#it took 4-ish hours and now i feel like jelly

[im-thinking-arson]

I have adverse reactions to conventional hair-care products but today I decided to use my SO's tea tree & mint shampoo and conditioner so I can feel something: cooling tingle (now) and regret (later).

[lex-n-weegie]

HEY YOU 4

YEAH, @nerdstreak, @candyheartedchy, @magicalselfshipping, and @queenieboo22

MERRY HECKING CHRISTMAS!!!!

Surprise!!! I thought I'd make a special little Christmas gift for you 4!! It took me about 6 hours total, I really hope you like it!!

And ofc, here's everyone separately!!

I would have drawn more people, but unfortunately I only got the idea to do this yesterday and this drawing alone took me so long 😭

I refuse to leave them unthanked however!! So, special thanks to @ava-ships, @spooky-toastsnew, @jelly-buttons, @widowsdarling, @sapient-nes, and of course all of my followers, just for being here and being inspiring to me.

I actually wanted to do little special messages for you guys, but I'ma do that under the cut because it's gonna get loooong haha

Nerdstreak

About the drawing: I decided to draw Hannah working on DEL!! Right now she's trying to make sure it looks all good before seeing how the face projection goes. And yes, the background is a moon with a light blue hue. Gotta include your husband in it somehow!! I do hope that the glasses don't look off, I've never drawn glasses like them before haha.

About you: Gosh, where do I even begin? You've been so so SO inspiring to me during the whole time I've known you!! You got me into selfshipping, you've recently(ish) helped me finish a while story, something I've NEVER done before, and you've helped me with countless drawings and even a few s/i designs! Not to mention that you've been a great friend, and helped me with a situation I was puzzled with. You truly are amazing and inspiring, don't forget that!! I'm really happy we're friends, it makes me feel better about myself. I was so shy talking to others, but now I'm friends with so many of the folks I look up to. Little me would be so happy :)

Candyheartedchy

About the drawing: I was thinking about doing your bug bunny s/i, or your Scratch s/i, hell I even considered your new Mario s/i (as I am hyperfixated on the franchise lol), but in the end I went with the one who you seemed to be thinking about a lot rn. And btw, I love her design so much!! It's so simple yet so eye catching. I decided to do a small little callback to a small story you wrote with her and Fethery(def spelled his name wrong), a story of how they first met. She's sitting on the beach with an easel, trying to think of what she wants to paint. I also specifically 1. Put 2 seagulls in the back to represent the couple :) and 2. Put the clouds around her head, as if she's got her head in the clouds. I also remembered that pink is your favorite color, soooo pink beach! Also I hope the eyes are okay, I somewhat struggled 😭

About you: Okay so. Hi. You barely know me haha, but I've been seeing your art for a long time thanks to people reblogging it. Took me a bit to follow, but man was it worth it. Your art is just...so, SO pretty and beautiful!! It makes me feel all soft and relaxed, not to mention me awwing or laughing when you draw your selfships!! (I mean laughing as in you doing something funny, not me like thinking your selfship is funny- you get what I mean right???) I aspire to be similar to you some day!! Especially in the drawing comics area, each time I try I can only get to page 2 😔

Magicalselfshipping

About the drawing: I soooorta tried to so a special spin with the hair, which I hope is okay!! I wanted it to be spikey but soft at the same time, representing that while she lives in a villain castle, she's actually pretty kind. Also I AM SO SORRY I FORGOT THE EYEBROWS BUT IT'S WAY TOO LATE FOR ME TO ADD THEM NOW AND LIKE AAAAAA. Also, I believe that once you said that Kamek taught you magic, so I figured that yours would end up looking similar to his!! I also designed the background with him in mind, doing his little magic pattern and coloring it blue and a (almost) white, but like his robes and hat!

About you: Okay so 1. Mario Selfshipper hell freaking yeah 2. I was actually a little...rude at first I guess. I saw what you identified as, and I was admittedly sceptical. But I put some thought into it, looked at that one ask you answered, and looked it up. You kinda helped me be even more open minded, and for that, I thank you. Also, I never even thought of someone selfshipping with a blue little wizard, but seeing yours with him is so cute!! Especially since you've loved him for a long, long time, like me and Weegee!! I also enjoy your art, it's unique and I enjoy seeing it!!

Queenieboo22

About the drawing: I def wanted the spooky Queen to have a spooky vibe, so I made her as spooky as I could without it being full out horror. The hair curls may look odd, and I'm sorry about that, but I was trying my best to make them look like the Dark Moon from Luigi's Mansion 2, just in hair form!! I also made the shadow part of the background a slight blue, for your king ofc. And you know I HAD to add some boos!! I did put a bit more white in the middle however, as I have the small hc that Boos softly glow when in the dark, like a night light!!

About you: Oh my GOD your art is so freaking good!!!! Like holy crap!!!! You can make such super complicated designs and just, draw them over and over, perfectly!!! It's so insane and awesome!!! I still treasure that b-day gift you made me it's so goooooood. Also, you're just so sweet!! Like, super duper sweet!! You're so kind and caring and welcoming, it's awesome!! Also, anyone who loves spooky/creepy things is automatically like 100% cooler. You also inspire me with my art and s/is, hell my newest FNAF SB s/i, Evelyn, was somewhat inspired by your FNAF s/i! Your s/is are so unique, yet they fit in perfectly in any universe you put them in. I wanna be more like that myself!! Also, I'm happy we're friends, I still look up to you a lot and it's still so cool to me that I'm friends with people I look up to.

[carl-grimxz]

Confused Feelings- Part 4

Carl Grimes x Reader

Part 4

Summary: The group move into the farm and plan to settle in and relax for the night, but when something happens that puts them in danger, Y/N’s feelings are seriously put into perspective.

Word Count: 3,654

Warnings: Possibly near death???

A/N: Things get serious in this one guys, real talk... emotions are heightened and this was a fun one to write! I’m glad to see a few people are liking this series, I may have to carry on doing even more in the future, depending on how these next couple go!!! Enjoy :D

It was dark now which made it hard to know exactly what the farm looked like, but it seemed cool. I’m just happy that we’re gonna be relatively safe for the night. Especially with that fence up.

It was a small farm, well… it looked more like a large-ish house that happened to have a field and stables. Somehow I have a good feeling about this place though. We all walked up the steps and through the porch that appeared to run the length of the house and entered through the white painted front door.

Before long, we had lit some torches and had enough light to see more clearly. We had entered into a large living room, complete with couches, a bookshelf, an old TV that obviously wouldn’t work and other usual stuff that you’d find in a room like this. I looked around and realised most of the ground floor was open plan. An average sized kitchen right off of the living area.

“Looks pretty decent” Michonne acknowledged.

We were all exhausted and so didn’t say much before we moved straight to settling in. Very quickly, Carol had some canned food ready to eat and we were all sat around on the couches eating. Well, actually there’s too many of us to all fit on the couches so Carl, Rosita, Sasha, Glenn and I sat on the floor to eat. We didn’t mind though. The atmosphere was really relaxing.

There was quiet conversation as we ate, and I decided to see what Carl thought of this place so far. I always value his opinion.

“So…” I spoke up, nudging him “You like it here?”

He glanced at me and then back to his can to load some more tomatoes in his mouth.

“Well I mean, we’ve been here less than an hour…” He smirked

I rolled my eyes. He knew what I meant.

“…But yeah. I like it so far.” He smiled. “I get a good feeling about this place”.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Rick cut in, addressing the whole group. 

“I know it’s been tough recently…” He sighed. We all felt that. “Really tough. But I’m proud of every single one of you for staying strong and pushing through. It’s hard, I get it. But I want you to know that we will make it. We’re a family. We always will be”.

Everyone was deep in thought. No doubt thinking over everything we’ve had to endure to get here. Carl turned to me and gave me a knowing smile. I returned it.

“Your dad’s right” It was near a whisper that left my mouth.

“I know”, he nodded his head in thought.

Our eyes were back on Rick. 

“I think this could be the place. The one we’ve been looking for. Somewhere we can call home and not only survive… but thrive” Rick had a grin on his face. Almost getting emotional over what could be.

“It can be”, Michonne added. She always supported him, it was very sweet.

“Amen to that” Abraham cheered, lifting his glass of wine that they were pleased to find in the kitchen.

All of a sudden there was a low grumble that could be heard. It was faint, but there was no doubt on anyones minds what it could be. 

Walkers.

We looked around at each other. Slight panic in our faces, we were caught off gaurd, trying to decide our next move. The mood had changed in an instant.

“That’s outside” Carol directed at Rick “Doesn’t sound that far away!”

Rick rushed to the undrawn windows and peaked outside. A faint look of fear emerged on his face.

“Oh my god” Glenn gasped, standing at another window. “There’s loads of them! Where did they come from?”

Carl and I exchanged glances. I could tell he was slightly scared and so was I. He seemed to edge closer to me, making me feel a little better. We all had our weapons drawn.

“We’re gonna have to face them head on. Can’t let them get too close”, Rick acknowledged while pacing.

He marched towards Carl and I.

“Tyreese has got Judith-“

“Dad don’t tell us to stay in here. We’re gonna help fight!” Carl looked at me for support. We’ve always wanted Rick to trust us more with this kind of thing. I nodded quickly, knowing we didn’t have much time for persuasion.

Rick looked between the both of us, reading our faces. I could tell he was trying to make up his mind.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes” I answered matter of factly, while checking how many bullets I had in my gun.

Now Carl nodded.

“Ok c’mon then”

Rick led us all outside. The walkers got louder once they saw us, close to tearing down the fences.

“Stay in formation. Don’t let them get too close and use knives if you can. We don’t wanna draw any more in”, we all starting to spread out when Rick grabbed our attention again “Hey… Be careful.”

With that we all headed towards the snarling monsters. I thought I’d be a lot more afraid than I actually feel. What with what happened before. But now I’m here and it matters. I know I’ll be ok. 

I looked at Carl as we strode towards them and he nodded. That was all I needed.

There were loads of them. At least thirty. This would be tough but we can manage.

I lost sight of everyone else. Even Carl. I knew they were there, fighting the fight with me. But I was focused on the task at hand.

I neared a walker and raised my arm at the ready, knife in hand. At this point I grew weary realising that the thing coming towards me was actually extremely tall. Much taller than me. It would be hard to get its head while it’s still upright, so I thought quickly. I took a slight run up and kicked its right knee cap. With a struggle it fell to the floor and began crawling at me instead, hands fighting to grab me. Without a second thought I plunged my knife in and out of it’s skull with force and it ceased all movement instantly. 

I had managed to kill a good three or four when I heard gunshots and a struggle to my left. There weren’t many walkers left at this point and I thought it was going quite well. That is until I saw what the commotion was about.

At the other end of the field. There was Carl, underneath a walker. 

He was struggling to keep it from sinking its teeth into his flesh. Carl had both hands holding the walker up and I couldn’t see his gun or knife. The others were busy with their own walkers and couldn’t help, but I had already made the decision.

I started running as fast as my legs could carry me, like this was the only thing that mattered. It was. I was panicking, more than I ever have before. Even above the time that it was me in Carls position. That was nothing compared to how I felt right now. If his hands slip… If he loses strength for even a split second… he’d be gone. I couldn’t bare it.

“Hang on!” I screamed at the top of my lungs 

In my hurry I run straight into another walker of my own. No time for this. No time for knives. I knew Rick would judge me for using my gun but being quiet was not my highest priority. I sent a bullet straight through the walkers skull and pushed it away as it fell towards me. 

I tripped slightly, either over my own feet or the walker. I fought not to fall, trying to be quick, and remained upright still trying to get to Carl as fast as I could. I should have stayed by his side. Idiot. Why did he have to be so far away?

“Hang on Carl!” I became fearful, shooting another walker that was nearing him. Nearly there. 

I was so close now.

I see the walkers teeth. They sink into Carls shirt right at his neck. 

“CARL!!” I screamed a gut-wrenching scream in complete and utter horror.

I wasn’t quick enough.

He still fought with the thing that had proved just too strong for him. He was bit. He must have been. I could feel myself falling apart. Legs turning to jelly as I neared him.

Carl pushed back with all his might, only making the monster more aggressive. My heart was pounding in my chest and in my throat, everywhere. It felt like it was being ripped from my body. Struggling to fight back tears, I carried on. I had to get to him.

I was there. 

At great force from the speed at which I was travelling I kicked the monster off of him. Taking all of my anger out on it. Off of the boy that I now knew for sure meant more to me than anything. It rolled over unwillingly, attempting to get back up. All of the other walkers were dead now. In the corner of my eyes I could see everyone make their way over, trying to work out what was happening from behind me.  I was overcome by a rage that I had never felt before.

I wasn’t going to let this thing get back up. One shot in the chest, and another and another, continually until Sasha tried to pull me back, I fought her off to send one final bullet through the centre of the beasts head. Tears were now streaming down my face.

I escaped Sashas arms, ignoring her completely. I stumbled and fell to the floor, landing beside Carl.

“It bit you!” I cried in disbelief as I pulled at his shirt collar trying to examine him as he laid there.

“No Y/N, I’m fine!” His eyes were wide grabbing at my wrists, restraining me “I’m ok! It didn’t get me! It just got my shirt” He tried desperately to calm me, out of breath himself from trying to fight the thing off. 

He’s ok? He wasn’t bit.

“You’re ok?” I whimpered as if I needed him to say it again, to convince me. I was so sure that he was gone. I was truly sobbing now. Everyone was silent as they observed, and Carl had a look on his face that I had never seen before. He was shocked by my reaction.

“Yes” he exhaled, relieved, still attempting to calm me. “Yeah, I’m fine!” He sat up slightly and his arms traveled up to grip my shoulders. My eyes scanned over his body for any sign of a bite. No blood. Nothing, except a scratch across his face. He will be ok.

“Oh my-“ I spluttered, not even able to get my words out. I have never cried this hard. Ever. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even breath. He was so close to being gone forever.

He pulled me into his chest hard and I clung to him for dear life, scared to let go. He held me firmly, as close to him as physically possible and my face sank into his neck.

“Carl I-“ I still struggled to get any words out while I bawled, tears soaking the flannel covering his shoulder. My chin trembled as if I was a child. 

“It’s ok. I’m right here, I’m alright”. Carl spoke tenderly attempting to pacify me.

-

I honestly didn’t remember much of what took place next. I know we made our way inside, but it was all a bit of a blur. Something had come over me out there. When I thought I’d lost him… something in me broke. Now it was like my mind was working double time to try and fix the pieces back together again.

But now I know… It took almost losing Carl to realise.

I’m already in love with him.

All this time I’ve spent trying to suppress my feelings before they got too strong. It was pointless, because it’s too late. They already exist, and I can’t do anything about them. He never leaves my mind, he’s always there. Carl Grimes is my one steady force, my one stability in a world filled with chaos and death and darkness. I so desperately need him in my life. I can’t believe I’m only now realising it… But I’m still afraid. Too afraid.

Nobody even mentioned my outburst of emotion that took place outside. I think they found it easier on all of us to carry on as normal. Most of the group were in the living area downstairs as they talked about what to do next, with the dead walkers and the damaged fence, that kind of thing. I sensed that they were trying to give Carl and I some space after it all. I hadn’t left his side.

We were in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs. There were quite a few bedrooms actually, enough to fit us all at least. Carol was seeing to the scratch on his cheek that he had obtained from the fight. They were sat on the bed, while I was in a chair in the corner of the room, watching her tend to the wound.

I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.  In all honesty I felt like a coward right now. At this point everyone must know how I feel about him, including Carl, but I’m sat here now too frightened to even sit with him. 

“Ok”, Carol stood up still looking at Carl, “I’ve cleaned it and it’s not so bad. I don’t think you need anything on it, just leave it to heal and it’ll be fine Carl”, she smiled at him.

“Thanks” I couldn’t see his face. He had his back to me.

“No problem, I’m just glad you’re ok” Carol walked towards the door a little. “I’ll um… give you two some space… some time to talk” She looked at me now, smiling only slightly, and giving me a knowing look. Like she felt for me or something. Then she was gone, closing the door gently behind her.

Carl turned around to face me, hoping for me to say something I think. His face was expressionless, but my heart sank a little to see the scratch on his face that ran a couple of inches down from his cheek bone.

I anxiously stood up and closed the gap between us, taking a seat on the bed next to him. We exchanged looks of sadness, and my hand went up to rest on his injured cheek carefully. He looked me in the eyes while I examined the space under my fingers, being careful not to touch the actual scratch itself. I didn’t want to hurt him.

“Does it hurt?” I asked quietly as my hand went back down to my lap.

“No it’s fine. I can barely feel it” It sounded like he was trying hard to convince me, not wanting me to worry.

I nodded. “Carl I’m so glad you’re ok” my voice trembled and I could feel my whole face battling to let out more tears. I composed myself and managed to fight them back down, before they escaped. 

“I know, me too” he nodded and leant over to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I looked him straight in the eyes, trying desperately to work out what he was thinking… what he was feeling. We hadn’t spoken at all since coming back inside.

“Y/N I can’t…” He sighed “We have to stop this. I can’t do it anymore” Carl sighed again and dropped his head down in his hands briefly in frustration.

“What?” I couldn’t say it.

“We both know…” He urged me to help him out but I couldn’t. I just can’t say it out loud.

I shook my head, avoiding eye contact all together.

Carl took hold of both of my hands and so I had to look at him.

“You know it, and so do I.” He was starting to sound desperate in his attempts to get me to admit to him what he clearly already knows. He put my hands down and gathered his thoughts. “There is something- I don’t know what but me and you… We aren’t just friends and you know it. I know it isn’t all just in my head”. 

Carl wanted me to confess, but I couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“Y/N say something. Tell me you feel the same way.” He looked at me earnestly, waiting.

It broke my heart. I wish I could give in but right now my fear of the possibility of losing him somewhere along the line is greater than my hankering to be with him. It hurts but I can’t.

I picked up his left hand and gave it a tight squeeze with the both of mine. I smiled looking into his beautiful blue eyes and a couple of tears finally broke loose. “I’m sorry” I said, and I meant it.

“Carl I’m sorry… but I just… I can’t” It took everything in me to tear myself away from him but I did. I let go of his hand, stood up and left the room.

As soon as I had shut the door behind me, I stood still for a second and let out a silent sob. I had my hands to my mouth so nobody would hear, and all the tears that I had been holding in for the past few minutes came pouring out, like a dam that had burst it’s banks. I saw Sasha watching from the bottom of the stairs but I couldn’t face anyone, not even her. Not right now. I wiped away the tears and moved across the hallway to another random bedroom and shut myself inside. I wanted to be alone.

-

I only cried for a few more minutes before I willed myself to pull it together. I don’t usually cry much but I’ve been doing an awful lot of it today. It hurt though, wanting something so bad but not being able to allow myself to have it. Besides, being with him  will only cause me more pain in the long term.

As I lay on the bed stuck in my own thoughts, I hear a door open and shut, and then footsteps going downstairs. That must be Carl. I’m glad he didn’t come after me. I wouldn’t know what else to say to him. 

-

Around a half hour later and I heard more footsteps coming up the stairs… and then a knock at the door. I’m nervous to find out who it is.

“Y/N it’s me” 

Sasha. 

“Can I come in please?”

I decided maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea to speak to Sasha. She’s my friend and if I’m honest, I could really use one of those right now. I get up and let her in. I immediately notice the enquiring look upon her face. There’s a hint of pity too, like she’s worried for me. She has sad eyes as she focuses on mine.

“Hey, sorry I just… I’m really tired” I don’t know why I bother, she always seems to see right through me.

“Yeah I figured” She smiled empathetically. 

“Listen if you wanna be alone that’s fine, I’ll leave but… I can stay and we can talk if you want?” She’s always been so kind to me.

“Come in” I shut the door behind her and we sat together on the bed.

She spoke up, “You’ve been crying haven’t you” It wasn’t a question, she knew I had. 

“You mean since out there?” I pointed behind me to the window “Yeah a little”. There was a tiny hint of sarcasm in my voice. I figured I might as well make a joke out of it, or I’ll likely start crying again. This hasn’t been an easy night.

She sighed “Wanna tell me why?” She cares about me I know but she’s always asking me questions about how I feel. It’s exhausting.

“You know why” I spoke softer with a more serious tone now.

“I don’t. I mean I’m gonna hazard a guess and say that it has something to do with Carl but that’s all I got.”

I didn’t say anything.

“He looked really upset when he came downstairs Y/N. He told everyone he was fine and that you went to sleep cause you were tired, but there’s more to it than that.” She pressed.

“You should have been a detective before, not a firefighter” I chuckled, although I didn’t actually find any of it funny. In fact it breaks my heart to know I’ve hurt him. I never wanted that. He even covered for me telling them I was tired and went to bed early. He was far too sweet for this world.

“I’m serious! Cut the bullshit and tell me what’s wrong. You’re not ok. Now tell me the truth.” Sasha sounded frustrated now. I don’t blame her honestly.

“Ok fine” I sighed. “He told me- well he hinted that he liked me… as more than a friend-“

“Well that’s great, what’s wrong with tha-” 

“No it’s not. I don’t… want that”

“Y/N who are you trying to kid?!” She stood up looking in shock.

“Urghh, fine I like him Sasha, but I don’t want to like him like that. I can’t be with him in that way” I laid down, rolling over to face the wall.

I let out a sigh.

She did something I didn’t expect. Sasha leant over and kissed me on the head. “I just care about you.” She sighed too, headed for the door.

“I know. I care about you too Sasha, but I’m tired of talking about it now” I really do care about her. “Goodnight”

“Goodnight Y/N”

[thepencilnerd]

Melophile | Part II

– please read part 1 if you haven’t  – (it can be found on my masterlist ^^ )

melo·phile- noun; a person with great love and affluent passion for music

➵ A piano major and a composition major collaborating for a final semester project. It seemed straightforward, right? But what if you were forced to pair up with the school’s most problematic genius, Min Yoongi? Add to that the fact that he absolutely hated your guts and you had the perfect recipe for disaster. How can someone you’ve never even met before despise you like a sworn enemy? Getting to know each other was hard enough, but what happens when the most beautiful, painful, and darkest secrets force the two of you to expose the thing you each guarded the most—your own emotions?

➵ pairing: min yoongi x reader

➵ genre: AU! enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, slow-ish burn 

➵ word count: 27k (sorry mobile readers)

➵ warnings: swearing, too much fluff, angst, discussions of depression, oral sex (m&f receiving), marking, biting, hair pulling, cumplay/eating, light impreg kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), i’m still screaming while writing these warnings bc i thought it’d pretty tame this chapter i was wrong

a/n: my longest work to date :’) i hope you all enjoyed and thank you so much for staying with me on this emotional rollercoaster <3 

Previously on part one of Melophile...

“Stop calling me that.” Each word came out through pursed lips and clamped teeth. Leaning into you so that he was directly in your line of vision, his lip curled into a smirk and his eyes flaunted a veil of malicious intent.

“Make me,” he snarled. Never in your life had two words made you more furious than at that exact moment.  

“Fuck you, Yoongi,” you spat out, face just centimeters away from his. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, I really am, okay? But you don’t know a single goddamn thing about me, so stop acting like you’re the only one who’s been hurt in the past.”

Moving closer to you in response, you felt his hot breath fan over your lips, making you lean back instinctively.

“I’m not hurt,” he pointed out with venom dripping from his voice. Leaning towards the shell of your ear, his exhaling breath tickled your neck.

“I’m broken, _____…” Yoongi growled.

“Fucking hell...” you muttered silently while pinching the bridge of your nose. Contemplating your reason for existence, you felt an unpleasant stickiness rub the inside of your thighs but ignored it as you found yourself studying the face of the sleeping figure beside you—what a great distraction to start off the day.

Yoongi’s sleeping face was the epitome of serenity. Lying on his side, his face pressed against the pillow like a marshmallow in a way that made his cheek and lips squish to the side lazily. His eyes were shut and his mouth was open the slightest bit, a faint snore emitting from his throat each time his chest rose and fell.

A grin sneakily crept onto your face when you took the time to admire how peaceful he looked. It was probably the first time you’d ever seen him so—exposed. Realizing the mistake of your words, your timing couldn’t have been worse when Yoongi’s eyelids fluttered open.

The corners of his eyes formed into half-moons as he crinkled his nose. Stretching over your body with his free arm, you shuffled away from his reach and rolled off the bed.

You let out a strangled yelp as your body tumbled onto the floor. As if you didn’t have enough bruises from last night already...

Hurrying to peek over the edge of the bed, Yoongi’s face bore a bemused look and you’d bet a million dollars he was about three seconds away from—

“Are you okay?” he chuckled, bursting into a fit of raspy laughter with a lazy smile. 

His upbeat aura made you analyze his face for any indication that he was hungover or on possibly on something, but all you saw was a genuinely cheery boy. 

“Y–Yeah...” you stuttered. “I’m good. Fine. I’m fine.”

Softening his gaze, he sighed and rolled back into bed, staring at the ceiling. What the hell were you supposed to do now? Struggling to find a way to break the ice, you only realized then now dry and scratchy your throat felt.

Clearing your throat, you scratched your head at your surroundings. “Is this your room?” Mumbling something that resembled an ‘mhmph,’ you took his half-ass mumble as a yes.

“How did we, um...” you hiccuped, nerves beginning to take over. You resorted to pointing to random points around the room sheepishly.

Hearing the rustling of sheets, you met his half-lidded gaze. He wasn’t wearing a top, yet you were the one who felt self-conscious and covered your chest with your arms—and you were actually wearing a shirt.

Sniffling slightly, he rested the side of his face on his arm lazily. “I piggybacked you here after you knocked out like a light,” he chuckled to himself, reliving the moment briefly. “Drooled all over my shoulder and everything.”

“I do not drool!” you exclaimed, wiping your mouth subconsciously while blushing furiously at his accusation.

“I beg to differ,” he smiled, flashing a gummy smile that made you hiccup. The conversation was becoming much too casual for your comfort, and you quickly got up on your feet to try and find your clothes. You needed to get out of here. You needed to get out of here now.

Unfortunately, your body betrayed you when your legs trembled and gave under you. Your muscles felt like jelly and you couldn’t even make an attempt at getting up the second time, so you slid down back into a cross-legged position on the floor as smoothly as you could, trying not to look as embarrassed or defeated as you felt. Yoongi hid his snort of amusement with a cough. 

“Where are my clothes?” you questioned, suddenly aware that you were dressed in black boxer shorts and a shirt too large to be your size. Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at the realization.

Hands shooting up to cover your chest instinctively, you stared at Yoongi like a deer in headlights. “You undressed me?!” you gawked.

Propping his elbow up, he rested his cheek on his hand as he chuckled. “Technically I redressed you after the undressing part, so it counts as a double negative,” he corrected. Smug bastard...

Wincing at the stretch you felt in your thighs from just sitting in a cross-legged position, you stood up again only to stumble again like a tower made of jello cubes. Yoongi sat up immediately, grabbing your arm to help you stay upright, but you tore yourself away from Yoongi’s warm hands. The soothing sensation of his touch was making you feel too comfortable for your own liking. 

Clothes. Door. Exit. Now. Four words you never expected to dictate your every move thereon afterward. 

He looked at you with a puzzled expression, taken aback by your irrational behavior. Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, but as soon as you spotted your pile of clothes in the corner of the room, you scurried across to pick them up. 

Yanking down the boxers you were wearing and pulling off his shirt, the smell of his cologne sunk through the fabric and made your heartbeat jump for a moment. Flashbacks of last night snapped like a series of camera shutters in your mind; his scent rubbing onto your skin, the texture of his hair between your fingers, the warmth of his lips against your neck, the feeling of his tongue—

“Pull yourself together,” you screamed in your head. Shaking your head to snap yourself out of your sinful thoughts, you jumped up and down into your jeans and threw on your hoodie in record time before he could make a remark about your nude state.   

Picking up your phone from his nightstand and stepping—more like tripping—into your shoes, you turned around and closed your eyes, crinkling your nose to focus and think about whether you needed to gather anything else. Once confirming that you didn’t bring anything other than your phone, you rushed out the door and left Yoongi with his mouth hung open. 

“Well shit...” he thought. 

