.” You glare up at him. He starts to get sassy a couple of drinks in. “I’ll come with you.”

“What, to the men’s bathroom? Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I don’t even see Jungkook anywhere. He’s probably mingling. C’mon, I’ll be gone two minutes, tops, okay?”

“No, no, no, wait–!” Aaand he’s already jogging away. Great.

You sigh, take a sip of Taehyung’s drink and immediately grimace. You really don’t like whiskey. You find an empty table nearby to put the glass down and loiter. To anyone, you must look like you’ve got a bad case of social anxiety, standing alone and fidgeting like that, but no, what you have is Jungkook anxiety. 

As you keep your head down and pull out your phone to make it seem like you actually have something to do instead of waiting for your friend to return from the bathroom, your head bobs gently to the faint music coming from the speakers. Peace lasts for about thirty seconds. You turn to look when someone nudges your shoulder.

“You look beautiful,” Jungkook tells you with a smile that almost blinds you. You have to admit, he’s so handsome tonight, and it’s part of why you’ve been avoiding looking at him since you got here.

You glance down at your outfit. You tend to dress more casually at the studio, but today, you wanted to up the ante a little bit for Jimin. It’s nothing fancy, just a smidge more put-together than what you usually go for. Knee-high boots, a black skirt, a cozy sweater and your favorite winter coat. Actually put on some blush for once  to top it all off.

“I’ve looked like this since the morning.”

“I know,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to say it all day.”

It’s the compliment, the sparkling eyes and the soft, warm smile making your face heat up. You bite the inside of your cheek, urging yourself to snap out of it.

The strategy is to deflect. You practically shove your phone in his face with the Gmail app open, making him squint in reflex at the sudden brightness assaulting his eyes. “So Namjoon just sent me this–”

Jungkook takes a step back and brushes your hand away. “Honestly, if it’s fine with you, can we not talk about work?” he chuckles as he says this. “I just got out of the studio. I’d rather not think about it for a minute.”

So it would appear that deflecting is not a viable option.

“Oh, okay.” You nod slowly, putting your phone back into your bag. You are so awkward, and too sober for this, and desperately need your Taehyung-shaped buffer. “Uhm, so… what now?”

Jungkook gives you a quiet chuckle, trying to go over this as nonchalantly as possible. “Friends can talk about things. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Your brows furrow slightly as you recall what you told Seokjin before. Friends… Jungkook still doesn’t seem to know the definition of the word. Does he think you meant it? That you were actually friends now? He can’t be that fucking dense, can he? When he came knocking at your door not that long ago, has he forgotten that look in your eyes and the door closing in his face when he uttered this exact word to you?

From the start, Jungkook was never your friend.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to do this at the studio and I didn’t want to do it here, today, Jimin’s big day, but I have to ask. What are you doing?”

He blinks, seemingly confused, and it prompts you to continue.

“What is this? What am I supposed to talk about with you if it’s not work?” you say slowly. “You know I was just saying that to not make things awkward for Seokjin and Namjoon, right?” Too slowly, like he’s stupid and you need to enunciate every syllable. You can’t help it.

Jungkook puts his champagne glass on the table. He looks a little lost, and it’s clear that this is a turn that neither of you expected. See, you think, wishing Taehyung would come back right this second to witness this, This is why I need to drink.

“What happened? I thought we were doing fine.”

He took the words right out your mouth, only a few years too late.

Is he serious? He really is that dense?

Your mouth falls open, trying to gauge if you are actually on the same topic, or if you’re even speaking the same language. It can’t be more painfully obvious that you two have been living completely different realities.

“You happened,” you snap, amazed by the fact that you even have to tell him.

You stop short of saying: Fuck you. You unraveled my life like a hurricane and now I have to be the one to remind you of it? You wanted nothing to do with me the last five years and now you’re trying to get me all to yourself?

You can’t help the next question that slips out either. Blame the small part of you that’s been dying to know this since you found out the news from Namjoon. “Why would you think that we’d be fine? Who do you think I am to you?”

Jungkook’s lips part but he doesn’t say anything for nearly half a minute. His face falls just a tad, and you don’t really know what to make of that. His eyes glimmer under the lights. With what, you can’t know for certain. It must be shame. Is it possible that there’s guilt swimming in those irises? Underneath the surface of those brown eyes, is it too much to ask that there be some regret too?

You think the question nicked him somewhere you can’t see. Call it wishful thinking, but you hope it’s the same place that he has always cut into you.

Bleed. Bleed like you made me bleed.

Finally, he says, “You’re…”

Then, Jimin practically shouts into a mic that he has procured somewhere. Wonderful timing, blondie.

“Can everyone gather at the front for a group photo please? I’m going to hang it on the wall!”

You don’t know if you should be frustrated or grateful for the interruption. That void that you used to fill with anger and resentment is now bubbling with something else. No matter how hard you try to swallow it all down, you know it won’t stop until you overflow, until you’re swallowed whole by that grief again. You feel foolish. Cheap. Hard to love, hard to keep. He meant the world to you but to him, turns out you were merely replaceable.

You turn away from Jungkook in favor of another chaos. In the midst of the grand Park family – Jimin’s many cousins, bubbly nieces and nephews who all want to be in the center of the photo – you get pushed to the side. There’s too many people here. It’ll probably end up looking like one of those company pictures where at least half the people have their eyes closed and the other half look like they can’t wait to get out of there. You don’t know where Taehyung is, if he’s even back from the bathroom. You’re so tired. So drained, all of a sudden. You miss your bed and your comfy pillows and your warm fluffy blanket. You want to sink into it and melt like a piece of marshmallow on hot chocolate.

You stand there awkwardly on the very edge, aware of Jungkook loitering a couple of steps from you as you both wait for people to make up their mind on where to stand. You can tell that the photographer is getting frustrated when he finally steps in to guide the older people when they start looking like buffering Sims. You don’t even know where Jimin and Hoseok are either.

“Okay, is everyone ready?” the photographer asks, his voice unamused as he raises the camera to look through the viewfinder. He doesn’t even wait for any confirmation and just starts counting down. No doubt about it, Jimin is definitely underpaying this guy. “Three, two, o– Wait. You on the left. No, my left. Yes, you, guy in the black coat. Could you stand closer? You’re almost out of the frame.”

Jungkook – “guy in the black coat” – shuffles closer until you can smell his familiar cologne over the overwhelming floral scent radiating off the woman next to you. He moves until the photographer gives his nod of approval, until your arms touch. It makes you nervous, even through the layers of clothes. What was he going to say? What did you want him to say? What could be a good enough answer?

You all smile as the camera clicks a few times. You might’ve had your eyes closed in one of the shots. Seriously, you have to make Jimin show you the picture before he commemorates his wall with it. If you have to be immortalized on a wall next to your ex, then at least you should look good.

Everybody disperses after that; some going to bid Jimin goodbye as they end the night and go home, some returning to their previously established groups to chat some more. You feel like now is probably a good time to leave.

You move to go find Taehyung, but someone stops you. A warm hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back. You glance at where Jungkook’s skin touches yours, then your eyes flicker up to meet his. They don’t let you move, and neither do the words he says next. His face is softer than you’ve witnessed in a while. No teasing, no bravado. Just honesty.

“You’re someone important to me.”

Oof. Two strikes in one night.

It makes you angry for some reason – his honesty. Because it really looks like he believes it to be true.

This is the last thing you wanted, fighting when you’re supposed to be celebrating Jimin, but you suppose it’s happening. “I can’t tell if you mean it or if you’re just playing with me,” you say.

Jungkook pales a shade as you stare at him with hard eyes.

“I do mean it,” he says. He looks down at your hand, his fingers on your wrist twitching. 

“If that were really the case, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” you tell him. “If I were really important to you, you wouldn’t have screwed me over like that. If I were really important, you wouldn’t be here right now, acting like I’m something you can throw away whenever you feel like it, and pick back up like nothing ever happened. You know, I was starting to be okay. I was starting to get used to it and you just had to come waltzing back into my life. Do you know how important this is to me? That this is my dream I get to live but I’m just trying to survive it and never have to see you again? Why can’t you just– Fuck.”

You choke on the last of it, knowing that if you keep going, you will cry, and your pride won’t let you break down in front of your friends and strangers alike. In front of Jungkook. You count each breath in your head to steady yourself until your lungs feel less like they’re going to burn out of oxygen. 

You’re surprised that you were able to say that without much liquid courage. You’re glad that you’re standing near the corner of the room where nobody is really paying attention to you. Jungkook lets go of your wrist, visibly gulping as he does so. It feels like there’s an entire orchestra in here – people talking, music playing, all echoing around the room – and you suppose you’re thankful for that. He can’t hear your heart screaming over the noises. If you weren’t sure if he was feeling ashamed before, then you’re sure now. He should be ashamed, for everything he put you through. If you could, you would give it back to him ten times worse.

Quietly, Jungkook says, “I’m sorry,” and then nothing else.

You swear you can hear a clock go tick, tock, tick, tock… The passage of time is so palpable, like something you can hold in your hands. Minutes upon minutes, hours upon hours, days upon days - they sit in the palm of your hands but amount to nothing at all. They slip through your fingers again. Nothing is guaranteed, you realize belatedly then, certainly not closure. You’re never going to get it right. He’s always going to blindside you.

And no matter how hard you try to keep him at bay, he’s always going to get under your skin.

Stop slipping. Stop slipping. Stop slipping.

“Huh,” you mutter to yourself, bitterly, confusedly, amusedly, “I thought that would feel better.”

“What?” he asks.

“Hearing you say sorry. Did you know that you never said sorry to me?”

“It’s not– I–” he stutters. How could he possibly object to that? It’s the truth. It’s the absolute and pathetic truth. He leaves the sentence unfinished like the history of the two of you, half written until he decided that he was done with it. Time would not tell the rest, and all you were left with were blank pages that no one could fill. “I’m sorry,” he ends up saying again, as if repeating it would make the words have more gravity. If that is his intention then you suppose he succeeds, because it makes your heart heavier.

“I’m trying to do right by you.”

You consider it for a second. When you turn away, you find Taehyung across the room, already looking at you, though you don’t think he can hear anything from where he’s standing. Your friend has ‘worried’ written all over his face.

“Are you trying to do right by me? Or by you?” you ask, and then something starts to sink in. You spent so much time thinking about it, wondering where everything went wrong. Going around in circles, dwelling, trying to put together puzzle pieces that just won’t fit. That’s time that you can never get back. You’ve always known that at some point, you would have to let it all go. Maybe now is that point. Let go of things that you have no control over. You’re only burning yourself by holding on. Isn’t it better to let it scar than to keep picking at the wound and making it bleed? “Actually, it doesn’t even matter anymore. What’s the point? I’ve come to terms with it. You can do whatever you want to feel better. Just do it by yourself. Don’t use me.”

Jungkook frowns. “I’m not using you.”

You manage to suppress the urge to scoff. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing? Thinking you could come back and sweet talk me and then you’d be absolved just like that?”

“I know you must hate me,” he says. “...for everything.”

“I do.” No fucking shit. “If you know that, then why are you doing this?” Don’t push it, your brain says, but the way he’s staring at the ground, unable to meet your eyes, looking like a puppy you just kicked makes you annoyed. “Did you know that the first time I ever saw you, I hated you?” you ask, making his eyes flit up to yours. “I wish we could’ve left it at that.”

When his face flashes with hurt, you almost feel bad even though you wished for this. His jaw clenches as you walk away, leaving him there by himself.

“Wanna head home?” Taehyung asks before you have to even say anything. He regards you with soft and apologetic eyes, with a gentle hand on your arm and concern still etched onto his features. Taehyung is a warm summer’s breeze compared to the desolate winter that Jungkook has made of you. You answer with a simple nod.

“Wait for me by the car. I’ll say bye to Jimin and be right out,” Taehyung tells you.

“Okay.”

He puts an arm around your shoulder and squeezes you once. “Sorry about that by the way… There was a line for the bathroom.”

Monday comes too soon.

You have to face Jungkook again too soon.

“Unclench your butt.”

You snap your head to the sound of Yoongi’s voice right next to your ear. His tone is teasing, and his face even more so. The man’s got way too much energy for 9 in the morning.

“Excuse me?” you grumble. You’ve been standing outside the studio for almost ten minutes now, letting your nerves eat away at you because you know Jungkook is already here. You saw his car earlier. 

“Your butt,” your friend says. “It’s too clenched.”

“You were looking at my butt?” You give him a disapproving look.

“Only because you look like you’re trying to hold in a shit.” Yoongi shrugs indifferently. “Why are you standing out here anyway?”

Your fingers twitch around the strap of your bag as you try to give him a nonchalant answer. “Trying to manifest the death of capitalism before you interrupted me.”

“Mhmm,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously like a distrusting cat. “Spill. What happened?”

“What happened with what?”

“I know you went to your friend’s thing on Friday. And I know Jungkook was there too. So what happened?”

You debate whether or not you should tell Yoongi. It’s not like you have anything to hide; he already knows about your history anyway. But he’s been the most insufferable toward Jungkook in the short time that he’s been here, and giving him the goss on your little conversation the other day would only give him another reason to be an even bigger menace. You bite your tongue, and put on the most neutral expression you can manage.

“Nothing happened,” you say. “You’re being nosy, Min.”

You push open the door to be greeted by an incredibly cheerful Seokjin and Namjoon. Why is everyone so bubbly on a Monday morning? Have they always been like this, or do you just feel like everything coming out of their mouths is sunshine and rainbows compared to the black cloud hovering over your head?

Seems like you aren’t the only one dreading the new week though. Jungkook visibly stiffens as you enter, completely devoid of that easy-going smile he always greets you with. “Hey,” he tells you.

“Morning,” you reply. To him, to Seokjin, to Namjoon. You take a seat at your usual corner, setting down your bag and pulling out your pen and notebook. 

Seokjin launches into conversation with Yoongi about a basketball game. Apparently there was one last night, but you don’t really care about that. Namjoon doesn’t seem to have much interest in the topic either, choosing to weigh in with an occasional hum here and there to be polite.

