#maybe i will draw/write car sex about this i dont know

[skitskatdacat63]

It's just still brainrotting me so badly, LIKE WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?!?!?!?!

[hollyhomburg]

Reasons Wretched and Divine (Pt. 7)

(Hybrid au) (YoonMinJoon x Reader) (Mafia au) 

Summary: After years of abuse, you’ve all finally found each other. But for one of you- the fear still lingers, hidden in the shadows. Yoongi doesn’t want much, just a few more weeks, but he only has until the end of the summer. 

Parings: Snake hybrid! Yoongi x Dog hybrid! Jimin x Dog hybrid! Namjoon x Pregnant! Reader, Platonic Vmin, allusions to 2seok, 

Genre: Hybrid au, Polyamory au, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Pregnancy, Mafia au

Tags:  Domestic abuse, references to sexual abuse- and choosing to have sex even though you’ve been through sa, physical abuse, polyamory negotiations, Post-traumatic stress disorder, mute characters, brief gore at the end, pregnant m/c, frottage, marking kink, fingering, oral f. receiving, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, implied death but dont worry I do not write MCD!!!!

A/n: just for posterity's sake! i was drunk when i posted this! enjoy! full gangbang comes in (y/n) next chapter! (oh god im going to hell).

W/c: 10.5k

Song Rec: Like Real People do ~ Hozier

~ Series Masterlist ~

2 Years Earlier

-  If Jeon Jungkook where so esoterically inclined, he would write a book on how he had become the most dangerous man in the underworld. It would be a short book though; because Jungkook had only 2 rules for himself. The first was to always get up after he’d been hit during a fight (even if it took him a second) and the second was to know when to mind his own business. 

- Jungkook was always able to get up after being hit, Even when he’d been a street kid, with not a penny to his name and a whole lot of anger in his mouth. ready to spit vitriol at anyone who would pause and listen. He’d always been able to get up. The pain giving him a kind of sick clarity that he eventually sought out instead of tried to escape. Jungkook could never think as clearly as he did during a fight; or when he was in pain. And that was probably because of his father. 

- But whatever. That man was 6 feet under, (his mother on the other hand- no- that bitch certainly had more than one dept to pay still). He didn’t have a lot of time or energy to put into dealing with that particular trauma (why he honestly felt like sometimes- he liked being hit). Most of his energy went into staying alive. Even now- when living and surviving teetered on the same edge. Jungkook had more pressing matters to tend to than dealing with his own fragile mind. 

- The way he would get up and hop around for a second to soak in the clarity after being hit during a scuffle was one of the reasons why he’d been given his street name: The Playboy Bunny; further set in stone with his tattoo of the same moniker under his left eye. A cheekbone he’d tap and say “you want to hit me? why don’t you try your luck and see how well it turns out for you.” 

- He was doing reconnaissance, Sneaking around the back alley with his hood up and his glasses on- disguising his black eye that was sure to get more than a few looks from passers-by. The ears of the playboy bunny tattoo peeking out over the top of his mask. 

- He keeps his eyes on the crowd waiting for some sort of handoff- to see anything at all. But he’d lost his target through the crowd and has no drive to find them in the dizzying rush of people and umbrellas. Not yet. Not when the hum of addiction lurks in his veins. 

- Jungkook pauses lighting a cigarette, when a commotion to the side hidden around a corner- blurs his concentration. The world snapping back into focus when he sinks his fingernails into his palm. Terse voices. A couple fighting in the alleyway perpendicular to his. 

- Minding his own business was a particular skill of his- it took one kind of person to know when to step in, and another to know which problems weren't worth the headache. And unless it involved the acquisition money or some step therein, it wasn’t a problem worth getting into in Jungkook’s opinion.

- But Jungkook can’t stop his ears from hearing snippets of conversation, a low and angry male voice. The sound of a smack. “You just had to embarrass me like that, didn’t you? First, you come out dressed like a slob and then you act like a fucking whore- I swear if I see you give eyes to another man this week I'll beat you five ways to Sunday”

- The sound of a soft female voice, so quiet- almost indistinguishable from the pouring rain, “I wasn’t-” another smack.

- Jungkook has been hit so many times he knows the sound of it, the ragged gasp the woman lets out, also quite- like even the pain takes up too much space. 

- His body starts to move before his mind thinks it through as he gives up position in favor of investigating the noise. There he sees it, ivy growing up the wall next to the back exit of some restaurant. A woman, small crouching in front of a grotesque man. A baggy coat buttoned tight around her small form. hair swept back in a tight bun. Red lipstick smudged. Though you check your hands and think its blood for a moment before you remember you’re wearing it. 

- Jungkook waits for a moment before he watches you stand on shaky legs. you get up. 

- The rest of the underworld might be old grudges and blood feuds but Jungkook was only here to be a businessman. He didn’t have time for ego and arrogance, let alone time for altruism... 

- Usually. 

- He looks on for a moment, too sluggish without nicotine, but Jungkook’s lingering stare almost seems to spur the man on. He’s wearing a jacket with a military patch, a badge; some sort of congratulation for service done no doubt. and Jungkook feels his distaste for the man deepen. 

- “What you looking at punk?” he slurs. Stalking forward as if to shove Jungkook. He almost wants to tut- that would be an expensive action. Jungkook wonders if the man is maybe high or drunk or both. He’s has had his fair share of experience with junkies and he knows one when he sees one. 

- “Nothing, just a pig beating his girlfriend.” The man settles for shoving Jungkook back. And Jungkook lets him. You don’t look up, don’t do anything but lean to the side, like the brick wall is the only thing keeping you up. Jungkook sees the back of your hand, black and blue, the other bruises on your neck. You only make eye contact with him once. Just slightly. Barely in passing.  

- You look like Jungkook used to look. He remembers in the savage bite of an open-handed slap- the fear he sees in your eyes. He looks and looks. And it aches so viscerally as Jungkook watches you go, your hurt echoes through him. You look beaten down and broken like Jungkook used too; before he’d decided he was done taking punches from people who were supposed to love him- Were supposed to care. 

- (Before he realized life wasn't supposed to hurt) 

- He’s never been one to feel things for other people, the empathy sparing him through most of the suffering he’s seen. It’s not that he’s unfeeling; it’s just that Jungkook’s life has forced him to feel concerned only for himself and no one else. His own survival is his first priority; Not others. 

- He watches you walk away, And you don’t look back at him. Rushing to keep up with your husband's steps. He waits until you disappear into the crowd before he lifts his phone to his ear and makes a call. “Hey, I need you to flag all of the cars that leave the parking lot, they’re just a couple, should be coming to you soon.”

- Jeon Jungkook had become the most powerful man in the underworld because of two reasons; by being able to take punches, and by knowing when to mind his own business. 

- But For this, Jungkook thinks he can make an exception.

- (You won't remember meeting Jeon Jungkook, but Jungkook will always remember you).

~.~

Now

-It comes as no surprise that your little speech fades after a few days and the rest of the hybrids quick to return to treating Yoongi with a mix of disdain and fear. Though mostly- this seems to be caused by Minhyung's group and the other canine hybrids. Namjoon hears them whispering about ‘favoritism’ before they catch on that he’s listening in. And in the days following your impromptu departure from the farm, you find people quiet even further whenever Yoongi's brought up. Staring when Yoongi comes close, afraid to interact with him.

- Even Jimin is greeted mostly with silence from all but a few. The bunny hybrids don’t act so skittish anymore, and the cat hybrids could care less used to sticking to their own group. Taehyung seems to have encouraged the other bear hybrids to make an actual effort and they at least say hello now. It’s better than the derisive comments of the dog hybrids, or the snooty noses stuck high in the air of the dear hybrids and other exotic breeds. 

- They know Jimin is close to Yoongi and Namjoon, and now he feels even more like an outsider that before (somehow it doesn't matter as much as before). The only ones who don’t act overtly different are the new hybrids; Hoseok and the small lion hybrid. but They were never around to learn how to hate Yoongi in the first place.

- it's a little cute- the way that Hoseok will always shout Yoongi's name in greeting (though you're unsure if that's just his personality now that he's started to grow into himself). Hoseok is unbothered by Yoongi's reaction; to shy away from anything that will draw more attention to himself. But Hoseok's smile is so bright and elastic that even he has a hard time ignoring the otter hybrid. You hope there will be a friendship there eventually, that yoongi will open up to more than just your group. 

- The little lion kit is a new addition too, she's not the only young feline hybrid you have at the farm but she is the friendliest. She gets pretty close to the other cats that work in the kitchen almost instantly. Probably on account of her young age (she's barely 7) and the eldest cat hybrid seems to be particularly fond of the little one.

- She's curious and kind to Yoongi too- excitedly running up to him more than once to show him a little rock or some flower she found- and yoongi will marvel and nod, and if Jimin is near- he'll lean close and tell her how pretty it is. 

- She doesn't seem at all deterred by Yoongi's lack of voice. one day she even sees Jimin, her ears perking up excitedly, tail swishing. "Hello Yoonies voice!" it's a little cute- even if it does make yoongi splutter a little. But she's not exactly wrong; Jimin does talk for yoongi more these days. 

- She Always comes bounding up to you and giggling happily to be picked up. Her little legs stretching around your waist, small bottom sat atop your baby bump. Making you get the kind of look that makes Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin sigh and look impossibly fond. They can only imagine what you’re going to be like once your little one is born. Your due date is barely 2 months away.

- In truth- you’re starting to get a little bit big. You say it one morning with Namjoon. After he asks you why you’re looking into the mirror with such a displeased expression. The sound of your terse voices alerts Yoongi and he comes to the door to your bedroom to witness your spat. Making a flippant hand movement at Namjoon to back off. Namjoon could smell your distress on you when you looked in the mirror, his voice tense but breaking. “Baby just tell me, why you think you’re not beautiful like that? let me understand. Cuz to me- you look more irresistible every day.”

- It’s not that you exactly wanted him to agree with you that you were nearing the size of a whale- but this doesn’t help at all either. His unending insistence- doesn’t he see? when he looks in the mirror doesn’t he see what you do? His instance that everything is alright doesn't help when you’re feeling this self-conscious.

- Yoongi helps you, fiddling with Namjoon’s closet for a second before he pulls out an extra-large white shirt of his and helps you into it- tying it loosely over your baby bump so that it flatters your waist a little more. The attention that Yoongi shows you clearly making you flustered. Then he drags you to the mirror, tugging your hair out of its bun, the tension going out of your shoulders.

- Yoongi doesn’t know it, but Namjoon does. Your late husband used to always be so particular about your hair, yanking on it harshly if it was left down. and An easy way to avoid him yanking on it was to leave it up. And sometimes you still pull it up convinced it’s safer even though he’s dead and gone. It’s scary how simple it is- but the second your hair comes down your whole body relaxes.

- All the while Namjoon watches from your bed. And you take in yourself, the baby hairs free-floating against your forehead; Yoongi curls one gently around his finger and then lets it go. You take in the way that the fabric hangs now, making you look a little more proportional, Yoongi gives you a satisfied smile behind your back and you have to sigh and admit it. “Okay- okay- I’ll give you this- I’m not a whale”

- “And even if you where you’d be a pretty whale.” Yoongi has the good sense to hurl a pillow in Namjoon’s direction, but it makes you laugh all the same- the heaviness in your chest abated a little. Your sleeve brushing Yoongi’s as you head downstairs, Namjoon trailing behind.

- The beach trip was a nice distraction from chores but the real work comes crashing down on them the next few days. Your little group feels closer than ever, you rarely part from any of them for long and their intention, their little acts of care never fail to make you feel flustered and taken care of.

- Jimin always holds out a hand for you to take when you’re stepping over uneven ground, Yoongi makes a startled noise whenever you so much as get close to a hose that might trip you, always gesturing for you to pause and take a break whenever you’re working in the garden. Namjoon too, always running back and forth from whatever project he’s working on to check on you and make sure you have water or food.

- At night, Namjoon takes your stretch mark cream from you, rubbing down your baby bump and your hips, the little lines of lighter skin on your waist get little kisses from him.  

- Even if you want just a snack, Namjoon and Yoongi will bring you a full meal- convinced that you need to be eating more than you are. At dinner Yoongi fills up your plate- piling it high with more food then you could fit in your already crowded tummy. And he always eyes you suspiciously when you can’t finish the full plate. Namjoon too will level you with a look- asking if you really are full. 

- Since your pregnancy has progressed, you’ve become a little moodier, and a little hornier whenever way the wind blows. And Namjoon doesn’t help that much at all- and by that you mean, he makes it worse. When he comes out of the field with his shirt off and tucked into his shorts all of his thickness, his muscles that make you ravenous. 

- During lunch one day he drags you away to a forgotten tool shed, though it would be easier just to go up the hill to your bedroom- you feel like teenagers sneaking around like this. 

- Namjoon presses into you as he hits the latch on the door, muffling your giggles with kisses as you hide from the hybrids outside, voices that you can dimly hear, unable to pick out any one particular yet- but you know they're there. 

- You and Namjoon might bicker like an old married couple. But you also act like teenagers gooey and giggly and so so so in love. “Do you think that they can hear you like this? Or smell you, my love?” Namjoon is always quick to tell you how delectable you smell when you’re horny. His more sensitive nose-picking it up the second you feel a slickening between your thighs.

- You’re shaky when you respond. “I don’t know, maybe?” Namjoon always has this passionate intense air about him. He’s slightly possessive- but you’d never fault him for that not when it’s all about protecting and providing for you. Not when he always puts your pleasure first (you feel like you may have turned into a slight pillow princess with him). 

- Namjoon heaves you up onto the edge of a bench and then gets on his knees. Gently lifting your leg over his shoulder. He’s always mindful of how much you can move in your swollen state. He checks to make sure he’s not bending your hips in an uncomfortable way. 

- You put your hands back on the dusty bench to stabilize yourself as you lie back, Namjoon wastes no time in pressing his face close to your cunt and inhaling, His nose prodding at the thin fabric of your underwear. One of his ears caught on the hem of your dress. His fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs- so full and healthy it makes him hard in his pants. 

- He’s slow with the appreciation of your thighs and hips. Hands gripping and moving on to touch and feel like you have all the time in the world. But you hear voices outside the tool shed you’ve commandeered and you could just slip out and go back up to your house- but somehow you like this better. The thought of being discovered stirring an unsure heat in your stomach. 

- You can hear Taehyung's voice, and then- like a shock through your core- you hear Jimin’s. Namjoon can feel your jolt. And you realize- his sensitive ears must have known who it was before your own human ones did. He chuckles- teasing his fingers along the hem of your underwear, almost daring to slip inside.

- You almost whine when you think about what you’re being denied- the harsh pull of his fingers that you’re so addicted too, how thick his fingers and knuckles feel (almost as nice as his cock) when they pull out and push in.

- Yoongi and Namjoon have always had the most lovely hands, it’s strange that when Namjoon touches you- you think about Yoongi’s hands. The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. "you're thinking about them aren't you," The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. Because yeah; Yoongi and Jimin are apart of Namjoon’s pack too, and bonding and group sex are kind of the same thing to hybrids. You’d found that out the hard way when you’d found a group of cat hybrids all tangled together in the grass the other day.

- Namjoon is always so gentle with you because of your condition, but you find your hips jerking with want. His fingers still when he feels the way your wetness has spilled out the sides. His thumb pressed over your clit teasingly. “smell so good when you're like this So wet my love, are you thinking about them finding you like this?” 

- “Y-yes” you confess, and Namjoon growls, nipping at you through the fabric, the feel of his teeth brushing you, over the sensitive skin. The fabric cushioning the feeling, makes you almost gush, and you know you’ll be shakily legged by the time he lets you get down. And that he won’t let you get away from him until he’s taken care of you in this way, sated you in every sense of the word. 

- But he can also tell how shy you are, the heat under your skin at the thought of being discovered. always unsure how much of your dirty talk is a real want and not just something you like in theory. Namjoon knows the idea of sharing you with the others might seem like the most natural and hottest thing; to love you alongside them. but to you- a human, hybrid sex and hybrid bedroom dynamics aren't as given. 

- So he leans close, sliding your underwear down your legs slowly, letting you feel the heat of his palms on your skin. You're getting worked up a little too quickly, your heaving breaths needy. God damn pregnancy hormones you'd say if you could think beyond the plush feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to your clit. “Gotta clean you up for them, if they smelled you like this- then they’d know wouldn’t they?” 

- You prove Namjoons initial assumption wrong. “What if I-” you whisper- gasping quietly as Namjoon drags the fabric to the side and glides a delicate lick over your folds. “What if I want them to know?” the pleasure thrumming through your body as Namjoon licks up your slit. Namjoon stills, ears perked, eyes flashing in the half-light. The snarl against your cunt loud and echoic.

- The voices outside fall silent and Namjoon doesn't stop his ravenous licking no matter if you have to bite your lip to keep your noises in. One of your hands scrambling to pull at his hair and find something to grip onto and anchor yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. Jimin is the first one to puncture the silence, “What was that?” 

- Then comes Seokjin's voice “all of you- move along- whoever it is they probably don’t want the three of you listening in like a bunch of horn dogs” which is basically a confirmation that they were listening in, and that Yoongi was there too. 

- When you finally exit the toolshed with weak legs, sure you’re going to have to at least got change your underwear. You find a bleary-eyed Seokjin a few dozen feet away, obviously upwind of the toolshed. he levels Namjoon with a tired expression. “You both have dirt on your knees” Namjoon has the good sense to look shy at that. You hastily brush off the spots on his, and he on yours.

- If Jimin and Yoongi smell anything on you later- they don’t say anything and the idea that they might make you feel hot all over whenever they lean in too close. You think you see a blush on Yoongi’s face more than once, and maybe see him adjust his pants out of the corner of your eye, but Jimin seems blissfully unaware.

- You have a check-up at the doctor’s office in the coming days. And although only Namjoon is allowed in the room with you (they have a two-person maximum because the ultrasound room is tiny), Yoongi and Jimin also accompany you. Namjoon comes bounding out after, waving the picture and smiling so so wide, both Yoongi and jimin leaning in close to get a better look- they’re so enamored with the little photo. And when you get home- Namjoon shows anyone that asks how the check-up went, eventually hanging it on one of the two fridges in the kitchen.

- Jimin is the only one who seems to notice the jealous looks- because you went out for ice-cream after and come home with them still partially melting (you’d had another craving- french-fries dunked in ice cream of all things). One of the other hybrids having heard Jimin talk to Tae about the beach trip too. They come to you at the end of the day, 2 bunnies, a cat, a fox and one of the bears- a mish moshed group of hybrids; petitioning you to start the beach trips for everyone.

- You can only fit so many people into the back of your truck so you pick a day and start a raffle for spots. Jimin throws his name into the hat just in case but to his surprise, Yoongi doesn’t. No matter how much Jimin bugs him too; He won’t agree to accompany Jimin to the beach again. Shaking his head with a roll of his eyes back tipped back against the grass, his sunhat crumpled. Offering up a few sweet tomatoes to soothe Jimin’s sour nerves. 

- The peace lasts for a couple of days before they’re right back to treating Yoongi like shit and for some reason, it pisses Jimin off more. No matter how many times he’s heard Namjoon asks Yoongi to please tell him when anything happens. The snake hybrid seems unable to fight back.

- Jimin asks one of the hybrids why she won’t look at Yoongi (after the snake has already gone up the hill to retrieve another dish for dinner) and beyond a startled look, she just says “none of us can smell him” she throws a stack of paper towels down onto the table angrily. The deer hybrid across from them stumbling with their silver wear But she doesn’t need to re-iterate herself. Jimin understands- it’s hard to trust someone who can lie to your face- and in the world of hybrids where emotions can be decreed from a simple sniff, Jimin can’t say he doesn’t see where they’re coming from.

- Doesn’t excuse their behavior, however. After all- Jimin can smell Yoongi’s emotions through his scent and he didn't realize that was something strange until now. To Jimin, Yoongi’s scent is soft and sweet- something gummy and soft like a marshmallow. But that’s probably because he spends so much time with the hybrid. The others only spend so much time around him and are unused to his scent. And the fact that he never talks and never tries to socialize doesn’t help.

- Jimin can’t imagine not wanting to smell more of it- not leaning in whenever the other hybrid passes. Jimin wants to bury his face in Yoongi’s neck and rub his cheek all over it. The same way that Namjoon does to him in the morning if he shows up before he’s changed from his pajamas. And he knows he smells soft like sleep- an alluring smell to the older alpha when he comes down the stairs, ears straight up eyes wide as he takes in all of Jimin's vulnerability.

- and it might have to do with what Taehyung had said- that alphas eat up that sort of thing. 

- Namjoon smells good too, his scent all soft mornings and sleepy walks, the older hybrid large and so pliant in his sleepiness, eyes swollen and face puffy as he hides in Jimin’s shoulder. Sending his pine scent all over so that it sticks to jimin no matter where he is. So that jimin will smell like Namjoon all day. 

- One of the cat hybrids at the sink rolls her eyes. But when you come down the stairs smelling much the same. You touch his arm so softly in passing, like you can’t believe you’re allowed. And Jimin’s senses are a dizzying blur of cream, peaches, pine, and marshmallow. 

- when he goes back to the barns, hazy at being scented by Namjoon so thoroughly. Taehyung levels him with a funny look and a chuckle. "you're more devious than anyone gives you credit for" thought Taehyung means it good-naturedly- it's good to have a friend to ask how to go about flirting with. the other hybrids gathered on the couch in front of the tv; some cartoon playing- pretend like they're not listening in. 

- "How do you know so much when you don't have a pack of your own Tae?" he asks over breakfast, the two of them clutching breakfast burritos on their way to check Tae's bees. Tae doesn't meet Jimin's eyes "you're just lucky- most hybrids dont find a pack so easily Jimin" his words aren’t jealous- only a little patronizing. And Jimin accepts it because he knows he has a lot to learn.

- Taehyung is right- out of all of the hybrids at the farm, there are only a few who have paired up or even made stronger groups or multi-person packs. the bunnies and the cats don't form set generally- though there are a few pairs and more than a few throuples.

- Jimin as caught Yeonjun making out with a tabby more than once- has learned to avoid certain sections of the woods all together because everyone knows that's where the bunny hybrids like to go in the afternoons. The canine hybrids are the only ones who have packs, though there are more than half a dozen loners like jimin and namjoon.

- It's hard for Jimin to cohabitate with them even though there are other larger predators and more than a few prey hybrids living in Jimin's barn. he hadn’t really realized until taehyung pointed it out that each different pack occupied one corner of the punk room. More than once- the room in the barns has felt hostile if only for the packs that have claimed either corner of the bunkroom. it's usual to wake up and find more than one of the pups cuddling with another in one single bed. 

- Having reciprocated love in his pack shouldn't feel like an impossibility to Jimin. But still, when Yoongi steps close- an inch too far away, his fingertips barely brushing- Jimin just- yearns. It’s a soft sort of yearning, the kind that has jimin jumping up whenever Yoongi needs something. Has him settling a think knit blanket over Yoongi’s nobly knees during movie nights, and sticking his own feet underneath the edge of the blanket. Feet Pressed to the clothed line of his calf. Maybe nothing will ever come of it, But Jimin yearns with everything he’s got regardless.

- In the late hours of the night, when Jimin lies awake thinking about the three of you. An instinct welling inside of him that says he should walk up the hill and fall asleep on your couch just to be closer to you three (the pack instinct- Taehyung calls it, looking a little bit sad himself when jimin asks him, the other hybrid moving away before jimin can ask exactly what that means) Jimin wonders if his feelings will ever be reciprocated.

- But love is a strange thing, it’s not just about saying it with kisses or touches- though Jimin wants them too. There is love in the small things, in building something together so that’s what Jimin tries to do. Every day- he takes to gardening with a new vigor. Shouting in joy when you harvest some of the tomatoes- filling up a whole gallon bucket with the amount that have ripened over the last week. Your peppers and cucumbers are beginning to produce more too.

- Jimin and Yoongi run to Namjoon just to give him a handful. The alpha gives each of them a sweet nuzzle in thanks, even if Yoongi chirps and moves back after a moment. A flush high on his cheek. Namjoon looking up at Yoongi from where he’s stopped- cheek on the elder's shoulder. The snake relaxing after a moment. 

- You spend the rest of the day showing Jimin and Yoongi how to prepare the tomatoes to make a sauce, roasting them on low heat. Cutting garlic so so carefully, and whenever Jimin looks across the prep table- Yoongi’s gaze darts away. halfway through- yoongi stoops down, sticking his socked feet into jimin’s lap, and it feels so nice, to have their weight there. 

- You go over to Yoongi at one point, and he tips his head back to look up at you. The back of his head is at the right height to lye up against your baby bump. And Jimin watches, as you slowly, so slowly, brush the hair out of his eyes and away from his forehead. Yoongi’s eyes flutter closed and he tips his face into your hand. Letting out a low happy grumble when you take his action as positive reinforcement, and drag your nails over his scalp. In Jimin’s lap, Yoongi’s toes curl. 

- It feels strange- and Jimin can’t quite put his finger on it- but it almost feels like Yoongi is letting you all touch him more than ever. Suddenly okay with touches- as long as it’s in a more private setting. Jimin can’t say he’s unhappy about it. Maybe one-day yoongi will even let Jimin scent mark him. 

- Jimin smiles at Yoongi’s happy little snake grumbles. And keeps chopping his garlic. Is happy to receive the same kind of scratch from you a few minutes later. Though he might abandon his chopping in favor of rubbing his face all over your stomach when the instinct strikes him. Jimin unintentionally lets out a growl when you start to move away. Slapping a hand over his mouth and apologizing, no matter how you and Yoongi laugh.

- Still, despite the happiness, you have in your kitchen, in your house, whenever you’re around each other. The rest of the world is not so kind.

- An adoption day comes at arguably the worst and best time. There is still a fair amount of friction between your group and the rest of the hybrids. And a few outsiders at the farm only make it worse. Though Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon aren’t the only hybrids who wear red stickers to indicate that they are not available for adoption.

- Hoseok surprisingly- grabs a yellow sticker. And the three of your hybrids watch- as Seokjin hovers around him- a red sticker on his own lapel- wary of all and anyone who interacts with the otter hybrid. His glares putting off all but the most attentive patrons. That's where it starts.

- Jimin is unfortunately caught in the middle when seokjin confronts hoseok. off to help the three of them bring down 3 trays of cut watermelon for the hybrids and the patrons. The dinner tables have been set out on the side of the field piled high with Hors d'oeuvre. You’re there with Namjoon greeting the humans. Games are set out too- for the hybrids and humans to play. 

- it’s no secret that they’ve gotten close, and jimin had assumed they’d talked about it- but apparently not. Seokjin is so angry he’s nearly crying. “why- hoseok- why do you want to leave the farm?” Hoseok’s little otter ears are tight against his scalp. “I just- I didn’t want to assume?”

- “Oh- so you’d rather just- throw away everything that we’re trying- all of this- you don’t you dont want to stay do you-” Jimin has never seen seokjin looking so lost, and he knows enough to guess that Seokjin’s anger is at least in part to due to some trauma (later- Jimin will find out that Seokjin’s mother left him with his last owner- an abusive man- to save herself).  

- Jimin knows enough to get in between them, telling them to calm down and spend a minute away from each other. Jimin ends up with Hoseok- “it’s hard Jimin- how do you, how do you have so much sureness with Y/n? with Namjoon and yoongi too? How do you look at them and trust that you should stay?” Hoseok's eyes remain on Jimin's red tag. 

- Jimin sighs, thinking it through, “do you look at Seokjin and know he cares about you? like- do you know it in your bones?” Hoseok bites his lower lip, “yes- but-” 

- “Then you should stay Hoseok,” Jimin walks Hoseok up to the main house where the stickers sit on the prep table. Changing out his yellow one for a red one. And when they head off back down the hill, Seokjin is waiting on the path with Yoongi, apologizing and dragging Hoseok away to the barns where Seokjin’s own private room is. Hoseok goes willingly, smiling up at the older hybrid. His narrow shoulders cuddled under one of Seokjin's wide ones. 

- jimin has to admit, an otter and an alpaca are a weird combination for a hybrid pack (But no stranger than a pair of puppies and a snake). His thoughts drift towards Taehyung- and Jimin hopes that his friend won't end up alone. it must not be easy- to see all of you pair off like this. 

- in some ways, that adoption day is full of just as much bullshit as they usually are. there are always people who dont understand the effort it takes to take care of a hybrid- they aren't just like any ordinary pet. it's easy to spot the ones that view them as pets- and less like people. You get a few rich people looking to adopt a companion as always. 

- A substantial group of families also look to adopt similarly aged companions for their single children. And you agree to more than one possible test weekend. You’re always so particular about letting the children go, so wary and so careful in the way you let them interact with the families.

- Though they don’t have parents here- there are more than a few good role models and parental figures. More than one child chooses a red tag for themselves. And they always know have a right to it- no matter how young they are. You make it clear to the group of them; If they don’t want to be adopted they don’t have to be. 

- You even get one couple- the woman withdrawn and sad, and a slightly jealous look at your own pregnant stomach says more than any words could. It’s pretty common for women who can’t have children to adopt hybrid children. and though some of it doesn't sit right with you, You aren’t one to judge. 

- Jimin spends most of the adoption day helping you balance the need for food and for games. running back and forth to the house to help. Though there is a little work that needs to be done here and there just to keep the farm running as usual. grey storm clouds roll in halfway through the day, puncturing the blue sky- foretelling scattered showers and storms. and jimin hopes it will cut the adoption day short so that you can return to your routines. 

- Jimin is just helping Yoongi putting away a broken badminton net When it happens- Jimin isn’t certain why it does. Only that he hears the words outside the shed after Yoongi's just excited to grab the broken rackets (Namjoon isn't the only clumsy hybrid you have at the farm). 

- “oh sorry- ew gross,” a shrill female voice says, and then he rounds the corner and sees yoongi picking himself up from the dirt- a rich lady and her peacock hybrid looking down at him like he’s the dirt beneath his shoes. The peacock hybrid has Yoongi’s sun hat in his hands and there is another hybrid- a wolf hybrid from the farm with a green sticker on his shirt, who growls down at yoongi.

- His shoulders shake too the way they do when he’s been touched and he doesn’t want to be. Jimin has seen you brush your fingers over the back of Yoongi’s hand, has even felt the coolness of the snake hybrid through the fabric when the elder grabbed his sleeve. Has touched him even more intimately as of late. But he knows that Yoongi can’t tolerate being touched by people he doesn’t trust- doesn’t want to touch him. basically, anyone, that's, not you, Namjoon, or Jimin himself. 

- “Hey- what the fuck!” Jimin spits, grabbing the sunhat out of the hybrid's hand with a growl, his ears flat against his head. If Jimin had elongated canines like Namjoon they would be barred in anger as he shoves the larger hybrid back. Yoongi shrinks impossibly smaller behind him.

- Jimin is hot and itchy from the heat and the humidity, and he really just wants to shower and cool off. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with entitled people today. And more importantly- no one touches Yoongi on Jimin’s watch.

- The hybrid looks surprised to be talked to in that way, he’s nearly a head taller than Jimin let alone the slightly taller feathers that poke out of the top of his head that give him the appearance of several more inches- but Jimin’s intimidating enough with his set expression to send the hybrid huffing away. Feathers fluffed.

- The peacock's iridescent feathers stand up on end as he grabs the hand of his human owner, her diamond tennis bracelet glittering in the sunlight. “This was getting boring anyway. Sorry” he tosses over his shoulder at the canine hybrid, who looks so disappointed his ears pinned back against his head. They only give him that- barely a look, before they’re heading off down the hill in the direction of the line of cars parked on the grass.

- The wolf hybrid deflates audibly- watching the woman and the other hybrid disappear down the hill. promises of home and family disappearing in a moment, but Jimin has to think- if they’d be discouraged so easily- were they really worth it? The wolf hybrid doesn't seem to think so- Turning his angry tear-filled eyes on Jimin. 

- But Jimin can see the hate in his eyes and knows not to mistake the tears for only sadness. “You both ruin everything” he growls out- before they too run back towards the barns- no doubt to tell the others how Yoongi had sabotaged their adoption. Even though that was far from the truth. in all honestly- yoongi just bumped into the lady- or more probably- the lady bumped into him when he was on his way out of the shed.

- Jimin holds out his sunhat to Yoongi, who takes it from Jimin carefully, Jimin doesn’t linger on the fact that his hand still shakes. Jimin’s hand lingers somewhere close enough where Yoongi could touch it could reach out if he wants too. If he wants to get that kind of comfort from Jimin's touch- then Jimin will willingly give it. 

- a faint flush coats the elder's cheeks. Oh no- he must be overheating then, Jimin feels a rush of concern. He knows what you would do, hover your hand close enough to Yoongi’s forehead, usher him upstairs for a break in the air conditioning, and a glass of icy lemonade.

- All they can hear is the shouts of laughter at the games the others play in the fields, “I understand why you don’t want to stay in the barns, why you don’t want to socialize with some of them, they’re so unkind to you it makes me crazy.” Jimin shakes his head, sour anger filling him like a rotten peach.

- Yoongi, looks more than pacified, looking up at Jimin with an indecipherable look. Most of the time, Jimin can get a good guess on how he’s feeling but not now- not that indecipherable heaviness he finds there. or the strangely heavy marshmallow scent that’s fluffed around them. Jimin lets go of Yoongi’s hat.

- After a moment Yoongi nods, and Jimin takes it as a thank you. They’re done for the day and dinner won’t be for another few hours or so. Jimin is ready to avoid some of the strangers and hopefully take advantage of the empty showers. The sky is grey with incumbent storm clouds when Jimin makes his way to the shower buildings which he finds blissfully empty; except for the bear hybrid Jackson that tosses a greeting at Jimin before exiting.

- Jimin doesn’t even bother to flick the lights on, instead of settling for the calm light that comes through the skylights, grey and hazy. the storm clouds have started to roll in properly. He hums as he disrobes, goes to grab his favorite strawberry body wash, and picks the last shower at the end, disrobing in relative comfort, glad for a moment of privacy.

- The blissfully Coldwater does wonders for his overheating muscles, relaxing his body deliciously from a day spent walking up and down the hill. he digests the chaos of the day- seokjin and hoseok fighting, yoongi getting shoved. you'd looked frazzled the last time he'd seen you, smile strained as you made small talk with most of the humans, Namjoon always close incase you needed someone to lean on.

-  Jimin had been able to tell that your feet were sore just by looking at you. Namjoon will probably make you sit down before long, maybe he already has. You’ll probably cut off the adoption day because of the rain. Taking down names and information before you send them on their way. You rarely let a hybrid leave the farm after one adoption day, needing to have more private meetings and house calls to willingly part with one of them. You just want to make sure you dont release them back into another abusive household. 

- He hums as he washes, lingering in the water and taking a longer shower than he usually would. He hums, testing the way his vocal cords wrap around the acoustics of the empty high ceilinged room. 

Then he hears the scuffling of someone in the bathroom too and cuts off. A little abashed at being caught. The rustling getting closer and its a moment before he realizes that the rustling is coming from his own section of the bath. he smells him the second before he pulls the shower curtain gets pulled back. 

- “Yoongi!” Jimin shouts, furiously grabbing at something to cover his nakedness. Jimin furiously tries to cover his crotch, grabbing one of the large bargain bottles of shampoo and hold it there even as cold water runs over his face. Getting into his wide eyes. “Yoongi what the fuck! You’re naked!”

- Jimin is glad that the rumors about snake hybrids having double the appendages as a normal hybrid are false but he can’t stop his blush or his wandering eyes as he sees the snake hybrid in full. Or the hot lick of arousal that shocks him through his core- especially when he recognizes the heaviness to Yoongi's scent as being arousal. 

- there is a single moment, jimin can smell yoongi- can see the want in his eyes, can feel his own scent fluff out to meet his, yoongi sags under the weight of Jimin's scent as the surprise dissipates. "do you-" Jimin's face must be brighter than a tomato. He reaches out a tentative hand, "do you want to-" 

- Before Jimin can do much more than that Yoongi’s lips are on his, tentative but firm and passionate, the fire leaking into him from Yoongi as jimin stumbles in surprise. The kiss tastes like thank you and Ive wanted to do this for longer than i care to admit and everything yoongi can't say, can't let slip past his lips. jimin drops the shampoo bottle which narrowly misses his foot as Yoongi’s hands come up to encircle his jaw so softly like Yoongi is holding the most important thing in his world. Jimin is so shocked that for a moment- he doesn’t kiss back and Yoongi retracts- not before Jimin chases his lips and the snake hybrid returns to him.

- It’s the first time Yoongi’s ever touched Jimin so bare, and the snake’s hands on the back of his neck feel cold and shivery but good. As Jimin’s back hit’s the wall and their fronts press together for a moment, just brushing. Then colliding with more force as they both realize how good it feels to be so close to someone you trust. It’s dizzying- intoxicating, and Jimin knows his mouth is moving sloppily even if he wants to kiss Yoongi with just as much intent. 

- The snake hybrid bites- actually bites- down on Jimin’s tongue. And a strangled whine comes to live and die in his throat. A snarl in his ears from Yoongi's mouth as the snake hybrid keeps his biting, moves to Jimin's throat- bites hard Enough that Jimin knows he'll leave a bruise. "leave more- yoongi please mark me" jimin feels hot with the thought of it- the thought of all the other hybrids being able to smell yoongi on his scent gland. 

- Jimin doesn’t know where to put his hands, he knows enough to know that Yoongi doesn’t like to be touched and unsure if it extends to right now. but it seems okay if he’s doing the touching. His hands sliding down Jimin's back to his waist. He’s a good kisser, the best that Jimin’s ever kissed (not that there have been many) and he tips his head forward to put as much scalding force as he can into it when yoongi leaves his neck in favor of his mouth, trying to match Yoongi’s intensity even if he can’t match his skill.

- Yoongi takes a step forward, and Jimin’s cock brushes his hipbone, and he can’t stop the way his hips jump at the contact, brushing into Yoongi further. Jimin’s blood boils with arousal. Yoongi is equally as hard compared to Jimin. And Jimin doesn't know if its water or precum that he feels on his skin. Can't look down to check.

- By the time Yoongi leans back and finishes running his fingers through Jimin’s hair and over his shoulders. Jimin’s so wound up he feels like he’s about the pass out. The cool water cascading over his back doing nothing to settle him. Yoongi moves his hips- testing the waters, as he grinds, works jimin’s hips into an unsteady rhythm. and jimin moans. 

- Yoongi pulls back, looking at jimin, their noses brushing, like he can’t bear to have jimin farther away from him than this, want heavy in his eyes, and Jimin tastes the words on Yoongi’s lips as good as if he’d said them. “Yoongi” jimin breathes. Palms pressed carefully to the shower wall so that he won’t reach out and yank Yoongi closer. But he’s Weak against the wake of this of all this feeling.

- “fuck- kiss me again- can we- ” Jimin feels strung out, his body heavy with something like heat- maybe Jimin is actually having a heat and it’s not just in his imagination (he wouldn't really know what it felt like- never having had one before because of his malnutrition). But This kind of kissing is certainly enough to trigger one.

- Yoongi opens his mouth for a second, almost like he’s about to speak- or to try to, Jimin’s never been sure if he can- if it’s muteness or just Yoongi being selective. And then in the next moment, Yoongi’s gone, almost tripping on his way out of the showers with how fast he’s leaving jimin. A whine dies in his throat and jimin starts after him, But then Yoongi turns back. Gesturing with a hand for jimin to stay put. Yoongi looks angry, and it takes a moment for Jimin to realize that the anger wasn’t directed at jimin- only at Himself.

- Jimin stays in the shower, water thundering down around him as the sky overhead thunders too. Jimin listens to the faint sound of Yoongi dressing and then leaving the showers. Jimin lets him go. So sure that he has absolutely no idea what just happen- or even if he didn’t imagine the whole thing.

- jimin’s hand on himself doesn't feel nearly good as Yoongi’s did. 

- Yoongi’s hands shake all the way back up the hill, and he hopes his wet hair won’t be too suspicious especially when a mixed group of hybrids crosses his path. Returning to the barns as most of the adoption day festivities have ended.

 - Yoongi’s careful to keep his eyes averted. And like usual- the conversation comes to a halt when Yoongi passes them by. It no longer bugs him the way it might have once. They have a good reason not to want to associate with him. Yoongi’s body shakes with the weight of the things he’s done and the things he’s going to do.

- you gather with 3 families on your porch as you take down their names and contact information. You send yoongi a concerned look as he quickly heads inside the house. Pausing only for a moment before he decides to go to Namjoon first. Later- later he’ll ask you too. 

- Stupid- he’s been so stupid recently. Touching you- indulging in these short sweet touches because he wants more so badly. Knows he can never have it doesn’t stop the wanting. If his owner ever found out what he’s done- if she ever found out what he’d almost done with jimin- she’d surely have Jimin’s hands for it. 

- And as much as Yoongi wishes it were any other way- Jimin almost touching him does remind him of far worse times. Though he’d been the one to initiate it this time- the memories still linger. 

- Times when foreign hands touched his skin as he’d thrashed and screamed trying to protest against the taunting words of his owner. “I’ve never been interested in snake dick but if you want him for tonight you can have him- just be careful- he bites” and he shakes with those memories. Though its been many years. like most kinds of torture- eventually, his owner had grown bored with using yoongi's body as a bargaining chip. Yoongi wonders if he’s ever going to be able to be touched that way without feeling the revulsion at his own body.

- Jimin had come close, but he'd known- known that yoongi didn't want him to touch him. Had seemed more than willing to be touched himself. the revulsion hadn't hit him until the end. 

- The places he’s been touched without his consent feel black and decaying- or like ink, every time someone touches him- Yoongi’s surprised that ink doesn’t come away on your hands soft and delicate. But it didn’t change the fact that Yoongi wanted it- and wants it still. 

- he wants to see you soft and sated the way you look sometimes in the morning when he can smell Namjoon on you- wants to cause it- maybe, someday in the future if you'll let him. He knows you’d be gentle with him. Wouldn’t put your hands anywhere he didn’t want. Would check in with him- going as slowly or as quickly as he wanted too. Namjoon would be able to be gentle too- Yoongi’s sure of it.

- He wants it, even though he knows that want only put you all in danger. He’s an incredibly selfish person. He hopes he never gets to have that intimacy with you, for your sake.

- yoongi should only let himself dream of something good before he goes- sinks back into that life. But the temptation for more is too strong sometimes, his want filling him up like sticky sweet syrup that pollutes every moment. 

- Namjoon is on the second floor of your house and Yoongi takes the stairs two at a time. Folding laundry in what will one day be the nursery for your child. He’s taken the ultrasound up here now- hung it up so he can look at it. and Yoongi is reminded of A few days ago when he gushed about the development of your child to Yoongi in the kitchen comparing them to the size of a fruit. “a cute little cantaloupe- the cutest little cantaloupe”

- You and Namjoon have made the decision not to find out the gender, but the walls of the nursery are still pained blue, puffy clouds above and little flowers below, dandelions and daisies, a stalwart sunflower that curls over the arch of the door half-finished. Yoongi knows you work on the mural it whenever you can. But Namjoon gets a little paranoid about the fumes- you compromise and keep the windows open along with the door to your balcony to allow as much air circulation as possible.

- The crib, a fluffy white thing is already piled into the corner. And Yoongi remembers the first few weeks here when you and Namjoon had overzealously ordered it. He’d come downstairs after dinner one night and found both of you puzzling over the directions. And he’d shooed Namjoon away as he’d helped you put it together. The three of you ending up giggly and punch drunk tired by the time it was fully put together. And then had to carry it all the way up the stairs. 

-A mobile of little felted flowers that Seokjin made you as a thank you present a hangs above the empty Crib- colorful and cute. And Namjoon has set the laundry on the unused changing table in neat stacks. All of the other furniture is piled into the center of the room so that you can paint the walls. He turns when he hears Yoongi, his tail swishing.

- “Hey Yoon- what you get caught in a rainstorm or something?” the rain splatters against the windows with a soft patter and Yoongi drips onto the floor. He never bothered to dry off after the unintentional shower with jimin. Yoongi makes a shrug that means ‘something like that’ and if the younger hybrid hovers on the way that Yoongi’s lips look a little kiss bitten and swollen he doesn’t say a thing. Namjoon knows better than anyone- what they talk about and what they don’t.

- He hands over the slip of paper; “jimin should move into the main house, you and I could clean out one of the storage rooms and move the stuff into the attic.”

-  Yoongi watches Namjoon’s eyes rove over the words a few times. The hybrid purses his lips, “I’ve talked to Y/n about this- and she agrees- but I don’t know if he wants too? He seems pretty comfortable in the barns, he likes Taehyung and they’re friends. and we kind of want to leave it up to him if we can.”

- Yoongi snatches the paperback from him, annoyance flickering in his chest as he rolls his eye. Didn’t Namjoon see that nothing would change if they didn’t push him a little? Jimin is the type to take that kind of abuse again and again if it means not making a fuss. And Yoongi knows it’s only a matter of time before something happens again. He turns it over onto the other side and using the wall as a place to write.