It had been a full week since the “incident,” as you had labeled it, and you were cooped up in your dorm like a prisoner, only sneaking out to get snacks and coffee from the corner store across the street. The stupid week-long break could not come any sooner, could it? 

Words splattered like stray drops of paint across the walls of your mind as panic occupied every waking thought since that night. 

He knew your secret and you knew his.

You didn’t know why fear was growing on you like a parasite. It’s not like he was going to tell Powell. Even if he did, you’d probably just have to go to a few physical therapy lessons and get prescribed some medication to manage the pain. 

“He’ll restrict your physical participation hours and make you play less...” your subconscious suspected. There it was—that was your greatest fear. Crawling bugs, skyscraper-tall heights, deep dark oceans, and even being trapped in a burning building didn’t compare to the complete and utter dread you would feel if you had lost music. Just thinking about it was enough to make you bite your nails. 

As your silent nights of waking up, showering, eating a few bites of granola bars, and wallowing in your bed until you fell asleep became repetitive, Yoongi was as loud and active as he had ever been—in the form of texts, that is. 

Saturday

Min Salty: You good? [1:41 p.m.]

Sunday 

Min Salty: Earth to _____ ? [ 8:19 a.m.]

Min Salty: Did you get sick? [11:43 a.m.]

Monday

Min Salty: Are you okay? [4:50 p.m.]

Min Salty: Call me [5:01 p.m.]

Tuesday

Min Salty: _____ , talk to me [12:12 a.m.]

Wednesday

Min Salty: At least let me know that you’re alive [10:08 a.m.]

Yesterday

Min Salty: I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you need [9:04 p.m.] 

Re-reading each text was like stabbing yourself with a rusted dagger over and over again as the realization of what you had done loomed over you like a storm cloud. Lying in your bed, you buried your face in the pillow and screamed, thankful that everyone down your dorm block was away for a few more days. It killed you even more inside when you read over the text you had sent five minutes ago.

Today

Min Salty: Practice room 2B at 3? [2:34 p.m.]

You: sure [2:41 p.m.]

Thrashing your arms and legs wildly in an attempt to relieve you of your impulsive and rash decision, you huffed one more time before getting out of bed and changing into a pair of jeans. Rubbing your eyes and triple-checking whether you had just done what you think you had done, you wailed overdramatically, praying that this was all just one big nightmare. 

What the hell were you thinking? 

Blowing your wild baby hairs away from your face, you ignored the state of the bird’s nest of a messy bun that laid atop your head and didn’t bother changing out of your hoodie. You were way too used to wearing those since you started college. Packing your dorm keys and notebook into your backpack, you slung it over your shoulder half-heartedly and prepared for the storm that lied ahead. 

The entire walk across the campus was filled with dread and you didn’t bother cleaning up your disheveled state when you finally knocked on the door. When it swung open, you met his gaze for the first time in what felt like weeks. 

Yoongi was sitting on the piano bench with a cup-holder filled with two hot drinks and a paper bag settled on the guest table. He too was flaunting just as plain of an outfit as your black joggers and school logo-printed hoodie.

With grey sweatpants, matching sweater, and grass-stained sneakers, you both stared at each other with awe at your equal ability to feel so comfortable in your less than dress code friendly attire. You didn’t even notice until your eyes landed on his socks that they were different colors, to which you clamped your hand over your mouth and disguised your snort with a brash cough. 

“Don’t you look gorgeous?” he scoffed, admiring your equally casual half-strewn choice of an outfit. Pulling out two chairs from the side of the room and placing them next to the table, you opened your mouth to protest, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the room.

Starting with the coffee, he handed you the paper cup, tapping under your chin playfully because he found your dazed face amusing. Angling your head down low, you felt a pang of regret. He shouldn’t be this happy...

He tore the bag open to reveal an array of croissants, donuts, and pastries from the café across the street. You’d gone there so many times in the last couple of years, you would be a moron if you hadn’t memorized the menu by now. 

“Why did you—” you sputtered, pointing to the golden loaves of steaming hot fluffiness that made your mouth water. Sitting down, he patted the chair next to him, welcoming you to sit and make yourself comfortable.

“Food first then talk,” he halted. “You look like you haven’t eaten anything other than instant noodles and mix coffee in weeks—and I know better than anyone what that looks like...”

Scowling at his double-edged insult and scold, you sat moved the chair to be across from him rather than beside and sat down slowly like a cat who was exploring their new home. 

Were you dreaming? Why was he being so soft? Was he on something? Perhaps, plotting his revenge? Or worse, your murder? 

 Sensing your hesitant state, Yoongi shoved a mini-donut into your agape mouth. “I didn’t poison anything, you fusspot.” He continued eating his food in silence as if nothing were wrong in the world. Maybe this would be an opportunity for you to get some actual food into your system and not be forced to talk.

And who were you to turn down lunch?

Chewing the mouthful of glazed donut you'd been fed, you chewed slowly and closed your eyes to hold back the moan that nearly came out. Starchy bread and sugary fruit preserves had never tasted so good.

A few minutes passed in total silence. The only sounds came from the crinkling of papers as Yoongi pulled out more napkins and the gulps that came from the two of you idly sipping your drinks. Yoongi had finished eating, but you were purposely taking your sweet time by chewing slower than a turtle and being overly cautious with your now-lukewarm coffee.

Leaning back onto the wall, Yoongi looked up at your room, breaking the silence first. “You’re in a single-dorm?”

Pausing in the middle of chewing, you swallowed and nodded, reaching over for your drink again. 

“By request?”

Another nod.

“Does it get boring?” he continued, clearly seeing that he was getting under your skin with each question. 

God, why did he have to talk so much?

You shook your head a little too vigorously as you took the last bite of your donut before setting it down and then taking a few reasonably long gulps of your coffee, finishing that as well. 

“Why’d you call?” you finally asked. 

Chuckling at how he had broken through your shell with the peace offering of food and coffee no one could resist, he fumbled with the empty cup in his hands. “I just wanted to check up on you,” he replied simply. “Plus, I was bored out of my mind and you’re the only other person on campus so I figured it’d be smart to kill some time with practice.” 

You shifted in your seated position as the comment took you by surprise. “You knew I was fine,” you mumbled, voice coming just short of a shy child’s whisper. 

“I actually,” he cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about last week.” 

“It was a mistake.” That was all it was; a mistake. 

Yoongi’s eyes widened as his eyebrows lifted up, his expression morphing into one of shock at your unexpected answer. “No, I—”

Shaking your head, you gnawed on the inside of your cheek. The sooner you got this cleaned up the easier it’d be on both of you. “We made a mistake and we need to move past it. It wasn’t responsible for us and—”

“Bullshit.” The word came out in the familiar tone that he used with you that night; anger and rage directing itself into the fury of one single word. 

“What?” you scoffed, wide awake now more than ever. You couldn’t tell whether it was because you were shocked at his view on the situation or whether it was the caffeine kicking in and doing its magic. 

Stretching his neck to one side and exhaling through his nose, he couldn’t make direct eye contact with you and opted to stare at your hands wrapped around your cup. “It wasn’t a– you didn’t do anything wrong,” he altered his sentence. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Neither of us did anything wrong because you and I—” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he began to grow annoyed at himself. 

Why was he stumbling over his words so bad? 

“Yoongi,” you said firmly. It was your turn to take hold of the conversation. “Can we just pretend like none of this happened and go back to being—” Pausing to bury your face into your hands, you shrugged. “Whatever we were before.”

“You really don’t want to talk about it?” he asked bluntly. 

You refused to even give yourself a second to process the question before you responded with a firm no. His tongue prodded the inside of his cheek for a moment before he got up. “Should we work on the piece then?” 

For some reason, regret ate at you like a power-hungry monster that would never be satiated. 

“Yeah,” you responded robotically, sitting yourself down on the cold leather chair. “Let’s practice.”

Never in your life had those words tasted so bitter in your mouth. 

You wanted to say that moving past mortifyingly embarrassing moments in your life was a process in and of itself. You even dared to say that admitting them was the hardest part but of course, to each their own. 

It had been two weeks since you last spoke to Yoongi and timed seemed to move slower than ever. Whenever you found yourself pondering over the option of texting him, your pride got the best of you. 

Between passing periods and free time after school, you had yet to formally speak with him last week. You cringed internally as flashbacks of the week prior set off like landmines in your head.

Scurrying down the hallways like an undercover rat, you went as far as wearing sunglasses along with your hood to try and disguise yourself. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t recognize you in this state, right? You were even wearing a colored hoodie, for God’s sake—completely unheard of for someone of your tastes. Black and grey hoodies were your wardrobes’ partners in crime.

You earned a couple stares from the crowds of people as you kept your back hunched and weaved through them, but it definitely won over having to run into Yoongi. Or even worse, actually having to talk to him. Chills ran down your spine. You’d have to face him one day, but this was the one things you could afford to procrastinate just a little bit. 

Then came the day when he too learned about your schedule after countless trials of “accompanying” you to your classes—while hiding from your line of sight. 

“_____!” he shouted through the bustling crowd, waving his arm in the hopes that you’d see him, but to aid him in the off chance that you wouldn’t run away from him this time. Somehow, by the laws of the universe and its devious ways, he managed to catch up to you and tug at your sleeve. 

Turning around after muttering a wave of silent swears to yourself, you turned around like a character who was moments away from being murdered by the serial killer. Spoiler alert: this scene actually had a happy ending. 

“I’m late for a class!” you chuckled wryly, cringing at your own forced and awkward tone. “Catch you later!” Waving goodbye, you sped off as quickly as your legs could carry you to your lecture. 

“Catch you later?” Did you jump out of a 70′s sitcom or something? Your pessimist mocked you, poking fun at your awful crack at an excuse. 

There was bound to be someone else who arrived at the lecture 20 minutes early, right?   

Lounging in the tightly nestled corner of the café, you were in the middle of shuffling through the notes from class when a certain someone decided to grace you with the gift of a heart attack.

“Jesus freaking Christ!” Your notes nearly flew into the air as you jumped like an animated cat. Turning around to face the person behind you who had made the ballsy choice to sneak up on you and poke your shoulder, Yoongi’s face greeted you with a cheeky grin.

“Busy?” he asked nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just given you the fright of your life. Looking at him with your eyes open to the size of saucers, you wet your lips and gulped, trying to think of a way to dig out of yet, another hole you had buried yourself in. 

Pointing behind you with your finger to distract him, you raised your shoulders and jutted your neck forward, contorting into an uncomfortable pose that screamed awkwardness. “Text me later!” you spit out, crinkling your nose with a forced chuckle.  

“But—” Yoongi’s sputtering faded into silence as you dashed out of there quicker than a farm dog that was herding a flock of geese. 

Each time you replayed the self-deprecating memories like a slideshow in your head, it was comparable to sticking your hand into ice cold water you’d scooped up from Antarctica. “Dammit.” Your voice came out hushed but dangerously close to being an audible growl and your fist slammed onto the wooden table. 

Studying in the library was a bad choice. Odd stares and hushed whispers scattered across the room like a swarm of bees and caused the people around you to shift in their seats. Murming a silent apology at your sudden outburst, you packed your things and tried to leave as quietly as possible.   

As you felt the satisfying crunch of leaves under your feet with each step, your eyes drifted off into nowhere while your mind was a million miles away. You didn’t know why you felt so strange. It was as if everyone saw the world through black or white lenses and yet, you were the only one who hallucinated color in between the lines. 

Huddling your arms closer to your body, a cold gust of wind blew across your face, making you shiver and prickle with goosebumps. A dull, aching sensation made its way across the tops of your hands as your muscles reacted to the temperature difference, forcing you to tuck them under your armpits. Fashionable isn’t it? The weather of the autumn and winter months always bid the worst for your hands, and yet, your forgetful self always let the errand of buying a pair of stupid mittens slip your mind. 

It had also been a week since you’d gone anywhere near a piano and it stuck like a wine stain on white linen. You were jittery and anxious like a stranded survivor balancing on on the tip of an iceberg. Since you had a natural inclination to let out your emotions through playing, your cognitive acuity also felt at an all-time low. The rare possibility of running into your professor while you were in this state was soul-crushing, and the off-chance that he might see your restricted playing ability was even more so debilitating. 

Even though you hated to admit it, the best thing you could probably do for your hands was to go and play, even if it were for a few minutes. The doctor—even though it was his sincere recommendation for you to stop playing altogether and consider taking up stress ball yoga instead—told you that light activity was actually beneficial in regulating your chronic pain. 

The occasional Advil helped as well, but you’d been popping the tryhard M&M’s like candy on a regular basis since sophomore year, so your built-up tolerance to the orange-coated tablets rendered them useless. 

Debating between taking a hot shower back at the comfort of your room and going to practice for an hour (or three), you settled on the latter. You could use the extra hours anyway—you knew better than anyone how much you needed them. 

You took your usual shortcut around the quad and turned at the corner of the brick building you’d grown too acquainted with throughout the years. Stepping into the corridors, warm air welcomed you like an old friend as the buzz and whirring of the heater indicated that it was on full blast. Thank God. 

Treading down the length of the hallway with tentative steps, you were surprised to see that there were quite a few people occupying the studios. You recognized a few classmates through the glass panes of the doors. 

Judging by the pointless blabbering, incessant arguing, harsh thumping of keys, and scattered frustrated groans, the muted sounds that were still clearly audible through the soundproof rooms made you chuckle. Something told you that these were the master procrastinators who didn’t decide to start on the project until now...

When you reached the end of the hall, you were relieved to find an empty room. Finally. Sighing in relief, you had never found the flick of a light switch and whoosh of a closing door more satisfying than in that moment. 

Sprawling your things out haphazardly onto the floor, the overly-stiff lid of the piano opening made you scrunch up your face. If this piano was the only one out of tune in the building, you were going to—

You didn’t even finish the thought before your finger pressed on a key as if it had a mind of its own. “Thank the tuning gods,” you sighed, bringing your hand to your chest and exhaling out the air you’d held in your lungs. Sure, it was one of the older models the school’s inventory had to offer, but it was still miraculously in tune. 

If anything, you let out a ‘hm’ of intrigue as you sat down. You’d never played in this particular studio or on this piano before, but the different weight of the keys and peculiar texture of sound that emanated from them piqued your interest. 

Playing on a different piano than your usual model could best be described as a painter who had to paint with a completely different base canvas, colors of paint, and a set of brushes. Whereas a painter was familiar with his or her usual painting medium and more than comfortable with the feel of their brushes, the process of adapting to a new set of materials altogether was neither difficult nor easy, because they didn’t know what they were dealing with yet. 

It was just different. 

Pianos were almost grouped in the same theory, except rather than produce a visual piece with brushes and paint, you had to paint a picture with sound; an odd medium considering the less physically pliable nature of it. 

This piano in particular, for example, required more weight on certain keys to produce an equal amount of sound as the others. The texture of the sound was also a different quality, this being more rustic and ragtime sounding than the new models lined up in the front entrance studios. Those sounded much more acoustic, crisper, and sharper, fitting a more classical and structured repertoire. 

Starting easy with a few scales and basic pieces you learned when you were younger, the aching in your hands still lingered, but the pain grew more than bearable since your hands had warmed up. 

What were you going to practice today? Chopin? Beethoven? Lizst? Forming your mouth into an ‘o’ shape at the last name, you quirked your lip into a meek grin. When was the last time you played one of that psycho’s pieces? 

Settling on Liebestraum No. 3, you took a moment to try and remember the piece by heart. Closing your eyes to concentrate on picturing and mapping out the piece in your head, you breathed deeply and grazed your fingertips across the keys. 

The collection of three pieces was also known as Dreams of Love and the third piece’s gentle and melodic hymn was just that. The beginning of the piece was soft like a lullaby, enveloping the listener into a space of warmth and tenderness; like the sparks of a newly blossoming and dreamlike relationship. Hypnotizing and consuming, the simple unfolding melody drew you in completely.

The second cadenza then transitioned into the harsh reality of love, becoming more weighted and melancholic as the tempo not only sped up and became more frantic, but the tones and harmonics also developed into more complex ones. Desperate, heartbreaking, and filled with the raw reality that love had the ability to take just as much as it had to give, your hands no longer dictated how well you played at that moment; your humanity did. 

The final cadenza was the one that shredded your heartstrings. After the highs and lows of falling in and out of love, the dynamic returned to its former soft and lulling roots, reminding you that the everlasting form of love and eternal happiness was truly unattainable, and only lurked in the distant world that was your dreams. 

The words that constantly lurked in your head sent a pang of guilt into your chest, erupting and manifesting itself physically into the delicate and drawn out keys of the pieces final notes. Would you ever be happy?

Coming down from the euphoria that engulfed every nerve in your body, tears brimmed your eyes. Scoffing at yourself, you sniffled, dabbing away the wetness that dampened your cheeks as self-pitying chuckles left your mouth. This was a definitely a first. 

The sudden sense that someone was watching you made you grow suspicious. Snapping your head around to the door, your body went cold as a figure was visible through the glass pane of the door. 

Yoongi.

You remained frozen in place, unable to move from the wave of anxiety that swallowed you whole. Your throat was dry and your tongue felt like it was cemented to the roof of your mouth. Turning back around to face the piano, you tried to wipe the remaining tears as discreetly as you could, but you realized that your puffy eyes and red nose betrayed you. 

Facing back to the door, you pressed your lips into a thin line and hoped that it would mask any indication that you had just bawled over a stupid piece. God, you felt so pathetic...

Through the reflective pane, you tried to make out his expression but felt your heart hiccup when you zoned in on his face. He sniffled once before looking down at his feet, then back up at you, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his glassy eyes. 

Was he—crying? 

Blinking hard through your still-puffy and damp eyes, you squinted to try and get a clearer view of him through the glass, but in the blink of an eye and almost as soon as he had appeared, he was gone; vanishing like a figment of your imagination in a dream you had rudely woken up from. 

Your feet felt like they were cement blocks weighing down on the pedals. Unable to come to your senses enough to stand up and stop him you could only stare blankly at the door as the illusion of his echoing footsteps deadened into silence.

Today

You: 4A in 20 minutes? [5:22 p.m.]

Min Salty: sure [5:26 p.m.] 

Trying to push past and cross the awkward tightrope of a situation that you had created, you felt your breath hitch in your throat and form a hiccup instead. You weren’t sure what surprised you more, the fact that he had replied quicker than you anticipated or the actuality that he had replied to you at all. 

Biting your cuticles raw, your nerves were stinging you like a swarm of angry bees. You were already in the studio, of course, and had been practicing for an hour or so before the idea popped into your head. After that, the text had been saved as a draft for about ten minutes before you eventually swallowed your ego and placed your finger on the dreaded send icon. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Exactly two-minutes had passed since his response and each tick of the clock was like the ring of a bell, signaling that it was feeding time for the growing monster that was your anxiety. 

You hissed through your teeth when you accidentally bit down too hard on your cuticle too hard and made a pool of bright red blood flood the edge of your nail. Simultaneously, the click and turn of the doorknob made you snap your head up and freeze, halting your pacing steps. 

Smoothing over the top of his hood, Yoongi fashioned a plain black shirt, tattered burgundy jacket, distressed jeans, and scuffed white sneakers. It didn’t take you a second longer to notice the black dust mask he had over his mouth, either. Whether it had become a habit of yours or a natural inclination to study him from afar, you always found yourself staring for a moment too long before you spoke. 

“You’re—” you cleared your throat. “—early.” Glancing at the clock, you made sure that you read it right. “Really early.”

He pulled out a chair and slung his bag onto the floor. “I figured you’d be here already.” His voice sounded rough, but not the abrasive kind of rough—the sick kind. When did he get sick? Did he take any medicine? Why was he here?

“Shut up...” you reminded yourself. “It’s none of your busine—”

“Are you sick?” Repressing your negative subconscious, you cared more about his health, for now, more than your ego could force you not to. He shook his head no rather than give you a formal response, refusing to speak and therefore, confirming your suspicions. 

He hadn’t even taken off his mask yet and you were pretty sure it was about 75 degrees outside; more than toasty enough for him to walk around without a mask to keep his mouth warm. 

“Yoongi, you should go home and rest,” you sighed. Instant guilt began to gnaw at you. 

Another forceful head shake and a few suppressed coughs later, he sat down on the chair and pulled out his notebook. It was bad enough you had your own pride to deal with, and adding Yoongi’s into the mix wasn’t going to lead anywhere. You weren’t putting him through this today. 

Taking his notebook away from his lap, you set it on top of his bag and kneeled down, placing your hand on his forehead. As you expected, it was slick with sweat. 

“Christ, you’re burning up...” you swore, flipping back and forth between the palm and back of your hand to make sure that he was really that hot. Gently grabbing your wrist, he craned his neck away from your reach and pulled your arm away from his vicinity.

He took his mask off agitatedly at your relentless nagging to try and prove his point. “I’m fine.” His voice was stern but still weak, a clear indication that he was anything but that. Frowning with concern written all over your face, he simply stared vacantly into your eyes while still maintaining his hold around your wrist. 

Shaking your head at his hardheaded attitude that mirrored yours, you pried his fingers off of your wrist and pressed the back of your hand to his damp cheek. Yoongi’s eyes went wide as his face instantly heated up and flushed at the contact. 

“You’re running at least a 100 right now, Yoongi,” you scolded. “We can practice anytime, but right now, you need to go home and rest.” Your hand was still resting on his cheek while you spoke while he continued looking at anywhere but your eyes. 

You pulled your hand away from his cheek and let out a near-inaudible gasp when he clutched your wrist again. Bringing your cool hand back to his face, you swallowed tensely when he slid his grip up to your hand and guided it to the side of his face, cupping his large hand over yours so that it was now cupping his cheek. 

He closed his eyes tenderly at the coolness of your hand, relishing the soothing and comforting touch that only you could ever provide. Your eyes fluttered a few times before you gave into his silent plea. Running your thumb over the delicate skin of his cheekbones, a twinge of woe struck your chest at the sight before you. 

“Why do you make me feel this way...” you murmured to yourself. 

“If only I understood the way I felt about you...” Yoongi thought. 

A soothing and not-entirely awkward silence filled the room. Yoongi’s throaty breathing and occasional sniffles were the only other noises that were distinguishable, and your intermittent hiccup decided to grace you with its presence towards the last three minutes of the hour. 

“Yoongi?” you whispered. Had he fallen asleep? Sitting up? Was he secretly a horse? 

“Mhm?” he hummed. Whew—still awake. 

Holding back the tiniest grin, you sighed. “Let’s go back to your dorm.” 

Mumbling something in his enervated state, you helped him up to his feet and slung his arm over your shoulders to keep him upright and on his feet. You could only pray that he was still conscious enough to have control over his legs. 

That day, you learned that dragging a barely conscious man who was twice the size of you into the boys’ dorm block was a sight worthy of earning a couple tentative stares. The childishly logical part of your brain wondered how serial killers did it. 

“Hm, I don’t know _____, maybe the fact that they’re absolutely maniacal psychopaths who possess four times the upper body strength you do helps,” you huffed, verbally exercising your strain as you tried to walk straight while propping Yoongi up. Was he drunk or really that sick?

Where was the RA anyway? Paying that high price of tuition should at least warrant a decent resident advisor for safety reasons. 

Brushing the shoulder of a stranger, the guy stared at you with terribly confused eyes as he stopped brushing his teeth. Panting heavily, Yoongi grumbled another illegible sentence of nonsense as you took a breather to ask the stranger where his room was. Logically, it had to be one of the only single-dorms in the building, so you prayed it mirrored the layout of yours and was at the end of the hall. 

The doe-eyed boy pointed to the end of the long corridor, the minty toothpaste bubbles foaming around the sides of his mouth as it remained parted open in confusion. You quickly thanked him and stumbled slowly but surely down the length of the hallway. Even though it was safe to assume that his door was locked, you turned down the lever and were surprised when the door swung open. Yoongi apparently doesn’t lock his door on the regular...

Thankfully, the layout of the room did, in fact, resemble yours, so you were able to find his bedroom with ease. You convinced yourself that fact that you had woken up there one fateful morning certainly played no part in it. Flinging himself (along with the frustrated force that resulted from your built-up and rushing endorphins) onto the mattress, he landed into the rumpled sheets with a thump. Apparently, he also didn’t have a habit of making his bed before he left his dorm. 

You let out a final harsh exhale. You did it. Stretching out your shoulders as a reward, you were more than positive that they’d be sore tomorrow. When was the last time you worked out? A trick question with a secret option C. You couldn’t be bothered to. 

Pulling off his shoes and peeling his jacket off of his body, you started to question whether he was secretly blackout drunk or truly terribly ill. He was out like a light within the first few steps into his dorm. You splayed his crinkled blanket over his body loosely, careful to keep him insulated but still allow some room for air to circulate and allow breathability. 

When your fingers brushed away the blonde hairs that were stuck on his sweat-dampened forehead, he shifted from his side-lying position, reaching out instinctually to grab your hand again. Yoongi kept his grip on your wrist firm, locking it close against his chest like a child’s teddy bear. He nuzzled his head into your wrist like a puppy, nosing the soft skin between your pulse point and prominent vein. He couldn’t help it that the cool skin of your poorly circulating limbs felt like ice packs on his burning hot skin. 

You blinked a couple times trying to process the options you had. Each tug in an attempt to free your arm from his grip only resulted in him clutching tighter, and he seemed to mumble something as his face contorted into a recognizable expression of discomfort. Nightmare?

Finally realizing that he wasn’t going to let go of you anytime soon, you gave up. It’s not like you had anything better to do today. Kneeling down beside the bed, you placed your free hand underneath your chin and propped your elbow on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position and wait for the situation to pan out for a couple minutes. He’d have to let go of you eventually. 

You couldn’t hold back the burning desire to admire his sleeping features. He looked so at peace compared to his day-to-day mood, almost like an entirely different person. Rubbing over his knuckles involuntarily, you didn’t even realize you were doing it until you felt his grip relax with your touch. Judging from how he had his mouth slightly parted and the steady rhythm of the rising and falling of his chest, you concluded that he had fallen asleep. 

Not wasting another second, you stealthily slid your hand out of his caging hold and folded the remaining edge of the blanket over his arms. You stood up and brushed off your red kneecaps and tip-toed to the door, closing it as softly as you could. Yoongi needed to sleep his heart out. 

Was it wrong to just leave? You stopped dead in your tracks when you realized that by the time he’d wake up, he would be starving. It wasn’t easy eating when you were sick, and Yoongi’s comment last week about him knowing what a month’s long diet of instant noodles and coffee looked like made you shudder in guilt. Gathering every single bit of patience and empathy you had left in the degrading bones of yours, you diverted yourself away from the exit and to the kitchen. 

Single-dorms on the university campus were like miniature studio apartments. Usually reserved for students on an as-needed basis, there were only six or seven in total. So far, Yoongi was the only other person you had met who occupied one. You hated to admit it, but he was probably the only other person you had talked to and gotten to know this much in all your years of attending the school. Would you dare go as far as to say he was your only friend? 

You quickly shook off the thought and went back to digging around his kitchen. His fridge and cupboard inventory didn’t come as much of a shock to you. It was, for lack of a better word, horrendous. 

The small refrigerator was practically empty, and the only things occupying the near-empty shelves were a couple apples, a half-dozen pack of eggs, a measly portion of fruit salad (probably from the mini-mart down the street), a package of mixed and chopped vegetables for soups and stews, one styrofoam takeout box, and a suspicious looking tin-foil boat. 

Don’t even mention the side compartments. Those were reserved for a few energy drinks, half-opened caffeine shots, packets of takeout condiments, a full-sized bottle of ketchup, a block of cheddar cheese, and a torn open foil pack of butter. Quirking the edge of your lip into a dumbfounded pucker, your face relaxed into one of comedic amusement. How could anyone live off of this—garbage? You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word “food.” That would be offensive to the existence of food itself. 

His freezer was completely empty, so moving onto the cupboards was either going to be a big mistake or a happy accident. You prayed deep down it was the latter. Then again, you also could not have been more wrong. 

The cupboards weren’t any better. If anything, they were worse. The grey-painted plastic backboards were the only things visible, usually a sign that a student had just moved in days ago. In one corner of the lowest shelf was an almost-empty box of granola bars; the shitty 99 cent ones every seasoned uni student stocked up on in bulk before the semester started. Beside it was a newly opened bag of rice. At least that was the one food item in this crapshoot that seemed remotely new. 