Like you, Jungkook is quiet. He knows enough about basketball to hold a conversation but you know it’s never been his favorite thing in the world. Normally though, even if he isn’t particularly knowledgeable in the matter at hand, he would still act like he’s genuinely absorbed in whatever everyone was talking about, just to be friendly and sociable. He was always very good at networking; that’s why people loved him in college. From what you’ve seen, that trait carried over into adulthood as well. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see Jungkook fidget in his chair. He turns his head every once in a while to glance at you, which doesn’t go unnoticed by you, nor Yoongi for that matter. Yoongi nudges your knee with his own, prompting a curious look from you. He leans closer to your ear and lowers his voice so that nobody can hear.

“Jungkook looks like his butt is pretty clenched too.”

Your grip on the pen loosens as you swirl it around absentmindedly, humming to yourself the melody off the page as if it’ll summon words to the sheet, where it’s mostly blank beneath all the squiggly music notes. The men – with the exception of Namjoon; he’s out for the day – gather around, discussing the first demo track. You drown most of it out. Your job here isn’t to wring out the kinks with the technical aspects anyway.

“We could record something for the rough demo today,” Yoongi thinks out loud.

“Today?” Jungkook asks as he arches an eyebrow. “For what track? We don’t have a single thing completely finished yet?”

“Buddy, are you a glass half empty kind of guy?” Yoongi jokes. “From what I see, we have at least four tracks halfway done. That’s enough for us to record.”

The younger man leans back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of his chest, highly annoyed but he still tries to keep a straight face and an even voice. It’s his first big project, and this fucking person is coming in and stepping all over his toes. To Jungkook, Yoongi is just some guy. He has never understood what the hype was about with Agust D, why he has always been a massive media darling and why everybody seems so enamored with him. Seokjin talks about him like Jungkook should feel so privileged to have the opportunity to work with such talent. Namjoon, his own freaking mentor, practically idolizes Yoongi. He almost passed out from glee when he heard that Yoongi would be coming on board. Even when the label was trying to get the rapper to sign with them, Jungkook never got what all the fuss was about.

It’s almost frustrating to watch people around him fawn over Yoongi like he hangs the moon in the sky. If you feel the same way about him, you don’t let it show, but Jungkook can tell that you admire and respect the guy a lot. He just can’t figure out what the deal is between you and Yoongi. Something is there. If not from your side then definitely from Yoongi’s. He seems too protective of you. Taehyung is the same way, and so are Jimin and Hoseok, but with them, Jungkook understands. They’ve been friends with you since forever, and he can’t imagine that your friendship with Yoongi can ever be that special.

“I disagree,” Jungkook asserts. “It’s a waste of time to make a demo now when we’d have to do it all over again later. At this point, all we’ll get is scraps. It wouldn’t help us get anywhere.”

Yoongi glances at Seokjin, who’s been watching but not really contributing, and they both share a look. It makes Jungkook want to get more fired up because he is supposed to be in charge here, but Yoongi is clearly more in tune with what Seokjin wants and how he operates. Jungkook will be the first one to say that he is not the best team player, but at least he tries. It usually works out just fine in the end, once he can get his ego out of the way to actually get something done, but this time it’s proving to be quite the challenge when it seems like Yoongi is constantly trying to hinder him.

“Jungkook, look.” Even the way he says his name is irritating. “I’ve been doing this way longer than you have, buddy. I was a producer before I became a rapper. I think I know what I’m doing here.”

“And I see why you would think this is a good idea, but I’m saying it’s a waste of time and effort to do this when we’ll just have to redo the whole process later. You want a summer release. We don’t have the time, and do we even have enough budget–”

Yoongi tilts his head to one side with an amused smile. “Are you sure this is the right business for you? Should you be in risk assessment instead? Why are you here worrying about budgets and timing? That’s the whole point of doing preliminary demos, to help you see what direction to take and guide the creative process–”

“Okay, okay. Retract the claws, fellas,” Seokjin jumps in this time. “I’m with Yoongi on this one, JK. Take it easy, man.”

Jungkook tongues his cheek and nods begrudgingly. He makes it seem like he’s taking it in stride, tucking his chagrin behind a mask of indifference. Yoongi shrugs with a triumphant grin, clasping his hands together as he gestures both Seokjin and Jungkook to the soundbooth.

“What?” The younger man stares at the other two. “You want me in there too?”

“Yeah, just to test some stuff out. You have a nice voice,” Yoongi admits, and even though he’s being genuine for once, Jungkook still feels like it’s condescending somehow. Anything that comes out of Yoongi’s mouth is patronizing to him. “Couldn’t hurt to see how it would sound like with Jin hyung. Maybe we could even use it later.”

You’ve been trying to keep your head down and shut out all the sounds. Sounds of Jungkook fucking singing. Why did Min Yoongi have to force him into the box?

Back then, you used to tell him that he’s good enough to be a singer. He’d sing you to sleep whenever you were plagued with insomnia, or when you were sick, or just whenever you wanted him to. His voice always soothed you, made you feel warm all over. 

As if ignoring him today wasn’t difficult enough already.

“You’re bleeding.” You hear someone say a while later. 

Your head snaps up to see what’s going on. Somebody’s bleeding? How did that happen? But Seokjin and Jungkook are still in the booth, both looking at the paper that Jungkook is holding, talking to each other about something you can’t catch. You scan the room, brows furrowed, until you see Yoongi looking at you.

“Huh?” He points toward your hands. “You’re bleeding.”

Your eyes follow his line of sight until they land on what he’s staring at. You put the pen on the table and flex your hands. He’s exaggerating, they aren’t bleeding. Well, technically, they are if you count the reddened patches of cracked skin between your knuckles as bleeding. Your hands are just dry because the weather is cold. It happens. Dramatic Yoongi.

You wave him off with a smile. “Eh. It’s fine. I’ll put some lotion on it when I get home,” you lie. You don’t even have any hand cream. You’ve only tried using a dollop of body lotion on your hands once, but you didn’t like how your skin just felt so sticky afterward that it would leave visible prints when you touched your phone screen.

Yoongi shakes his head lightly. “No, you won’t. I’ve noticed that for a few days now.”

You level him with a look. “What are you, the hand police? It’s just dry hands. I’m not gonna die from that.”

“No, you‘re not,” Yoongi agrees, but regardless, he stands up and walks to retrieve his bag from where he left it on the couch. You watch with curiosity as he rummages through it until he pulls out a white tube of something. He crosses the distance to get to where you’re sitting and settles into the chair next to you. He reaches for your hands then, and says, “But do it for my sake. I don’t wanna look at your ugly witch's hands all day.”

“Yoongi!” you hiss, instantly scowling and failing to push him off when his stronger hand grasps one of your own. He pops open the tube and squeezes some of the cream onto your skin. “What are you doing?!”

“Hold still,” he says because you keep squirming. When the sheer weight of your glare on his face makes him look up at you, Yoongi actually glares back at you. Gasp. “Hold still,” he repeats firmly. 

You huff out a breath in annoyance. You glance at the booth to see if the guys are looking, but Seokjin still appears to be focused on the music sheet. You see and faintly hear him humming, his fingers tapping the air like he’s counting the beats. Jungkook, though… Jungkook is looking.

In the few seconds that your eyes meet his, you can tell that he’s trying to understand whatever the hell he’s watching here. You feel your cheeks heat up and you don’t really know if it’s because of Jungkook’s hard gaze on you or the feeling of Yoongi’s hands on your hands. You quickly turn away, missing the way the man in the booth pokes his tongue into a cheek.

You try to kick Yoongi in the shin but he manages to block your foot with his knee. He tuts at you disapprovingly. You watch him with a petulant frown as he rubs the cream into the back of your hand, between your knuckles, over each of your fingers. It feels expensive, though you would expect nothing less from Min Yoongi. The cream soaks into your skin right away, unlike that body lotion of yours that was obviously not made for this purpose. 

“You’re so overreacting over nothing,” you tell him.

“No, I’m not. Y/N, your hands were starting to look like coconut shavings,” he says casually, still focused on being your self-appointed hand masseuse it seems. “Is he looking?”

“What?”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi clarifies, his eyes darting up to your face for a brief second. “Is he looking?”

You exhale through your nose. “He was,” you say flatly, quite displeased with his shenanigans. “Yoongi, I told you not to do shit like this.”

His movements gradually slow. You don’t think there’s any more product on the surface left to absorb anyway. “I’m not doing this because of Jungkook, I promise,” he says, not pulling away just yet, letting his skin linger on yours. His head is still tilted downward, his gaze seemingly glued to where his thumb is swiping over your fingers. Jungkook used to do this too - absentmindedly playing with your fingers. It’s cute, and you hate to admit that the little things like this make you feel warm. You clench your jaw just once. Maybe it’s a guy’s thing.

For a moment, you actually think that he’s being sincere. About what, you don’t know. Then Yoongi looks up at you, eyes crinkling as he grins. “But pissing him off is definitely a huge plus.”

“You’re insufferable,” you tell Yoongi, rolling your eyes and shoving him away with your now moisturized hands. You gotta be honest, they do look and feel a lot better. Maybe you should pick some lotion up after work. You won’t tell Yoongi this, but you tried the exact one he just used on you a while back, in a store, and it smelled so good that you thought about it for two whole weeks. But when you saw the price tag, you immediately recoiled. It was one of the brands wherein the products were more expensive than the city’s median rent, so no wonder Yoongi would be the one to have something of theirs. Different tax brackets, you think.

Yoongi stumbles a little from your push. When he stands up, he takes one of your hands again, opening your palm and placing the tube there. “Use it every night before bed,” he instructs, like he’s a pharmacist and you’re just someone waiting to pick up their prescription.

“What?” You look at him, so serious and kind of offended. “Yoongi, I am not using your old shit!”

He sighs, wrapping your fingers around the tube so you would hold it there. “I don’t even use hand cream. I got that for you yesterday.”

Jungkook is so done. It’s been such a long week and it’s only the first day of the fucking week. After feeling so utterly helpless around you, losing to Yoongi and then watching Yoongi have his little moment with you right in front of him, Jungkook fully intends to drive straight to Jimin’s and raid his liquor cabinet until he gets a grip and figures out what to do on the you front. Especially since you called him out like that.

Jungkook hasn’t been able to focus in over an hour, after you left to go home, but he’s still cognizant enough to save the bits that he and Seokjin recorded earlier. He has witnessed how pissed Namjoon can get when they lose files due to carelessness, and no matter how level-headed his mentor usually is even in the most stressful of situations, Jungkook absolutely does not want to be on the receiving end of Namjoon’s scoldings when the man lets anger get the best of him.

Jungkook glances at the corner that you usually occupy with your nose buried in your notebook. It’s so empty in here; everyone else has already left. He sits there, heavy with so many realizations all at once. It feels like college all over, only this time, he isn’t just a stupid kid with a crush and a weird way of showing affection. He’s hurting you again. No matter what he does, he just keeps making it worse for you and him.

You were right, and it must’ve taken a lot for you to say what you said to him. It was crazy, and foolish, and most of all cruel for Jungkook to think he could patch things up with a smile. He knew how devastated he left you. Didn’t need to see the mess he made to know how much it fucked you up. Didn’t need anyone to tell him – even though his friends all tried – to know how unbelievably heartless it was to abandon the person who loved him the most. But back then, he believed he was doing the right thing. That’s how he coped with it, by trusting that it was the best decision he could make at the time. 

He still remembers that day like it was merely 24 hours ago.

The obliviousness in your voice when he told you he was coming over to talk and you said you had exciting news to share. The way he had cried in the car on his way over, pulled himself together just long enough to say “I’m breaking up with you,” and watched your eager smile drop. He could practically feel your heart in his open palm, crumbling to nothing as he gave it back to you. Like he was saying “I don’t want it anymore.” He remembers crying again on the drive after.

Everything is different now, but if he could go back, even with the knowledge of the fallout, he would still choose to do the same.

There was no point in telling Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, or just about anyone, why he felt like he had to do it. They would’ve just called him stupid and told you. He’s sure that if you knew then, you would try to reason with him, maybe you would even beg. And if you had begged him to stay, then there was no way he could follow through.

Jungkook locks up the studio and leaves. When he passes Jihyo at the reception, he hears her call his name but he pretends that he doesn’t. He’s too tired for this tonight. He just wants a drink, and he just wants to see you even though you were with him all day. 

Skipping the parking lot for now, Jungkook walks to the nearby store, wanting to bring something over to Jimin’s or else the older man will just grumble at him for coming empty handed. When he rounds the corner, he sees you walking by yourself in the small park across the street. Your hands are shoved in your pockets while you stare up at the starless night. Jungkook thinks you should belong in a painting.

He stands there curiously. If you looked straight ahead, you would see him. But you seem preoccupied with the clouds floating through the dark blue, too lost in thought to notice much. Your hand comes up when something lands on your face. A second later, Jungkook feels something wet and cold against his cheek too. He remembers.

He pulls out his phone, fiddles with it for a minute as he contemplates, and ultimately decides to tap on your name in his contacts. Pressing the device against his ear, he listens to it ring, and watches you fish your own phone from your bag. He takes note of the furrow between your brows, the fleeting clench of your teeth. He almost thinks you wouldn’t pick up, but you do.

“Hello?” you answer uncertainly. 

“Hey,” Jungkook says, “where are you?”

“Uhm…” There’s a pause. He wonders if you would lie. “Just out getting some air. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just… in front of you right now.”

Confusion overtakes your features. When your gaze crosses the street to land on him, you let out a small Oh, and give him a small awkward wave. He ends the call and rushes over, even though he doesn’t know what to say to you. He watches you wince, because you always hated whenever he jaywalked. It makes him smile a little.

“Hi,” you say as Jungkook stands in front of you.

“Hi,” he returns. “Mind if I join you?”

You stare up at him for a few seconds before deciding, “Yeah, sure.”

“What are you still doing here? You left like two hours ago,” he says. You walk together further into the park, where lonely lamp posts dimly light your path.

You shrug. “I went to get dinner and just… I don’t know. Felt like I could use some fresh air.”

“In this weather? It’s snowing.”

You both watch the breath that you huff out. “Well, it didn’t start snowing until you got here.”

The first snow, or just snow in general, is never as romantic as they make it seem in the movies. Sure it’s pretty, and when the ground is covered in a thick blanket of snow, it makes for a good Instagram story. But in reality? Snow is so fucking dirty, and when it starts melting, it is absolute hell for everybody. Your weather app didn’t say that it would snow today, but you should’ve known better than to trust that damn thing.