- “He’s already being treated differently because of me” 'me' being double underlined- so that Namjoon really understands what he’s trying to say. Yoongi just wants to make sure Jimin is safe before he goes. Before he needs to leave and before it gets too dangerous and too near a time when his owner will physically retrieve him. Not that Namjoon knows that Yoongi’s presence has an expiration date. Namjoon searches Yoongi’s face for a source to his desperation and finds none.

- Yoongi has never felt worse for keeping secrets. Maybe in another world- Yoongi would have confessed and asked Namjoon, with all of his connections to the police, for help. Yoongi knows enough to put the whole crime system out of whack and yet. Years of negative reinforcement and beatings have taught him to keep his mouth shut and that isn’t going to change now; not when Yoongi’s life isn’t the only one at risk and he knows you’ll all live if he plays by the rules. He doesn't care about his own safety anymore. 

- The second he sees Yoongi’s distraught expression Namjoon steps closer Taking off his flannel and tugging it around his shoulders. Namjoon might not make moves to scent mark Yoongi but dressing him in his clothes is as good as he gets. Namjoon’s comforting alpha scent fluffs around him.

- Yoongi wonders if jimin feels the pull the same way he does. Dynamics are more mobile in snake hybrids and downright non-existent in humans. but they’re more set in canines. Namjoon puts his hand on Yoongi’s clothed arm and Yoongi shuffles close after a second. His nose centimeters from Namjoon’s neck taking in deep breathes to try and steady himself. He didn’t realize he was shaking.

- “It will be alright Yoongi, I promise. He’s gonna be safe.” Namjoon adds quieter. And below them both- in the first floor of the house, he can hear your voice, echoing louder and laughing at some sort of joke, Namjoon’s tail starts wagging at the suggestion of you. “I want them to feel safe too.”

- Yoongi wants to write “he should take my room- I won’t be staying in it soon anyway.” but Yoongi needs to make sure- before he leaves. Jimin has to be included in your little pack. He doesn’t want to think- about what the three of you will go through when he eventually has to leave. The days are counting down to the end of the summer. 

- He’s fucking selfish, so selfish, to kiss Jimin like that when he knows he won't be able to stay in the hybrids life. He’s selfish every time he begs affection off you, every day he keeps Namjoon Company when he’s cleaning up the other barns. Yoongi writing out words in the dust when Namjoon asks him questions. Eyes only searching when Namjoon turns his back. Looking for any sort of hidden compartment. Completing his task even if it’s the last thing he wants to do. Betraying you like this.

- Jimin spends the rest of the day wondering if the kiss with Yoongi was just a dream. But later at dinner, Yoongi won’t meet his eyes, and jimin knows he didn’t imagine the kiss. Guilt sticks to Yoongi, more distracting than honey stuck between your fingertips.

- Both of them go to sleep still thinking about the kiss. Jimin wondering if it will happen again and Yoongi thinking that he’d like it too. His fingers running over his lower and upper lips, mind awash with the memory of jimin’s mouth on his. And night falls heavy like a weighted blanket on the farm. The sky a big sheet with holes poked through for stars. A heavenly breeze tempting away the summer heat.

- All of the hybrids safe and snoring in their beds. Some even paired- if they’ve got it. Two furry bodies packed close on a single bed. Some even dream of homes they mind one day live in or of the people that one day they’ll get to love. The idea of being kept and treasured lulling them into a drowsy haze of anticipation and security. 

- That night, Namjoon knocks on Yoongi’s door. the hybrid leaning up against the doorframe as he watches the snake get ready for bed. “you know... you could sleep in our room if you want, we have an air conditioner in there too.” yoongi has a notepad ready, he knows that Namjoon likes to open all the windows and even the door to your balcony to let the fresh air in so that it feels like you're sleeping outside. He steels himself to think of someone other than himself before he writes- “I’m okay- thanks though” Yoongi writes out. 

- Namjoon lifts one of Yoongi’s blankets to his neck before he leaves, thoroughly scents marking it before he leaves it with Yoongi. And Yoongi sleeps easy that night with his nose pressed to the blanket. Safe and secure in his room. Nothing bad happens to yoongi that night even though he cuddles close to the blanket, and when he wakes in the morning. his heart beats a steady thumping rhythm- his whole body humming with anticipation. 

- It’s different to feel excited about being in love, excited for a day spent close to the people he cares about. And he knows he won't take a single day for granted. 

- The crickets and cicadas chirping in the field. And in a low tone on the tree outside, a morning dove gentle and unassuming. The sun rising over the hills. Tastes of idyllic and smells of Eden. Like lavender and honey.

- A hand outstretched, scrambling in the dirt before it goes still, fingers just a few inches from safety. Blood mixing in with the sand. The morning is not perfect for everyone.

- But even you would say the morning was peaceful, if not for the dead body dumped at the end of your driveway. 

Kofi

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ BLACK JACKET WITH WHITE LETTERS ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: Would I be able to request prompt 16 “You're mine. I don't share”. With Hank voight where they go to one of those police events and she works in his unit and they are a couple with her being younger and they dont have to be in police uniform so she wears a really nice dress and as he introduces her and talks to other people he knows, some of the men check her out and try flirt with her and he notices. Could there be a bit of smut if not that's cool to ❤❤

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 3k.

❚❙ Warnings: swearing, unprotected sex.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ General tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @destynelseclipsa @miahelen @jadakiss13 @mcgreads @graniairish @teller258316 @i-love-scott-mccall @tclaerh. Hank Voight tag list: @sophie-writes. If you wanna be added to my tag list, send my a message! ⚡

Fortunately, it's been a quiet day, otherwise, you couldn't deal with a Districts event like the Commanders call them. A meeting that reunites every officer, inspector, detective, and whoever who wears ‘the blue uniform’; including special agents from the FBI. These last ones are the kind of man who pushes you out of your good mood with all that quackery about serving the whole country, the unlimited resources, the missions. Every time you hear a fed talking about how passionate and exciting their jobs are, you just want to punch their faces. Mostly, they're behind a desk while cops like you are protecting the streets of Chicago in the firing line. But, as Burgess and Upton said, it's time to have some fun. And anything else.

Since you don't have to wear that horrible uniform you use at official events, you have chosen a breathtaking black silk dress that fits your anatomy to perfection, falling from your chest, with a spaghetti strap neckline, to your ankles. And a pair of skyscraper highlights on the same color, with the small difference that the heels are tremendously golden. Your back is almost bare, being crossed by four fine strips, knowing it's going to give Hank some trouble. Oh, you're going to have so much fun tonight. You are very sure.

The soft make-up delights your cute, but lethal, outfit on point ready to leave Kim's house accompanied by your friends. You've arranged to meet at the party with the rest of the Unit since your future husband and Antonio needed to be from the start of the event, which means the three of you are going to earn more than some gazes by assisting alone, with no male figures by your sides. As if you need some kind of protection. Men (...).

Stepping out from your car and giving the keys to the parking attendant, who seems he's having a heart attack after watching you walk with so much cockiness and sensuality, you come into the party. The look you exchange with Kim and Hailey as soon as you check the reaction of the assistants, makes you draw a triumphant smile while raising your chin in some kind of greeting. You aren't going to stop now, leading your steps straight to your partners. Ruzek chokes on champagne with his eyes over Burgess, while Hank looks at you over the edge of his glass of bourbon taking a sip.

“You should work like that every day”. Antonio opines welcoming the three of you in his arms.

“I second that, brother”. Jay quickly adds making a toast with his cup of red wine.

“Bet you'd be the one who wouldn't work”. Hailey replies palming his chest, making you giggle.

In the meantime they continue arguing about the dress code, a strong arm gets placed around your lower back to push you somewhat closer, letting his hand fall over your hipbone. You know exactly what it means. Hank isn't the kind of jealous man, who needs to mark his territory like a dog. But you know that sometimes he feels insecure because of the age gap. He trusts you blindly, that's a fact, but he's human; he has fears and you understand it. Putting your left hand on the back of his neck, you caress his scalp almost unnoticeably, tilting your head to leave a gentle kiss on his cheek earning a satisfied grin from him.

“You look really beautiful tonight”. He whispers, watching you sideways as if it's a secret between you two.

“Thank you, Sergeant. I always try to do my best”.

Hank chuckles against his glass about to have a last sip till emptying it. Taking it from his hand, you pull yourself away to go to the bar and ask for two more drinks. You're thirsty and too sober to be a Friday night. Checking some emails on your phone while the bartender serves your order, you can't help but listen to some backtalk about your career. A couple of suited men combed as politicians and wrapped on a strong scent that throws your stomach. You try to ignore them until they're close enough from your position to offer you a hand in a formal greeting.

“Johnson and Derrick. FBI”.

The blonde one looks like a senior official, while the other looks like a newbie. Turning towards both, you come into the forced polite mood to stretch his hand firmly.

“(Y/L/N), Intelligence Unit, gentlemen. A pleasure”.

“The pleasure is ours, detective”.

“Special agent”. You correct him inevitably, even if it sounds arrogant.

“Special agent, of course”. Johnson replies with a nod of his chin. “I've read your file lately. I have no words to describe it. Graduated with excellent grades in Yale, two years in the Army, another undercover in a Cartel… And you also know how to fly a helicopter”.

“If you weren't from the FBI, I could think you've been stalking me like one of your serial killers, sir”. The sarcasm in your tone of voice earns your Unit's attention, very focused on the conversation between the feds and you.

“Who catches a monster without becoming one, right?”

The man introduces a hand under his jacket to offer you his business card. But you don't take it, just looking at it for a second before raising your eyes towards his.

“In your academy shows you to have the big balls to disrespect a Sergeant or a Chief, by trying to steal their officers in front of their faces? Because mine shows us to serve and protect the citizens”.

His gesture changes suddenly in a sight, hearing some chuckles behind you coming from Hailey and Kim. Raising both eyebrows as you don't get any reply back, you just nod before grabbing the two drinks you have asked for when they interrupted you. Coming back to your friends, you can't help but wrinkle your nose in a gesture of disgust earning more giggles from your partners. But it doesn't seem funny for Hank, who you know he's killing them in thousands of ways inside his head.

As the night passes, you notice Agent Johnson's eyes on you with no shame, starting to make you feel uncomfortable. Although you would be delighted to embarrass him in front of everyone, he has had enough from you. But this doesn't end there. Excusing yourself, you step to the terrace almost emptied to have some fresh air, knowing he's going to follow you. Maybe, to insist a little more. He was so interested in recruiting you to miss the chance.

And as you thought, he's that predictable. You don't turn because of his steps coming closer, but because he pretends to clear his throat to claim your attention. Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head to a side feigning curiosity with a forced smile showing up on your lips.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior. In my profession isn't habitual to find agents of your characteristics”.

“For sure, sir. It doesn't matter”.

“You could have an extraordinary career in the FBI”.

“I already have it where I am. I don't need schedules, cheap suits, and an earpiece to succeed”.

“I understand your relationship interferes in your decision, but you do—”.

“I'm sorry, you said what? Did you…? Oh, god, I can't fucking believe it”. You can't help but laugh shaking your head. “I don't have any relationship as soon as I wear my badge, sir. And you are starting to cross a line you don't want to cross. Believe me”.

“Ma'am, don't misunderstand my words, nor my intentions. I just think ma—”.

“Nobody asked you to think, Johnson”.

Raising your eyes over his shoulders, you can see your boyfriend sipping his glass of whisky, joining the talk as he tries to keep calm. You know Hank to perfection. If he wasn't your boss, he would have punched him already.

“If you continue pissing off my agent, we're gonna have a problem”.

The man just nods, alternating his gaze between the two of you. Seems that he has admitted his defeat.

“Beautiful and lethal. You're a son of a bitch with so much luck, Voight. Take care of this diamond. Or she will end up wearing a blue jacket with yellow letters”.

“Uh-huh”. He replies as you continue remaining silent.

Passing your boss away back to the party, leaving you alone, you can't hide the proud smile that turns your gesture into a funnier one. Taking short steps towards him, you steal the glass from his hand to drink from it under his attentive brown eyes.

“Blue isn't my color. Not at all. I'm more into black”. You whisper referring to the jackets you are used to wearing in the Chicago department.

“Hm…”

“Imagine having your badge hanging from your neck all day like a collar. Do I look like a dog? I prefer to have it on my belt. And I'm already used to the disgusting watered coffee we make in the twenty-one”. As you continue giving him more reasons, your forefinger traces a path up from his chest to his nape. “And I have so much fun driving my Dodge all around Chicago”.

“Anything else you wanna add?”

“Hm… no. Actually, not. That's all, sir”. You reply puckering your lips, pulling yourself away some inches with a playful aura wrapping you both.

“Now lemme tell you something here”. Hank says then, leaning over your ear. “You're mine, I don't share”.

His voice and his characteristic raspy voice gives you some chills down your spine bone. Biting your bottom lip unconsciously while he stands up, you know the party is over for you and it's time to go home. Holding your hand and taking back his glass of whisky, you walk inside to say your goodbyes before leaving the fancy place straight to the underground parking. You are not going to lie saying you don't love his dominant mood when the occasion demands it.

As soon as you reach your car, you can notice sideways Hank making sure you're totally alone. He doesn't usually take risks of being seen in public too lovey-dovey, but it's not about it this time and you can't wait for him to go ahead with his intentions. Of course, he doesn't make you wait for too long to push your back to the copilot door, attacking your neck in the meantime his hands grab your hips stealing you a low gasp. Hank makes himself between your legs, urging you to surround his waist with one of them to close the distance that separates you, feeling the need he has to mark his territory, as rarely he shows.

“Take me home”. You almost beg closing your eyes as his teeth are nailed on your most sensitive spot, earning a soft grunt that vibrates your body.

“I'm gonna take you here, sweetheart. Any problem?”

“Hell, no, sergeant”.

“Get in the car. Now”.

You don't complain, taking it as an order when he takes two steps back releasing your body and opening the back door for you. And the next minute passes too fast, rolling up your dress as Hank undoes his belt and unzips his pants. In just a sigh he's deep-buried between your legs. It's the first time you take this kind of risk, almost in public, and the horniness it produces is driving you crazy. With your lips almost touching the others, you moan uninhibited every time his hands on your lower back urge you to keep swinging your hips, sitting on his lap.

The way his eyes memorize every gesture drawn on your face has you breathless. It's a sensation you can't describe. Hank has some kind of power over you that you haven't experienced before, even if you think you're indomitable he always manages to make whatever he wants with you. And you know it. You let him do it. Just like right now, marking his territory with desirous bites and wet kisses all around your exposed throat. The most visible part of your body. He doesn't need to prove anything. He isn't the kind of man who needs to call out any other man who dares to lay his eyes on you. Everybody in this damn city knows you're more than his pupil and they're too scared to say hi, although there's always an exception to the rule. In this case, the FBI agents acting like carrion birds.

The mist clouds the windows, as the heat concentrated on your bodies makes you sweat slightly. Hank takes the control turning you under his body against the seat in a position that puts you to see the stars. Every move of his pelvis is accurate, hitting your g-spot, satisfied with how good his name sounds getting drowned between pleased moans once and again. With every push to your body, his dick is dug deeper through your tight wetness making him grunt into your ear, feeling more delighted than never before. And everything is because of the way you had to reply to that FBI agent in front of everyone, showing him how clear you have your preferences; not only because of your relationship, as Johnson pointed out. But because everybody in Chicago is aware that there's no better boss in law enforcement. There's no better Unit than the Intelligence one from the police department of your hometown.

As your legs get wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, one of his arms surrounds your middle back while his free hand flies straight to your throat. Keeping your eyes closed, the suffocating sensation within your lower belly continues growing with every thrust that steals the air from your lungs and races your heart over its possibilities. You're close. So close that your mind is a total blank, just focused on the way only he can make you feel. So good, so desired, so full of life. He knows it, he takes it in advantage. And he enjoys it more than anything.

“Oh, fuck…” Hank got you almost in tears because of the pleasure, traveling your hands to the back of his neck, nailing your nails there. “God… I'm gonna… Fuck, Hank, don't stop, please… Don't stop”.

“I won't, my love… Not till you give me what I want”.

His voice always plays dirty with your mind. The way he has to drag every syllable on his tongue with that husky voice that puts you to tremble, as he continues burying his hard dick inside you with no mercy, speeding up as soon as he feels your legs clung to his body slightly shaking. Because of the fewer insecurities he has about your relationship, he feels proud whenever he makes you reach that sweet sensation of the orgasm taking control of your anatomy. He doesn't care if he has to use his hands, his tongue… whatever. It's not only about sex between the two of you, of course not. But making you cum screaming out his name is an every-day-goal.

And you don't make him wait for too long, arching your back when a lash of heat hits your spine and the grenade inside your lower belly explodes. Your gasps fill up your car, while he continues fucking you harder than seconds before not showing any compassion to your exhausted body, looking for your lips to devours them desperately. His tongue starts a fight for dominance, winning over yours like every single time, in the meantime his fingers grips tightly your throat. Instinctively, you swing your hips in sync, provoking every move to go deeper among your shaky legs.

Hank can't hold it anymore, digging his cock to the limits of your guts, almost hitting your soul with a last strong lung. His warm seed fills you up completely, keeping pushing his body against yours, pressing both to the seat with his hands now placed on the headrest. It feels like a whole set of fireworks. Your moans complement his delighted growls to perfection.

“Don't move, please”. You beg with a thin voice thread, at the same time he rests his forehead on yours.

The two of you can barely breathe, trying to recover after an intense session of your favorite cardio workout. From nowhere, you can't help but giggle in unison. You can't believe you just fucked inside your car and with the risk of being caught in the act. A sergeant and one of his special agents. Even if it's your free night and you're in an established relationship, he's still your boss.

“I would miss working with you”.

“Huh?”

“If I get the FBI's offer”. You mumble, leaving clumsy kisses all around his face. “You're the best cop Chicago has”.

“You don't have to butter me up for a second round”.

Shaking your head briefly and laughing, you caress his scalp so gently as he sinks his face into your sweaty neck.

“Now you said so… maybe I have the fantasy of being bent over your desk”.

“Maybe?”

“Yeah, just… maybe”.

“Then maybe I could bring you to my office, before going home. There's some paperwork to attend to”.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

cuddling

here is my contribution for ace week! im literally squeezing this in at the last possible second (as its 11:32pm on 10/31 as i start this) but better late than never i suppose!!

i dont often talk about my sexuality on this blog, but i do identify as ace and its not something ive ever been overly comfortable with. but seeing the plethora of ace week fics on my dash this past week (mostly by @jaskierswolf, hi, hope you dont mind being tagged) has been so awesome and has made me feel so much more comfortable in myself that i had to write something for this :)

this is some gray romantic/ace geralt with some ace jaskier. warnings for mentions of dubious consent/ not wanting to have sex but doing it anyway. there is no explicit sexual content but it is referenced.

___

Geralt was a Witcher. His entire livelihood consisted of him doing things for humans: killing monsters, bargaining with sorceresses, fighting wars, protecting them from pretty much anything that could hurt their fragile mortal selves. It had been trained into him ever since he was a child. Do what the humans ask of you. It is your job. 

So why would sex be any different?

Humans enjoyed sex. This was something Geralt had come to learn during his time on the path. What was even worse was that some of them especially enjoyed having sex with Witchers. 

Geralt did not enjoy sex. He was not a human, and it was decidedly a human activity. But that did not stop humans from wanting to have sex with him. Some sought him out specifically, wanting to know what it was like to lie with a Witcher for a night. Others insisted on paying him for his monster hunting duties with a round. He never took pleasure in it. Sometimes he would pretend he did. He had gotten quite good at pretending over the years, learning little tricks that humans seemed to like. But the act of it itself made his skin crawl for days on end and he could feel their fingers and lips long after the marks on his skin had faded.

But he worked for humans. He couldn't deny them what they asked of him. 

He assumed Jaskier would be the same. The man was certainly human, so much so that he would flirt with grass if it came down to it (which, admittedly, Geralt had only witnessed once, and Jaskier had been very drunk at the time, but still). But he never tried to bed him, which surprised Geralt. He knew he was good, if the praises of the the people he'd laid with before were any indication Humans generally needed him for a favor and then left him to the wind. Jaskier hadn’t asked him to kill a monster or help him track down an unruly mage, and it had been years at least since they had first crossed paths. The only logical conclusion that Geralt could come to was that Jaskier was waiting for him to bed him and then he would leave, just like everyone else.

The problem was that Geralt had grown quite fond of Jaskier over the years (and his incessant flirting) and while he didn’t want the bard to leave, he also didnt want Jaskier to be miserable following him around anymore. Five years was quite a long time to wait for a round, especially in human years. Resignedly, Geralt told himself that in the next town he would lay with Jaskier and then the whole thing could be over, and they could both move on with their lives. 

He rented a room with one bed, as they often did, despite there being enough coin for one with two. Jaksier hardly noticed, flouncing off to play a few sets for the locals while Geralt went upstairs to prepare. 

He felt the characteristic tightening of his stomach and the shakiness that always came with this particular activity, but he stripped down obediently, even talking the time to rub some of the oils Jaskier liked to much into his hair before laying down on the bed to wait. 

He didn’t have to wait long. “Geralt! You’ll never believe th- whoa, were you expecting someone?” He stood in the doorway awkwardly.

“Just you,” Geralt grunted. They should get this over with. 

“Me? Geralt...did you think I wanted to have sex with you?”

“Well...” Geralt picked at the blanket, feeling foolish for having to explain himself, he thought that humans should understand these things. “Humans always need me for something. And you dont need a monster killed, so I figured....” “Oh dear heart,” Jaskier walked over and sat down on the bed next to him, running his fingers though his hair. “Please do not take this the wrong way, but I do not want to have sex with you.”

“You don’t?” Geralt was shocked. “But...humans....”

“Not all humans like sex Geralt. I certainly don’t. It makes me skin crawl and I feel all weird after. So I don’t do it. I’m still plenty romantic with people, but I dont get into bed with them.” “Hmm.” Jaskier didn’t like sex either? Maybe it wasn't a human thing after all.

“What it Geralt? That was your I’m-Contemplating-Something hum.”

“It...makes my skin crawl too.” He said carefully after a few moments. 

Jaskier’s hand slowed in his hair. “Dear heart,” he began carefully. “Do you like sex?”

Did he? No one had ever asked him what he wanted before. He didnt think he did. It didnt feel pleasant and he usually had to jump in a cold stream after. “No.”

“Then why did you want to do it with me?” “You’re human,” Geralt shrugged. “Humans either want me to kill monsters or want me in their bed. I serve humans, I can’t turn them down. You are a human.” 

"But you dont like sex?”

“No. I’m a Witcher. It’s probably the mutations. But can still get by.” Actually, now that he thought about it, from what he remembered, he’d never been much interested in it before the trials either.

“Geralt,” Jaskier tilted his chin up to look at him and he saw sadness swirling in his eyes. “Not wanting to have sex is not a Witcher thing. Plenty of humans feel the same way too. Admittedly there aren't many of us, I’ve only come across a few in my lifetime, and I think there's a word for it but I can’t remember it right now. Sex does not interest me either, but there are far more other important things in a relationship than just sex.”

Geralt was confused. “But sex is the only thing people ever wanted me for.” 

“And I’m terribly sorry about that, dear heart, but you’re with me now and I will never make you have sex with me. Have you ever- or wait, is there anything else that you dont like?”

Geralt’s head was spinning, and he was still stuck on the part where Jaskier had said that he would never make Geralt have sex with him. For the first time that evening, he felt his hands stop their shaking and something like warmth bloom inside him. “Hmm?”

“Is there anything else you dont like doing? Besides the sex bit I mean.”

Besides sex....Geralt tried to remember what came along with laying with someone. He usually blocked it all out after. “Kissing,” he finally said. “Burns my skin.”

“Alright, we’ll do none of that then.” Jaskier moved from the bed, beginning to take off his doublet and Geralt seized up for a second, afraid that Jaskier was going go back on his word, but then he reached for his nightclothes. “Are you familiar with cuddling?”

“Cuddling?” The word felt unfamiliar in his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Jaskier smiled. “Go put your nightclothes on. I think I have something that you will enjoy far better than that nasty sex business.”

So here it was then, Jasper did need him for a service after all. Geralt got out of bed and slowly pulled on his night clothes, painfully aware this would be their last night together before they parted ways for good, before returning to the bed. 

“Right, so youre just going to lay on your side, yes right like that, and then I lay behind you, see? And I put my arm around you like this, and we snuggle.” Jaskier’s breath tickled his hair.

“What do we do though?” “What do you mean, what do we do?” Despite Jaskier’s words though, he didnt seem angry. “This is it. We hold each other and enjoy each others presence. We can change positions, if you want, like you can take a turn holding me for example or I could lay on your chest, but we just hold each other close. Show each other we care. This is called cuddling.”

“Hmm.” As far as Geralt was concerned, it was far better than sex. But he knew it wouldn't last. This was all Jaskier wanted from him, clearly, which prevented Geralt from thoroughly enjoying it. 

“Where will you go?” he spoke into the silence a few long moments later. 

Jaskier paused drawing light patterns on Geralts forearm. “What do you mean?”

“Tomorrow.” Wasn't it obvious?

“Well I’ll go wherever you’re going. Just like we always have?"

“You...you’re not,” Geralt swallowed thickly. “You’re not leaving?” 

“Leaving?” Jaskier’s voice rose an octave. “Why on the continent would I be leaving?”

“You’ve got what you wanted from me, with this....cuddling business. You have no reason to stay.”

“Oh dear heart.” The next thing he knew he was being flipped around to face Jaskier. Jaskier, who had tears in his eyes that were just barely visible in the low light. Instinctively, he reached up to brush them away. “I’m cuddling with you because I care about you, because I love you. Not because I want something from you.”

“Oh.” Geralt didn’t know what to say. Jaskier loved him? No one had ever loved him before, much less cared about him or wanted him to be comfortable. 

Jaskier placed his hand on Geralt’s chest. “You never have to do anything you dont want to do with me. And if you don’t want to travel with me anymore, I’ll leave. You are your own person, Geralt, even if you are a Witcher. And you make your own decisions. You wouldn't take a contract that you felt unsafe doing, so in the same vein, you dont have to have sex with anyone if you dont want to. You make your own decisions. You dont even have to cuddle with me right now if you want to. You choose what you want to do based on what you’re comfortable doing, do you understand?”

Geralt nodded into the darkness. This was all so much. He hadn't been able to make his decisions in...well ever. And now Jaskier was giving him permission to. “I want you to stay,” he whispered. “I....care about you too.” He didnt say that he thought he could love him, he wasn't ready to say that yet. And according to Jaskier he didnt have to say it if he didnt want to. 

“Good. Now that we've got that sorted, come here,” Jaskier pulled Geralt into his chest, running his fingers through his hair delicately. Geralt closed his eyes, never had he felt more safe in his entire life. Who knew humans could be so gentle?

Just as he was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness he whispered, “Jaskier?”

“Hmm?”

Geralt felt a small smile tug at his lips at hearing how own language on Jaskier’s lips. “Can we do more of this...cuddling?”

Jaskier’s laugh sounded through his chest, vibrating pleasantly against Geralt’s ear. “Of course we can, dear heart. Of course.”

___

that turned out way longer than i thought it would and its now 37 minutes late but oh well.

throw me an ask if you wanna be on my tag list!

taglist: @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @barlowarts @eminasan @llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @nonegenderleftpain @electricrituals

[quokkacore]

mojave, mo’problems (m)

summary: throughout your life, you’d been told that a life of crime was the loneliest of all. now, however, your boyfriends, johnny and jaehyun, a pair of bank robbers, and you, their getaway driver, beg to differ.

pairing: seo johnny x jeong jaehyun x fem reader

genre: SMUT, fluff, minor angst, found family, criminals!au

warnings: poly relationship, language, guns, mentions of cops (acab!!!), armed robbery, mentioned physical, mental and emotional abuse, reader, johnny and jaehyun are from broken homes, mentioned alcohol abuse, overuse of pet names :’), unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap ur willy!!), JAEHYUN HAS NIPPLE PIERCINGS, minor daddy kink? its used like,, once, dirty talk, threesome, boyxboy, soft dom johnny switch jaehyun, sub reader, hair pulling, slight overstimulation, orgasm denial, spitroasting, praise kink, size kink, mentions of double penetration, blowjobs, cunnilingus, general filth

song recs: stevie nicks & don henley - leather & lace ♡ nct 127 - fly away with me ♡ lana del rey - national anthem ♡ triple h - retro future

word count: 9.4k

a/n: this was originally uploaded to my old writing blog on july 22nd, 2020. there were a few things in the original a/n that i wanted to keep. one, due to how multicultural los angeles is, i imagine the reader being latina or bipoc, but i make no mention of skin color!! two, i blame the w korea johnjae photoshoot for this. the room they were shooting in and the hawaiian shirts totally gave me desert motel vibes. and finally, pls stay safe, wash ur hands, and pls keep urself informed on current issues with resources like this carrd. <3

Burbank, Los Angeles, California, 12:22 PM

“You both remember the plan, right?"

"Yeah, John.”

“Oh my god, Johnny, we went over the plan seven times last night and twice on the way here. We know what to do.”

Johnny huffed, staring pointedly at you before rolling his eyes.

“…Fine. We’ll take less than fifteen minutes, okay? You know what to do, smart girl."

You looked at Johnny, who was sitting shotgun next to you, as his hand came up to touch the back of your head, gaze warm.

"Be careful,” You said, eyes moving to the rearview mirror, where you met Jaehyun’s eyes, “Both of you.”

Jaehyun nodded, his hand coming up to cover Johnny’s. “We will be. You be careful too, baby.”

You mirrored his action, nodding, and watched as they got out of the car to walk one block down to the bank. You watched them until they disappeared from sight, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel to calm your nerves. You were grateful Johnny had chosen this quiet, relatively empty street to wait on, avoiding calling attention to yourself.

Even after two years of doing this, it still made you nervous to wait for their signal to drive up to the front with your face mask on. One of the two burner phones you’d acquired a week prior was burning a hole in your pocket, the other tucked safely into Jaehyun’s.

You let out a deep breath, letting your eyes close for a moment, briefly thinking back to the first time you’d met them. You were nineteen, Jaehyun was twenty-one, and Johnny twenty-three.

Downtown, Los Angeles, California 3:48 AM

Two years ago, you had been working a shitty job at an old 50s style diner in the more dangerous side of LA to scrounge up enough money to run away from a less-than-ideal home life. The only noise of the diner, coming from the old jukebox in the corner crooning out some old Stevie Nicks song, was broken up by two tall, handsome men entering and sitting at a booth from across each other. You were immediately wary of them. They were obviously trying not to draw attention to themselves, but it was a bit difficult with their statures and hunched backs, leaning close to each other and whispering in rushed tones.

Still, after gathering your pen and notepad, and grabbing a pair of menus, you approached the table, doing your best to put on a customer service smile despite your feet aching and head pounding from your exhaustion.

“Welcome to Ernie’s. Can I get you boys anything?” You asked quietly, setting down the menus on the table. The two men exchanged glances, before the taller one spoke.

“For now, two black coffees would be great—”

“Actually, can I get a burger with some fries?”

Your eyes darted to the shorter one, who was sporting a small, friendly smile as he fiddled with the menu.

You nodded, pulling out the notepad to write down the order. “Do you still want both coffees, or…?”

“Uhh, sure. Why not, we could use the caffeine.” He chuckled softly, and your smile got bigger at the pleasant noise. Even through the early morning hour daze, you could pick up on his charm from miles away.

“Sure thing, I can bring you guys the coffee right now, but your burger and fries might take a little bit. Anything else I can get you?”

The taller man on your left gazed up at you with wide brown eyes rimmed with dark circles underneath, totally devoid of any emotion. “We’re good, thanks.”

As you approached the kitchen window to hand the cook the order, you were able to pick up on a few not so subtle murmurs.

“Why are you in such a good mood, Jaehyun? It’s three in the morning, Yuta bailed on us and the shipment is coming in four days and we don’t even have half of a plan.”

Pouring the coffee as quietly as you could, you strained your ears to listen. Maybe if you hadn’t been so exhausted, you wouldn’t have eavesdropped, but you’d been working since 10 PM. Your head hurt, your feet ached, and you were in the mood for some entertainment, and now your curiosity had been piqued.

“Babe, calm down. I told you I have another guy who could work as our getaway driver—”

“I wouldn’t get into another car with Yangyang behind the wheel if I were covered in full fucking body armor. And I’m sure as hell not letting him be our getaway driver!” As you set the old white mugs on your serving tray, your breath hitched at his agitated whisper.

Getaway driver?

“We’re robbing a bank for Christ’s sake, Jae, not playing bumper cars.”

As you turned to face the two from behind the counter, they immediately tensed. You pretended not to have heard anything, flashing them an innocent smile as you cautiously set the mugs down on the table.

“You’re lucky I made a new pot a half hour ago! Not too hot, but not super cold either.”

The man on the right, who you now knew was named Jaehyun, had tried his best to put on his first smile, but it wasn’t working too well. It looked slightly too forced, too tight-lipped to be believable. “Thank you…” He said through somewhat gritted teeth, briefly glancing at your nametag, “…Y/N.”

“You’re very welcome,” You replied, tempted to know what would happen if you added on his name since you’d only heard it while eavesdropping, but quickly decided against it.

“If you need anything else, don’t be afraid to let me know.”

You quickly headed back to the counter, pretending to mind your business as you wiped down the counter. They murmured to each other about needing a fast driver, and the taller, stricter man, who you soon learned was named Johnny, was grumbling about needing someone able to drive as fast as this Yuta guy or even faster.

You remained silent, but all too pensive over the tempting ideas popping into your head upon hearing about their predicament.

All too soon, Jaehyun’s food was ready, and you brought it over, an innocent smile plastered once more over your face as you set it down, but said nothing when you straightened yourself. Unmoving, you met Jaehyun’s eyes. His dark eyes looked slightly alarmed, gaze darting between yours and Johnny’s.

“You know,” You hummed, after taking a deep breath, “For two people planning a crime, you’re both incredibly stupid. You do realize I heard basically everything, right?”

The two men stiffened again, momentarily panicking as they locked eyes, but that quickly melted into confusion when you giggled at their reactions.

“That being said, you’re also both incredibly lucky that Doug, the cook, is a ‘Nam veteran who can’t hear out of his left ear, and that I am a very fast driver who is in desperate need of some good cash.”

Johnny’s eyes were unreadable. “You. A waitress. A fast driver.” His teeth were gritted, and his tone agitated.

“I hate to toot my own horn,” You sighed sarcastically, unsure where your sudden confidence was coming from, “But I know what I’m talking about. I grew up around cars. Both of my parents are mechanics. I practically grew up in their garage. I have some older cousins who drag race on the weekends and taught me how to. I drove my first car when I was like, twelve.”

“What if we say no?” Jaehyun asked, eyes now void of any friendliness, “What then?”

You held up your phone, which had been hiding in your apron pocket, 911 already dialed. You saw Johnny swallow when he saw the numbers, Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so. You felt a surge of power rush to your head, having caught the scarier of the two men now looking like a deer in headlights.

“All I need to do is call. I’m sure the cops would be thrilled to take a look at all the weapons you say you have in your trunk. I want in. You either do this with me or not at all, assholes.”

The two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. They seemed to be having an entire conversation with just their eyes. You tried your best to hide the shaking in your knees and the tremble in your fingers, to ignore the fact that this could easily backfire. If they were considering robbing a bank, they were automatically dangerous. One of them could easily have a gun with them here, and they could very easily pull it out and use it to hurt you or Doug.

Finally, Johnny sighed. He didn’t look very happy, but there was a glint in Jaehyun’s eyes that gave you catharsis.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Johnny said in a cold voice, “Let’s talk business.”

Everything had spiraled from there. You took them for a drive around the city to show them just how fast you could be, they opened themselves up to you being their third musketeer. The first time you robbed a bank, they were there to comfort you after you panicked at the idea of living on the run.

Eventually, you found out about their relationship as lovers, and they found out why you were so willing to drop everything and run away with two strangers, among other things. The story of how you drove your first car at twelve because your alcoholic parents were too wasted to drive to the grocery store, how you were cautious to hide the scars of cigarette burns along your inner forearm. After that, they opened up to you as well.

Why Jaehyun ran away from a promising life studying pre-med at an Ivy League University where expectations were eternally piled onto his shoulders, like Atlas holding up the sky. Why Johnny left suburban Chicago behind for LA at sixteen, tired of the monotony of a normal life where everything in his life had to look perfect, everywhere except behind the curtains of his house because his parents couldn’t stand him being attracted to both women and men, since it wasn’t befitting of the perfect family they so desired to be.

Somewhere along the lines, your strange business relationship of robbing banks and splitting the money equally three ways blossomed into something just as strange, but even better, something you’d never expected. You found yourself falling in love with the both of them, growing into the loving family you’d always wanted but of which you’d always been deprived. They both became fiercely protective of you, and after months of them calling you love, baby, sweetheart, princess, they finally asked you to become a permanent part of their relationship, and you accepted.

You expected so many things to happen in your life, but never to fall in love like this. And it was better than anything you could have asked for. They kept you safe and reminded you that you were worthy of love, something you hadn’t felt growing up.

The sudden vibrating of the burner in your pocket snapped you out of your reverie, and you quickly pulled on the black ski mask over your face before you started the car, not hesitating to speed towards the bank. You could hear police cars in the distance, and you took a deep breath as you rolled up to the front door, where the boys were currently exiting, bags full and guns out.

Your chest swelled with a strange sense of pride as they bolted into the car, shouting at you to drive.

Outrunning the police was a challenge, as always, but you were always faster, despite the fact that the boys had to keep telling you to wiggle your fingers since they were so stiff on the wheel and the last thing you needed was for your hands to cramp up now. Sure, you damaged the car a bit, but you could care less. This wasn’t actually your car. This was the car you’d hotwired almost a week ago, the real getaway car was hiding in a rather empty parking building, which you managed to enter and exit without much difficulty, now riding in a blue station wagon rather than the red Pontiac you’d driven to the bank. You all pulled off your masks, Jaehyun laying down to hide himself from the view of the window behind you.

Soon enough, you were out of Los Angeles, driving east towards the state line, and Jaehyun settled into the back seat. You drove for hours, the mood in the car finally having settled into an excited one a few minutes after leaving LA.

“How much did you guys manage to pull out of them?” You asked with a grin, and Johnny and Jaehyun shared a look, something that they always did.

“Baby girl, we managed to get 900,000 dollars from ‘em, we got ‘em good.” God, if you weren’t driving, you would have kissed Johnny then and there. Instead, you shrieked, “Nine hundred thousand!? That’s the biggest amount we’ve pulled yet!”

Jaehyun leaned forward, resting his chin on the front seat as Johnny looked back at him, pressing a soft kiss to the younger’s lips. “We’re celebrating big time, tonight,” Johnny declared once he pulled away from Jaehyun’s lips, much to Jaehyun’s dismay.

“How much longer till we get there?” Jaehyun asked, deep voice rumbling with satisfaction, mostly undeterred from Johnny’s teasing.

You glanced at the clock built into the dashboard, green lights blinking 4:18 PM. “I could get us there in two hours, but I don’t wanna draw attention by speeding. I’d much rather get to the motel at around eight.”

“Take your time, baby girl,” Jaehyun told you, leaning over even further to press a warm kiss to your temple, and your fingers stiffened on the wheel once more, “Whatever you feel works best.”

“Not too long, though,” Johnny added, “I don’t wanna piss myself before we get there.”

Both you and Jaehyun processed what he said, and immediately burst out laughing afterwards.

Yeah, these were the idiots you fell in love with.

The desert seemed endless, nothing in sight for miles but arid dirt and plants along the road. Somewhere along the road, as the sun began to set in the distance, Jaehyun pulled out his real phone from one of his suitcases in the back of the car, playing soft rock for the three of you to listen to as day turned to night, and the lampposts on the side of the road turned on.

There were far and few towns in between the vast expanse of desert, and because of that the stars shone bright in the limitless sky. When you saw the first flash of the moon up above, a song Jaehyun had put on had just ended, and a familiar Stevie Nicks song started playing afterwards. You smiled to yourself, humming along to the soft, tinkling melody.

Lovers forever, face to face                         

My city, your mountains

Stay with me, stay

I need you to love me

I need you today

Give to me, your leather

Take from me, my lace…

Eventually, after an eternity, you passed the sign you’d been so looking forward to seeing.

Welcome to Verona, Nevada

Population: 1,239

The motel wasn’t that hard to find, as it was just off of the highway. Johnny signed in in under 10 minutes, and you settled into the room on the second floor as quickly as you were allowed. The room smelled like mothballs and the carpet looked like it had once been a deep forest green, but was now a dark brown.

Yes, it was disgusting, but this was necessary to lay low for a while. Posing as three friends on a road trip crashing in a dingy motel for the night was generally the ploy. Next morning you would be out on the road again, driving further away from LA, then after a few days, you would finally return back to your shared apartment.

The three of you carried in the suitcases where the bags had been hidden in, and while you were stretching your legs and Jaehyun was showering, Johnny ordered three large pizzas using the phone on the nightstand.  

You lay down on the large, lumpy mattress a few minutes later, grabbing the remote and turning on the small, ancient TV across the room. The bed was lower than what the average bed was for some reason, and you suspected that the frame had broken at some point, and that the motel either didn’t know or didn’t care.

Regardless of how the mattress felt, your eyes started to droop despite flicking through the channels. You could feel your mind start to relax as you let go of your driver mindset, releasing pent up tension and alertness. Johnny turned to face the TV, sparing you a glance with his eyebrows raised.

“The news?”

“You know it, big boy."

He stalked over to where you were and plopped himself down to sit next to you, not hesitating to pull you into his lap. You smiled as he wrapped his hands around your waist, large hands spanning across your skin easily. The TV, now stuck on a channel showing some melodramatic Mexican telenovela, seemed to fade into the background.

"You did so well, today, baby,” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “We all did really good.”

You smiled softly at his gentleness, hands meeting his on your waist, before turning your head enough to meet his gaze, nose brushing against his. His big, brown eyes were hooded, whether from tiredness or admiration of your features, you weren’t sure, but you gave it no further thought once he pressed his lips to yours.

His lips were slightly chapped, and you made a mental note to nag him later to drink more water. One of his hands came to brush some hair out of your face, and you became hyper-aware of each of his movements.

“Hmm, Johnny…"

"Shh, baby girl, let me kiss you a little bit more.”

When his lips came back to yours, his movements became more aggressive, pushing his tongue into your mouth as his grip on your waist tightened. Your breath hitched as you sucked on his tongue, whining softly against his mouth.

“Fuck,” you heard Jaehyun groan from the other side of the room, and Johnny pulled away before you could protest. Your eyes cracked open, hooded eyes finding Jaehyun bathed in warm light from the bathroom. His hair was still kind of damp and he hadn’t bothered buttoning his shirt up.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Johnny greeted, and you bit your lip at the teasing lilt in his tone, “Care to join us?"

"I was gonna wait until after dinner,” Jaehyun said, setting his towel on one of the chairs in the room, “But if you insist…”

“Jae,” You called, voice soft, “Come here, pretty boy.”

Jaehyun smiled as he approached you, standing right in front of you and Johnny, who had now started pressing kisses against your neck. “You want a kiss, princess?”

You nodded as best you could with Johnny sucking on your neck, pouting up at Jaehyun, who in return leaned down and grasped your face before pulling you into a kiss. He tasted like the watermelon bubblegum he always carried around in his pocket. One of your hands came up to comb through his wet, brown hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and he groaned quietly against your lips.

“You’re both so hot,” Johnny murmured against your ear, and you whined at his deep voice, both you and Jaehyun pulling away to look at him, the two of you evidently affected by what he was saying.

To say Johnny was the leader of your relationship was a bit of an understatement. Johnny was the mastermind behind most of your heists, and commanded a presence over both you and Jaehyun, wherever you were. Where Johnny went, you and Jaehyun followed with few objections, trailing behind him like ducklings. Johnny, in return, accepted his more dominant role easily, and did his best to take care of you both.

Sometimes, you wondered if your upbringings influenced the dynamics of your relationship. Maybe Johnny was  eager to dominate the both of you because he was raised under strict, controlling parents dictating his every move and treating him as their little puppet. Jaehyun submitting to Johnny, but not to you, out of the need to please as a kid who had been emotionally neglected but forced to live up to his family’s expectations. And you, submitting to both of them because you were forced to take care of yourself and your parents from a young age when it should have been the other way around.

The moment was broken by a knock at the door, the three of you immediately tensing up. “It’s just the pizza guy,” Jaehyun whispered in reassurance, taking a deep breath, but it didn’t do much to calm your nerves.

“Jae,” Johnny said, nodding toward him, looking alert, “Look through the peephole first. Wait for me.”