The rest of the shelves held two worn-out, rusty frying pans, and chipped glass china. Those were probably hand-me-downs from senior students who couldn’t be bothered to throw their old belongings away after graduation. There was a whole recycling bin full of them in the storage shed by the cafeteria 

You bit your lip, trying to think of what to make with what little you were given. Omelet? Boring. Soup? Painfully more boring. Curious, you unwrapped the mysterious bundle of tin-foil and discovered a very fresh marbled flank of beef. Cheering internally, you set to work on your favorite childhood dish that you were most confident in cooking: fried rice.  

You were more than willing to buy him another pack of meat. Hell, after the shock of seeing his fridge? You were more than willing to buy his groceries for a whole damn month if it meant he would take care of himself. Your grandparents always sent you too much money at once anyway. It wasn’t as if you had friends to go out and drink with, so paying for dinners wasn’t a usual activity you took part in. 

You started off by washing the rice and setting it up on the stovetop to boil. It would take the longest to prepare, so it was only natural to get that out of the way first. Next came the simple process of chopping up the meat, cooking it thoroughly, combining the packet of pre-cut vegetables, and then mixing in the rice last. On any other given day, you would have seasoned the meat with at least a pinch of pepper, but you didn’t exactly have that option considering the given circumstances.

It didn’t take long since the limited and pre-measured ingredients boxed you in along the way. Plating the rice onto the only dish deep enough that Yoongi had available, you used the same pan to quickly fry up two eggs. The smell of steaming hot food made your stomach grumble in response. 

Not to stroke your ego or anything, but you enjoyed patting yourself on the back for your accomplishments every now and then, no matter how small. Self-assurance was good for the old pessimistic soul. 

You tried to think of any other thing you could add to the meal and ogled the table when you nearly forgot. Shuffling back to the fridge, you cut up half an apple and arranged the slices into the plastic mini-mart bowl of fruit salad. Then, you eagerly jumped towards the bottle of ketchup and shook it vigorously with arms that were already starting to feel sore from lugging around Yoongi earlier. 

Drizzling the condiment over the golden heap of steaming rice, the red zig-zag streams finished off the orange and green vegetables quite nicely. You covered it with the only other dish Yoongi had in his cupboard and hoped it would still be warm by the time he woke up. Sighing in satisfaction as well as exhaustion, you didn’t pause to check the time. 

“Shit...” you muttered. The sky was already pitch black, meaning that it was well past 9. You facepalmed. How long had you been here? Mind you, you also completely forgot that you still had an essay due next week. Do you know how much easier life would be if your laptop grew its own set of hands and just wrote it for you? 

If you checked up on Yoongi before leaving, you had a feeling he would wake up the minute the doorknob clicked, so you thought it was best just to let him rest. Sneaking out of a dorm for the first time in your life, the door creaked ever-so-slightly before latching shut as Yoongi and his dorm returned to their all-too-familiar state of vacancy. 

Getting up the next morning was certainly an interesting process, to say the least. You sat in your tangled mess of bedsheets for about ten minutes before coming to the realization that yesterday was everything but a dream. It hit you like a bucket of cold water that had just been dumped over your head.

Throughout the entire day, you hobbled through your classes with hunched shoulders and a rounded back, feeling a constant strain in your upper body each time you tried to straighten out. “Working out” was a mistake. 

As the deadline for the performance was almost at the two-month mark, you grew more and more anxious with each passing day. It wasn’t anything special. You always had a healthy amount of anxiety revolving around academia but your performance nerves were on a completely different level. 

Humming to piece to yourself, your phone buzzed from your pocket as the blaring of your ringtone sounded. Your parents didn’t call you during the weekdays and you couldn’t think of anyone else who had your phone number. “Perks of having no friends,” you thought. Fishing it out of your coat pocket, your eyes widened when Yoongi’s name flashed across the screen. 

Your fingers swiped across the green icon absentmindedly, accepting the call with little hesitation. “Hello?” Didn’t he usually prefer to text you rather than call?

“Hey,” he replied. He sounded a lot better than yesterday but his throaty tone made it clear that traces of his cold still remained. “Are you free?”

You hiccuped. “Wh–yeah. Yeah, I’m free.” Of course, he knew you were free. It was a trick question. After following you around and trying to catch your tail, he had familiarized himself with your schedule, just as you had done a few weeks prior. “Do you want to book a practice room?”

A sniffle suddenly sounded from behind you and echoed in the receiver, making goosebumps sprawl across your neck. Not a millisecond after, the line clicked dead. Rip it off like a band-aid or peel it off slowly and painstakingly? Opting for the former, you closed your eyes tightly and mouthed a silent swear, turning around in slow motion like something out of an action film. 

Low and behold, there was Yoongi shifting his weight back and forth on his heels. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to go on a—” he paused to rub the back of his neck; he only did that when he was nervous. “On a hike?” 

“A hike?” The word felt foreign in your mouth. As far as you were concerned, yesterday’s fiasco was enough physical activity to last you for the rest of the year, but Yoongi wanted to go on a hike? “Aren’t you still sick?”

He shrugged. “A little cardio might help me burn it off and do me some good.” 

“You’re not plotting my murder, are you?” you gulped. Why was that always the first logical explanation that presented itself in your head?

Blinking at you for a moment, he chuckled and shook his head at your comment. “Not unless it's by physical activity. And it’s only up to the viewpoint. You’ve sprinted to classes farther than that.”

He had a point. The school was built atop a hillside and the viewpoint was, as its name entailed, a spot where you could look over the entire campus. It was about a five-minute walk outside of the gates and the climb wasn’t too steep. It certainly beat running a whole campus-length to each of your classes. 

“What about practice?” you sputtered, tongue weighing down your mouth like an ankle weight. “We haven’t gone over the piece in weeks.” 

Throwing his arm over your sore shoulders and bringing you close to him, he sighed. “Learn to live a little, _____. We still have two more months. A walk might clear your head.” Since when was Yoongi the voice of reason? 

You allowed him to walk a few steps ahead of you and ducked under his arm swiftly when you got the chance, freeing yourself from his hold. The concept of space bubbles around Yoongi had grown dangerously close to popping now. 

“Okay,” you cleared your throat. “Fine, fine, let’s go.” Picking up your pace, he trailed behind you with an amused smirk. 

Was it the cough medicine making him loopy or was he just particularly charming today?

“Min Yoongi, yo–I swear to God—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before collapsing onto the grass like a sack of potatoes. “If I ever get the strength back in my legs, I am going to smother you with a pillow,” panting between each word. 

By the time you made it up to the top of the hill, the sun was already set, making vivid orange and dusty pink colors streak across the darkened sky. The air was colder up here than back down on the campus level but you tried your best to hide your discomfort whenever your hands throbbed from the cold. 

Yoongi laughed as his eyes crinkled and his pearly white teeth showed in a gummy smile. “Good luck with that,” he chuckled. Making himself comfortable and sitting down beside your limp body, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, breathing in deeply. The walk actually did in fact, miraculously clear up his stuffy sinuses. Wonderful. 

Sitting up, you tried to rub your hands as discreetly as possible so as to not make him worry but failed when cracking of a few knuckles caused him to snap his gaze to you. He unzipped his jacket and flung off his hood and you immediately stopped him. 

“Nope,” you retaliated quickly. “No. Put it back on. Don’t even think about doing anything textbook cliché or I’ll roll you down the hill like a Lincoln log.”

Raising his eyebrows slightly at your distaste and choice of a non-threatening threat, he shrugged his jacket back on with a quizzical pout. “Don’t you have a pair of mittens or something?”

You grumbled a no in response, embarrassed that even he was aware of how ridiculous it was. A calming silence cast over both of you, the only sound coming from a few crickets chirping and the murmuring city far below. Your teeth started to chatter a couple minutes in, making genuine concern spread across Yoongi’s face. 

“Come here,” he sighed, gesturing to his open arms. Widening your eyes, you raised your hands assuringly.

“I’m fine,” you chuckled nervously. “I just have really bad circulation, that’s all.” It wasn’t a total lie. You really did have awful circulation and it constantly made your hands and feet cold. Not a day went by when you didn’t wear socks and a thick wooly sweater around your room. 

“Do you want to get sick too?” he asked with a bite in his voice, almost as if your stubbornness was beginning to get the best of him as well. “We’ve done worse things with fewer clothes on anyway...”

“Hey!” You jabbed his side. Narrowing your eyes at him in a silent message that he had won this round, you scooted over beside him as he wrapped his arms around your frame. It never ceased to amaze you how no matter the situation, whether it was his hands around yours or his arms around your body, you seemed to fit perfectly in his hold like a matching puzzle piece. 

Nestling yourself into his warm figure, you felt yourself relax into his touch. It would be a sin to deny that he had an unexplainable effect on you. The softness of his jacket, the heat radiating from his body, and his natural scent lulled you into a dazed state, too relaxed to even care about boundaries anymore. 

“Can we talk about it now?” he whispered, voice coming out muffled because his cheek was squished on the top of your head like a child’s. 

Fluttering your eyelashes open at his sudden request, you swallowed tensely. How did you not see this coming? You pulled away to get a proper glimpse of his face. “What is there to talk about, Yoongi?” 

“Don’t say my name like that,” he cut off abruptly. Had you already ticked him off? Giving him a look of confusion, he shook his head and looked down. “Don’t say my name like you pity knowing me...”

“Yoongi,” you exhaled faintly. He didn’t interrupt you this time. “I don’t understand what you want to talk about. We got angry at each other, we fought, and we made a mistake. That’s all.” Forcing out the last phrase felt like swallowing a jagged blade. You hated admitting it because of how untrue it was. 

“It didn’t feel like a mistake to me, _____.” His face remained firm as he used your name, speaking with an unflinching air of confidence and assuredness that only he could muster. 

It was your turn to shake your head and scoff. “What do you want me to say? That it was amazing? Because it was. It was amazing, okay? Everything felt so fucking perfect and I hate admitting it—” Pausing to breathe, you groaned and tangled your fingers through your hair at the sudden outpour of emotions you’d kept bottled inside of you for weeks. 

"Because feeling that good and happy for once scared the shit out of you, didn’t it?” he finished for you. Looking up at him, his gaze remained glued onto you, completely unfazed at your expected outburst. 

The question that made your heart race like the beating of a butterfly’s wings suddenly presented itself on a silver platter. 

“How did you know about my RA?” Your throat went dry as the words felt like chalk on your tongue. Had he told Powell yet? 

Leaning his head to one side, his jaw muscles tensed. “It doesn’t take a doctor to see that you're in pain outside of class.” He said it with a tone of dripping bluntness. “Not to mention how sensitive you are to the temperature changes; how you always rub your hands when it’s cloudy outside because it’s cold; even after playing a long piece because your fingers start to ache, and how abnormally swollen your joints get after a long day.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed into a dumbfounded frown. How did he know all of that? You weren’t even remotely aware of the fact that he was cognizant of your existence, much less your usual habits and mannerisms. “How do you notice all of that?”

Yoongi's jaw muscle tensed but he didn’t respond. 

Licking your lips nervously, another equally anxiety-inducing question made its way to the tip of your tongue. Moving your hands down to his sleeved arm, Yoongi’s breath hitched in his throat when you looked at him softly, silently asking for his permission. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, hesitant for a brief second, before tipping his chin down once.  

Your fingertips lightly brushed across the smooth skin of the top of his hand before grasping the edge of the sleeve cuff. Sliding it up slowly, the scars that were hidden became exposed, the milky tone of his skin contrasting with the rough and darkened scratches that were scattered across the entire length of his arm. 

“Gnarly, isn’t it?” He let out a nasal scoff. These were the only battle scars he was sure he would never flaunt in all their glory. The pads of your fingers carefully brushed over the delicate skin, studying the textured pattern like an ancient relic; one that would leave an impression in the mind for all the wrong reasons. 

“What happened afterward?” Your voice was cautious, coming out just shy of a whisper. Would he trust you enough with this? 

Yoongi’s jaw clenched again. Before he could say anything, you slid his sleeve back down over his arm and instinctively held his hand for support. Gripping yours back in response, he took a deep breath to compose his thoughts before speaking. It was now or never. 

“Powell found me. Whether it was because of fate or some bullshit theory of the universe, I don’t know, but he rushed me to the hospital and stayed with me for the entire week in the recovery unit.” A cold gust of wind blew and he was the one who held your hand tighter. “I didn’t tell my parents of course,” he chuckled dryly. 

“They never supported me in music until the day I got my scholarship here. Before that, they practically forced me away from anything having to do with music. ‘You’ll die starving and poor; you won’t have a proper job; and when you’re on the streets, homeless and begging for money, we won’t be here to help you. Just to tell you, We told you so.’ If I told them, I knew they’d force me to move back in with them and take on the family trade; scrubbing pots and serving drinks for drunkard business mongrels until 3 a.m.”

Yoongi’s Adam’s apple bobbed at the memory but his eyes remained centered. “I took a semester off to recover and decided that it was probably best for me to just drop out since I couldn’t play anymore. PT was a crapshoot. There was nothing left here for me.” His eyes glazed over momentarily but returned in a split second. Did physical therapy really not work? Had he even tried a single session? 

“Then Powell spent the entire semester practically begging on his knees to try and convince me to switch majors to composition and theory instead,” he grinned faintly, even letting out a ghost of a chuckle. “It took a month or two, but I figured I owed him that much. The old man practically raised me like his own son ever since freshman year.”  

He turned to face you, gaze landing on your intense ones with a soft smile as his thumb rubbed over your hand. “Everyone thought I got sucked into the party scene, failed all of my classes. I think some of those idiots assumed I got hazed into a gang or a cult. Like those morons knew anything about me...” 

You bit your lip. People were truly the worst. Not to mention immature, gossip-mongering, feeble-minded pre-burnout college pricks. 

“The hospital seemed like heaven compared to the hell I stepped into when I got back. I was like an animated corpse. I rarely ate, couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t even bother going to classes. I’d just sit my bed all day and stare at the ceiling like a rock. I was too afraid to sleep because every time I did, I’d have nightmares about it.” 

He frowned at the pang of contrition that struck him. “The headlights centimeters away from my face and blinding my eyes, the sirens ringing in my ears, the creaking metal wheels on the gurney...” Shaking his head, tears flung off his face and a droplet landed on the top of your hand. 

Your eyes fell to the grass at you held back your own budding tears. No matter how badly you wanted to scream that it was all over and in the past and that you were there for him, all you could do was sit and listen.

“Everything just felt so fucking empty…” he whispered, tugging hard at the edge of his lower lip between his teeth. “That night with you in the practice room was the first good night’s sleep I’ve gotten in two years.” The confession took you by surprise, your eyes lighting up like a spark from a firework. 

His eyes softened at your reaction. “When I got rolled into the ER, a nurse was rushing down the hall with me, holding my hand the entire way. I was busy blacking in and out of consciousness.” He stopped to grab your hand and bring it to cup his cheek, closing his eyes instantly at the contact-comfort. “But she had her hand by me the entire time until I completely knocked out in the operating room.”

Stroking your thumb over the sleep-deprived hollow that sunk in under his eye, his eyebrows knitted together and he clutched your hand tighter, afraid that if he let go, you’d dissipate like a figment of his imagination that was too good to be true. That’s why he wouldn’t fall asleep yesterday...

“It was dangling there like bait in right in front of me; taunting me, insulting me, mocking me like I was nothing—like the universe was reminding me that I was never going to be able to love anything else ever again and that I’d just have to live with it,” he continued with his face strained, expression taut as he tried to focus despite reliving the painful set of memories. 

He hadn’t bothered touching a piano since that night, refusing to accept the fate he’d have to gamble in anticipation of finding out whether he still had the ability to play or not. In reality, he didn’t know whether he could still coordinate his muscles—and he had absolutely no desire to find out any time soon. 

Yoongi let out a huff through his parted mouth. “Do you know how easy it is for people—things—to come into your life, give you everything that you would ever want and could possibly ask for, and then have them take it away just like that?” Seeing his breath through the frigid air, you had a feeling it wasn’t the weather making his words sound cold, but the emptiness and distance he had created within himself.

Gnawing on the corner of your lower lip, you kept your gaze focused down at your hands. It wasn’t supposed to be this difficult. Somehow, you finally found the courage to speak. “Is that why you hated me?” you asked in the barest of a whisper, your voice quieter than the rustling of the leaves on the trees. “Because you felt like I took that away from you?”

“No,” he replied instantly. Fluttering your eyelids at his unexpected and confident response, you frowned at him, confused. 

“I never hated you—didn’t—hate you because you played the piano,” he shook his head, eyes directed to the ground wistfully. “I was jealous.”

Your gaze softened at the confession as you swallowed nervously, awaiting his next words. “You looked so happy,” he smiled, letting out a chuckle that was too full of melancholy. “I knew from the first moment I saw you playing by yourself in the studio...” Yoongi’s voice trailed off, face melting into an expression you couldn’t read. 

Staring into his eyes, you silently pleaded him to continue. The corners of his mouth lifted into a gentle smile as his pearly white teeth barely peeked through his lips. “From the moment I saw you on my first day back, I knew I was screwed,” he grinned. “I wanted to hate you so badly but you were so perfect, how could I?”

A rosy flush crept onto your face at his heartfelt words. “You were alone in the studio two hours before any classes started and you were just playing your heart out,” Yoongi remembered the day clearly, the vivid details of the first time he encountered resurfacing like the fresh morning air after a rainstorm. The way his heart raced in his chest made it seem like it had just happened yesterday. 

“I thought you were some competition kid who got a free pass into school because of personal connections or an arranged acceptance, but I just heard you playing and—” he chuckled, shaking his head again. 

“You weren’t just reading notes and playing the piece like a robot; you were breathing the music and I could feel it.” Yoongi’s fingers stroked the palm of your hand. “I could feel you. In every single piece I’ve ever heard you play: Campanella, Liebestraum, Fantaisie, Moonlight Sonata...”

Your pulse was racing like the engine of a sports car. Judging by how confidently he listed down the pieces, he knew each of those pieces by heart, recalling each exact moment when you had played the melodies like a page out of the book of his recollections. Campanella was the piece you’d chosen for your junior year exam, Liebestraum your senior, Fantaisie was simply one you practiced for fun, and Moonlight Sonata was the piece Powell had asked you to play for an exhibition recently. 

“I tried so hard to avoid you and hate you and completely despise your existence,” he scoffed at himself. “You glowed brighter than the stars when you played. Seeing it from you made it hurt so much more because I missed that feeling more than anything,” he paused. “But I couldn’t. I was already in too deep, so I just ignored you.”

For the first time, a lengthy and comfortable silence befell the two of you.

“I didn’t know what who I wanted to be until I started college,” you admitted suddenly, confidence stemming from the seed Yoongi had planted with his truth. 

“My mom taught me how to play the piano when I was four. She’d put me in her lap while she played and let me press the keys.” You chuckled at the flashback. “I didn’t think much of it until I fell entirely in love with it in middle school. It was this weird need, this urge to play whenever I was happy, angry, sad, annoyed, and frustrated. I felt like it was the only friend who understood me better than the actual people I knew.”

Yoongi gave you an understanding smile, sympathizing with your logic by the nature of personal experience. 

“In high school, everyone thought I was the one who had my whole life plotted out like a map: a loving family, supportive parents, good grades.” A ghost of a smile grazed your face at the distant memory. It felt so close and yet so far like you could reach out and touch it, yet it was a fingertip’s length from being torn away from you.  

“During senior year, I found out that I really didn’t have a passion for anything. Not even for music—at the time,” you filled in. “I shut everyone out with these gates I built. I hated how lonely I was, but who else could I blame? I didn’t want people to see me for who I thought I was: a passionless, unmotivated, lazy, worthless failure who would never amount to anything.” 

Shaking your head, tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision, yet refused to cry over something as stupid and insignificant as this. Seeing this, Yoongi simply laced his fingers through yours firmly, wordlessly showing his support for your endurance. 

“I auditioned for fun one day after seeing the posters stapled across our school’s bulletin board. Didn’t expect much at the time since I didn’t think you could do anything with a degree in music, and in the beginning, I actually thought I was right,” you laughed wryly at yourself. 

“Undergrad was pretty awful. Playing as a student with a major was so much different than playing for fun. I was so stressed with deadlines and projects and practice hours, I almost forgot why I started playing in the first place.” Your mind wandered back to the long, sleepless nights you spent in the studios trying to perfect what would never even come close to the synonym of perfection.

“Then in my sophomore year, I got to take more classes with Powell and he completely changed my life. I wish I was exaggerating, but he really did change who I was as a person, not just a dazed university student. I don’t think I’d still be here without him.”

Your lips formed into a tender smile. “I started getting my passion for playing back and I learned to appreciate the value of my scholarship. I guess now, I’m just hanging in the middle.” Yoongi’s eyes studied your features intently, concentration remaining unswayed for the entirety of your release of emotions. 

A couple moments skimmed by before you resumed speaking. 

“I like spending time at coffee shops, taking the bus to the bookstore when I have free time, and sometimes I even make an effort to actually greet some of the people there—but I like being alone,” you admitted. Yoongi’s ears perked up at your last phrase.

“I like doing things by myself and being able to have control over everything in my life so that I don’t have anyone to blame other than me when shit goes downhill,” you rambled, swallowing your words while you spoke like bitter medicine. Yoongi’s smoldering gaze, as it lay on you, was intense enough to start forest fires.

You sighed heavily. “But frankly, I don’t like being lonely.” The confession bled past your lips like spilled ink from a bottle, leaving a splattered and stained trail as it seeped through your mind. 

“No one does,” he responded honestly. Directing your watery eyes to his softened gaze, you looked down at the pair of your hands entwined together.

What was this in his eyes? 

Who were you to him?

Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t waste a single second before cupping the sides of your face and bringing you into a kiss. The force took you by surprise and made you land on your back with a soft thud, causing you to burst into a fit of laughter against his lips.

It didn’t take you longer than a couple of flashes in your brain synapses to give into his magnetizing touch. Making out on a hilltop in front of the city lights never crossed the line of sounding appealing other than outside of a cheesy rom-com, but Yoongi’s warm lips preoccupied every train of logical thought that ran cross your mind. God, what was he doing to you? 

You’d slept with him once and you still managed to get butterflies like a giddy teenager who was in their first relationship; immature and blind with infatuation. You tangled your hands through his hair like second nature as his weight pressed on top of you, making you feel secure under him. The kiss was tender and patient—a stark contrast to the last time you had locked lips with him. 

“Can I be alone with you?” he asked suddenly, breath fanning across your lips because he refused to pull away farther than three centimeters from you. 

You laughed heartily, making him flash his pearly whites and peeking pink gums again. “Is this your dumb way of asking me out?” Smiling widely in response, his lips connected with yours again, effectively shutting you up. 

“I don’t want to pretend like I don’t have feelings for you anymore, _____,” he murmured into your ear. “Do you know how hard it’s been having to act like I hate your guts for the past three years when I can’t stop thinking about you on a regular basis?” 

Another awfully timed blush graced the tops of your cheeks. You shoved his shoulder playfully at his seemingly sarcastic yet sincere compliment. “Stop being such a softie, it’s gross.” Yoongi pouted, feigning hurt at your teasing comment. His childish face made you burst into laughter, vibrant and full of life. You’d swear on your life that he had a million personalities buried deep underneath that facade of a stone-cold gargoyle. 

Biting your lip, you shook your head, picking at the grass to distract yourself. “What if I’m sleeping and this is all some dream that’s way too good to be true?” you mumbled. How did you go from avoiding each other like water and oil to melding perfectly like paper and ink? 

“Then it’d be your dream and my nightmare...” he murmured, keeping his forehead pressed against yours as his lips remained centimeters away from contact.

You laughed shyly, shoving him away teasingly at his admirably honest nature. “So three years, huh?” 

Again, Yoongi chose not to respond, allowing you to take note of yet another one of his habits: refusing to answer a question he knew he was guilty of.  

You only had one shitty, wonderful, stressful, joyous, short life. Might as well make it worth living with what you were given. 

As you gazed deeply into the dark eyes that belonged to the person who you once thought hated your very being, you realized that you were entirely and utterly screwed—because you were completely captivated by each other. 

The best part? You had a million more reasons to discover exactly why. 

Relationships were never you or Yoongi’s thing. Whereas the typical couple would spend hours at a time arguing over stupid things, trying to work it out but only tearing their hair out in clumps and eventually breaking up, you never saw the point in arguing in general. If you argued with your partner, you would request to break up. Simple. Clean. Painless. Well, at least for one.

It was a really black and white way of seeing the complex web that composed a relationship, but to you, it was just blatantly obvious. Some called you cold but that was just another opinion. 

Why argue if you’re “in love” with each other? Why fight if you’re “in love” with each other? Why hurt the person you love if you can choose not to be with them and let them be happy? Holding onto people for the sake of a quote on quote, “relationship” despite hurting each other was selfish and pointless. 

To you, that wasn’t love. It was self-sabotage. 

“You okay?” Yoongi’s voice peeped from above you, mumbling into your hair. 

“Hm?” you hummed, snapping out of your daze. He chuckled deeply at your deeply unwavering expression, pressing a kiss to the top of your head tenderly. You were currently tangled in the sheets of his bed after waking up from a nap. Today marked the first week of your official relationship and you had to admit, it was pretty nice. 

Okay, nice was an understatement. It was perfect. 

You had yet to get into an argument, as both of you had quite passive and anti-argumentative personalities. Then again, you were still technically in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, so it was bound to pop up at some point. 

Your days together were few and far between spending time in the studio practicing, sleeping over at his dorm (courtesy of his ever-so diligently working resident advisor), walking each other to class, texting and video calling for hours until one of you fell asleep, and occasionally going up to the viewpoint when the weather conditions proved to be favorable—and you had chugged four cups of coffee. 

It was like something of a fairytale, and you were always worried that you’d wake up one day to find out that it was just that: a false reality you had conjured up in your own head. But if it was a dream, it was one you never wanted to wake up from.

“Hold still,” you scolded for the tenth time. 

Yoongi grumbled. “I’m trying, but it’s hard when you’re tickling my neck.”  

Huffing at his fidgety muscles, you blew a hair out of your face and kept your hands busy. “It wasn’t my idea to dye your hair, dummy.” He hummed an off-beat tune in response to your incessant scolds. 

In the early hours of the morning, you had gotten a text from your loving and selfless boyfriend that he needed to save a few bucks and needed to touch up his hair. You, being the only other person he spoke in the whole universe (practically), so graciously agreed. It was about five minutes into the hands-on activity that you were beginning to regret your generous and giving disposition. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to deal with the fumes of bleach as Yoongi had opted to dye his hair back to his natural dark brown color. He mentioned something about his growing lazy temperament and it becoming too time-consuming to continuously touch up the dark roots every few weeks. It wasn’t exactly the best for his hair either, the blonde ends breaking off due to the harsh chemicals and his inability to spare the extra five minutes to use conditioner. 

“Then why did you dye it in the first place?” you laughed, dumbfounded at his odd reasoning. 

Mumbling something in an inaudible hush, you shot him a confused glance. "I was going through a phase...” he said clearer this time, tucking his chin down in shame. 

Lifting your eyebrows, you nodded, accepting his answer and sensing that he wasn’t going to elaborate any time soon. “You know, you could just let it grow out and style it like that, grown out roots and everything” you offered. “I’ve seen a few celebrities who pull it off pretty well.” 

“Eh,” he let out a disgruntled sound, crinkling one of his eyes.

You snorted through your nose from holding in your laugh, making him flinch as your breath tickled his sensitive neck again. “Sorry,” you giggled. Continuing brushing the pitch-black gel over his roots, you were trying to be careful and not let it get on his skin. As far as your experience in hair dye went, the stains would wash out easily with some warm water and soap, but you didn’t enjoy the extensive process of cleanup it would lead to. 

“Does it bother you?” you asked, referring to the color differentiation of dark roots to beige blonde hair during the grow-out process. 