Jungkook hums, and silence falls over you like the snow, making everything so damp and gross. You hope it stops soon.

When some snowflakes land directly on your cheek, you wipe the moisture away with mild annoyance. “I hate snow,” you grumble, pulling your scarf tighter. If you had known that it would snow, you would’ve worn something with a hood and your sturdier boots.

Jungkook chuckles lightly as he watches you hiss when some snowflakes land on your head, startling your skin with its frost and slowly dampening your hair. “You don’t hate it,” he says. “You just hate it when you’re walking in the snow. I know you.”

The universe doesn’t give you time to dwell on that last comment. The ground beneath you turns slippery as you keep walking. You yelp loudly when your sneaker-clad feet skid on the thin ice sheet that the snow has created. You’re fully prepared for your ass to hit the pavement and consequently bruise in about half an hour, but Jungkook catches you with both hands on your waist, pulling you flush against him so you don’t hit the ground. Unlike you, his shoes have more traction.

Your heart hammers from the suddenness of the last thirty seconds. You can see each heavy breath that leaves your mouth and promptly dissipates into the cold air. You don’t realize that your hands are gripping his shoulders to help steady yourself, as if he doesn’t already have his arms wrapped securely around you, and you realize then that wow, this is the closest he’s been to you in years. It’s unbearable just how much you’ve missed being in his arms.

Just two people on an empty street, tangled up in each other, the falling snow your only audience – you look like you’ve landed yourself right in a romance drama, but in reality, this is anything but that.

You clear your throat and shuffle backward, out of his strong hold, careful not to trip and make a fool of yourself any more than you already have. “Thanks,” you say. “I should head home. It’s getting late.”

Jungkook nods. “Do you want to walk back to the company? I can give you a ride home.”

You consider this. The street is steadily being swallowed up by layers of white, and you don’t doubt that it will only be more difficult to navigate the road by yourself as the night gets darker and colder. Cabs are running more sparsely. It would take you forever to get home, especially in weather that makes you feel like a calf learning to walk for the first time.

“Yeah,” you agree, “sure, okay.”

The walk back to the building’s parking lot is mostly silent, and so is the ride to your apartment. You’ve never felt the first snow on your skin before, having always preferred to stay indoors on nights forecasted to experience snowfall. There’s something so wistful about witnessing the inauguration of winter yourself, how these delicate flowers of ice not only herald the ending of a season and the beginning of a new one, but also signal that another chapter of your life is about to close forever. It prompts you to mull over the last 12 months, to see if you’ve accomplished anything you set out to achieve or if you’ve wasted an entire year of your life. To share a moment like this with Jungkook makes you wonder if the universe is trying to send you a sign.

When the car stops at a red light a few blocks away from your place, you take the time to watch the snowflakes twirling outside the window. They wander in front of you, free yet aimless, like they’re asking if they could come in and seek refuge from the freezing cold. Not knowing warmth would be the thing that kills them. Adrift with the gentle wind until they land on the glass, only to die a mere second later. You break the silence.

“It’s kinda nice now,” you say, eyeing the marshmallow-looking ice that’s starting to pile up all around while you’re sheltered by the warmth of his car.

“See?” Jungkook chuckles. “Told you you only hate snow when you have to walk in it.”

“Hmm.” It’s true. You don’t want to admit it, but he did know you. Knew what drove you and what made you tick. Knew how your brain worked and how your heart moved. Knew that you loved him long before you could say it out loud.

Even when you lied that he doesn’t know you anymore, deep down you’re very well aware that he still does. 

“Can I ask you this one thing, though?” you say calmly, but something must alert him that you aren’t looking to talk about the weather or some other meaningless shit. Jungkook doesn’t give you a verbal answer, nor any other indication that you can go ahead and voice your question. He just looks at you before the light turns green, like he doesn’t really want you to ask anything but he has no other choice but to let you. Like he’s scared of what you might demand from him.

It’s okay. You weren’t asking for permission anyway.

“Did I…” love you enough? Was there a single moment where you thought I didn’t love you? “Back then,” you swallow, keeping your eyes on the snowy streets that turn into ivory blurs as the car starts moving again, “did I ever make you feel like you weren’t enough?”

Your ears don’t pick up on much sound in the infinite pocket of seconds that follows. Not the low hum of the car’s radiator, nor the wind that becomes harsher right outside the window. Just his breathing and the beat of your own heart, drowning in the anticipation of his answer.

What if he says yes? Would it mean that after all this time that you spent blaming him, it’s been your fault all along? Were you the one that drove him away?

“No,” he says, interrupting that voice in your head. “Not once.”

You don’t doubt that he’s telling you the truth, but it doesn’t make you feel better. His tone tells you there’s more than he’s letting on, but it doesn’t matter now. Before Friday night, Taehyung had asked if you would ask Jungkook the question, and after some consideration, you had said no. Maybe if it were a couple of years ago, or even a few months back when you saw him again, you would have said yes. You used to think that if he ever came back for whatever reason, the first thing you would ask him is why. You would confront him, demand an answer, make him walk you through every single thought he had before he decided to ruin your life.

But no answer could change the fact that he did leave. There is no excuse good enough to justify how he left you so completely crushed. Sure, knowing would give you some of the closure that you were desperately seeking at one point, but what if it makes everything worse? What if he left because he was looking for something, something more than you could give? What if he found it, only to realize then that it wasn’t worth leaving you for after all?

Now, at least you know that your efforts were felt. You did the best you could, loved him the best way you knew how. 

The man beside you clears his throat. You only notice now that Jungkook has already pulled up in front of your building. You haven’t spoken much before tonight, not about what happened at Jimin’s party. You weren’t sure how to bring it up, or if you should even bring it up. He seemed like he was trying to avoid the topic too. You had the weekend to relive every moment of that night over and over, and you obviously don’t want to talk about it, but you have to address it sooner or later if you want to move forward in peace. 

“Hey, uhm, about the other night…” you start.

He stiffens a bit, and then sighs. “I know,” he says. “You were right. It’s not fair of me to–”

“I’m sorry,” you cut him off firmly. “Some of the things I said were harsh, and I’m sorry.”

Jungkook looks at you in surprise. His ears must deceive him, because, “Why are you apologizing?”

“I told you. I was harsh and it was uncalled for.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he says, frowning. He twists his body to face you. “I deserved it. You were right to call me out. Don’t backtrack.”

You stare at him with your lips pursed. “Why are you trying to argue right now?”

“Because I deserve your rage. Be mad at me.”

“I am mad at you,” you tell him but there’s no bite. You’re softening, loosening your grip while he’s the only one trying to hold on. “But I don’t want to be anymore.”

“Why not? You should. You have every right.”

“Jungkook, it’s been five years,” you chuckle without much humor, thinking back to what you’ve been doing in the last half a decade. Stalking your ex online, mourning your lost love every time he gets into a new relationship, holding out hope. And for what? What’s the point of it all? It’s not like you and him are going to get back together again. It’s a waste of time, time that you could spend trying to let him go and move on, whether he gives you that closure or not. “I’m tired and I just want to get on with my life. I don’t want to keep being bitter about it. What good will that do?”

His face is so serious all of a sudden, like he wants you to actually scream at him. Curse him out. Anything. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“Don’t feel like you have to make amends, or do anything right by me. Can we just, I don’t know, let the past remain in the past? I don’t want to make our friends feel like they have to act a certain way around me when it comes to you. It’s my problem, not theirs. I don’t want to make them uncomfortable anymore. So please, I’m not asking for anything else. I just want us all to… move forward.”

It’s then that he sees, oh, maybe you do belong in a painting. Sitting right in front of him but you’re so far away. He was once the artist but now, he’s merely a spectator.  “Do you mean that?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, Jungkook. I’m really tired,” you say. “Why would you of all people want to be reminded of what happened?”

He swallows thickly. You can tell that he isn’t too fond of the idea, even if what you’re proposing gives him a way out. It lets him off the hook. But for some reason, he’s hesitant to take it, might be resisting it even. You can’t bring yourself to understand why, but eventually, he says, “Okay. If that’s what you really want.”

He doesn’t put up much of a fight, though it doesn’t exactly sound like an affirmation, but who even cares?

“Right, then,” you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt and gripping the strap of your bag. “Good night. See you tomorrow.”

He says it back, and lets you go with a strained smile.

Yoongi’s fingers tap on his knees to the beat of the music playing in the background. You were surprised when he called you on a Saturday, asking if you were free, telling you that he had something to say. You didn’t have any plans and Yoongi said he was treating you, and well, you don’t need to be convinced further.

Here you are, in a fancy restaurant, sharing a tiramisu with Min Yoongi. How nice. You thought he’d have better plans than just hanging out with little old you.

“Will you please just tell me now?” you say, looking at him with playful puppy dog eyes. You take another bite of the dessert, and practically have to stifle a moan when the sweetness melts in your mouth. You honestly think you have romantic feelings for this tiramisu. “I’ve been waiting for like two hours.” 

Yoongi swirls the wine in his glass before he brings it to his lips and takes a sip, all the while looking at you, so happy with the treat that you’re supposed to share but he doesn’t even touch. When he sets his glass down, he calls your name, making you glance up. 

“Do you still… y’know… Jungkook?”

You stare at him back, confused. “Do I still I know Jungkook?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me spell it out. You’ll just beat me if I say it.”

“Oh, so it’s something annoying then? Then please, keep it to yourself.”

“Okay, then,” he says, smiling so obnoxiously because he knows you’re too curious.

Give it a minute.

“Oh my god, fine,” you give up, drawing out the sentence exasperatedly. “Do I still what Jungkook?”

Yoongi regards your face teasingly. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

Your entire body goes rigid. You don’t even try to hide the way your face falls upon hearing his question. What’s the point? He’ll just see right through you anyway.

“You took me out to dinner just to ask me that?”

He nods. “Yeah, among other things.”

“I mean…” You set down your spoon. No one has ever asked you that before, and it’s not a question that you yourself have considered. Jungkook still affects you, that much is clear. Thinking about your relationship still affects you. Does that mean that you have lingering feelings for him? You’ve yet to solve this, and truth be told, you aren’t sure if you would like the conclusion it leads you to. You give Yoongi a vague answer, because even you yourself don’t know what the truth is. But it doesn’t matter, now that you’ve made the active decision to let it all go. “I’m trying to move on.”

“Hmm.” He doesn’t seem very satisfied with your choice of words. “Do you still hate him then?”

This, you don’t really need to ruminate much on. “I think part of me will always hate him for what he did.” And part of you will always love him in spite of what he did.

Yoongi leans forward with both of his arms on the table, contemplating how he should word this. You deserve flowery words and romantic grand gestures, but alas Yoongi is blunt, and sometimes rough around the edges. He has great timing too. Just as you raise a glass of water to your mouth to soothe your dry throat, he says, “Let me be your revenge dick.”

It makes you choke, sending water down every wrong pipe as you cough harshly. It dribbles down your chin and a few drops plop! onto your light wash jeans. You’re glad it wasn’t wine. You would’ve killed him if he made you stain your newly bought trousers. While you try to hold onto dear life, he has the audacity to fucking laugh. When you kick his shin under the table, he hands you a few napkins. It takes you another minute to calm down.

“What the actual fuck?” you hiss. The little “incident” earns you a few weird looks from people sitting nearby. It’s so embarrassing, but Yoongi is acting like it’s the funniest shit he’s ever seen.

“Let me be your revenge d–”

“I heard you the first time, Jesus Christ. Please don’t say the word “dick” to me ever again. In fact, please stop talking altogether. Please don’t open your mouth ever again.”

He does not abide by your request, opening his stupid mouth again and thus cementing his place as your least favorite person in the entire world right this minute. You lost half your brain cells listening to that one singular sentence. Jesus fucking God. Who in their right mind would utter something like that? And to you, no less? Fuck. Men.

One of these days, you swear you will pop an aneurysm. It’s so ridiculous that it’s not even funny. But Yoongi just keeps talking like you’re asking him to elaborate.

“What I’m saying is… use me.”

“For what?” You’re genuinely so perplexed as to what the point of this conversation is, or where it’s even going. This man has a way of surprising you more and more each day.

“For revenge dicking purposes.”

You do your best to suppress a shudder. Where did that term even come from? “Oh my god, why do you keep saying that? We’re in public! What if someone hears you?!” 

The man sitting across from you grins, showcasing his pearly whites, clearly very amused by your reactions. “You gotta show Jungkook what he’s missing. Make him regret it.”

“Min Yoongi,” you say slowly. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“No. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been this serious,” Yoongi answers. “Let me be your arm candy. I’m very good at that.” You’re very curious about who raised him and how he turned out to be this way. You can’t believe you have to tolerate him sometimes.

You give it another minute before you say, “I’ll have you know that Jungkook and I had a very productive talk. We’re in a much better place now, so your… whatever services won’t be necessary.”

He leans back, eases up, and stares at you thoughtfully. Like he doesn’t really believe you. Like the cogs of his mind are once again turning. “Okay, that’s even better. I don’t have to be the rebound. I can just be your main piece.”

Looking at him pleadingly, you bemoan, “Yoongi, why are you doing this to me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“It absolutely is not obvious!”

“Seriously?”

You cross your arms, raising an annoyed eyebrow at the man. “Listen, I don’t know what kind of people you’re hanging out with, but my friends don’t go around offering to–”

“Because I like you.”

You could practically facepalm. As he stares at you, not even blinking anymore, you reach for the salt shaker on the table to pour some onto your hand. When he opens his mouth to ask what you’re doing, you flick the miniscule white crystals in his direction. 

“Wha–”

“Yoongi, I can’t believe you wasted a whole evening for that lame ass joke.”

“Did you really just…” He throws his head back, laughing in both disbelief and amusement. “Wow. You tell a girl you like her and she throws salt at you. That’s definitely a first for me.”

“It’s not funny. Stop saying that.”

“Stop saying what?”

“Stop saying you like me!”

“But I do like you,” he says, voice softer now. “I’ve always liked you.”

You mentally groan, sucking your teeth before you reach for the salt again. He grabs your wrist before you could hold it up. 

“Quit it and listen to me. I’m serious.”