Jaehyun nodded, standing slowly. You were taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep yourself calm, but the possibilities of it being anyone but the pizza guy were causing your heart to beat into overdrive. LA police. Nevada police. State troopers. The FBI. Those weird Hungarian guys Jaehyun pissed off a few months ago. Suddenly it was all of them, waiting to burst into the room and take your family away from you.  

Johnny set you down on the bed, flashing you a soft look before pulling the back of his button up to reveal a gun hiding in the waistband of his pants, putting a hand on the grip, just in case. You stood, watching as Jaehyun slowly approached the door to look through the peephole, his eyes dark and eyebrows furrowed, heart pounding in your chest. He shut one eye, looking through the small hole in the door, before allowing his shoulders to slump a moment later, and giving you both a thumbs up.

Coast clear.

You sighed in relief, sitting back down on the bed as Jaehyun stepped away from the door. Johnny handed Jaehyun his gun, pulling out his wallet from the pocket of his pants, and swung open the door, beginning a casual discussion with the delivery man as he pulled some money out of his wallet, before grabbing the pizzas and telling the guy to keep the change.

He closed the door, waiting a few seconds before sighing in relief as well and slumping against it.

“Jesus fuck, that’s one way to kill a boner,” He muttered, looking up as Jaehyun set down the gun on the nightstand.

“Y/N, you should have seen your face,” The younger man said while he stifled a laugh, coming closer to wrap his arms around you, and you huffed.

“Fuck off,” You told him, rejecting his embrace, and pouted, “I was genuinely about to piss myself.”

Jaehyun laughed again, and you retaliated by punching him in the arm, but not too hard, but he still grabbed your hand and pulled you towards Johnny, who had since set the pizzas down on the desk and locked the door again. He opened a box and grabbed a slice, and your spat with Jaehyun was forgotten, especially after having been on the road for over eight hours without stopping to eat.

Jaehyun grabbed another slice, eagerly taking a large bite before his eyes turned to the TV, which was still playing the Mexican telenovela. He raised an eyebrow after a few moments.

“Why are we watching Pasión de Gavilanes?” He asked, reading the name of the show as it cut to a commercial break.

“I was looking for the news,” You replied, giving Johnny a sideways glance, “But someone had other ideas.”

Johnny shrugged, already on his second slice of pizza. “You didn’t seem to mind,” He said after swallowing his food, eyes alight with mischief. You rolled your eyes, but didn’t deny him, and watched as he walked back to the bed, where the remote lay abandoned. He began switching through the channels until he finally stumbled upon the nine o’clock news report on a random channel, and the three of you quietly made your way towards the bed, all three of you waiting for the exact same thing.

And when it came, it was amazing. You were the main story, the breaking news of the armed robbery that had occurred in one of the safest parts of the city.

The three of you huddled together, occasionally getting up to pick up more slices of pizza, all relishing in having your egos stroked as the reporters all went over the details of the heist, how, when the police searched the getaway car (which had been mysteriously abandoned), no trace of any of the thieves were found, that any and all fingerprints didn’t match with any already registered in the LAPD’s database.

“The FBI has already involved itself in the investigation, believing this is the work of the same perpetrators as the Municipal Bank of Santa Monica six months ago, where two assailants…” The female reporter faded into the background, and you nodded to yourself, finishing your pizza happily. You peeked over at Jaehyun, who had a smug look on his face, satisfaction evident. You looked back to the TV as the scene changed, ignoring Johnny as he shifted next to you.

“We have no way  to identify the perpetrators,” A representative for the FBI explained, “All we know is that the suspects are two males, both taller than six feet, and a female of unknown stature. All are believed to be between early and mid 20s.”

You zoned out for the rest of the report, content at both the fullness in your stomach and the lack of evidence the police had against you, before feeling Johnny shift next to you again. You furrowed your eyebrows, turning your head to look at him, only to raise your eyebrows as you realized what was going on.

Your eyes looked down to Johnny’s hand, which had drifted to between Jaehyun’s legs. Jaehyun was slumped against Johnny’s side, panting quietly as Johnny’s hand groped him roughly. Johnny’s gaze met yours, dark eyes twinkling.

“And to think he told us off for not being able to wait,” He murmured, and Jaehyun hummed at the deep roll of his voice. “Come on, princess. Help me make him feel good.”

You nodded, knowing better than to disobey Johnny when he got like this. You lowered yourself to your knees, crawling towards Jaehyun. Johnny moved again, this time sitting behind Jaehyun so he could begin to unbutton Jaehyun’s shirt. You placed yourself in between Jaehyun’s legs, hands coming up to touch the tent in his white shorts.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” You sighed, reaching to unzip his pants. Jaehyun looked down at you, face flushed, but eyes still burning with lust. “That desperate, baby?”

“For you two, always,” You answered quietly, pulling his pants down as he wiggled his hips. Johnny slid the button up down the younger man’s arms, leaving Jaehyun in black boxers. You glanced at Johnny, who was kissing the back of Jaehyun’s neck, big hands sliding up and down Jaehyun’s toned torso, purposely avoiding the metal studs embedded in Jaehyun’s nipples, something you knew Jaehyun loved for Johnny to play with. You bit your lip, not missing  the fact that Johnny was rocking his hips steadily against Jaehyun’s.

You eyed the bulge in Jaehyun’s boxers hungrily, feeling your core heat up at the thought of what was to come, before pulling down the garment and freeing Jaehyun’s dick. He hummed at the feeling, and you didn’t hesitate to wrap a hand around it.

Jaehyun’s head fell back, breath hitching as you pressed a kiss to his tip, and Johnny chose that moment to tug on the piercings. “Fuck, John,” He muttered, eyes squeezing shut.

“Don’t be mean, pretty boy,” Johnny cooed, fingers flicking the nubs incessantly, “Y/N’s helping you out too, don’t ignore her.”

“Y-Y/N—Shit, baby, nngh…”

You smiled at his whine, before taking his tip into your mouth, Jaehyun’s hips instinctually moving to thrust into your mouth. Your hand moved to stroke what you couldn’t fit into your mouth, listening to Johnny whisper filth into Jaehyun’s ear, not letting up his fingers, despite Jaehyun’s squirming.

His pretty face was flushed, letting out soft moans as Johnny tugged on the metal and pressed open mouthed kisses against his neck. You closed your eyes, focusing on hollowing your cheeks and making him feel good. He hissed when he hit the back of your throat, and your eyes opened as you forced yourself not to gag. Drool was pooling in your mouth, threatening to spill down your chin.

“She’s so pretty like this, John…” Jaehyun’s voice sounded breathless as his hands wound into your hair, keeping it out of your face. Your eyes screwed shut, whining quietly at his praise.

"She’s fucking gorgeous when she’s sucking cock,” Johnny growled against Jaehyun’s neck, voice guttural and dangerous, “And she loves it. Isn’t that right, princess?”

Jaehyun’s hand tightened against your scalp, trying to pull you off of his cock. “Give him an answer, baby girl.”

You pulled away from him, hand still gripping his shaft, still pumping slowly. You gasped for air, and the spit that had been gathering in your mouth spilled onto your chin, and they both groaned in unison at the sight. “I love it, John,” You murmured, meeting his dark stare. “Baby, you’re both so big, you both stretch me out so good.”

Jaehyun groaned again, and Johnny hummed, pressing a kiss to Jaehyun’s temple before he stood from the bed. He pulled you up on top of the bed with them, pulling you into his lap. You wrapped your legs around his waist, smiling to yourself as you felt something hard poking at your core. “Jae,” Johnny hummed, and Jaehyun shuffled over to meet you both.

“Spit in her mouth,” Johnny ordered quietly, and you whimpered in delight. Jaehyun looked at you with mischief in his eyes, before grabbing your chin. Your mouth fell open without need for an order, and he pressed his nose against yours. Then he opened his mouth, and you moaned when his spit fell onto your tongue.

“Don’t swallow yet, princess.” Johnny’s voice was deep, dark, and you knew he was thoroughly enjoying watching the both of you. You kept your mouth open, as one of his hands came to hold the back of your neck, drawing him closer to you. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, before opening his mouth and spitting in yours as well.

His eyes never left yours the entire time, nearly black with desire. His face was flushed, and the hand on your neck was hot.

“Swallow,” He growled against your mouth, and you couldn’t bring yourself to disobey. When you opened your mouth to show him how good you were being, he groaned and pressed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Your hands busied themselves unbuttoning his shirt, while his hands groped your ass, forcing you to grind against him. You moaned his name, and his tongue found itself into your mouth, taking the lead of the wet, messy kiss.

Your mind was quickly hazing up at the feeling of Johnny’s clothed cock rubbing against you through your denim shorts, but you still picked up on the sounds of skin against skin and panting coming from your left. You pulled away from Johnny’s lips to look towards Jaehyun. Johnny took this chance to tug your shirt off, leaving you in a plain purple bra. Your breath caught in your throat when your eyes fell to Jaehyun’s hands, Johnny’s lips trailing down to the skin of your collarbones.

Jaehyun had one hand stroking himself at a steady pace, the other wrapped around the base of his cock, as if he were trying to stave off an incoming orgasm. He was watching the both of you with eyes darker than the Mojave desert in the middle of the night.

“Jae,” You whined, breathless against Johnny’s frame, “C’mere and kiss me, baby.”

“Yeah?” Jae answered, just as breathless as you, quirking an eyebrow up, “You want me, needy baby?”

You nodded in response, one hand reaching out to him. He leaned forward again, and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips landed against yours.

Jaehyun’s kisses were so different from Johnny’s. Jaehyun was gentler, but he didn’t need to tease you by letting you dominate the kiss and then taking over. No, Jaehyun dominated the kiss from the beginning, plump lips sliding against yours, hands leaving his cock to caress your sides, brushing over Johnny’s hands very briefly. Then, they moved to your back, unclipping your bra and discarding it somewhere on the bed.

He pulled away from your lips, and Johnny, who had been sucking a purple mark into your shoulder, did the same. You noted that all of your chests were heaving. Johnny’s hands were still moving your hips against his, and the pleasure left your mind reeling.

“You close, princess?” Jaehyun asked, and you shook your head. “N-not yet, but… s-soon.”

“Look at how pretty our baby girl is, Jaehyun,” Johnny murmured,  dark eyes glittering in adoration as he watched your hips speed up of their own accord, rutting against him like a mindless animal. Jaehyun hummed in agreement, leaning his head against Johnny’s shoulder. Your head tipped back, unable to handle both of them looking at you, looking through you, as you fell apart on Johnny’s lap.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. So good for us, baby girl.”

By now, the fabric of your shorts and your panties against your core were starting to feel uncomfortable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were so lost in hazy pleasure, head swimming with nothing but thoughts of your two lovers. Your hands linked around Johnny’s neck, trying to find something to tether yourself to the mortal world, because you were certain that if you didn’t, you would float off into space, never to be seen again.

“Ah, f-fuck,” You said, “L-love you both so much…”

Jaehyun’s hand caressed your neck, before coming to caress your cheek. He moved your head as well, forcing you to meet his eyes. His eyes were warm, clouded with desire. Your gaze flickered between his face and Johnny’s, and you whined again. They were watching you wordlessly, in a way that made you feel safe, loved, needed, and even though it’d been about a year and a half since they started looking at you like that, it never failed to make your head spin in love and arousal.  

Johnny let loose a lazy smile at your words, hips bucking against your own. “We love you too, princess. You’re so sweet, do you wanna come soon?”

You nodded desperately, opening your mouth to answer but moaning instead when Johnny pressed you down even more against his cock. They both laughed at your noise, and you just had to laugh along with them.

The laughter died down a few moments later, and you felt yourself dangling over the edge. You just needed one little push, and a little push is what you got when Jaehyun turned his face to Johnny, and the older man met him for a kiss. Johnny growled against Jaehyun’s lips, biting down on his lower lip, and Jaehyun’s hand ran through Johnny’s hair, now sweaty and damp.

The sight of your lovers making out in front of you tipped you over the edge. Your eyes screwing shut, their names and profanities spilling from your mouth, moaning as the pleasure started in your hands and feet, before spreading up your arms and legs and taking over your body. Your hips didn’t stop moving, seemingly having a mind of your own, trying to draw out your orgasm as you clenched around nothing. All too soon, the sensation washed away, leaving you pliant and breathless in Johnny’s arms.

Your eyes opened to find that they hadn’t exactly broken away. They’d stopped kissing to pay attention to you, but they were still close enough for each other’s lips to remain against their own. When they finally separated, a small trail of spit connected their lower lips.

“That was so hot,” Johnny groaned, pressing your head against his chest, which was now bare, somehow. Jaehyun must have slipped off his shirt at some point without you noticing, you concluded in your frazzled state of mind. You closed your eyes as you allowed your breathing to return to normal, vaguely aware of your boys kissing each other a bit more.

“How are you doing, princess?” Jaehyun said once you had calmed down, no longer panting. His hand was caressing your side up and down, almost as if he was comforting you. You straightened your posture to look up at him and Johnny, giving them a soft, sleepy smile. Johnny’s big hands squeezed your hips as he spoke. “You wanna stop, or do you wanna keep going?”

You nodded, brushing away a damp strand of hair that was in your face. “I still haven’t gotten fucked by either of you,” You mumbled, “What makes you think I’m stopping before that happens?”

The pair exchanged a dark glance, wicked smiles gracing their faces before looking back at you.

“Clothes off,” Jaehyun ordered, “Now.”

You moved off of Johnny, legs wobbling slightly, to lay down next to them. You popped the button on your shorts and pulled down the zipper, watching as Jaehyun undressed Johnny, doing the same with his shorts as he kissed down the older man’s neck. You were left in now ruined cotton panties, the drenched fabric clinging to your folds in an awkward way. Your eyes turned to the pair in front of you as Jaehyun pulled down Johnny’s boxers, leaving him naked as well. They faced you, and Johnny grabbed you by the ankle, dragging you towards them with a soft smile on his face. You laughed quietly, the noise dying when Jaehyun grabbed your other leg as well and parted them, before lying in between them, face inches away from your core.

“John, baby,” He said, craning his neck to stare at him, “Can I…?”

“Go ahead, pretty boy,” Johnny replied, as he lay next to you, “Y/N made you feel good earlier, and we need to get her ready for us, right? You can return the favor, can’t you?”

Jaehyun nodded, and Johnny raised an eyebrow as he moved to lie next to you. “Words, baby boy.”

Jaehyun gulped, hands resting on your hips. “Yes, John.”

His hands reached for your panties, his eyes meeting yours as he pressed a kiss to your thigh. Your hand brushed some sandy brown hair out of his eyes, and you hummed as you watched him pull down the last piece of clothing, discarding it. “Jae,” You mumbled, “You’re so pretty, baby.”

Jaehyun smiled, the tips of his ears turning red. It had taken you a few weeks for you to put it together when you started dating, but you eventually figured out that Jaehyun loved getting praised. Anytime you or Johnny said something about how good or handsome he was, how nice he made either of you feel, he’d turn to putty in your hands.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders, his face close to where you needed him most but did nothing. He was riling you up, you knew he was. He loved to do this, loved to wait how long he could wait before making you beg. “Babe,” You murmured, “Jae, please don’t tease me.”

His eyes twinkled with something you couldn’t read as he pressed another kiss to your thigh, big, rough hands gripping your hips possessively. “You beg so nicely, princess. How could I refuse?”

He lowered his mouth to your hole, and your eyes squeezed shut, hissing out at the sensitivity. Johnny pressed a kiss to your forehead. The hand that wasn’t tugging on Jaehyun’s hair shot out to grasp Johnny’s forearm. Johnny responded by grabbing your hand and guiding it to his cock, and you obeyed his silent command by wrapping your hand around him, pumping him slowly.

You could hear his breathing right next to your ear, combined with the wet sounds Jaehyun was making as he mouthed along your slit. You weren’t sure what to focus on, letting out a high keen as Jaehyun slid a finger inside of you, his mouth coming up to suckle on your clit.

“Ah, Jaehyun, baby,” You whined, hips trying to move, but being stopped by Jaehyun’s other hand, “F-feels so good.”

Jaehyun hummed against your clit, the vibration causing you to squirm even further, crying out his name. Already you could feel the familiar sensation in your lower stomach again, forcing you to focus on Jaehyun’s mouth, alternating between sucking your clit and flicking it with the tip of your tongue.

“You like how he’s making you feel, baby girl?” Johnny asked a few moments later, and you nodded as he pressed his forehead against your temple to whisper into your ear. “You like the way he’s being a good boy and eating your pussy like he’s starving?”

You nodded again, whining even louder when Jaehyun added a second finger. Johnny’s hand rose to your breast, teasing your nipple as your head fell back, hand falling into a sloppy rhythm against Johnny’s cock. He pinched harshly, and you tried to move away from his grip, but he wouldn’t let you. “Neither of you seem to want to use your words today, huh? Come on, princess, tell Jaehyun how much you like it.”

You opened your mouth, trying to speak, but shrieking when Jaehyun’s fingers began to thrust into you at a rapid pace. Your hips were bucking wildly against Jaehyun’s mouth and fingers now, despite his best efforts to hold you down.

“J-Jae, fuck, fuck, fuck… Ah, your fingers are s-so big… They’re fucking me so good, I-I’m so sensitive, I don’t think I can h-hold on much longer…”

“Aw, already?” Jaehyun teased from between your legs, fingers not letting up as he slowed down their pace, “It’s only been a few minutes.”

“Jaehyun,” You whined, grasp tightening on his hair, “I’m gonna come, p-please…”

“No.”

Your eyes shot open to glare at Johnny, breathing heavily as Jaehyun removed his fingers from your aching core, and your hand stopped its movement against Johnny’s dick. “Why not?” You whined, and Johnny sat up, propping himself against the faded maroon headboard of the bed.

“Because you’re not cumming again until both of us have.” His tone was stern, leaving no room for argument. His gaze, however, was warm. “Now, what’s gonna happen is this: you’re gonna get on your hands and knees, and pretty boy over there is gonna fuck you from behind, and you’re gonna let me fuck your face. Can you two do that for me?”

He was giving both you and Jaehyun the chance to drop it now, disguised under the illusion of a command. But you didn’t want to stop. You rarely did when it came to your boyfriends.

“Yes, John,” You and Jaehyun answered at the same time, looking at him. Johnny grinned, patting his thighs with both hands.

“Come here, Y/N. Hands and knees, like I said.”

You crawled over to him, eyes not leaving Johnny’s face. His dark eyes followed yours, face covered with a light sheen of sweat, hair brushed back to reveal his forehead. You leaned forward when you got to the spot where he ordered you to be, pressing a kiss to his jawline. Your mouth trailed down to his neck, smiling against his skin when you heard him sigh in satisfaction.

You felt the bed shift as Jaehyun came to kneel behind you, hands trailing down your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your kisses trailed down Johnny’s tan skin, past his collarbones, across his pecs, down his stomach, ghosting along his right hip. Your lips left his skin as Jaehyun gripped your hip with one hand, using his hand to grind his dick against your soaking folds.

“You want me to put it in, baby?” Jaehyun asked you, and you nodded without hesitating, your face heating at your desperation. “Yes, Jae.”

“Suck Johnny’s dick and I’ll do whatever you want, lovely girl.”

His words were accompanied by Johnny’s hands touching the back of your neck, not pushing, but still commanding a certain power over you, still compelling you to lower yourself onto his cock.

One thing you’d learned very early on from having sex with both Johnny and Jaehyun, you thought as you let your mouth relax around Johnny’s dick, was that they were both bigger than the past lays you’d had. Jaehyun was a bit longer, but Johnny was thicker. Regardless, they both had the power to leave your legs shaking, and your throat scratchy for days.

Once you’d allowed your jaw to loosen enough, you began bobbing your head up and down slowly, tonguing along the underside of the shaft. Your hands held you up, grasping Johnny’s toned thighs for support. A rush came through you as you realized that those thighs were what had made you come earlier, and that helped you push Johnny even further down your throat.

A groan bubbled out of Johnny’s throat, and Jaehyun took that as his sign to push into you. You moaned against Johnny, and his groan got louder, hands pushing you even further against Johnny’s pelvis. You held back the urge to gag, forcing yourself to focus on breathing through your nose despite the intrusion in your mouth.  

Jaehyun’s movements started slow, letting you get used to the both of them fucking into you from both ends. He let out a low hiss as you clenched around him, hips grinding against you in a way that had you seeing stars.

It was as if they were connected telepathically, something unspoken between the two of them that always confused and amused you. You felt the amusement again as they both sped up the movements of their hips at the same time, a gradual buildup from teasing, subtle grinding, to harsh bucks of the hips, fucking in and out of you as if you were their own little tool for pleasure, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Any noises that left you were either muffled shrieks of pleasure as Jaehyun pounded away at your still sensitive pussy, or gagging noises, as Johnny’s hands forced you up and down his cock, bottoming out into your throat whenever he wanted to prolong little bursts of ecstasy. Tears were running down your face as he did so, and when he noticed, he let out a strained laugh.

“Hey, baby girl, are you crying because of my dick or Jaehyun’s?”

He pulled you off of him, and you took the chance to catch your breath before answering a few seconds later.

“B-both,” You moaned, and Jaehyun grunted in acknowledgement.

“Good,” He hummed, and you bit your lip as you fucked back against him, “Using our little girl like this feels so nice, doesn’t it, Johnny?”

“It feels fucking fantastic, pretty boy,” Johnny answered as you craned your neck to kiss along his shaft, “She’s so small, but she takes us both like a fucking champ. Maybe next time we should stuff her pussy and her ass at the same time… would you like that, angel?”

You cried out enthusiastically, stomach twisting at the suggestion. Jaehyun threw his head back, letting out a guttural groan.

“Oh, she’d love that, baby. You should’ve felt how much tighter she got when you said that.”

Johnny grinned, and lifted you off of his cock one more time.

“Hey, Y/N,” He said, lifting your chin to get you to look at him.

“H-hey, Johnny,” You whimpered, and Johnny pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Get off his dick, princess,” He told you, loud enough for Jaehyun to hear, “I’ve got an idea.”

Jaehyun stopped his movements, pulling out of you. You whined at the sudden emptiness, and Johnny patted your head to calm you before standing. Given that the bed frame was a lot lower than most beds, it allowed him to tower over both you and Jaehyun as Johnny propped the younger man up, then told you to sit in his lap, letting Jaehyun slide back inside of you.

“I wanna watch you both,” He murmured lovingly, carding a hand through Jaehyun’s hair, who hummed happily. Your mind was turning fuzzy fast, clinging to Jaehyun and pressing soft kisses to his jaw.

“Can we still touch you, Johnny?” You asked, voice small, flashing him big, pouty eyes that he could seldom refuse as he sat back down at where he once was.

Johnny nodded, his hand moving to your head and repeating the movement he’d made on Jaehyun’s head. “Of course you can, baby,” He answered, “But you’ll do it when I say so and how I tell you to do it. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Johnny.”

“Okay.”

Johnny smiled at the both of you, and slowly Jaehyun began his rhythm again, fucking in and out of you slowly, before speeding up again. Your lips trailed down to his neck, sucking on a spot you wanted to leave a mark on, and your hands came up to toy with his nipple piercings, mimicking what Johnny had been doing to him earlier.

Jaehyun groaned, eyebrows furrowing and eyes fluttering shut as you began to move with him and tug at the piercings. He turned his head to lock eyes with Johnny, who was stroking himself as he watched the two of you gradually lose control against each other’s body. The two held each other’s gaze, Jaehyun’s eyes lowering first as he pressed a kiss to your  sweaty forehead.

“John,” Jaehyun pleaded, voice deep and teasing, “Come here, daddy, I wanna jack you off.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. You and Jaehyun only brought out daddy when you wanted to be little shits to him and tease him more than usual. Nevertheless, he relented, standing and walking around the bed. Your eyes peeled open a few moments later, finding Johnny standing to the side of you, cock being stroked by Jaehyun as he continued to roll his hips into you.

Given that the bed was lower than usual, and Johnny was freakishly tall, his dick was more or less level with your faces, and through the hazy pleasure of Jaehyun pounding away at you, you got an idea.

You leaned slightly to the side, pressing a kiss to the head of Johnny’s member, and Johnny groaned as he realized what you wanted to do. Jaehyun seemed to like the idea, his hips fucking into you even faster once he registered what was going on.

Johnny used his knees to lean against the mattress, allowing you to lean back into your original position as he tipped his head back.

“Our dirty girl,” Johnny hissed, “You want cock so bad, don’t you? Can’t handle just one fucking you, you need another one down your throat.”

Jaehyun pulled you off of him. “Give him an answer, sweetheart,” He ordered, before taking your place and taking Johnny into his mouth.

“I’m yours,” You told them, “Want you both all day, all night, ngh, always… I love you both s-so much, I can’t handle not being fucked like this ever again…”

“You belong to us now, baby. We own you, body and soul.” Johnny’s voice was slightly strained now, but his words still held the same effect. You were eager to agree, unable to say anything as Jaehyun hit the one spot inside of you that had you crying out his name.

“Fuck, Jae! Right there!”

Jaehyun pulled off of Johnny’s cock, pulling you into a bruising kiss as he continued to hit your sweet spot time and time again.

“Yeah, you’re gonna cum again soon?” Jaehyun asked when he pulled away, and you nodded, before turning to Johnny and taking him into your mouth again.

“Don’t forget, princess,” Johnny said, “You can’t cum until either of us have. Understood?”

You nodded, trying to hold off the impending wave that was soon to crash on you.

“I’m so fucking close, Johnny,” Jaehyun mumbled, and Johnny gave a garbled agreement when Jaehyun’s free hand came up to stroke along with your hand.

“Me too, baby,” Johnny groaned, “You gonna fill Y/N up? Cum inside that tight pussy of hers?”

Your legs wrapped around Jaehyun’s waist, before you pulled your mouth away from Johnny, opting to stroke him as Jaehyun took him into his mouth once more.

“Give it to me, Jae,” You begged, voice shaky.

Johnny came first with a loud, “Fuck!” He watched as you and Jaehyun took turns licking away the cum as it shot out of the tip of his dick, tongues meeting occasionally as you both mouthed along the head.

“Shit, you’re both so good to me.”

Jaehyun’s orgasm came moments later. He buried his face in your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist as his pace turned sloppy and sporadic, filling you with hot cum as he groaned out both your name and Johnny’s. You whimpered at the sensitivity of your insides as he twitched against your walls, painting them white, but you didn’t stop bouncing in his lap.

“Y-you both came,” You moaned, desperate to cum. You could see on Jaehyun’s face that he was growing sensitive as well, but his hands on your waist weren’t stopping you at all. “Please let me cum, I’ve been a good girl…”

Johnny sat behind you, letting your head roll onto his shoulder. One hand wrapped around your neck, not squeezing, but still tight enough to send a thrill down your spine. “Yeah, you’ve been really well behaved tonight, baby. You weren’t as bratty as you usually are, hmm?”

You couldn’t answer, not when his other hand reached down to tap away at your swollen clit.

“J-John, ah—”

“You wanna cum, baby girl?”

You nodded, eyes squeezing shut as your hips took on a mind of their own.

“Then cum, sweetheart.”

And somehow, his deep, warm voice triggered your orgasm.

You threw your head back, almost positive that what you were speaking in tongues rather than actually saying anything coherent. You clung onto Jaehyun with one hand, writhing in his hold, and reached back to grip Johnny’s bicep. Beneath your eyelids, colors danced around you. You were certain this was what heaven felt like, and that this was some sort of divine ascension…

Verona, Nevada, 10:06 PM

When you managed to come down, you felt groggy, and your vision felt hazy, as if you were in a dream.  The only sound came from the three of you, breathing heavily as you recovered from what had just happened. The room smelled like sex, sweat, and oddly enough, greasy pizza.

“Y/N?” Jaehyun murmured, “You still with us?"

You nodded, trying to ignore the scratchiness in your throat. "Yeah… ‘m good. Came really hard.”

Johnny chuckled from behind you, before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Certainly looked like it, baby.”

You smiled, eyes drooping already at the tiredness you were beginning to feel.  

You settled down between the two of them, ignoring the smell of sweat emanating from the three of you all together. Yes, you loved being like this, sandwiched between your two favorite people, but you couldn’t deny that the body heat radiating from everyone, plus slight tackiness of sweaty skin against more sweaty skin made you want to cringe. And as much as you loved the idea of Jaehyun’s cum staying inside of you, it was slowly beginning to trickle down your thigh, further contributing to your growing discomfort.

“I need to shower,” You finally mumbled, rubbing your eyes sleepily, before pouting. Looking around the motel room, you noted that it was dingy enough, you didn’t want to imagine the bathroom. “How bad is the bathroom?”

Jaehyun groaned, hand coming to rub at his forehead in disdain.

“Oh, it’s fuckin’ nasty.”

“...Shit.”

[tema-makes-art-sometimes]

002 for gercanmano please?

002 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

GerCanMano

when I started shipping it.

Maybe a year to two years ago? It’s hard to say I can’t really remember. I don’t know what sparked it, but either way I know it started with my friend Lemon. Either we were doing things with the BFT and I had made a joke about baby BFT with Romano, Germany and Canada and it just developed discussions from there. Or it was me struggling between the three proponent ships and Lemon being like ‘why don’t you just make them a poly’ and like sun coming out from behind the clouds it finally dawned on me by the power of citrus. Either way it was something I kept messing with, and the more I talked about it the more people hopped on board with me. We’re still just a raft in a sea of ships but I made this baby and I’m proud of it.

I will say I have had a lot of people talk to me like I made it, and while I do want to take some credit cause I put a lot of time into them, I have heard it used to be a ship back in the old hetalia days. But I haven’t found any old fanworks of it. And trust me I scoured every fic and art site I could think of. Maybe it was something only seen in RP groups so it never got published fic or art but I crave content for it so if it was originally a thing and there’s content around let me know please I don’t wanna take credit for it fully but I have not found another person who shipped it before they talked to me.

my thoughts:

Literally some of the only serotonin I get in these trying times. I love them so much they make me so happy. An unbelievably strong power house trio who could do damn near about anything together. They have it all.

I could go on for hours about small scenarios or aus with them. Like I’m a multi-shipper but fuck man they’re my OTP. I can and do ship other things with them, but man they make me melt with joy.

I made a playlist for it, I’m still building it but I like ti so far. I wish I could find more three person love songs but for now I have songs for each of the three lads, and the three ships that make up it, so it works! Might change some of them but I like what I have so far!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLC4nWN-9zrnEOeLgihkaqQOpPO6nEnc81

Germany and Romano: A Lovely Night and If I Could Tell Her

Romano and Canada: Best Worst Mistake

Canada and Germany: Guy That I’d Kind of Be Into

Germany General: When He Sees Me and Little Miss Perfect (President Perfect)

Romano General: I Won’t Say I’m in Love (so original I know)

Canada General: Would You Be So Kind? and Piece of Art

What makes me happy about them:

Literally everything. Their characters, the dynamics, the growth they create together. They may not work in every story of mine but when they work they really work. They push each member of the ship to grow as a person. Germany finding support he may not have originally had, Canada finding the confidence and support in a group that won’t forget him, Romano finally feeling safe enough to open up to others in a way he didn’t feel safe doing before. It’s just the good fucking food. You can put it in different settings and it just works, they’re able to play off one another in a really great way and pull them out of their comfort zones in ways that other ships don’t hit me as hard with.

What makes me sad about them:

That I am literally one of the only people who makes content for it. I have scoured the internet I can’t find anything, ANYTHING. And often I cannot get people to follow me on it, I’ve been getting more people on board slowly but surely but STILL-- That or they really try to push the whole ‘i ship it with (ship thats similar but with one of the brothers swapped out for the other)’ on me when I’m talking about it and I’m just like. I asked for GerCanMano I didn’t ask for your opinion. I’ve thought about the other ship conbo’s with their other brothers, I just like this one the best.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

When this ship is treated as a lesser to other ships around the three characters. People going like well I think it would be better if it was ‘swaps one of the brothers out for the other’ but that’s not the point. Also this is a general problem I have with Germano/GerCan as well but people making it all about their family’s or brothers reactions and how it effects their brothers instead of their relationship. ESPECIALLY between Romano and Italy.

It’s almost always a cheating on their ‘true love’ or some sort of affair fic and it doesn’t focus on their love and living together and more about them bouncing around to avoid getting caught and I just don’t care enough. I just want to see them in a loving happy relationship, and interacting with one another. Prussia, America’s and ESPECIALLY Italy’s reactions don’t matter to me. When it comes to say GerIta fics, there are a few that address Romano’s feelings toward Italy’s relationship, but not all of them. Hell some of them don’t have a mention or hair of Romano, but when the position is reversed with Germano suddenly even if he’s not in the fic it’s all about how Italy feels about it or how it effects him or hiding it from him.

I dont want to watch Germany go back and forth about which Italy brother he likes while dating both. It’s one just not in character and two its uncomfortable. I read this fic for the gercanmano Im not here to hear that Germany’s cheating on and warring with his feelings toward Italy or Canada sleeping around behind Prussia’s back. It’s boring and I’m tired of reading it. I’m digging into specifics of the three component ships cause there are no fanfics of GerCanMano so I can’t talk about what annoys in their base fics.

I had like one person write GerCanMano into their RusPrus fic, which was cool. but then they were a nazi apologist. So I can’t exactly read it anymore. I have nothing else to compare to but the base three ships of Germano, GerCan and Canmano

Things I look for in fanfic I don’t ask much I just want them to exist without me having to write all of them. I wanna find content other people have made, not that I’m lazy and think peopel should make content for me, just that I get bored of reading my own writing. If I wanna be really picky, letting it be a quickly established relationship and getting to see them in the relationship, learning about each other living together dealing with problems together that doesn’t just have them break up after one fight.

Having them in a functioning relationship before the story is over. Letting that relationship blossom past the start or the first date before the fic is finished. It’s sad when a romance story ends with them getting together cause there’s so much more relationship to have-- ;^; what about cooking together and cuddles on the couch and date nights and small fights and family gatherings--

My happily ever after for them:

It’s hard to write a happily ever after for nations or for anything to be honest cause life keeps going, growing, changing etc. But I’d love them to have a wedding and just a calm, slice of life kind of life together. A nice house, a big garden, a pond in the back where in the winter Germany and Canada can ice skate. A nice big garage where Germany and Romano can work on cars, Maybe near the woods so they can all go hiking,

Nothing fancy. A nice place that smells like warm coffee in the morning, that’s lively with sound of loved ones and shenanigans during the day and quiet whispers of affection at night. They get together but meetings are less boring, they have plans with their family and friends. Spain, France and Prussia loving to tease their little siblings/kids about things and make sure they’re doing okay. Veneziano always trying to help Romano come up with romantic shenanigans to use against his husbands. America just being happy his bro is happy.

Just soft wholesome life stuff. ;;

My kinks:

These are going below for discussions of not safe for work topics. I’m not going light so dive below at your own risk. (sex discussion, kink discussion, general ns//fw content)

I exclusively write top Canada. Like, I just do. I don’t really draw or write him taking it, I don’t know why I just don’t. Doesn’t mean he isn’t put under someone’s thumb in bed, but they’re still riding. There are very very few instances where I have written him taking. Again I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just the concept of soft pastel uwu boy slamming Germany into a wall, maybe it’s the thought of Canada in heels and leather just with the vibe of ‘go ahead tell them. no one will believe you’.

Canada isn’t any kinkier than Germany, but he’s more confident than Germany about it.  He’s got a little bit of jealous neediness in the back of his brain so when it comes to sex he loves when his partner’s attention is on him. He loves to spoil and get spoiled and is the roughest of the three. Just a tiny, tiny bit of masochism/sadism. Very small. It’s very much he’ll do it (with safe words set in place and everything) but he will feel eh about it afterward and make sure that they don’t take away that he hates them or anything. In the inverse hes very very good at fluffing people up and body worship, as well as demeaning talk. Loves role-playing, hence slipping into the mind where he’s got the confidence to throw Germany around the bedroom. He loves especially tying them up and just watching them writhe-

Germany is a switch, fight me on it. If you think that man who has very little canon confidence with romance and no experience is a 100% big daddy top you’re just wrong I’m not sorry. Mind you, he can top and he often does, but being rough and demanding and forceful is not something he’s good at he’s so nervous about injuring his partner, even if they tell him it’s fine.

Germany is into all the rough play, like it’s canon. He loves to tie and be tied up and he likes when power is taken away from him. He likes when people push him under their thumb it’s why Canada gets to be rough with him. But at the same time, Germany is the most wholesome lover out of the three. Because it can be so hard to coax him out of his shell with his kinks, he can often be the inverse. Very gentle, very praising. Absolutely loves to body worship his partners. He’s not really all that good or comfortable with giving people blow jobs, however he loves kisses and touches all over. Mind you getting a blowjob is something he really enjoys, hes just not good at giving. Good thing that both his boyfriends are amazing at it. Favorite thing the two do is Canada having Germany Ride him and then Matteo either riding him on top or giving him head during.

Romano oh, Romano. He’s a bottom. The most bottom-y bottom. An absolute pillow princess and a brat wanting to be tamed. He tops very very rarely, and out of the three has the most experience both giving and receiving and with all different partners. Even if he’s bottoming doesn’t mean he’s always at the whim of his partners though, he loves riding.

Romano is the least kinky out of the three, while the other two enjoy being tied up, Romano isn’t really a fan, he doesn’t mind collars or handcuffs but full shibari like what Canada or Germany would be fine with doesn't really fly for him. As I said before, he’s also the loudest, and gets very whiny when left to hang (not like either of them mind the noise). Romano loves giving and receiving blow jobs/hand jobs. Especially giving. It’s how he gets the good vibes of watching his partner squirm in the good way. He also loves to leave nibbles scratches bites and hickies if he’s allowed to. Catch him giving Germany a bite right above his collar before a meeting. Despite what might be expected, he can roll with degradation in bed really well but he falls apart quick with praise. He likes both but he will tear up when Germany gets overly gushy and feelsy.  Loves double penetration and being spit-roasted.

[ephemerlskies]

the eighth hour | ot7

⇢ pairing: hoseok x reader

[other members - namjoon, seokjin, and jimin]

⇢ genre: (long ass) one-shot, angst, partial fluff, thebreakfastclub!au, highschool!au, badboy!hoseok + fosterchild!hoseok, jock!jimin, nerd!namjoon, and seokjin as just your classic seokjin, childhoodfriends!au, friends to enemies to lovers

⇢ word count: 38.1k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, underage marijuana usage, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, themes of bullying, themes of depression/anxiety, mentions of mental abuse, cliché high school tropes, mutual pining (as always), homophobic themes, mentions of physical violence, mentions of explicit pictures

⇢ summary: who would have guessed that five separate events could converge into one shared Saturday detention? what emerged as an even bigger, yet pleasing surprise was the bonds that could form despite the contractual bindings of the high school cliques that you, jimin, namjoon, seokjin, and hoseok were assigned to.

♪ playlist: apple juice - jessie reyez • around - niki • ivy - frank ocean • friends - bts • dont you (forget about me - simple minds ♪

a/n: holy shit this was super fun to write!!! i was going to make this a series but instead i just impulse wrote this as a super long one shot. anyway i hope you enjoy! <3 also the playlist really does match the ~vibes~ so i hope y'all give it a listen :)

8:00 - 10:00

You blamed timing. It had been the only scapegoat to somewhat reconcile your seething frustration, though there was always that part of you that scorned your own poorly executed decisions. Maybe if you hadn’t stopped to say hi and discuss something as unimportant as the temperament of the weather with your teacher in passing, or if you didn’t skip your semi-weekly coffee, or if you hadn’t spent as much time inspecting the new flyers pinned onto the bulletin board then you could have avoided this conundrum. Timing, however, was completely out of your control, making it ideal to place blame on. That and the troublesome deviant who had you being held accountable for actions that were not of your own doing. 

Jung Hoseok. Your once childhood best friend turned bitter and drifted towards a life of immorality and mild misdemeanors due to his series of unexplained personal calamities. 

Even the nonverbal idea of his name had triggered aggressive animosity in you. Well, it felt like hatred; the burn in your chest whenever you thought of him felt like hatred, but you never dug deep enough to figure it out. 

It was shocking that you could feel this despise with such severity, but Hoseok had that particular quality about him that seemed to make anything possible, though you could never quite place what that quality was. And of course, your path intersected with his at the exact wrong time and the exact wrong place. That particular quality had drawn a treacherous curiosity to influence you to linger a few seconds too long, another poor decision of yours. To top it off, the exact wrong person had caught you in this perfectly timed and unfortunate situation and convicted you on the grounds of guilt by association to land you a Saturday detention. Mulling over these consecutive misdirections was punishment enough to drag you miserably through the rest of the week; the detention waiting for you at the end of it was simply the cherry on top.

 Apprehensive questions had always been your mom’s go-to tick when it came to you. The car ride to school had been flushed with them being that this was your first detention, let alone run-in with authority, in your entire academic career and your annoyance to her queries was more fuel added to the already monstrous fire of regret. This had produced some odd concoction of eagerness to escape this interrogation. Though you had no real desire to start this long day, your mom’s questions were the closest to giving a reason to that.

Your mother pulled up two blocks away from the library where you would be jailed for the next eight hours, and she packed in a few more questions to delay your departure. You and she sat in the car, marinating in the discomfort, waiting for the minutes to tick by until eight o’clock arrived. Your mother looked to you with pity and guilt as if she were delivering you to a slaughterhouse, not aiding to relieve the guilt of your own harbor.

“It’s just detention, Mom. It’s fine.” And you wished you believed it as much as you wanted her to. 

“Did I remember to pack the apple?” 

“Yes.”

“And the water bottle isn’t leaking anymore, right?” Her worried voice and demeanor had not been subtle in the slightest for this question had been asked about eight minutes ago in this same car ride.

“No, mom.” The bite in your response had warned her to relent her questions. 

“Okay, I’ll see you at four.”

“I’ll see you.”

“I love you, ___.”

“Love you.”

Stepping out of that car, finally escaping from the perpetual, suffocating questions had you identifying the crisp Winter air as a comfort. The fog decorating the school’s roof and treetops looked like it wouldn’t recede. It was abhorrent, not being able to get a glimpse of the sun before an epoch of detention stole your last few seconds of freedom. 

Your deep inhalations had formed a few puffs of clouds mixing with the surrounding fog, and you began to prepare entry into the penitentiary that others called the library. Your heart had been pounding from the momentum of frustration with your mom’s doting. However, it hadn’t ceased even when you parted ways because of the dread of facing Jung Hoseok once again. 

If the thought of his name was enough to send you into a hurricane-like rage, you couldn’t imagine what type of disastrous storm awaited you being confined with him for the next eight hours. 

The walk down these couple of blocks was paced intentionally to stall the beginning of this tortuous Saturday. Your strides had slowed substantially as they carried you down the halls of your high school, past the bulletin boards that hammered more guilt upon remembering that was one of the fatal mistakes that led you here, then past the school’s cafe that drilled the regret even deeper in your bones. 

As you approached the doors to the library, you gripped the cold handle until it grew warm from your hand. A bit of time to breathe, compose and mask your nerves granted you half an ounce of dignity needed to open the door and step through the threshold. You walked over to the two rows of three desks and exchanged a cordial glance with the school’s renown football star, Park Jimin, seated at the front right table, in a manner that disguised your guilt with indifference. Then, you settled in the seat at the table behind his, finding this the optimal place to draw the least amount of attention.

The quiet boy sitting in the back of the rows had reacted with a noticeable surprise to see your face in this setting. He looked as embarrassed to be here as you felt, however, while you refused to show it, he draped it on his expression with little to no restraint. Both of you did not bother with the formality of a nod or smile, but a simple acknowledgment for the lack of proper acquaintance. 

Though you had never had a personal interaction with him, you still knew his name to be Kim Namjoon and that he was characterized by everyone who knew him as the nerdiest kid in school. Quite a cliché, though you had no reason to think he was anything beyond that since his rounded eyeglasses and turtleneck sweater certainly upheld the truth in that stereotype.  

The remnants of your intruded sleep felt heavy in your eyes which numbed your endurance to stay awake. Soon after the bothersome exhaustion almost conquered you into a sleep, a disarrayed body had fumbled through the doors snapping the heads of you, Jimin, and Namjoon towards him. He stood in front of the door, glancing back to it as if he were considering a swift escape from the concerned glares and embarrassment of the scene he had just made. And though there had only been three others to witness the progression of him rattling the handles, pushing against it with just enough force to unbalance him, and then nearly tripping into the eyes of his peers, it had been just enough to elicit a sizable amount of anxiety.

“Sorry, the door um…” He gestured towards it then towards the handle, then after bringing that same hand to his head to itch away his nervousness, “the door was jammed.”

None of you sitting in that book-filled jail cell cared, much less wanted to know the reason he barged in to interrupt the silence, but the way he fumbled through his words had been far too interesting and entirely ineffective in dismissing the unwanted attention. 