Thinking over it for a minute, Yoongi pouted and gave into his perfectionist attitude as he clicked his tongue with a “yup.” Holding back a grin at his undeniably soft personality, you couldn’t believe that you still hadn’t woken up yet. You intentionally blew a puff of air in his ear, causing him to jolt from his seat. 

“Hey!” he was the one to scold this time. 

“My advisor is going to kill me.” 

“If you die, I’ll kill you.” 

Scrunching your nose at his menacing threat that made absolutely no sense, he let out a sleepy grumble, nestling his head into your hair and inhaling your scent. 

“Just because your advisor is shit at his job, doesn’t mean that mine doesn't notice when I’m gone,” you pointed out. 

Yoongi mumbled lazily into your hair in the hopes that you’d drop the topic and go to sleep. It was an idle Friday night and the two of you had spent the entire day at the studio practicing the piece. Since you only had classes from Mondays to Thursdays, you got into a routine of meeting up and spending the whole free day in the studios. 

The last day of the week was what Yoongi looked forward to more than anything because it usually ended with you burying yourselves in his bed sheets with a random episode of The Office playing on your laptop and falling asleep tangled in each other. 

“Yoongi,” you groaned. “What if I get in trouble?” 

He hummed something inaudible into your chest once again, tickling your collarbone with his whispers. No way were you letting him fall asleep that easily. It was only fifteen minutes past 8. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Poking his shoulder playfully, his mouth was still closed, indicating that he was indeed fully awake. He always parted his mouth slightly when he was asleep, another habit you picked up early on the way before your relationship started.  

Then an idea struck you. There was that favor you needed to repay him for...

Prying your body away from his arms gently, you bit your lip coyly, smirking at his clueless sleeping body. Your hand trailed down to the band of his sweatpants slowly, making him gulp. Running your fingers along the bundle of fabric near his hipbone, you were surprised when your hand met his already-hard length. 

Yoongi’s eyes were now fully open as you shot him a questioning gaze. “Your fault for being so goddamn attractive all the time...” he defended, jutting his lower lip into a pout and not bothering to hide his blatantly obvious hard-on. 

Dropping your mouth in a mock offended gape, you raised your eyebrows as a chuckle of disbelief came out. “I haven’t even touched you yet!” 

“I get hard just thinking about you,” he admitted all-too casually. Smacking him on the shoulder from embarrassment, you shook your head and couldn’t help but bury your face in his chest. 

“It amazes me the same Min Yoongi who despised me a few months ago would turn out to be the softest cheeseball I know,” you scoffed. 

Kissing your nose, he wrapped his arms around you and turned onto his back, rolling you on top of him. The change of angle made you immediately feel his hardness pressing under you. You rested your chin on his chest innocently, rolling the piling lint on his shirt between your fingers. 

Yoongi’s eyes started drifting off again, too tired to keep the ball rolling, but not before giving you another idea. Keeping your chin resting atop his chest, you began rolling your hips slowly against his, making him suddenly choke while exhaling. 

Lifting his head to look down at your seductive grin, you batted your eyelashes sweetly, feigning innocence as you continued grinding your hips over the growing tent in his pants. 

“_____,” he whined, rubbing his tired eyes. “You know there’s nothing or anyone I’d rather be doing right now, but I’m a little sleepy.” Pressing a swift kiss to his lips, you ignored his excuses and slid down to pull down his sweats. 

“Who said you had to do anything?” Your voice was too cocky for your own good and Yoongi was, as he had mentioned, too tired to even sit up and watch what you were doing. You had all of him to yourself and at your mercy. 

Snapping the band of his boxers against his skin, Yoongi let out another soft whine as he started growing more impatient and harder with your teasing pace. His clothed member was straining against the tight cotton of his briefs and made you lick your lips in anticipation. 

You palmed him through the thin fabric, drawing out teasing him for as long as possible to make his pleasure greater in the long run, but it forced another throaty growl out of his mouth. His gruff tone made wetness pool immediately between the junction of your thighs. 

Unable to handle your own slow pace for much longer, you yanked down his briefs in one swift tug as his length immediately sprung out against his toned stomach. It was just as perfect as you had remembered. 

You were seconds away from biting your lip to the point of breaking the skin. Wrapping your hand around his hardness like a magnet, it throbbed underneath your fingers, already oozing precum from the red and swollen tip. Each time you pumped up and down his length, it caused a bead to well up and pool around his slit. Fuck—how was he was so perfect?

“_____,” he moaned through a strangled whine. Watching his face with every precise stroke, Yoongi’s face flushed bright pink as he clenched his jaw and rubbed his forehead in frustration. Words of encouragement weren’t needed to put an end to your teasing; your own blooming arousal took care of that. 

Gnawing on your lower lip, you couldn’t hold back your desire anymore as your tongue darted out to lick a slow line along his tip, grazing the dimple of his sensitive slit with the flat edge of your tongue. He arched his back off of the bed instantly and almost came with a single touch. 

Unable to talk and already breathless from the contact he had been waiting for since that night, you peppered kisses down his thick member and licked a stripe on the prominent vein beside his tip, causing him to jolt again. Your core throbbed seeing him in such a vulnerable state, while Yoongi knew that at that exact moment, he belonged to you, and only you.  

Finally wrapping your lips around his head, your tongue smoothed over his cock, sucking with just the right amount of pressure to keep his nails digging into the mattress. Swirling your tongue around the tip tantalizingly slowly, you guided his hands into your hair, directing him silently to tug your tresses. 

Obeying instantly with a moan, lewd sounds began filling the room as you began bobbing up and down mercilessly, varying your speed and pressure occasionally to keep him on edge. You even went as far as to grasp him with your hand and drag his tip across your slick and swollen lips which earned you another deep moan from him.  

“Fucking hell,” he moaned, throat raspy and rough from holding back his cries of pleasure. Pausing your unholy administrations, you gave your jaw a break by gripping his base tightly with one hand and swirling your tongue around the index finger of your free hand. He craned his head back in an overload of pleasure as you used it to rub over his slit, toying with his red tip. 

Everyone had a different piece of advice regarding giving head. Some said you needed to focus on the tip; others said that the balls were highly disregarded; a few said that the spot where the head met the length was the most sensitive. All in all, it really depended on the person, and to be quite honest, you weren’t that experienced. 

Yoongi was an exception, as both of you had learned your respective kinks out of genuine interest and desire for mutual pleasure, not as a nagging chore or contract payback. 

Not to mention the first time you’d slept with each other was—enlightening. 

“Fuck, _____,” he growled, moving your hair out of your face to gaze into your eyes. “How are you so fucking perfect?” Huh—even when he was blissed out, he was still the romantic type. 

You broke your character of confidence as a shy grin escaped. Wrapping your mouth around him again, he let out a grunt and threw his head back onto the bed. The sloppy, obscene sounds returned once you repeated your actions, his knuckles moving out of your hair to grip the bed sheets for fear of hurting you. His fists were clenched so hard, his knuckles were white. 

Yoongi’s body grew warm, a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead, and he began pulsating in your mouth more frequently; he was close. Closing your hand around his throbbing length, you gripped him firmly and coordinated your pumps with your mouth, making him throw his head back in pure ecstasy. 

His hands found their way back to your hair, trying to pull you away as a warning that he would cum soon, but you swatted them away. Grabbing your hands instead, he laced his fingers through yours in a death grip, heart pounding so hard that it nearly burst through his ribcage. 

His pants grew increasingly urgent and his moans were primal. He found his release with the cry of your name as his cock shot hot spurts of cum into your throat and on your readily cupped tongue. The sensation of him throbbing in your mouth as his breathing calmed down was such a powerful feeling, and add to it the pleasure of seeing him writhe in pleasure beneath your fingertips? 

It sounded like a recipe for a perfect Friday night in both you and Yoongi’s books. 

Sucking his remaining release off of his softening length, you savored the satisfying, salty taste like fine wine as it coated your tongue and throat. It felt so wrong but too right. You wiped off whatever you could from his spent cock, hating to waste anything. Once you were done, you tugged his boxers back on as Yoongi brought you into his hold and wasted no time kissing you deeply, exploring your mouth with his tongue. 

Parting your mouth to calm your breathing, Yoongi’s eyes bore into yours with blown out pupils, still coming down from his high. “I didn’t know that’s what you meant by sleepyhead.” His euphoric chuckle reverberated like the baritone of a bass. 

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do that?” you moaned softly under your breath, licking the remnants of his release off of your index finger as you nestled into his side.

He gazed at you warmly as his mouth broke into a gummy smile and eyes into half-moons. “That’s supposed to be my line.” 

Suddenly, a mischievous expression glassed over his features. You narrowed your eyes. “What is that face?” Smirking with a sinister gaze, Yoongi was now wide awake, giving you no time before flipping you onto your back and tickling your sides. 

“Hey!” you giggled, trying to swat away his arms like flies. Without giving you a formal warning, he tugged down your shorts making you yelp in surprise when the cold air hit your dripping core. 

Licking his lips in excitement and carnal instinct, he flashed a far too innocent grin at you before he delved in, unable to hold back his mundane hunger for another second. 

It was going to be a long weekend.

Digging around the fridge, a bundle of asparagus landed in Yoongi’s hand as he caught it mid-air from falling. You were already crouched down and braced for impact, but unfurled your wound arms, taking a peek at the grinning figure above you. 

“You okay there?” Yoongi’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, helping you up from your hunched position. Taking the bag from his hands, you beamed at him in response, turning back to the stovetop. 

He sighed. “You really didn’t have to stock up my fridge, you know.” Sneaking a carrot off of your cutting board, he popped it into his mouth like a 12-year old badgering their mother in the kitchen. “The apocalypse isn’t until—” he snuck a glance at his imaginary watch, filling his cheeks with air and pursing his lips into a puffer-fish face pout. “—400 years from now.”

You rolled your eyes at his ever sarcastic jokes. “If the apocalypse doesn’t kill you, your diet of energy drinks and expired caffeine shots will,” you lectured. 

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile warmheartedly. Not at your nurturing actions, but at you. He still felt like this was all a dream, too good to be true. Wrapping his arms around your waist, you fit into his larger frame like a lock and key as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck. 

“What’s on the menu today?” he asked, voice producing ticklish vibrations just under the shell of your ear. 

Turning to face him, you scrunched your nose. He wasn’t just a cheeseball—he was officially the biggest, softest, sweetest, weirdest, and most amazing person you had ever met. You never thought you’d say anything even remotely close to that in your entire life.

“Your favorite,” you answered in a sing-song voice. 

The corners of his mouth turned up into a cheeky smirk you knew too well. His hands trailed down slowly to your hipbones, rubbing soothing circles into them out of habit. He licked over his bottom lip teasingly, all while keeping his eyes glued on you. Yours were focused on washing the rice. 

“Yoongi,” you warned playfully, knowing his expressions like the back of your hand. You could feel his eyes drinking in your features, your very existence an oasis for him, a once deserted and desperate man. “Don’t even think about it.” 

He pouted, jutting his lip out as his eyebrows furrowed into a dramatic scowl. “But I’m hungry!” he whined impishly into your hair. 

“I’m making lunch,” you giggled. “Just wait.” Your eyes widened at the last word, emphasizing your point. 

Trailing gentle pecks long your neck, he murmured softly into your ear.  “Not for fried rice...”

Your hands froze in the midst of opening the bag of spinach.

“Yoongi!” you groaned. 

Another Wednesday, another solitary four hours spent in the studio alone. After your classes were over, you texted Yoongi saying you needed a few hours alone to practice freely. Just because you were in a relationship didn’t mean you had to spend every waking moment with each other. 

Besides, he and you were both aware of your respective personal space and private time you needed to spend doing your own things. Yoongi also mentioned that he needed to finish up a beat he was making for a friend, so it worked out well. 

You walked out of the studio with a scarf wrapped around your neck, sheltering you from the biting wind that graced the campus grounds. Skipping down the stairs, you were greeted by the back of a person whom you had become very well-acquainted with. 

Hearing the sound of your gleeful steps he had memorized down to the last click, he turned around—with a pair of to-go cups in his hands. 

Your eyebrows raised up as your mouth broke into a mixture of an endeared laugh and astonished chuckle. Leaning down, he pecked you on the cheek, feeling his heart flutter at your effortless beauty. 

“Was she even real?” he wondered.

“You didn’t have to,” you awed. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to get dinner anyway.” 

Yoongi handed you the cup marked with the symbols you knew by heart: double-shot of espresso, a pump of mocha, a single packet of hazelnut creamer, and two packets of sugar. 

“Your hands need to stay warm,” he insisted, rubbing over your hands that were now wrapped tightly around the cup. 

Biting your lip, your cheeks were hurting from smiling so much at the simple but meaningful gesture. “Thank you,” you blushed sincerely, not just from the wave of emotions that washed over you but also from the cold. 

Was he even real? 

You nearly twisted your ankle trying to catch up to his speed-walking figure. 

“Hey!” you shouted, panting heavily at how quick he was on his feet. Was he training for a marathon behind your back? “Yoongi! Hold–wait up! Slow down!”

No matter what you said, it didn’t seem to faze him as he continued walking. Hunching over and putting your hands on your bent knees to hold yourself up, you took a couple deep breaths before sprinting as fast as your burning legs could carry you. 

“Min fucking Yoongi, if you don’t stop right now, I will—” You didn’t manage to finish your sentence before stumbling over a jagged crack in the pavement and falling with a gasp. The impact was abrupt, the shock not giving you a chance to let out a proper scream. Silent accidents were the ones that hurt the most. 

Yoongi was by your side in the blink of an eye, almost tripping over the ditch himself when he ran back to you. “_____!” he shouted in pure panic. Well, that certainly broke his vow of silence...

Helping you get off of your stomach and sit up straight, he winced when he saw your forearm. The injury was nothing more than a wide scrape on the damp cement, but the rocky debris and dripping crimson trail made it appear all the more appealing for a Stephen King movie. 

You cringed at the wound yourself, but more so at the stinging pain that began to spread over your elbow. Minor cuts and scratches were gifts sent from Satan himself. The thought of it getting infected made Yoongi pull out a pack of tissues from his bag as he pressed the bundle firmly over your wound. His face was still locked in an uncomfortable grimace. 

“Let’s go back to my dorm. I have a first-aid kit,” he mumbled, helping you onto your feet and bending down on one knee. You raised your eyebrow at his odd position, only realizing a few seconds afterward that he was offering you a piggyback ride. 

You let out a nasal scoff. “Yoongi, my legs are still perfectly mobile. Get up before you get your clothes wet.” You had enough to deal with his bitchy mood today and it certainly didn’t help that it had been raining a few hours prior to his temper tantrum. 

He pressed his lips into a firm line, refusing to respond or get up from his crouched position. Was he messing around? After a minute of complete silence, you huffed, annoyed at his ridiculous and adamant form of an apology, and saddled onto his back. 

Hooking his arms beneath your knees as you looped yours around his neck, you realized how much of a cheeky shit he truly was. Yes, he hated acknowledging it, but even he knew how ridiculous this argument and wanted to use the close proximity a piggyback would give to his advantage—even though the two of you were as stubborn as garden weeds. 

“Are you going to talk to me now?” you asked, propping your chin comfortably on his shoulder like a perched bird as he began walking the two of you back to his dorm. 

Sniffling once, he prodded the inside of his cheek in an effort to distract himself, too prideful to answer you right away. 

“Yoongi...” you sighed faintly, saying his name the way you did whenever he tugged at your heartstrings. He exhaled harshly through his nose once before finally speaking. 

“I don’t like how nice you are,” he said bluntly with an obviously sheepish tone of shame coating his voice. What?

“What?” you repeated out loud this time, unable to hold back your animated face of utter confusion.  

When he didn’t reply, you tugged on his ears like you were scolding a child who’d just been caught licking dollops of icing straight from the piping bag. “Min Yoongi,” you called out half-threateningly. 

He let out a whiny grumble, a sound that was a combination of a grumpy obese cat and worn out AC motor. 

“I don’t like how nice you are to everyone,” he repeated. “Especially to guys.” 

Your mouth was parted in an ‘o’ shape and your eyes were narrowed like an animated character’s. Was he—no way...

Your eyes widened to the size of the moon when he blushed. Oh my God. “You’re jealous?!” you screeched. He jumped at the volume of your voice. It was the first time he had ever heard you genuinely scream and he imagined it was what you would sound like if you were at a concert. 

Were you a Liszt or Chopin person? Rachmaninoff? Maybe Beethoven? He nibbled on his lips to hide his grin. Why were you so cute? 

“Earth to Yoongi?” you deadpanned, waving your hands in front of his face to get his attention. Snapping his eyes to you and blinking out of his daze, he returned to his stern expression. Tipping your head to one side, you stared at him with half-lidded eyes, tired of his antics. 

No wonder relationships didn’t last long; human beings were naturally and wholeheartedly stubborn as fuck. Flaring your nostrils at his unyielding disposition, you clicked your tongue between your teeth, resorting to blatant, unfiltered honesty. 

“Jungkook was just being helpful—and I was being polite.” Enunciating the word, Yoongi paid no attention to it, as it wasn’t one he had registered in his dictionary. 

There it was. Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat at your ability to lay out your non-implicit thoughts onto the table. “You could’ve told me he was the idiot who told you where my dorm was when you were hauling me into my room that day.” He defended his reasoning, still unconvinced. 

“I didn’t even know who he was until we met him today,” you groaned, repeating what you had said earlier for the fifth time. This was all so torturously textbook newly-blooming relationship bullcrap and was making your head pound in your skull. 

Jungkook, the boy you’d seen that day when you dragged Yoongi down his dorm corridor and who had directed you to where his room was, recognized you during lunch today. Being the social butterfly and sweetheart he was, he found it in his best interest to introduce himself to you formally.

During the conversation, which lasted just short of a minute and a half, Yoongi’s glare was practically burning crater-sized holes into Jungkook’s face the entire time, imagining his face as target objects ranging from a checkered dartboard to a chipped wooden knife block. 

He jutted his lower lip into his signature pout. “Well I didn’t exactly enjoy seeing the little prick recognize you and shout like he’d just won the damn lottery...” he remarked bitterly, irritation directed purely towards Jungkook and not you. 

“Did he really not have a better way to grab your attention? I was this close to filing a lawsuit for hearing damage.” Unable to bring his fingers up to mimic a pinch, he narrowed his eyes tightly instead. “Nearly burst my damn eardrum running over to you and calling you 'superwoman lady...’”

“Yoongi,” you hummed, a chuckle escaping your lips like a song. “You’re jealous because of some sophomore who happened to recognize me from carrying her boyfriend—” you emphasized. “—to his dorm room because he was sick?” 

Coming to terms with your lawful point, he mumbled something under his breath that you could’ve sworn was, “Not back then I wasn't.” 

“I’m in love with you, you idiot.” Poking fun at his jealous side, it was quite endearing to know that he cared about you to the extent of fuming like a kettle in the presence of other guys. Grabbing one side of his face with one hand, you gave him an affectionate peck on his cheek, causing him to blush like a middle-schooler. God, he was so innocent. 

After a couple more leisure paces in the direction of the boys' dorm, you stopped for a moment to look at you properly. 

“I still think you’re too nice,” he closed with a ‘hmph,’ continuing his way back to his room. You could only hold back your hearty smile for so long before it burst. 

“No freaking way, buddy,” you scoffed. Tossing another kernel of popcorn into your mouth, Yoongi pointed to his open mouth. Popping one into his, respectively, you returned to your bantering debate. 

“Liszt is obviously far superior to Chopin,” Yoongi remarked snarkily. You’d gone over this for the past hour, killing time while the pre-packaged cookie dough you bough baked in the oven. 

Another sarcastic puff of air left your lips. “Are you kidding me? Other than the fact that he had freakishly large hands and made a pact with Paganini and sacrificed both of their souls to the Devil, I don’t think this is even a real topic up for grabs.” 

Snatching the kernel from your fingers in the midst of bringing it to your mouth, Yoongi chortled at your gaping jaw. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” His straightforward and genuine eyebrow raise made you shrug. 

“I don’t know. You listen to La Campanella and tell me.” Mirroring his inquisitive expression and raising your eyebrow, his voice vibrated in a lengthy hum. 

“Hm... Well played, _____. Well played...” Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, trying his best to seem intimidating like a dollar store Sherlock Holmes. “But you mastered Campanella in your junior year, so who’s the real soul-sacrificing Devil here?” 

You poked your tongue out, launching another piece of popcorn into his readily awaiting mouth to shut him up. However, your aim was a little too northbound and it ended up hitting his forehead. You laughed to the point where your stomach was cramping. You assumed it was karma taking your side. 

Days blurred into weeks and before you knew it, it was the night before the performance exam. No matter how many times you’d been forced by your school assignments to play for an audience, it never ceased to get your heart pumping—for the wrong reasons.

Sighing, you flung your body into your freshly washed bed sheets. It was only 10, but you figured since it would take you a few hours to fall asleep from the nerves, it’d probably be best to knock out early. 

“Not too late to sneak over and cuddle with me, you know,” a voice reverberated from your phone speaker. 

You chuckled at Yoongi’s determined and unwavering stubbornness that stemmed from his giddy fondness for you. Your advisor had eventually caught you sneaking into your dorm room a few days ago and if you had, oddly enough, listened to Yoongi’s pestering and stayed in his room for the night, you wouldn’t be on room lockdown right about now. You felt like a prisoner in your own dorm. 

Wrapping the blanket around yourself like a swaddle, you hid your gleeful smile with the bundle of sheets as his equally gummy grin displayed on the bright screen of your phone. Both of your room lights were all off so his cheeky face was all the more visible. 

“She let me off easy and didn’t give me a suspension and that was because I’m one of the good students on this block,” you reminded. “I don’t think I want to push my luck.” 

Yoongi huffed exasperatedly, irked that he wouldn’t be able to hold you tonight. “Are you ungrounded tomorrow?” He spoke in pout. That damn pout...

Burying your face in your blankets and clamping your hand over your mouth to hide your squeal, your mind couldn’t help but wander to the crude beginnings of your relationship. Was this real? 

“Yup,” you mumbled sluggishly through the fabric. “You’re buying dinner after the performance is over.”

Letting out a sigh, he lied down on his bed and rested his hand comfortably beneath his head, allowing you to get a full glimpse of his body, only now realizing that he was shirtless. Despite the darkness that cascaded both of your rooms, you could clearly see the definition of his lean but built muscles, the veins on his forearm rippling with each time he shifted on his mattress. 

“Who gave you permission to be so hot?” you yawned out, accidentally letting the lewd thought slip past your lips as you grew increasingly sleepy with each sentence. He laughed huskily in a low voice, admiring your state of sleep-drunkenness, as you liked to call it. 

His raspy voice wasn’t just the thing you’re ears were blessed with in the mornings, but also at night when he was equally as exhausted as you. It was like a second piano to your ears, lulling you to sleep each time whether it was through video calls or cradled by his side.  

Bundling the sheets around his body, you whined faintly at the loss of your favorite sight. “I don’t know, my girlfriend. She’s cool or whatever,” he whispered, eyes beginning to droop shut like yours. “But don’t tell her I said that.” 

The word still felt like a new muscle stitched his tongue, every sentence that contained it sounding a million times better with the coined phrase. Yoongi continued cherishing his new reality: he had a girlfriend and it was you. 

You couldn’t respond with words, just a fuzzy, softhearted grin. “Love you, dummy,” you yawned again. 

Yoongi yawned in tandem with you, lips curling into the gummy smile you loved.  “I love you, _____...” he managed to say before allowing sleep to consume him.  

Neither of you even bothered to end the call, a habit you had developed from the hundreds of times you had rung each other and fallen asleep to each other’s voices. The first few times resulted in you both waking up with absolutely no battery and having to forgo your phones for the whole day, however, you quickly learned that splurging $30 on a portable charger just for these occasions was well worth it. 

What if you mess up? Are your hands warm enough? 

What if you forget a section? You should’ve fit in a few extra hours in the studio yesterday. 

What if your fingers cramp up? 

Did you remember to take an Advil? Should you have taken two? 

A million questions pestered your mind like a plague, buzzing and ringing in your ears loud enough to make a swarm of steroid-filled bees jealous. Pacing around backstage as the muffled sounds from the auditorium filled the space, you were a few paces away from boring holes into the ground. Performance jitters were the worst and your anxiety made them all the more unbearable. 

“Hey,” Yoongi interrupted, placing his hands on your shoulders to snap you out of your pool of overwhelming thoughts. “Calm down. Breathe. You’re starting to make me nervous.” 

Running your hands through your hair, you groaned and uttered out another apology. Why were you so stressed out? It wasn’t a full audience. Just your entire class plus the comp majors and table of judgmental executioners, more commonly known as the board of music teachers. The entirety of their presence was the icing on top of your cake of nightmares. God, what you would do for a slice of double-chocolate cake right about now...

“What—” you started but Yoongi knew better to cut you off early and derail your train of thought before it arrived at the station. 

He cupped his hands around your flustered cheeks, his cooling touch bringing relief to the blistering hot skin that began to rise with your heartbeat. 

“Do you know how absolutely phenomenal these past few months have been?” Articulating his words in unison with his heartfelt gaze, his thumbs stroked over your cheeks softly, assuring you wholeheartedly with the fewest words he could. 

“I know how much pressure you put on yourself, but I also know how much more you love playing the piano,” he spoke soothingly. “Don’t think about them or messing up. Hell, don’t even think about sticking to what we fixed and picked on during practice.”

He brought you into his arms, making you lean onto his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat that thumped through his shirt. “Think about enjoying it to the point of not having any regrets. Of what it feels like while you play. Think about how you love it unconditionally through thick and thin, and how you wouldn’t give up anything in the world to let it go.” 

His words flowed like a stream in your head, smoothing over the rocky slopes of your worries and fears and replacing them with ripples of passion and confidence. Just as you pressed a kiss to his lips, the stage coordinator signaled to you with a frantic wave. It was your turn. 

Yoongi held onto your hands tightly for just a moment before giving you a small grin and going to find a seat in the audience. You took a deep breath. You only had one chance at this; you were going to make it count. 

Taking even-paced steps onto the stage, you closed your eyes and murmured a  wordless prayer to whoever might be listening. Whether that’d be the piano gods themselves or the ibuprofen coursing through your bloodstream and numbing your nerves, it didn’t matter. You needed to play for you. 

Not hesitating or wasting any more valuable seconds, your fingers brushed the cold keys, a sudden rush of eagerness filling your previously buzzing nerves. Your muscle memory activated like the flick of a light switch, the soft melody of the beginning exposition filling the echoey stage all the way to the back of the concert hall. 

Your fingers stroked the keys with such accuracy and precision, nailing each of the complex chords with ease. The development was coming up next. Changing your tempo from the quick-paced and exciting beginning to a mellow and even-toned pace, a pre-recorded track suddenly flooded through the onstage speakers but you didn’t have time to react.

You could recognize that beat from a million miles away. 

It was the same solemn tune that Yoongi was playing in the studio that night alone; same melodic chorus, orchestral strings, deep bass, and right down to the synth pad that started towards the end of the section. The flowing melody and tempo blended with your playing harmoniously, producing a euphonious sound that pushed you to play with more urgency and passion. 

The unexpected harmony made you smile, on the verge of tears as you could only comprehend one message that rang as clear as a bell: he wrote this for you. 

Before you knew it, you were already finished with the last recapitulation, the final remaining notes trailing off gently into what you assumed would be the end of the track, like that night, but it didn’t stop. It continued into another excerpt that melded perfectly with the coda you’d composed; vibrant, fuller, lively, vivid, and colorful—happy. 

The full-bodied and adagio resonance of Yoongi’s composed track with what sounded like a philharmonic orchestra and synth board contrasted like day and night from your constantly moving fingers. High off of the adrenaline of playing and euphoria of music, you paid no attention to the burning that had spread in your fingers during the first two minutes of the piece, instead choosing to bask in the utter state of bliss you were in.  

The track slowed down in sync with your playing, toning down the fast-paced and riveting chorus that had reverberated through the room seconds ago and replacing with it with the delicate and gentle closing notes that finished the piece.

It was over. You did it.

A momentary pause enveloped the auditorium, silence washing over the audience like a crashing tide. Your fingers were resting on the keys for a second before a roar of applause replaced the dead silent concert hall. 