When you look at Yoongi, he’s wearing an expression you don’t think you’ve often seen, or ever seen before. There’s no trace of that familiar teasing smile that’s almost always on his lips, nor the mischievous glint in his eyes that he usually sports. This side of Yoongi is new to you. This side of Yoongi makes you hold your breath for some reason.

For a second there, you believe what he’s saying.

“Come on. You’re taking this too far.”

“Why do you keep thinking this is a joke? You know I would never do that, Y/N.”

You pull your hand back to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Because you keep using me to mess with Jungkook even though I’ve asked you multiple times to–”

“Can you not mention his name?” Yoongi straightens in his chair. This is the closest he’s ever come to being annoyed with you. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel and you’re thinking about Jungkook.”

You liked it better when he was cocky about it.

“You can’t possibly be serious right now.”

Yoongi purses his lips, his eyes telling you that he’s irritated with you too, only he’s much better at containing his frustration. You both stare at each other for god knows how long because neither one of you understands what the other is trying to say.

When Yoongi speaks next, his voice is so calm, so low that it makes your spine run cold.

“You were always so oblivious.”

“Oh my god, pick up, pick up, pick up,” you mutter to yourself like a deranged person on the sidewalk, telepathically urging Taehyung to answer the phone before you’ve even called him. His phone filters through your speaker after the third ring. Kim Taehyung, always so quick to answer your calls.

“What’s u–”

“Oh my god, Kim Taehyung, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, you will not believe what just happened,” you rush out in one breath. “Where are you? Are you at home? I’ll come to you. Oh my god!”

“Jesus, did you mix coffee with Red Bull again? Slow down,” Taehyung says. “I’m at Jimin’s now.”

“Oh? Okay.” This is even better. Jimin’s apartment is much closer to the restaurant than Taehyung’s place is. “Is it boys’ night? Nevermind. Doesn’t matter. I’ll come over right now. Be there in 15!”

“What? Wait, Y/N, no, Ju–!”

You hang up before he can say anything else. You bounce on your heels as you flag down a cab, so awfully restless and you just want to tell someone. On the ride over, the driver keeps glancing at you through the rearview mirror every few seconds; your nervous energy must have infected him because you look like you just found out that someone is freaking dying. When you arrive at your destination, you take a deep breath before you hurry up the stairs. Jimin’s building is old and has no elevator, which normally sucks because he lives on the fifth floor and you absolutely despise stairs. But right now, you have so much adrenaline coursing through your veins that five flights feel like a piece of cake.

You have no doubt that the men inside know it’s you from the way you ring his doorbell repeatedly. Jimin opens the door with an exasperated look, to which you pay no mind and just press a quick kiss against his cheek in greeting before you barge into his home in search of Taehyung.

“Kim Taehyung! Where are you? This is an emergency, I need y–!”

When you do find him, however, he isn’t alone. Sitting next to Taehyung on the couch and holding a bottle of beer to his lips, is none other than Jungkook. You all look at each other awkwardly as the words die on your tongue, killing some of the nerves while you bite your lip to keep your mouth shut. Jimin waddles into the living room after he shuts down the door and plops down next to Jungkook. Now there are three pairs of eyes on you.

“Oh, uhm, hi,” you say to Jungkook. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Hi,” he says, and offers you a beer on the table. “Want one?”

What you said to Yoongi at dinner wasn’t exactly untrue. You and Jungkook are kind of in a better place now. In the last few days, since you had your little chat in his car, he’s let up on the crap that he was pulling before. Something still feels off to you though. Feels like his head isn’t really in it, that he’s still doing this for the sake of trying to ease his guilt by going along with what he thinks makes you happy. Whatever. It’s at least a little progress, you suppose.

“No, that’s fine.” You wave Jungkook off before inching closer to Taehyung and pulling him up by the arm. “Uhm, I just needed to talk to Tae and I’ll be on my way!”

You drag your friend into the guest bedroom that Jimin has recently turned into an office, all the while ignoring his shout of “This better be good! Don’t forget to tell me later!” as you shut the door.

You glare at Taehyung. “Okay, why didn’t you tell me that Jungkook was here?”

“I tried to!” He raises his hands in surrender. “You hung up on me. I texted you about it.”

You rummage through your bag for the phone that you so hastily shoved in there before getting into the taxi. The notification on your screen glares back at you.

[21:42] Taebear 🐻: jungkook is here btw. dunno if you’re cool with that

“Right…” you mutter. “My bad.”

“Well?” Taehyung prompts, then his face turns worried as he gives you a once-over. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

You inhale deeply, holding onto his wrists and staring him dead in the eye. Even with the door closed and with Jungkook and Jimin all the way in the living room, you keep your voice low. “I think I just got propositioned.”

Your friend blinks slowly, or rather, he closes his eyes for five whole seconds before he opens them. Taehyung visibly relaxes when he comprehends that you are, in fact, okay and healthy, and that you’re just being overly dramatic.

He pushes your hands away. “Fuck off. I thought something bad happened.”

“Something bad did happen!”

“You are literally the worst person.”

“I’m serious!”

He groans and looks at you like a disappointed parent. “Fine,” he relents, “what happened?”

“I think Yoongi sort of pimped himself out to me today.”

Taehyung opens his mouth, closes it, and does it again a few times. “You can’t just say that and not elaborate.”

“He said he likes me.”

There comes that slow-ass, neverending blink again. Taehyung looks like the meme, like he’s seeing the world in nothing but equations.

“I fail to see how that would be considered pimping oneself out.”

“Well, you have to hear what he said after–”

A mop of fluffy blond hair materializes out of thin air, startling you both. You didn’t even hear him come in. That sneaky little thing. “What are we talking about?” Jimin asks, lowering his volume to match yours. “Why are we whispering?”

“Why are you here?” You look behind him at the door that he left ajar. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“He’s in the living room.”

“By himself?”

“Well, there’s no one else here, so duh.”

You exhale exasperatedly. “Now it’s gonna look like we’re talking about him.”

“Aren’t we?”

“We’re talking about Yoongi,” Taehyung says, casting his eyes to the ground briefly.

“Yoongi?” Jimin asks, glancing between you and Taehyung with a slight frown. “Your Yoongi?”

You raise an eyebrow in question. “What do you mean my Yoongi? There’s only one Yoongi. He’s the Yoongi.”

“Okay. So what’s up with the Yoongi?”

Taehyung turns to his wonder twin with an unamused look. “She’s doing that annoying thing where she gives you a single detail of the story and you have to ask her to keep going every time.”

Blondie makes a face. “Oof, yeah, that’s annoying. Don’t do that.”

You gape at the two of them. “I’m giving you tea and you’re complaining about my storytelling skills?”

You should’ve expected it, should’ve known what was coming the second that question left your mouth. The guys don’t even need to look at each other to be in sync when they echo, “Yes.”

“But seriously,” Jimin says, “what about Yoongi?”

“We went to dinner tonight and he… said he likes me…” you tell him, and physically recoil at the memory. Oh… the horror. “And he said, oh my god I can’t even repeat it without wanting to jump off a bridge, he said to let him be my revenge dick.”

Jimin gasps. Taehyung chokes on his own spit. They both sputter out, “What the fuck?”

“Right?!” you cry, still so fucking mortified by the experience. “I almost died just sitting there. I can’t believe he made me listen to that with my own two ears.”

Taehyung is the first one to turn serious. “What happened after that though?” You don’t know what you would do sometimes if there wasn’t a Kim Taehyung to ground you.

“Well, I came here.”

“So…” he drags out the single word, “you ran away from him?”

Jimin looks at you expectantly too, wearing the same question in his eyes. You frown at them. “What? No. I threw salt on him and told him to stop fucking around and then I lef– Oh my god, I did run away.”

Shit.

Shit.

“Hold up, what the fuck,” Jimin cackles, like this is all just so funny. “You threw salt on him?”

You let out a nervous laugh, and point finger guns at your friends idiotically. “But it’s fine. Because obviously he didn’t mean it.”

“Why would you think he didn’t mean it?” Taehyung asks.

“He’s an annoying little shit sometimes! And,” you keep your volume under control again, “he hates Jungkook. He’s only doing it to piss him off.”

Taehyung purses his lips, regards you with a look you don’t like because you’re trying to sort through this logically, convince yourself that it isn’t real and that Yoongi is just missing April Fool’s day by four whole months. Why is your friend making this more difficult?

“Is it so hard to believe that someone can like you?”

“Yes,” you say seriously, “when that person is Yoongi.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s Yoongi!” You throw your hands up. “He’s not like us.”

“I hate to break it to you, but celebrities aren’t above having crushes.”

You look at Jimin for help, but he just shrugs, choosing silence as the neutral option or maybe staying silent is just his way of agreeing with Taehyung. This isn’t the reaction you expected when you rushed here to give him the goss. Taehyung doesn’t blindly support your every decision or try to rationalize your every move just because he’s your friend. He tells you to your face when you’re being absurd, so you really don’t get why he’s the one being unreasonable right now.

“Oh my god, please,” you say. “Yoongi absolutely does not have a crush on me.”

Jimin chimes in. “Well, he did literally just admit that to you.”

You send him a glare that says, Oh, so now you’re talking?

You turn to Taehyung again. You can’t believe this is happening. Are you two really arguing? About whether or not Yoongi actually likes you? While Jungkook is sitting by himself in another room? You bet nobody has this on their bingo card.

“I told you. He’s just trying to fuck with Jungkook.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Why do you think he’s trying to fuck with Jungkook?” Taehyung challenges.

“Because he’s my friend!” you groan. It’s the most obvious thing in the world, but no one seems to believe that Yoongi is just your friend. “You’re my friend too. But you’re being so fucking annoying now.”

He narrows his eyes at you, as if to prove a point. “Yoongi is that good of a friend that he would go out of his way to mess with someone he hadn’t even met until a couple weeks ago?”

“I– well– maybe!” you stammer, blinking up at him. The height difference is clearly not doing you any good. “He’s a very petty person. And when he isn’t being a little shit, he can be a very good friend.”

Taehyung scoffs, seriously getting on your nerves. It isn’t even any of his business. You just wanted to tell him for the sake of sharing with your best friend, not ask for his opinion on any of it. He doesn’t even know Yoongi, never even met him.

“I know what people are like when they’re in love with you,” Taehyung mutters, eyeing the ground. Jimin makes a noise and nudges his friend in the rib, shaking his head while he does so.

 You, petty little you, want to fire back. “Oh, so Yoongi is in love with me now?”

Taehyung opens his mouth, prepared to continue his assault on your sanity when Jimin has to step in, waving his hands in front of you both. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says. “Why don’t we just call it a night and let’s reconvene when everybody is thinking straight, yeah?”

Taehyung doesn’t even look at you. You try to release your frustrations through a loud exhale, but it doesn’t do much. When all of you venture out into the living room to leave, you remember that Jungkook is still here. He looks at yours and Taehyung’s disgruntled expressions, then at Jimin’s face as he not-so-subtly shakes his head, silently telling him to not ask any questions. Poor guy, this was boys’ night after all. You couldn’t have spent more than 30 minutes in Jimin’s office. He was just quietly drinking his beer and watching TV out here, unaware of everything going on in the room just down the hall. Now everybody seems pissed and the night is spoiled.

You bid Jungkook and Jimin a curt goodnight before you head for the door, saying nothing to Taehyung because he clearly doesn’t deserve any pleasantries after tonight. You end up going home with more questions than answers.

You hate this. You hate it so much.

Now that you’re finally starting to actually coexist with Jungkook – of all people! – the other men in your life have to come for your head?

You haven’t spoken to Taehyung since that night, which was only three days ago, but still. It’s the longest you’ve gone without talking to your best friend. You don’t know what was up his ass, and Jimin has just been telling you to not overthink it, that Taehyung will reach out when he’s calmed down. It makes zero sense to you, because how does your situation affect him in any way? What does he even have to calm down from?

With Yoongi, on the other hand… Well, you’re still convinced that he was just being good old insufferable Yoongi. This is how he has always been – teasing, easy going, and has a good rapport with you. That night was just a fluke. Maybe he had too much to drink and didn’t know when to stop the joke from getting too carried away.

You are not fighting with Yoongi. You are not fighting with Yoongi. You remind yourself of this, so that when you see him in the studio next, everything is okay.

Yoongi arrives some time after lunch and brings everybody coffee. You expect him to be lighthearted as always, which he is, and you expect him to sit next to you as always, which he does. He laughs with Seokjin, chats with Namjoon about the art scene, pokes “friendly” fun at Jungkook every now and then. You two work side by side, bouncing ideas off each other like you normally do. He doesn’t mention the dinner, which makes you feel a whole lot better about that night because see? Everything is fine. If everything is fine with Yoongi then everything is fine with Taehyung too.

Some time around 5pm, Yoongi asks if you should all go out for drinks tonight. He gets shot down by the guys though. Apparently no one is up for after-work drinks on a Tuesday night.

“You’re no fun,” Yoongi grumbles before turning to you with hopeful eyes. “Y/N?” he whines, “Indulge me like you usually do, please?”

“No, thanks,” you decline. You glance up in time to see Jungkook quietly chuckling to himself. “Today is my self-care day.”

“Tuesday is your self-care day?”

“Because tomorrow is Wednesday. I have a pre-Wednesday routine.”

“Did I ever tell you that you’re very weird about Wednesdays?” Seokjin asks.

You hum in thought for a moment before answering him. “You did. And then you told me a really bad dad joke.”

He makes an exasperated Ahh noise as he recalls the very moment, then blasts his booming windshield wiper laugh when he remembers the joke he made. “Hey, that joke was killer!”

“It absolutely was not! The only decent one that I’ve heard from you is–”

“No, no, hey,” Yoongi cuts in, “don’t entertain him and his stupid jokes. Come onnn, you know I hate drinking alone. Go for a drink with me, princess. You used to be my drinking buddy all the time.”

“Uh huh,” you scoff. “And look where drinking with you got me.”

“I allow fraternizing in the workplace as long as I’m still the priority, guys,” Seokjin chirps in. 

“That’s not what I meant,” you say quickly. “No one is fraternizing with anybody!”

Yoongi hums quietly. He drops his volume, just for your ears. “No? Is that your answer then?”

“What?” you whisper. You don’t know why you’re whispering. You just do it because Yoongi is doing it.

“You kinda ran out on me the other night.”

“I didn’t–”

He gives you a look.