Jimin had found this particularly amusing as he choked down a few laughs as not to raze the other boy’s ego completely, but his efforts had just drawn more awareness that he was laughing at him. The lanky figure with red-tinted ears and cheeks scuttled with a low hanging head to the front table, next to the one Jimin was seated at, without another word as to avoid further demoting his dignity.

Dignity was a funny thing to everyone in the library. It was handled differently by each body during this Saturday detention. Some were trying to protect it, some had paid no mind to tend to it, some (you) were trying to pretend it was undisturbed, and one had felt the weight of his diminishing dignity as no heavier than a feather.

This one, the same one that tormented you with his mere existence, had shoved the door out of his way in a manner of excitement. He strutted through the room to suggest he had some sort of twisted pride to be here and that his dignity fluctuated from the various looks of disgust, annoyance, confusion, and attraction. 

Hoseok didn’t offer you more than a glance, although the scan of his eyes could hardly be counted as any sort of acknowledgment. In fact, he glared longer at Namjoon who had done everything in his power to surrender any dominance, already in scarce supply, and appear meek to avoid an altercation with Hoseok. 

The other boy, Kim Seokjin, who had previously made a fool of himself, waved at Hoseok expecting to make a quick friend through his naive opportunism. Hoseok responded by lurching forward with his fist raised level with his shoulder in an advancement of hostility. Despite Hoseok being about ten feet away from him and in no realistic position to actually hit him, Seokjin flinched. His juvenile bullying proved to be ineptly humorous to everyone else in the library, except Seokjin who successfully lodged himself deeper in embarrassment.

For some reason, you were agitated that everyone else’s presence but your own was enough to earn his attention. It was beyond reason to want this man’s eyes to meet yours, and yet when it failed to do so, there was an unmistakable disappointment sitting in the place where you wanted Hoseok to look. 

You knew it stemmed from the unsatisfied hope that he wouldn’t act like he didn’t know you once, that maybe he’d let the guarded past seep through and guide his eyes to rest on you gently, as they often used to do. But what did that matter? You hated him.

There was some shame that followed how you counted yourself lucky that he sat at the desk right behind you, giving you a perfect trajectory to shoot him a snide look. You hoped it would arouse guilt that he had been the reason you were here and that he couldn’t even present the decency of proper eye contact, though he most likely found it flattering from the way his lower lip slid between his teeth and a twisted grin formed. The quick avert of his wandering eyes had replaced the heat rising in your body with more disappointment.

“Hey, tool.” The voice behind you passed over your head to the target sitting in front of you. Jimin turned back to assure Hoseok was audacious enough to call him that name, “Yeah, I’m talking to you.”

“What do you want, dickhead?” Jimin had been over this conversation before it even began, but he still played into Hoseok’s little game. He too had succumbed to that particular quality of Hoseok’s that had many people wanting to argue with him. Nowadays, it seemed to be the only way to get a bit of his attention. 

“Ooh, dickhead.” Hoseok’s low scoff had interrupted him momentarily, and the toss of his feet on top of the desk and lean in his chair drained a bit of suspenseful tension into the air, “Those are big boy words. Someone’s been drinking their big boy juice!” His voice was caked in a sharp taunt that had Jimin’s fists contracting into themselves, leaving crescent-shaped dents in his palms from his fingernails.

“What’s your problem, dude? Just leave me alone. I didn’t even say anything to you.” Turning his body to face away was not nearly enough to evade Hoseok’s mission of infuriating Jimin just for the hell of it. 

The boy, layered in a black leather jacket over a red flannel, mounted the desk and jumped onto yours then Jimin’s with a racket of stomps that echoed between the shelves of books. You looked over to the spot on your table where his foot landed, grimacing at the dirt residue of his shoe print and the whiff of nicotine Hoseok left in his wake. Your attention, along with Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s, was soon shifting over to Hoseok who slumped into the chair beside Jimin, all in deep anticipation of what the delinquent would do next. 

Your focus was trained on his fingers that pushed through his hair, exposing his forehead, and if you weren’t so invested in his interaction with Jimin, you might have noticed the pesky butterflies flitting around your stomach. 

“Can I help you?” Jimin didn’t give Hoseok the satisfaction of another turned head, making Hoseok greedy and frustrated with Jimin’s passive protest.

“I just wanna know…” The glance he shot to you sent shivers through your body, but you knew there was some mischief in this look, “You and princess over there are fucking?”

“What the hell?” These words had escaped from your mouth before you had the chance to fully construct a more dignified response. Jimin looked to you in attempts to apologize on behalf of Hoseok’s foul tongue. Seokjin’s ears had grown into a much deeper red upon hearing these obscenities and Namjoon’s eyes had widened almost as large as his jaw-dropped mouth.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I don’t even know ___ like that.” Hoseok sat on the desk to face you with a smirk of such arrogance that it riled a combative sneer from your face. 

“So, you’re telling me, you’ve never slipped him the tongue, ___? I swear I could cut the sexual tension with a knife.” 

“You’re delusional.” Jimin cut in.

“Maybe. I couldn’t be as delusional as you, being concussed probably a hundred times from rolling around in the grass with your football friends.” 

“As if a loser like you knows anything about me or my friends!” 

“You like rolling around with your brain-dead guy friends?”

“What did you say?” What Hoseok was alluding to hadn’t been a reference to what Jimin perceived it as, though it had gashed against a rather sensitive spot. More so a personal, secretive spot and Jimin sewed his lips shut in fear to push Hoseok any further.

“Shut up, Hoseok! Everyone stop acknowledging him. He just wants attention.” Though what you had said was true, and everyone surely agreed on that, Hoseok had drawn in each of you and had you all completely wrapped around his finger in minutes. 

You seemed to be spooled around it the tightest as your eyes were now at war against his piercing glare. A small ten seconds grew into eternity when you were under his gaze and the canopy of memories it seemed to hold, and when it was torn away from you there was a sense of relief and exhilaration tilling through you. 

Hoseok would never admit to it, but your eyes had almost faltered his own, almost moved him to an obedience that would have him sitting down at his desk and shutting up. There was a bloated discomfort with his recollection of your power over him, especially uncomfortable with the fact that the years of distance hadn’t diminished it in the slightest. Nor had it given him the time to muster a tolerance against your gleaming eyes. This pushed him to look towards the nerdish boy sitting in the back.

“What about you, nerd? Ever gotten down and dirty? I’m sure you haven’t but maybe ___ could help you out with that.” Namjoon was stiff except for his hands that had been quivering the moment Hoseok began directing his torments towards him. Maybe it wasn’t the hollow comments that had angered you, but the fact that he still wouldn’t find the nobility in himself to face you when he disgraced your name in such explicit ways. Or the fact that each time he failed to meet your eyes, you only felt yourself wrapping tighter around his finger.

“You’re an ass, Hoseok.” Jimin muttered under his breath because part of him was too afraid to address him with full confidence. 

“Jealous, meathead?” 

“Didn’t you hear ___? No one cares for the bullshit that comes out of your mouth.”

 “Yeah, that’s the point. If no one cares, then I can say whatever the hell I want.”

Someone did care, not that he had the mind or attention span to notice how even in hatred, you felt natural to be at his side again. Or rather, in between the crossfires of Hoseok and Jimin’s deafening stare-off. The letterman jacket covering Jimin’s torso had instigated Hoseok to flick the flap of his collar against Jimin’s cheek. He was swift to knock Hoseok’s hand and now his anger gave him the motive to speak louder. 

“Don’t start with me again, asshole.” 

Hoseok performed a fake shudder in the face of the confidence born in Jimin’s tone. The two have now risen to their feet and inches away from their noses brushing against each other. Jimin’s hands had repositioned into the same fists of enragement while Hoseok called Jimin’s aggression and raised him with his arms folding across his chest. Seokjin’s nails were being fervently trimmed by his teeth and Namjoon shifted to the edge of his seat. It was clear neither of their prideful masculinities would allow for them to subside from this standoff. Who would make the first move, however, had yet to be unraveled and thrilled everyone to oblivion in the dimly lit library.

Again, your eyes couldn’t be ripped from Hoseok and how his white tank top had clung against his heaving chest. The way his cocked eyebrow and ego had the strength of a crazed hurricane, one that swept you up in its winds with no trace of mercy. Still, there was nothing that could peel your eyes away from him, not even the rampant air currents thrashing through the library. Your focus had nearly distracted you from displaying your shameful affinity towards his arrogance and intimidation. Internally, you were sure you would have been salivating profusely with the way your mouth hung open. On the outside, you only stared, leaving the rest of what that meant up to Hoseok’s imagination. 

Has it really been long enough to note that his shoulders broadened and his jawline sharpened?

Timing played its incessant role as the overly suspicious Vice Principal Donald Dickson walked in, ridding the library of what could have resulted in bruised eyes and busted knuckles. Jimin and Hoseok sat down upon hearing the tick of the door handle, before the supervisor fully walked through the door and set his eyes on this group of expectant students. A beat of silence clung onto the space between the five of you, now six including the Vice Principal, and Dickson took in the sights of what he perceived were cowardice troublemakers sitting in the desks before him.

“Hello, everyone. You’re here today because you did something wrong. A wrong that needs to be punished. And what better way to do that than wasting away your Saturday?” 

His words had been spoken from an embittered tongue, eager to thread more guilt into each one of you. Truly the only thing more distasteful than his mustard colored tie paired with a navy blue collared shirt was his arrogance. In seconds, he squeezed the excess space between the five students, cramming you all, almost unwillingly, into a team against him. The surplus of space, flushed out by his own demean, drifted him further away. He stepped closer to the desk, specifically to the leather-coated boy slouched in his chair and leaned forward intending to tempt Hoseok into picking a fight with him. 

“Welcome back, Hoseok.” 

Dickson's arrogance began to singe the air, making the space smell rancid as if something had been rotting in this library for months.

“Good to be back, buddy!” His sarcastic chide sat horribly with Dickson, feeling this pet name as a challenge to his authority. And if something as trivial as the word ‘buddy’ stung him so, he couldn’t have been less prepared for the comment about to spill from Hoseok’s mouth, “How ‘bout we go for dinner after this, Donald? Oh, actually never mind. Looks like you’ve been eating enough for the both of us.” 

Normally, his empty insults would have passed through Dickson’s head but he had been in a bad mood today. The heckling had sent him right over the edge and gave him the opportunity to take his frustrations out on Hoseok.

“It’s Mr. Dickson to you. And you just earned yourself another Saturday detention.” Said with the slam of his hand against the table. All but Hoseok jumped from the slap that reverberated through the halls. The underlying tactic to put his foot down, or rather his hand down, lost its effect on the one person it was meant for; Hoseok saw this as a reciprocated challenge and was always up for a way to reclaim his domain.

“Don’t be stingy, how ‘bout another one?” Doing the exact opposite of what Dickens wanted, testing his power even more, though to Hoseok his power was nothing more than a pathetic hunger for any sort of authority, something missing from his life outside of work. If bossing around children was the only outlet to feed this obsession, Hoseok saw to it to make this worth his while.

“Fine! You got one!” 

“Can’t wait to see you again, babe.”

“That's it! All your Saturdays for the rest of the month are gonna be spent here, with me. You happy now?”

“Over the moon.” 

“Hoseok, stop it.” Even though your plea had been a whisper, it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Hoseok snuck a glance to your disapproving face. You’d been surprised to meet his unworried expression, despite arguing with Dickson and sacrificing all his Saturdays for the sake of knocking the vice principal down a few steps on the hierarchical ladder. His attention to you was stolen by Jimin.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Jimin had his head facing down in compliance as if he were setting an example for Hoseok. Just minutes ago, they were at each other’s throats, but Dickson had this vulgarity in his threats that excelled in earning him the title as the most hateable person known to humankind, of a much higher rank than Hoseok, and that forged some unspoken solidarity between all of you. If it hadn’t been for Dickson, Jimin and Hoseok would have broken into an all-out brawl. Instead, it smoothed the dynamic between the two boys to a shielding defense of one another.

“Shut it, Park. Or you’ll get one too.” 

It took everything in your willpower to not scoff at Dickson’s insolence. You, personally, had quite a bone to pick with him as he was the exact wrong person that caught you, withheld the opportunity to explain yourself, and unjustly held you responsible for simply being in the vicinity of the crime scene. As much as you hated Hoseok, there had been nothing so compelling of your hatred than Dickson.

“Now, each of you will write an essay.” All five mouths groaned in response to this, “Yeah, yeah. You’ll write an essay whether you like it or not. You will sit here for eight hours, not say a word, not move unless it's to write your essay, and not even think about trying to leave.”

“What if we have to go to the bathroom?” This was a genuine question masked with innocence, however it doubled as a ploy for Namjoon to aggravate Dickson.

“Well, you’ll hold it!”

“Mr. Dickson, you’re definitely supposed to let us go to the bathroom.” You added.

“Even prisoners get to go to the bathroom.” A comparison laid out by Hoseok, quite fitting as Dickson seemed to treat you all lower than the dirt lodged between the ridges of his shoes. 

“You don’t tell me what I can or can’t do!” Dickson grew red in the face, a sight for the sore eyes of the five prisoners in this library.

“So, you expect us to hold it all day?” Jimin tossed his own objection in this dispute. 

“I expect you to do what I say, or do you three want to join your little friend next Saturday?” Dickson didn’t hold his tongue or restrain the volume of his voice that was barking this unreasonable demand. The wag of his fingers was as if he had truly asserted any real or respectable power over the five of you. Seokjin released the chuckle that had been brewing in his chest ever since Dickson began spouting his hollow threats. 

“Something funny, kid?” 

Yes, you’re making an ass of yourself, you thought.

“Nope just… thought of something that happened earlier today. Like, way earlier today, uh, a joke! It was funny, so…” Now you were all at the mercy of Dickson’s comical attempt to have students worship him. 

Jimin’s head had buried deeper towards his chest to mask the tears forming from holding his laughter behind his teeth, while Namjoon utilized the cover of his hand to fence in his. You and Hoseok had been trading off with noiseless snickers that exhaled as huffs of breath when Dickson had turned his back to check the time.

“It is eight thirty-two. You punks have a good six and a half hours until four comes, so I suggest you take the time to work on your essays. If you don’t finish, you’ll be back here next week to do just that. You’re going to write about what you did wrong, and why it was wrong, along with a long, thoughtful apology for what you did.” Dickson paced back and forth in the front of the desks with the sets of eyes, minus Hoseok’s, following his body. Two things stood with a backless stance in yet another empty threat of Dickson’s. One, there were not any grounds for Dickson to mandate another Saturday detention if the five of you didn’t finish an unrequired essay. Hoseok had the pleasure of pointing out Dickson’s other incorrect claim.

“Seven.” 

“What?” One could see the steam pouring from his ears and nostrils as he halted as if Hoseok’s retort acted as a hurdle placed in his path.

“We have seven and a half hours until four.”

“That’s what I said.” 

Jimin’s eyes had rolled back at Dickson’s inability to ever admit he was wrong, a trait only painting him into a bigger joke. You shook your head softly because the stillness you were trying to maintain was too overwhelming to handle, and this seemed to ease the second-hand embarrassment raging through you each time Dickson opened his mouth.

“No, you definitely said six. You said ‘you punks have a good six and a half hours until four’. Then Hoseok said ‘seven’ and then you said ‘what’ and then he said ‘we have seven and a half hours until four’ and then you sa-”

“Enough!” Dickson exclaimed.

Seokjin spoke innocently to give a correction to Dickson. His shallow grasp of social cues often had his well-intentioned actions trilling off his tongue with a sting to Dickson’s pride. Though, nothing had done more harm to Dickson’s pride than the prance of his half delusional authority before the eyes of those who had their own reasons for being stuck here. None, however, had been as lewd as the tyrannical reasons that drove Dickson here. 

“Watch your tone, kid.”

“Who else heard Dickson say six?” Hoseok asked after raising his hand high, followed by Jimin, Namjoon and you casting your concurring votes. Seokjin’s slow uplift of his hand was soon diverted to play off his affirmation as scratching his head. Hoseok’s smirk bloomed from the majority’s favor with him, and the one effortful but ultimately silenced support of Seokjin. 

“Looks like the Is have it!”

“Whatever! I’ll be back to check on you all in a couple hours. No moving from your seats. No talking.” He felt the slight of each of your hands, depleting his once esteemed title of vice principal to a speck of dust that did nothing more than agitate the noses of unimpressed students. The stiffness in all your muscles began to deteriorate from Dickson’s reluctant retreat, having you loosening the clench of your jaw. Watching Dickson wrangle the handle of the broken door before a gruff exit had assisted in soothing your nerves.

Not long after he left, not even a few seconds after the door closed, Hoseok felt an itch for not-so-civil disobedience and scratched a sweet relief to that by walking over to Namjoon, who had been scribbling on the paper that should have been filled with the assigned essay. He snagged the paper from the pencil once being grazed against it and jerked his hand away to evade Namjoon’s attempt at retrieving the stolen item. 

Everyone else’s attention had been forthcoming, and all found the contents of Namjoon’s paper much more worthy of their time than the essay was. Hoseok took a second for his own inspection as his lips curved to a quiet grin. Before Namjoon got the chance to explain it, Hoseok cruised along to the front of the room to behold to the rest of you the picture etched onto the paper.

“It looks like we got an artist on our hands.” Though it was heavy with teasing, there had been a cloaked adoration in Hoseok’s word. It was almost as if he were showing Namjoon’s talent off through the guise of badgering. You hadn’t known the man before you in the same way you knew him as a child, yet you still picked up on this through the lilt of his voice. 

It dawned on you then; no matter how many years past and how the roads of change diverted you in life-altering directions, there would always be a piece of the inner child in you. Small and fainter than the drop of a pin, but still there. You saw the kind child that Hoseok used to be still rummaging around deep within, trying to find its way to the surface.

Hoseok took notice of your perceptive glare that had differed from the others; your eyes always whispered something more that made him equal parts elusive towards you and troubled that maybe you’d been able to crack open his once impenetrable veil. The crusted formation of his toughened skin soaked in your eyes, making it softer and easier to see through. 

“Is that-” Your eyes squinted to focus on the detailing of the drawing, “Is that me?” The simultaneous glares of everyone onto Namjoon had caused a slight perspiration to fog the lens of his glasses. 

It was unmistakable, the face and shadowing were a near perfect imitation of yours, but the sharpness of each line exuded a striking tenacity quite the opposite of the demure front you upheld. A tenacity that felt indicative of a desperation for something; to Namjoon, it was clear in your eyes there had been a facet in your life missing which left you feeling robbed. This tore through you like lightning, leaving you to discover the source of what had been robbed of you. 

“Looks like I was wrong. The sexual tension wasn’t between meathead and ___, but bookworm and ___.” The blush on your cheeks wasn’t nearly as red as Namjoon’s entire face. “My sincerest apologies, please tell us how you and ___ fell in love. I wanna know every little detail.” 

He’d considered various routes of excuses, such as the picture wasn’t of you, or that maybe he’d absentmindedly sketched your features simply because you were in the same room but there would be no avail in either. He knew Hoseok wouldn’t accept that, backing him against the wall of shared curiosity between the other four, so Namjoon resolved that telling the truth was far more becoming of him than protecting the last of his dignity.

“To be fair, I drew almost everyone in the room.” He slipped a few papers from underneath his notebook, accompanied by an exasperated sigh, all depicting his own interpretation on his peers sitting before him. Each one held some unfeigned element of you all, not of intention though also not of coincidence, that drained the multiple facades to ineffectiveness until they were completely impotent. Everyone had gathered around Namjoon’s desk looking for their own picture, and neither Jimin nor Seokjin were prepared to face theirs.

“Yo, this is sick!” Jimin had his portrait between his fingers, eyes scaling the led sketch that accentuated his more flattering features. It was pleasing in the beginning but as he examined with more scrutiny that feeling had been sullied into fear. There had been a glint of worry in the eyes of Jimin’s drawing that had his once excited smile fading into a humbled concern of the growing nuances this small detail suggested. Jimin was just glad everyone else was concentrated on their own portrait so no one would be able to see this unsettling vulnerability strewn into the drawing.

Seokjin’s was a rather accurate paradigm of his eccentric expressions and attitude. To his surprise, this was given a more favorable look to what most people thought were awkward tendencies; it had become the focal point of the portrait as if there had been some unadulterated goodness in his heart that Namjoon seemed to be the only one to see. And below that surface of the painting, there was a tired expression bleeding through the excited one. All at once, his burdens seemed lucid and bare within the positivity intended to circumvent those exact burdens.

“I didn’t know you drew.” Jimin broke the silence with what he believed to be a keen observation. Namjoon found it quite daunting of him to act like this had been some revelation that the rest of you shared. 

“Well, you never asked. In fact, I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation.” There had been an edge ruminating within the words Namjoon spoke that blew through the air and raised a few hairs on Jimin’s neck.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that we’ve been in art class together all year and my art has just now caught you by surprise.” The accusations in his tone shriveled Jimin into a corner of odd mortification for his ignorance of those who didn’t run in his circle. What made matters worse was there could be no proper objection to what Namjoon said, as he looked around to each of your faces trying to recount any memorable interaction with you all. It would be more fitting to call the rest of you strangers than acquaintances, let alone schoolmates, and least of all friends.

“I-” All words had been brushed to a place unworthy of being verbalized. 

“Meathead has better things to attend to than talking to us lowlifes, Namjoon.” Hoseok cut off Jimin’s already lost train of thought. 

You and the four others were now positioned in a circle, though some sitting on the floor and others finding a seat on top of the desks, you were all in this circle, together. The outside world had given you all the freedom to choose who you talked to, what kinds of people you associated with. Perhaps too much freedom that amounted in severed connections and missed opportunities to meet those who might serve as beneficial to your life. However in this room, in the crowded library which held that freedom from you all and granted you an even better gift of contingency, there had been an irresistible gravitation to seek entertainment through each other and learn what would have gone unlearned if not for the five different mishaps that led the five individuals to this room.

“I never said you were a lowlife!”

“Oh, but you were thinking it. Admit it.”

“Are you ever going to stop talking?”

“Are you ever going to stop using the entire bottle of Axe body spray or do you want us to lose our sense of smell?” Namjoon and Seokjin were more humored by this comment than you had been. Not because you didn’t find it funny, and it was all too true to foster any denial from Jimin and anyone in a ten foot radius of the boy, but because you kept busy wondering how the transition of the once sweet-tongued Hoseok had developed him to acquire such a thirst for belittlement. Or perhaps, why he had undergone this caustic transformation.

“Oh, like you’d ever be caught with me or Jimin at one of your parties with all your hoodlum friends.” You shot him this retort aspiring to sour his praise from the two other boys.

“You wanna party with me, sweetness? I think I can arrange that.” It was surprising, the sarcastic offer, and it suggested that he wasn't the one who initiated the drift of your friendship. That had struck some chord with you because you were certain it was all his doing, and subsequently cleared your tongue of a witty retort that would shut him up. He shifted from his crossed legged pose to dangle his legs from the end of the table that sat behind where your back had been. The tip of his foot had nudged against your shoulder blade in a tease to which you hastily swat his dark boot away.

“Fuck off, Hoseok.”

“You’re the one who brought it up! Don’t be shy, I’d love to see you get plastered with me and my, as you call it, hoodlum friends.” He had been a few more light kicks away from you landing your hand against the side of his cheek. To his luck, your resolve had kept your hands folded in your lap.

“In your dreams.”

“I’d party with you!” Seokjin’s idealism had interrupted your exchange with Hoseok as his eyes, now raked with astonishment, moved to the boy sitting diagonally from himself.

“I'm sorry, did you say something?” Hoseok asked. Jimin’s fingers pinched the bridge of his nose while you had surrendered to the foot still digging into your upper back to turn towards Seokjin as well.

“Um, just that I’d hang out with you.” A bit of regret had a stutter leaking through his words.

“I wouldn't want to interrupt your bible study with my hoodlum parties.” Thickly layered sarcasm was just another social cue Seokjin was wholesomely unaware of, or perhaps he’d caught onto Hoseok’s aim to insult but didn’t care about it as much as you and the others had.

“I’m not even religious and I can handle parties! I’ve been to lots of parties.” He had fooled no one in the library with that statement. Seokjin’s volume had tapered off towards the end, filling the quiet of his voice with even more regret. There was a force out of his control that had him spewing the first thoughts that popped into his head through an unfiltered mouth.

“Bud, you are the human embodiment of an unwanted boner. Stiff? Yes. Annoying? Check! Something no one wants at their parties let alone in their pants? One hundred percent.” The rest of you, but mostly Jimin, had given up on taking the high road. This was made obvious to Seokjin and Hoseok through the contagious laughter afflicting the three of you, and even Seokjin couldn’t resist the smile tugging at the ends of his lips.

“Hey Hoseok, come look.” Namjoon’s beckon was said seconds before a few more taps of his pencil against the paper. It wasn't in his nature to call out to someone like Hoseok, but the need for him to face his painting had given his words the momentum to be spoken.

His approach had been a bit too unsuspecting; he didn’t think to craft a strong guard for seeing his portrait that he’d been waiting for. That had been a grave mistake. 

Hoseok stared at the page as if he had seen a ghost. Though it was not one of an unfamiliar face, the apparition had been the mirror image of him. With the glide of his pencil, Namjoon haunted the man with the impenetrable veil to a state of uncharacteristic lethargy. You were sitting right behind him, giving you the perfect vantage point to witness the picture of a man being stripped from his conceit. In the drawing, he was crying. This had nearly gone unnoticed from the obstruction of your vision by his shoulder. 

Nearly, but it was the first detail that caught your eye. It was eerily familiar, like Deja-vu. Even if the others were to see it, they wouldn’t have distinguished how this had illustrated a portrayal awfully close to the innocence of a younger Hoseok, of which only you had been acquainted with, and he immediately crumpled it to a ball before you were able to collect any more of the details to your memory. 

“What kind of shit are you trying to pull, huh?” His demanding question stripped the lighthearted atmosphere from the room. The cuff of Namjoon’s turtleneck joined the shriveled paper in his hand as Hoseok yanked him to a weak stand and an even weaker defense. 

Jimin compensated for Namjoon’s frailty with a firm grasp on both of Hoseok’s arms followed by pulling him away to stop what could have been a brutal beating. The paper had fallen from Hoseok’s hand which went unseen because he was struggling to free himself from Jimin’s strong grasp, which was cultivated through his athleticism.

“Bro, calm down!”

“Hoseok, stop being like that!” Your voice had his scowl now directing towards you, still maintaining the weathered clutch on your heart. There was no ambiguity in fear. One thing often scarce in Hoseok's eyes, but you saw it then. You knew his anger wasn’t of shallow disliking to the picture, but what it exposed of him that he was trying so desperately to mask.

Seokjin had taken it upon himself to see what triggered the fumed reaction from Hoseok by picking up the paper and stretching out the wrinkles enough for proper inspection. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why Hoseok would waste his temper on something as trivial as a few fictitious tears. With one more thrust of Hoseok’s shoulder, he escaped Jimin’s distracted hold and swiped the paper from Seokjin before anyone else had the chance to see it.

Hoseok wished you hadn’t seen it, as well as the other boy. The troubling fear in the painting, and how it reflected that particular quality onto him, though in an entirely new light. He wished it were gentler, the reflection; he wished it didn’t cut deep enough to carry a brutalizing truth. He wished it wasn't a reflection at all, that instead it was a misjudgment or an oversight. And he had no idea you saw past what Seokjin saw as just penciled tears on a paper. His shields of iron and skin were in no position to stand against your eyes. 

They never were.

“What the fuck are you looking at, freak?” 

“Hobi, don’t call him that.”

And with the utterance of the long-abandoned nickname, Hobi, it had sparked a sequence of memories to rattle through Hoseok’s mind. He was collapsing into himself, into the memories of you and your voice possessing exclusivity to the nickname that held a sentiment of which he’d almost forgotten. The scenes had tranquilized his boiling fury to a light simmer. Such nostalgia had that effect on his mind, as well as expelling the surroundings of the library from each of his senses and replacing them with sweet, untouched memories. 

The fragrance of fresh linen and lemon crowded his nose, the same way it would when he would walk into the comfort of your home. Long ago, when his arrival required no invitation, but was an expected, weekly affair. And during tough times, it grew in frequency. 

His nose would grow to associate the smells of linen and lemon with your home of pure safety, then into the arms of your mother whose delight had gone almost unmatched when she saw him. However, it never surmounted the ripples of joy you would feel when you were greeted with his arrival, and you believed you would never have to miss that feeling. This scent sailed him into the tragically estranged feeling of safety, now a malicious craving for it to return pooled in his chest; missing the feeling of safety he once had with you almost hurt more than the actual absence of it.

Though he wondered if it truly was the nickname ‘Hobi’ that swept him in a melancholic reminiscence, or the stark smell of fresh linen and lemon invading his nose. He wondered why it was that no other person had ever made him remember such insignificant details of his past that were too good to hold onto. He wondered if it really were the nostalgic scents and nickname, rather than the person who they reminded him of; all the good, safe things that left with you and your budding friendship. 

The muffled voices of those around him were just enough to crack through the tent of reminiscence.

“It’s okay to cry, Hoseok. We all know you just act tough but inside you care about what others think just as much as the rest of us.” That comment had been restitution for Hoseok’s previous jab at Jimin’s body spray misusage.

“Yeah, I cry all the time! Just the other day-” Seokjin chimed with agility from the quickly fading regret.

“Please stop talking. Please don’t make me punch you.” Jimin’s interruptive threat crammed back the thoughtless anecdote about to spill from Seokjin’s mouth.

“Wait, I’d actually like to see that. Seokjin, keep going.” To Namjoon, the idea of a boyish fight between the two sounded far more entertaining than whatever story Jimin had stopped Seokjin from sharing. “Why are you so afraid of crying anyway?”

“Yeah why?”

“Tell us, Hoseok.”

Consecutive questions such as these held a violence equivalent to assault in Hoseok's mind. He’d been cornered, his eyes that once couldn't bear to rest on you before now seemed to plead with yours for a salve from these bombardments. And you couldn’t tell if you hated him or the fact that with one look, he had winded you tighter around his finger.

“Hoseok is just mad because he cried during Marley and Me.” You said, quick to scavenge for a decent distraction. Your memory of watching this movie with him about ten years ago had been far too riveting to keep to yourself. 

In fact, you rationed it positively selfish to hoard something as enthralling as Jung Hoseok crying real tears, not like the ones on Namjoon’s drawing. And part of you, part of him too, knew this was done in favor of Hoseok to misdirect the rest of them from the actual root of his anger. Exploring the soul-bearing secrets he kept hidden beneath his thick skin was a venture overwhelmed by terror and discomfort. You felt this through that look glazing his eyes, and figured the Marley and Me incident was a worthy sacrifice to protect something far too fragile to tread on. The four of you were now swimming through a lake of laughter as Hoseok tried to suppress his annoyance, and especially his gratefulness to what you had done for him.

It began then, the struggle. He found the constant maintenance of keeping his skin intact over his heart forfeiting to your offer of kindness. As much as he tried to press the skin back onto himself, it would shed almost a bit too easily.

“What kind of heartless monster doesn’t cry at a dying dog? You’re all insufferable.” Hoseok stood up, turning away from the belly-aching giggles still erupting from you and the other three, “And I was eight years old. And ___ cried harder.” His trudge to the back of the room, away from the commotion of the drawings, was gorged in a strange distrust.

There was the possibility he had spilled one too many secrets with his long, catatonic silence after the way you called him that name. How you all had established a comfort to open yourselves to a partially amiable conversation together and that Hoseok felt like he was the one standing on the outside looking in. 

Thus, leaving Hoseok feeling betrayed, distrustful, and fumbling over where to place the blame. 

With himself, the full-fledged outing of his feelings that were ripped from his chest by his own hand without the consent of his mind. It felt unlawful, like he was unwillingly breaking his own rules. Or perhaps blame lied with the people who took one look at his leather jacket and paid zero caution when shedding a few layers of the deceitful front of his skin. What was left was the outer shell, the once impenetrable veil lying on the floor, and a man without his protective skin, open and raw and sensitive, though scared of vulnerability above all else. 

The rest of you followed suit to return to your empty chairs, ignoring how the air was damp with a complex rigidity that none of you felt equipped to handle. No one, least of all you, had been sure of what to do with the discomfort that sterilized the air with nothing but the sounds of five syncopated breaths, longing for some release of this silent torture.

You were sure of two things. 

First, you hated Hoseok and he showed his reciprocation of that through the flipped middle finger when you braved a glance back to him. Second, you concluded that the reasons pillaring your hatred for him had changed within two of the eight hours in this library. It was astounding, torn between being impressive and pathetic the way he’d roped you back into the sentiment of the young, inseparable children residing in the darker caverns of your hearts. 

The younger you that handed him a tissue and a shoulder to lean on, a gift of nothing close to judgement, when you had seen him crying at that sad movie. The younger him that in many ways held a strapping debt over your head for rescuing you from numerous bullies throughout elementary and middle school and a long spell of loneliness from your lack of friends in your younger years. The two mellow hearted friends attached at the hip, and the heart, that skipped along the steps of life as if misery and loneliness were nightmares lived out by those who didn’t have a person like Hoseok in their lives. They were locked away for quite some time and remained that way due to the abundance of freedom that this library had suspended. 

Because in the library, you couldn't run or hide.

Hoseok was sure of one thing, and one thing only. It was far clearer than the tainted air of the library along with the fogged arena of the outside world, and brighter than the way your eyes still outshined the shadow of his own pain; the irrefutability was beyond the depths of the ocean. 

His heart had been broken, pulverized to a dust, for far too long and it was because of how dearly he missed you and the safety that accompanied you. 

If you looked closely, you could see past his skin to his bones and all the secrets and scars carved in them.

 10:00 - 12:00

Timing. What you thought was an incarnation of the devil itself, seemed to torture you through today like it had a personal agenda against you. The five students and their endurance of boredom had been eroded from the minutes that felt like hours and the confiscated cell phones leaving you all to the devices of screenless misery. 

The silence continued stalking the air, still just as heavy and nuanced as before. You wondered why the quiet didn’t feel all that quiet. In turn, it was nothing less than an earthy rumble at this point, like the ground was ready to shake and knock every book from the shelves around you. Every time your eyes would meet with another one of your peers, they’d be instantly veered with a quick glance towards the ceiling or down at the blank papers sitting on the desks before them. Hoseok fell asleep long before you had the chance to read the hints of his mind that were lightly seasoned in his eyes, that seemed to have a way of avoiding you today. 

Still without some of his skin, and now the loss of his dignity joined. Because of that, he was tired and needed to sleep. It had more or less been Hoseok’s melodramatic efforts to recoup for the loss that put him in a moped mood; you not being in his life was the little secret that fringed his heart far worse than Namjoon’s portrait.

Maybe if you would have let him know that yours and the others’ dignities had been left at the broken door of the library then he wouldn’t be as mortified. At the time, you didn’t feel like it had been your job to do so which was retrospectively an all too uncompassionate choice. A bad choice. Far worse than the ones you made to lead you to detention.

Seokjin and Jimin had been tossing crumpled pieces of binder paper and shooting them in the trash can with high spirits, the heavy boredom of detention being cut through by their makeshift basketball game.

“That's fifteen.” A gloat followed Jimin’s victorious fist shaking but soon to be shut down by Namjoon.

“No, that was fourteen.” He held the paper where two sets of tallies were marked side by side under the initials J and S.

“What? I was counting too and that was fifteen!”

“Ha! Read it and weep.” Seokjin teased.

“Jin, shut up! You've made like three.”

Namjoon checked the paper and confirmed Jimin’s rebuttal with a thumbs up. Your resting head on the palm of your hand shook with laughter at the scowl plastered across the boy's face, which had made a habit of blushing a bright red in regret of his comments. 

Seokjin said nothing to this, instead proceeded to crumple four more pieces of paper now encased in his hand.

“Well now it's gonna be seven.” He had made this claim a bit too soon after the sling of his arm amounted to all four paper balls bouncing off the rim of the trash can and scattering onto the floor. Having all three of you laugh broke the fourth boy’s slumber, but he went about it calm. Hoseok’s eyes opened, quiet and slow, and none of you noticed he had regained his consciousness.

Dickson’s return had hushed the last bit of laughter along with the surprising enjoyment circulating through the third hour of detention. This time, Dickson was mindful of your collective vendetta against him which was why he had been armored with even more aggression than the last time. The mix of you four riding off the delights of playing with the little entertainment made available and Dickson’s heavily loaded disdain would make for quite a reactive outcome. There had been a lewd displeasure of finding littered papers along the floor adding to his frustration.

“Which one of you imbeciles were tossing around paper balls when you should have been writing your essays?” The unresponsive silence pushed him over the edge of annoyance, “Well?” 

His earth-shattering holler had fully awoken Hoseok who joined the unconcerned teens in this noiseless stare off. A yell or a whisper wouldn’t have made a difference by the means of intimidation since none of you could take seriously a man who missed the step of re-zipping his fly after going to the bathroom. The five of you were urged to point it out, though none of you felt the need to bury him even lower in all of your regards; he did that quite adequately and consistently on his own.

“We all just really want to do well on our essays! What you call paper balls were the triumphant efforts of remorseful students, sir.” Any resistance to Hoseok’s humorous antagonizations towards Dickson were depleted by the second round of his arrival. Namjoon demonstrated his agreeance with a snide head nod joined by Jimin who also nodded some proof to Hoseok’s lie.

“Really? Is that true, Seokjin?” 

“Yes, we all just want to better ourselves, sir.” Singling the evidently weakest willed student did not go over the way Dickson had hoped. He stood by Hoseok’s lie even if he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with Dickson. There had been some unknown element of surprise that had Seokjin just a few steps ahead of Dickson and a few steps behind the rest of you. Still, he was far ahead of Dickson, whose temper seemed to be strained.

“What about you ___, any thoughts?” He asked you this as if there was any evidence for his disbelief. And he was right of course, to be disbelieving, but the derogation of his voice did render his correct assumptions as nothing short of foolish dictatorship. Again, there was space. It was the five of you, a dividing space, and then Dickson. 

Space is meant to be empty, or it is not space at all, and Dickson’s unwelcomed invasion into it had made him the target of five unrelenting students.

“My English teacher says writing multiple drafts before turning in the final product is a clear-cut way to do well on essays.” Your eyes weren't level with his. They had been glancing back and forth from the desk to the unzipped fly of his pants that were now unfortunately a foot too close in your peripherals. Provided you had nothing to lose, maybe another one of your Saturdays, but even that seemed to be worth pointing the zip, or lack thereof, of his pants. “Sir, your fly is down.”

He hastily corrected this and his authority had been running too thin from the jabs sent his way, diluting any call to action he made into a watered down whine. It wasn't enough to spread over himself or each of you, making his second retreat taking place faster than the one before. On his way out, he tossed three out of four of the papers in the trash and kept one to inspect. There was no draft of an essay written on the paper, and for once he was right and it felt awful. 

You would have felt bad, but no one could empathize with his fatal arrogance.

“You kids are a piece of work. I don't get paid enough for this shit. You better be done with these essays by the end or I swear.” And he didn’t finish whatever he was about to say before walking out of the library, hurried and belittled. Jimin was, of course, the first one to burst through the silence with giggles and the sound had doubled, tripled, and so on until all of you had been absorbed in a fit of laughter. Even Hoseok released a smirky chuckle, and felt attuned with you, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jimin. 

For lack of skin, one could assume. Or maybe he genuinely liked the way he felt around you and those who were on this team that was too diverse to give a definite label.

“___, I can’t believe you actually said it. God, I was going to but I thought he would have cried.” Jimin pushed out this appraisal through gasping for air. 

“I couldn’t help it. It was right in front of my face! I think I have to go wash my eyes out.” You were rubbing your temples to massage away the increasing disgust upon picturing it.

“If anything, I thought Seokjin would’ve been the one to do it.” Namjoon said, keeping busy with another illustration.

“Nah, ___ handled that perfectly.” Jimin managed to level his breath by now.

“I wonder if your bite is as big as your bark.” Hoseok said, just to get another one of those annoyed glares, which seemed to be the only way he knew how to get your attention now. His affluence of communicating, especially to you, has been sloping off to quite elementary levels. Still, he did what he could.

“You wanna find out?” Your voice insinuating you wouldn't falter to his bereavements. Your eyes looked back to the smirk of satisfaction painted over his face, boiling a bit of frustration in your chest. Mostly, frustration with yourself for finding your eyes trailing along the length of his admittedly handsome face. Frustrated that, no matter how insufferable he was, you were undeniably attracted to him which made you struggle to suppress your own smile.

“Guys, look.” Namjoon held up a stick figure sketch of Dickson. It wasn’t nearly eligible to be considered a sophisticated piece or technically accurate to Dickson’s appearance. Though the elementary style of it had a stronger sense of accuracy than any proper portrait of Dickson would have. The grimace of the stick-figured Dickson and the detailed pants that included a dropped fly upstaged whatever ornate cross-hatched or contoured lines that had been applied to the four of your drawings. 

“You have a talent, you gotta give me some lessons sometime.” It felt like Jimin meant more of this. Perhaps he had been referring to what Namjoon had said before. As if he were realizing his range of friends left Jimin destitute in the terms of social circles and in some way, Namjoon had been entirely unique from anyone he’d ever met. He didn’t want to be another cart in a train of unexpanded minds due to a case of the status quo. 

Namjoon was alluring, to put it simply. Outside of his long undisturbed comfort zone.

“Well, you haven’t seen my art skills. I like to call myself the Van Gogh of our high school.” Seokjin did nothing but embarrass himself, but it had a normalcy you and the rest had grown used to. Now it was not just expected of him but looked forward to. Things were changing before the eyes of the five different faces with five different stories. Changing, yet at the same time, feeling as if things had been returning.

“Yeah, all you have to do now is cut off your ear!” Namjoon said sarcastically.

More laughter, more good feelings poured into the library that once felt nothing more than a temporary, barren jail cell and a source of guilt and boredom. It was full now. Full of something much warmer than before. 

You were looking at Hoseok, now with a little less hatred. Seeing him smiling, laughing even, had softened your hatred to something else. It was still painful, and just as hard to identify as that particular quality of his. Whatever blame you directed towards him hadn’t been as hampering as this new feeling you got when you looked at him. He felt your gaze, louder than the chime of a bell, and wondered if he had shed enough skin yet to look back at you. To be filled with fresh linen and lemon and all the pieces of safety latched onto the exchange of glances that were not of the seniors in high school, but the childhood friends that long ago shared one heart.

Sadly, he didn't look to you, not yet. Not when he felt unready and unaccustomed to the ripe, underlying skin covering him now. He couldn't be brave enough to risk disappointing you with how his gaze might not have measured up to how sorry he felt for being the loose cannon in your life.

 You looked at the clock that read it was twenty-two minutes until the third hour of detention. Watching time tick by had proven to slow it nearly to a full stop, so you took to the sights displayed by the library window. The fog was still heavy, trading the perimeter of the parking lot with thick invisibility. Somehow, you had acclimated to the unseen sectors of what was within the fog. You couldn’t see through it, all you could truly see was fog, but that was not as pronounced as what you felt and what you knew. There was, without a doubt, something beyond the fog; that was what you knew. And what you felt was consoled in knowing there was surely something, anything beyond the fog, thus leading your eyes to Hoseok, again. You looked at him, right at his face, at his thin skin, and knew there was something beyond the fog.

“Stop leaning against the table, you’re gonna knock it down.” Namjoon had been referring to the tower of dusty books gone unread for a considerable amount of time for anyone, even the librarian, to notice they were missing. 

What, you wondered, could be more captivating than the mysteries hidden between the fog? To Jimin, Namjoon, and Seokjin, the antics of stacking books was that and more. There were about ten, maybe thirteen books piling taller than Namjoon. Though it had the advantage of resting on the already raised table, it was still admittedly impressive since Namjoon was on the taller side. Jimin stood on the table with arms flattened and extended to steady his balance and to still his body from any shaking that could derail their handy work. 

“Yeah, Jin, stop leaning.” What Hoseok said was clean of genuine concern, made clear from how he’d bumped the table with his knee causing the pile to teeter side to side, yet not enough to actually knock it down. The other three boys held their hands toward the books as if the gesture would have actually saved it from toppling over.

“___, come over and help us steady the books! Hurry!” Seokjin’s request had you rushing over try and balance the stack wobbling nearly to a complete collapse.

“Do you guys wanna do something actually fun?”

If not for the almost bewitching inflection of Hoseok’s question, you would have maintained focus on keeping these towering books from falling. Though, he spoke with an implication that he possessed something that would whisk you away from boredom and you were still, a bit less unapologetically, reeled tight around his finger. So, your attention was spent on Hoseok until there was no more. Same with the others. All four eyes tossing an unrestrained marvel in place of a verbal answer to his question. The vigilant silence was enough to have Hoseok’s hand digging in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out a neatly rolled joint.

“No fucking way, we can’t do that in here… Right?” Although he wanted to sound doubtful, repulsed by the stick of weed between Hoseok's fingers, the question threaded along the end of Jimin’s doubt had a faint enthusiasm.