You did it.

The panel of teachers were all standing on their feet, their warm smiles and nods of approval and continuous claps almost making tears trail down your cheeks. Looking around the crowd of people to try and find Yoongi, a finger gently tapped your shoulder, making you turn around with glassy eyes.

There he stood in all his gummy cheesiness, smiling his heart out. You sniffled, unable to hold back the tidal wave of tears that overwhelmed you as you burst into sobs and threw yourself into the safety of his arms. Enveloping you into his ever-warm and comforting embrace, he pressed soft kisses on the crown of your head, keeping you secure in his hold. Refusing to pull away even for a brief moment, he stroked your hair soothingly, urging you to take your time to breathe.

Sniffling once more, you managed to croak out a word or two. “When? How? Why—” you couldn’t finish before breaking into tears. You were a mess.

Even though the entire auditorium was still filled with the continuous applause and praise from the audience, Yoongi leaned down and chose to whisper into your ear. “I told you. Ever since that night when I saw you in the studio alone…” You could practically feel the happy smile that danced across his voice.

It was the first dream you didn’t have to wake up from.

It was real.

All of this was real.

The first thing you did after finishing your presentation was sprint like a marathon runner to the dressing rooms and change out of your quote on quote, “formal” attire. Consisting of a pair of black dress pants and frilly blouse with heels, your feet screamed in relief when you changed to your usual outfit of straight-cut jeans, oversized sweater, and frayed sneakers. 

Yoongi handed you a bouquet of flowers as you strode victoriously out of the concert hall to the stairwell at which he was waiting. You widened your eyes and had to blink a few times to make sure that this was still real life.

“Is this a practical joke or rom-com gesture?” you giggled, accepting the arrangement of dark red roses, lemon leaves, white snapdragons, and baby’s breath buds. He went the extra mile by personally requesting a gold ribbon to be weaved through each of the rose buds, making a sentimental warmth spread throughout your chest. Breathing in the fresh scent of the flora, the earthy and undeniably pleasant scent filled your airways.

Yoongi’s lips quirked in a shy grin and hid his gummy smile, rubbing the back of his head like he always did when he was apprehensive about something. 

“I figured I missed out on doing this on our first official date,” he shrugged as his tongue caught on the unused word. “So, I felt like surprising you on our twenty-something official one. And I might have snuck in a slice or few of cake in your fridge... ” 

Your jaw dropped to the floor. His face shifted back into the cheesy Chesire Cat grin you adored before humming a soft ‘ah’ and pausing his steps to reach for something in his bag. Was there anything that could make this day any better? 

Fishing through his disarray of loose papers and crumpled notes that decorated his bag, he pulled out a box that had miraculously not gotten squished or dented inside. It was wrapped in rose gold colored polka-dot wrapping paper and adorned with yet, another glittery gold ribbon tied into a neat bow. 

Making a shy face at the extensive detail, you carefully tugged on the end of the ribbon as flecks of glitter flew up in the air, the knot coming undone with ease. Yoongi offered his hand out to hold it.

Smiling, you moved onto the wrapping paper. Trying your best to peel it by the tape because you hated to tear it and make a mess, you finally got to the box. You pulled to top off to reveal another layer of tissue paper. A fluffy bundle of fabric was folded neatly underneath, making you take on a puzzled frown. When you took them out and unfolded them, you couldn’t muffle the gasp that escaped.

A pair of fuzzy mittens with a matching beanie.

“Yoongi...” you gawked. Rubbing over the feathery light, cozy fabric, he was still smiling widely at you, feeling pure happiness at seeing you so overjoyed from a pair of mittens.

Taking the bouquet, crumpled wrapping paper, and empty box from your hands, he set them down on the ledge beside the stairs. He first put the fluffy tasseled beanie on your head and smoothed out your baby hairs. Then, he rubbed your already-cold hands for a couple seconds to warm them up before sliding the plush gloves on.

“I don’t like it when you’re cold…” he said softly, rubbing circles over the tops of your hands through the wooly fabric. Cupping his cheeks with your warm and well-circulating hands, you pressed a single deep kiss onto his readily puckered lips. 

“Your room or mine?” His breath grazed your pink lips, a distinct warmth emanating from his body compared to the crisp winds that blew against the pair of you.

Biting your lip at his query, you shoved his shoulder teasingly. He already knew the answer.

Making out and walking backward was anything but a non-hazardous concoction. You practically topped over the door ledge while walking into Yoongi’s dorm, continuing to stumble over the bumps and dents in the poorly boarded floor. He managed to pull off his shirt and unbuckle his belt before shoving you onto the bed, and you only made it to the zipper of your jeans before landing on your back with a soft thud.

Caging you in between his forearms, he reunited his mouth with yours in a heated and feverish kiss. You captured the delicate of his lower lip between your teeth, nipping, tugging, and sucking on it to tease and satiate him for the time being. You had the whole weekend for yourselves.

His eyebrows furrowed as he couldn’t resist anymore and gave into his body’s demands. Grinding his clothed member into your aching center, you moaned at how hard he was beneath the fabric of his jeans. Satisfaction and adrenaline surged through you and you couldn’t help but be the least bit proud at the fact that only you had this effect on each other. Undeniable lust triggered by unconditional love, aided with consistent support and mutual understanding; a thing so many people craved but so few had the ability to cultivate.

Yoongi let out a husky growl when your hands tangled into his dark hair, gripping firmly at his scalp and trailing down his bare back. Although your nails were trimmed short, they still left red lines down the defined ridges of his shoulders and back as he moaned into your mouth at the sensation.

Grasping you by the roots of your hair, he maneuvered your head to bare your neck to him, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses at the exposed and delicate skin. Nipping teasingly at the junction of your ear and pulse point, he bared his teeth in a grin before sucking a deep purple bruise into the skin, causing a rush of arousal to flow down your thighs.

“Yoongi,” you moaned out hoarsely. His pouty lips continued trailing down your neck before stopping, giving you to a moment to hastily take off your sweater and throw it mindlessly onto the floor. You’ll pick it up later. He licked his lips at the sight of you in all your beauty, pressing a soft kiss to the dip of your collarbone. He couldn’t help it when his lips instantly attached to your breast, massaging the other with his hand and lapping at your nipple skillfully. Moving onto the neglected side, you arched your back into his firm erection when he grazed his teeth over the sensitive nub.

Another gush of wetness flooded your thighs as you rubbed your legs together instinctually at the dampness. Yoongi noticed this like a hawk, eyeing your every movement keenly. Smirking, he slid down your unbuttoned jeans with one firm tug, swiftly yanking the loose-fitting pants down like a candy wrapper, except this sweet treat was one he could never get enough of. The best part? He didn’t have to worry about cavities.

Taking a moment to admire the string of arousal that trailed from your core to the string of your thong as he pulled them off, he gulped, saliva pooling in his mouth at the mere thought of lapping up all of your juices. His sculpted fingers rubbed small circles over your drenched folds, bringing the arousal coated digits to his mouth for a taste. He couldn’t wait another second.

Yoongi delved face first into your center, not caring to clean up the trail of wetness that painted your thighs beforehand. His cheeks were coated with your essence and he licked up as much as he could, his entire mouth cupping over your core in a desperate attempt to hear your delectable moans that spurred him on. Hearing your vocal sobs and whines of pleasure made him moan as you gripped his hair, the vibrations of his gruff voice making your body tingle with even more pleasure. It was a never-ending cycle of mutual pleasure.

You were in absolute heaven. Alternating the use of tender flat-edge of his warm tongue with the firm tip, you could’ve pulled a muscle in your back from how much you were contorting into the bed. Each time he sucked harshly at your swollen clit, it forced out a euphoric cry from you, teetering amidst the peak of your pleasure and the brink of startling ecstasy.

You tried to be gentle with his hair, but when you pulled your hands away from his tangled mess of locks, he growled in disapproval, immediately demanding that you return your hands to where they were by moving away from your aching core and biting at your thighs.

You wanted so badly to take his throbbing and dripping cock into your mouth. You salivated at the utter thought of it and it sent another stream of arousal down your thighs and into Yoongi’s mouth. Two fingers slowly stretched you out, pumping deliciously into your tight heat in sync with the flick and suckle of his tongue as it produced a high-pitched gasp from you.

His free hand came up to knead your breast, pinching and twisting your sensitive nipple agonizingly slow. He gazed into you with jet black pupils, a carnal aura surrounding his every breath, leaving you with no choice but to surrender to him willingly. He continued sucking at your clit while curling and pumping his long fingers into your heat at the perfect pace, earning a drawled-out moan from you each time. His dick twitched against the straining fabric of his boxers, begging for some kind of attention, but Yoongi ignored it.

Tonight, it was all about you and he was going to make sure you knew that.

The obscene sounds of his tongue working relentlessly against your drenched and throbbing pussy made you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood in a feeble attempt to drown out your moans. As he pinned your hips down with his forearm, his fingers suddenly changed pace, moving faster and curling deliciously against your tight walls. His mouth wrapped over your clit and fingers began pumping furiously, the bursting pressure of your peak shattering like glass with one last suck.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” you exclaimed, grinding into his mouth during the first few moments of your high to ride it out as long as possible. Feeling like a boneless pile of jelly from your staggering orgasm, you felt him smile against your dripping center, lapping up your flowing juices like an oasis in a desert. Your clit throbbed from the remnants of the overwhelming pleasure gifted to you by his talented tongue. By the time he was done, the only evidence that you had just had the best orgasm of your life was only visible on his face, his chin completely drenched in your essence.

Yoongi licked over his lips and swiped over his chin with his thumb to collect the remnants, popping his finger into his mouth to savor the taste he could never get enough of. His forehead glistened with a light sheen of sweat, chest rising and falling visibly from the effort he had just spent. How did he still have the stamina for more?

Lost in the blissed-out haze that came from your high, you chuckled lazily, still swimming an orgasm-induced trance. You’d never came like that before and you were more than sure you’d never be able to without the help of Yoongi. Smiling drunkenly as your post-orgasm blush dispersed along your face, a soft giggle left your lips when Yoongi hovered over you before flipping you over.

Lying on top of him, your hands ran down the svelte muscles of his chest and abs as you tasted yourself on his lips, the remaining wetness that spread over his chin coating yours in an act that was too sinful for you not to relive in the years to come. Literally.

Your mouths tangled in a fervent kiss full of desperation and need, running your hands over his toned body without any logical thought. The faintly metallic but not too bitter taste of yourself on his tongue made another pool of arousal stream down your folds. The pleasure was all yours now.

Before you scooted down to his desperately throbbing member, you made sure to appreciate the beauty that was Yoongi. You captured the delicate flesh of his vascular neck between your teeth and sucked blooming marks into the delicate skin, grinning in satisfaction when they mirrored yours but were half the size.

Nosing at the skin beneath his ear where his pulse pounded like the delicate wings of a hummingbird, your exhaling breath tickled the shell of his ear, making him let out the barest hint of a giggle. Tugging on the small hoop earring that decorated his ear lobe with your teeth for a sweet moment, you moved back to his torso.

Tracing across the picturesque sketch of his abs and the V-line that led down his pelvis, his skin felt hot beneath your lips, evidence that his blood was rushing just as much as yours had been not too long ago.

You forced out a grunt from him when you palmed his hard length through his unbuckled jeans, wasting no time and pulling the thick fabric down along with this cotton briefs. His immaculate length sprung up against his stomach with a soft slap, the head of his cock red and oozing precum. Rubbing over the dripping slit with your fingertip, his knuckles turned white from gripping the sheets so hard. He couldn’t think straight.

“_____,” he begged, Adam’s apple bobbing to expose his dewy neck. The glossy sheen that glossed over his entire upper body made your body hum with pure desire. He was so perfect…

You rubbed over the head of his cock a few more times just for the sheer satisfaction of watching a bead of precum form at his tip and pool around your index finger. Placing your now-glistening fingertip in your mouth, you hummed at the musky taste that coated your tongue. Without teasing any longer, you finally pumped his throbbing cock, licking down the length for more lubrication while trying to focus on his head.

“Fucking–God, _____,” he choked out through a guttural moan. With clenched teeth and hands now tangled in your hair, he didn’t have to guide you as you went to work pleasuring him. “Fuck.” He was like putty in your hands, melting into a pool of boiling hot magma with one single touch.

Stroking the base of his cock while you bobbed up and down the upper half, he jolted with the pace at which you were going. Your tongue swirled around his sensitive head and into his slit every few seconds, making him writhe in absolute ecstasy.

Yoongi let out a carnal growl, pulling you up by your arms up and up to his body. He cupped his hands your ass while his mouth locked onto yours in another deep kiss, exploring your mouth with a hunger he only possessed when he was with you; one that no matter how much time passed, would never be satiated.

Massaging your pillow-like cheeks with his firm grasp, you both moaned into each other’s mouths when your dripping wet slit found his dick. With the feeling of your slick pussy grinding over his bare length and your hands raking through his disheveled head of hair, Yoongi almost came right there.

This was completely different than the first night you two had spent together. The first time was entirely filled with sinful lust, primal hunger, and frantic passion. It resulted in a battle of teeth clashing against tongues, bruising grips, and hasty eagerness, allowing neither of you to feel the full extent of your deepest desires. 

However, the deeper you fell in love with each other and the greater time you spent in each other’s company, sex became less about the physically pleasurable aspect and more about the raw emotional and near-spiritual bond you felt while connected.

Legs and arms entwined in a mess of tangled limbs; sticky bodies glistening with sweat; his hair sticking to his forehead and yours strung across his damp chest; the soft puffs of faint panting and the warmth of your bodies wound tightly against each other that lulled you into the best slumber you could possibly ask for. That was what you loved more than anything. The total submission of your barest state exposed in all its vulnerability and your mutual ability to look after one other unconditionally was more than you could ever ask for. He was yours, and you were his.

Yoongi’s hands ran over your shoulders and the small of your back, reuniting them with the plush pillows of your ass, admiring your rosy flushed face with awe.

“You’re so beautiful…” he said in a quiet voice, afraid that if he spoke with valor that you’d vanish like an illusion conjured by his deepest desires.

Calming down your heavy breathing, you placed a hand against his beating heart, the pronounced thumping of it underneath your fingertips causing goosebumps to scatter down the back of your neck. He placed one of his hands over yours while the other found your free one, cupping it against one of his cheeks tenderly. Nosing the delicate skin where your wrist met its socket, he inhaled gently, drinking in the feel of your soft skin against his.

Your fingers traced over the hollows of his cheekbones, marveling at how he appeared more beautiful than a millennium-old sculpture. You always took the time to admire and cherish every part of his body and his eyes were no exception. The deep-set and piercing gaze you had first feared was now a sight you hated to part with. Running alongside the hairs that stuck to his forehead, your focus settled on his lips, smiling heartily before pressing a slow and patient kiss to them.

“I love you so much, Yoongi,” you whispered against his mouth, earning you a smile back.

He clasped your hands tightly, pressing fluttery kisses to the tops of your knuckles before locking his gaze onto you. “I love you, _____...” He spoke in a hush like he was keeping a secret, you name rolling off of his tongue like a sacred hymn he held closest to his heart. 

Studying the darkened gaze that cast over his eyes, your instincts clawed at you. “I need you inside me now, Yoongi.” Your voice came out in a whining sob, begging him to take you. 

Slowly sitting down to guide his member into your aching heat, he kissed you with even more urgency and passion than you thought was possible, basking in the feeling of you consuming each other through the linking of your bodies as he buried himself hilt deep. 

“Fuck, you’re always so tight for me,” he hissed. Dirty talk wasn’t really something you two prided yourselves in, preferring to voice your desires through physical actions alone, but you sure as hell didn’t have any complaints about it. It always seemed to come naturally for both of you and ended up sounding like praise rather than command. 

Your velvety walls wrapped around his thick length and made him twitch inside of you. Grinding into his hips from your dominant position, Yoongi nestled his head into your chest as he began pounding into you mercilessly, all while paying equal attention to your sensitive bundles of nerves on your breasts. 

Words weren’t needed to direct each other when you knew one other like clockwork; every kink, erogenous zones, sensitive spots—especially pace. 

He leaned back onto the wall and lifted you by your hips, allowing you to hover over him at an angle that made him drive into a spot deep inside of you and gasp. “Oh my God, Yoongi, right there!” Your moans turned into pants and sobs of overwhelming delight at the deeper angle at which he was filling you.

A drop of sweat beaded at Yoongi’s furrowed brows, his tense expression a result of him also feeling the torturously delicious feeling of you encasing him. He couldn’t hold back for much longer and neither could you.

“Yoongi,” you warned, feeling your walls tense with each additional thrust he managed to power through his growing exhaustion, not from the physical act of relentless thrusting, but from the pure willpower he was exerting from holding his orgasm back. Your nails dug deep crescent half-moons into the ridges of his shoulders while his fingers pressed blossoming bruises into your hips, reminding you to gawk at them later.

Feeling your tense body, Yoongi used up the last remaining bits of his energy to pound into you furiously, exerting as much force as he had left. A sharp intake of breath came from deep inside his chest when you came around him without further warning, your unbelievably tight and utterly drenched cunt clenching around his cock and making him finish not a second later. 

Bottoming out completely before sliding out and back in, it was almost too much when he continued hammering into you at a slower pace, his pulsating member shooting continuous spurts of hot cum deep into your heat. With his teeth bared in a silent snarl and your mouth parted in euphoria, you rolled your hips over his a few more times before collapsing on top of him, his spent cock still somehow twitching and filling your heat with thick spurts.

Yoongi’s eyes were half-lidded and dazed from his equally powerful orgasm. Staying inside of you for a few more seconds to ensure that as much of his cum remained inside of you as possible, you yelped when he slid out and replaced his cock with his hand, cupping your cunt to prevent any from seeping out. You giggled lightly at his concentrated face when he flipped you onto your back.

He also took great pleasure in scissoring your mixed fluids together between his fingers and bringing them up to his lips for a taste; another one of his post-sex habits. Curling into your drenched lips to scoop out more of the unholy mixture, you didn’t need to ask as he slid his coated fingers into your mouth, swiping over your readily cupped tongue as the evidence of your releases slicked down your throat.

“Kinky...” you giggled, running his fingertips along your lips before pecking them.

Yoongi gave you a half-parted gummy grin and chuckled. “You love me more for it.”

Completely spent, he kissed you deeply before he climbed into the covers, comfortably nestling his head into the valley of your breasts and nosing the soft skin. You cradled his head and pressed a delicate kiss to the top of his frizzy hair, raking through the messy knots with your fingertips. His exhaling breaths grew soft, indicating that he was on the verge of falling asleep.

Even though he mumbled the words into your chest, you broke into a heartwarming smile at his entirely too pure personality and held him in the security of your embrace. “I love you, _____.” 

There it was again: your name. 

It never sounded as good as it did unless it flowed from his lips. 

“I love you too, Yoongi,” you whispered, your soft whisper lulling him into a deep slumber as his eyes drooped shut while his steady breaths coaxed you into the darkness of sleep as well.

It was real. 

Some time in the near future...

You woke up to an empty bed, frowning in confusion instantly at the cold sheets that greeted you. Where was Yoongi? Almost as soon as you had asked the question, the smell of bacon and fried eggs filled your nostrils, making your mouth water.

Throwing your legs over the bed and climbing out of the disheveled bundle of sheets, you threw on one of Yoongi’s wrinkled shirts over your bare body, smiling sheepishly at how it draped over your thighs and stopped right above your knees. Brushing your teeth and rinsing your face in a record amount of time, you made your way to the kitchen and were greeted by the amusing sight of Yoongi dancing to the playlist you used when cleaning your room.

Jumping around like a maniac, he was too absorbed in his dancing and oil-spattering bacon to notice you leaning on the counter. With a cheeky grin gracing your face, Yoongi’s eyes bulged out of their sockets when he saw you. Clearing his throat harshly, you broke into a bright fit of laughter at how bashful he was. Was that what you looked like when he caught you dancing in your room?

“Good morning,” you giggled, nibbling the corner of your lip to hold back a snort.

Yoongi turned off the stovetop with the click of a knob, plating the hot food onto your dishes. “Good morning,” he played off cooly. Carrying the two plates to the small dining table, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before setting them down.

“Happy Anniversary,” he exclaimed, returning to you to give you a proper kiss. Smiling onto his lips, you laced your arms around him as he wrapped his around your waist.

You scowled playfully but broke into a smile. “A little birdy told me a while ago that anniversaries were stupid…” you hummed jokingly, referring to the surprise you gifted him a year after you started dating. It was just a handwritten card and matching set of hoodies, but Yoongi let it slip that he thought regular anniversaries were cheesy and a little cringeworthy. 

But he wholeheartedly appreciated your gift though, refusing to wear anything other than that exact hoodie for the majority of his classes. Often times, he asked you with puppy eyes and a pout to wear yours—even on some days when it was 80 degrees outside.

“Must have been a really drunk bird then,” he shrugged. You weren’t terribly hurt by his statement that night because you truly did understanding where he was coming from. Those couples who had hebdomadal anniversaries did, in fact, make you want to gag. Anniversaries in your mind were supposed to be reserved for monumental occasions and milestones, not as petty excuses to receive stupidly expensive gifts from each other.

You beamed, pecking his lips once more. “Mhm, not a very cute peeper either.” Your comment made Yoongi raise an eyebrow, nuzzling his mouth into your neck and blowing raspberries against your skin until you surrendered.

“Okay, okay, okay!” you gave up, choking your submission through joyous laughter. “Let’s eat, Yoongi!” Eyes lighting up in victory, he pulled out your chair for you before sitting down himself.

“Happy Anniversary, Yoongi,” you chuckled, lips forming into a loving grin at the gummy smile that blessed his sparkling eyes.

Reaching over the table to hold your hands and rub comforting circles into them, he blinked slowly, imprinting a picture-perfect snapshot of this moment in his long-term memory for years to come. “Happy Anniversary, _____,” he beamed.

“Are you sure about this, Yoongi?” you asked cautiously, rubbing his hands in the hopes of soothing his buzzing nerves. “We don’t have to do this today…”

He pressed his lips into a firm line and nodded, keeping his eyes glued on the black and white keys that lie before him. “I’m ready.”

Releasing his hands from your grasp, you patted them softly before letting them hover over the keys. Not having touched a piano since before the accident, the unfamiliar cold feeling of the wood made Yoongi’s breath hitch in his throat.

His fingers suddenly started to shake as bile rose in his throat and his face went pale, turning colorless enough to make the piano keys look off-white in comparison. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like epoxy glue and felt heavier than a cement block. With his pupils dilated dangerously wide and beads of sweat forming along his hairline, his throat closed up, restricting his airflow.

Your eyes widened immediately, alarmed at his visceral reaction as he snatched his hands away from the keys and couldn’t bear to face the instrument for another second.

“I ca—I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do it,” he choked, shaking his head vigorously while hiccuping, trying to take in breaths of air as he began drowning in the memories that suddenly poured in.

You cupped the sides of his face and smoothed your fingers over his tear-stained cheeks gently. “Yoongi—look at me.” Shutting his eyes tightly, more droplets of his painful memories trailed down as his hands shook, the pads of his fingers squeezing coin-sized bruises into your forearms.

“Look at me,” you said more firmly the second time. Opening his eyes slowly with shaky eyelids, he swallowed the lump in his throat before making direct eye contact with you. “I’m here, okay? I’m right here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I’m right here with you, Yoongi.”

Relaxing his grip, his fingers that were pressing into your skin moments ago slowly began rubbing small circles into your forearms, soothing the numbing pressure as your blood began to circulate again.

“I’m so—,” he sobs choking on his tears, your lulling shushes helping his breathing calm down and slow. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—” His repetitive please continued into mumbled whispers. 

As he continued to mutter his robotic sayings, you soon realized that he wasn’t apologizing only to you—he was apologizing to himself.

“Yoongi, it’s okay,” you whispered, allowing his head to fall into the crook of your neck as his tears left trailed down your chest, leaving a glistening trail of wetness that made your eyes sting with your own tears. Your heart shattered seeing him in such a state of distress, but all you could do was murmur softly into his hair while his shoulders continued to shake. 

This too was real. 

“Bach Invention No. 8 already?” you gawked. “Yoongi, how?”

He shrugged, shoulders rising up to his ears in humble yet clearly visible accomplishment.

“You were playing Hanon a few weeks ago, what are you putting in your cereal?” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief and awe at his consistently growing skills.

“I had a pretty great teacher,” he smiled warmly, patting the seat beside him and inviting you to sit down. Shaking your head at his lively and glowing image, you set down your two cups and made yourself comfortable.

It had been nine steady months since Yoongi had composed himself to start playing again and it would be a lie to say that it hadn’t been a time-consuming process. Slowly but surely through tears, overwhelming breakdowns, neverending hours, long nights, and emotional outpours, Yoongi’s natural instinct and eagle-eye muscle memory kicked in, aiding his subconscious breaking down the mental barrier he had formed since the accident.

The first few months were a struggle as he was stuck in his own head and high expectations. He stayed up constantly trying to master the most basic warm-up exercises, refusing to give up until he knew it by heart. Even during the deepest pitfalls of exhaustion, you stuck by him, likewise refusing to leave his side until he was half-asleep and drooling on the keys.

You, on the other hand, had finally gotten around to accepting physical therapy, regular check-ups, and after four years of putting it off, had your prescription officially signed off by your doctor. 

The short-span of your potential professional career was inevitable, but you processed and accepted the outlook better than you did when you were first diagnosed. You had grown up since then. You weren’t a young, naïve, immature, want-it-all child anymore; you were just you, and that was more than enough. Life wasn’t about doing as much as you could for the quantity in hopes of happiness, but rather for the quality of happiness that you were living with what you could accomplish to your heart’s extent. 

“Why not 13?” you asked curiously, referring to the piece that was in the solemn and dark minor key. Yoongi’s lips curled into a sheepish grin, sensing where you were going with your question.

“Major keys are nicer to listen to,” he mumbled. Fumbling with your fingers in his lap as he usually did when he felt the need for a distraction. “Minor scales are too depressing.”

Nodding your head in agreeance with his response, a soft chuckle reverberated from deep inside his chest. You gave him a comical eyebrow raise. He brought your hands to his cheek for what felt like the millionth time in the span of your relationship, leaning into your easing and tranquilizing touch as he melted in your hands. 

After years of ignoring the adverse effect of your struggling circulation, the effort you dedicated last year in looking after your health had paid off; your hands were finally warm. All the more inviting for Yoongi to cup them around his plush cheeks. A healthy diet, consistent sleeping schedule, and regular hikes up to the viewpoint with Yoongi really went a long way in terms of lifestyle. 

Thinking over his words, he shook his head rightfully so. “There are too many good things in life to do instead of drowning in that kind of ocean…” His kissed the top of your hand as his eyes met yours in a stare that radiated unconditional affection, complete fondness, and total selfless love.

Life was, in fact, too good to spend it wasting away in the shadows.

Some time further in the future...

Shuffling through the array of papers that littered the desk, you were seconds away from ripping your hair out. How were you going to do this? You started with the syllabus. That was probably the first step in starting a lecture, right? Then the expectations for the class? Goals? Learning outcomes?

God, were you even speaking English at this point? The abrupt buzz of your phone alarm snapped you out of your thoughts instantly. As crowds of students in what seemed like the hundreds flooded the lecture hall within seconds, you started to panic. Anxiety flooded your throat like thick smoke, forcing you to gulp a hiccup down. A gentle nudge on your shoulder caused you to turn around, coming into the view of none other than Yoongi.

“You okay?” His eyes voiced concern, eyebrows turned downwards as he studied your face with flowing sympathy.

You nodded, pressing your lips into a tight line. “Fine. Fine. All fine. Everything’s great.” Your speech flowed out like dreaded word vomit.

Yoongi rubbed your shoulder to ease your rippling waves of uneasiness, trying to relieve your bubbling apprehension. “Powell asked us to sub his class for a reason, _____. “Don’t doubt yourself. You’ll be amazing and I’ll be right by your side to help,” he convinced. “Okay?”

Swallowing down the sheet of sandpaper that lined your throat, you nodded.