“Okay, maybe I did… but only because you were being ridiculous!”

Yoongi licks his lips and tips his head toward the door. He’s the first one to stand up and head out of the room, followed by you half a minute later. You appreciate him wanting some privacy for you two to talk, but you don’t like that this is a conversation that needs privacy. You were all just joking around in there. If this is still a joke, why is he leading you out here?

Walking out the door, you hear Seokjin call after you, “Fraternizing!”

“That is not what’s happening!”

You find Yoongi in the empty breakroom, leaning against a counter.

“You can drop it now, Yoongi,” you say.

“What?” he tilts his head, looking at you curiously. “You still think I’m messing around?”

“Obviously.”

“Why is that?” he asks. “What makes that so hard to believe?”

It’s what Taehyung asked you the other night too.

Because you’re you! is what you almost say. It’s the same answer you gave Taehyung, because, well, do you even need another explanation? You don’t tell him that though, thinking it might offend him somehow. Instead, you throw him a question.

“Okay. Sure. Let’s say that you are serious. What happened? When did you even start liking me? Why are you telling me now?”

Yoongi exhales gently, straightening up to walk closer to where you are. He stops when he’s right in front of you, looking right into your eyes and using the same voice he did that night. “I always liked you. I liked you last year when we first worked together and I like you now. The only difference is then, you weren’t trying to move on,” he says, so unwavering that it makes you stagger.

That… is not what you were expecting. You blink up as he smiles down at you fondly. You feel lightheaded. Maybe even scared, because what if he means it? He sounds too sincere for it to just be all fun and games. You remember the way he held your hand when he made you put on that stupid fancy lotion.

His voice keeps lowering, and you hate that it makes you nervous. Your stomach twists, your heart pounds against your ribs.

“If you’re moving on now, can’t you do it with me?”

Looking back now, were there signs that you should have noticed?

You stand there, processing, not knowing what you should say to him, not really even breathing anymore. Yoongi must interpret your silence as realization, recognition, because he chuckles, again amused by your reaction.

“Yoongi…”

He stops you, though you weren’t going to say anything else. You feel like you could cry. Maybe he sees it in your eyes. Yoongi pats your arm gently, still smiling. “I’ll let you sleep on it, princess.”

When he leaves the room, you keep standing there by yourself. So Taehyung was right? Your friend who has never had a single interaction with Yoongi, who has only heard about him from the stories you shared, could tell that there was something there? That Yoongi had feelings for you all along?

At the dinner, Yoongi said you were always oblivious.

Is it possible that you really had no idea, or did you just force yourself to look the other way?

That night, was he hurt? After you repeatedly dismissed him and eventually walked out?

Oh, Yoongi…

When someone enters the room after you’ve been standing here for what feels like forever, navigating the sea of your own thoughts, you startle to life.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks, eyeing you as he goes to fix himself a cup of coffee.

“Yep, mhmm,” you respond. You try to shove away all of your unraveling emotions. They could wait until later.

You have no idea why you’re still standing here, watching Jungkook make coffee with his back to you, but that’s arguably a better idea right now than to go back to the studio where Yoongi is. 

“You know,” Jungkook starts, pressing the buttons on the fancy coffee machine that you don’t know how to use. “I don’t think it’s very professional. Y’know, Yoongi flirting with you all the time.”

You stare at his broad shoulders with your brows furrowed, already on edge even though you don’t know what he’s referring to.

“What?”

“I don’t think it’s professional,” he repeats. “Yoongi flirting with you all the time.”

“When has Yoongi ever flirted with me?” you ask. It’s meant to sound sarcastic and defensive, hoping he’ll take the hint to back off but really, now that you’ve said it, it’s a question that you yourself would genuinely like the answer to.

“Admit it,” Jungkook says, turning around to face you. “It’s not like he tries to be very subtle about it. All the nicknames, always complimenting you, even when he put his hands all over you the other day right in front of us! There’s no way that you’ve missed the way he looks at you sometimes.”

You blink a few times, not sure if you heard him right. You hope your brief silence gives him a chance to backtrack when he sees how offended you are, but he just stares at you. Jungkook really does have the worst timing, and it doesn’t take long for your anger to overflow. Moving forward together in peace lasted a whole week, huh?

“Even if Yoongi is flirting with me, how is it any of your business?”

“It kinda is my business, though, isn’t it? Considering he does it at my place of work.”

Oh, he’s gotta be kidding. 

“Okay, it’s your place of work,” you hiss. The steam rising from his fresh mug of coffee might as well resemble the cartoon-like smoke churning from the top of your head. Jungkook seems taken aback by your reaction, but honestly, what the hell did he even expect when he said something like that to you? “So you fucking the receptionist must be so professional, right?”

Paling about a hundred shades, he looks like you just poured a bucket of ice cold water over his head. The gulping throat, the parting lips, the guilty eyes and his whole demeanor exuding shock and embarrassment, because Jungkook didn’t know that you knew, let alone foresee that you would throw it in his face. He stands there, dumbfoundedly muttering, “How– Who told you about that?”

You ignore his question. Why does it even matter who told you? If you were less angry, you would be more curious as to how he thought this was going to go. Why would he say something like that out of nowhere? 

He said he deserved your rage? He wanted you to be mad? Fine. Be careful what you wish for.

You feel sick to your stomach and he would come to you and say shit like that. Like Jungkook can dictate anything about your life. Like he has the right to fuck things up and leave when he’s had his fun.

Your sinuses burn when you speak next. “You don’t see me running to you, whining about how Jihyo always looks at me like she wants to gouge my fucking eyes out. How she’s always so nice and bubbly to everyone but then when it’s me, she acts like I ran over her fucking dog.”

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t expecting this reaction.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“No, just save it. You talk a big game about trying to do right by me and then you go and say shit like this. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m so fucking tired.”

People often say that you should never make decisions when you’re angry. No one wants to end up regretting something they said or did in the heat of the moment. You’ve always thought that this is good advice, and you always try to live by it because you know your temper can get the best of you sometimes.

The keyword here, though, is try.

You run a hand through your hair, feeling infuriated at this point because Jungkook keeps fucking explaining himself, even though he’s the one who started this whole thing. You can’t even properly hear what he’s saying, all of his words going into one ear and out the other. Something about it not meaning anything and ending it with her months ago. 

You take a deep breath and look into his panicked eyes.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite.”

You think he’s apologizing again, from the way his lips form the words I’m sorry, but your pulse is ringing so loud in your ears that you don’t really catch the sounds. The anger inside of you still simmers despite having spilled over. Your face is so eerily calm that you hope it scares him. When you turn on your heels to leave, you know he’s following you back to the studio. You sit back down beside Yoongi but you don’t meet his eyes. You keep your gaze trained on the open notebook, nursing that anger.

You should’ve known that there’s no moving forward with Jungkook. If anything, he just wants to tie you to the past and never let you leave. Is he that immature, that selfish that even after all this time, after what he did, he can’t stand the idea of you and someone else?

You briefly make eye contact with Jungkook from across the room before you turn to Yoongi, your voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

“On second thought, that drink does sound nice,” you tell him with a smile. “Pick me up at 9?”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted december 31, 2022]

[killemwithkawaii]

Hello! I’ve been reading your stuff for almost a year now, and idk if your taking requests rn but do you think I could get headcannons of yan!Sal being your best friend and what that would consist of? If your able to of course. Also I love all of your work! I always come back to read it!

Aw yeah, gotta love some platonic yan~ 💖

Sal as your Yandere Best Friend (forever and ever and ever)-

[CW: Yandere, obsessive behavior, borderline stalking, self-sacrifice, emotional manipulation]

>Sal is extremely sociable and gets attached to people quickly. He’s likely to be the one to introduce himself to you and invites you to hang out with him and his other friends almost immediately. Once you guys click, you go from casual acquaintances to ride-or-die overnight. You’re pretty much stuck with him after that (he doesn’t take friendship lightly!) 🤝💙

>Constantly wants to hang around you, even if you’re not doing anything in particular, invites you along to pretty much everything, and shows up at your place unannounced for impromptu bro time. He just really enjoys your company! Because he's constantly asking what you're doing when he's not there, he knows your schedule and where you are pretty much at all times. He would feel very left out if you mention that you did something fun or important without him. (He covers it up well, ‘Oh, I’m glad you had fun! That sounds awesome, I’ll have to try that out/ go there sometime…’ but you can tell by his mood change that he’s upset about not being included 😞)

>Incredibly generous, always willing to do favors for you without expecting more than a ‘thank you’ in return, and is happy to go out of his way to help or please you. He will literally give you the shirt off his back, if it seems like you’re in need of it. After all, what are friends for? (He of course has his limitations, but you’d have to make some pretty preposterous requests for him to deny you something.) 🙇‍♂️

>Wants to do everything that you do. Take the same classes, join the same clubs, have the same hobbies, listen to the same music, and live in the same house as you, if he can manage it... He wants to appreciate what you’re all about, really get to know you on an intimate level and know who you are at your core. Doing all the same things is a great way to do that and an excellent way to spend more time with you, especially if he can get you to teach him a new skill or you both learn something new together. 🎨📸📚

>Very physically affectionate. He’s always down for a hug and likes to stay within close proximity (almost zero personal bubble, unless you make it very clear you need some space, which he will do his best to respect). He’s not keen on strangers getting to close to either of you, but you guys might as well be conjoined at the hip. 🤗

>Is quick to be your scapegoat and come to your defense. He’s great at lying and coming up with excuses to get the both of you out of trouble (or just get what you want), will always politely yet firmly speak up when you’re slighted, and he never lets anybody get away with being a jerk to you. Sal can be absolutely scathing when the situation calls for it! Assholes get roasted on the spot if they dare to mess with his BFF. (Be aware: He can take a punch, but he’s not much of a fighter, despite his willingness to get into physical danger for you. Don’t let things get too heated or you’ll have to help patch him up later.) 🩹

>Texts you often and at all times of the day because of his insomnia. If something reminds him of you, you’ll know about it. 💬

>Highly sentimental. He keeps receipts, tickets, photos, and other small mementos from the times you’ve hung out together and talks about those memories with a deep, rose-colored fondness.  🎫💭

>Always wants you to talk about your feelings (sometimes to the point of prying), loves it when you tell him your secrets, and plays therapist for you all the time. He delights in lending an ear when you want to vent and when he gets you to spill all those juicy personal details, especially the ones you haven’t really told anybody else about before. Letting him know those things about you means that you trust him enough to be vulnerable and that you two have a really strong bond. He’ll always be there for you, no matter what! ♾💙

[greenhappyseed]

MHA Ch. 417 leak reactions

Izuku enters Tomura’s finger cocoon and disappears from view of the cameras.

I guess the cocoon is like a Tardis and is bigger on the inside? Since Izuku can throw punches in it? Oh and there’s an entire house inside? Which is a memory but also not just a memory because Izuku can physically get hurt by the objects in/around the memory house??? (Please don’t spoil the visuals for me, thank you.)

All the vestiges are gone, meaning they’re now in Tomura, except for Nana, who is rejected (again) by Tomura. That 2 rejections for her.

Love that we now have it expressly shown that Tomura is a dark mirror to Izuku.

Tomura says die and Izuku says not today. Overhaul asks, “do you have a plan?” And Izuku says not today.

But really, it’s great to have memory versions of ReDestro, Stain, and Overhaul challenging Izuku because, much like Tomura, Izuku operates more on feelings and vibes than actual methodical planning. Like Izuku always struggled to answer why he wanted to be a hero.

Once inside the house, Horikoshi brings the pain. Nana watches as Kotaro calls her a demon and strikes his own son for playing heroes with his friends. It kills me that Nana never got to see Kotaro grow up, and her first glimpse of him as a grown man is him cursing her name and inflicting violence on his family.

Nana moves to hug Kotaro, which also finally transfers her vestige into Tomura. He couldn’t resist Nana in this moment.

Her final thoughts are that this was all her fault which, objectively, isn’t true. AFO killed her husband and pressured her; Kotaro made his own horrible choices as a grown man and father himself; and AFO intervened with Tenko to groom him into Tomura. But it’s similar to the sentiments we’ve heard echoed from All Might about what happens if the world doesn’t have its symbol. We know it’s NOT TRUE that one person is all that stands between peace and violence…but it doesn’t feel that way to the person standing at that intersection.

The chapter ends with Tenko crying in the backyard and Mon starting to decay. Izuku is in his middle school uniform, watching it happen. I don’t know at what point he will intervene, and I don’t know what damage that intervention will do to his real body, but I don’t think he’s going to just sit there and watch.

I’m also curious if Nana hugging Kotaro changes anything we see about how Tenko decays Kotaro. Or if Nana being within Tenko helps reveal Tenko’s true feelings and regrets over killing his family.

I assume, at this point, Izuku still has some form of super strength (like All Might’s embers). But I don’t think he has access to the vestiges’ quirks anymore, so I don’t think Izuku can float (for example). Idk, we will see! Presumably he can still see and hear the vestiges within Tenko as long as AFO and OFA are resonating, so maybe…

Speaking of that resonance, is a memory version of AFO going to come out and play? If Izuku’s physical body can be hurt by Tenko’s memories, then can those memories make AFO into something with a real body?

[loftedlow]

i’m angsty because i think my period is coming soon so short Fyolai stuff (i keep forgetting to track it.)

p.s. This is my first time writing fanfic so uhm yeah tips are welcome and i’m sorry it may not be up to expectation…

I want to bash your head in so I may be the one you lose life to. Not illness. Not in a home at eighty. Right between my arms and a concrete wall, your blood reminding me of my own sanity.

It won’t bother me. It won’t bother me a bit because I can just do that.

Someone made a grave mistake letting me the gift of free will and I thank at their feet for that error.

———————————————————————

3rd person

But also like kinda Nikolai pov

———————————————————————

Nikolai dreamt of a day like this. He knew what it was like to have a man die at his arms but Fyodor was something more than that. An enigma to say the least. Thats why they were perfect for eachother, of course!

The white-coated man made his way to find his best friend. He opened the door to Fyodor’s office without knocking, as per usual, or sometimes he’d knock in different tones or rhythms. Contrary to the others in the DOA.