“Dickson’s stupid. We can just tell him it was a skunk.” 

“I think we should really evaluate our actions before we do them.” By we, he really meant Hoseok. Seokjin tried to act in place of a sort of parental guidance, though he knew now how unlikely his influence would take effect.

“You’re right. Let’s see.” He paused and inspected the joint pinched between his fingers, “I’m bored, in fact, we’re all bored. I have weed, I want to get high, being high is fun. My evaluation says we should definitely get high.” Mocking the frail advice from Seokjin, Hoseok evaded the logic behind what the other boy had presented with yet another sarcastic remark. No one else argued, even those who were strongly opposed to drug usage, because there would clearly be no avail in discouraging Hoseok. Not to mention, deep down, all your inexperienced hearts had a slight curiosity for the coveted thing in Hoseok’s hand. 

“That’s hardly an adequate evaluation, Hoseok.” Namjoon said, though he was already crawling with a rising inclination since a much less favorable boredom would have tormented him if he declined the offer. Jimin, Seokjin, and Namjoon drove through the traffic of worries and doubts and arrived at the destination where Hoseok was impatiently waiting.

“Fine, then I guess I’ll just enjoy this by myself then.”

“Wait! I’ll- um, I’ll go.” Jimin said and it was enough for Namjoon and Seokjin to admit defeat to their desires. Football season had not begun yet, neither the periodic drug tests, and there was a growing stress looming over them all that could be displaced by getting high.

The only one still fraught with a neurotic hesitation and clinging opposition that pushed back from the cohorts all in agreement was you. Marijuana had always deterred your fascination, even though you knew it was on the safer side of most drugs, and your virgin lungs feared it in the same way your stomach feared alcohol and your heart once feared Hoseok’s return in it. However, Hoseok had slithered his way back into your life and that wasn’t scary in the slightest. It was exciting and comforting, even, to be graced with his return and it made you question what else you had been missing out on.

“Alright. Dickson usually falls asleep around now because he gets tired after eating lunch. God, I hate that I know that. Anyway, this gives us the chance to sneak out to the second-floor bathrooms where there aren’t any fire detectors.” 

The timing of his plan mapped out a perfect escape, however timing was never one to do you any favors. 

As the others snuck past the ajar door to Dickson’s office, inside the vice principal was sure enough sound asleep, you remained in the library and watched the others, one by one, throw all caution to the wind. Hoseok’s stalled exit from the room was ushering you to a state of indecisive pacing. It was clear he was waiting for you, though Namjoon’s, Jimin’s, and Seokjin’s company would satisfy the quota for a proper smoking circle. 

“You don’t have to come if you don't want to. The offer still stands either way.” He spoke tentatively and his eyes were habitually resting on anything, your hands, your chin, your lips, the floor, and even the fogged window, but not your eyes. He could resist the magnetism of your eyes because he felt like he needed to, but surrendered to the way his feet carried him a few steps closer to you. Enough steps to work a fast beating into your heart. 

“I’m not going to pressure you. I wouldn’t do that, you know?” 

You knew he meant this genuinely. The only thing thus far that came out of his mouth without the stain of sarcasm. It was because of how genuine he sounded that made the rattle between your bones far more feverish than the shallow, meaningless jabs he’d made to and about you during today.

Why does it hurt when you talk softly? Why does what should feel like soft fleece burn like the friction of gravel against my skin? 

You branded these questions in the eyes unseen by Hoseok. It aches to know that you hated him all this time, and you just now realized his soft spoken voice had been reigned by you. Softly, like the inner child begging to be liberated from Hoseok’s protective skin. Softly, like when he said he wouldn’t do that to you, it came from a place in his heart ten years in the making and reserved wholly by you.

“I just…” His steps hushed you. The proximity of his body to yours had placed you in the eye of the hurricane, where it was quiet and calm and even softer than his voice. He radiated an energy that reminded you of something strong that was tired of being strong and on the verge of withering away; like a tall, old oak tree. Mighty, beaten down from the weather, and readying to lay in its tomb. 

You always were able to admit he was attractive. Anyone with functioning eyes could see that. The delicious sharpness of his facial features made for quite a face to look at. He was damn near perfect. But when did he become so beautiful? How did his sharp features soften to become delicate and lovely? The duality of this man was flexible, ranging from rough edges to rounded, gentle surfaces.

You believed his approach was to lead his quiet, soft voice to your ears because one had to be close - very close - for another to hear such a gentle tone. But he wouldn’t have achieved such closeness if it weren’t for the fortitude of longing and the smell of fresh linen and lemon that emigrated from you. Nor the gentleness of his voice could have been procured if the other three were still here. When it was just you, there was no reason to be anything but honest and gentle and close. Resistance was now undone by being with you and the timing of it all. It was peeling away more of Hoseok’s skin down to the bone and he allowed you to do this. Finding a place, the library, with someone, you, filled the hollow chasm of his chest with an oasis one could only classify as safety.

I want you to stay here with me. 

Wherever that thought surfaced from, whether it be the spirit of a younger you or the sentiment of the current you, it was too real to keep from choking back a few tears.

“___, I-” Before the words of an unbarred tongue expressed how he wanted to admit he missed you and lay out every reason for pushing you away in order to annul all the pain he caused both you and himself, Seokjin had peaked his head through the door quite similarly to the frantic way he previously exited it.

“Hey, are you guys coming or what?” His urgent whisper had melted the overwhelming feelings being exchanged through silent pauses and simultaneously reconstructed the wall that severed your friendship, or whatever you had with Hoseok. 

“___, you’re not coming?” Seokjin sounded friendly in his disappointment. If it weren't for the fact that what he was referring to was smoking pot then you would have joined simply because his tone had flipped into a sweet, inviting plea.

“No, sorry. I think I’m gonna hang back. Someone’s gotta keep watch for Dickson.” Hoseok exhaled with relief that you didn’t come. He didn’t want you to feel pressured and at least he could accomplish doing that.

The skin retraced its steps back onto Hoseok. And when you looked out the window, for you didn’t want to watch Hoseok leave you again, the fog was impervious. The tepid steps of his departure sounded similar to that of a ticking clock. Each tap moved time forward and Hoseok away from you.

When you looked back to the emptiness of the library, you wished you could follow him. It was too difficult. Not the walking itself, and joining them had only been one staircase away, but the following aspect of it. To follow him, to chase the man that left you like he did years ago, like a decomposed afterthought, was difficult because you feared to be met with dry rejection. You’d rather not venture off into the fog, and stay unharmed in the clearings.

 Hoseok should have, in the wise words of Seokjin, evaluated his actions before making any official commitments to them. His constant neglect of this crucial step had led him into quite disturbing situations, including this one.

It was a few minutes after the joint had been smoked to the stub of the filter. Hoseok tossed it in the toilet of the large stall they occupied. For the most part, the boys were silent and enjoying their highs. And Hoseok was silent as well, but his thoughts were under completely different circumstances. They were blaring around in his head with a sharp ringing.

The memory of you, his awareness of missing you, seeing you again, and finding that his ability to look into your eyes long expired had been a taxing precursor to getting high. It was a first to have his emotions heightened taller than a mountain because of his intoxication; most of the time it numbed his emotions and the world around him. Though, there is a first for everything and Hoseok was clamming up from all the guilt, loneliness, and longing ensued by the Indica making its way to his brain.

They were all talking by now, describing how they felt or if they were feeling any buzz at all. Namjoon was the first to be hit with a wave of high and he unceremoniously stood up to wash his hands because he insisted that he could ‘feel the germs crawling on his hands.’

Jimin and Seokjin were the next victims of the unspared joint. Jimin had been repeating the word “woah” until it was devoid of all meaning. 

Hoseok slipped under the spell last, but his high wasn't fermenting in the same light-hearted ways as the other boys’ highs. His harnessed a colossal weight that was an ounce away from being too much, from sending him into a fight or flight reaction. The stressor could only be the pent-up emotions that were billowing from his chest so wildly that there was no chance to inhibit or ignore it. Hoseok was not as high as the others, but high enough to send his dignity into the unreachable air. Soon, he couldn't tell if the discomfort in his skin was because of his high or his new discernment for this stifling barrier. 

The depth of this emotional hole was deeper than that of a dried well, and had left Hoseok to be somewhat of a benign lump to the conversation at hand.

“Guys, I think I’m peeing. I feel like I’m peeing. Am I peeing my pants right now?” Seokjin rose to a panicked stance, spinning and bending to check if there was any wetness seeping down the pant of his leg. Namjoon, who was still washing his hands, and Jimin had fallen into a debilitating laughter. Though even in a state of sobriety it would have perpetuated a hearty laugh, their elevated reactions were that of the high they were still riding, and based on Hoseok’s observations, wouldn’t be coming down from anytime soon. 

“Holy shit. Dude, just pee! we are literally surrounded by toilets.” It was a difficult task, but Jimin managed to squeak this out between his giggles. 

“I can't pee in front of you all! I get… I get pee shy.” They all noted, Seokjin was an exemplary companion to get high with. 

If Hoseok weren't entrapped in his thoughts of you, of fresh linen and lemon that seemed to be far more pungent than the remnants of weed wafting in the bathroom air, he would have tallied Seokjin as one of his go to smoking partners. Nothing deemed lucrative to distract him from what really mattered to him: 

Fresh linen and lemon and you, and his damn skin.

“You guys may make fun of me for my axe body spray but at least it’ll cover the weed smell.” Jimin gloated, hunchbacked and head lowered to check if the scent of weed clung to his clothes or hair.

“We’ve been in a closed room for like twenty minutes. Obviously, you’re not gonna smell the weed. ___’s probably gonna tell us that we smell like a walking dispensary.” Namjoon said with a chuckle. 

“Now you smell like Axe body spray and weed.” Seokjin hadn’t stopped patting down the inseam on his pants to make sure nothing was inordinately wet while throwing in an additional jab.

“We should be heading back soon.” The faucet finally shut upon hearing Hoseok’s suggestion. “You three go ahead first, I’ll hang back so Dickson doesn’t catch me with you all. God knows he would be way angrier to see me walking around with you three.” 

Namjoon dried his hands and nodded with red glazed eyes covered by partially deflated eyelids. Jimin stood up and yawned from the weed-induced drowse blanketing his own eyes and Seokjin’s eyes still scaled the expanse of his pant leg with hulking paranoia. 

In a line, they left the bathroom to house no one but Hoseok, the pungency of weed, and his memories. In Hoseok’s eyes, they were blindsided by one thing and one thing only.

 Ten years ago…

White faded to grey in the clouds hanging above your inattentive eyes. The sandbox with worn plastic digging tools and a red bucket was the only part of the world that mattered to you. Soon, everything else blurred into nothing. You liked the sandbox not for the majesty of castle building or the sandy canvas to carve the visions in your young, creative mind with the swipe of a finger, but because of its smallness and how there was no room for others to play in it if you were in it. That was undoubtedly a strange reason to enjoy a sandbox, especially since youth usually carried along with it a craving to meet the first friend you could find and stick with them through the trials and tribulations of elementary school. You were harder to please in the sphere of friendship, leaving you to take to the sandbox where there breached no worries of finding a companion. 

Your finicky little heart made you a feeble target for young, boyish bullies. The pleasure of picking on the loner of the grade often satisfied little boys of their brutish desires. You’d always been a bit docile, and perhaps too much for your own good. There was no need to fight back and usually their torments were no more damaging than paper cuts that would heal in less than one or two days.

Today, however, you were proud of the sand replica of the Andes Mountains, which was quite accurate in your own opinion. Having it grinded down to nothing, to a footprint of a bully’s unforgiving torture was the last straw. 

“What are you gonna do about it, loner?” One boy asked.

“Ha ha, good one!” The others cheered on his infantile belittlement.

You didn’t think words sanctioned a fitting reprimand for their actions which led you to throwing a handful of sand, aimed at their face. It wasn’t enough to do any physical damage, but it had been more than enough to elicit anger and fill the opened-mouthed laughs of the three other boys with the specks of dirt and other fine sediments. One boy cupped a clump of sand around a medium-sized rock and pelted your arm with it.

Hoseok, who had been sitting a few yards away, turned to see where the pained yelp originated. When his eyes laid on you and the way you had been rubbing a rock-shaped red mark on your left arm, he felt the muscles in his legs moving him before his brain told him to help you. Quite heroically, he leapt between the blockade of three boys and you, fists clenched and eyes narrowing to push the little roughness he had in his soft facial features against them.

“Leave. Go pick on someone else.” Hoseok warned with an edge that had two of the three boys tutting their heads down in shame.

“Oh yeah? What are you, ___’s boyfriend?” 

“I’m the guy who’s gonna beat you up if you don’t leave.” It had been the conviction in his voice that held all the power. The voice of an angel to you, and to them, the voice that made picking on the defenseless loner not worth the trouble. They all retreated to kick around dirt at each other giving Hoseok the chance to turn around and check your arm’s injury.

“Are you okay?” He sat down next to you, and to your surprise, there was just enough room for him in this tiny sandbox. 

“Yeah, it’s just a bruise. It’ll go away.”

“I’m sorry about those guys… I- I think they’re dumb jerks.” This little slight towards them was quite modest in comparison to how Hoseok spoke in his later years. It wasn’t intended to insult the bullies necessarily, but to show he was on your side. That you didn’t have to play in the sandbox alone anymore if he was lucky enough for your picky taste in friends to acquire a bias towards him

“Yeah, major jerks. They ruined my Andes Mountains.” You were shoving around some sand to piece together the broken sculpture.

“Why the Andes Mountains?”

“I don’t know. They’re cool! They’re super tall, have you seen them?” In some way, it wasn’t the mountains that were feeding your excitement and the discussion, though short, was much longer than anything you experienced before Hoseok. Not only did you ward off the few people that stumbled into your sandbox, but many kids began avoiding you altogether. 

“No, but I’ve seen pictures of other mountains.”

“I’ve seen them! They’re big and rocky and they go alllllll the way up to the sky!” Your arms shot up to mimic the mammoth Andes mountains. 

“I’ve never seen a mountain like that but I’ve seen a volcano.”

“Woah! Where?”

“It was on some beach. I don’t really remember.”

“You’ve been to the beach? I’ve always wanted to go! The beach is like one giant sandbox.” Hoseok chuckled at your fascination. If he could travel back in time, he would have befriended you long ago so you wouldn’t have to wish to go to the beach. You would have already been there - with him.

“It’s so fun! I found a jellyfish on the shore and threw it back into the ocean and it didn’t even sting me!” Now you had been laughing at his whimsical personality. 

“You’re weird… I like you.”

“Could I- Could I help you?” Hoseok asked this, already preparing himself to an untimely demise of his efforts to befriend you. 

You paused. Your empty arena of friends had gained a candidate well-suited for your liking. Even as a child, you knew the trope of ‘boys who bully you only do so because they have a crush on you’ was just a way to excuse the brazen attitudes of entitled little boys. Hoseok wasn’t like any of those boys. He was kind, he spoke gently when he asked to play with you. He fit into the sandbox with you and you didn’t mind the company. 

The answer was clear.

“Yeah sure. Grab a shovel!” You didn’t bother looking at him, though his eyes were immovable from you. 

“If you wet the sand it sticks together better.” He said, attempting to prove himself an asset to your sand mountain construction.

“I never thought about that. Thank you.” This piece of advice was the first of many gifts this boy would give to you. 

One could assume the rapid advancement of your affection towards him could be due to how easy it was for younger children to build attachments with one another. However, that could not single-handedly explain the way you already felt close to him and how when he wasn’t in the sandbox with you, the vast space was not comforting as it once was. Not in the slightest. It could not explain how you and him never fought over petty things such as sharing the red bucket or whose sandcastle was better. He, without fail, insisted yours was always best. How your fondness of him only grew whenever he handled you in a much more tender way than he handled the bullies, no longer coming around to throw rocks and mean words at you.

“Wanna have a playdate?” You proposed in an uncharacteristic lapse of valor. 

“Um…” The hesitance wasn't because he was opposed in the slightest to this offer, but the little details of his life that often got in the way of building normal relationships, “Yeah.”

“Yay! I just have to ask my mommy first. She will probably want to meet your parents.” You said while molding the sand into a pointed mound.

“I don’t…” He stilled his fingers against the dampened sand, hoping it would calm the fast pace of his heart. “I don’t have parents. I’m a foster kid.”

You didn’t give an immediate response, instead turning your attention over to the boy who was unable to move from mortification. It confused you that he felt ashamed of this, your young, well-intentioned mind unaware of the negative implications and stigmas that surrounded being in the foster system. You simply smiled.

“Well, that's ok! Mommy will just be happy I’m finally having a playdate.” You said, shearing away the depth to this aspect of Hoseok. He was surprised, and also comforted in the fact that him being a foster child was no bigger of a deal than the color of his hair or the size of his shoes. As if this trait of his was something normal. He felt normal with you, and his inexperienced heart couldn’t decorate the thankfulness he felt with the right words.

“I’m Hoseok, by the way.”

“I’m ___.”

And the rest was history.

With him, the world didn’t matter. The end of recess didn’t stalk your mind. The threat of mean boys had become unthreatening. The lonesome life that you were comfortable with now felt like pins and needles against your body. The idea of friendship that once felt like pins and needles was comfortable, with Hoseok. To think, you had been fooling yourself into believing you were okay with being lonely and that you would have never come to terms with the emotional poverty that being alone subjected you to if it weren’t for him. Because with him, you believed the byword adults would regularly preach ‘sharing is caring’. You nursed a considerable affection towards Hoseok to care for him and had now realized you had far too much space in your sandbox to not share it with him.

“Thank you for being my friend.” You said, in the wake of all the goodness of friendship he had introduced you to.

In sixth grade you weren’t worried about a new school or leeching onto a clique. The burden of belonging didn’t barge in on your life like it had most of your peers. You had the privilege of being best friends with Hoseok. He told you on the day of your fifth-grade promotion that middle school wasn’t so scary, not when he had you. There was nothing for you to do but trust in him, not because you had to, but because you wanted to and because you knew he would always be honest with you.

It was you, Hoseok, and the little sandbox against the world… until it was not.

Unlike the end of elementary school, the end of middle school was met with no such promises of the kindling allegiance Hoseok used to assure you of. You assumed it was because his consistency in your life now went without being said. However, you learned this was a terribly incorrect assessment.

The start of high school was when everything changed. The seasons cycled through right before your eyes, and you weren’t ready for the new semester of school that Autumn brought. What you had been even more unready for was the gradual disappearance of Hoseok from your life. When he’d been drawn to certain promiscuities and stopped coming over for the weekly visits and soon forgot the comfort of fresh linen and lemon. You wanted to ask him, or rather, plead that he wouldn’t drift. The only certainty in your life was becoming more and more unseen and, in his place, an evasive fog to renounce him from your vision altogether. There was nothing for you to do but let him go, not because you wanted to, but because you had to.

Because he stopped looking at you and forced a cold divide between you two without negotiation.

Eventually, you made friends though not nearly of the same caliber as Hoseok. Most of your connections felt shallow and a bit forced and you knew there was no way in hell you would have let them into the sandbox with you if you were a kid again. Not in the way you let Hoseok; you hated living with that knowledge.

It was horribly painful the way he tore the plant of his body from your life. He’d buried the seeds and began to fertilize your world with companionship and intimacy. He grew with every step that you grew, however the bud of your friendship hadn’t the chance to blossom before he ripped out every root tangled within the inner workings of your life.

He had abandoned you in the dark night of doubt and confusion and aloneness. Half of your broken heart was somewhat glad he didn’t tell you why he had done this because it would have been devastating to find out he simply didn’t like being around you anymore. That horrific thought that the need for you to be in his life grown to a rusted nonessential was second to aloneness in being the worst thing he left you with. The other half of your heart was dedicated to wishing he would walk into your life again.

Why would he do that to you? 

And more importantly, how could he do that to you? He knew there were no two things more fitting for each other than the two of you. So how could he dispose of the one thing that meant everything to you and leave it to rot in the soil with the rest of the broken, decaying promises? 

There was a reason, and he forbade himself from telling you. He was so ashamed of his bones that he decided to cover every fond memory and every scar that turned his skeleton textured with permanent divots with endless layers of skin.

The half of your heart that longed for him eventually merged with the other half that felt nothing but complete abandonment. The sandbox was of single occupancy once again. You hated him for that.

 Present day

Hoseok’s eyes were full. Not of bloodshot vessels along the whites of the eye and not of worry that Dickson would catch them. They were full, almost outweighing the irises, with none other than melancholy and tears. Real, wet tears. He could blink away the tears and wipe them on the sleeve of his flannel, but he couldn't disengage the melancholy, the utter sadness from infecting his eyes. 

Looking up at the tiled walls of the bathroom, there waxed a bitter disgust in his chest for going so long, far too many years, looking at anything that wasn't your eyes. His labored efforts to keep away from you, not even allowing himself the option to explain the purge of you from his life, was bitter. Disgusting. It filled him with more guilty tears. 

He wasn’t crying for himself or the pressing torture he had endured for the majority of his life. He was crying for you. He was crying for the fact that he couldn’t tell you all the reasons he’d left you and tarnished the purity of your smooth skin. He was crying for hurting you, he was not oblivious to it. 

Yes, he was crying. The portrait held a valid hypothesis of the future. An older Hoseok, crying for fear of losing you. For you.

He waited a few minutes longer, giving enough time to account for any sudden stops or distractions that might have been littered in the path of the other’s transfer back to the library. Hoseok stood, checking the mirror that the tears were dried, and the melancholy was clouded with a redeeming fog, and then made his way back to the library.

No one, not you, not even the thick skinned Hoseok could be immune to the commands of timing. It was unavoidable, the misfortune that timing would always sweep over the lives of you and Hoseok. Dickson was second to timing on being an unavoidable force of annoyance and persecution. Walking down the extensive, closed hallway gave Hoseok no possible divergent path to escape the hunt that Dickson seemed to be on. 

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here? I’m disappointed to say I’m not surprised to see you breaking the one rule I enforced.” The completely irrational and dictatorial rule that he had been referring to, of course, had Hoseok’s rejection of it written all over the way he strolled through the halls. 

Any number of excuses would have cushioned the blow of Dickson’s repercussive actions about to be set in a meticulous line. He could have said he honestly needed to relieve himself or that he was feeling nauseous and needed some air and a quick lap around the halls. But he didn’t want to make excuses for himself. 

Hoseok had been parading around this Saturday as if he had enough skin to protect him against the external forces of you, Dickson, even the other three boys. He was tired, reaching the apex of a tall cliff, climbing and climbing to what seemed like an abstracted end without the comfort of a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on during this tiresome journey. And now, he just wanted to let his body fall down the agglomeration of his own barricades.

“I was smoking weed in the bathroom.” His defeat from trying and his apathy towards Dickson’s belligerent blows left him on the bottom of the cliff. There was no use in standing, in climbing again. No use but to fall and wait for the day to end.

Dickson took this vulnerability to his advantage. He was all too quick and far too eager to sink his teeth into the thin skin on Hoseok. As he was drinking the juices of all the power he felt entitled to, his thirst grew morbid, thinking the only way to quench it was to swallow every last drop of dignity from Hoseok’s body.

“You, Hoseok. You act like you’re top dog. You do whatever you want, whenever you want, and what does that leave you with? You’re never going to be satisfied. You’re gonna end up empty and broken just like the family you never had.” This was beyond crossing the line. Dickson had stomped over it, pummeled it into mush, spit his dirty hatred in it, and perverted every aspect of Hoseok’s life that had once been latched safely behind the line. “No wonder you’re such a troublemaker. You’re desperate for any sort of attention or authority because you never had the father figure in your life to set you straight. And even if you did, even if the world gave you every privilege and shortcut to living a better life, you would still probably be empty, broken, and useless to everyone around you. What are you gonna do? You’re gonna graduate in a year and I can safely bet you have no plans. You’re going to end up a nobody. A loser. Just another unwanted orphan.” 

The Hoseok four hours ago would kiss his knuckles against Dickson’s lip before he had the chance to finish grinding him to a pulp with those words. The Hoseok at twelve o’ clock, four hours older, was tired and swept in his anguish of losing you, or perhaps letting you go, or even worse, pushing you away. The tonnage of all these put his head into a haze and he couldn’t see Dickson, not that he wanted to. He couldn't see you, your eyes, even when he fell to his knees and begged the universe for that. He couldn’t smell fresh linen and lemon, only the faint memory of them which was quickly fading. The fog was surrounding, enclosing, imprisoning him but for what crime? For being the one who never seemed to be at the right place at the right times?

“Get your ass back to the library, Jung.” Dickson let this command roll off his tongue as if he’d been dubbed a place on a shiny pedestal. As if anyone in their right minds would have honored him for degrading the most fragile parts of Hoseok and shredding the sensitive skin of the man already fallen to the base of a cliff.

Wordless, visionless, Hoseok walked in a slump past Dickson to the library. Though, this book-filled prison felt safer than outside. Because it had you, it had the memory of your laughs and your eyes. It had the people who, though annoyed, still cared to give him more respect than he deserved. 

And everyone, especially you, were increasingly worried about the amount of time it took Hoseok to get back. The others almost settled on the conclusion that he had been caught and put in some sort of solitary confinement by Dickson. Toes curling and hands fisted, you prayed that he would return. You prayed and it cleared all the hatred from you, still leaving a few stains of resentment for him. You resented him, but hated? Not in the slightest. 

It was shocking, more so than your hatred of him, how in just four hours your animosity transformed into something tame and a little bit bruised and quite dramatically opposite of hatred. In hatred, one wants nothing to do with the other. In resentment, one seeks resolve with the other. You wanted him here and you wanted his eyes to make contact for longer than thirty seconds to make some sort of amends. 

“I’m guessing what's worrying you right now isn’t your essay?” Namjoon tacked a concern in his question and through the way he had been staring at the empty seat behind you, there was no doubt he was talking about Hoseok.

“I don’t know why I care. He’s the one who decided to leave.” The low hanging grin was the best ‘I’m fine’ face you could pull. It was no use against someone like Namjoon who, within seconds, painted a part of you gone unvisited by anyone, including yourself. “He probably ditched. He can never commit to anything.”

“Ouch. Didn’t know you took detention so seriously.” You and him were well aware that these questions were void of their surface meaning. The connotations strung onto his every word had encoded his knowledge of what was really going on and he was about to get it out of you. “You and him were friends in middle school right? I think I remember. You guys would always eat lunch together.”

You were about to correct him and tell him you’d actually been friends since the first grade, but you decided against it. What were you trying to prove by saying that, anyway?

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.” 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to pry.”

“No, it's nothing you have to be sorry about. It’s probably nothing he has to be sorry about either. It's just me setting my expectations too high and disappointing myself.” You paused to stilt the quiver in your voice about to crack through your words. No one had ever asked about what happened with you and Hoseok. No one had ever cared enough to even wonder. This was a first for you.

“I don’t see it that way. I think he’s lonelier than he lets on.” Namjoon wasn’t sure of what he was trying to prove, but he certainly harnessed more emotional intelligence than you had assumed. 

You suddenly felt guilty for doing the lazy thing of resigning him to a label, a slightly dehumanizing one at that, without even having one full conversation with him. 

“Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I don't know. I’m not sure why I said that, but I just felt like I needed to say sorry. You’re a good guy, Namjoon.” The grin bubbling from your lips was not a front this time. You were genuinely, profoundly touched by the way he’d shown you compassion about the Hoseok situation like no other did. 

“Thanks, I guess.” He chuckled at the randomness of it, but knew you meant well and that you fully knew why you were apologetic. Feeling seen past the stigma pinned on his back, he knew you only meant well.

Right when you were about to give up and mark this as another self-designed hope that failed to be upheld, timing came to your aid. 

For once, it did and it brought Hoseok with it.

“I just got chewed out by Dickhead.” 

Despite the sting, the way he rubbed against the raw wound left by Dickson, it felt better than admitting it hurt him so. To make light of his deepest cuts and sprinkle a bit of his own salt in the wound, well, that was what Hoseok specialized in.

Seokjin, still riding on the waves of his high, walked over to Hoseok and wrapped him in a hug as if he had been gone for days. Hoseok stood still, he didn’t return the hug, nor did he shove Seokjin off of him. It wasn’t because he fancied a hug from this strange boy, but more so he felt too awkward to move or even react.

“Dude, we thought you died. We thought he killed you.” Eventually, Hoseok gathered the resolve to lightly nudge Seokjin from his personal space. 

“Well, I’m alive so you can stop hugging me.”

“Hoseok, what happened? Did he get you in trouble?” You sounded far more concerned than the rest. You really wanted to know if he was okay, but you found that it filtered through your throat with an overly mild expression of that. Still, he caught this, along with every other subtlety in your voice, and wanted more than anything to tell you the truth.

No, he thought, He did something far worse. I would have rather taken a lifetime of detentions than to have been forced to witness the sickeningly honest criticisms Dickson threw into my already melancholy, tearful eyes. How he left that interaction unscathed and I was drenched in the pain of facing my truth.

But the words didn't come out. He didn’t feel like anyone would care about what he said anyway, and he didn’t feel like dragging you into more of his issues.

“He just got all worked up about his no leaving the room policy. The usual ‘how dare you go against me’ sort of speech. I honestly didn’t really pay attention.” His eyes trailed to the floor.

“What a dick. Sorry, man.” Jimin said while yawning, unrecovered from the Indica induced drowsiness.

“Yeah sorry, but I’m sure you got in a few good comebacks, right?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah, for sure.” Hoseok would have otherwise been boasting about the way he fired back against Dickson. You were expecting that, and when it failed to come you knew something was wrong.

Namjoon had been drawing a new picture while he asked this. Absent-mindedly enough to not notice Hoseok’s shaken behavior. The sketch was of the five of you, sitting in a circle. It was laid back, with a touch of delight that shed the new bond forming between you all into a visible light. No one in that room would have guessed this Saturday to turn out the way it did, however none of you really cared for the alternative outcomes. You were all just glad you were living through this one. 

The one that was encapsulated by the painting, the erasure of circumstantial union by a wave of perfectly crafted comradery. This wasn’t some deep insight of Namjoon’s, not like the ones in the individual portraits he drew. This was not of blind guesses or improbable hopes. This was clear to him, to you, to everyone. 

There were no such distractions to clamor your notice of his timid mannerisms. The way he walked a bit too quietly to his desk as if someone had stripped him down to nudeness for all eyes to witness. And just like before, when he first walked into the library, he found his seat without a single glance in your direction. Though, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel frustrated with him. Not when his worries were more real and devastating than his portrait. 

This time it was different on two accounts. One, your ambition for him to look to you was not so you could relish in the guilt tripping stare he would be met with. The reasons you wanted him to look to you now was because you wanted him to know he was seen and was anything but alone. Whatever Dickson said or did was not a burden he had to shoulder on his own. And two, he didn’t sit behind you, didn’t try to avoid the unavoidable. He sat right next to you, in the scant space of your table, and there was enough room for him; even in the smallest spaces, there would always be enough room for him anywhere you were.

The scenery of him was bringing it all back. The sandbox, the mountains of sand, the young savior with the heart of gold. The love of having him by your side and the pain of his gutting absence. The roots of him were sliding back between your veins, once again seeking habitat for the bloom of friendship, or something more. 

Look at me, you wanted to say. I’m finally able to see you again. Can you see me? We’re all here, Hoseok. Jimin, Namjoon, Seokjin, and me. We’re all here, waiting for your eyes. Waiting to see the bones beneath your skin.

“Hobi, are you okay?” This time you made sure your whisper only touched Hoseok’s ears.

“I don’t know. I don't know anymore.” He couldn’t see you and he had no idea you had been waiting for him, in the fog, all this time. 

 One week ago

The text read that the study group you had been invited to join, courtesy of your friend Lisa, had a study session on the second-floor study room. It wasn’t to hang out, just to study, and you wished it would be more than that. At least a part of you did. The other part of you, the one still hung up on something that happened long ago and the same part of you that liked to play in the sandbox alone, didn’t care that most of your friendly interactions had been surface level. 

One day, you’d meet with a few friends for coffee, or another you’d meet up with a group to study, and the more you hung out with people, the less personal friendship began to feel.

Friendship without Hoseok began to feel like a business exchange, or a mechanical interaction that had become overproduced and of less quality. Like pulling the same lever repeatedly, until it became a boring chore. Not to say you didn’t appreciate it. Though shallow, trite, and forced, it was more than Hoseok ever gave you these days.

But the text made you feel lonely, like an add on or an afterthought. Simply someone to fill an extra seat at the table. You wanted to feel like you weren’t just going through life without connecting, but connections were placed at such a high standard, thanks to Hoseok, that they were hard to come by.

Your teacher passed you through the halls, you tried to avoid eye contact but that made it even more obvious you didn’t want to talk to her. You both exchanged a cordial greeting and flung a few thoughtless comments about the weather into the mix to prevent any awkwardness. It was raining, you said. The rain looked like it was going to clear up, but still looks foggy out there, your teacher responded. She walked to her office and you returned to reality. 

Your reality. Alone.

You stared at the bulletin board and the dozens of neon colored flyers for new clubs and campus organizations. Band? You were hardly the musician. Physics? Barely passing Chemistry answered that quickly enough. Chess? You’d rather be lonely. Maybe it was pathetic, but you wondered why there wasn’t a club for finding people. No underlying activity, no common hobby shared amongst the group, just a club to help a few lonely souls feel a little less lonely. For people who had a hard time meeting friends and an even harder time keeping them. Where was that club?

You walked past the school’s cafe, not needing the caffeine to wind yourself up over the impeding awareness of how alone you felt today. Monday. The day of reckoning it seemed. When you felt alone, as you did today, your thoughts could only gather memories of Hoseok to cheer you up. To remember that once you weren’t so alone, it definitely felt better than remembering you were alone.

You and Hoseok had been diametrically opposed ever since the gradual end of your friendship. He’d become somewhat of a rebel and you stayed humbled and quiet. The once parallel lines of your souls running along the span of seven years together had diverged, his line east and yours, west, by the time you hit the eighth year. 

Today, all alone, you decided to start walking east. Not that you were looking for Hoseok necessarily, you were simply hoping to find something, or someone. It was that decision, along with the various others, that had you walking east and trying to get home before the rain fell again. You could have been surrounded by a group of classmates by now, who were half discussing the contents of the next Statistics exam and half meandering about what they were going to do this weekend, but that wouldn’t change the fact that you felt alone. 

Just like the one who played in the sandbox, you’d rather be alone while feeling alone. Though solitary walks in the rain meant you weren’t of any access to distractions. You began to wonder, which was never a good thing in your case, why you felt alone? There must be something wrong with you. Everyone else seemed to get along with the idea of friendship no matter the depth of them. You had concluded maybe ‘sociable’ wasn’t programmed in your DNA because sometimes you found yourself absolutely hating the idea. But that couldn’t be true because there was a part of your life that you spent loving the idea. Not just the idea, but the real deal as well. What could it be then? What was the reason you walked alone this Monday afternoon?

There he was. The moment you saw him you knew he was the reason.

“Hoseok.” You hadn’t felt those syllables in that order fall from your lips for quite some time, only hearing it in your head made him seem nearly unreal. But he was real, so was his name.

He had a cigarette stuck between his lips, then soon his fingers, leaning on the seat of his jet-black motorcycle. You were walking closer to him, slowly, like the way one would approach a wild animal so not to scare them off. Your steps drew you back to first grade again, and proximity wise, you were just as close to him as you were in the sand box. However, your hearts hadn’t even been in the same country.

“Do you need something?” The worst part about what he said was the fact that he didn’t mention your name. As if your name hadn’t crossed his mind in four years unlike how his was practically branded between the wrinkles of your brain. As if, to him, losing you was nothing more than a check off of some to-do list, a chore, a burden he was just trying to get over with. So, it was absolutely pathetic what you thought immediately in response to what he asked.

I need you.

“You smoke?”

“No, I just like holding cigarettes in my mouth.” Your eyes rolled to this, feeling a shockwave disassembling the Hoseok you remembered in your head. He was entirely new, not the boy who liked to go to the beach and played with sand, and you had a hard time recognizing him with this new skin he wore and the fog that, as your teacher guessed, was thickly lurking through the air. 

“How are you?” You thought this was a dumb question because you knew he would answer with some short winded, meaningless ‘good’ or ‘fine’ or maybe he wouldn’t even say anything at all, leading to a fateful dead-end to this dragged out conversation. It was enough to make you equally eager and exhausted. If you could call what you felt for him with words, it would be hate. Probably.

His face looked paler than it had before, and his hands looked like it would feel like ice if you touched them. You used to touch them all the time, and they were warm and looked just as warm as they felt. If you touched them now, would they be as cold as his voice? Would he even let you?

“I’d say I’m quite annoyed that someone decided to interrupt my peace and quiet.” He flicked the butt of the cigarette to shave a few ashes off the end of the stick. You just shook your head at how he didn’t hide the way he dodged your questions with insincerity.

“Sorry, jeez... How the tables have turned.” 

“What?”

“Oh just that,” You paused to wonder if him asking what you meant was some subtle indication he wanted to continue talking to you but you settled your bets on that being wishful thinking. Besides, you hated him so why should you care? “Way back when, I remember the roles were reversed. You were the one interrupting my peace and quiet.”

“I distinctly remember saving your life.” To you, no matter how desperate it was, any sort of mild banter with him was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, treasured with the memories stored in your chest. This was certainly the case being that in almost four years, the little he said to you now was the most he’d probably ever say to you in the rest of your lifetime. You took what you could get, after all, beggars can’t be choosers.

“Okay, calm down, you saved me from getting sand in my hair and down my pants.” You laughed and took a subconscious step closer to him. Carefully, lightly as not to scare him away because Hoseok looked stiff and distant minded when he saw you move towards him.

The mumble was registered clearly by Hoseok from the way you watched his partial scowl transform into a barely intelligible smile. You saw it, despite how small it was, and you missed the way he looked when he smiled at you. You missed knowing why he smiled, since right now you had no idea what prompted him to curve his lips the slightest bit upwards. More than that, you missed being the reason he smiled. That was selfish, maybe, and far-fetched from the looks of the gaping distance he seemed to be as comfortable with as you were uncomfortable.

“Li-”

“You-”

“Oh, you go.” His and your eyes were both fixed on the cigarette twirling between his fingers. And though you haven’t talked to him in a while, you knew that the tapping and twirling of his fingers was one of his habits to soothe his nervousness. 

Was he nervous? 

You wanted to carve the part of your brain dedicated to overthinking, specifically when it came to Hoseok, out of your skull. You hated the fact that you overanalyzed his every movement down to the twitch of his ears more than the fact that you cared enough to do so in the first place, and you hated that more than the man himself.

“You shouldn’t put that stuff in your body.” From the way his eyes didn’t move from the cigarette, it felt like you could have said nothing at all. He brushed it aside as if he was never intending on listening to you in the first place.

No, you thought, not Hobi. He would care, I think. He has to care enough about himself to keep his body healthy. And for some reason, above all the other overthought thoughts, that one seemed to scare you the most. If he didn’t care about you anymore, and he didn’t care about himself, then did he care about anything at all?

“Mm.” His gruff response fit unfortunately well with his hand, the one with the cigarette, that was moving towards his mouth again as if it were some act of defiance against you. 

Your hand moved to curl around his wrist, which began a new set of overthought thoughts about how rough his skin felt against your hand. Soon, you found your thumb grazing softly along the underside of his forearm. It was you double checking to make sure this was the same skin as the Hoseok you knew before, an accidental gesture born out of instinct rather than methodic planning, something that, if he asked, you wouldn’t be able to explain. For the time being, you did everything you could to investigate where his new nihilistic attitude had bloomed from.

Before the ten second mark of this abnormal, slightly familiar contact, you channeled every neuron in your body to signal your hand to let go of him. He seemed blind sighted enough for you to snag the cigarette out of his hands and into your own.

“Do you want a hole in your neck?” 

“What are you doing?” He didn’t sound as angry as you expected him to be. Moreover, he looked worried which under sighted your awareness of the deft approach to reach for his cigarette back.

“Like I said, the tables have turned. Now, it’s me who’s saving your life.” 

Before you could throw it on the ground and flatten out the flame with your shoe, you braced for the unforced mistake of looking into his eyes and seeing nothing. All that was sitting in the socket of his eyes was a lusterless fog. You wanted to see his eyes more than you wanted him to care, which was an odd transition being that his care had been the top priority ever since freshman year. Your hands were gloved by warm cotton, but you would have taken them off to hold his hand and make them warm with yours.

“Hey!” You thought that was just in your head. Maybe the voice of reason to advise you from holding his hand because that would be extremely weird to do to an estranged friend. But it wasn’t a voice of reason that stopped you, it was quite possibly the worst person to stumble upon this encounter. “No smoking on campus!”

You turned around and saw Dickson’s manic expression then immediately turned to the cigarette that was in your hand. 

Shit.

“I can explain! It wasn’t-”

“Can it, ___! No excuses.” Dickson’s eyes trailed to the pack of cigarettes that the one in your hand was sourced from. He didn’t say anything, just shook his head and reached into the pocket of his blazer to pull out that notorious pink pad of detention slips. With nothing more than a smug grin flashed like bright headlights against you and Hoseok, one that you would grow to hate more than anything, Dickson turned and strut away with long strides and an elevated self-esteem.

“Looks like I’ll be seeing you this Saturday, princess.” He smirked. To you, it was a mockery and some sort of reprisal for taking his hand and his cigarette soon after. 

“Fuck you.” You turned away to walk a petty five or so yards away from him before some gravitational force pulled your head to turn back to him. To see if he was watching, perhaps waiting for you to walk back over to him but sure enough he’d kicked his leg over the seat of his motorcycle and started the engine long before you walked halfway towards where you were left to do nothing but watch him leave. He became smaller and smaller, hazier and hazier, and then unforeseeable in the fog.

You watched him leave, and you were almost sure you hated him.

 One week ago

[Hoseok’s POV]

It was enraging and inconvenient for the weather to fog up right as school let out. Hoseok had more trouble driving his motorcycle when there was too much clutter in the air that disoriented the view of the road. He rarely stayed on campus for longer than he needed to, but it looked like he needed to. On the brighter side of things, Hoseok didn’t have to return to his foster house that smelled of old, wet, rotting rags and sounded of strained but persistent screams of his foster parents. 

Even sitting in the fog, sucking in the burn of nicotine, was better than going back there. Days similar to these, days intruding his week more often than not, he found himself stuck between a place he wanted nothing to do with and a place he could envision through a pixelated glare that brought him warmth, quiet tranquility, fresh linen, and lemon. The arms that would meet his body and wrap him snug against another body, then the excited face of yours that met with his equally excited face. 

It was a shame he could only live out these delights through an array of distant artifacts far too old to expel the loneliness from his heart.

Monday was whirling him through a pool of memories he’d rather keep covered up; it was winter and there was no need to swim in such a pool unless he deemed the risk of freezing to death a tenable substitution for smoking cigarettes in the fog. But it was not a matter of whether he would willingly dive into the pool, rather it was whether or not he could keep himself from falling in or even being pushed in.

Hoseok hadn’t seen your face in nearly four years. Of course, he saw you around the campus, strolling the halls or sitting in the cafeteria. He hadn’t seen your face, however, the way he used to look at it before high school. When he was a child free to flagrantly admire what his heart fancied as beautiful, there was no remorse or guilt from the way his eyes brazenly printed the details of your face into his memory. The creases at the sides of your mouth, the ends of your eyes that were pushed closed by the force of your cheek, and the number of teeth visible when you would smile had been graphed out like a mathematical equation; he was of the few that could solve it between the interval of two seconds. He knew where the inner portion of your eyebrows began and how far down the tip of your nose rested on your face along with the lining of your hair scaling the top of your forehead better than he knew any geographical map studied in school.

Most importantly, he studied your eyes more meticulously than he had his own eyes. Not your arms, or hands, or even the support of your legs could carry as much as your eyes. Hoseok liked to look at them when you smiled because they held the softness of a blanket after a tiring day burdened by a snowstorm. He could see it so clearly, a vast cloth in your eyes made specifically to wrap around a body in need of warmth.

But when you were angry, they held the wildest fires that would burn down anything in their line of vision. No matter how difficult it was to look at your eyes when they were sad, he was familiar with the molting roses that made your tears look like wilting petals; it was unsurprising that even in sadness, you shed beauty from your eyes. 

To him, you were the most beautiful being he’d ever gotten the chance to see.

He loved seeing your face, even if the only way he could do so now was through the partially disfigured memories of his younger self. He was sad to say he had no current frame of reference to jar in his mental gallery of you. There was no way he could look at you on the will of his own because he was afraid to unsheathe the distance and repression set to protect you from him

There was no way, because he would have probably fallen in love with you all over again.

He was about to leave, but a gust of wind blew him towards the decision to smoke one more cigarette before surrendering to the house that smelled and felt quite the opposite of one place he truly considered his home. 