The students were now fully seated and quiet, the soft hums of a few sorting through their bags and pulling out their laptops. The sea of L.E.D. apples and brightly lit block print logos made you nauseous. Once they were all settled, you cleared your throat.

“Thank you all for coming to today’s class,” you greeted with as much authority in your voice you could muster. “My name is _____, and this is Yoongi.” Pausing to direct your attention to him, he tipped his chin up lazily, reminding you of the first day you’d encountered him in a setting much like this one. Your eyes softened at the reminiscent memories. Time flies... 

“We will be substituting for Professor Powell, as he is out sick for the week,” you explained. 

A few scattered hollers and applause were heard from parts of the hall, making Yoongi shoot you a smug grin. You frowned quizzically for a brief moment before shrugging it off. “As former graduates ourselves, we are very aware of the immense pressure Professor Powell puts on you as first years in the graduate division. Trust me.” You turned your body to Yoongi, signaling him with a small nod. “We’ve both been there.”

He chuckled, taking the reins of the conversation smoothly while you began handing out the syllabus for the final project. “Powell might have discussed this project with you last semester or you might have heard legends about it from your upper classmates while you were freshmen.”

Yoongi didn’t bother using the title of “Professor” before he spoke, making some students gasp audibly. His voice was the epitome of confidence, self-assurance and clarity coating his voice like velvet as he articulated his words with consistency.

“The syllabus that is being handed out to you explains the details of your final project. Your partners have been chosen for you and will not, under any circumstance, be altered to fit your personal preference.”

Whispers spread across the entire room like a swarm of bees, students gasping and mumbling, appalled as they analyzed each detail written on the page. Your echoing clap silenced into their incessant grumbles. That seemed to grab their attention.  

“As Professor Powell has said multiple times prior to the start of this semester and I’m sure as far back as your undergraduate days.” A grin formed on your lips and you glanced over at Yoongi, who was already smirking and staring back at you with his lip in between his teeth. “The audience needs to see who you are through the music; experience your deepest memories, feel your deepest pain, and live through your life up until this point.”

“You’ll laugh, cry, scream, and want to rip each other apart with your bare hands,” Yoongi added on with conviction in his voice, standing up straight and no longer leaning against the wall. “But above all the setbacks and obstacles, you’ll come out as stronger musicians and even better artists.”

“Complain and fail. Choose to work independently from each other and that implies that you are working against one other,” you noted. “You are there to help each other through difficult times, not leave the other person hanging when things get tough.”

Yoongi sighed. “It sucks, we know.” He glanced at you thoughtfully, a ghost of a smile dancing across his lips. “But we promise it’ll be worth it.”

At this, a student in the front row raised her hand, a wide-eyed curiosity glinting from her eyes. You smiled and gave her the cue to speak. “By chance, you guys aren’t the seniors who passed this same assignment with a full grade four years ago, are you?” Her naïve and self-answering question made you and Yoongi look to each other knowingly, embarrassed and honored that the rumor was still flying about, alive and well as ever. “You two are like living legends!”

The class erupted into another wave of applause and gasps, sounding like a sound effect out of a comedy club’s built-in soundboard. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, he chuckled, leaning his head to one side and side-eyeing you lightheartedly. You also found yourself blushing and chuckling awkwardly, sighing as you avert your eyes to anywhere but the crowd of eyes glued onto you and him.

“It’s kind of a funny story…” you hummed. 

“Why did you start liking me?” you asked. Lying down on the blanket that was strewn on top of the grass, Yoongi shifted beside you, admiring the spot on the viewpoint he picked out. The view of the campus never ceased to take your breath away. 

The longest three seconds of your life passed before you turned on your side and he peeled his eyes away from the dim sky, redirecting his gaze to you. Taking your hands into his, the edges of his lips curled into the tiniest smile, staring thoughtfully at the sight he had never imagined in his wildest dreams would be here right in front of him. 

“Because you gave me everything I could ever ask for without wanting anything in return, and I don’t deserve it.” His words flowed like ink from a fountain pen, soaking through the pages that bound your love for him. 

Pausing before continuing, you couldn’t prepare yourself for what he had to say next.

“It’s like you’re too good to be real. Here. In front of me.” he clasped your hands tighter. “I still feel like don’t deserve you.” At this sudden confession, his tense expression softened. “Like I’m not enough for you...”

The dark and piercing stare you used to cower in fear at had now revealed itself to be the only one you knew that was full of vulnerability and as delicate as a glass menagerie. They were eyes you had grown fond of, admired, and more than anything—wholeheartedly and unequivocally loved.

Running his thumb over your cheek, you cupped over his hand in response, making your heart flutter at the delicate flush that spread across his face. 

“Min Yoongi...” you sighed as your eyes began to form budding tears. Shaking your head while trying to hold back the painful smile that threatened to escape, you took a deep breath. 

The lump in your throat returned tenfold when you looked up and saw that his eyes were glued onto yours, his deep brown orbs watering with glassy tears and lip quivering with the infinite ocean of amour he felt for you. You had already fallen in too deep to drown.

All these years later and you still made each other’s hearts race like a soaring kite. 

Whether it was from the cold or the bursting dam of repressed emotions, it didn’t matter. You cupped both sides of his face and brought his forehead to yours, pressing lightly and maintaining contact so that you were trapped directly in-line of each other’s eyes. You couldn’t help but smile and allow a tear to trail down your cheek when his hands cupped over yours.

“You’re right. You aren’t just anything to me,” you whispered, your voice near barely audible to anyone except Yoongi. “You are absolutely everything I could ever ask for and more. 

Yoongi swallowed the rush of nostalgia that flooded his mind and closed up his throat. “I have never in my entire life met someone who comes close to how you understand me, wait for me, and push me through my bad days,” he croaked through blurry eyes. 

You sniffled, brimming tears finally spilling like the puddles of your youth you once basked in. “You make me the happiest and the best person I can be, and I love you more than anything else in this entire world...”

“And I promise that I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way.” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he finally spoke, completing your words like the last piece of a puzzle fitting perfectly in its place. 

His words and soft lips sealed a kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering softly at the ardor you felt only while in his warmth. You kissed him back, the saltiness of your mingled tears leaving watercolor thin streaks down both of your cheeks.

Words would never be enough to express the bond you and him shared. He could only pray to whoever was listening that you felt it as strongly as he did, and you for him. 

A song composed with no more than the painful memories of your past, tender youth of the present, and limitlessly unbound fate of your future, your paths entwined with the string of fate and aria had brought you together to this exact moment in time.

Passionless pursuit in the chase for perfection; a journey filled with sorrows in the hopes of leading to the smallest sliver of happiness; an outcome neither of you had expected to come to fruition in your wildest and most distant dreams.

Everything else is arbitrary. Happiness through the darkest of times stemming from the willingness to fight and determination to be happy—that is what you made your lives out to be. 

The faint glint of the rings you both bore reflected against the lamp post bulbs, an even brighter light emitting from both of your smiles. Had it already been a year since he’d asked for your hand? Yoongi’s fingers ran over the engraved metal, tracing the near-microscopic words that were etched into the band. You did the same with his, the loop of silver feeling cool against your fingertips.

It was real.

This was real.

[cassiefanfic]

Stay With Me Part Two: Found

Part: 2 of 4

Fandom: Marvel/ Avengers

Character/Ship: Loki x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Mr. and Mrs. Bradley (Original Characters), Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton

Warning: Fluff, Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of violence

Writer: Cassie

Words: 3954

Requested by: Anon on @thefandomimagine

Summary: After a couple of months of being in New York and living with the Bradleys, coming to terms with being powerless and a single mother-to-be, Y/N is slowly learning to adapt to Midgardian life. While working one day, Steve Rogers comes to her checkout counter, with his pearly white smile and a whole new world for Y/N to learn.

[Based off of:] http://thefandomimagine.tumblr.com/post/99044716364/submitted-by-anonymous

Author’s Note: This takes place a month after the Battle of New York.

This was beta’ed by @kittenofdoomage who is amazing and I adore her so much. Go check her out!!!

Series Masterlist

Y/N’s POV

I was not Y/N of Asgard anymore. I was Y/N Bradley of New York State. After two months, we got me new clothes, a doctor to help with my child and a job at a library in New York City. As well as a thing called a car and a piece of plastic called a drivers license. It was a different culture completely. So primitive, so loud, so bright and flashy. I adapted to their technology, getting an iPhone 5 and a laptop, both by a company called Apple.

I learned much of their culture, reading their books, wearing their clothes, watching the moving pictures they called movies or television. Because of my job, I had access to much of their history, a lot about the great battles fought, destruction brought among people mindlessly fighting over similar causes. I learned of the losses and that which we have gained. It was all so… primitive yet fascinating.

Another day I awoke, got dressed in the handmade clothes Mrs. Bradley made for me and went down for breakfast. At my spot was a bowl of blueberry banana oatmeal and a glass of milk. Strange enough, the oatmeal was one of the few things the baby enjoyed and didn’t make me throw back up.

“How do grilled cheese and tomato soup sound Y/N?” Mr. Bradley asked as he tore up his toast into easier bites.

“That would be lovely for lunch! That jelly substance as well please?”

“Jello? I’m glad you like that.” Mrs. Bradley replied gleefully. “I’ll drop it off around 11:30 okay?”

“Yes. But not downtown. We finally have the old location open again.” I reminded before taking another bite of oatmeal.

About a month ago, my fellow librarians and patrons found ourselves trapped inside the library as someone and an army of Chitauri destroyed New York City. After a couple of hours, we were finally rescued by two men, who were called Iron Man and Captain America. I told little to the emergency responders, allowing them to give me an emergency ultrasound to check on my baby, immediately taking the opportunity to see the life growing in me on a tiny black and white screen.

It was small, while I was still only a couple months along. This must’ve been the happiest I was. Having that little grape-sized image in front of me completed me, settled my fear. I couldn’t think about Loki or the Chitauri attack. I could only think of the baby.

I finished eating before getting my bag and hurrying out to my car, giving quick hugs on my way out. Settling in and buckling up, the radio gave me more insight into the New York City recovery, construction, hospitalized patients being let out after their care was completed. I quickly interrupted the monotone voices with the Top 20 popular songs that these Midguardians seemed to enjoy. That’s one thing I never seemed to quite grasp. The music of this planet. Each song on Asgard had its specific purpose, but here, they all had hidden meanings. They were about love but about being alone. They were about anger but also about lust. It was a concept that confused me every day. But it was one out of the three stations I could get on the car radio, so I made do.

The grape had grown to the size of a lime, and the lime kept making me puke and take naps in the back of the check out counter. I somehow distracted myself with the small plastic bag of saltine crackers I hid in my large sweater pocket, the absurdly large water bottle with the label Nalgene I had decorated with a few little things called stickers by my side and the book I kept close, reading it whenever I wasn’t checking out books to various patrons. It was called The Great Gatsby, and it was one of the simpler books I had read from this realm. I was slowly making my way through the whole library through not only Mr. and Mrs. Bradley’s recommendations but from the other librarians, learning the proper phrasing of words on Earth, along with learning the social behaviors of the past and present.

As I read, the world around me escaped, and I focused intensely on the glitz and glamor of the 1920s. I remembered watching a documentary on the 1920s, so I could somewhat visualize it, which was taking up at least half my brain where the words weren't flowing.

"That's a good book." A voice spoke, pulling me from my trance and my focus to the gentleman standing at the counter with four books in his hand. His kind smile radiated with his bright blue eyes. His hair was like honey, glistening in the light from the window. After I stood to help him, I noticed how tall he was as well.

"Excuse me?"

"That book. It's a really good book, didn't care for the films though." He repeated, a soft smile across his face as I bookmarked my page and set the book aside.

"I just started it today. It's going by quite fast," I responded, smiling lightly as he handed me his library card and the small stack of books. I scanned the card and began to check out books for him as he nodded.

"I must've read it 20 times. When you're done with that you should read the Wizard of Oz or maybe ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’." I nodded quickly, pulling out my small notebook and opening it to the book section, where there were many recommendations scribbled down.

"I already read Wizard of Oz but that other one I'll get to next," I whispered as I scribbled it down.

"Looks like you have quite a few people who want you to read things."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am just catching up. It's been a while since I've been able to sit down and read."

He smiled and touched his book stack. "Yeah, I'm in that same spot. Maybe we'll have to swap recommendations. Like over coffee or something?"

I know this line, or a line similar to this. He was courting me, or as the Midguardians called it, asking me out.

"You barely know me. You don't know my name-"

"Y/N. I've seen you around here and you uh- you have a name tag. Look, I don’t mean any harm. You seem like a nice girl."

"Well then..." I looked at the screen, reading his name before looking up at him, "Steve Rogers. When were you planning this coffee-or-something date?"

"Well, my friend knows this great restaurant a block or two down. Maybe we can go there tonight, or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow would be nice. What time?" I questioned, pulling out a small piece of paper.

"How about 7? Where should I pick you up?"

"I live about 40 minutes out of Manhattan, near New Rochelle. So maybe I should meet you here-"

"It would be a pleasure to come to pick you up. I don't mind at all." He affirmed. I smiled lightly and look down.

"It's just- I live with my parents-"

"And it would be an honor to meet them. Give me your address and I'll pick you up tomorrow at 7. Alright?" He reassured, leaning forward on the counter a bit.

I blushed and quickly wrote down the farm address on a piece of paper for him, along with my phone number and my name. Handing him his receipt and the books, along with the paper, I smiled lightly and questioned, "What kind of this restaurant is this exactly?"

"Fancy-ish. Just wear a dress and bring that beautiful smile okay?" He answered, putting his books in his reusable bag and pocketing the pieces of paper in his jacket pocket. "I'll see you tomorrow night." He smiled lightly and walked out, leaving me with a smile of joy across my face.

The next day, Janice convinced my boss to let me off work three hours early as she covered my shift, joy radiating to her bones that I was finally getting my head out of the books and finding my true ways around New York.

“How long until you will tell him?” She inquired as we checked in books, making sure they weren’t damaged before putting them on the reshelving cart.

“I don’t know. I’m just beginning to show a bit but I don’t know. When should I tell him?”

“After a couple of dates. You don’t want to overwhelm him. If you feel like you can trust him, go ahead. It’s up to you.” She explained, grabbing the last book from my hand with a smile. “Now you go ahead and get ready for tonight. I don’t want you to get caught up in rush hour traffic honey.” She hugged me tightly before handing me my bag, water bottle and a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird before sending me on my way to the parking garage.

I was so excited, my hands trembling in joy as I drove home, and for the first time, I found myself singing along to the music on the radio, not minding if I was off key. After I made my way into the farmhouse, I took a nice hot shower, making sure to use the nicest smelling soap I had, and that my hair was extra clean. Before I even had the chance to grab the yellow dress I had been thinking of all day, Mrs. Bradley came into my room and gave me a light blue wrap dress.

“This is amazing. Did you-”

“I got to work on it the second you finished dinner yesterday. I already had a pattern I was going to use and you made it easy when I was wondering which color to make it. Light blue, like the sky, just like his eyes are supposed to be.” She laid it on the bed before helping me get my necklace on. The necklace I still wore to remind me of Loki, that I am bearing his child, and that I will never see him again.

I smiled sadly and dried my hair before getting into the dress. After brushing my hair and putting on some light makeup, I got on some ballet flats and got a small clutch, making sure my medication for the evening, my phone, and I.D. were inside as a heavy knock sounded from downstairs. I gasped and hurried down,

“You look cold, here,” Steve said as he took off his jacket. It took me a second to realize that in my excitement earlier, I forgot to grab a coat. Steve carefully helped me slip my arms in, wrapping it close to my trembling body with a soft smile. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Steve. Thank you.” I whispered as I held the edges. After dinner, he had offered to walk with me to the ice cream shop for dessert, which I immediately agreed to. I hadn’t ever seen New York at night like this. The only time I did was after the library was destroyed and I was waiting with emergency services until the Bradley’s came to get me.

Steve smiled kindly and nodded, leading me down the sidewalk. I was so caught up in the lights that I didn’t mind his arm around my waist, making sure I was alright. After three blocks I looked over at him and smiled.

“It’s nice isn’t it?” He asked, his face showing his amusement with his wide smile and focused eyes.

“I haven’t been out this late since-” I gulped and looked down. “Since the attack. This is my second time out this late.” My hand shook as I grabbed a bench and sat down. Steve joined me and smiled softly as he listened. “It was about 20 of us trapped in the library. We didn’t want to go outside because we were afraid of what would happen if we did. These two men, everyone called them Iron Man and Captain America, they saved us. They were part of the people called the Avengers. They stopped the attack…. And got us out of there.” I looked up at Steve. “The recovery team took care of me until my parents came and got me. I had to get a new car… mine was destroyed in the attack. I just… I wish I could’ve thanked them.” I looked back down before saying, “I’m not hungry for ice cream anymore.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. Let’s go to the car and I can drive you home.” He got up and held out his hand, which I gently took as I stood. I kept his hand in mine as we walked to the parking garage where he parked. As we got to the car and Steve dug through his pockets for the keys, we heard a click, one that I only heard in films. Steve and I turned around to find three guns pointed at us, two at him, one at me. I’ve seen this in movies, like in Superman from 1978 or in that movie Clueless. I immediately clutched Steve’s arm, the fear of my mortality and lack of Asgardian powers making my hands tremble.

“Give us your wallets. Now.” One of the men who had his gun pointed at Steve demanded.

“I-I don’t have one-”

“Shut it you dumb slut! Both of you! Wallets!” The one pointing his gun at me yelled, causing me to grip onto Steve’s arm tightly. I looked up at Steve to find him standing there with a very displeased look across his face.

“Son, I advise you apologize to her.”

“Steve just give them your wallet okay?” I whispered. He shook his head and stood in front of me.

“What tough guy? You trying to be scary and tough in front of the slut huh?” The other mugger asked as he clicked a bullet into place. I tried to reach for Steve to stop him, but the one that had his gun at me aimed it for my head, causing me to freeze and stare.

“I said to apologize to her. Now.” Steve demanded as his fists clenched.

“The slut doesn’t need an apology-” Steve quickly swung his fist, knocking out the man who had his gun at me immediately.

One of the others grabbed Steve and punched him as the other one grabbed me and pressed me against the car, keeping the gun pointed at my chin as he grabbed Steve’s jacket, trying to feel through his pockets for the wallet. He finally grabbed it, laughing as he threw me to the ground.

I tried to catch myself, but I felt the impact on my head, causing me to wince in pain and grip my head tightly. I slowly looked up to Steve fighting the one that just had the gun pointed at me. I looked to see the other two unconscious on the ground as Steve grabbed the man and punched him hard, knocking him out. He retrieved his wallet and hurried to my side, checking my head as I looked up at him with blurred vision.

“S-Steve- What has gotten into you?” I shakily asked as he pocketed my phone and his wallet. He sighed and picked me up, setting me in the passenger seat of the car carefully and buckling me up.

“I got a friend that can patch you up. Just calm down and I’ll explain soon.” He said before closing the door and going to the driver’s side. He began to drive through the city, gripping the steering wheel tightly in anger. I weakly reached over, not caring how much I wanted to sleep, or how much my head hurt, and touched his arm, causing him to relax a little. I gave him a soft smiled before my eyes closed, allowing the darkness to pull me away.

About two hours later, I woke up to the feeling of warmth surrounding me and an unfamiliar feeling on my head. Not pain, but it was comfortable. I slowly opened my eyes as different voices fill my ears.

“Thank you, Bruce. I didn’t know who to turn to and the hospital didn’t feel like a right choice-”

“It’s okay Steve. Are you ready for when she wakes up though? I’m sure if she wakes up here, she will have a few questions.”

“I know. I know. I’ll figure it out. When will everyone else be back?”

“Clint and Nat will be back soon, Tony probably is on his way up from his lab.”

“And Thor?”

“He’s just in his room- Look who’s awake?”

Looking up as my vision adjusted, Steve was across the room with a slightly shorter man who had brown hair, some glasses, and a suit on. Steve crossed the room quickly to be at my side.

“Steve I-”

“How are you feeling? Do you need water?”

“Steve, what happened back there? And who is this? Where am I?” I demanded as I began to sit up.

Steve placed a hand on my shoulder and pressed gently, causing me to lay back down before letting out a soft sigh. “You’re at the Avengers Tower. This is my friend Bruce. You hit your head back at the parking garage and I needed to make sure you were okay. Would you like some water?’

I nodded slowly and Bruce walked over with a nice cold cup of water, smiling softly. After drinking some I looked around before looking up at Steve. “Wait, why are we in the Avengers Tower?”

“Y/N I-”

“I heard we had a guest!” A loud voice erupted from the elevator, causing us all to look over. I knew that face, of course, I had to know it. The man walked over and I couldn’t stop my own words from falling out of my mouth.

“You’re Tony Stark.”

“Yes, I am! Capsicle, this is not what I expected but you do have good taste-”

“Capsicle? Steve, what is he talking about?” I interrupted, looking at him with shock.

Steve moved a bit closer and sighed. “Remember the library? Where those two men saved you?” I nodded slowly, allowing him to continue. “Tony is Iron Man, Bruce is the Hulk, and I’m-”

“You’re Captain America,” I whispered, sitting up a bit. This time he didn't stop me, he was too busy looking down ashamed to do that. I sighed softly and hugged him close, bringing shock to not only him, but the other two. “Thank you,” I whispered in his ear. I then shakily stood and hugged Tony before sitting.

“I’ll take that as you’re not mad?” Steve asked, shock drawn across his face. I shook my head and smiled softly.

“First you saved my life, and then took me on one of the best dates I’ve had in a long time. Why would I be mad Steve?” I replied, holding his hand as I rested back. “So… Captain America?”

Steve smiled and nodded. “Yep. With the shield and everything.”

“That makes you about 100 years old.” I laughed softly. “I can say, for an old man you’re quite attractive.” I continued.

Right as Steve was about to answer, the elevator opened again and a loud voice erupted. “100 is nothing. Try 1000- Y/N?”

I sat up quickly as the figure entered the room and stared at me. I slowly began to stand as the familiarity hit me. “Thor?”

“Lady Y/N.” He replied, a wide smile forming across his face. I ran across the room quickly, hugging him as tight as I could. He picked me up and spun me around, before holding me close. He smelled of Asgard, the smells I longed, the smells I missed. “We’ve all been wondering where you’ve been! It’s been quite a while!”

Tony stepped forward, Steve not too far behind as the questions began to flow.

“How do you and Sparkles know each other?”

“Since when did you know him?”

Thor and I ignored them, completely invested in each other. He finally set me down on my own two feet, but kept a grip on my hips, as I kept a grip on his arms.

“Odin banished me. I thought I’d never see you or Loki again.”

“I know why. Heimdall told me. I deeply apologize for what has happened.”

I shrugged, looking down before asking. “How is he?”

“He was the one that attacked New York. He’s locked up now in an Asgardian prison. But most importantly, he is grieving you.”

“Grieving?”

“He knows father banished you, but not why. He longs your return.”

We were both snapped out of our discussion as Steve spoke up. “Can someone please tell us what is going on here?!”

Thor and I looked from Steve to each other, nodding before I went to sit on the couch, Steve by my side. “It’s a long story.”

After I explained everything to Steve, how I was at one point with Loki, and how I was with his child, I let him process things as I walked out to the balcony. The view was beautiful. I never got a chance to see New York from this high up before. I carefully rubbed my stomach, feeling like I was reassuring the baby, but I was actually reassuring myself. All I could think of were the bad possibilities.

What if they locked me up? What if they took me back to Asgard and locked me up? Would I never see Thor again? Or Steve? And what about Loki? Would I ever really see him again?

I was pulled from my thoughts when a figure joined my side, the redhead everyone called Nat.

“So….” She whispered, turning her gaze to me, as I kept mine to the skyline. “You dated Loki?”

I nodded slowly, looking to her. “For quite a few years before I arrived here.”

“And you are pregnant with his kid?”

“That is why I was banished. Is there a point?”

“Are you… upset? Over what happened a couple of months ago?”

“I wasn’t aware of who it was until….quite recently. All I was told was that the Chitauri attacked. During the attack, I was trapped in the library, so I only saw the aftermath. I don’t know of Loki’s motives besides his grief of my leaving. I have lost everything, Loki, my home. I’ve had to start anew in an unfamiliar place, with nobody I knew. I have to raise this child alone. Of course, I am upset-”

“You’re not alone.” Steve’s voice spoke up, causing both Nat and I to turn to him. He stood in the doorway with his head down, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Wh-What?”

“You have your “parents”. And you have me. And all of the Avengers. But please, let me help you, Y/N. Let me help you raise this baby. I know I’m not the father and I am no good at understanding kids but-”

“Yes,” I whispered, walking up to him slowly.

“What?” He asked quickly, lifting his head to make eye contact.

“Yes. You can help.” I whispered before hugging his waist, resting my head on his chest. I felt him slowly pull his hands out of his pocket and wrap his arms around me, keeping me close as he rested his chin on the top of my head. “Just… promise you’ll stay Steve. Promise me you’ll stay with me.”

All he gave was a nod and hold me. Nat slipped away to join the others inside, leaving us to hug as the city lights shined bright behind us. Just us. And for the first time in what seemed like forever,

I was home.

[writingbarnes]

The Cursed Heir [ Bucky Barnes x Reader ] • 4 of 5

Summary : “This is just a dream.” [Y/N] muttered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Is it?” 

Fairy Tale/Prince Bucky AU

THE CURSED HEIR FIC  |  AO3

Character : Bucky Barnes X OC ( Reader )   |  Genre : Fluff, light angst |  Words : 3.2K-ish

Author’s Note : This is where the angst comes in yay. I love that i get to write about bucky with his beautiful hair. BUT BOI I can’t find a gif that doesn’t have a metal arm in it so pls ignore that high-tech background in the gif Oh well. My head is spinning rn & i don’t think it’s normal 🙃 I should probably sleep lol anyway, I hope you like it. Tell me what you think! As always, thank you victoria for helping me with this fic <3

Bucky loved to watch her draw. Steve was always quiet when he drew, the world seemed to melt away the moment he picked up his pencils. Sometimes he would look up and shake his head to lose the crick in his neck but he would be back in his own world in no time, filling the pages with drawings so beautiful it made his heart hurt. But she was different. She was a chaotic mess, fiddling with different pencils, hands dirtied by the charcoal as she smudged out something on the paper. Her animated eyes darted between every object around her every so often, lips curling into a satisfied smile when she finished a drawing. And she talked to him a lot. She would clutch the end of the book with her left hand and draw with her right, eyes focused on the paper, and still she would look up every once in a while and pause just to animate her stories with hand gestures.

“It would be exactly 100 years since the witch put the curse next week.” Bucky offhandedly mentioned as he sipped on his wine. His left arm ached again. It had worsened the past week, he noticed, and so had the nightmares. He pushed back the irrational fear to back of his mind and focused his attention on [Y/N] who was seated on the other side of the blanket.

Unlike Steve, who let Bucky go through his drawing book, [Y/N] never let him take a little peek. The only drawing he had seen was the flowers she drew him as an apology weeks ago (it was framed and found a permanent spot on the table next to his bed).

“What are you drawing?” Bucky asked, frowning when she leaned the book away from his sight.

“Flowers. The lake.” She quipped.

“You can’t be drawing the lake the whole time.” He didn’t care that he sounded like a whiny toddler asking for an extra serving of his favorite jelly. He scooted closer, ignoring the fluttery feeling in his stomach, and nudged her shoulder with his finger.

“Are you a child?” [Y/N] sighed. “I told you it’s a secret.”

“But I want to see it.” Bucky was sporting the puppy-eyed look Steve always flashed whenever she tried to say no to whatever scheme he was planning. “I’ll give you the last piece of bread?” He asked, still trying to get his hands on the stupid sketchbook. So she did the first thing that come to her mind. She threw it a few feet away from them, away from Bucky who pouted in disappointment.

“Can’t I see just one drawing?”

“I’ll let you see the ones in my old notebook.” [Y/N] finally said, patting his thigh before standing up to grab the sketchbook she had thrown to the grass in panic.

Maybe she stood up too quickly, or maybe she was just that bad with her balance and coordination, because the next thing she knew, she was falling face first into the ground and would have smack her face against the boulder and ruined the makeup and hair that she definitely didn’t do to impress Bucky if he didn’t pull her back. Both of them ended up toppling on the blanket, the wine sloshed to the blanket.