“Kolya.” Fyodor greeted without batting an eye toward him. “You’re up early.” At least he agnoledged. Nikolai liked to go at different schedules on different days. It deserves to be noticed— not that Nikolai felt like fixing his sleeping schedule. Maybe some day.

“Fedya~..! Good night to you too!” The overgrown class clown stepped up from behind the anemic bastard and wrapped his arms tightly around his shoulders, tightening as he moved up slowly toward Fyodor’s neck. He didn’t plan on killing him right now. The sun had barely come up and there was no way to see his beautiful eyes glaze over as his body might go limp in a cold, lonely lay over Nikolai’s body. Or maybe the moon would be a better setting? “When I kill you do you think the sun or the moon would be prettier to die on?”

Fyodor brought his own dainty, cold hands up to gently peel off the digits from his neck. He gave him only the smallest chuckle in response and turned the swiveling chair to face the standing, Almost like morse code to say try it, Lyubimaya moya, as his violet eyes settled on Nikolai’s figure.

“Like a proposal! You’d be with me together because your my best friend! Til you started to stink cause’ I don’t know how to comfort poor Sigma.” Nikolai wrapped his cape wonkily around his body and fidgeted with it. That had not sounded as…sentimental as he had originally intended.

Suddenly a long finger touched his lips. “Kohl’s, how about we talk a walk, hm?” And Nikolai smiled warmly. Similarly to the rest of his body in which apposed Fyodor perfectly, warm and bright. He enjoyed the outside much more than his beloved Fedya.

The two ter**ists locked the creased of their fingers in each other’s, shifting every once in a while and accossionally, platonically squeezing the other’s hand.

___________________ ew so rushed i’m not even gonna read it back bc i don’t even WANT to know how bad it is some goddess/god of an ao3 author tell me your ways or teach me, dm me anything. This might stay in drafts idk. Love u all tho <3

[angelofthenight]

Children of the Corn: Yandere Alphabet

Characters Included: Isaac Chroner, Malachi Boardman, Micah, Eli Porter

(Gn!Reader)

Overall warnings: Yandere, Dark themes, Swearing, Unwanted/Non-con touching, Forced religion (only in Isaac), Murder, Unhealthy relationship, Violence, Jealousy, Social isolation, Manipulation, Possessiveness, Obsessiveness, Clinginess, Stalking, Spying, Gaslighting, Invasion of privacy, Power imbalance, Mention of sexual assault (only in Malachi), Emotional abuse, Non-con kissing, Mention of sexual dub-con (only in Micah), Brief suicide mention (only in Micah), Guiltripping, Unhealthy mind games (only in Eli), Controlling behavior, Hypersensitivity

( This was supposed to just serve as a writing exercise to get me back in the groove for another yandere book I’m still writing, but I kept going with this so I just decided to post it. )

( Also idk if the Children of the Corn fandom is either underground or so underground it’s dead but I hope like the two CotC fans on tumblr will enjoy it😭 )

Isaac

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Isaac’s main display of his love and affection is through caressing your face or cheek and cradling your head as he speaks to you. Other than that he’s not super affectionate. Although when you’re on super good behavior then verbally demonstrating his love is more common. He can be quite a devout, as if you were his religion, when it comes to you if you let him.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

It depends on the circumstances. Most of the time he’ll keep it clean and just use them as sacrifices, but making their deaths more slow. But sometimes if it’s in the heat of the moment he’ll hastily slash someone’s throat in a fit of rage depending on what they did.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He wouldn’t abduct you but the basic equivalent to that is after all the adults have been butchered. He’s smug at heart but his attitude when he finally has you is like he won a game and you lost. He’s extremely smug and cocky about it all. But he does treat it like it’s for the best, that he’s done you a favor, as you look at him completely mortified at what he has exactly done.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Yes. He’s the only one of the four characters who forces you to join his religion, even when he knows you’re a nonbeliever, and makes you pray with him.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He doesn’t get emotionally or sentimentally vulnerable with you but he does talk you through a lot of his thoughts. He doesn’t keep very many secrets from you, if not very many then none at all, and is typically very open about his life with you. The day he would cry in your arms is the day pigs would fly.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Isaac would be very annoyed above all else. He absolutely hates when anyone, not just you, tries to lay a violent finger on him. This is one of the few times he’ll get furious with you, and it scares you out of fighting him. You’ll throw your fists at him knowing you could overpower him but then he’ll either grab onto your shirt or your throat (depending how violent you are) and scream into your face about how ungrateful you are, giving you mental whiplash due to how calm he is most of the time with you.

“How DARE you have the audacity! I am the one keeping you alive! You’re lucky I don’t throw you to the vultures to RIP OUT YOUR EYES!”

He doesn’t mean what he says when he’s angry, but you don’t know that.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

This is most certainly not a game to him but he doesn’t show much care when you try to escape since you never succeed. If you do it repeatedly then he’ll get vexed and annoyed with you, your relationship is most similar to a mother and her rebellious toddler. But overall he’ll just be disappointed and confused as to why you would want to leave such a “happy place”.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Isaac was loudly lecturing you, something about how He Who Walks Behind The Rows will not tolerate your insolence and how much you owe Him. You, at your breaking point and finally snapped, cursed and mocked his beloved god. He shoved you to your hands and knees in the dirt and forced you to pray to that very same god. Everytime you would try to lift yourself up he would slam his foot on your back, forcing you back down as he never ceased his screaming down at you. This was in front of everyone who watched in silence. Embarrassment embraced you as the public dehumanizing humiliation burned tears from your eyes.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

In his ideal future, you have finally converted to the cult and lead beside him. I think he would think he’s an exception for the “death at 19” rule due to being the giver of His word and you would get to live with him.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

It’s quite obvious when he’s jealous. If he notices you purposely standing next to someone in a close proximity or looking at specific people (for whatever reason, it doesn’t even have to be attraction), he’ll get very snappy and grumpy attitude-wise. He’ll aggressively interrogate you over it, blowing things way out of proportion and making the biggest deal out of it.

Kisses: What exactly made them fall for their darling?

Your natural purity.

Love story: How did they meet their darling? How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

When he moved to the small town at a young age, it was extremely difficult for him to make friends. He wasn’t the most pleasant person and naturally became an outcast. You were warmly friendly and was the only one to reach out to him and befriend him, being an outcast of the town yourself as you never really fit their norm. Although he was very unusual and peculiar, it only furthered your fondness of him. He went about trying to court you through creating intimate, tensioned moments with you like lingering hand touches, not elaborating on his specific compliments on you, and fleetingly caressing your cheek with his knuckles. You picked up on his signals easily and sometimes you would return them. But he started to get bolder with his moves when he started converting kids in his little religion. You started to grow distant from him after learning from him about what his religion is truly about.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really but he is typically in a happier mood when he’s with you, the most he’s ever smiled is when he’s with you or when watching you sleep. He also goes much easier on you and everyone knows it, he’s basically a mother with her obvious favorite child or a teacher with their obvious favorite student. His favoritism annoys the crap out of Malachi.

Nemesis: Who do they consider a rival?

Kind of no one. He’s a little cocky about how he knows no one would dare take you from him, plus he socially isolates you. He’ll only seriously consider someone a rival if you yourself hint/show interest in someone else.

Obsession: Are they more obsessive or possessive?

Surprisingly, despite how manipulative he is and how much he socially isolates you, Isaac’s much more obsessive than possessive. He isn’t very verbal about it though since he doesn’t believe your bad behavior deserves his romantic words describing what he truly feels about you. He is more reserved and reclused about his worshiping obsession with you. His obsession with you is almost in a religious manner, viewing you as an earth-bound god that deserves to be their own religion. If you were your own religion, Isaac would blissfully suffer from scrupulosity. He puts you on a holy pedestal and often parallels you to religious figures, no matter how uncomfortable it makes you.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

When it comes to your bad behavior, he’s willing to be patient for awhile but if you prove to show signs of never changing then that’s when he finally snaps at you. Just don’t push your luck with how many times he lets you off the hook without punishment when you break rules. When it comes to waiting for you to love him back, he thinks you have no choice but to eventually fall for him back. He’s willing to wait for the stockholm syndrome to kick in. And if it doesn’t, well you better start faking your love for your own sake.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Isaac is a very interesting story compared to the other characters in this list in the case of your death. Now of course he would be utterly heartbroken, probably dissociate for an hour or two, but he would then reassure that it was His will and that your death was part of His plan. He would bring you up constantly though. If the other cult members aren’t in check or aren’t doing good he would grow furious and internally panic that they were putting your death in vain.

He would never let you leave him, at least easily. He would gaslight the hell out of you and make you believe that he’s the only one keeping you safe and/or looking out for you. He’ll plant the idea in your head that the others want you dead because they know that you’re a non-believer and that Isaac is the only reason you’re still alive.

There’s a very slim chance you’d ever successfully escape. If you go through the corn, you’re either not coming out alive or ending up back where you started, as if you never left in the first place. If you stay on the road, Isaac would send almost everyone after you to bring you back. Being the leader has major perks so Isaac would lie to the others saying that He Who Walks Behind The Rows needs you alive, thus making it much easier to keep you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He will never feel guilt and he will never let you go, no matter how much you beg and cry.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Attachment issues and the fear of losing the one person who cared about him when the whole town was once against him (pre adult massacre). He’ll never forget that rare, angelic kindness he saw within you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He finds it agitating and a waste of time. He doesn’t think you deserve to be comforted when you act like a baby. He’ll threaten you out of all three of those things.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He’s not as bloodthirsty or jealous, plus he’s a cult leader so that changes a lot of variables.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

One of Isaac’s biggest weaknesses is his arrogant trust in you. I say arrogant because he knows you have nowhere to go, he knows you cannot escape with the corn and the cult surrounding you. So he lets you roam around town without supervision and he also often lets you off the hook without a proper punishment after catching you disobeying him. So you can easily use all of this to your advantage. Plus he can never stay mad at you if/when he catches you. So you’re going to have to outsmart him. And not just him, but the whole cult too. As well as He Who Walks Behind The Rows depending on your escape plan. And actually, you could also use Him as a weakness against Isaac. And I’m talking about lighting that cornfield to flames.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He doesn’t like or enjoy inflicting harm on you… but he is a slapper.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Like I said before, Isaac is secretly more on the obsessive side and unhealthily worships you as if you were a god, admiring you like you’re a fallen angel. And if you were a religion Isaac would be your passionate priest and most devoted preacher. His romancing words weren’t enough to win you over before so now he results to just manipulating and gaslighting you into loving him. He paints himself in a way of a savior and your only suitable option, asking if you’d rather be with him who only wishes for your safety and happiness or any of the others who have always thought lowly of you and are savages at heart. Sometimes you hope the others will one day find out about how much he shit talks them all and turn against him.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He silently pined after you for a few months, resisting his attraction as much as he could, but then slowly started getting worse. He snapped after he started hearing He Who Walks Behind The Rows.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He thinks about it sometimes, just as an option though. But he doesn’t see you ever getting so ill-mannered that you would need to be subjugated to that.

Bonus: What do others think of their relationship with their darling? Do they try to interfere or intervene?

I mean, none of them think it’s normal. But they don’t care enough to step up for you. In fact, they kinda think you’ve set yourself up for it since you two were so close pre-adult massacre. Plus you’re the most infamously nonbeliever so some of them choose to believe Isaac is just trying to convert you through intense love. Probably the closest thing they do to worrying is whisper to each other about how weird Isaac’s infatuation with you is or how unfair his soft spot for you is since he lets you off the break for multiple rule breaks.

~

Malachi

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Malachi shows his love through acts of service and protectiveness of you. He’s not physically affectionate to an intense level but he does also show his love through affectionate touches like hand holding and really always just having a hand on you whether it be on your arm or your back. He is surprisingly a big cuddler, but it’s a little too overwhelming for you as he holds onto you tightly and will not let go even if you start to struggle and ask him to loosen his grip a little.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Oh the bloodier the better. He’s very impulsive when it comes to killing someone for you so leaving behind a big mess is very common.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Like Isaac, the equivalent to abduction is the aftermath of killing the adults. He’ll be over the moon that you can finally be together without anyone trying to tear you apart. He’ll be very confused and a little sad when you appear to be the opposite but then he’ll grow to be aggravated.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying? What can I do to make you feel better? Do you just need to eat? STOP CRYING!!”

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He tries to keep it at a minimum but overall yes. That includes forcing “couples” things on you like kissing, physical affection, forcing you on dates, forcing you to tell him what he wants to hear. He would only force intercourse with you if he was not in the mood to be refused at the moment (probably got publicly scolded by Isaac earlier so he needs to do something to feel in charge).

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Surprisingly, Malachi gets very vulnerable with you. So vulnerable it gives you mental whiplash and you wonder if this was really the same boy who forced you into a relationship. He’ll get too comfortable and then he’s crying in your arms about what his life was like before the cult started. You’re almost guilted into liking him back at that very moment. But after his non-dignified crying session in your cradling arms, he’ll get up and wipe his cheeks then walk away and treat it as if it never happened to begin with. Again, mental whiplash.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He gets angry but easily overpowers you. He focuses more on keeping you down to make you stop struggling rather than attack back. He’ll wrestle you to the ground and pin your hands above your head until you stop kicking and screaming.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He wants you to stay where he puts you and gets very angry when you flee, well, try to flee. However he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy the chase. So in a way it is kind of like a game to him. He loves that adrenaline rush during your guys’ game of cat and mouse, especially since he always wins.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

You will never experience the same fear and horror you felt when Malachi took you for the first time. You ran down the stairs of your house after hearing a string of crashes and yelling and once you made it to the living room, the sight of your parent’s with their throats slashed open as a smiling Malachi stood over their fallen bodies was shoved right in front of your very eyes. You screamed bloody murder and you took off right back up the stairs, Malachi instantly chasing after you. You just barely made it into your room and locked the door then began trying to push open your heavy window. Malachi used his bloody axe to break the lock and force himself inside your room, making it just in time as you were beginning to escape out the window. He manhandled you out of the window, all while you screamed and cried and thrashed around, and tightly dragged you kicking and screaming down the stairs.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He doesn’t intend on living past 19 due to his beliefs so his ideal future is the two of you walking into the cornfield hand to hand (if his birthday comes first then you’re joining him but if yours is first then he’s joining you. But if he had a change of heart then I think he would be the only one of the four boys who would want a family with you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Malachi’s always been the jealous kind starting from the early stages of his growing crush on you. He would get jealous of every single person you interacted with, they were so casual and charismatic with you and you always returned it. He knew he could never be that kind of person you easily converse with. In the cult, after he finally has you, he’s most jealous of Job and Sarah (just adding more reasons as to why he wants them gone). You always seem the most content when you’re with the two little kids and he hates it. He either kills the person he’s jealous of or throws a private tantrum, it’s rare that he takes it out on you.