And then he saw you. Walking slowly, and you looked so frightened of him. In all fairness, there was no reason for you to look at him with anything other than repugnance and unease because he turned quite jagged over the years.

You, however, were a relic of the past. Like a highly revered piece of art in a museum of grandeur, with the flawlessly manicured, picturesque beauty that couldn’t be bothered with the touch of Hoseok’s calloused hands. He could only stare from behind the velvet roped boundary that kept his body from melting into the art of you.

“Hoseok.” Your voice doubled down on the apprehension that tensed your walk up to him. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, feeling it inappropriate to have such a foul thing in his mouth if he were to greet you. 

You looked so beautiful. So different from the thinly spread memories of your face; your cheeks had grown into maturation but still maintained a soft innocence. When he looked in your eyes, he did not see roses or raging fires or warming blankets, in fact, he could barely recognize them let alone see what they were holding. It hurt more than the smoke battering his lungs.

Get your shit together. Get away from ___. He reminded himself in an incriminating manner.

“Do you need something?” How he had the ability to keep his mind wrapped around you but spewed words forcing you away was beyond any comprehension. Nonetheless, he did it, simultaneously scolding and applauding himself for not reverting to the version of him that would have greeted you with a soft hug or loving smile.

“You smoke?” The disappointment packed into your voice put him at an odd with himself. 

Finding the frustration plowing through his chest, he processed these self-aggressions through a misdirection onto an unsuspecting victim. One he never thought deserving to be the target of his projected anger, but then again, it was the only way to hinder your warm hands from digging beneath his skin.

“No, I just like holding cigarettes in my mouth.” He exhaled relief, along with the rest of the smoke inhabiting his lungs, that you had rolled your eyes. His charade was fooling you into annoyance, keeping you just out of his reach where you belonged. 

“How are you?” Or maybe this act of his was not working as well as he thought, since you padded these questions down like you had nothing better to do. Hoseok began to feel worried, the brimming loneliness was about to unleash through the conversation you were, for some reason, trying to initiate.

If you were to go away, it would break me again. But, at least, it would keep my skin intact.

“I’d say I’m quite annoyed that someone decided to interrupt my peace and quiet.” He freed his cigarette from the ashes bunching at the end, hoping you would mimic this riddance. Maybe you would see he had burnt your body to an ash, and sooner or later the entire cigarette would fall away to black dust. If you saw that, would you finally have the sense to leave him?

He couldn’t stand looking at your eyes. To behold such beauty, suspended from any chance to have your body against his was nothing less that torture to him because he was so very cold, and you looked like you harbored enough warmth in your fingertips alone to cure him of it.

“Sorry, jeez… How the tables have turned.” 

Hoseok bit down against the side of his cheek hard enough to steal a bit of blood from his gums and to keep him from asking what your eyes were holding today, and if you would be so kind as to give him a piece of it to feed his empty, starving eyes.

So, he settled on:

“What?”

“Oh just that,” Hoseok panicked in the span of your brief pause. Could you notice he was asking for a bit of your eyes and warmth? He was fucking everything up as usual, he thought. “Way back when, I remember the roles were reversed. You were the one interrupting my peace and quiet.”

The jig had not been up yet, thankfully.

“I distinctly remember saving your life.” 

“Okay, calm down, you saved me from getting sand in my hair and down my pants.” When you stepped close to him, the film of fear once guarding your walk was scraped clean which led to more silent punishment for letting his selfish indulgences of your company get the best of him. 

His muscles couldn’t resist the smile bubbling under the thick skin on his lips. Not even skin, or fog, could hide the smiles that never seemed to run short with you. 

And it was the step, or how miserably trapped in the purgatory he felt, or how he smelled fresh linen and lemon exuding from your hair and clothes that pushed him into the pool of memories he’d been walking around, but avoiding submergence. 

It was deathly freezing. Now, he was fully submerged in the fluid-filled vat of your memories, however. It wasn’t the bone chilling frigidity of the water that had him reaching his arm out and gasping for air, but the enticing warmth of your body that stood above him, as if you were waiting for him to reach to your aid, for you to fill his depraved lungs with linen and lemon tinted oxygen.

“Li-”

“You-”

“Oh, you go.” He believed it was better that you spoke.

“You shouldn't put that stuff in your body.” 

The broken levers and switches and pulleys which made up the inner mechanisms of his body found your banal suggestions as the only surge of kindness his old machinery had felt for a while. He’d heard it before; the Health Education segments, the anti-smoking adverts, the doctor’s orations tunneling out of his ears as quickly as they entered. But your words were caught like traffic in his head, so much that it blocked all entry of a fiery retort to pass through his mouth.

“Mm.” He mumbled because you were right. He shouldn’t be smoking; he shouldn’t be doing a lot of things but some of his actions felt out of his control at this point of his life.

Unprepared could not describe the intense degree of shock Hoseok felt when your fingers wrapped around his wrist so attentively. He was reaching his arm out, waiting to be removed from the cold and isolated pool he’d fallen into (or perhaps pushed into by you), but he never expected his hand to be met. He predicted he would spend eternity reaching to no avail, left to drown in this chilling pond of memories that rendered him frozen in the world of the past. Instead, his body reunited with the dryness of the air.

Hoseok hoped you couldn't feel the embarrassingly quick speed of his pulse with your thumb that rested right against his artery.

“Do you want a hole in your neck?”

He would have responded with: Could it be any worse than freezing to death?

“What are you doing?” His expressionless visage, one labored with hiding his worry, had fallen away from his face. 

The way the cigarette looked in your hands had him nearing a faint. To him, it felt like an accessory, like a bracelet or a belt, like it belonged in his hands. But when you held it, the small stick looked like it was going to leave permanent stains of corruption along your skin. It was absolutely abhorrent in your fingers. Any second, your entire body would be lurking with his repulsive residue and he thought it would kill him before it killed you.

“Like I said, the tables have turned. Now, it's me who’s saving your life.” 

That was the tipping point for him. The surge of tender nostalgia. The last bid of persuasion he needed to grab your wrist instead and press his mouth against yours, warm and wet and gentle. And he would have done exactly that, he would have kissed you and offered his last breath to your lungs if not for the unexpected saving grace that arrived in the form of a bitter vice principal.

“Hey!” Dickson’s approach was followed with the inevitability of detention. Hoseok only knew this to be true because even when he wasn’t smoking on campus or doing something that would elicit a detention, Dickson always found a way of weaving in reason to prosecute Hoseok. “No smoking on campus!”

“I can explain! It wasn't-” 

“Can it, ___! No excuses.” Hoseok was in his own world now, counting down the seconds until the pink slip of detention would be presented in front of him on a rusty silver platter. When Dickson walked away, he found it fitting to begin breathing once again.

“Looks like I’ll be seeing you this Saturday, princess.” The mischief in his smirk bred the annoyance back into your chest, which was his goal of course. Before he got the chance to enact his sinful deed to close the space between your lips and his, he hopped on his motorcycle and wheeled himself to a safe distance. 

Cold and lonely, but safe.

He had the rest of the week to figure out how in the hell he was going to spend an entire day with you without looking into your eyes and breaking through the already vulnerable skin. 

 12:00 - 2:00

“Are you okay?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”

About two minutes after Jimin’s head took a dive, landed against the solid wood of the table, and snapped back awake, he looked a bit confused and tried to reattach himself to reality.

“Does anyone know what time it is?” 

“Twelve ten.” You and Namjoon answered in unison like you had been keeping track of every minute that passed since eight o’clock. 

“Time isn’t real.” The still high and rosy cheeked Seokjin mumbled out through a cluster of thoughts bumping around the otherwise empty space in his brain.

“I’m going to punch you.” Hoseok said, feeling sensitive to irritation after the denigration he had just undergone courtesy of a washed-out vice principal.

“Hoseok.” Your tone was a punishing command that needn’t more than the one-worded sternness to make Hoseok huff lightly in adherence. 

“It’s been,” Jimin paused to count with his fingers, “four hours already? It honestly hasn’t felt like it’s been that long.”

“Well, you know what they say.” Namjoon commented this with no further explanation as if Jimin had any actual clue to what the other boy was referring to.

“What? What do they say?” Jimin responded, expectant for the explanation.

“I know. Is it that time isn’t real?” You tried not to laugh at Seokjin’s re-utterance of his thoughts that were polished over with an intoxicated glaze, knowing your approbation to him would further aggravate Hoseok into actually punching Seokjin.

“How are you still that high, Jin?” Namjoon said through a soft chuckle.

“I don’t know it’s kind of freaking me out now. Am I gonna be high for the rest of my life?” 

“No and no. It’s that time goes by faster when you’re having fun.”

“That’s rich.” Hoseok took it upon himself to point out the irony and wicked hypocrisy of the insinuation that Jimin was having, of all things, fun with the four of you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin had almost forgotten Hoseok seemed to get the most satisfaction out of picking at Jimin specifically. 

Jimin wasn’t the easiest target since he was the furthest from a social pariah, Seokjin and Namjoon filled that slot, but he had both a namesake of being a star football player and a pyramidal structure of friends to lose from Hoseok’s unforgiving tongue. This made it much more satisfying to Hoseok.

“I just would have never guessed you would get off your high horse for a few hours to join the rest of us lowlifes. Consider me flattered.” This wasn’t the first or last sarcastic remark to whip tirelessly against Jimin however it was enough for Jimin to feel deserving of answers.

“Where do you keep getting this idea that I think of you guys as lowlifes?” 

“Oh, you wanna know?” Hoseok said, finding the clutter of denial Jimin had congregated around himself both ignorant and audacious. Even Namjoon and Seokjin found it astounding how gullible Jimin was towards his own refusal to admit an all too terrible truth.

“Please, enlighten me.” In the simplest terms, Jimin was in over his head to take on such a challenge with the amount of overzealous egoism in his voice. It felt like an affront, the ignorance shrouding him, to the experiences of the minnows that had to walk the halls with their heads hung low in order to avoid an unsolicited and traumatizing attack from the sharks of your school.

As much as Jimin didn’t want to acknowledge it, he was a shark, and the rest of you were minnows.

“Why don’t you tell everyone why you got detention?”

Jimin stiffened to a stone-like manner. It was petrifying to even move, let alone speak on behalf of his actions that led him here. He didn’t have his posse of dim-witted friends to protect him, nor the freedom of avoidance being trapped in the library. There was, for once, nowhere for Jimin to turn to other than the four faces of those deserving of his explanation.

“Well?” Hoseok coaxed.

“Damn, was it that bad?” Seokjin was worried he placed too much hope on Jimin’s shoulders. He wanted to believe Jimin was one of the good ones, or better ones at least. That out of his friends, Jimin would be the one to do the right thing because it would have been nothing short of betrayal if he relinquished himself to the cowardice of the ‘follow the leader’ mindset plaguing Jimin’s group of friends.

Perhaps it was the razing hues of the cheap fluorescent lights in the library, but there was a strange brightness illuminating this room in particular. Out in the halls, it was darker and easier to miss the faces of passing students. So dark that when you first stepped into the library, your eyes felt a slight burn and was forced to readjust to seeing with clarity for once in quite a long time. 

In the library, there was no way to miss their faces. Maybe if you closed your eyes it would have been easier and the burn of the lights infiltrating your retinas would be boiled down to a grazing sting but now wasn’t the time for closed eyes. The rarity of brightness and clarity was too good to return to the blindness of the halls and the fogged space of the world outside. It was safe to keep them open, just for now.

“Don’t tell me it was one of your dumb football friends who put you up to something.” You said as if you already knew this to be true. 

“They’re not dumb.” “What? Are you trying to defend them? Defend yourself?” Hoseok said and it was not caked in indifference or sarcasm. It was angry and driven by some demented sort of care for Jimin to take accountability for his actions; it was as if he knew Jimin was better than that but he wouldn’t admit this even with a gun to his head.

“No! It’s not that. It’s just…” Jimin had reached his breaking point. There was nothing left to hide. Not when the library was so damn bright that it singed his vision enough to well a few tears to collect at the base of his eyes. “They’re fucking cruel. I don’t think dumb people can be as cruel as them.” 

Jimin’s eyes were spaced out to the floor as if he had seen a ghost, or many ghosts in the form of the untracked amount of students that were swept into a relentless attack by those Jimin dared to call his friends. Those who he stood by, even if it cut through every moral instinct in his body. The most shameful ghosts were the ones sitting before him, listening attentively.

And the most haunting ghost of all was none other than himself. 

“Jimin, what did you do?” Namjoon, walking on eggshells or rather shards of glass, asked this of him apprehensively knowing how overwhelmingly displeased you all would be with his answer. 

“I didn’t have a choice! I-” The tears once held at bay on the bed of Jimin’s eyes had now been pushed over and down his cheeks from the guilt crowding the space where they once rested. “You know my friend Connor right? Well, I don’t know if I can call him a friend. Not anymore at least.”

The four silent nods didn’t give him enough time to construct the strong foundation of courage he needed to build upon this. However, Jimin had exhausted the last of his courage. All there was left for him, for all of you, was to be vulnerable. To be welcoming of his pain seemed to be the only source of strength to say what was needed to be said. What, for once, he felt like he could openly admit to. 

The library was bright. He began to feel seen because of it and the noiseless juncture gave him a chance to be heard.

“I, um, I made the mistake of leaving my phone out. God, I was so fucking stupid. I can’t believe I did that.” He took one deep breath to energize himself, “I, uh, I got a text from Kim Taehyung and,” 

Jimin had been instilling frequent pauses between what he was saying. Talking, especially to those whose opinions held a measurable importance to him, was the most difficult thing he had to do. Jimin spent over ten hours in the beating sun, extrapolated his muscles of their ability to move with the intensive workouts he had to do for training, ran over seven kilometers nearly every other day, and shoved an integral piece of his heart to a place of hateful and regretful shame for his whole life. But this, the uncomplicated act of talking had twisted into an unsolvable maze with Jimin placed right at the center.

“Connor looked. He- he fucking looked through my texts.”

The mention of Kim Taehyung, the only uncloseted person in your grade, had given you all the information needed to know why Connor looking through Jimin’s texts was not just an invasion of privacy but an infestation to the immunity Jimin built against how he loved; who he loved. The boundaries had been set and had been wrongly trespassed over, and to someone like Connor, that didn’t register as a violent act of homophobia. Jimin didn’t have to explain the contents of the texts for you all to know that it was far beyond platonic.

Suddenly, everything made sense to Hoseok. Being that he was the only one who knew what happened, but not as much to know the reasons behind it had him feeling almost as guilty as Jimin.

“You don’t have to explain yourself. I didn't know all that.” Hoseok had given Jimin an opt out, a shortcut to escape from the maze Jimin was still wandering through, which was his way of apologizing and clarifying he would never cross that boundary, the boundary that Connor ravaged with a hateful heart. 

Jimin turned it down. He turned down the shortcuts. This wasn’t a journey that would be accomplished by taking the easy way out. Sometimes, one must run right into the eye of the hurricane to be freed from the shackles of self-despair.

“No. I need to tell you guys. I don’t want you guys to think that...” Jimin pushed past the final wall, realizing the very mask meant to protect him was the thing that had been turning him into someone he couldn't recognize when he looked in the mirror. “I just… I want you guys to know.”

The low social status of the others in the room wasn’t why he felt like he could be honest. It wasn’t the fact that even if you all knew, it would have been diluted to an unverifiable and petty rumor because no one took what the delinquent, the loner, the nerd, and the freak said seriously. What motivated him, or more fittingly, what inspired him to be honest was your gift of listening, not just hearing to hear, but hearing to care and understand Jimin.

“I’m gay.” And he finally found the end of the maze. “I’ve never said it out loud before. It sounds weird coming out of my mouth.” What he expected was awkward silence, a few uncomfortable or disapproving grimaces, or a complete rejection of what he revealed himself to be. These expectations weren’t met, by the grace of God or more likely the grace of those who listened with care and understanding. And Jimin cried harder.

“I don’t think it sounds weird. I’m so happy you shared that with us.” You said in place of the expected rejection, and you smiled in the place of the expected turned back. “I’m proud of you for being so brave.”

“You are?” 

“We all are.” Namjoon added to the support.

No longer did Jimin feel the need to rely on the fractured confinement of the closet, but on the open, warm support of the four others and the brightness of the library. When he gathered the reactions for the four of you, the soft expressions directed towards him, he knew he was in a safe place. Even Hoseok, without outwardly smiling, gave him more acceptance than any of Jimin’s football teammates would have given him.

“No disrespect but what does that have to do with why you got detention?” Seokjin’s bluntness corralled Jimin back on topic, even if it wasn’t the most empathetic way of going about it.

“Oh yeah. Well, Connor started saying all this shit about telling everyone if I didn’t um…” It felt like the words coming from his throat weren’t hot air from his lungs, but jagged rocks scraping the sides of his windpipe, “If I didn’t beat Taehyung up then he’d tell everyone and leak our conversations.” 

“Would people finding out about you two be so bad?” Seokjin asked naively.

“You don’t understand. There weren’t just messages.” He had been fidgeting with the end of his shirt, engulfed by the regret of how he handled things. Though, his choices had made him a parcel between deciding on the lesser of two evils and this was never a fair advantage. “There- there were pictures too. He threatened to leak them and I… well, I thought I was protecting Taehyung from him, but I was being selfish. Weak. I was protecting myself.”

“Jimin, that’s not fair. Connor put you in such a fucked up position! God, how fucking dare he?” Your face was red with anger. Hoseok had been tracing the distress lines on your forehead and between your brows with reverence because it was too heartbreaking to look at the defeated expression tolling Jimin’s. “You know Connor also sent around my friend’s nudes after he was begging for them. He’s fucking vile.”

“There has to be something we can do to get him in trouble.” Namjoon had already been willing to risk having to voluntarily interact with Dickson to rat Connor out. However, Jimin objected strongly.

“No! Then word would get out. You don’t know half the shit my teammates say about gay people. There’s no way they would let me stay on the team. And my parents don’t have a clue. I have no idea how they’d react.” Jimin brought his forearm to wipe away the tears still spilling from his eyes. “I’m scared. I already lost the one person who I really cared about in this damn school because of that asshole. I can’t lose anything else.” 

“Why would you want to be on a team with people who hate gay people? Or be on the same team as the guy who literally blackmailed you into beating up your boyfriend.” Jimin didn’t take too kindly to Seokjin’s unthoughtful assertion. 

“You wouldn’t understand. I- I’ve built my life around football! I wouldn’t have any friends and my whole future is riding on my football career. God knows my grades aren’t enough to get me accepted into college let alone get a scholarship. You don’t understand the social pressure of not being a part of something.” Now, it was Jimin who made thoughtless assertions against Seokjin. “Someone like you just wouldn't understand.”

“Someone like me?”

“Do I have to say it?”

Internally, you pleaded with him not to say it. Namjoon already knew the hurtful assumptions Jimin had placed upon the four of you this whole time.

“Well, you're the one who brought it up.” Seokjin retorted.

“Say it, Jimin. Admit you think of yourself as better than us just because you're popular and on the football team.” Hoseok spat with a determined bite to his words.

“Fine! Someone like Seokjin is an outcast. It’s true, okay? It’s not my fault he doesn’t get the pressure that I’m under.” The admittance was torrid and vain but nonetheless true to Jimin’s prerogative. 

“Are you kidding me? You don't think all of us don't understand the social pressures of feeling like we don't belong?” He was never one to argue or get upset about things. He often felt like he had no place in ever standing up from the many instances when he’d been pushed to the ground for his entire life. 

Seokjin, and Namjoon too for that matter, have been casted as a sort of boot licker trapped in between the cogs of the social hierarchies in high school. Being at the very bottom, on the receiving end of the brute force from those who are lucky enough to be a part of something, hadn't been easy. They didn’t get the leverage to misstep or speak out, and their consequences had always been enforced with an expensive debt of hiding what was really on their minds. 

“You don’t think I see and hear the way people talk about me? I’m a freak, a low life, a joke. No one wants to be friends with someone like me. And yeah, I guess I am the joke of the school! The inside joke that everyone is a part of except for me. I've never had the fear of not belonging because that was a given ever since I started high school. At least you have something to lose. I never had that and I have to pretend like I’m okay with it all! I have to pretend that everything people say about me or make fun of me doesn't affect me. In fact, I feel like I have to constantly make a fool of myself because that’s the only way anyone pays attention to me! That's pathetic! If I didn’t, if I just shut up or if I-” His voice cut off momentarily from the lump impeding on his throat, “If I were to just disappear… or… if I were to die no one would care. And I have to pretend to be okay with that. But I’m not- I- I just hate it.” 

You didn’t have to look at his eyes to know he had also been crying. And he was right, everything he said. The way most people disregard him and when they do acknowledge Seokjin, it’s only to place hate or insults to titillate their sick amusement. It brought you to tears in the most gut-wrenching way, because part of you attuned to his loneliness. His feelings of unimportance, that if you were to fall off the face of the Earth one day, your tombstone would be just as undeclared and forgotten as your once beating hearts.

“Do you know how many death threats I’ve gotten in my locker? Yeah, they’re probably empty threats just to piss me off or scare me but they still affect me. I- I start to believe maybe I should be dead. I just… I just want to be seen.”

In some way, Jimin felt decided for just like Seokjin did. Decided by external forces that he should be manly, straight, and nothing beyond what had been expected of him. Though the oppression of heteronormativity chained around his neck was vastly different that the shackles that kept Seokjin at an arm's length away from ever making a true friend, there was a communion within the unwelcomed and pervasive loneliness.

And that kind of loneliness drives someone to a deep and unyielding kind of depression. The damaging isolation from having no one to tell you they love you when you feel unloved ricocheted against your insides, and it begins to feel like a hunger but a million times worse.

You couldn’t feed it on your own. You just have to wait for someone else to want to feed it, to want to love and accept you. But no one could wield such compassion when they were too occupied with fitting in, until now.

“I don’t think you’re a freak or a joke. I’d never make fun of you, and I would notice. If you left, Jin, I would notice.” Namjoon said to give Seokjin shelter and company in feeling out of place. He felt it too and it was heavy, crushingly heavy. 

“I think we’re all just pretending to be okay. Pretending that living and existing doesn't hurt and that every day doesn't leave a scar on our body in some way. Being alive when you are pretending is lonely because it isn’t you who’s living and existing. It’s the shell of you, and the real you has to watch from a distance. That distance is so lonely. And when you try to crawl back into that shell, and maybe become whole again, you just can’t. You’re stuck because you've been hurt too many times to feel safe in your own body. I’ve felt it, now I know Jimin and Seokjin feel it. Even ___ and Hoseok, I know you guys feel it too. I wish we could stop. I wish we didn’t have to pretend. If we could stay in this library, together, we wouldn’t have to. But the end of the day will come and we’ll all have to go back to pretending, won't we?”

A speechless agreement filled the air.

“I don’t. I don’t want to feel lonely anymore.” Seokjin said.

“Me neither, I don't want to go back to pretending. I want to be able to love who I want to love.” Jimin looked to Seokjin, scared and unsure of whether or not they could face the world again. Oddly enough, comfort surfed over fear and uncertainty because they were not alone anymore. To be in a state of apprehension with those who take time to understand one another lightened the load tenfold. If one can be lonely with other lonely people, then maybe they weren’t alone after all. 

In this library, bright and giving, they certainly weren't alone.

There was nothing to say or refute. Hoseok had in fact been pretending, his skin just as fake as the leather jacket covering him. Though now, unlike when he saw his portrait, he felt the absence of his skin to be freeing. He felt uncomfortable in his skin; he wanted it off completely. Being strong, pretending to be unhurt led him to come crashing down as hard as he did when he faced you again. You and all the mistakes he’d made and Dickson’s hostile attack in the halls. Perhaps weakness is a form of healing.

Letting the guard down just enough to let the kindness of another’s heart in. 

“Do you guys… to me, you guys are my friends.” Spoken with an intentional rephrase and delivered without an expectation that the four of you returned this projection of friendship, Seokjin felt less alone than he did in the dark of the hallways that, although physically narrow, were wide enough to have him walking through alone.

“You’re my friend.” You said this quickly, to not give any chance for silence to settle doubt. You were his friend, truly, more so than the friends you made to fill the Hoseok sized void in your life. “I don’t have a lot of friends either.”

“Me neither.” Namjoon said.

“I mean, I have a lot of friends, but I think it’s all bullshit. I think you guys are the only ones close to anything real.” Jimin said through a smile.

And though Hoseok had come to realize what it felt like to be seen, to have his bones exposed to the eyes of the understanding, there was still that adjustment period. Letting go of the habitual usage of rudeness and sarcasm as a defense mechanism against the rawness of being human with other people was not an easily dropped reflex.

“Wow, well this love fest was certainly something.” 

How could he do that? How could he reduce the trauma and bravery piled between the five of you to another crass, insensitive comment? 

“Oh, god. Can’t you just quit it already? Can’t you take anything seriously?” You were well beyond the brink of holding your tongue. Beyond the point of patience that was placating your owed explanation for Hoseok’s drastic change and unannounced desertion.

“No, that part of my brain died a long time ago. Sorry to burst your bubble, princess.”

“Oh, is that what your excuse is?”

The other boys sensed there was some unsaid history between the two of you which placed them as silent audience members, serving a watchful mediation to this long-awaited performance. 

“What’s your deal? Calm down, it was just a joke.” His insensitivity came from a place that grew used to pushing you away and stonewalling the idea of emotionality, yet another defense mechanism brandished to become second nature to him. And with the attentive eyes of the other three, there was no chance of loosening the skin and veered away from showing his bones. Hoseok knew exactly what ‘your deal’ was but he didn’t have the slightest idea of how much his feigned indifference packed more dirt in your wounds.

Or at least, you hoped he didn’t. It would have made it far worse to know he was aware of the way he hurt you. 

“What’s my deal? My deal is that you don’t care about anyone! You never cared about me and you made me believe that I could trust you. You’re just an asshole, when you get down to it. You have no heart.” You spat, feeling the heat rising just as quickly as your body which collected the strength to take a stand. 

He too stood up, facing you and it overspent the little energy he had to look into your eyes as you said these harsh things, unhidden in the library’s brightness. Of course, you didn't believe anything you just said. You knew he cared, or at least he did once, and that he had a heart, no matter how emptied of love it felt in his chest. His heart was there, beating slowly as if waiting to stop completely.

You were speaking through the frustrations of trying to reach out to someone who held their guard up stronger and mightier than a brick wall and seemed to want nothing to do with you. 

He didn’t know this. Hoseok was up to his neck in regret and guilt. He was tired, and his heart was weary from doing its job of maintaining his breath. A breath he didn’t feel worthy of harboring anymore. He had been tired for a while now and just wanted to be vulnerable, like the rest of you. However, no matter how many times he thought it over or talked himself into it, the skin just seemed to regenerate faster than it shed. 

He wanted to take you in his arms, never let go, tell you where it hurt and hoped you would love him there in the same way you would when you were young, and when his heart didn’t fully understand the hefty price of being the unwanted orphan who dragged misery into the lives of everyone associated with him. He wanted the sandbox, the Andes mountains, Marley and Me, the first grade, the aromas of linen and lemon, and you all over again. But he knew, he never stopped wanting that.

“You don’t know that, ___! You don’t know anything so how dare you make claims like that about me when you don't know half the shit I’ve been through!” He was screaming, though not so much in the literal sense. The high pitch of his voice was him trying to talk over the secrets that he kept from you. It seemed like the only thing that would drown out the loneliness itching to be liberated was his hurtful words. It sent you into a rage

“Then tell me! Let me help you or be there for you! Stop running away. For once in your life stop running!”

“Why would I tell you of all people?” The true meaning behind this was unclear through his spiteful tone and sandpaper skin. The one person he wanted the best for, he wanted to protect, wasn’t the person to dump all his problems on. Not you. Not your kind eyes and soft, warm hands and skin. He couldn't drag you under the bus with him and make you solve the unsolvable. To put you through that, it would have been better to drive a dull sword right through your chest. 

You wanted to slap him or shake him. Shake the secrets out of him and place him right under the bright lights of the library. You wanted to reach into his chest and pump the slowly dying organ with your own hand so he could keep on breathing.

“I hate you, Hobi. I fucking hate you.” You said this and you said his name. The name owned by your tongue that carried too much sentiment to mean anything of hatred. Both his name and your hatred flew through the thick fog surrounding Hoseok, but only one of those two met with his skin and melted it off his bones completely. 

“I hate me too.”

He couldn’t let you, or anyone see him cry. So he ran, just like always. Hoseok walked out of the library, right into the dark halls, but it was him running again. Running far away from you just like he did over three years ago.

It seemed like he didn’t reveal nearly as much as Seokjin and Jimin had. Even Namjoon, with the few words he’d offered on his place in the grips of loneliness seemed to be loads more than Hoseok gave.

But to you, it was enough. To you, his silence and grim avoidance told you everything you needed to know about Hoseok.

Dry eyes, dignity, skin, the defensive masks once mounded over your faces were nowhere in sight of this library. Becoming emotionally undone and disarmed was nothing more than becoming honest with yourselves and others. It came just in time before those mighty walls broke down to leave you all sitting ducks to the much harsher grasps of your peers’ judgements

It felt like symbiosis. The mutual giving and receiving between those who had been pretending, but were worn out by the last few hours of detention. To give the skin that covers and protects and hides the things unwanted by most of society. The things often put to shame or denial or negligence and root loneliness deeper into one’s body. And to receive a mindful ear that cares and listens, empathetically, to the words locked away, as well as a place where these insecurities and inner torments can be put to rest through the form of words.

No longer were these secrets kept. There was no one to shun or misunderstand or commit the crime of breaking the bones of those who stand out to fit in the mold of what was considered acceptable or worthwhile. 

Four out of five coats unworn, laying in the center of your circle, safe and understood.

The question remained, if and when the fifth one would be shed?

Namjoon broke the tense silence.

“Are you going to go after him?” 

If it was your freshman year, you would have been racing out of those doors before Namjoon had to ask. The you of the past would have climbed over the Andes mountains, the you of elementary school would have swam across the vast oceans to drag him back into your life. The you of the past, the one that had only a sandbox and Hoseok, would have gotten to the door before he had and blocked any exit from this room. 

But you were not in the past, and Hoseok was already gone. Namjoon had to ask whether or not you would go after him and that meant there was a chance you had given up, for good this time. There was a chance you wouldn’t go after him.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”

 Five years ago

For the better part of a year, Hoseok tumbled through life without any cadence for feelings and emotions. He was an adolescent boy, after all, and each week brought a new challenge to his plate that left little room to focus on the chaos of his life and guidance of his heartbeat. This week, he set his sights on getting you to race him on your scooters down the steepest hill in your neighborhood. 

Dusk was orange and warm, sending its hues along the streets and faces who were under it like an important message one must read with the utmost care. Hoseok liked this part of the day specifically because the end of the hour would take his tired body into your home to eat dinner with you and your mom. He saved that for later and for now, he and you were occupied with scraped knees and tired knuckles from gripping the handles of your scooters, and a hill rolling down so far it seemed like it would take a lifetime to reach the bottom of it.

“Come on! We’ve been practicing for hours! You can do it!” His scooter was edging to slip off the slope and down the hill in eagerness. Yours stationed a foot behind with your helmet strapped snug around your chin and a grip around the handles so tight, you left the divots of each finger on the rubber padding. 

“What if we die?” You looked at the back of his head soon turned to become his face as he peeled away his determined glare to a soft reassurance. Wheeling back to align the front of his scooter with the front of yours, he was left to subside to the beatings of his heart, fed by the sun placing itself on the crest of your helmet and the luminescent rays drizzling like a serene waterfall down your face and body. 

He never thought about beauty much, being that he was no older than thirteen years, but seeing you under the aging sun had put it at the forefront of his focus.

“If we die… then you’re mom’s gonna be mad. So, I won’t let that happen.” 

“Hobi!” You swung your arm that braised the bone of his shoulder not without a laugh at his rather playful response to your worries. 

“Trust me. We don’t die. And whoever gets to the bottom first wins.” Your laugh served as a catalyst that quickened the pace of his heart. Whatever it was trying to tell him in this moment, it was surely of sizable importance being that it sent waves of warmth through his cheeks and down to his legs. The challenge now hadn’t been the epic scootering down the hill but putting his heart aside long enough to last the rest of dusk.

“Wins what?” You asked with intrigue.

“I don’t know. A piggyback ride all the way home.” Tired legs and a heavy head convinced you this prize had been worth the risk of falling, akin to dying in your perspective. Your head turned to the hill, looming over the intersecting street at the base of it, notifying Hoseok that backing down was no longer an option.

“Alright. Ready, set, go!”

Opening your mouth didn’t come with the expected release of terrified screams but laughs of thrilled enjoyment. The wind was cut through by your body, now rocketing down the gradient that felt much less steep than it looked, and you commended Hoseok for convincing you to tackle this seemingly trifling challenge. 

“This is so fun!” Your yelp was lost in the rapid descent, but Hoseok, a few feet ahead of you, had been in range of your acclaim. 

It was then when the young adolescence in his brain was overtaken by the guidance of his heart. His own tired body became alive and light. When you said this, the joy in your voice made the decision for him to discreetly apply pressure to the metal brake of his scooter with his heel, to realize he couldn’t make you carry him home. 

Not because it was tiring for you, but he wanted to see the look on your face when you won. He needed that smile and the warm blanket of your eyes that would heal his aching muscles and tired body. And it was your open-mouthed smile and celebratory hops, along with the showering glints of sunlight and the end of dusk that turned his loss into an incredible win. His covert efforts to draw this joy from you came from a place none other than pure love.

“I won! Hobi, I won!” Without a second to spare, you ran and mounted his back with legs wrapped tight around his torso and your arms snug, but not quite choking, his neck. 

“Alright, fair is fair.” Though, it wasn't fair. Not in the slightest, and Hoseok made sure of that. 

The feeling of your soft, jaded breath against his neck was energizing, and every so often you would give his body a tight squeeze when he was struggling to trudge back up the hill, as if to thank him. And you were because you knew he let you win. You squeezed him in your arms, keeping firm to the memory of him and this triumph gifted to you. Though, it was not as great of a gift as Hoseok was to your life. 

“Thank you, Hobi.” Your soft whisper was followed by an even softer kiss on his cheek, damp from the sun and the hill and the piggy-back ride. Soft enough to communicate to him the gratitude in your heart, which translated and directly manifested into his lungs now fanned of all the burning once inflaming them; his face sporting quite a bashful smile too.

He was not tired, not when he was holding you because it felt more like you were holding him. Like you were always going to hold onto him.

The neatly lined houses had little to no variation. Individuality in this small, suburban town was like finding that needle in the haystack. To him, your house was that shiny little pin. Your house was a home, and he saw that through the partly uncurtained windows that gave him a view of the scene inside. Most of the time, you were already seated by the sill, waiting for him to arrive. 

You and Hoseok had arrived at the base of your driveway, staring up at the small incline that looked like it was taller than the Andes Mountains themselves to Hoseok.

“You know how I said we won't die?” You turned to his lightly blushed cheeks upon hearing this to see he was smiling. “Yeah, well, I think I’m going to die.” 

His pearly whites cemented with metal braces and strands of his unkept hair stuck in the sweat of his forehead were sightly. You began to laugh, looking at the goliath hill separating you and him from a home-cooked meal courtesy of your mom, then back at the odd, awkward boy who had yet to discover the wonders of deodorant and properly fitted clothing.

Hoseok wasn’t all too desirable in terms of the traditional realm of attractiveness. His arms were lanky, unable to place themselves naturally at his sides without looking uneven, and his posture did him no favors either. And you took in all five foot five of him, before he hit a spur of growth, and thought he was the loveliest little thirteen-year-old in your grade and in the whole world. 

“Come on, you know my mom won’t allow that. I got you, Hobi.” You weaved your hand through his, pulling with all the force your muscles could exert to haul him up the driveway. You made it to the top and your hand didn’t let go of him. Your mind was trying to deny the twists and turns of your stomach and the fast pumping of your heart any credence. 

When all else fails, you must listen to your heart.

Both you and Hoseok discovered in your very young, inexperienced lives that hills and driveways and scooters and all the other trivial barriers were no match to hearts. 

It was in first grade that he knew he was going to be your best friend. It was by eighth grade he knew he loved you. So much he’d carry you with bruised knees and broken arms to the ends of the earth. 

 2:00 - 4:00

Hoseok’s memories of you became sort of a mosaic. The little pieces of you were, singularly, a bit insignificant in the time they were being experienced. Often overlooked, and taken for granted, he couldn’t realize the beauty they captured until he stepped back. With distance, he saw the full picture, the ethereal mosaic had brought him a far and lonely appreciation for the past. 

All throughout the day, he didn’t want to look into your eyes like he did the day you convened with him in the parking lot where he was smoking. His fluency of your eyes had unraveled with time, leaving him feeling illiterate in the language of you and completely lost. When he felt lost, he wanted his heart to guide him again, but it would instruct him to return to you and replenish the deserted friendship. However, from what everyone told him, even Dickson, he wasn’t worth the effort. 

You had been staring at the door opened and closed by Hoseok, waiting to be opened and closed by you. As if there were a part of you deciding on letting him go, you tapped your hand against the table synchronically with the seconds ticking by on the clock. The door had eroded the rest of the library away, along with the three sets of eyes staring earnestly at you.

“So, are you gonna go or what? We have like two hours left and God knows whether he actually stayed on campus or not.” Seokjin sliced the wordless atmosphere with heavy hopes you would make any indication of your next move. 

“Seokjin, shut up! ___, don’t feel pressured to do anything.” This overlaid Jimin’s pounding urge to hoist you up himself and throw you into the wiles of the halls.

“What? ___ clearly wants to find him.” 

“Well, he clearly doesn’t want to be found. He’s such a child, honestly, I shouldn’t waste my time.” You knew you only said this to try and talk yourself out of the decision which had been established by your beating heart the minute Hoseok walked out. The obvious desire to follow him had been expressed through the discomfort you felt for tearing your eyes away from the door; you were guilty, above all else. 

Each tap of your hand could have been a prelude to your inevitable pursuit of the man who, in fact, did want to be found. It was effortful but insincere to attempt leveling the scale between the two options of chasing or letting go; the opportunity of Hoseok was a weightier one than the life without him, executed through repetitive, passionless motions. You were bored, repulsed by the way you had lived out each moment of your life just to wait for the next and the next until your life was over. 

“Come on, you know that’s not true.” Namjoon added, “We’ll cover for you if Dickson comes back. I really think you should go.”

“Yes, please. Go.” Seokjin placed his desires proudly once again. 

“In all honesty, I think you should go t-”

“Enough! I’ve already gone down that path. All I ever got from it was unheard voicemails and ignored texts.” You were still looking at the door, and still trying to talk yourself out of it - and still feeling guilty.

“Love is hard, I get it. But-” You didn’t let Namjoon finish his well-thought out life lesson that would have coerced you into going after him.

“What? I don’t love him.”

“Ooo, ___ and Hoseok? Fire and ice. Rain and sun. Winter and Sum-”

“Seokjin, don’t you have an essay to write?” You cut his words down as well, finding none of their entertainment in your inner psyche appropriate. They were placing themselves in your mind, but to them it wasn’t so much of a locked door than a door wide open with its secrets spilling out faster than the tick of the clock and the tap of your hand.

“Well, he clearly loves you. I don’t know him that well, but I can assure you he doesn’t get like that around just anyone.” Whatever ‘like that’ meant, you were annoyed that you knew exactly what Namjoon was implying. It didn’t stop you from perpetual, stubborn denial.

“He doesn’t love me.” 

“Oh… Are you being- Is ___…? Are- You’re stupid.” Seokjin’s words crumbled to near incoherency due to his complete astonishment for your lack of judgment. Perhaps if your belief that he didn’t love you was a genuine judgment, then his assessment would have been correct; you were being stupid.

“Well, fuck you too!”

“What he means to say,” Namjoon’s pause was to shoot Seokjin a disapproving glance, “is that it's really obvious you guys are into each other. I don’t know your history but there are definitely some unresolved feelings.”

“If you’re not gonna talk things out with him, at least tell him to come back so Dickson doesn’t get him into even more trouble.” Jimin’s addition only vegetated your inclination to find him again. 

It made sense. It was rational, reasonable, and therefore possible. You couldn’t let him get in trouble. You were just doing him that small favor. In your head, it caked over the real reason; to know he still cared or to see his eyes looking back at you, and figuring out what was the wedge that drove you and him apart. Maybe this would somehow re-cultivate the half of your heart still hanging by the thread that tethered you to him.

“I-” You stood up, walking towards the door that was about to be opened and closed, and looked back at the three boys now favoring much more satisfied and slightly smug looks on their faces, “Oh, shut up.”

Jimin held his hand, palm facing the ceiling, in front of Namjoon who greeted it with a victorious high five. Seokjin held his pencil up to signify you that he could now peacefully start his essay, to which you smiled warmly. You couldn’t thank them out loud, because you had nothing to ‘thank’, or so you thought.

You were just making sure Hoseok wouldn't get in trouble. That’s all it was. Then, you opened and closed the door and began the chase again. This time, however, the fog that once hurdled your vision was easy to sift through with the loud beats of your heart navigating you through the moors of the hallways.

You turned left, then stopped to ponder on turning back and going right instead. Hoseok didn’t make this easy and you wouldn’t have expected anything less from him. Eventually, you just let your body wander the many halls for about ten minutes before you decided on furthering your search to the roof of the main building. 

There was a new revenue of motivation that moved your legs forward. Before, they were struggling to keep up with everything life hurled at you. Now, it was far more determined and self-assured because you were moving towards a goal. You wanted to find him, and this time everything you had faced, all the loneliness, self-blame, forced smiles and friendships couldn’t keep up with you.

The stairs proved to be quite a test for your determination, and you passed with flying colors, heavy breaths, and inflamed hamstrings. You were lucky to push through the door and find him standing, staring off into the expanse of the fog. Towering over the haze had you realizing the entire school had been submerged, not just Hoseok and you and the library. Everything was under that sheet of blindness except for, as of now, you and Hoseok. The roof served as a platform to look upon the fog and stand safe from the numbing effect it debilitated on those in it. You knew he heard you. The perk of his ear as you ungracefully fell through the door to the open air told you he knew you were there. 

You stood a few feet behind him, and he offered only the view of his back facing you. There was a line to be crossed if you were to go towards him, place your hand on his shoulder, and ask him to face you. Whatever line that was, you knew it was Hoseok who set it and you wanted to know why.

“It’s cold out here.”

He said nothing, but did provide the tenuous gesture to turn his head, giving you a side profile of his face. In turn, wiring through your eyes was the stains of what could only be deduced as tears along his cheek. 

“Aren’t you cold? Let’s go back inside, Hobi.” 

Hoseok couldn’t look, doing so would only invite you to join him. It would plot his every desire along the pavement and undress how much he wanted to have and hold you. But you were no one’s, least of all his, to hold.

“Dickson could be back any minute.” Your footsteps towards him raised the clarity of your voice. You were doing a fine job at hiding the real reason you came up to get him, both from yourself and Hoseok. It pinched his weathered heart that you had just come up to warn him about Dickson. 

“Okay.” He answered curtly to bitter the atmosphere and showed no sign of leaving. 

“Well, I’m not leaving here until you get your ass down there, so, you’ll be getting me in trouble too.” You crossed the line which felt more like walking over a burned bridge, and placed yourself next to him with perfect access to see his face.

He was even more beautiful standing above the fog. 

You leaned your elbows next to his on the ledge of the building. His eyes, glistening from the tint of resisted tears, plowed over the treetops peeking through the top layers of mist. It was difficult to tell whether or not he was listening when his eyes were busy whispering secrets to everything in the far distance and the close proximities. To everything but you.

“Why?” Hoseok’s eyes were nudging towards the direction of you. He wanted so badly to look at you, to brave a glance but he was so cold out here that he had frozen over into ice. 

In this ice, he couldn’t move or even breathe for that matter. Looking at you and not being able to move towards you was an unnecessary torture of which he'd rather not look at you at all. So, he remained in his calcified state, eyes edging dangerously close to you.

“Why what?” Your eyes moved away from him, to the fog instead, trying to see the ground below. “You’re staying up here, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m staying with you.” Hoseok was shocked that you said this with such decisiveness; it was difficult to decipher whether this proposition came as easily as it was said. The lonely glades of mist were entrenched by a new plurality, like a double-edged sword ready to cut through the veil of secrets. The more you would push through Hoseok’s skin, the more it penetrated your own.

“God! Why can’t you just leave?” He removed himself from the ledge, pacing over to the space in the middle of the roof. Thinking this would suffice the desperation for distance was a gross miscalculation. You too pulled away from the ledge that overlooked the foggy plains and placed your steps consecutively with his. 

“Don’t you see I clearly don’t want you here?” That lie tasted much more sour when spoken out loud.

“I don't! Okay? I really don’t. I don't understand… I- Why did you leave? What the fuck did I do?” Your voice had matched in elevation with your frustration; you were not referring to him leaving the library, but to his cold departure from your life over three years ago. And with that, was the unending pursuit of him. 