When she opened her eyes again, she was laying on top of him and he was staring at her with an unreadable expression. His eyes were soft and fond as always but there was something else, something she couldn’t quite decipher and he had his hand gently brushing away the hair that went to her face. She thought she could kiss him right now, when he had his lips quirked into a small tender smile that had secretly wormed its way into her heart.

“You’re the worst.” Bucky huffed a fond laugh, his other hand still planted on her back. She grinned at him and Bucky’s laughter died on his throat. The sunlight served as a perfect backlight for her, making her look more incandescent than she already was. If he just leaned in a little bit closer, he thought as he gazed down to her lips. He could just kiss her and maybe tell her about his feelings. Right when he was about to lean in, his eyes caught the spilled wine, the red reminding him of the blood that stained the royal chapel and the color of her dress.

“Look at what you have done, love.” Her honeyed voice felt like sharp knives against his heart. His head was hurting. She placed her hand on his cheek and went on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of his lips. “This was all you.” Her red lips stretched into a wicked smile.

“No.” Bucky shook his head, his breathing ragged. He smelled blood and death. He blinked a few times, praying for his sight to be wrong. “No.”

“BUCKY. THIS ISN’T YOU!” Steve shouted.

“Why don’t you end them too?” She purred, her sharp nails made crescent marks on his neck. “Maybe I will let you live for another week, love. Then, I will take over this kingdom. All thanks to your love and dedication-“

“Bucky?”

“NO!” Bucky wrenched himself away from her, profusely blinking away the tears. He retched at the memories. It took him a few deep breaths and a soft voice calling his name to take him back.

“Bucky?” He looked to his side and his heart dropped at the sight. He must’ve pushed her too hard. There was trail of blood seeping through the sleeve of her dress from when she hit the boulder behind her. She looked shaken, hands trembling as she tried to approach him.

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “Don’t.” He stopped her before she could touch his left arm. It felt like it was burning. He swallowed back the tears and stammered, “I’m sorry,” before he staggered to his feet and ran off.

.

Clint Barton found [Y/N] that night crying by the lake. He would’ve thought it was a ghost if he had drank an extra glass of the liquor King T’challa sent them yesterday. He cleared his throat to let her know of his presence and slowly approached her. Whatever questions he had in his mind vaporized when he saw dried blood on her arms.

“What happened?” He asked her. He knew what had happened. Bucky was running down the hall, knocking everything in his way and locked himself inside his room. Steve told them it was another flashback and he accidentally pushed her. She was probably terrified of him, Steve relayed Bucky’s words with a frustrated look. But the look [Y/N] gave him made him think twice about why she was crying.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“Do you want to talk?” Clint sat next to her, pushing away the glasses and empty basket. She had her knees tucked into her chest, face buried in her arms and Clint wondered if she would ever talk to him.

“My heart hurts.” She mumbled. She raised her head and turned to him with a broken smile. “He left.”

“He did. He was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Himself.” Clint answered a beat later. He turned to her. “There were things that happened to him, that were done to him that day. It was…It didn’t just go away, even after decades or a hundred years. I can’t tell you what, because this is not my story to tell. But I know he cares about you more than you think. And he’s scared.”

“I’m tired.” [Y/N] quietly said. “I’m going to go back to the castle.”

Clint nodded quietly as he watched her picked up her book and pencils. He waited for her to compose herself, offering a piece of handkerchief to wipe her face.

“Thank you.” She smiled. It was hollow and insincere. But Clint didn’t say anything. He just let her lead the way back to the castle and bid her a soft good night when they reached her room.

It was funny how things could go from great to not-so-great, awfully disastrous in a matter of seconds. She replayed the moment she ruined it over and over again as she closed the door and she climbed into her bed. She shouldn’t have called his name, or tried to touch his arm, she chastised herself. Tears welled up in her eyes again.

“Thank you for staying here.” She mumbled to the cat who had joined her in her bed. Butterscotch stared at her for a long moment before she walked over towards her and nudged her wet cheek with her head.

[Y/N] scratched Butterscotch’s head, her cries quieted down to an occasional sniffling while the cat lay down on her lap, letting her pet her until she fell asleep.

.

[Y/N] was not a stranger of nightmares. She had her fair share of nightmares when her parents passed away and even during the first few days in the castle, fear overriding her brain. It was usually just her, trying to run from a shadowed figure and she would wake up hours later with her heart racing like she just ran a marathon, the details of the dream soon washed away by the cool water.

It was different this time. She found herself kneeling on the marbled floor of her room and she could sense a presence behind her.

“Hello there.”

She felt the burning pain even before it stepped into her view and touched the sharp end of her staff to her heart. It burned through her skin and straight into her heart. She fleetingly noticed it had glowed bright blue and wondered if this was how she was going to die. All cries for help stuck in her throat, her eyes filled with unshed tears as she looked up at her.

Oh, she was beautiful. That was the first thing that came to her mind when she saw her face. No wonder Bucky fell in love with her. She’d fall in love with her if she didn’t see her in this state. Her long wavy hair flowed down to her waist. She had blood red lipstick on her lips, her eyebrows arched as though she could read her mind.

“Trying to steal what’s mine?” Her voice was shrill and high-pitched enough to hurt her ears. Her long nails were like talons when it grabbed her chin harshly, forcing her to look at her. “I have been giving him warnings. But he keeps ignoring it. Boys, right?” She giggled, “I suppose I have to kill you first. Maybe he’ll realize he could never stop obeying my command.”

“Fuck off.” [Y/N] said between gasps.

“Oh, I like you a lot!” The woman laughed again, pressing her staff a little deeper into her chest. “The heart of his true love. I could be sated for another century if I could just get your heart. Maybe his too, because I will make sure he knows who he belongs to.”

“He’s not that stupid.” [Y/N] grumbled blocking the fall with her arms when the woman pushed her away.

She only looked at her with a look that sent shivers down her spine. Her eyes gleamed wickedly under the moonlight. “We’ll see.” She said, snapping her fingers. [Y/N] heard a loud screaming noise a moment later, hands clenched to a tight fist once she recognized the owner of said voice.

“This is just a dream.” [Y/N] muttered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Is it?”

The next time she opened her eyes, she was back in her bed, sweating and panting for breath, with tendrils of hair stuck on her face. There was a lingering pain in her chest and she thought she saw a bruise if she looked down her nightgown. Water. She needed a cool glass of water, she decided, trying to climb out of the bed without falling on her ass. Her hand froze right before she could grab the water jug on the table, ears perking up at the familiar screaming sound.

She thought she was still dreaming, head still spinning even as she dragged her fatigued self out of the room, hands pressed against the wall for support. His room was at the end of the hall, with Steve’s behind the door next to hers. She tried to call his name, voice only reaching a raspy whisper when she opened her mouth. The next scream made her quicken her step towards Bucky’s room.

 .

The door was slightly open and whatever questions she had planned to ask died in her throat the moment she saw him. He was lying on the chair, chest glowing bright red as the woman put her talons on it. She turned to [Y/N] for a moment, smile so wide and wicked it made her stumble on her feet.

“No.” [Y/N] tried to stop her, tears blurring her vision. Her shaky hands went to the staff the woman was holding and the woman raised her eyebrows in amusement.

“You can barely walk and you want to fight me?” She asked.

“I want to kill you.” [Y/N] gritted her teeth, pushing the woman away from Bucky, who took a loud gasp of breath once the woman fell back. He looked at her with unfocused eyes, trying to register what had just happened. There was a second pause as the woman raised her staff before he realized her intention. Another scream was ripped out of his throat when she thrusted the sharp end of the staff at [Y/N]’s chest. Bucky watched [Y/N] crumpled to her knees in horror.

“So weak,” she spat, leaning down to [Y/N]’s level. “I wonder what will happen if I push this a little deeper and destroy your true love’s heart, Bucky?” The women grinned.

“GET AWAY FROM THEM!” Steve’s voice from the door startled them, enough that Bucky saw a glint of fear in the woman’s eyes. Clint, bless him and his aim, threw his blade at the woman, grinning triumphantly when it hit her stomach. It didn’t seem to hurt her much, but it did make her let go of [Y/N], letting her slump to the floor.

“If you think this is over, you are sorely mistaken.” The woman gasped, the eerie smile still on her face. “I can wait until she dies to get what I want. Maybe I should take your hearts too.” She cackled before disappearing into a smoke.

Bucky crawled to where [Y/N] lay and gently pulled her into his chest, the words ‘sorry’ escaped his lips over and over again while his friends took careful steps towards him.

“I don’t feel so good.” [Y/N] gasped softly, her clutch on Bucky’s shirt slowly loosened. He shook his head, brushing the tears away from her face with his thumb.

“It’s going to be okay.” He told her. He couldn’t stop the sob that escaped his lips when her body went limp in his hold.

“I’ll send letters to the King and the witch.” Sam said before he ran out of the room to get his falcon.

“We should get her to bed. She doesn’t seem to bleed. It’s a good thing, right?” Steve asked, turning to Natasha and Clint who looked just as confused as he was.

“It’s better than a stab wound to the chest.” Natasha finally said, crouching down in front of Bucky. “We need to get her cleaned up, Bucky. And you too.” Clint nodded and walked out of the room to call the servants on Natasha’s quiet order. No one spoke as they tried to get Bucky to move.

“It’s my fault.” Bucky mumbled as Natasha pulled him up, eyes fixed on [Y/N] even as Steve carried her out of the room.

“No, it’s not.” Natasha’s soft voice was so unlike her and on any other day, it would help ease the guilt in his heart. Not today, probably not ever. He didn’t think anything could lessen the pain in his chest but he kept his lips shut as he followed Natasha out of the room.

.

They needed to repaint the walls of his old room Natasha took him to. If he stared at it long enough, he could see traces of his childhood drawing underneath the white paint that has slightly yellowed and chipped. There was a spot right under the small window where there used to be a small antique upright piano and he would pretend he was a natural-born artist like Steve (he wasn’t. Not even close). His mother never really scolded him, not even when he used the brightest colored crayons and fill the stark white walls with the most abstract drawings (he thought it was because Steve’s drawing next to his were really pretty). When he was older, he let them paint over the drawing, hoping it would help him be more mature. He ended up letting Steve paint one wall of his room with flowers and night sky during his teenage years. The beautiful mural stayed there until he was in his mid-twenties. By then, the princess had come and put him under her spell and the painting was soon seen more as a nuisance. He recalled Steve’s promise of a better painting once he’s married, though he supposed the promise was long forgotten after what happened.

Steve was still talking when Bucky slowly came back from the flashback. He had walked into his room an hour ago with an old book given by the witches who had helped them decades ago and started on explaining what might be happening to [Y/N]. Bucky had tuned everything out after Steve mentioned there was no conclusive spell or medicine to wake her up. Except for the curse, which Bucky doubt they could break after tonight’s event.

“She seemed stronger.” Natasha stated, wrapping a piece of scarf around Bucky’s neck. He didn’t notice his body was shaking until Natasha and Steve gave him a worried look. “She still can’t kill any of us on the castle ground.”

“It’s a good thing.” Clint added, he had come back with Steve, two maids in tow with a tray of warm food and drinks. “That means she couldn’t do anything to us and her. We probably have to wait for Monica to come and help us. Peggy should be back this week. Maybe she could help us too.”

Bucky finally looked at them at the mention of [Y/N]’s sister, his eyes red and bright with unshed tears. “She knows?”

“Sam sent his falcon to give her the news.” Clint nodded. “Don’t we have those old books on healing at the library? There should be something that could help [Y/N].”

“We should probably go there and see if we can find anything useful. Do you want to go see her first, Bucky?” Steve fixed his attention on him again, his blue eyes clouded with worry and sympathy.

“She doesn’t need me there.” Bucky said and shook his head. He ignored the look in Steve’s face and gritted his teeth. You wouldn’t understand. The words hung right on the tips of his lips but he knew Steve didn’t deserve whatever lashing out he wanted to do. Bucky opted to stayed quiet and grabbed his coat from the chair before he quickly left the room.

Tagging some people : @pleasecallmecaptain @mangosoldier @wakandasoldier @tabi-toast @writing-soldiers @4theluvofall @meavie @montysmayhem @scarlettsoldier @marvelrevival @sebbys-girl@waitingfortherightpartner @sebstan-theman​ @elfwriter1088@wordsturnintostories@chromealchemist@showbuckysomelove @meavie @sawdustandsugar @amiteran

[avangee]

Fourth Of July (Pt. 5)

Read on AO3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Mikey really needed a shower, his legs were itching from the being in the grass earlier, his own cum was drying on his stomach and he’s pretty sure that the lollipop had gotten stuck on his shirt. His cheek hurt and so did his ass. Pete looked pretty much fine, he just wiped off the cum with his shirt, took off the condom and was done with it all. Michael James Way was all fucked out  and it was a lot of work, the bottom whined as he tried to move off the bed. When he tried to stand he just fell back onto the bed due to his legs being jelly. Fuck Pete for fucking him.

“I wanna be clean,” Mikey grumbled out in a whiny voice, he was delirious and it was not okay. “Pete help.”

Pete nodded and got up, grabbing Mikey, who’s jeans were still half down and who had lost basic motor functions. Mikey’s dick was rubbing agaisnt Pete’s chest but he couldn’t even find the energy to adjust himself so he wasn’t whimpering every six seconds. After two entire minutes of Pete’s ‘where the fuck is the bathroom’s, the two finally got in the  room and started the shower.  Mikey couldn’t even fucking stand, he sat on the cold, tile floor in the bathroom.  He did not like Pete in that moment, but he really wanted Pete to stay.

“I can’t move, fuck you and your dick,” Mikey whined, although it had been the best fuck of his almost seventeen years, he just wanted to be back to his normal, not sore self.

Pete laughed at him, the fucker. Mikey ignored him with a pout and started the epic journey from the floor to the bath. Suprisingly, it didn’t take much to shove off the rest of his clothes and drag himself into the tub. He sat under the stream of hot water, flinching when it hit the burn on his cheek. The younger hadn’t closed the curtain due to Pete jamming a dick inside of him and making him cum fucking three times in the last hour, fuck Pete, and fuck Pete for being concerned about the flinching because that was kind of his fault too. Just, fuck Pete in general.

“Dude, you okay?” Fucking Pete asked this fucking question. Two things were absolutely wrong with this stupid fucking question 1) of course Mikey is not o-fucking-kay, so fuck Pete and 2) who the fuck calls the person they just fucked dude? Who the fucking fuck? Fuck Pete.

Mikey pouted at fucking Pete because, Fuck. Pete. And then his entire body was shaking and he was seeing black. The shower pressure, being the shitty fifty dollar thing it was, shifted and made a fucking path directly onto Mikey’s fucking dick, in those three seconds of pressurised water to dick contact Mikey started to cry. He was crying because of the truly harsh overstimulation and because somehow he got it in his mind that Pete didn’t care. Okay, that was just fucking stupid Mikey knew Pete didn’t care, because he is literally just doing any of this because it’s summer and they’re both pretty intoxicated.  Mikey was so busy ‘what-the-fucking’ his thought he didnt even notice that Pete had stumbled into the shower, still dressed, and was staring at Mikey.

“Holy fucking shit,” Mikey choked out with a laugh, “What the fuck are you doing, Wentz?”

Pete stared some more, it was probably the marijuana. Mikey moved his hand up to wipe the tears from his eyes, but Pete surged foward and fucking kissed the tears. What the actual fuck? Mikey kind of liked it, and if he was half as sober and didn’t crave excessive affection, he wouldn’t have let Pete near him again. One night -well day- stands, and all that. His liver and lungs didn’t appreciate the last time he got hurt, emotionally.

Since he was drunk, high and feeling extremely touched starved, he let Pete kiss him and didn’t stop the other from rubbing his back. Mikey liked being touched like that, he loved affection, “Take your fucking clothes off, we’re in the shower.”

Pete did just that, standing to shrug off his clothes and throwing the soaked clothes onto the bathroom floor. The football player closed the shower curtain and adjusted the water temperature before sitting behind Mikey, his legs wrapped around the younger’s waist. Mikey didn’t think as he relaxed back into Pete, the shower was hot but not too hot. It was nice, just sitting in the shower with Pete Wentz. That’s a sentence Mikey never thought he would think. Hell, he didn’t even imagine he was ever going to talk more than ‘don’t copy off my fucking test’. Mikey giggled as he thought about the fuck was going on, he fucked the quaterback, Pete Wentz, after he had given Mikey a blowjob.

“This is nice, a real cliche. Captain of the football team fucking the nerd, except it’s usually straight and I probably would’ve had to tutor you.” Mikey looked up at Pete, his voice was light and weird.

“God, why can’t anything ever be gay? There’s too many straight movies out there, where are all of my gay romances?” Pete whined as he grabbed some shampoo from the edge of the tub.

Mikey told Pete about the non-straight movies he had seen on Netflix before, and Pete told him he didn’t have Netflix, “Dude, you’re missing out. Also, What the fuck? Doesn’t every person have the great Netflix at this day and age? Are you an alien?”

“Oh no, my cover’s blown. I gotta get back to my motherboard and hurry up the invasion,” Pete joked, he started to rub shampoo into Mikey’s hair. Mikey didn’t really expect that, but he wasn’t going to move. He was so comfortable on Pete, it was like they were a couple, which they are not.

“You know, you’re different than I thought you’d be,” Mikey thought out loud, Pete raised an eyebrow as he worked the soap into the younger’s hair.

“What’d you think I’d be like?” Pete replied, he sounded a little amused. Mikey kind of liked this Pete, as opposed to the Pete he thought was the real him.

“Straight for starters, and just a typical dick-ish, fuckboy meathead,” Mikey said, turning around so he could rinse out his hair. He was facing Pete, both naked, and Mikey was pretty much sober so he assumed Pete was too.

Pete laughed and pulled Mikey back into his lap, dicks out and Pete’s hands on Mikey’s waist, “Well, I’m definitely not straight.”

“Yeah the other stuff is pretty spot on though.”

Pete frowned and pushed Mikey with his free hand, his other hand was on Mikey’s waist so the boy only fell back enough to scare him. The ‘dick-ish, meathead jock’ laughed and pulled the other back into his lap, closer this time. Mikey mumbled out a ‘fuck you’.

“Already did, Mikes,” Pete said, he stole a kiss from an angry Mikey.

Mikey hit him as they kissed, it was almost like they were a couple. Having playful arguments and kissing without sex, but they weren’t and this was just a one-time thing. Without the sex part was starting to annoy the younger, it was weird to kiss and cuddle without anything else. So, Mikey kissed along Pete’s jaw. He kept kissing down until he got to Pete’s neck, sucking and biting as he dragged his hands through the shorter’s hair. Mikey pulled off, admiring the hickeys that were not going to leave Pete’s neck any time soon. He kept going down, leaving hickeys down the middle of the older’s chest. Taking one of Pete’s nipples in his mouth, Mikey swirled his tongue around the pink nub, he huffed hot air onto Pete’s chest. The older boy whined and whimpered, Mikey could tell he was stifiling moans, so the quaterback liked to have his nipples played with? Mikey chuckled in his throat and bit down lightly on Pete. The shorter whined and a moan escaped his mouth. Fuck.

Pete’s moans were hot, really hot. The noises that came out of Pete’s mouth were high, whiny moans with little gasps. Fuck if they didn’t turn Mikey on. The taller boy supposed he wasn’t listening close enough to Pete when they were fucking. How the fuck didn’t he notice Pete’s moans were so god damn hot?

Mikey sucked a hickey into Pete’s nipple, biting every now and then, everytime he did Pete moaned. The water was still hot against Mikey’s back by some miracle. The water normally lost it’s heat within seconds, Gerard would have to shower cold today. He deserves it for always taking the hot water. Okay, that was not the time to think about his brother at all. What the fuck? Mikey stifled a gag at his thoughts.

He focused back on Pete, who was a whimpering mess under Mikey. Fuck, it was hot. The boy probably could’ve cum just from that but the younger wasn’t that much of a tease. He stopped torturing Pete’s nipple and went down more, so he was on his knees and almost laying down as his feet reached the edge of the tub.

He was level with Pete’s hard penis, since he had moved the water was hitting the older’s stomach. A few splashes reaching his dick, causing Pete to tense up and move foward a bit before relaxing again. Mikey licked the head, Pete let out a low moan at the contact. The younger licked again, bringing the bitter precum against his tongue. In an odd way it tasted good but Mikey was mostly indifferent. Penises are mostly weird, but they nake sense. That’s probably why Mikey’s so fucking attracted to them. He licked again, and again. Pete was whining, saying he wanted more. Mikey kept licking, he has a terrible habit of doing the exact opposite of what anyone wants. Pete was shaking and moaning, Mikey laughed, his hot breath on the leaking dick in front of him. His legs were starting to hurt from his position.

“Stand up,” Mikey ordered, looking up at Pete with eyes that he knew would make Pete do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Pete stood up, mumbling curses at his shaking legs. The older was almost plastered to the wall farthest from the water, Mikey straightened his back and pushed himself onto his knees. He kissed around Pete’s thighs, just trying to get him angry at that point. Mikey had started to bite at Pete’s balls when he got the older angry.

“Fu- uck you, Mikey Way. Please jus- please - you’re tease-. Can I just, just fuck your mouth?” Pete growled, Mikey could tell Pete was restraining himself, but he smirked and nodded.

Mikey slacked his jaw, it was going to be fucking sore. Pete told him something about tapping him if he needed to stop or something. Mikey smiled widely at the thought of the almost-safe-word.

“Just fuck my mouth, Wentz.” Mikey thought it was cute how concerned Pete was acting and he didn’t really want to think that at all.

Pete shoved his dick into Mikey’s mouth, only half way. Mikey didn’t really think Pete was that big but a dick doesn’t seem huge until it is inside of you. He widened his mouth as Pete slowly pushed in, Mikey looked up at him. Classic porn move, but Mikey didn’t really care. Neither did Pete, it seemed, because he pulled Mikey’s hair and his thrusts quickened. It wasn’t his entire length still, Mikey whined and moved farther up on Pete’s penis as he thrusted. Mikey couldn’t breathe as a wild dick appeared deep in his throat. Pete was fucking Mikey’s throat and fuck, it kind of felt good. Other than the obvious non-breathing aspect, but Mikey loved the feeling of being full. It was almost as if Pete’s dick was poking at Mikey’s Adam’s Apple. The younger put hand up to his neck, fucking hell, it was. How big was Pete?

Pete pulled out of Mikey, he caught his breath and immediately began licking the still hard dick as Pete moaned his high, whiny moan. The older groaned, repeatedly saying that he was going to cum through his moans. Pete pulled Mikey’s hair, hard as he came on Mikey’s face. Most of the cum made it into Mikey’s open mouth. The rest was spread across mikeys face, as it fell. Mikey licked over every inch of Pete’s dick, staring up porn-style with cum on his face and falling slowly into the draining water everytime he opened his mouth. Pete’s body was hot as Mikey felt around his legs, the younger sucked a few hickies into Pete’s thighs as he kissed them. The older boy’s afterglow lasted a while as the two actually fuvking showered, they kissed lazily as the oppurtunities to do so arised.

It was almost as if they were dating. Fuck. They were not dating, Mikey was acting like an idiot. He was never going to date Pete Wentz. They were not dating.

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

[theolivechickken]

Game of Turons

May or may not be missing Filipino food at this point..

April 1

Quick day-trip to Mostar. It’s so beautiful here! We had a fresh little taste-tour of homemade and local cheeses paired with bread, paprika spread, and salami. We had the chance to try a bitter cherry drink (I thought it was pretty sweet and tasty) and also this syrupy cookie. Basically a lunch. We weren’t entirely hungry afterwards, so we grabbed a cone of gelato and sat out on the ruins of the original bridge (Stari Most) and watched as bridge jumpers collected money from tourists and took the plunge. Sugar mama Craven also needed to spend those marks, so she treated everyone to some fine souvenirs. We all got matching bracelets (yay friendship) and also got some matching copper earrings (sorry pat). I could finally see the appeal of shopping since I just had money to throw around and get rid of.

Holy hell it is hot out. A toasty 80-ish degrees. How am I going to survive when I come back home to So-Cal and Phoenix?? I used to think anything below 90 degrees was cold and now I’m perfectly warm and comfortable in 45-50 degree weather. We had an afternoon tour to learn about the history of Mostar and visit a mosque and Kajtaz house. We were also able to climb the museum tower next to Stari Most and talk to a local who had been living in Mostar at the time of the wars and helped to rebuild the new bridge despite the fact that he was held captive in the war, used as a human shield, and lost some mobility in his left arm. He was very friendly and open about his experiences.

Uno ruins friendships. We played an almost endless 2 hour game on the bus ride to Dubrovnik and the only reason we stopped (besides the fact that we were already over the game) was because the sun was going down and we couldn’t tell yellow from green anymore.

April 2

Game of thrones who?? Yeah so I still have yet to finish the show. Please no spoilers and I’m sorry that I might not be able to fully understand the settings here that were used in the show. BUT I WILL SOMEDAY.

I’m in love with Dubrovnik. I love the ocean and the sea. Basically any body of natural water. I love the fresh air and the warm sun and the salty breeze. I love the orange rooftops and the FREAKING castle in the middle of town. I love the cliffsides that are inviting us to dive into the freezing cold water.

I got wet. We went down to the rocky cliffs and I wanted to get close enough to dip my toes into the water. Welp, I did. But then the waves were excited to see me too and just whipped my legs, soaking my pants from the knees down. No worries though. There’s still enough time in the day to lie out on the rocks and let them air dry. And that’s what I did.

Please sir let me go kayaking. We still had time to kill and figured why not? It was such a challenge to figure out how to get down from the castle and streets level to the pebble beach area. We finally got down and the guy was like please don’t, I’m trying to close up shop for the day. It was 3:30pm. There’s still plenty of “day” but I guess he’s the boss of his own hours. We sat on the little pier overlooking the water and watched as the last few kayakers paddled back to shore and turned in their gear. We also saw Patrick at the top of the tower across the water! He came down to meet us at our spot. We also saw a youngish teenage boy rowing this girl to shore. Hi can I steal your boat? It was super tiny and could barely fit the two of them in it, but I tried imagining how to fit all four of us into it. We observed as he spent the next 10 minutes helping the girl out of the boat and then rowing to his parking spot, securing his boat to the ropes, and then nimbly climbing out to the pier deck. He made everything look so easy and we enjoyed playing with the idea that we’d all fall in the water or get stranded 5 minutes into rowing.

We took the world’s slowest taxi back up to the hotel, but at least he was a safe (unless driving too slow is dangerous?) driver. We changed into our swimsuits, excited to spend time in the pool at the hotel. I think it was old people hour though? I hope we didn’t disturb them too much. Our plan was to hang out in the hot tub but the water was lukewarm?? We sat in somewhat cool water and had jets attacking our limbs from every angle. Not really a grand time but definitely an interesting one. At one point, we gathered hands and prayed to the jacuzzi gods for the 2 seconds of warmth that would happen when the jets would first start up. 100% worth it for those two seconds.

April 3

I like the long bus rides- they are comfortable and prime time for introspection (#feeling inspired). Today’s extended pitstop is in Zadar. Home of the beautiful sunsets, Monument to the Sun, and Sea Organ. In the early afternoon, Patrick, Raine, Aubree, and I walked to the grocery store to pick up supplies for nutella and banana sandwiches (since there was no jelly). We also met up with Kaya and Sara and joined them at McDonald’s for lunch (fun fact: their cola weirdly tasted like bubblegum??)

We had Sara’s sparknotes cool-aunt version of a tour, which ended with us soaking up the sun, watching the rough waves roll and crash, and listening to the wondrous and unique song of the sea organ. We took a snack break to bring back pizza to eat while watching the red-dot sun set behind the voluptuous blue-purple clouds. The sun honestly seemed to slip away so quickly. Live it in the moment, folks. Sometimes it’s not worth it for the instagram. It’s worth it to be present.

We’re addicted to crazy 8 at this point and itching to head back to the hotel to connect to the wifi and destroy friendships. But first, gelato. Since it was late in the evening, our guy piled scoops into our cones.