Kisses: What exactly made them fall for their darling?

He crushed on you at first because you were attractive, nice and funny but he fell for you after your kindness did not falter when talking to him, treating him like a normal human being.

Love story: How did they meet their darling? How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He’s had a schoolboy crush on you ever since the third grade. He never really knew how to approach you so the only way he could get your attention was by doing the stupid teasing hair pulling and nudging you roughly in the halls. As he got older he grew too shy to even do that so he just resulted to admiring from afar. At first it just started as weird but simple crush things like sniffing your hair as you walked past and staring at you. But following you in the halls turned into following you home which turned into full on stalking and spying on you.

He was scheming ways to talk to you or spend more than three seconds together. He would get tongue tied and socially awkward every time he would try to talk to you though. He would get a sudden burst of confidence and walk right up to you but once you turned around, waiting for him to say something, his jaw would go slack and not a word would come out. His eyes would naturally shift into glare without his awareness. Then he’d grunt and quickly walk away, leaving you very confused. Yeah, his approaches were that weird.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Oh my god he’s almost like a completely different person (when he’s not angry with you), it literally gives you a mindfuck. With everyone else he’s this temperamental enforcer; psychopath. But with you it’s as if a switch is flipped and he becomes his own exact opposite, soft with puppy dog eyes.

Nemesis: Who do they consider a rival?

He’s a territorial yandere and is insanely paranoid about every little thing, but he considers Isaac his arch nemesis when it comes to your heart. It’s for a very dumb reason though. He thinks Isaac wants you all for himself when in reality Isaac doesn’t care much for you, he’s aware that you are miserable and don’t reciprocate Malachi’s feelings but he doesn’t really care about your predicament.

Obsession: Are they more obsessive or possessive?

He may act more obsessive but he falls under the possessive category. He’s greedy for your attention and sometimes acts like you’re just a prize he won and not a real human being with rights and feelings. He treats others with the “finders keepers” mentality when it comes to you. He’s selfishly overprotective of you and is paranoid that everyone wants you. It’s like he’s a wild dog hogging meat all for himself.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He really does try to be patient with you but ultimately fails. He’s just never been a patient person his whole life. When he wants something he wants it within minutes.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you die, Malachi would not be able to move on. He will never see anyone else in the way he saw you. He would become a monster, as you were the only thing that kept him grounded. He would become much more angry and violent, and much more forceful when it comes to keeping the other cult members in line.

If you left him, Malachi would use physical force and aggression to force you to stay with him. He would also pull the toxic, “where would you go?”

If you successfully escaped, it wouldn’t be for long. He would notice your absence quickly and instantly begin the chase. If you’re still on the road, he would easily catch up to you and drag you back into town. When it comes to you, he never slows down nor wastes a mere second of time. If you made it past the road then it would take Malachi some time to find you. He would try to bring some friends to help him but Isaac would refuse, even telling Malachi to stay and forget you. But he would go against orders and still chase after you, which he eventually would since, as stated before, he is unhealthily relentless and does not slow down. So just like the Tortoise and the Hare, you would take a break while believing you’ve made it far enough unknowingly allowing Malachi to finally catch up to you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

The closest to guilt he will get is feeling sad when you cry, that’s the closest he’ll get to feeling remorse. I think he would consider letting you go for just one fleeting second at a maximum of one time, but other than that I don’t think he ever would.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

His lonely childhood.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Like I said before, he gets sad when you do any of the listed things but the more you ignore his questions on what to do to make you feel better then he’ll grow angry and snap at you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Even though he’s a loose cannon, with the right words he’s easier to keep under control compared to most yanderes.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Malachi’s sick love for you. He’s very paranoid about you so if you add fuel to the fire of his worries you might be able to sneak in a chance of escape. The prime example is making him so paranoid about your safety, like make him worried that some of the others have been giving you predatorial looks, and plant the idea of letting you stay in the abandoned house closest to the road by yourself… for your safety of course. You just have to make it sound like it was his idea though. So if you play your cards right you can have him wrapped around your little finger.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He would never, like, beat you up or anything. Probably the closest thing to that was unintentionally slapping your face in a fit of rage one time. I honestly think Malachi truly does not want to physically hurt you in any way, it’s close to being a weakness. But that doesn’t include roughly grabbing onto you with an iron grip and aggressively manhandling you, resulting to light bruises on your skin.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He’s not the best at putting his emotions into words at all so you don’t really know how much he practically worships the ground you walk on. He shy’s out of telling you how much he loves you loads of times, he just wishes you could read his mind to understand that there is no one in existence that he adores more than you. Although he’s bad at expressing his feelings, he'd do anything to win you over and does indeed try everything. He experiments with a variety of love languages to try and appease you.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He’s always been very strange and weird for you but he officially snaps as soon as all the adults are killed.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

No… well, like Isaac, he does remind himself it is an option if you prove that you’re never going to stop fighting him. Just don’t get confident in thinking he wouldn’t do it…

Bonus: What do others think of their relationship with their darling? Do they try to interfere or intervene?

People are only more concerned when you’re not with him. You keep him grounded, you keep him basically leashed so if anything they want to keep you two together. And even when they do get a little concerned with its effects they don’t dare say anything about it.

~

Micah

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Oh my god, starting off strong. Micah is the most overly affectionate out of all four boys. He shows his love in any way possible like gifts, acts of service (except his interpretation of service is murder), and quality time (except to you it's most of the time just him following you around and not leaving you alone, it’s suffocating).

He shows his love the most physically and verbally. He constantly goes into preaching frenzies about how much he loves you. Some things he says are actually poetically romantic but most of the time the way he says things and how he phrases things comes across as excruciatingly creepy and morbid, making you unbearably uncomfortable and sick to your stomach and desperately wishing he would just stop.

He outrageously smothers you in physical affection (hugging/holding you, kissing/making out, hand holding, cuddling, caressing your skin, cradling your face, standing too close to you) to the point where it’s overstimulating and claustrophobic. He won’t stop even if you’re in tears begging him to let go of you or back up a little or if you’re clearly hyperventilating.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

More than willing. He’s very passionate about killing someone in your name, more than for He Who Walks. To him, the sooner he kills the person the better. He likes giving people slow and torturous deaths.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Once again, the equivalent to abduction is the aftermath of killing the adults. The first hour after they’re all gone Micah is quite a bit manic with you. He does this long preaching rant with you about how no one can come between you now, that you are finally all his, how you’re soulmates, etc. After all of that madness you are cursed to witness and endure, he’ll act like his previous self with you again, just more touchy and obsessive, a lot more touchy and obsessive.

The closest Micah would get to mocking you is if you cry for too long.

“Come ON now darling! I am sick of your whining!”

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Yes, but Micah always likes to think that it’s not against your will. He’s so delusional that he believes that when he’s forcing something on you or you to do something, he’s just giving you a small nudge into doing something you deep down do want. Also a few things he does against your will he will do slowly and steadily throughout time, slowly leading you away from the thing he doesn’t want you to do anymore.

Micah invades your privacy a lot too. Stealing your stuff, going/looking through your things even though you’ve yelled at him to stop. He’s a major Peeping Tom as well. Less looking into your window and more not leaving the room when you tell him to when you want to change. He forces kisses on you too, with tongue. He doesn’t force sex on you though, he’s mastered seducing you into it (but it sometimes falls into dub-con).

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He’s an open book with you. In fact, sometimes he overshares a little too much. He’s one of those people who blatantly and casually trauma dumps, (he had a physically abusive father so there’s a lot to unpack with him). He’ll sometimes bring himself to tears while going on one of his long tangents about how much he loves you. Even though he’s very vulnerable with you about his emotions, he’s not always honest with you. Well, he doesn’t lie to you, he just keeps a lot of secrets from you and hides a lot of stuff from you. Overall you’re not always in the loop with his plans.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He’s confused and tired of it. He’s a bit delusional about how this all affects you and how you don’t want to be with him. He’s one of those annoying guys who babies you when you’re trying to physically hurt him, he’ll wrap his arms around you and not let go as you squirm and kick in between his hugging arms. He’ll talk over your curses toward him.

“Why are you fighting me?! We could be so happy if you would just stop fighting me!”

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He does not consider it a game, and if it is a game he’s not having fun at all. He does not enjoy watching you try to escape. It frustrates and upsets him. When you are returned back to him you will be getting quite a loud earful about how ungrateful you are, how disappointed he is in you, why would you want to abandon him, etc.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

He sacrificed your parents right in front of you. You crumbled to your knees, sobbing hysterically, before he forced you to stand and kept a painful grip on your biceps to keep you close to him. He loudly and passionately declared his devoted love in your face as you uncontrollably bawled your eyes out. His speech sounded nothing but muffled to your overwhelmed ears but the few things that you understood him saying was, “There are no others to come between us!” and “Now say that you love me!”

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

I don’t think he really cares what the future holds just as long as you two are together with no more issues or problems. He’s so focused on making you accept him that he hasn’t given it much thought about what would happen after. But he does wish for marriage.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Oh my god, Micah’s by far the worst one of the four boys when it comes to jealousy. He gets jealous over all your interpersonal interactions. He gets jealous over the stupidest things. Why did you glance at that person over there? Why did you look to your feet when you were talking with that person? Were you flustered by them? Why were you even talking to them in the first place? You’re spacing out… are you thinking about someone else right now?! He should be the only person you think of!

He’s equally as bad when it’s the other way around. Why did that person walk past you? Did they try to smell your scent? Your sweet scent is for his nose only! Why did that person look at you? You are for Micah’s eyes only! His solution to his own jealousy is typically always murder but sometimes he’ll complain for hours to you, interrogating you over his suspicions.

Kisses: What exactly made them fall for their darling?

How nice and gentle you were with him. Sticking by him and proving that you genuinely do care about him and his feelings.

Love story: How did they meet their darling? How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

You resided in Hemingford when the Gatlin kids were moved there after their town’s mysterious tragedy. Your mom was friends with the Bed and Breakfast owner who took in Micah, so you ended up meeting him over breakfast. You’d never admit it but you had a bit of a savior complex with him, seeing him so despondent and lonely. You quickly befriended him and sooner than later, almost overnight, he returned back to normal. It was easy for his crush on you to form then evolve to him falling deep in love, becoming hopelessly lovesick. His way of pursuing you was taking fast baby steps in trying to make your friendship something more like opening up more and seeking you out to spend time with you. It was almost natural that you two ended up in a romantic relationship. Until he ruined it by his absurdly concerning behaviors.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes. With the cult he’s intuitive, self-composed, assertive, and has no time for shit. But when he’s with you it’s like he loses his dignity. He loses his self-restraints and becomes perverse. But thankfully he’s not like that all the time, the other times he’s relatively calm and acts more like a casually normal boyfriend.

Nemesis: Who do they consider a rival?

Anyone who looks at you. I’m not kidding. Micah can’t even stand the sight of you merely standing next to someone else, can’t even stomach the thought that others share air with you. He has that mindset where only he can look at you, only he can talk to you, only he can think about you. And he is absolutely the only one who can touch you or go near you. He wants you all to himself. Absolutely no one on the planet can have you and he would rather set fire to the beloved cornfield than share you with anyone. But specifically, he sees adults as the biggest threat. There’s always an adult trying to come between you and separate you for your sake. Just another reason as to why he needs to get rid of all them.

Obsession: Are they more obsessive or possessive?

Micah is by far the most obsessive of all four boys. He is needy, bigoted, fervid, and so delusional that it’s erotomania. He is so unhealthily obsessed with you and hyper fixated on you that his overwhelming attraction to you is practically his whole personality. His obsession with you is compulsive and he has lost any control over it, happily just accepting it. You preoccupy his mind intrusively to a troubling extent and he’s addicted to every little thing about you: the thought of you, the sight of you, the smell of you, the taste of you, everything about you. He is so obsessed with you that it sometimes brings him to tears; he is utterly lovesick. He really needs to see a doctor.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He’s surprisingly very patient with you. It typically benefits him in the end. Like when he waits for you to finish your tantrum and now all your energy is drained, then he gets to cuddle you without you struggling against him and trying to push him away. His patience is almost like a manipulation tactic in a way. And since he’s so delusional, he’s convinced that you do love him deep down but you’re just in denial.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you die, Micah would be a tragically heartbroken mess. Bawling his eyes out while hopelessly clinging onto your limp body. He would never move on. In fact, he would find a way to resurrect you since this is the Children of the Corn universe. I think he would make a deal with He Who Walks Behind The Rows, your soul in exchange for a whole sacrificed town. Either that or he will off himself.

Micah would never allow you to leave him. You would tell him your reasons for wanting to end the relationship and he would guilt trip the hell out of you and go on this long ass rant consisting of the lines “am I not good enough for you?”, “I cannot breathe without you, do you wish me to die?”, “I’ve given you everything that I could, and it’s still not enough for you”, “after everything I’ve been through, don’t I deserve to be happy too?!”. Even when you don’t consider him your boyfriend anymore, that won’t matter to him at all. His behaviors would not change and he will act the same exact way he did when you were together, except maybe a little worse.

If you somehow successfully escaped, Micah would never move on. He is obsessed. He would hunt you down and would never, ever stop. He would track you down for years on end if he had to. With the corn and the cult on his side, it wouldn’t be a surprise if you were eventually caught and dragged right back to where you started, back in Micah’s arms.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

His guilt is barely at the minimum. Even though he’s insanely delusional, he’s not blind or stupid. He does indeed notice how unhappy you are and always tries to make you feel better, unknowingly making it worse. But he’s never considered or thought about freeing you from the thing that’s making you miserable, himself.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

When he was abused by his father he always thought that the world was saving him something amazing in the future after all of the pain and suffering. He was always a little too obsessed with that concept, clinging to it through every beating. And He Who Walks possessing a part of him also prompted this side of him even more.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Micah hates it and feels like it’s a personal attack. When you scream or cry he’ll get super close to you, so close that you panic and feel claustrophobic/suffocated which makes you cry even more, and try to hold you as an attempt to make you feel better. He just makes it worse though but he’s oblivious to that fact. If you isolate yourself from him that’s when he’ll grow angry and manic, screaming at you and going on a long, loud tangent preach about how you’re meant to be together.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Not that I can really think of other than that he exposes his calm/normal side of himself to you more than most yanderes.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

With the right choice of words you can exploit his abusive past with his father. You have to use the right words though, like be very careful with your wording. So it really just depends on how manipulative you can or are willing to be. Your freedom depends on it.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He doesn’t like hurting you at all, but he has given you a few slaps across the face while claiming that you forced his hand.