“___, you just have better places to be. So go! Stop staying with me. Jesus fucking Christ! Look at me!” His hands angrily emphasized his sharp features that would surely draw blood if you came too close. “You shouldn't be hanging around with someone like me.”

“Is that what this has been all about?” You stood paralyzed; your body was stunned from this all too underwhelming reason. You were hoping that this wasn’t it, there was surely a much more redeeming explanation for how he ripped your heart right out of your chest. The thought that this was the reason for the cut tie had cornered you in a fiery rage. It made you furious. “Are you fucking kidding me, Hobi? That’s what this is about?”

What better place to be than right here, with you? You knew he would not be generous in giving any further explanation, so this question remained in your head.

“Yeah, actually, it is.” A shiver riddled its way under his jacket. He turned towards you, finding that revealing the truth which cemented him into a miserable, solitary life was not as climactic as he expected. Nor did he expect it to be revealed in the first place.

But it was, unceremoniously, rolled onto the roof. He had nothing to hide anymore so he looked at you. Your eyes, that he could finally see since you were above the fog, were close to tears. Years and years of denial and repression compounding against your heavy heart now alleviated, but it was not the least bit rewarding. You thought he was absolutely delusional to believe the gesture that his abandonment was rooted in the effort to protect you, when all it did was hurt you.

“No I-” You swiped your hand against your cheek, though it was useless as tears soon replaced themselves on your face, “That’s so stupid. That’s- You think I care? I don’t give a fuck about what you look like or what you do, Hobi. Don’t you understand I-”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m not good.” His voice wavered through his throat, releasing more as a cry for help than an assertion of truth. 

“How could you say that?” You did him the favor of taking the strides towards him. The initiative fell to you and your body moved through instinct to close that distance Hoseok kept trying to re-establish. His body was weak up close; when there was no space or fog and the jacket draped over his body could no longer keep his skin collected along his bones, he was weak and it was far more relieving to see him vulnerable. 

“You were the best thing to ever happen to me. You were the only little first grader that wanted to be my friend and not just that. You showed me that someone could actually want to be my friend. You gave me so many years of happiness that would have been dreadful without you. I would have hated life without you. And I do! I hate life without you, Hobi. I’m so lonely.” You were unsure how you came to finally reveal every message your heart pumped through your veins and up to your brain for all these years, but you were glad it happened.

It wasn’t Hoseok’s lack of effort that kept all the good things he’s done under the rug of unimportance. It was the mounds of contempt the world held for kids like him. The stigma of abandonment and undesirability that was clamping down on any part of him brave enough to reach out, making it difficult for any feelings to be shown without irreparable harm or discouragement.

“You don't mean that.”

“I don't mean that. That’s it? That’s all you can say?”

It was, for the moment, all he could say. The feelings of unworthiness facilitated utter shame of himself like congruent figures now inseparable from each other and had molded a cage of confinement around Hoseok. His body was trapped under the scrutiny of everyone who expected him to fail, and one day he was afraid your eyes would join. That one day, you would look upon him with nothing of warmth, love, or admiration. Nothing of the eyes populated with blankets and storms and bountiful roses. 

“You’re so fucking persistent!”

“Why are you pushing me away?”

“Because!”

“Tell me why! You know I deserve it.” The conversation metered out with a lot less organization and structure, which was the result of many untouched feelings released between the two of you. The blizzarding words were combative and destructive as well as reparative and conjoining, but most of all it was grievously uncivilized.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Three years. Three fucking years, Hoseok. I’ve wasted three years of my life blaming myself for losing you. Blaming myself for being lonely. God! I'm so mad at you! I'm so mad at myself for still loving you!”

And there it was. The last stroke of courage slipping from your mouth into the words spoken through an unfiltered and unrestrained heart. It was beating fast right now as if it had been unmoving in your chest for the past three years. Finally beating again, you felt all the blood return to your limbs in waves of pricks along the expanse of your skin.

Hoseok was not ready to be cast into the shallow, yet inescapable oasis of your testament. The remoteness of the past three years had him crawling through an emotionless desert, purged of any source of water or food or nourishments to keep his thick-skinned body functioning. The moment he was presented with a bit of the revitalizing water, Hoseok, like many starving people, dove into it too much, too fast.

He felt the atrophied muscles in his legs gain traction to glide towards you. The force was a savage agent of his tightly packed emotions which erupted the moment you said you loved him. He loved you, he knew that now, and his body wouldn’t allow him a second longer to sit desolate and starved. 

Without stopping him, his lips planted roughly and passionately against yours. You were wrapping your arms around his neck before the logical sense of what was happening had been granted permission into your conscience.

Your heart, his heart, were guiding and deepening the kiss, only tangling you tighter into your dedication for him as much as it was twisting the confusion and unanswered questions into a larger, messier knot.

His tongue slid against your lower lip, assuming an entrance to slip himself into your mouth. Your jaw hung slightly agape and gluttonous at the way his lips spilled such tender movements against yours. His hands were running along your back fervently, holding your body firmly in place, like he was trying to keep his own body from disassembling. 

Your lips were moving messily against his, though unchoreographed, they moved with a near perfect synchronicity. Refinement had seceded to your hunger to taste him. His mouth was sweet and hot, gentle and forceful, loving and angry, and the light pinch of his teeth that took your bottom lip between them had you moaning lightly into his mouth.

Then, everything once expounding into inexistence flooded back into reality. You divorced yourself from him as every empty promise claimed their demands to be fulfilled. The push against his chest was strong and it had to be in order to dissect that long awaited act of closeness. 

“What the hell?”

A long interval of silence tormented the rooftop since Hoseok could only explain himself through guilty looks directed at the concrete floor. The surface upholding him was solid, of course, so it was strange that he suddenly felt like he was sinking into the ground below. His hand ran through his hair, trying to bring himself to words. To say anything or do anything other than take you in his arms and hold onto you so that his body wouldn’t sink beneath the roof’s malleable surface.

“I’m sorry.” And that was not good enough for you. Not when he kissed you like he loved you and didn’t let you fill three years with desperate, lost hopes.

“Sorry for what? For kissing me or for giving up on our friendship? Or for breaking my heart? Or for making me feel like I did something wrong or wasn’t enough for you? Or for making me think that everything built between us was just my imagination?” The list could have lengthened into an unplanned admittance of all the pain he caused you, however, it wasn’t the time for you to speak. 

It was his turn.

“I guess I was just…” Afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore, “I guess I just didn't see it that way.”

“Stop lying.” You said and could only hope he wouldn’t revert to his evasive and insincere responses. Your hand came to rise and press against his chest. There was nothing to testify what came over you in this moment, but you wanted to feel his chest and know his heart was still beating. That, like yours, it still sent life throughout his body with its consecutive pumps. It was. 

Ever so harshly pounding away at his rib cage as if it were trying to break free.

“I never… I never had anyone care.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t wanna drag you into my shit.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Your hand moved from his chest to his chin, holding it in place so he couldn’t get the chance to look anywhere but into your eyes.

“Don’t be stupid, ___. My life isn't exactly picture perfect. From the beginning, my parents didn’t even want me.” He felt like he was being held emotionally captive by the years of trauma he had endured. Of the cycle of abuse and repression that crushed his will to feel anything at all. He was trying to break free. Despite all these facets of struggle, he spoke gently to you and it made your heart bleed empathy for his pain.

“Listen, there’s always that kid that everyone knows is trouble. Everyone knows that they’ll end up in a bad place. You know what I mean... That was me. I was that kid. I didn’t wanna drag you in that shit with me. You think I wanted to push you away? I had no other choice!” To you, he did have another choice. He could have stayed with you, but of course, he had no idea. 

Hoseok looked at you so sadly, with eyes begging to be loved and a voice softened by his tender, bruised heart. He felt so isolated. The imminence of his downfall became prevalent ever since he began to pay attention to the judgmental whispers of teachers and parents on open house nights when he showed up parentless, or when he was the last one at extended day care when everyone else’s parents came to pick them up from school. Paying attention to detail was the wrench thrown into his life, unhinging the naivety, and drilling in its place the knowledge that society had ostracized him for being an orphan.

Maybe it was because you loved him so much, and it was blinding. You didn’t see much of the world outside of the lens of Hoseok, but you didn’t feel the need to see such a place. Your figment of him was always in a good light; you couldn’t fathom shedding darkness or disappointment or repulsion anywhere near him. So, when he said this, you were completely oblivious of that dehumanizing label many teachers, parents, and fellow students grouped him under.

“I don’t understand.” 

“Of course you don’t.” He jerked his head away with a scoff. Though to no avail, your hand still mounted onto his chin.

“No I mean,” Your head turned down, attempting to process this information into coherency, “I don’t understand how anyone could see you like that.”

“See, this is exactly why I can’t be around you. I’d ruin you! You see the best in me and that's the worst thing you could do.”

‘Ruin you’? You still didn’t know what that meant.

“Were people really that bothered that you were an orphan?”

He said nothing. He simply looked at you as if you had pointed out an observation so universally accepted that it went unneeded to be discussed. Like it was a given to cast someone like him off, or to repeat his worthlessness until it was purged from a tongue bored of belittlement and moved onto the next victim of verbal assault. He was simply one of the dominoes falling into place. Falling on top of each forgotten and neglected child.

“You wanna know what Dickson said to me?” He paused, not to wait for your permission but to prepare himself to recount the hurtful things still pronging against his open wounds, “He told me I’m unwanted. He told me that I was going to end up some loser not even worth considering a part of society. Basically, I’m damaged goods, ___, and you shouldn’t be hanging around me. You actually have a chance to make something out of yourself. Don’t waste that chance on me. I can’t let you do that.”

“You know that's not true.” Your hand moved to his cheek since he slipped too easily away from your grip of his chin. You held him in place, you held him with you.

“Why shouldn’t I believe it? ___, think about it. I am pathetic. My own parents didn’t even want me. And my foster parents told me I was just a financial asset. That my only worth was their monthly foster parent check.” 

It was crushingly difficult to hear such punishing words coming from Hoseok. That he not only had to endure the unfeigned demoralization of those who saw his worth to be instrumental but that he had come to believe them. He came to resent himself for a choice that was not his to be made but still suffered every waking day for it.

“And I guess I thought you were going to leave me behind like everyone else seemed to do. Like everyone eventually just wants to get rid of me.” 

“What?” The core pillar of your relationship with Hoseok relied on his permanence in your life, so hearing him fear what didn’t once cross your mind took you back as well as your hand. “Hobi, how could you think that?”

He shrugged distantly.

“Don’t. Don't you dare.” Almost out of nowhere, your soft cries were emulsified by the dryness of the air and turned into a heavy sob. But, it was not out of nowhere. It was from somewhere deeply upset that you let him think so lowly of himself all these years. That maybe, you hadn’t fulfilled your job as his best friend. “First of all, don’t you dare say that about yourself and second of all Dickson is a piece of shit.”

“___, please don’t cry.” He was urgent in his request. 

Not over me. Don’t waste your wilting petals of tears over my corpse.

“You thought I would leave you? You weren’t protecting me from whatever inferiority complex you’ve carried around your whole life. You were protecting yourself.” 

“It’s not like that.” He stepped towards you, trying to ignore the wince worthy pain when you dodged him as if he were a bullet. “___, I love you.”

You were astounded by the signals so contrasting of each other that they led you to a plight of hysterics. You had to let out a flustered chuckle at the way he told you he would be heading left then turned right when you were already walking on the opposite path.

“I love you.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I love you.”

“You have a fucking horrible way of showing it.” Your arms folded over your chest and he realized it was his turn to keep your gaze locked with his. To chase you and to be put in the position that he forced you into three years ago. “I can’t understand you.”

“I was weak. If your hands were covered in blood would you walk up to something good and clean and force your stains on it? Would you leave disgusting prints of yourself on something so pure just because you were the only person in my life that didn’t see me as just an orphan?” Hoseok drowned himself in his words, but obtained and kept a soft hold on your cheeks with his hands.

 He was unable to register how distorted his perception of himself was in your eyes, feeling as though everything he said drowned his lungs with waters that almost choked him from speaking at all. 

There was a borderless delusion which fraught the comparison Hoseok just explained. It fell close to thoughtless and hollow, the way he reduced you to some virginal, helpless and unattainable prize on a pedestal; he subjected you to some paradigm of pristine stature that wouldn’t have the good nature to be anything less than empathetic for him. Though, you were not the image of purity or unmarred of pain and suffering; he was the reason for that.

“I'm not some little innocent kid. I know bad shit happens, but I’d never let that change the way I see you.” Filling the vacancy of your heart wasn't all too touching. You were distraught, distrustful, of everything in this world that led Hoseok to such a destructive mindset. To ruin the sweetest boy and subject him to undeserved misery. “You’re not just an orphan. You will not let that define you, you hear me? You are you. You are Jung Hoseok. To me, you will always be Hobi.”

The most frustrating part of this was tied between the fact that no real blame could be placed on one contender and the difficulty of understanding someone’s story when it went untold for far too long. Perhaps you had been pretending his pain didn’t exist because it was easier to see him as a stone-like, uncaring heathen. It was easier to cover your deep grief for losing him with hatred, but it did nothing to solve the division between you two; at the end of the day, you were still lonely and you still needed him. Wasting three years away to bitter resentment was nothing compared to knowing the truth of it all but having no power in redirecting yourself to compassion rather than anger.

“I should have been honest. I was scared.” He said. “I just thought I could never be enough for you.”

The fog was fully cleared. Your eyes panned from the edge of the roof to Hoseok’s needful gaze and down his addicting lips. All this time, he was just as alone and just as afraid, existing no less than a car ride away from you and still light years from ever being able to garnish his defeat with an admittance that he needed someone.

What more was there to say? Hoseok could have droned on about the way his foster parents stripped him of innocence and tossed him into the frigid hands of self-reliance or how he felt himself sinking into failure when the world of no mercy pulled him by the ankle and dragged his thrashing body through life without the guidance of someone who knew what was best for him. He could have explained how every unmet expectation put him against the world, in constant competition with not just everyone else but himself. Fighting against his need to be cradled and cared for with his resistance to tenderness enacted to thicken the skin on his body so the weaponry of an orphaned life, unearned glares of contempt and disapproval, and predisposed low regards wouldn’t dig as deeply. 

He could have relayed all his nights lost to wondering why he wasn’t worth keeping. Why a child without the slightest clue how to dress, or bathe, or speak, or trust was turned away by the very people who brought him into this world and had to figure out all these lessons on his own.

It was the depletion of his own self-worth that drove him to loosen his grips, and how that was not of apathy but instead caring too much to let himself get in the way of your opportunely life. Letting you go was a loss that came with a painful imminence.

He said none of this because you looked at his eyes and he looked at yours. Through the clean air, the ripe and unhazed space among reuniting stares, he saw what your eyes carried. It was an ocean. A place of immeasurable depth and complexity, never still and constantly giving the sand something to shelter and love. A wide body of life and water that replenished the seared collection of bones under the parched skin of Hoseok’s flesh.

In loving you, in gazing into you, he let the water diffuse his skin until he was skinless, fully bone.

“I never stopped.” You redacted the fact that you were referring to loving him, because the unsaid implications were communicated much more beautifully and accurately than what the entire collection of the English language could attribute.

“Me neither.” Hoseok paused, dropping his hands from your face to his sides knowing with full confidence you and your gaze would remain with him, “I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“I hate living. It's terrible. Everything about my life is terrible and I hate it.” His face turned wet quickly. Seeing this brought a natural desire to hold him again and to cast off his despair with your loving touch.

“Am I terrible?” You asked, hoping your words would serve as that gentle caress.

“No, how- Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m a part of your life. You might have gotten rid of me once, but I’m here to stay. Am I so terrible?”

“No. You’re wonderful.”

“Can you look at me and tell me I’m wrong when I say I need you in my life just as much as you need me?” The stagnant exchange of undeterred eyes was a comforting overture. A beginning that was not quite new, but a dormant adventure ready to be reborn into fruition.

“No.”

“So, I’m going to tell you. Hoseok, I need you in my life because I love you. Because no matter what people may say, you’ve brought nothing but love and happiness into my life.” The words, like a needle and thread woven into him, stitched the fabric of his heart back to fullness.  “Do you understand? I believe in you. I will be there for you. That’s what friends are for.”

“You’re my friend.” It constituted both a question and an irrefutable statement.

“Yours.”

“Mine.” He smiled softly, a gentle disparity against his tears.

“Life won’t be so terrible. I promise. If we have each other. If we have people who care, life is not so terrible. You have me, Hobi, you have someone who cares.”

There was no profound revelation with what you said. Nothing that was original or unordinary; it was quite common to be told you were cared about. One could refine your words to about three, maybe four, with the same tact. But that is exactly what made it original and unordinary to Hoseok. Countless people said the words ‘I care about you’, trillions of times and in hundreds of different ways and languages. It was said over and over again but Hoseok was never familiar with the comfort of being on the receiving end. To be cared about, and to be told he was cared about was quite revolutionary, and a completely profound rarity to him. And to him, these words were invented by your caring tongue; the first utterance that transformed the radical concept of care into something plausible. 

Sometimes, that’s all one needs. To be told they are cared for. Sometimes it’s enough to clean the bone of its wretched, heavy skin.

“What’s going to happen now?” You and he had migrated to look out to the fog ejecting itself among the trees and stretching all the way to the horizon. The trees were sitting so close together yet far enough for fog to slide between them. You wondered if the trees knew that they weren’t alone. 

“At this point, it's up to you.”

Once again, it wasn’t said. The beautiful things were expressed through silence because it somehow fertilized the sincerity with greater effect. Verbalizing them would have tainted what was kept clean and loving inside the warmth and safety of your hearts. You never knew to have such a connection with someone where the most important things that should be said aloud were somehow louder when they weren’t. Somehow, with the gentle brush of his arms against your sides as he was embracing you from behind, it was louder than words.

There was a stillness encompassing every piece of this moment. A stillness of the air, of time, of the two bodies placed above the fog. You and Hoseok were arrested from reality, lounging in the freedom of each other’s presence. The bright orange sun permeated through the grey clouds, reflecting specks of light along the faces of you and him. Seeing your skin once again carrying soft ornaments of the sun’s rays returned him to the only place he felt like he belonged: your heart. Being taken away from the chaos of life, Hoseok felt that this Saturday fell within the bounds of eternity.

“Are we going to be okay?”

“Together, we will be. We have each other.”

You took his hand in yours, fingers sliding together. His attention was stolen by you, or maybe it had belonged to you this whole time and was simply being returned to its rightful owner, still soaking in the sweet rays of the sun. He had no facetious, obtuse comment to tack along the tenderness of the roof. For once, he was vulnerable. It felt euphoric, like his heart truly began to pump life blood into his body.

“Okay.” He readied himself for the new world he was about to embark on, though this time, it was hand in hand with you.

“Ready?” You took a few steps back, towards the stairwell, your arm pulling Hoseok along, “I got you, Hobi.”

He nodded, no longer afraid of the dark halls. His narrative was not a singular venture. There was a partnership, a force of love perhaps, that pushed him to step forward. 

Hoseok once feared no one would get to his bones; to see the skeleton of himself underneath the epidermal armor. After many years and many layers of skin, no one had attempted much less succeeded in exposing his bones that yearned to be seen by the eyes of someone brave enough to face this quagmire.

And by chance, by timing's watchful eye, you had done just that. Lovingly exfoliated each layer of skin, washing away the scars and bruises of everything they had endured, and held his bones bare in your hands. Standing in the glimmering ocean waves of your eyes, feeling his bones, purified of all grief, against the air and conflated four years’ worth of the lonely, blinding fog once surrounding him. 

Standing in the sandbox once again of double occupancy. 

“I love you.” The words cascaded off his tongue with the same grace and earnest of what being in love felt like. Hoseok couldn’t do a lot of things and had quite a bit of trouble expressing himself for these past few years, but his love for you was something that couldn’t be anything less than accurate and sincere to do his heart a bit of justice. 

“You said that already.”

“Are you going to say it back or not?” He pulled you in by your waist, leaving you no other option than to oblige the requests he flew into the air.

“I love you, Hobi. I do. I love you.” Your hands lifted to his face, and his cheeks were warm. Though soft skin covering it, you could feel his bones. They were being caressed, loved, touched by your hands. 

He closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time he felt this at home when he wasn’t in your home of linens and lemons. His face shifted to the side to press his lips into your palm.

“I love you.” He said again, seeping into skin, printing the words into your bones. Hoseok had to repeat it, just to hear you say it once more, to make sure it was all real. That it wasn’t just him that was melting into the art of you, but the art of you touching him, coalescing with him.

“I love you.” Tears of his face were brushed by your thumb and they didn’t feel like the sad ones shed before. They were a sweet and gentle ode to everything he’d ever wanted since the moment he asked to play with you in the sandbox.

You were crying as well, holding him in your hands. Holding him. You could not see the fog, the only thing rapturing every sense was Hoseok. Your lips pressed lightly against his, feeling him smile into the kiss, and that drowned out the crisp, punishing air that pricked chills against your cheeks. 

Hoseok knew he was going to be okay.

 The two of you made your way back to the library, greeted with three suspenseful eyes, trained against the doorway partly from apprehension that Dickson would return and partly from hoping you and Hoseok would make a swift return. They, too, cared and wanted to see if Hoseok’s skin had finally shed.

“Heeeeey.” Seokjin drew out his coy greeting to tease you and Hoseok for the all too noticeable gesture of holding hands. Jimin and Namjoon were captured in the physical intimacy that you two casually displayed as well.

“You two took your sweet time, didn’t you?” Namjoon said to the pair of smiling faces now returning to the table behind Jimin without further explanation. He was implying the long absence of you and Hoseok was not delayed through a reprimand from Dickson but by your own insatiable desires for each other. 

“I found this idiot on the roof. Took me a bit to convince him to come back down here, but I did it.” You turned over to Hoseok who was investing his efforts in rearranging himself back into an outwardly tough manner.

“Oh, I bet you had to do a lot of convincing, huh ___.” Seokjin’s comment was met with a light slap against his shoulder by your hand for his lewd teasing, and the way his fingers imitated quotation marks when he said the word ‘convincing’.

“Hey! I actually had to convince him. This man is very, very stubborn.”

“Yeah, ___ wouldn’t leave me alone so I didn’t have much of a choice.” He stared at his hand once being held in yours, trying to shovel over the smile simmering on his lips. Jimin shifted to face you and Hoseok, eyes squinting to slits from reading the overwhelmingly happy expressions on your faces.

“So, Dickson came back.” Jimin said, smiling widely.

“Oh shit. What did he say?”

“We all pretended that we could see you and he was the only one that couldn’t see you guys. It was hilarious, you should have seen his face.” Seokjin intervened with his own account of the story. Jimin turned to him and burst out laughing harder than when Dickson walked like a defeated soldier out of the library.

“He was like, ‘You kids need to learn respect. You mess with the bull, you get the horns’ whatever that means. But he didn’t even end up doing anything because he knew we wouldn’t snitch. But, damn, you should have seen his face.” Jimin’s hand covered his mouth during the process of him laughing and wedging in pieces of the story in between. 

“That sounds like the dumbest cover up ever, but I guess Dickson is somehow dumber than that.” The count of five smiles amounted to each of you hunching over with laughter at the vice principal’s idle reactions to the detentionees displaying a clear sign of insubordination. 

“He is. He really is that dumb.” Namjoon said during a pause from whatever he was drawing.

“Well, either way, I appreciate the effort. And Hobi does too, even though he won’t admit it.” His stubborn disavowal of expressing appreciation contrived through rolled eyes that then landed onto the four others accompanying his space. Though shadowed through his many apathetic modes of emoting, he found this Saturday detention not only bearable, but enjoyable. He found himself attached to other people after severing all ties from actual intimacy. Being connected and vulnerable was an easier way of going about his life. And, he didn’t realize it then, but he planned on keeping it that way. 

“Hey guys?” Seokjin tossed aside the Dickson debacle with this conversational prelude, “What’s gonna happen when we go back out there?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, absentmindedly reaching over to grab Hoseok’s hand at the mention of leaving the safe space of the library. He responded to you with a gentle, reassuring squeeze that eased the contraction of your worried muscles.

“We’re still gonna be friends, right?” The prospect fell into consideration as the five of you were moved to silence. After a few exchanges of ambivalent and uncertain glances, Namjoon worked in a soft smile to soothe the frightful thought of returning to the harsh reality. 

“Yeah. We are.” His confirmation spoke for the rest of your benevolent agreement. 

“Well, I better see you guys at all of my games.” Jimin set this expectation as a receival of the newly polished friendships, grooming quite a bit of fondness being that the four of you knew more about Jimin than his own parents. “And, we’ll be sure to go to Namjoon’s.... Art competitions?”

“Not quite, but I appreciate the thought.” Namjoon laughed. 

The commonalities that were once so obscured between you all had become clear by the arrival of the eighth hour. Though there were many obstacles placed to stint any form of connection between five polar adversaries, you all found a salve from the relentless feeling of loneliness through each other. Your essays were never written, finding Dickson’s call for another Saturday detention of probable cause. Even if you were to write an essay on what you did wrong and why it was wrong as well as why you were sorry, there would be no truth unveiled in it. You all found that living unapologetically had been a far more effective catalyst for growth and maturation than any half-hearted essay assigned by a man with no credentials to call himself a student administrator.  

There was that phrase, "down to the bone", that had hung over Hoseok's mind for quite a bit today. Some say it implies when you've spent all you had, and are left with the poverty of dry marrow. That, to him, was a mutilation of the phrase which he couldn't accept.

This colloquial, "down to the bone", could not be a reference to having nothing left. Not in his case at least. Not when he felt so full of safety with nothing but his bones under the home of your eyes and hands

Hoseok looked at you, then to the other three and knew things would be different. Eventually, things would get better, he just had to wait long enough for those better things to come.

You found each other, and that was all that mattered.

 A week later, you met up in the campus’ cafe with Jimin, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok discussing the rather insignificant topic of which contestant was going to be eliminated from the reality television show you had all been keeping up with. 

“Hey, did you guys ever actually write that essay Dickson told us to write?” Seokjin asked, knowing he had failed to do so.

“Nope.” Jimin said unregretfully, almost with a prideful twist.

“Of course not.” You replied.

“Well, I might have written something on behalf of all of us. It wasn’t an essay per say, more like a letter to Dickson.” Namjoon said smugly into the cup of his coffee.

“What? What did you write?” Jimin put forth the curiosity shared by the four of you.

“Oh nothing too special.” But, of course, if it was anything of Namjoon’s doing, it was something entirely special.

You decided not to further pry on the specifics of what was written, rather sipping your coffee and learning not to regret how the hot liquid burned your tongue. Those eight hours spent in the library gifted you with a wider perspective. Maybe you burned your tongue on this coffee, and tomorrow you might miss the bus to work. Or, sometime in the near future, there would be a new store in the mall that lured you away from the errands set to a schedule and you would have to rush back to work a few minutes late. You learned that these small misdirections in life happen, at the exact right time and the exact right place.

The grateful receive of every moment, deliberate or erroneous, was like a single grain of sand. One grain might pinch out some annoyance. Ten was too textured to ignore. Dozens and thousands padded down as a sandbox where two childhood friends could play. And millions of grains of sand, of gratefully received moments, cultivated a soft shoreline; a place where the deep blue tides had a comfortable bed to tumble onto when it was tired from the tempestuous ocean. Where the contents of the ocean could spill along the wet sand, and it would humbly the tired water’s offerings. A place where a mass of misty, opaque air could roll in, cover every inch of the ocean and would blind the eyes. 

But, never the heart. 

The hearts, joined since the first grade, were free of scars because of the plethora of love that continued to flourish even in your absence. Love always keeps the heart safe.

Timing was a fickle arbiter, always tearing you from one thing to the next and the next and the next, but somehow leading you to exactly where you were meant to be. It has a way about itself, inevitably delivering you into the lives of those you were meant to be with. 

With Jimin, with Namjoon, with Seokjin.

And once again with Hoseok.

-----

a/n: thank you so much for plowing through this long, angsty one shot! i am so happy to finally release this and hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed creating it. as always, i would love to hear feedback from you lovely readers! 

[hi-i-do-stuff]

So I made a whole bunch of quick x reader oneshots here are a handful of them so. Enjoy I guess.

Jade Harley

You were feeling childish today, so you decided to take a day trip to the park! What fun! You decided to ride a scooter to the park with your decorated backpack with some food and your sketch pad and some coloring stuff, you had planned to ride around the park then take a break and draw. And that you did! You rode your scooter for about half an hour before parking it next to a tree and you walk to a bench and sit, eating your snacks and sketching some people's dogs as they walked by. You felt like something was going to happen, so you looked around and suddenly saw at the tree you parked your scooter at some jerks were stealing it! You quickly set your stuff down and bolt to the scooter, but before you could get there some girl decided to drop kick the guy stealing your bike, causing him to fall over she took the scooter from him and said, quite harshly "This doesn't belong to you." And they guy got up and ran, yelling "You're crazy lady!" As he seemed to disappear away from view. You walked up to the lady and she handed you your scooter "Here you go! Earlier I saw you riding it and then i saw that guy taking your bike, but I didn't see him with you earlier. Then I saw you at the bench over there and you seemed to not know what's going on so I got him for you!" She smiled this HUGE freaking beautiful smile, you smiled back "Thanks! You really didn't need to though. I have more scooters at home if he took it anywho." You shrugged and looked at your scooter "Well maybe we could go ride our scooters together sometime!" She says, then started to walk toward the bench you were previously sitting at "I'm Jade by the way!" She called before taking one of your pencils and writing down her chumhandle really quick before skipping off "Text me sometime (Y/N)!" "S-Sure?" You called back, a bit dumbstruck. Well guess you made a new friend... wait how did she know your name-

Dave Strider

You were in a shop that your friend dragged you to, and you hated this shop for more than one reson. It was a sex toy shop. You were so disturbed and desperate to get out and your friend wouldn't let you stay in the car. So you were stuck. Suddenly you heard another distressed person in the aisle over, so when your friend wasn't looking you peaked over, to see two boys with shades on, inside, odd. "Bro why am I here." "So you don't mess up my stuff at home." The shorter of the two groaned again, as the taller one looked away you whispered "Hey!" At the shorter blonde, and he looked over at you "Wanna get out if here?" You whisper-shouted. He looked over at the taller one then back at you, and he bolted for you. The both of you left the store and walked to another nearby one, talking about yourselfs and stuff you both had in common. He was currently talking about his caretaker's 'Job'. "-and I kid you not he threw it right at me. (Y/N) stop laughing it's not funny dude." You couldn't help yourself, suddenly you both got texts from the people who brought you into the store in the first place, you quickly traded chumhandles and went your separate ways.

Rose Lalonde

You were chilling on your roof, your house had woods behind it and a lot of people passed by or went into the woods, and your family didn't mind at all. You were half asleep when you heard two people arguing "Dave just admit we're lost." "No no- I know where we are-" "David I've never even seen this house in my life what if we're trespassing!?" You laugh to yourself a bit and sit up, looking over the roof to see two people who looked almost exactly alike. You called out to them and they both looked up at you, the girl spoke first "Hello, I apologize are we trespassing? We are kind of lost." She smiled a bit, the one who she called 'Dave' simply nodded. You hopped off the building(dont worry it's not to high off the ground, about 6-7 feet off the ground) and made your way over to them, turns out they were simply hiking, so you vave both of them your chumhandle so you could guide them if they got lost on the way back. You took a look at the map they are reading from and show them where they are. Apparently their just on the other side of town and somehow walked all the way around through the woods. You said your Goodbyes, and trust me, that girl is not going to let it down that you helped and will 100% try to do something to thank you.

John Egbert

You were at the store, looking for a movie because your friend wanted to come over that evening and watch one with you. Somehow you wandered to a section full of weird looking movies and you let out a panicked/confused whine. Apparently someone heard you and walked over "Hi, uh, are you alright?" He asked nervously, obviously the boy didn't have much social interaction so he was a bit nervous. "Yeah I'm fine... I'm just looking for a good movie for my friend-" you said smiling at him, he seemed to light up at this "I know some good movies! Follow me." He said cheerfully as he dragged you around the store, and for a good while you talked about each other and some other things. When you finally had picked out a movie he offered you to come over to his house sometime and you two could watch a movie together. You thought this was a great idea and exchanged Chumhandles before you left the store.

This was awful but eh. Hey I take request :/

[revol-lover]

dreams don’t end at “30″

so i just had a little breakthrough and maybe this wont sound like anything to anyone else but i just have to share it

so i’ve talked about this before. about how my friend and i were both planning these personal development like goals for this year that covid got in the way of. and he said something, about how this is his last year in his 20s and he wanted to get some goals accomplished before 30 

and i thought about that and realized something.

i have been feeling similarly about a few goals that i’ve been hanging onto for years and years. like i’m going to be honest with you, some people might remember this if you’ve been around here for a long time but probably not. anyway when i was in high school i really wanted to make music, sing, learn an instrument. and i did make some covers that i posted on myspace (showing my age here lol) and youtube but then i kind of gave up on it when

 1) became 18 and realized my dream to go to NYC and pursue music when i was 18 wasn’t happening because of a million reasons (it was very much a pipe dream, right? i mean you can’t have that dream and not prepare for it and i didnt. also i was too scared at the time to even move out to my own place if i had the funds to do so because my parents wouldnt have really approved and i was still so under their thumb) 

2) broke up with my musician boyfriend. which needed to happen. but he was the only person super passionate about that kind of goal at the time around me (till he ran lol)  and he actually is still doing music now so good for him but basically 

because of those 2 reasons i just let go of that dream all together as something i thought i wanted to do but was “unrealistic”.

but the thing about turning 30 and feelings like you needed to achieve all these personal/dreamy/goals in your 20s. what is that bullshit? why? 

what changes when you cross over to 30? i’ll tell you one thing. media pushes movies, books, films, everything about people chasing their dreams in their 20s and “settling” down in their 30s. where’s my inspiring movie about the 32 year old mom who finally wrote a song and performed it live after being terrified her whole life of doing so?

 think about it though

in your 30s you. *might* have a better paying job than you did in your 20s. which means, if you can manage to find time or a way for it, you *might* be able to save a little more money or afford to do something like, buy that guitar and guitar lessons in order to learn to play and write a song and live out your dream in some way, even if its just learning to play so you can play at an open mic. and maybe you’ll like that and you’ll somehow connect with likeminded people and form a band. idk. your dreams dont have to end in your 20s. 

you dont have to fall into the trap of your 20s are for your dreams that are so big you feel like the chance of achieving them is getting struck by lightening

and then your 30s are for fancy adult goals like buying a house, and going on a $10k vacation and those things are probably just as hard as the goals you had in your 20s but the world wont make you see it that way. its seen as “selfish” to prioritize and budget for your artistic goals - but not a house. no that’s responsible and what you “should” do. but its ok to prioritize something that’s going to give your soul fulfillment too! we need to believe that! because it’s true. we are not here just to work our jobs and live mundane colorless lives once we aren’t considered “young” anymore (but 30s are still young. not what i’m saying)

 you’re always going to be chasing something big and if you let the world control what that thing is you’re always going to be on some rat race. 

it’s fine if you achieve your goals in a different order than the world says you were supposed to. i got married young and had a child young, that was how my life played out and i’m happy with that because, yes, finding love and becoming a mother very much were goals of mine.

yes i dropped out of college because i couldn’t afford it and i couldnt find a major that felt worth being in debt for. and also, because hey guess what? contrary to what a lot of people will try to lead you to believe, college is not for everyone. and college does not = success. college drop out does not = failure. it’s just an option of something you could do with your life. AND if you didn’t go to your college in your 20s it doesnt mean you can’t in your 30s. or 50s. hell my husband, who did go to college saw elderly (think, 80s!) people going to his college as students! college isn’t just for 18 year olds fresh out of high school. 

My 27th birthday is in 2 weeks and no, i have not yet to worked up the courage to write an original song from words to music, or have the courage to get on a stage and sing anything, or talk to a stranger, or publish any of my writing or art, goals i’ve had whirling around in my brain since I was 18, but, it’s going to happen. maybe this year. maybe when i’m 35, but it’s going to happen. a number is not going to be the thing holding me back.

that whole mentality of “my youth is slipping away i need to achieve all these dreams before midnight the day of my 30th birthday” is so stupid and flawed and we all deserve to see ourselves, and our individual potential as more than that. 

last part of this rant - one of the reason i even became so passionate about reignighting some of my dusty, old goals, that it turned out, i still cared about, is because i had a moment where i was like

ok i am a mom. i am someones mom. how will my daughter see me, as a person, not just her mom? 

kevin and i always talk about how between the two of us we’ve both had a lot of quintessential young adult experiences that we look forward to sharing with her. like, quitting jobs, getting in car accidents, that one time i unknowingly participated in an illegal bonfire and ran from the cops then lied straight to their faces and somehow got away with it (literally my ONE act of teen rebellion), changing college majors like 3 years in (kevin), failed classes, tried cigarettes, etc like i’m ready, and hope that one day she will feel comfortable talking to us about things because we’ve been through things and have a lot of input and two different perspectives to offer

but further than that, i realized that i want her to know that her mom is a person too. i want her to know that mom is also passionate about writing, and music, and somehow tackled some of her goals in regards to that so that SHE can feel that SHE, too can do those things. and i know that, that is in part how it works 

because,

my dad IS an artist. my dad IS a musician. yall. my dad is SO talented.  my dad is brilliant. besides his artistic abilities which include, drawing literal realistic as fuck portraits, sculpting, painting, playing guitar, bass, piano, mandolin, he also knows music composition, etc etc etc beyond all of that, he also taught himself fucking PLUMBING and ELECTRICIAN SHIT to fix things in our house growing up. like he bought a book. and taught himself. my dad. i grew up thinking that was normal but i realized not everyones dad can just tear down the bathroom and rebuild it from scratch down to the plumbing without being a licensed professional.

but anyway the point is - as talented as my dad is, he doesnt really pursue his artistic dreams much. and its sad. i’m glad that i’ve seen some of the work he did when he was younger. i’m glad that if i bring it up, he’ll show me something he can do. but he doesnt pursue it anymore really. my dad works an exhausting physical labor job but even he, as a 50something year old has fallen into that trap of like, i dont have time to draw, but he will scroll his phone and read articles for hours and i’m not shaming him. i’m just saying we all have this problem in the modern era of technology and social media and what not (hell i am writing a post on tumblr instead of my book right now).

but if timing was different and my dad grew up in a different time, where lets say something distracted him from doing the little bit of art and music that he did when i was a kid that i was able to witness, if i hadnt seen that. i wouldnt know that.. in a way.. that’s in me. i mean, he’s my dad. if my dad could pick up a craft and work at it to be good at it, why can’t i? there are so many musicians and (kind unrelated but not rly - i think being “self made” is an art) business owners in my family. there’s either some common thread in our genetics ORRRRRRRRRR just growing up around people working at and succeeding at those kinds of goals shows you that it CAN be done so you’re more likely to believe in your abilities

and i want that for my daughter. because even as an almost 3 year old i can see that she has a gift for music, and reading. and even if i’m wrong about that and she grows up wanting to do some other thing as a job or hobby, i want her to know, by seeing her mom do it, that she can achieve anything she puts her heart to. you don’t have to box yourself in because of your age or your sex or the fact that you’re a parent. 

and your dream doesnt have to become your career. it can be a hobby and still be fulfilling. like yes, 18 year old me dreamed about some life in nyc singing in clubs or bars or whatever and being ~famous (lol) and that did not happen, but i can still get out there and play open mic downtown and get that love of music, and desire to face my fear of performing out of my system. maybe i’ll love it. maybe i’ll hate it. but i’ll have done it. and that’s the ultimate goal. 

sorry i went off but i had to get that out of my system and i’m very passionate about 

[smutandfluffohmy]

Hickeys from my friend

From: Smutandfluffohmy Character parings: Peter Pan x Reader Warnings: Smut. cursing. College AU Request:  Prompt 49. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” An 72. “You donT have to cover up those hickeys bruises.” For Peter Pan pleeeeease Word count: 2K A/n: PLEASE FOLLOW @n0rthern-litez they’re the sweetest and so talented. They also helped me with my senior citizen moment. (Big thanks to them for showing me how to put a Masterlist link on my header)

You knocked on the dorm door with your right hand and held on to the heavy bag with snacks and other essentials with your left. You looked around the dorm hall your eyes landing on the small dry and erase board he had hanging on his door. Grabbing the marker that hanged from a string you started scribbling a little drawing of Peter in his cafe uniform. The drawing looked nothing like him so you wrote his name over his head, writing ‘More bitter than the coffee he serves - Y/N’ under the drawing. Before you could write anything else the door swung open, coming face to face with a drenched Peter who was drying off his hair.

“Sorry about that I couldn’t get the smell of coffee off of me.” He said smiling at you stepping to the side and letting you inside. Stepping inside you placed the bag on the couch and slumping down in the couch. His shirt clung to his chest highlighting all the places that were still wet, water slowly falling around his feet.

“Could you make me a cup?” You pouted at him giving him the biggest puppy eyes. He sighed tapping the couch arm rest with two fingers he began to turn around to set up a cup of coffee. You grabbed for his arm and pulled him closer to you “Joking come on I brought snacks for movie night.” You smiled at him.

“I picked some of the best movies to watch today.” He smiled widely at you, booting up the game console and scrolling through his Netflix list. “Do you want to watch Scooby-Doo 2, Goofy movie, Chicken little or stuart little.” He said scrolling past the movies showing off each movie to you as if they were brand new and needed him to pitch them to you.

“You’re such a child.” You groaned rolling your eyes at him, reaching into the bag and taking out a tin of caramel popcorn handing it over to him. “Stuart little of course it’s a classic.” You smiled, as he began playing the movie both of you sat in silence watching the movie. Both of you shifted slightly closer to each other throughout the movie, you reached into your bag and took out some black licorice.

“Here’s your trash candy.” You whispered handing the candy to him.

“This is good candy you just have shit taste.” He said opening up the bag and putting a vine in his mouth. “Try one.” He said taking out another one and and poking your mouth with it.

“Eww no.” You said sticking out your tongue in disgust. He leaned further into you and pleaded for you to give it a try. “It’s taste like vomit Peter.” You laughed trying to push him away.

“Just a bite please. For me.” He smiled cheekly at you causing you to groan and slightly open your mouth, he placed a bit of the candy inside of it and you bit down on it with a face of disgust the entire time. He crept closer to you while you ate the candy.

“Peter Pan are you trying to kiss me while we’re watching Stuart Little?” You teased as you leaned in closer to him, your noses mere centimeters apart. You could feel his breathe on your mouth the movie droaning on in the background. You looked into his green eyes realizing you have never been this close to him the entire time you’ve been friends.

Without answering he grabbed your face pulling you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and he tasted like black licorice, your hands traveled up to his hair your body melting into his. His hands digging into the small of your back urging you to get closer to him, breaking the kiss you moved your leg on the side of legs closing the gaps between the two of you.

The kiss got rougher and deeper his hands begin to travel up and play with the straps of your tank top. Breaking the kiss he traveled down to your neck leaving hickeys scattered through your neck and chest, his fingers hooked on the straps of your shirt and bra dragging them down off your shoulder.

“Take your shirt off.” He said, his expression cold his eyes no longer the bright green. Obliging you took it off discarding it to the side lifting off of him letting him take off his pants. His fingers hooked on to the top of your jeans helping you tug them off, slipping your hands under his shirt you pulled his shirt off of him.

“You’re so pretty. You know that don’t you.” He whispered in your ear, sending shivers over your body playing with the top of his boxers wanting to tug them off. Nodding and moaning into his ear you missed his touch and he knew that as he watched you squirm on top of him.

“Eager aren’t we angel.” He smiled as he watched you take off his underwear, reaching over to the side table he grabbed a pair of scissors and without any warning he cut your underwear off of you. Placing yourself over him to place him inside of you both of you groaning. Flashes of memories of the times you and Peter had had sex with a movie or homework being forgotten to the side was too many to keep count.

Peter kissed you while you continued to go up and down, his dick seemingly hitting deeper inside of you everytime you did. Your fingers scratched his back pressing your chest against Peter wanting to break any space that was between the two of you. His fingers digging on your hips bringing you closer to him, with his other hand he brought your face to his as he kissed you softly.

It got rougher but the kiss remained soft and gentle, moaning into his mouth which seemed to only egg him on more to pull you down further into him. A knot building inside of your stomach as Peter picked up the pace his strokes getting sloppy and slower.

Rocking your hips as you began trying to pick the pace up, your chin resting on his shoulder embracing Peter close to you. You moaned out as peter picked up the pace coming inside of you as you came seconds later collapsing on top of him both of you heavily breathing against each other.

Sliding down to lay on the couch you let another movie play on as the both of you fell asleep.