April 4

Took a lovely nature stroll through Plitvice Lakes National Park! So many waterfalls gracefully cascading down. Such a pretty sight and I could never get tired of it. I just took my time walking through the paths, and at one point Sara encouraged us to spend 10 minutes sitting by ourselves in the sounds of nature. Blissful.

We had lunch outside and tried to not get dust blown into our food or get blown away from the strong winds. We let our food digest as we took a ride on the world’s slowest boat. It didn’t even feel like we were moving- the ride was almost too smooth.

When we arrived at Hotel Park, SaVanna’s mom (and her mom’s best friend) came out and surprised her in the lobby. We all couldn’t help but feel a little butt-hurt because 1. we were all on our periods (maybe Patrick too) and just emotional wrecks in general and 2. we hadn’t seen any of our loved ones for MONTHS and she had received a lot of love via care packages and letters from friends/family, her boyfriend visited her for spring break, and now her mom was here to surprise her for the weekend. Super happy for her but salty that we got slapped in the face with it.

Anyways, hello Ljubljana! Weird full circle. It’s like a combination of everywhere that I’ve visited. It’s got hints of Salzburg/Vienna/Budapest with its architecture, Amsterdam (with its bikes), Berlin (with it’s energy). Feels hip and fun. Had beers, burgers, and bomb conversations for dinner. Such a great time hanging out with the squad along the river and laughing about some of our most embarrassing stories. Afterwards we went back to the hotel and passed ouuuuut (rip crazy 8, maybe we’ll catch ya next time).

April 5

Ljubljana walking tour with another lovely guide! He was such a warm and welcoming soul, and he was very excited to show us around even though it was a wet and stormy day. I had an umbrella, but I still managed to get wet. Nike? More like yikes. Tried to keep my shoes dry but then the puddles continued to rise and my feet were already wet so might as well just go all out and step in the puddles. At the end of the tour, we had a river cruise, which turned into a champagne (booze) cruise courtesy of Katharina showing up to surprise Sara on her birthday :)

Had the most amazing falafel wraps in my life. Went back to the hotel to rest for a bit. Raine took a nap, but I just relaxed in the comfort of my dry, warm bed and watched youtube videos for a few hours.

Later, we ventured back out for dinner (at the same place that we visited the night before) and ended up staying out with the rest of the crew since they were at the same restaurant as us :)

April 6

Goodbye Ljubljana! At least it’s not raining today. One last stop before we return home: Postojna Cave. This cave is HUGE. We had to ride a little tram into the walkable parts of the cave, and I swear it was a 15 minute ride in a little cart on train tracks. It was jerky and weirdly close to the walls and I felt like I was going to hit my head every 10 seconds. Also got carsick on the ride, so it wasn’t the best tour of my life. Still, the caves were pretty impressive. How can rocks look like paper sometimes?? Our tour guide also had fun surprising us and at one point she went to the generator and turned off the lights and it was PITCH black. I’ve been in darkness before, but nothing compares to those few seconds in complete blackness. Everyone was talking and trying to find each other (even as we were standing next to one another to begin with) and I still felt like I was the only one in the area and everyone else was so far away.

At the end of the tour, we walked into a little cave room area where our photographs were up for sale. So that’s what those people were doing when we entered the tram entrance! They were literally all up in our faces with their flash photography and I thought they were trying to capture some famous person behind me or trying to get a picture of my face to document every individual who enters in case there’s a tragic emergency and they need evidence of who went in and didn’t come out, but turns out they were just trying to catch us as off guard as possible for the worst photos in the world lol

Back on the road again = back in my sleepyhead dreamland

We said our final goodbyes to our lovely bus driver Benny (rip cause these goodbyes were so short too). I’m gonna miss that Mr. Bean soul.

Yay for being home before the sun goes down for once! And hello spring in Salzburg! So excited to be here while the weather gods kindly bless us.

[wordsofapanda]

My sister is super preggo so to help her out I took pictures for 8 hours to help her business. I had to stand/bend over for 8 ish hours in a super humid/hot room adjusting two professional lights and taking pictures of outfits then editing the photos. I didn’t think it would be that strenuous until I realized I was so hot I couldn’t cool down and the day after my back hurt. I had to hang out with my boyfriends family and he knew I wasn’t feeling good so he’s like fuck it we will buy you snacks. So I bought a huge thing of unsweetened tea, chocolates and some healthy chips because I was in so much pain and I ran out of my prescription ibuprofen because he stole some of mine. Luckily his family smoked me out when I arrived. God bless weed. It took my back pain away. My back felt like my spine turned into jelly and could not support the weight of my body. My boyfriend is always so thoughtful he wanted to buy more ibuprofen for me but my doc forgot to call for a refill. I hate ibuprofen and I try not to take it but toughing it out has been hard lately so god bless weed. Weed has been the only thing that has actually helped my 1) period cramps 2) back pain from scoliosis 3) drug withdrawals from taking trial medications. Now my back pain has kicked back in and I can’t sleep at 4 in the morning. Uhuu.

[byamylaurens]

How To Plan A Pinterest-Worthy Party WITHOUT DYING (Or Losing Your Chill) Pt 2

PART TWO: THE PLANNING

4: DECORATIONS

Having done your initial brainstorm, you’ll have come across some things that you’re definitely keen on implementing – food ideas, decorations, maybe activities too. Hold onto all this; we’ll go through it one thing at a time.

First up: decorations. Because I am prone to falling in love with far too many ideas, and the whole point of this process is to keep things fast and contained, I like to do a quick table sketch, because it immediately shows me that I’m trying to pack too much in – it won’t all fit on the table!! 😀 (And yes, make sure to allow plenty of room for food!) You can see my decoration sketch for the narwhal party here, and below is my sketch for the cow party. I didn’t do one for the Toy Story party because it was down at the local park – the only decorations I had were labels for the food/drinks. I also have one for the pirate treasure party, but I ended up raiding my sister’s props cupboard and found a whole bunch of things, so a lot of things changed from that initial plan (though the layout stayed basically the same).

Now, unless decorations are your FOCUS item (and honestly, even if they are), this is where things can spiral out of control and stress you out. The internet has SO many great ideas that look AMAZING – but let’s be honest: most of them look amazing because the person either paid a fortune for them, or spent years of their life on them. Having planned seven kids’ parties of my own now and been involved in a host of others, my rule of thumb is that magic number THREE, as in you only really need THREE key decorations to bring things together.

If decorations are your focus item, you might want to decorate the whole room, but for the rest of us, honestly? Just decorate the table. Make one corner of the room special, and you can pretty much ignore the rest, or just fill it with balloons and/or streamers in your theme colours. (Or, another handy idea for warm-weather parties, we set up a gazebo tent in the backyard – encourages food to be consumed outside, so less mess to worry about, and provides a contained boundary for decorations: the gazebo gets decorated and I’ll maybe stick something on the front door, and that’s it. Contained = keeping you alive.)

From my sketches, you can see my three key items:

a backdrop on the wall behind the table,

a decorative item on the table to give height and drama, and then

small decorations across the front of the table.

Narwhal party: “snowflakes” as the backdrop, silver branches with sea stars on the right back of the table for height/drama/wow factor, and a couple of jellyfish across the front.

Cow party: tied-fabric-strip garland across the back as the backdrop, naked branches for height/drama, and a cow garland across the front of the table.

I made the cow garland the other night and it took a grand total of 30 mins while I was watching TV, and even then only because the cutting out was fiddly (I could have chosen an easier shape).

  Pro tips here: see how the image I chose has a nice, thick, black border around it? That’s wriggle room for cutting so you don’t have to be so careful about cutting exactly right. Further pro tips? If you look closely at some of the cows, you’ll see how neatly I did NOT cut them out, but literally no one is going to notice this except you, because they’ll be focused on the food on the table. On the flip side, a lot more people will notice if you lose your chill 😉 🙂 😀

Treasure party: originally I was going with bubbles for the backdrop with the intent of reusing them for the future narwhal party (yes, I am campaigning hard :D); after raiding my sister’s props cupboard, this was changed to an actual printed-scene backdrop, and some paper circle-fan things in different blues (so bubble-ish). The height was going to be provided by a tree of stacked pineapples in the centre of the fruit salad, but my sister had blow-up palm trees that served the same function for zero cost, and while I was going to make portholes to string across the front of the tables, the fabric maps my sister had worked just as well for zero effort. Yay survival and not losing our chill, right? 🙂

And yes, this concept works for adult parties too. I didn’t really think about it consciously when I decorated for my sister’s baby shower, but the same principles were there:

Backdrop: tree branches and a literal ‘backdrop’ of vines and fairy lights on the table

Height: branches, the cake elevated on top of the fish tank (!), chopping boards on inverted bowls etc, and bunches of flowers to give varied height across the tables

Front element: further vines, branches and fairy lights across the front of the table on the floor.

Exactly the same principles, and yet it made the entire room feel utterly magical.

5: MENU

BEFORE you plan the menu, figure out 1) how many people you’re feeding, 2) how much time you have to cook, and 3) how many people you have to help you cook. The Toy Story party had a more extensive menu because my amazing mum volunteered (okay I begged and pleaded just a little) to make like 20 pizzas for it. The baby’s parties, in both 2017 and 2016? Soup. Soup and bread, because I am cooking and it’s mid-winter and even these ‘family-only’ parties are about 25 people and soup is QUICK and EASY, and easy to scale up.

Even the pizza for the Toy Story party was comparatively easy, because Mum could make them way ahead and freeze them. You do NOT want to be stuck doing major food prep on the day of the party, trust me on that one. That is almost a guaranteed way to lose your chill and end up dead. So I tend to opt for one main savoury dish that is quick, easy, can be prepped ahead and is easy to scale up – pizza, soup, etc. Figure you need one main dish like your pizza or soup, and maybe 2-3 accompaniments (though I’ll be honest, all I accompany soup with is a variety of breads – I guess 2-3 varieties still though, so similar concept?), and the same for dessert: if you’re serving cake, PLEASE serve it as your key dessert, because otherwise you WILL be left with acres and acres of cake that will see you through to the next family birthday! 😀 So, like savouries, figure cake + 2-3 accompaniments.

Which brings you to the only other food-related decision you have to make: to theme or not to theme! Because we’re all about maintaining our chill here, do what works for you. BUT, because we’re only decorating the table, and because why let something do one job when it could do two, I do tend to theme at least some of my food, because then it counts as extra decorations 😉 But you totally don’t have to, and you don’t have to theme all of it (see: soup, and also: chill).

For the Toy Story party (which, note, I have four accompaniments for each course because I had help with cooking!):

Main savoury: pizza, which becomes Pizza Planet pizza of course.

Accompaniments: “Camouflage salad” (just green-leaf salad with a variety of leaf colours, referring to the army men in the movie), “Slinky Dog pasta” (pasta salad with spiral pasta), “Sheriff badges” (cheesy puff pastry stars – referring to Woody), and “Mr Pricklepants pull-apart garlic bread” (get a loaf of bread, cut it into inch squares but not through the base, douse it in garlic butter, wrap in foil and bake).

Main dessert: Buzz Lightyear-inspired rocket cake

Accompaniments: “Cowgirl trail mix” (with lots of lollies and chocolate, of course, referring to Jessie), “Hamm’s Portraits” (pig-face-shaped meringues), “Green Aliens” (cups of green jelly with three meringue eyeballs on top for the Pizza Planet aliens), and “Potato-head Cupcakes” (DIY cupcake decoration – triple bonus: food, decoration AND an activity for the kids!).

Drinks: fruit tea (TEA-rex); water (rocket fuel); banana milkshake (moo juice).

For each of these I just had a little banner on a toothpick with a picture of the character and the name of the food, and voila! That was the decorations for the entire party.

For the narwhal party I wasn’t going to theme at all, because I was literally going to do just soup and cake (I did this in 2016 for her first birthday), but now it’s a cow party I am actually going to do a couple of themed desserts. The main dessert is cake, obviously, but I did circular chocolate brownies for ‘cow pats’ (totally gross but Mr 5 will LOVE it); and round sugar cookies with animal faces (the most time-consuming thing I’m doing, but if I play my organisation right the only things I’ll be doing in the two days up to the party will be these cookies and the cake).*

* Turns out piping faces with royal icing is a lot harder than it looks, so I downscaled: I made cowprint sugar cookies, covered with plain white royal icing and then with brown patches piped on out of dark chocolate.

For the pirate treasure party I kept things really simple, a) because of how much leftover food there was at the last summer kids’ party**, and b) because I was actually working through this process this time (from the worksheets! They do actually work!) which made it easier to keep it contained.

** Spoiler: there was still a lot of food left over. Like, 8 or 10 pizzas. I kid you not.

Main savoury: treasure map pizzas (took about 2-3 hours for two of us to make these the night before, but we also had literally twice as many pizzas as required, and it was FUN making them. Big deal: if it’s not fun, don’t spend so much time on it!)

Accompaniments: Crab croissants (which ended up just being croissants because I ran out of care-factor to make the eyes), seaweed dip with octopus, vegetable tree with crudités, and chips.

Main dessert: CAKE. Of course.

Accompaniments: fruit salad, sugar cookies (shaped as starfish and sand dollars***), and pirate gold (various gold-wrapped or yellow-coloured chocolates and lollies).

Drinks: iced water, tropical juice, and blue gatorade mixed with lemonade as ‘sea water’.

*** Another hot tip: DELEGATE, and get over it if it doesn’t look perfect. I got husband + a friend of his who was staying just before the party to supervise the kids making the sugar cookies (I’d made the dough two days earlier). They LOVED cutting out the cookies and making them (the kids, that is, HA), and were SUPER proud on the day that THEY had contributed 🙂

    How To Plan A Pinterest-Worthy Party WITHOUT DYING (Or Losing Your Chill) Pt 2 was originally published on Amy Laurens

[chelsorz07]

midseason breaks really suck ass

But here’s the latest from my facebook memories. 2009/2017

***********FOODOLOGY*************** 1. What is your salad dressing of choice? honey dijon. Ranch. 2. What is your favorite sit-down restaurant? tgi friday's. Usually Applebee’s. Gotta have me some quesadilla burgers. I also love BJ’s Brewhouse and Bob Evans. 3. What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? wings. Pizza. 4. What are your pizza toppings of choice? cheese, pepperoni, and hot sauce. Cheese. 5.What do you like to put on your toast? butter. Butter for use with fried eggs, grape jelly for scrambled. I don’t eat toast unless it’s with eggs. 6. Any vegetables you don't like? not really. i thoroughly enjoy vegetables. I stopped liking broccoli several years ago.  7. Do you eat seafood? no. Still no. Never will. ***********TECHNOLOGY*************** 1. How many televisions are in your house? three. Four total, three that are hooked up. 2. What color cell phone do you have? black. Grey. 3. How long would it take you to look up who invented the Rubber Band? seconds. the interwebs are cool like that. A really long time because I don’t feel like it. 4. Have any idea how many megahertz your computer has? no. i'm sure dave could tell me but i don't know. No. But I’m pretty sure they run in gigahertz now. ***************BIOLOGY****************** 1. Are you right-handed or left-handed? left. Lefty. Hail Satan. 2. Have you ever had anything removed from your body? tonsils. Tonsils and gallbladder. 3. What is the last heavy item you lifted? maranda. Marshall. 4. Have you ever been knocked unconscious? i had a concussion when i was five. I don’t remember the fall that caused the concussion knocking me unconscious. I just remember my babysitter yelling at me for trying to take a nap because I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep. ************BULLCRAPOLOGY************** 1. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die? no. Meh. Idk. 2. If you could change your name, what would you change it to? no idea. I never really had a new name in mind but I’ve always hated mine. 3. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? hell yeah i love hot sauce. I’d do it for free but I also wouldn’t turn down a thousand bucks. ************DUMBOLOGY****************** 1. How many pairs of flip flops do you own? six-ish. At least ten. And I only ever wear the red or black ones. 2. Last time you had a run-in with the cops? my fucking birthday. A few years ago I got a ticket for “running a red light”. I maintain that it didn’t turn yellow until I was at the line and there’s no way I could’ve stopped in time. But I paid my $112 and got on with my life. 3. Last person you talked to? chele & megan. In person, Sue at work. Online/texting, Amanda. 4. Last person you hugged? dave. Austen. **************FAVORITOLOGY**************** 1. Season? fall. That will always stay the same. 2. Holiday? fourth of july & new year's. Fourth of July and Halloween. I have no idea what I ever liked about New Year’s. 3. Day of the week? saturday. Thursday & Sunday. 4. Month? october. Don’t really have one, as long as it isn’t snowing. ***********CURRENTOLOGY***************** 1. Missing someone? gary. Dave, my family, my friends. 2. Mood? content, but tired. Pissed about being sick, tired AF, really not wanting to go to work tomorrow. 3. What are you listening to? that 70s show. Literally just the sound of my furnace and laptop. 4. Watching? same. Nothing. ***************RANDOMOLOGY***************** 1. First place you went this morning? pee. I haven’t gone anywhere. It was great. 2. What's the last movie you saw? idk. Die Hard. 3. Do you smile often? yep. Ehh kinda. I mean I like to laugh but I’m not really a happy person. ***************OTHER-OLOGY***************** 1. Do you always answer your phone? rarely. Never unless I’m expecting a specific call. And even then there’s like a 65% chance that I fell asleep and couldn’t answer anyway. 2. Its four in the morning and you get a text message, who is it? could be anyone. Probably Dave. He’s always up then, whether it be just getting up to get ready for work or almost done with the night shift. 3. If you could change your eye color what would it be? i wouldn't. well maybe i'd make them more green than hazel but i like them this way. I like my eyes. And they ARE more green now. 4. Do you prefer cold or hot? warm. Tepid. 5. Whats your favorite gossip magazine? cosmo isn't really a gossip magazine...it's more for sex tips than anything...and it's the only one i read. I don’t read magazines. 6. Have you ever had a pet fish? no.  Nope, my cats would murder it.

8. What's on your wish list for your birthday? this gorgeous ring from tiffany's (don't get the wrong idea - it's only a hundred bucks), and booze. lots and lots of booze. Probably just money. 9. Can you do push ups? no. Not even the girly ones. 10. Can you do a chin up? ha nope. Not since I was 14 in volleyball conditioning. 11. Does the future make you more nervous or excited? both. Nervous. Everything makes me nervous. 12. Do you have any saved texts? yes. I mean who saves texts anymore? That’s what screenshotting is for. 13. Ever been in a car wreck? no. Not a wreck. I was with my mom when she skimmed the side of a van in a parking lot but it was minor damage and I took out someone’s taillight with my truck once in a different parking lot but it literally cost ten dollars to replace it. 14. Do you have an accent? apparently a "yankee" one. I get real southern when I’m drunk or pissed off. Which is funny because I’m not southern. 15. What is the last song to make you cry? idk. every song makes me cry. i can't keep track. My former answer stands. 16. Plans tonight? just got back from megan's. now i'm going to bed. Tonight just ended. I planned to sleep three hours ago. Now I have to pee and actually sleep.  17. Have you ever felt like you hit rock bottom? yeah. Yes but I probably haven’t. 18. Name 3 things you bought yesterday? nothing. i have no money. I didn’t get them all yesterday, but the last three things I bought were a phone card, Arby’s, and a box of peppermint crunch junior mints. 19. Have you ever been given roses? just for graduation. i hate flowers. Same. 20. Current worry? bills. How the fuck I’m gonna make it to work tomorrow with this illness. And the weather. 21.Current hate? psoriasis. Winter. And my sinuses. 22. Met someone who changed your life? of course. Everyone I’ve met has changed my life, for better or worse, in large ways and small. 23. How will you bring in the New Year? like a drunken idiot, along with my best friends. In bed. Or probably more accurately, on the couch with my netflix and my kitties. 24. What song represents you? all of them. music in general represents me. Still true. But right now I can’t stop listening to Matchbox Twenty’s second album. Rob Thomas is just so freaking talented. 25. Name three people who might complete this? i don't think anyone on here will. erin maybe, if she gets really bored. Nobody because it’s almost ten years old and this is tumblr. 26. Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? no. Probably not. 27. Have you ever been to a concert? many. i've seen eleven shows this year alone. Tons. We go to at least one or two a year. At least. 28. Do you have any tattoos/piercings? ears pierced, one tattoo so far. My ears closed and I’ve added a tattoo.  30. Does anyone love you? hope so. Maybe like two people. 31. Ever had someone sing to you? yeah. Usually Amanda. We serenade each other. 32. When did you last cry? don't know. Christmas day I believe. I was in pain and tired and stressed out and didn’t have time to get ready before going to do festivities.  33. Do you like to cuddle? love it. Ehh. Sometimes. Othertimes I feel like I’m literally suffocating.  34. Have you held hands with anyone today? nooo i didn't get to see him at all :( Um no. We don’t really hold hands. Like almost never. And I haven’t seen him since Wednesday morning, won’t again until January 4th or 5th. 35. What kind of music did you listen to in elementary school? country - i wasn't allowed to listen to anything else. i still snuck in my sister's room at night to watch vh1 though lol Country. And Matchbox Twenty. That was the first non-country album I ever owned. 36. Are most of the friends in your life new or old? new. a couple old. Old. I like the friends I have and don’t need new ones. 37. Do you like pulpy orange juice? i don't like orange juice at all. unless it's got vodka in it. Fuck no. I don’t want shit floating around in my juice. I do, however, now enjoy the occasional glass of OJ. Couldn’t drink it every day but it’s alright. Mostly I require that my beverages contain copious amounts of caffeine. 

[thesixweekseeker]

Kauai: The Garden Isle (North Shore)

(January 2017)

So we left the fabulous South Shore for the North Shore, and when everyone said we would love that area even more … they were right.  It is a completely different vibe up there and beyond chill and laid back (not that Poipu was a raging all-night party, but still).   

For our hotel up there, we chose Hanalei Bay Resort (HBR as the locals call it). It’s a beautiful property and the place to be if you’re a tennis player - I think there were at least 10 different courts on the property.  They have a great pool with a swim up bar (bar only open on weekends) and the coolest part was the hot tub with a sand bottom.  It was a weird funky feeling, and definitely a great idea for an early evening chill session.  For an added bonus, HBR shares the same private beach and epic views as The St. Regis, which is a 10-minute beach path walk away.  See below for the beach views and the view from our brunch there - view alone is worth the brunch price. 

  As much as I loved the HBR property and the proximity to The St. Regis amenities, my only complaint was the rooms. They are definitely very dated and the musty smell does match the décor.  However, once you sit on your patio and look all around you, all of that matters less and less.  The picture below is my completely unfiltered view from our patio there.

Unfortunately the Bali Hai at HBR was still closed, but we heard it was a fantastic restaurant and it’s supposed to open later in 2017. The lounge on the property, Happy Talk Lounge, was good and had a cool bar scene. I also have to give a little shout out to the owner/manager at Happy Talk because he is my hero.  On the night we launched The Six Week (woot woot), it was late and raining and we were just going to quickly grab some dinner at the restaurant.  However, the Grateful Dead (or two of its members) were randomly playing at the lounge that night, so the kitchen was closed off and the place was packed. That was a little pickle since there are ZERO restaurants on the island that deliver food (I was laughed at when I asked the delivery question), we literally had no food in our room and we had no car/available taxis to take us to town. Luckily, the manager prevented a hanger breakdown by offering the band’s remaining food for the night.  That’s right, I was eating the Grateful Dead’s leftovers– no shame in my game.  The best part ... all of that food was surprisingly Six Week approved.  Insert happy dance.

  So let’s back up since I left you hanging in the last blog post.  As I mentioned, I was feeling ultra-confident in my surfing skills down in Poipu, and since the weather was perfect (again) we decided to venture into Hanalei Bay to shred the gnar.  I caught an awesome long wave (first wave of the day) and was feeling so proud until a little punk of a wave came up out of nowhere.  It proceeded to knock me over with my surfboard coming up to say a friendly little hello to my jaw and teeth. I immediately felt the tooth go from full to snaggle and that was it for my surfing that week.  Big fist pump to my friend Mark who hooked me up with Dr. Shawn Murphy on the island and he got my chompers back to where they needed to be (ish).   The Pacific Ocean has now bruised my jaw and ego, and took my first cell phone, but I’m going to win this battle.

Since I wasn’t cleared to surf, I decided to spend a few days on the paddleboard. The Six Week had officially started so I needed to hit my exercise commitments for those days - and what better ab exercise than this!  I found Kayak Hanalei that was located right in town but also right by the Hanalei River – perfect if you don’t have gear and want to take a taxi into town.  Look for Dock Dynasty (clever) and two entertaining young surfers, Reef and Devin, and they will hook you right up.  One day I did the 2-hour paddle down under the Hanalei Bridge to the Hanalei Wildlife Refuge and on day two I added the extra hour trip out to the beach. Both paddles were amazing but if you can do the 3-hour paddle to see the wildlife refuge and the beach, I definitely would.  There were times where I just had to sit down on my board and take it all in.  There weren’t a lot of people on the river, it’s completely still and the scenery is just breathtaking.  

When you get back from paddling, there are a lot of great food truck choices right by Kayak Hanalei.  Since I couldn’t really chew for about 24 hours (scary flashbacks of my mouth surgery creeping up here) I was lucky to stumble upon Wishing Well and their fabulous Acai bowls.  They have been around since 1983 and have the best version that I’ve tasted so far: Acai, bananas, organic almond butter, bee pollen, coconut flakes and chia seeds.  I vote extra almond butter, hold the papaya – but regardless, you’re Six Week approved and feeling fab with their awesome little food truck experience.

Luckily, once I was feeling better, we tackled some chewing-allowed dining options on the island. My three top favorites were Dolphin Sushi, Bar Acuda and Hanalei Bread Co.  By accident, we stumbled upon the best plan for Dolphin Sushi.  They open for dinner at 5:30 and there is/will be a line before then that will make the entire dining room full right away.  So, if you get hangry and impatient like your Seeker does, beat the system and go to the bar around 4:30.  There is a very high energy bartender who will guide you with what to eat and drink, so grab some apps and cocktails and put your dinner order in for 5:30pm sharp.  You will avoid the mass rush order and everyone is jelly when yours comes out first – winning.

We were told by practically everyone we asked (locals, tourists and people back home) that Bar Acuda was the best restaurant on the island.  Usually with all of the hype I get disappointed, but I will agree with them, best on the island.  Everything we had was fantastic (Beef skewers, Scallops, Octopus, Endive Salad, Ahi, olives – legit all fantastic) and the service was extremely fast.  No Hawaiian time there.  One of my favorite things was the North Shore Honeycomb (goat cheese, honeycomb and apple).  They have this listed as an app, but we got it as a dessert and I would recommend saving it for the end.  It was super rich, Six Week approved (ish) and the perfect way to finish our last meal on the island.

Well…not quite our last meal.  It turns out we made another taxi friend on the island, Kohlohe from Sue’s Taxi, and he was kind enough to drive us back into Hanalei from Princeville on the morning of our flight.  We needed to hit up our favorite local spot, Hanalei Bread Co, for one last breakfast meal (because the four meals we had there prior apparently weren’t enough). Since avocados are in season (and are about 3x the size) and their bread is fresh and phenomenal, we again went with the avocado toast + poached egg.  I promise, that’s worth the 20-minute detour.  

They also introduced us to Laird’s Superfood Creamer which is a quick/healthy add to your coffee without the GMOs, additives, and all of the other usual culprits.  It adds a fabulous sweet taste from the coconut oil, and since I’m fully on the BulletProof coffee train, this gave me my fix.  For all of my Six Weekers who travel and love their caffeine, I would highly recommend buying a pack.  Don’t let yourself fall victim to the hotel or airport packets of creamer – you deserve more.

After we had our last meal, we made our way back to Lihue Airport to wrap up an amazing 10 days in Kauai.  Though I HATED to leave, Maui has been a pretty stellar consolation prize so far. I fully plan to go back to Kauai, buy a tiny house, and spend at least a significant chunk of my time living in Hanalei Bay.  But as we know, my plans change on the daily and this little global road trip of mine has just begun….

If you have any questions on this blog and/or The Six week, please email me at: susie@thesixweek.com.

Mahalo