“Look at what you made me do!”

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He fanatically adores you, like he is physically on his knees worshiping you, worshiping every inch of your skin. He would go to extreme lengths to win you over, from murder to straight up begging.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He pines for a couple of days, maybe a little over a week, before he starts getting creepy and weird with you. He officially snaps when you try to leave him.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Never. He doesn’t even consider it an option but he sometimes threatens it against you to scare you into doing something. But he would never do it. Why would he drain the personality he’s unhealthily obsessed with? He’s too convinced (and delusional) that you will someday return his love.

Bonus: What do others think of their relationship with their darling? Do they try to interfere or intervene?

Before you were exposed to or aware of Micah’s true intentions with you, you were quite defensive when people would question your relationship. Most of the adults in Hemingford that didn’t trust the Gatlin kids tried to urge you to stay away from their crowd or that you shouldn’t be hanging around Micah. You would angrily argue in Micah’s defense that he’s been through a lot and they should leave him alone. You heavily regret ignoring their warnings as now none of them are left alive to save you now. And all of the cult kids don’t care about Micah’s intense infatuation with you, only wanting you to join them.

~

Eli

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Eli’s love language is really just quality time. Before he revealed his true colors and just put up the innocent and charming facade, he showed his affection verbally about what he felt for you through words that made you swoon and flustered. But once the act dropped he only used those romancing words to mock you or emotionally manipulate you. His love is really only shown through his clinginess and how he refuses to be away from you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Very willing. He’s meticulous when it comes to getting rid of someone and plans out each and every death, making sure each one gets their deserved pain. He does most of his killings behind your back but certainly does not keep it as a secret, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t up to slaughter someone in front of you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Unlike the first three boys, Eli is the only one to actually abduct you. But it’s not like you’re held captive in a basement, you can still roam wherever you want but you just have to basically be Eli’s shadow or him be yours. He won’t bother putting up the soft and charming act anymore so you’re just now more exposed to how much of an evil asshole he can be. He only mocks you if you try to escape.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Of course. He really thinks he doesn’t need your permission or approval to do anything. But specifically he forces you into assisting him in his immoral plans.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He’s a little nightmare. He’s always keeping you on your toes and can never guess how he’s feeling or what he’s thinking. You can only get a close to accurate guess to his thoughts or feelings if you do or say something that catches him off guard. So if you couldn’t already tell, he doesn’t get very vulnerable with you. He sees it as a sign of weakness and he’ll never lower himself to that level. He’s smug and arrogant and likes playing mind games with you to keep you off the scent of his secret thoughts/feelings. Or he just wants you to figure him out all on your own. Like he makes you play detective just to find out about his past. It’s exhausting.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

It’s where he gets some of his entertainment. He knows there is no possible chance of you overpowering him so he finds it cutely pathetic when you try to. He’ll catch your punches and attempted slaps and laugh. He loves how fiesty you are and how you scream at him to let you go and how you wished he would drop dead, you’re so cute when you’re mad and fearful.

He especially loves it when you bring weapons into it. You’re so sure that you’re going to kill him that he can’t help but encourage you.

“Alright then. Come over here and stab me in my chest. Defeat me and end all your suffering. I’m the source of all your problems so go ahead.”

You’re absolutely mortified when you learn through experience that he cannot be killed.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Eli loves games. And your little pathetic attempts of escape are one of his favorites. He finds it cute how naive and hopeful you are. Trying to escape from him is like walking through a haunted house. First he’s right behind you, then he’s gone, then you see his shadow on the far wall, then he’s jumping out at you, and you can swear his voice and shadow are on two opposite sides of the hall. He jumpscares you and loves giving you mini heart attacks. It’s going to be so bad you’re going to wish you never tried to escape in the first place. He also likes playing mind games with you, making you think you have a chance then takes it away when you’re a hair away from it. Like you’re about to open the door to make a run for it, into the public, and he’ll appear and be smug and cocky.

“Go ahead, open the door. Escape your living nightmare once and for all.”

You’ll open the door and boom he’s on the other side of it. And lastly, he fucks with your mind and makes you hallucinate that you did escape just to break it and reveal that you never left.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

It was the first time you were truly exposed to what Eli was capable of. It was when you became fully aware of Eli’s massacre plan and you got into a huge fight. Naively believing that the little cornfield he grew in the abandoned warehouse was the main source of his powers, you grabbed garden shears and ran over to cut it all down. You heard Eli slowly and calmly approach you from behind and once you turned to look at him he roughly shoved you into the center of the garden. Once you hit the dirt and stood back up you had realized you were in an entirely different place, a massive sized cornfield. You walked for hours as Eli tormented you. You would hear his laugh right by your ear but he was nowhere near you, corpses reached from the dirt to try and grab your legs, and it was as if the corn was alive and closing in on you as well as grabbing onto you temporarily. The third time you broke down while crying out for Eli and begging for his forgiveness and how you swore you would never go against him again, is when Eli finally appeared and took you in his arms and magically pulled you out of the cornfield and back to the warehouse. You clung onto him while sobbing before glancing up to see him sinisterly smirking down at you. It was then you finally felt the true fear of what Eli was.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Although he adores your little game of cat and mouse and how much you struggle and fight, in his ideal future he does want you to eventually love him back so that the two of you can live your immortal lives happily in love in a world of no adults. You’d probably live back in Gatlin surrounded by corn.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Eli’s clingy a ridiculous amount, as well as possessive, and wants you all to himself so jealousy is a frequent thing for him. He’s like a toddler with their favorite toy; insanely greedy, won’t let anyone touch it, “no it’s mine, mine, mine!”. He just gets so mad that you’re more happy with others than with him and seem to enjoy their company more than his. What do they have that Eli doesn’t?! They’re pathetic and weak! Even though the rage burns like hellfire inside him, he goes about it calmly. You two will either be sitting next to each other in silence or be back to back in bed at night and his typical smugness will drop, coldly bringing up how he forbids you from talking to the person. He acts just like a scorned wife. But later he’ll kill that very same person, just to be sure the two of you can never interact again.

Kisses: What exactly made them fall for their darling?

Your care about the earth you live on.

Love story: How did they meet their darling? How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

His adopted “mother” and his brother encouraged him to join a club to make some friends. The only club he was interested in was the gardening club. You were its only member. Not many city kids cared about gardening but that just gave the two of you more alone, one on one, time. At first, he originally planned to only use you for your garden to grow more of his brainwashing corn but the more you spent time together the more interested and attached to you he was. When he accepted that he was more than attracted to you, that's when he started to make moves on you. It was all quite casual as he just used his natural charm and did subtle flirting, and sooner than later you were caught in his web.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

You’re envious of others who don’t know what he’s really like. With others he puts up this innocent, ingenuous, charming act (the same act he used to woo you and lure you in). Sometimes he’ll pretend to be like that with you but majority of the time you’re exposed to how cruel and wicked he truly is.

Nemesis: Who do they consider a rival?

Eli is overly possessive, ridiculously jealous, and unbearably clingy. So he’ll see basically anyone as a rival if they get too close to you or look at you for too long. Especially every single one of your friends. Also anyone who poses a threat to your relationship with the intention of splitting the two of you up for your safety; teachers, social workers, friends, family, that damn priest. But he shuts it down before those people become a problem.

Obsession: Are they more obsessive or possessive?

He is wildly possessive. He is excessively clingy and wants you all for himself, your attention needs to always be on him and he’s a total brat when it’s not. He’s proprietorial, controlling, and eliminates anyone who poses a threat in separating you two. He owns you and acts like you are his territory.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He has all the time in the world so you are very lucky that he isn’t impatient.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you died, Eli’s resurrecting you somehow. I don’t believe he even wants to think about what he would do if you died. Since he’s immortal, he’s aware that age would slowly take you from him so he would find a way to make you immortal as well (even if you’re begging him not to do it).

If you left him, he wouldn’t worry all that much or even beg you to willingly stay like the others would. He would use emotional manipulation to guilt trip you into staying. And if that doesn’t work then he would simply work his demon magic and scare you right back into his arms. He doesn’t care that he’s using fear to keep you with him.

It would be extremely hard to escape Eli, and even harder to stay escaped from him. I actually think it’d be impossible due to the fact he’s a literal demon. So no matter where you go, where you hide, how long you run, Eli will always catch up to you and will always find you. So in hindsight, there is no escaping Eli. I'm truly sorry for you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No to both. It’s never even crossed his mind.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Being an independent demon for so long and not knowing how to deal with romantic emotions.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He finds it all quite funny.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Even though he’s extremely clingy, he’s not very touchy and gives less than the average-yandere amount of physical affection, he’s not even that big of a hand holder (but this is all kind of a plus for you since you don’t have to worry about non-consensual touching or forcing affection with you). He’s content with just being near you and having you always by his side.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

I think the only thing you could ever use against him is his Bible. Unless you suck up to him enough to make him slip out a secret weakness, it will take awhile though. But it’s mostly his bible, he doesn’t even like you looking at it which just makes you more suspicious of why he’s so defensive about it.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He doesn’t need to. He uses fear to control you and all he has to do is use his mind powers to shake your surroundings to scare you into obeying. His touches are nothing but soft and gentle.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He admires you more than he worships you. His worship is closer to how a scientist would obsessively study an animal, dedicating their life to observing it. He truly thinks you’re the most fascinating, interesting human. He doesn’t really bother with actively trying to win you over, you are his now because he said so and he does not care if you don’t feel the same.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Like Micah, he snaps when you try to leave him.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Nah. He likes how human you are, how fragile and sensitive and reactive you are. It’s entertaining to him and he knows you’re enough to keep him entertained for centuries. He knows that you’ll grow to love him, you’re stuck with him for eternity after all. And if you really never don’t… well then that’s just gonna suck for you.

Bonus: What do others think of their relationship with their darling? Do they try to interfere or intervene?

The bystanders feel bad for you. Those who haven’t had enough interactions with Eli and only see his sweet and charming act can still see as clear as glass that you are not happy in the relationship, or as happy as you should be, which makes them grow to be suspicious of what Eli is like behind closed doors. And those who are already suspicious of Eli are confused as to why you’re around him so much but after awhile of noticing how fast your smile drops when Eli’s not looking is when they would try to subtly put space between you. Eli always notices right away, being so clingy that he’s sensitive to even being in a different room than you, and always makes sure those people don’t try that ever again. People would reach out to you privately but you would assure them you’re fine and end the conversation quickly out of fear of what Eli would do to either of you if he found out about your exchange.

[alastair-1205]

Episode 14 reactions

FALSHBACK 2

WITH KAI AND JAY

Damn this is just mean to Cole sepcifically lol

LMAO THE SHOW AGREES

I mean he’s not wrong but why are we seeing this I wonder?

Awwwwww 

CAN SHE PLZ BE LIKE A LITTLE MORE SAD??? I LOVE THIS SHOW BUT I NEED NYA TO BE AS AGONIZED AS JAY ONCE WAS MAN 

Yea I don’t think to was the real him. But someone might be messing with Nya

Arin :(

I still think it was Ras

FLASHBACK 3 WITH PARENTS

He misses his mom man :(

Oh that looks like a trap

…did Frack do it? Is Frack evil? Or is he a red hearing 

I’m probably getting played but I don’t trust Frack man

Lmaoooo she has a crush what a nerd

I think Robie likes her back. It’s kinda cute lol

LMAO ARIN. True tho

THEY ARE GAY

I want them to be married so fucking and man

WHO’S WATCHING UR CHILDREN GUYS 

They’re on a dateeeeee

LILY MENTION I CAN DIE HAPPY 

LOOK AT HOW THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHERRRRR

AND THE MOTM THEME PLAYING TOO 

I’m normal I swear 

More Jordana!

She’s got issuesssss

OH I FUCKING KNEW IT 

“I wouldn’t lie to you Arin” IS A CRAZYYYY LINE MAN 

Ok Nya praying is a cool detail to add actually 

KAI AND BONZEL

Ooooooo possession mechanics my beloved 

That’s so interesting actually I wanna see more of them

FUCK YOU CINDER

No pressure to anything lmao

Idk man I think Wyldfyre has a point here. It’s not like it’d be cheating….

ZANE MY BELOVED

Lmao I love him sm

Zane you have saved the world like 16 times you’ll be fine 

He better not get out first I stg-

Beckt is so fucking done lmao

BOOOOOOOOOO

Zane’s having flashbacks rn 

Zane I love you, but excessive force is kinda ur guys’ whole thing. I respect the sentiment tho.

I DIDNT THINK THEY’D ACTUALLY DO IT

THE TOX CARD WAS A MISDIRECT THOSE BASTARDS 

EVEN GEO’S FUCKING CONFUSED 

Lloyd is remarkably shill about this

YEA THATS UR BESTIE COLE

Geo is lowkey more devastated than the ninja lmaooooo

He relates to the lovers agony ig

Oh this is still actually sad man

NOT JAY ROASTING HER TECHNIQUE LMAO

Rip to the audience watching this fucking soap opera

YES HE IS AGENT WALKER 

So I’m guessing that convo with Bonzel inspired him to escape 

Holy fuck they actually did that to him

BADASS JAY FOR LIKE 1 MINUTE I CONSIDER THIS A WIN

I like how only the kids are cheering :(

Making Nya use lighting is actually so tragic I fucking love it 

OH THE WAY JAYS VOICE SOUNDED ON THAT LINE

I’m normal and not at all deranged about Jay Walker. Not at all

OH SHIT

RIYU POSSESION TIME? LOL??

THEYRE GONNA KNOW BONZELS ALIVE YAY