Waking up you put your shirt back on, looking for your underwear as memories from last night flashed through your mind as you saw the cut up underwear. You made your way to Peter’s room looking for some underwear to walk back to your own dorm. Grabbing a pair out of his drawer you put them on and headed to the kitchen the cold tile floor under your feet. Grabbing a clean cup from the cabinet and a carton of orange juice from the fridge pouring yourself a glass.

“Good morning.” He smiled to you from the couch stretching his arms over his head.

“Morning” You said sipping the cup of orange juice in your hand. Peter got off the couch putting his underwear on and making his way towards you. Kissing the top of your head he went to grab a cup from the cabinet, ignoring how confused and bewildered you were looking at him.

“You want to go to the mall? Maybe a movie we actually have never seen a full movie.” He smiled at you sitting up on the counter.

“Umm yea sure just let me go to my room to change.” You said eyeing him oddly placing the empty cup you walked out of his dorm feeling weird.

“Meet you at the car!” Peter called out to you as the door closed behind you. You went to your dorm to take a shower and change meeting Peter who was sitting already sitting in his car scrolling through his phone. The car ride there was silent from the most part with only the sounds was the radio playing songs you couldn’t concentrate on and the sounds of car honking. Peter parked his car in the parking lot both of you walking inside the mall, his fingers twitching towards yours.

“Lets go get something to eat.” You said walking past him and towards the food court, tugging at the top of your turtle neck.

“You know you don’t have to cover up those hickeys right?” He teased shoving you slightly.

“I don’t want people getting the wrong idea.” You flatly said walking over to a restaurant getting in line to order something for the both of you. Peter walked to get a table unsure if he heard you right but he was sure he could feel his heart sank.

You looked up at the menu when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around you were greeted with a older boy with big brown eyes and a big smile.

“I think you dropped this.” He said handing you a receipts that he held out to you.

“A receipt for panda express?” You said unfolding the receipt amusingly smiling at him.

“I thought it may be important. You know for taxes and stuff.” He smiled digging his hands in his pockets as the both of you laughed. You were about to ask his name when you felt a arm snake around your waist causing you to jump slightly.

“Hey babe who’s this.” Peter said tugging you closer to him, the smile falling off the boys face as Peter’s grew wider.

“What are you doing?” You questioned trying to slightly pull away from him.

“Look man she looks uncomfortable.Just let her go” They boy said reaching over to you trying to get some distance between you and Peter.

“Get your hands off her or you won’t have a hand at all.” Peter said shoving a finger in the boys face whos color fell from his face completely at Peters sudden threat.

“Stop it what’s your problem.” You said your face growing hot from embarrassment as you pushed past him to stomp out of the mall as quickly as you could. Your pace quickened as the cool spring air hit your face.

“Y/n wait!” Peter called out from behind you, you began jogging away from him as quickly as you could. “Talk to me please.” Peter said running in front of you stopping you in your tracks.

“Why did you do that!” You said poking his chest furrowing your brow looking up at him.

“Because he was hitting on you and you’re my girlfriend.” Peter said his hand reaching to push a strand of loose hair away from your face.

“I’m not your girlfriend.We’re just friends.” You frowned swatting his hand away.

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” Peter said smiling at you like he knew something that you didn’t, like if you weren’t the other party involved.

“Okay so fuck buddies. Friends with benefits call it whatever you want!” You said getting frustrated remembering the agreement you both came to when you first started sleeping with each other. ‘This is just sex’ ‘yea I know’ the words filling your mind. And wasn’t that the only rule when you have friends with benefits to not catch feelings for them?

“But I care about you and I know you care about me.Come on little dove give me a reason on why we shouldn’t date.” He said reaching again pushing hair away from your face, letting him this time. You stood there your mind growing blank the more you tried to string words together.

Peter smiled tapping your chin to make you look up at him. ‘Fuck you Peter there was only one rule to this and you’re making me break it’ you thought to yourself. He smiled coyly at you like if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

[livingasaghost]

a comprehensive list of all the lyrics from reputation that remind me of feyre/rhys/feysand/acomaf:

“WE THINK WE KNOW SOMEONE, BUT THE TRUTH IS THAT WE ONLY KNOW THE VERSION OF THEM THAT THEY HAVE CHOSEN TO US” - introducing the high lord and lady of the frikkin night court PLEASE BOW

ready for it 

“knew he was a killer first time that i saw him” - UM HELLO MEETING RHYS AT THE FIRE NIGHT?!

“in the middle of the night in my dreams you should see the things we do baby” - i swear half of their relationship started in their heads those filthy idiots

“knew i was a robber first time that he saw me” - feyre literally becomes a spy in tamlin’s house

“but if i’m a thief then he can join the heist and we’ll move to an island” - THEY PULL OFF THAT HUGE HEIST TOGETHER IN ACOWAR AND THEY BASICALLY WANNA MOVE TO THAT LIL CABIN IN ACOMAF am i shouting i’m sorry

“he can be my jailer burton to this FEYRE” - at first he’s kind of her jailer but then she falls in love with him soooo (also this could be satire bc tamlin was literally her jailer)

“every love i’ve known in comparison is a failure” - TAMLIN THE TOOL AM I RIGHT

“i forget their names now, i’m so very tame now, never be the same now” - satire again but she does become ‘tame’ once she goes back with tamlin

“baby let the games begin” - oof acowar am i right

end game 

“big reputation ooooh you and me we got big reputations” - literally rhys and feyre both end up with big reputations 

“ooooh you and me would be a big conversation” - THE DEFINITION OF THEIR EFFING RELATIONSHIP

“i got a bad boy persona that’s what they like -- you love it” - freaking rhysand oof

“you hold me down and i’ll protect you with my life” - literally rhys about feyre

“i don’t wanna touch you i don’t wanna be just another ex-love you don’t wanna see” - feyre when she doesn’t realize she loves rhys and they’re mates lol

“KNEW HER WHEN I WAS YOUNG RECONNECTED WHEN WE LITTLE BIT OLDER” - okay so feyre and rhys didn’t know each other as kids BUT they were mentally connected by the bond so that’s kind of the same thing??

“reputation precedes me, in rumors i’m knee deep” - RHYS AND amirightladies

“for all your beautiful traits and the way you do it with ease” - literally i swear rhys says this about feyre all the time

“for all my flaws paranoia and insecurities -- i’ve made mistakes and made some choices that’s hard to deny” - and here’s rhys being self-deprecating as always

“i hit you like bang, we tried to forget it but we just couldn’t” - oof talk about their whole relationship 

“i swear i don’t love the drama it loves me” - okay so this is like feyre and rhys both like both of them attract so much freaking drama without even trying

“i can’t let you go your hand prints on my soul” - FEYSAND FEELS

“you’ve been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks so here’s the truth from my red lips -- I WANNA BE YOUR END GAME” - in acomaf when feyre is just a DUMB DEPRESSED ABUSED BITCH rhys is like UH UH I AM CALLING YOUR BLUFF AND BRINGING YOU BACK TO LIFE ANGEL 

i did something bad

do i need to even do this one lol

“i never trust a narcissist, but they love me” - this whole song is about tamlin we BEEN KNEW

“for every lie i tell them, they tell me three” - literally tamlin and ianthe whenever they talk to feyre lol

“this is how the world works, now all he thinks about is me” - when she leaves tamlin is so bent up on her and she just wants him to let it go but HE CANT

“IF A MAN TALKS SHIT THEN I OWE HIM NOTHING i don’t regret it one bit cuz he had it comin” - poetic cinema

“they say i did something bad, then whys it feel so good?” - tamlin and lucien and everyone just thinks she’s evil and awful for siding with rhys but it doesn’t even matter HAHAHA

“so i fly em all around the world and i let them think they saved me” - when feyre goes back to tamlin’s court oof

“they never see it comin what i do next” - feyre causing trouble in the spring court in acowar hehehe

“he says dont throw away a good thing, but if he drops my name then i owe him nothing and if he spends my change THEN HE HAD IT COMIN” - HEAR THAT TAMLIN YOU HAD IT COMIN

“they’re burning all the witches even if you arent one - so light me up” - this whole song is just a feyre anthem am i right

don’t blame me

“don’t blame me love made me crazy” - feyre when she pretends the bond is broken at the end of acomaf lol “NO TAMLIN I PROMISE ID NEVER DO THAT RHYS MADE ME CRAZY”

“something happened for the first time in the darkest little paradise” - the freaking night court is a dark little paradise am i right

“for you i would cross the line” - FEYRE! CROSSED OVER! FROM THE SPRING COURT! INTO THE NIGHT COURT!

“they say she’s gone too far this time” - literally everyone judging her for jumping ship to rhys

“echoes of your name inside my mind, halo hiding my obsession” - !!!!!! THEY LITERALLY ECHO IN EACH OTHER’S MINDS!!! AND THEY’RE SO OBSESSED!!!

“i once was poison ivy but now i’m your daisy” - this line is interesting bc in theory she went from a daisy to poison ivy but RHYS actually turned her from the depressed poison ivy she was in acomaf to the daisy that loves him and fights for their court OOF

“and baby for you i would fall from grace just to touch your face” - FREAKING THIS LINE!!!! FEYRE FELL FROM GRACE BC SHE WANTED TO TOUCH RHYS’ FACE!!!

“if you walk away id beg you on my knees to stay” - all i can picture is rhys on his knees rememberrrr

delicate

“my reputation’s never been worse so you must like me for me” - RHYSAND TO FEYRE 

“we can’t make any promises now can we babe? but you can make me a drink” - this is like the beginning of their relationship bc they never really make promises to each other but they just spend time together and hope it’ll work out

“oh damn never seen that color blue” - mmmmm rhys’s eyes what a time

“is it chill that you’re in my head?” - honestly this whole song is rhys @ feyre

“do the girls back home touch you like i do?” - feyre thinking about freaking amarantha???

“echoes of your footsteps on the stairs, stay here honey i don’t wanna share” - all those times that rhys had to leave to do whatever business he had

“sometimes i wonder when you sleep, are you ever dreaming of me?” - !!!! the purest lil rhysand 

“sometimes when i look into your eyes i pretend you’re mine all the damn time” - if this isn’t feysand i swear

look what you made me do

GO OFF FEYRE GO OFF!!!

“i don’t like your little games don’t like your tilted stage the role you made me play, of the fool, no i don’t like you” - FEYRE GOING OFF ON TAMLIN AM I RIGHT

“but i got smarter i got harder in the nick of time, honey i rose up from the dead i do it all the time” - i just like to imagine feyre drawing herself to her full height with her wings and her fierce face and just towering over tamlin in rage

“i’ve got a list of names and yours in red underlined” - i mean....feyre has a list for sure

“LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!!!” - tamlin look what you made her do geez

“i don’t like your kingdom keys they once belonged to me” - MMMM feyre once liked the spring court but then he just LOCKED HER IN AND TOOK THE KEYS

“the world moves on another day another drama drama, but not for me not for me all i think about it karma” - feyre going to rhys is totally dramatic but she keeps thinking about the karma of it all

“maybe i got mine but you’ll all get yours” - FEYRE @ THE SPRING COURT

“i don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me” - lucien @ feyre

“i’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams” - god if this aint feyre

“i’m sorry the old feyre can’t come to the phone right now -- why? OH! CUZ SHE’S DEAD!” - !!!!! SHE IS NOW HIGH LADY GO OFF GIRL

so it goes

literally just the feysand sex anthem 

“see you in the dark, all eyes on you my magician” - rhys is totally feyre’s magician omg

“gold cage hostage to my feelings” - so many cage metaphors but this is a good nice cage bc it’s just her being held hostage by her feelings and not a mean white guy

“all the pieces fall right into place” - that’s feysand for ya

“you know i’m not a bad girl, but i do bad things with you” - FREAKING that’s just the definition of rhys and feyre 

“i make all your gray days clear and wear you like a necklace” - honestly this works for both of them bc they both make their gray days clear (and wear each other around lol)

“but i got your heart skippin when i’m gone” - rhys always being afraid when feyre goes off 

“scratches down your back now...” - i mean...need i say more?

“you did a number on me, but honestly baby who’s counting?” - let’s pretend i like writing about sex yikes

gorgeous

IF THIS AINT JUST TRUE FEYSAND

“you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong” - rhys definitely has a very strong magnetic field 

“and i got a boyfriend he’s older than us, he’s in the club doin i don’t know what” - lol @ tamlin

“you’ve ruined my life by not being mine” - i mean...come on

“you’re so gorgeous i can’t say anything to your face, cuz look at your face” - yes rhysand is GORGEOUS *DING*

“and i’m so furious at you for making me feel this way” - feyre was always just so mad whenever she started liking him bc she didn’t want to what a dumb bitch

“you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room” - this is like the whole beginning of their relationship haha

“ocean blue eyes looking in mine i feel like i might sink and drown and die” - !!!!! RHYSAND!!!

getaway car

I MEAN COME ON??! is taylor just copying acomaf??!

“it was the best of times the worst of crimes” - what tamlin did was a crime honestly

“i struck a match and blew your mind but i didn’t mean it and you didn’t see it” - this is all of tamlin and feyre’s relationship in acomaf honestly like feyre does stuff she doesn’t actually mean but tamlin doesn’t see it anyway

“i wanted to leave him, i needed a reason” - !!! SHE WANTED TO LEAVE TAMLIN!!! SHE DIDN’T HAVE A REASON THO SO SHE JUST CRIED FOR HELP!

“he poisoned the well i was lying to myself” - did he not?

“you were drivin the getaway car we were flyin but we never get far” - rhysand swooped in (although technically it was mor but whatever!)

“it was the great escape the prison break, the light of freedom on my face” - when feyre finally made it to the night court oof!

“he was runnin after us i was screamin go! go! go! but with 3 of us honey it’s a sideshow” - this is exactly what happened

“we were jet set bonnie and clyde - until i switched to the other side” - she and tam were partners! but then she jumped ship to the night court!

“i’m in a getaway car, i left you in the motel bar, put the money in a bag and i stole the keys, that was the last time you ever saw me” - i like to think about how feyre just skipped out of the spring court like the devious little minx she is

“i was riding in a getaway car, i was cryin in a getaway car, i was dyin in a getaway car, said goodbye in a getaway car” - oof

king of my heart

AND ALL AT ONCE!!!

“we rule the kingdom inside my room” - yep that’s feysand alright

“cause all the boys and their expensive cars with their range rovers and their jaguars never took me quite where you do” - tamlin gave her so much and yet he really didn’t give her what counted hmmmm

“AND ALL AT ONCE YOU ARE THE ONE I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR KING OF MY HEART BODY AND SOUL” - sigh

“your love is a secret i’m hoping dreaming dying to keep” - they have to hid their love when feyre goes back to tamlin and now i’m sad

“change my priorities the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury” - before rhys feyre really didn’t have anything to fight for so he gave her purpose and life and proved that she had that in her all along, even without him

“is this the end of all the endings? my broken bones are mending with all these nights we’re spending” - RHYS LITERALLY BROUGHT HER BACK TO LIFE AFTER SHE LOST SO MUCH WEIGHT AT TAMLINS

“baby all at once this is enough” - feysaaaand

dancing with our hands tied

���i loved you in secret, first sight we loved without reason” - even though she didn’t love him from that first time at the fire night, even when she saw him she was like OOF THIS GUY

“my love had been frozen, deep blue but you painted me golden” - !!!! NAME A MORE PERFECT LYRIC! FEYRE WAS LITERALLY DEPRESSED AND BLUE BUT RHYS BROUGHT HER BACK AND MADE HER GOLDEN!

“you said there was nothing in the world that could stop it, i had a bad feeling” - literally just them going to hybern

“you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis” - need i say more

“people started talking, putting us through our paces, i knew there was no one in the world who could take it” - when word got out that they were together and ppl just hated that

“but we were dancing, dancing with our hands tied” - mmmm starfall

“i loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us” - like honestly feysand to the extreme

“so baby can we dance through an avalanche?” - oof

“i’m a mess but i’m the mess that you wanted” - FEYRE IS SUCH A MESS! RHYS IS SUCH A MESS! BUT THEY BOTH WANTED EACH OTHER!!!

“cause it’s gravity keeping you with me” - they’re literally mates and they keep being destined to be together it’s gravity bay-beeee

“i’d kiss you as the lights went out, swaying as the room burned down, i’d hold you as the water rushes in, if i could dance with you again” - literally the end of acomaf i’m sad

dress

the other feysand sex anthem yeet

“our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you” - oof when they have to go to the court of nightmares

“there is an indentation in the shape of you, made your mark on me a golden tattoo” - this is so feysand it hurts

“all of this silence and patience pining and anticipation my hands are shaking from holding back from you” - like???? honestly get a room

“say my name and everything just stops i don’t want you like a best friend” - remember when feyre thought they were just friends LOL

“ONLY BOUGHT THIS DRESS SO YOU COULD TAKE IT OFF” - it be like that sometimes

“inescapable i’m not even gonna try” - that’s exactly what their relationship is

“and if i get burned at least we were electrified” - oh they were electrified all right

“i’m spillin wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we’re both drunk, everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about...” - just like...imagine the two of them...im crying

“even in my worst times, you could see the best in me” - !!!!! feyre @ rhysand and rhysand @ feyre

“flashback to mistakes, my rebounds my earthquakes, even in my worst lies you saw the truth in me” - tag a more perfect couple

“and i woke up just in time, now i wake up by your side, my one and only my lifeline” - IT’S THEM! EACH OTHER’S LIFELINE!

this is why we can’t have nice things

“why’d you have to rain my parade? i’m shaking my head i’m locking the gates” - honestly tamlin is at fault like he didn’t have to be an asshat and yet...

“THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS DARLING BECAUSE WE BREAK THEM I HAD TO TAKE THEM AWAY” - feyre taking herself (the nice thing) out of the spring court bc tamlin’s an ass

“did you think i wouldn’t hear all the things you said about me????” - literally so much shit-talking is done in the spring court i swear

“there i was giving you a second chance but you stabbed me in the back whlie shaking my hand” - the definition of tamlin honestly

“so i took an axe to a mended fence” - BYE BYE BITCH

“but i’m not the only friend you lost lately IF ONLY YOU WEREN’T SO SHADY” - lucien even said tamlin was in the wrong!!! AND TAMLIN WAS SO SHADY HE WENT TO THE KING OF HYBERN!!!

“here’s a toast to my real friends!” - we love the inner circle

“and here’s to my baby!” - we stan rhysand

“and here’s to you cuz forgiveness is a nice thing to do -- I CANT EVEN SAY IT WITH A STRAIGHT FACE” - LOLOLOLOL

call it what you want

okay out of ALL OF THE SONGS this one is definitely the one that matches up the most, the one that i think is truly 100% the best feysand song in existence

“my castle crumbled overnight” - feyre literally was in the spring court and then suddenly she just felt awful and tamlin was the worst

“i brought a knife to a gunfight” - feyre trying to fight amarantha but also trying to go against tamlin

“all the liars are calling me one” - IANTHE AND TAMLIN OOF

“nobody’s heard from me for months, i’m doin better than i ever was” - !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YAS BITCH

“my baby’s fit like a daydream, walking with his head down i’m the one he’s walking to” - rhys does not care what anyone says or thinks he just loves feyre oof

“SO CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT YEAH CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT TO” - literally no one understands them outside the inner circle and i just wanna die

“my baby’s fly like a jetstream, high about the whole scene, loves me like i’m brand new” - RHYS LITERALLY FLIES! AND LOVES HER LIKE SHE’S BRAND NEW!!!

“all my flowers grew back as thorns, windows boarded up after the storm” - funny bc it’s a court of THORNS and ROSES but also she did change from that innocent soft girl to someone who would cut a bitch for her friends, she also is really closed off at the start of acomaf and rhys just...

“he built a fire just to keep me warm” - KEEPS HER WARM!

“all the drama queens taking swings, all the jokers dressing up as kings” - the frikkin spring court (tamlins the drama queen lol)

“they fade to nothing when i look at him” - dare i say oof

“and i know i make the same mistakes every time, bridges burn i never learn at least i did one thing right” - SHE DID ONE THING RIGHT

“i’m laughing with my lover making forts under covers” - picture feysand building a pillow fort

“STARRY EYES SPARKING UP MY DARKEST NIGHT” - LIKE COME ON!!! THE NIGHT COURT!!! IM SCREAMING!!

“I WANT TO WEAR HIS INITIAL ON A CHAIN ROUND MY NECK, NOT BECAUSE HE OWNS ME BUT CUZ HE REALLY KNOWS ME” - okay wait this one though....dare i say....oof

“you don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me - yes” - that’s like the definition of feysand 

new year’s day

“there’s glitter on the floor after the party” - STAR FALL!!!!

“don’t read the last page but i stay when you’re lost and i’m scared and you’re turning away” - i’ve run out of cool anecdotes so cut to me sobbing

“i want your midnights” - like...all their nightmares....

“i can tell that it’s gonna be a long road, but i’ll be there if you’re the toast of the town babe, or if you strike out and you’re crawling home” - oof

“i stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we’re making mistakes” - still feeling things

“hold on to the memories they will hold on to you” - im sad

why she disappeared

“when she fell, she fell apart” - feyre in acomaf am i right

“cracked her bones on the pavement she once decorated as a child with sidewalk chalk” - FEYRE’S A PAINTER! IT FITS!

“when she lay there on the ground, she dreamed of time machines and revenge and a love that was really something, not just the idea of something” - honestly tho if this aint feyre

“when she stood, she stood with a desolate knowingness, waded out into the dark wild ocean up to her neck, bathed in her brokenness” - *singing* acomafff

“said a prayer of gratitude for each chink in the armor she never knew she needed” - it helped her find rhysand

“standing broad shouldered next to her was a love that was really something” - OOF

“without your past, you could never have arrived, so wondrously and brutally, by design or some violent exquisite happenstance...here” - !!!!!! FEYRE ARCHERON EVERYBODY!!!!

[yesitsnightstar01-blog]

Day 1

This is mostly for myself. Where I can be anonomous and no one know my identity. Where I can someone say all the things I am feeling, all my thoughts, and anything that comes to mind.

Well. That being said. I am just having a hard time. I just cannot believe you slept with 7 people! 7!!! Like wtf. I am so upset, angry, and to be honest disgusted. Idk how I can move forward after learning this. Even today. Mothers day, i was expecting certain things. Like breakfast, flowers, chocolates, even a nice gift. Nothing fancy. But nothing. Even once you took our boy to school and said good bye that you were off to work. I saw you on your phone. You came over and lightly kissed me and said happy mothers day and left. You said Sunday we would celebrate, that nothing for today. But you have always known I celebrate today. May 10. 

Throught my day I cried a few times, 7 being stuck in my head and the significance behind that number. I really wish I could be as vengeful as you. Hurt you back. But although i have a lot of issues, vengence was never one of them. Though times like this I wish I could. But i want to believe I am better than that, that hopefully one day I can look back and be happy i didnt do as you did.

Even as you came home, i still hoped for something, a small action of affection. But I saw you come up the stairs, hoping that i would see some flowers behind your back. But all i saw was your keys. we spoke some words, I went to throw the trash away and you went to pull the car in. Same direction, no help from you. And as i passed by you back to our apartment we just made brief eye contact and said nothing. Just walked back up. You are currently watching basketball in the living room. While I am in the room. Typing away my thoughts and feelings. Hoping this will make me feel better. Putting it all on here into the internet, the world, but without anyone knowing who i am or that this exists.

I am typing. Letting my face mask dry. I thought this was another good idea, as it maybe might just make me feel a bit special like having a spa day on a special day like today, Mothers Day.

How can i move past this? I cringe at the thought of you having been with 7 people. I dont know if I can. And maybe the only reason why you even want to try like me is solely for using me for sex? or maybe you dont want me to move on from you? maybe you dont want me to sleep with others and only you? I dont know. I feel i need to do things for myself, even if we are ‘trying’ though to be honest it doesnt feel like that. I still feel very lonely, unloved, and unappreciated.

I spend my days in my room, sleeping. I dont really eat, i dont much around the house. I find myself sad, and mad, and crying most of the time. The only time where I am myself again is when I am with the stinks. He keeps me moving. Today he is the only one that made me feel special. His MOMMY! as i walked into this classroom, his gift to me 3 candies, and a cup drawed on, a photo of him as a plant and shapes he drew for me. Told me the worked really hard on it for me because he loves me. That made my day. He made my day.

Well this is enough venting. I will remain here in the comfort of my PJS, my hair tied back, my clean face, watching a movie, in my bed, which lately has been my best friend. We shall see how I feel tomorrow. I am sure I will have lots more to write about.

And to be honest. This has made me feel somewhat better. I just want to be happy, count on myself for that. But its a learning process and hopefully one day I wont feel how I do now.

[red-and-blue-sewer-circus-arc]

Rufo the Clown: Journey pt 7

Warnings: blood, angst, mention of child death

Rufo got out of the car and stepped around to open your door for you, like he always did. You didn't fight or argue with him, instead you took his offered hand and let him pull you from the car. Once out of the car he grabbed you by the upper arm and started to walk you towards the house. You had no idea if he was trying to comfort you or if he was worried you were going to make a run for it.

"I'm sorry" You glanced up at him as he spoke and wondered if he was apologizing for how he spoke to you earlier, or if he was sorry he was leading you to your death. You told yourself that maybe it was for both.

Rufo pulled you towards the door and it opened to reveal an older man. Albert was stocky, with short grey hair and stood, dressed in a flannel shirt and blue jeans. The light from the open doorway cast shadows over the rest of his features hiding them from you. "Ah Cecil" He spoke in a friendly, familiar tone. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up or not." You turned to look at Rufo or Cecil or whatever his name really was as he snarled. "We ran into a few problems."

Albert chuckled and moved out of the way as Rufo pulled you into the house. "I would say so. A burned bar, a trail of bodies across the country, a gas station explosion, cops who's bodies were partially eaten. The same cops who, need I remind you, worked at the exact station printed on the side of the vehicle currently sitting in my driveway. What part of subtle and do not draw attention to yourself did you not understand?"

Rufo ground his teeth and you could see him struggling to control his temper. "She's here, alive, and I made it before the sun rose so how about you cut me some slack Albert." Albert scoffed before finally turning to you. His grey eyes traveled over your body as he took in your condition. You were used to men staring at you, but the way he looked at you.. it wasn't sexual at all, more like he was figuring out where to start cutting. "Well, I suppose you did meet the requirements in the allotted time. I knew there were risks involved and I planned for some extra.. collateral damage when I selected you for this task. Still, I doubt anyone else could have completed this job to my satisfaction. Well done Cecil, you continue to prove your worth." Rufo visibly relaxed. "Thank you Albert."

Albert nodded, his eyes finally found their way to your face and he smiled. It was a smile you assumed all grandfathers had. "Welcome my dear, my name is Albert Miles and I'm sure you have many questions. Before I answer them is there anything I can get you?" Swallowing the lump in your throat, you glanced at Rufo before you answered. "Bathroom" You had to lick your dry lips before you could continue, Rufo hadn't stopped for water or a bathroom break since the gas station. "May I please use your bathroom?" Albert directed you down the hallway and informed you that there was a first aid kit in the cabinet.

You relieved your bladder first, then washed the blood, sweat and old makeup from your face in the sink. After that, you patched the wound on your scalp as best you could with the supplies from the first aid kit. You were bruised, exhausted and barely recognized yourself in the mirror but still, you squared your shoulders and opened the bathroom door. You wanted answers and it was time to get them.

Following the sound of voices, you found Rufo and Albert in the study seated on either side of a large, wooden desk. They both turned to look at you and Rufo gestured towards the chair next to him. You took the offered seat and noticed a cup of hot chocolate on the desk in front of you. "Now, you are probably wondering why I've brought you here." You nodded at Albert as you picked up the cup and took a sip of the pleasantly warm liquid. "The short answer to that question is quite simple. I need your blood."

You stared at him over your cup as Rufo uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "Her blood? That's it? I could have just brought it to you instead of bringing her along!" Albert shot a look at Rufo and he shut his mouth. "Don't misunderstand my meaning. I need ALL of your blood and I need it to be fresh." You sat down your cup and opened your mouth before closing it again. "But.. why me? Why do you need my blood?" Albert leaned back in his seat and laced his fingers together. "What do you know of your mother?"

"My mother?" You shook your head. "Nothing... she gave me up for adoption as soon as I was born. I was raised by the state." Rufo turned his head and stared at you but you ignored him. Albert nodded. "This may come as a shock to you, but your ancestor on your mother's side was actually a very powerful succubus." "I knew it!" That time you did turn to look at Rufo and his smile quickly fell from his face.

"A succubus?" You stared at Albert with raised eyebrows. "Like a sex demon?" Albert nodded. "Yes, something like that. Although your powers have been dulled through the bloodline they are still there. Think about it. Your mother, too young to have a child but forced to give birth abandons you. You grow up seemingly always drawing the attention of men and are scorned for it. It's no wonder you chose your profession, I imagine the money was more than adequate for your lifestyle. Especially after engaging in sexual intercourse, that's when your powers are at their strongest." You wanted to argue with him, to tell him that was all impossible, but deep down it made sense. The desire for sex, the way you felt after.. even the way men responded to you. He was right.

You gripped the edge of the desk. "But... I still dont understand why you need all of my blood?" Albert held your gaze as he answered. "I need the blood to ink a new spell I've been working on. Your powers, however, are weak and dormant therefore I need a much higher volume." "But.." You looked up as tears formed in your eyes. A spell, you were going to die because he needed to write a spell. "But what if you take the blood, a little at a time until you have..." Albert shook his head and your heart fell. "No, I have to write it in one go, with fresh blood. That's just the way magic works my dear. I am sorry that you have to die." It seemed crazy, but he really did seem sincere. "Well, as long as you are sorry." You didn't try to hide the sarcasm from your voice as you turned away.

Rufo cleared his throat as he looked between you and Albert and you turned your attention back to him. "What if you woke up her powers first?" Albert raised his eyebrow and smirked at him. "Why Cecile, I'm shocked. I told you not to do it.." Rufo frowned behind the clown smile. "Just answer the question Albert, would that work?" Albert narrowed his eyes then shrugged. "In theory it would. But why in the world would I take the time?"

Your mouth dropped open as you stared at him. There was a way for you to survive this but he... he didn't want to take the time to do it? Albert ignored the look you gave him and continued to talk to Rufo. "Time is very important to me Cecil, you know this. I have a window but it is a very small window and I do not want to miss this opportunity." Rufo quickly looked at you from the corner of his eye. "What's it going to cost Albert?"

Albert smiled, almost like he had been waiting for that question and waved his hand. "Oh I don't know, if I awaken her powers I'll be obligated to teach her how to use them and that's just not something I want to deal with right now. Releasing a full powered succubus on the world without any training just seems... irresponsible."

"Irresponsible!" Rufo jumped up from his seat and glared down at Albert. "Irresponsible like leaving that book in that shitty little town by the weird lake?" Albert returned his glare but kept the smile on his face. "I've been alive a long time Cecil, I can't keep track of every single spellbook I've ever had."

Rufo started to pace in front of the desk. "Yeah? And what about that asylum huh? The hunter would have never become a threat again if you hadn't murdered all those babies and left their corpses in the basement! If it wasn't for the hunter, my family, that you are responsible for killing in the first place, would have had another chance at life!" Rufo was almost screaming and Albert's smile quickly dissapeared. "Those matters have already been amended Rufo, so sit down and lower your voice!" Rufo didn't sit down but he did stop pacing and stood in front of Albert. Albert fixed Rufo with a look that made you want to run and hide but Rufo didn't even flinch. "Have you been asking questions about me?"

Rufo held out one of his hands. "I kill people for you Albert. Sometimes they think if they give me unsavory information about my employer I'll go easy on them. I don't, but what kind of an amateur would I be if I let free information slip away?"

Albert chuckled and the tension seemed to ease from the room. Rufo returned to his seat and braced his hands on his knees. "Now, I'll ask again. What's it going to cost me to keep her alive?"

(Next part is the finale)

@booksdragonsdolls @pennytrash @trig-loves-clowning-around @witchyclowngirl @allkundsofwrong @float-me-to-the-moon @pinoflicious @rufotheclown @clumforme @vladsgirl @fugiecakes @claddypenny @sailor-purinsesu-moon @grotesquegabby

[charlyoddsox27]

its 6am, i havent slept, im bored, so im posting a list of the mercs in order of whom i like the most and reasons why, because thats something i should do i guess?

here goes

(spoilers for the comics down below but either way i think im the only person on earth who has never read them before now)

~~~

~~1. Medic~~

reasons for being my favourite:

• fucking. look. at. him. 👌

• 'mad german doctor' is one of my favourite tropes and he is a pretty bang-on satirical depiction of it

• cute-ass german accent

• he has pet pidgeons hE LOVES HIS PIDGEON PALS THEY KEEP HIM COMPANY

• healers are the most respectable class imo and since Medic pretty much started it he's automatically the best, thats how it works right?

• he sold some random persons soul to satan in exchange for a ***ballpoint pen*** and can i just say, fucking mood??? (he is literally the "i'd sell you to satan for one cornchip" meme)

• "yes, Archimedes...I couldn't agree more." *shudders* b oi .. .

• so many more reasons to love this gross old doctor so little room in Tumblrs posts.

~~2. Spy~~

reasons for being my second favourite:

• cranky, done with everyones shit, just wants to be left alone, fucking mood

• he's a spy i mean c'mon. look at the swanky-ass suit, look at the class radiating from this asshole.

• he may be a dick but he has a soft side he's just too jaded to show it most of the time (see: Scouts death in the comics?? real tears. honestly wish they'd panned that out more.)

• masks are hot tbFH--

• he enjoys a nice glass of whisky by the fireplace and so do i (fun fact: france is the biggest importer of scottish whisky in the world so its a nice touch)

• shapeshifting is fucking cool are you serious like he can just. do that. what a legend

• "i have a cyanide pill in one of my molars, if i break it then spit some in your mouth before i die, we can avoid being tortured." *'heavy' bursts in to save them* "PFFTHBTHF--"

• "SEDUCE ME."

• arrogant frenchman is one of my other favourite tropes and this is the most arrogant frenchman ive ever seen

• he's the only fully sane Merc, maybe apart from Engie.

• people love to hate him bc he's an asshole but...come on. after working with all those other weirdos for years, you'd be pretty jaded too.

• as a gross shipper, he's the easiest and the most fun (imo) to ship with Medic (rip me)

~~3. Pyro~~

reasons for being my third favourite:

• would have tied with Soldier if it werent for that one picture of them in the comics holding a puppy over their head with the most adoring expression on their mask??? good Pyro. goodest Pyro.

• doesn't do much in the comics but makes up for it in pure charm. look at that soulless face and tell me you dont love it.

• ambiguous gender ambiguous gender amBIGUOUS GENDER AMBIGUOUS GENDER. she/he/they? trans? nb? whatever you headcanon, it'll never be confirmed so its literally up to your own imagination. fucking ace, Valve 👌👌👌

• likes to burn things. god damnit. they like to burn things, guys. but they enjoy it so much, you just cant hate them, you can only feel a sympathetic joy that this precious lunatic is having fun in their own little world.

• canonically mentally ill (schizoprenia? it could be hallucinogenic drugs but i like to think its schizophrenia.)

• pretty sure they burned a pair of pedophiles in the comics. at least i think thats what those panels were insinuating. "lets open an orphanage and have an endless supply of kids to--" sounds pretty red-flaggy to me tbh. plus they were the villains so, eh?

• bludgeoned a bear to death until its skull was pulp because it insulted their special interest. you go, Pyro.

• for a few bits in the comics they have a really cute family dynamic going on with other Mercs, Soldier for example."Miss Pauling, Pyros on my side of the car." "Miss Pauling, Pyro cut off my hand." fuckin' cuties.

• when they start putting on like 50 shirts to keep warm in the Russian mountains. chubby.

• a gas mask that can function as both badass, and completely adorable.

• just. everything about them. how could you not love them. they're not in the wrong, you are. stay away from my misunderstood child and let them burn things god damnit.

~~4. Soldier~~

look I'm sorry, I love Soldier and he was gonna be tied with Pyro but that fucking puppy drawing sold me.

• absolute gold every second he speaks. he could sneeze and i'll laugh.

• such a dumbass you cant get annoyed at him for it. like. just agree with him and move on. no point reasoning with a boulder. "haha! silly Miss Pauling, thinking theres different types of blood." Medic: "haha yes! indeed, silly."

• HUTTAH *NECK SNAP*

• i'm not American and even i can see how blatantly his character mocks stereotypical Patriotic Americans™. but its so dumb and laughable, its adorable.

• EVERYTHING ABOUT HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH ZHANNA IS A BLESSING. EVERYTHING.

• the first "meet the Mercs" video i ever saw was "meet the Soldier" so he holds a special place in my heart

• (preaches about experiencing the horrors of war; has never actually been to war. shh dont tell anyone though--) *neck gets snapped*

~~5. Demoman~~

• I'm Scottish. even though his accent is absolute garbage (no offense to the VA), any representation is very nice.

• Black AND Scottish?? i mean has a character like that even existed before TF2??? amazing example of representation right there. there are barely even any black people in Scotland, how did this happen. I love it. more of this, please.

• he's a drunk guy who blows shit up for shits and giggles and god I wish I could too, sounds like a miracle stress-reliever.

• his sassy black scottish mother. combining the stereotypical black mother with the stereotypical scottish mother is literally the best thing that ever happened.

• the bit in the comic where Medic explains that Demo can't remember what happened to his eye bc he scooped out part of his brain, and the look on Demo's face. just. the look.

• again, he's scottish, he's stereotypical, and he's awesome.

~~6. Sniper~~

• underrated

• piss jars. piss jars everywhere.

• "no dad, im not a crazed murdering lunatic, I'm an assassin. ...well one's a job and the other's mental sickness!!"

• "meet the Sniper" has kickass music

• ruffled gross old man who isn't actually old, he's just seen some SHIT

• actually given development in the comics + some really good scenes with Spy.

• so suave...so...handsome. handsome ruffled bushman. me like.

• he dies first in the comics but gets brought back and gets a cool-ass scar. and then he's just walking around naked everywhere for the rest of the comic. Medic, where the fuck did you put his clothes.

• isn't actually Australian. thats like one of the biggest twists in the comic. "no wonder i was never inhumanly strong and my chest hair didn't grow into the shape of Australia!!" Classic.

• says "bugger" a lot and i love that word

• he needs a hug, let me hug him. and give him a bath.

~~7. Heavy~~

I'm gonna be crucified for putting the big lad so low but i promise i dont dislike any of the Mercs. he'd be higher up but...ive never really liked big huge tank-men tbh :/

• loveable as fuck

• will murder you if you bully his puny little Medic

• i looove Russian accents omfg

• he like big gun. i can respect that.

• when Medic was killed and he went APESHIT on Classic!Heavy and I lost my fuckin' mind over that shit

• he probably has a soft spot for small cute animals. i love imagining him being swarmed by Medics flock of doves and petting them like "good bird...so many good bird..."

• actually smarter than people give him credit for???

• i really really wish his character was a lil more fleshed out but. that's just me. i love him but he doesn't have the same appeal to me as Medic or Spy.

• his entire relationship with Medic...ugh. yes. best friends and/or boyfriends. all good to me 👌

• he named his gun Sasha and that's adorable

~~8. Engineer~~

• gOD, FUCK, I REALLY WISH HE DID MORE IN THE COMICS. i barely know anything about his character. i like him a lot but...god, he...he doesn't...do.....anything.......

• he built a cool robot arm for himself and AI turrets and teleporter machines and guns that fire magic healing powers and immortality machines, in the 1960s. what. some kind of wizard fuckery is this.

• smoothest voice in the west

• "y'all"

~~9. Scout~~

oh god i really am gonna be crucified. i dont hate him i just. like him the least.

• shitboy

• reminds me of a shitty ex but also kinda relateable in a way

• some genuinely funny bits in the shorts.

• gross horny hetero teen boy with a god complex and serious daddy issues. also, he can't read. the "sex bom" tattoo on his chest will be an eternal testament to that. nice job, Spy. you raised him good.

~~~

hoo boy there we go theres all the boys, all the beautiful boys (and Scout) in order of how much i love them. if i made any errors in my info about the canon, feel free to send me death threats 💙 (no seriously tell me though, being a newbie is embarrassing)

so uh. yeah. that took two hours to write. its now 8am. im still bored lol. bye i guess.

[sexxxlovemusic-blog]

Screaming.....

I really dont understand what is going through my head, because it's seriously nothing.... at all!! yet I feel like I want to cry all the time. And I come home to your arms and it all goes away. I'm going to start these stupid pills again, maybe if they make me sick my mind will understand that I'm okay and dont need them or something so I can stop having this constant war in my head. Fuck I have such a headache.... and all I want is the day to be over so I can fall asleep in your arms, even though I just woke up not to long ago.....

I just want it all to be over in my head. I wish help was more affordable. I could probably really use someone to talk to so I can get over everything from my past. I just want to be completely happy. I want my mind to just stop putting me in a dark place even though nothing is currently wrong. Everything is amazing right now, I live on my own with my one and only true love, I have a family and a job and a couple friends I can count on but dont see often enough... Yet i guess i just dont feel good enough to be a part of it all.. my mind makes me feel like a waste of space or waste of time.....

The other day I got a flower from my man, as I look at it now I feel happier and I know for a fact I am loved. And.... like I said.... everything is fine! So, why does my head hurt and not feel fine? I want it to go away!!!! I want to lift this darkness off my shoulders and just watch it disappear forever. Hmmm... maybe I've got like..... a personality disorder or some shit like that. My mind seriously takes me out of anything and just sticks me in a hole of bad and horrible things. And I can be perfectly fine the next day. And just keep jumping in and out of this hole multiple times through the week........ And I feel like I'd bother anyone if I say another word about not being happy when I truly have nothing to complain about....

So here is my rant of nothingness. Meh.... I know I reminisce about the past a little to much, yeah I miss my past friends and wish I could go back for some things to keep..... like my mom for sure is the biggest one.... And there is a big reason why these "friends" aren't in my life anymore and I just need to move on... I know that's not a healthy thing to do and I just need to keep looking at my future and stop turning back...... But my future scares me, I dont know where I'm going to end up, or how bad im going to mess up, if im going to end up with a cute family of my own, or if my kids are going to hate me, or if im even going to have kids........

Will I end up alone and be grumpy like my dad? Or will I end up traveling the world like I dream of doing and have the brightest of days? Or will life get the best of me at a young age like my mom....... It's so scary to think about.

I hate not knowing... And living in the moment is kinda a drag for me, doing the same thing every day, work, sleep, eat, clean, have sex once in a while, the most amazing sex I've ever had. Haha! But, yeah, idk, mostly the same things every day. Maybe I should get into drawing again. Or writing even... even though i am not good at them in any way shape or form. Haha. There's a reason why i almost failed every class i took ever. I want to see something new, go somewhere i haven't been.

Maybe this vacation next week, instead of going somewhere that'll make me sad, maybe we can go to something new. Granted, this place that makes me sad, it also has some of the best memories, it's my childhood, it's my family, its.......not there anymore.......

And now I'm crying...... oh how I wish it was still there..... How I wish my family reunions were still there, how I wish my man could meet all the people who are now gone forever....... The people who I truly loved most, the ones my dad got alone with, my dad doesn't like who's left as much as the ones who are gone.... I'm not close with the family that I have now. I'm the outcast and I know at least a couple who might be judging me for my decisions.... And all the people that are gone were the outcasts too...... my mom, the gay uncle who gave us the best times at the park, my.... great aunt?? I cant remember, but she was so sweet and lovable and cute and always took care of me when I fell as a kid, when she was gone, the house was gone thanks to her nasty daughter...... Then there's all the others who taught me how to play golf which is the closest thing I now have with my dad...... I'm pretty sure every single one is gone now......

I haven't seen any of them in I think over 10 years now..... sigh....... I wish I could go back and just see them all once more and give them all the biggest hug, I was just a kid back then and never got to tell them all goodbye....... I wish I could walk through our house again, play slapjack in the living room and watch the old VHS movies I'd bring every year...... I wish we could go looking for arrowheads again, and pet the horses or play horseshoes even..... listen to the heavy rains in the trailer. Or be huddled up close to everyone in the house as it hailed..... Listen to my grandpas stories again and pay better attention to them, I was the stupid child who always had headphones in while in the car so I didn't listen........or I wish I could play poker with him and my cousins again... I need to go visit him and grandma soon...... He can hardly talk or walk anymore so his stories are all with him now..... God damn.......

......There's just so much, my family was big and I took it for granted, I thought I'd have so much more time, and now it's not so much and it's going to be separated even more...... I just feel like I didn't get enough time with anyone...... I didn't get as many hugs as I wanted. And I know they are gone and there is nothing I can do.... but I wish there was...... just for a split moment even...... its just to hard for me not to think about them all...... I miss it all so much..... They need to come back.....

So hey..... that's where my head is..... I can probably keep going but this post is already long enough...... I am totally fine in the moment, but my past and my future have me in a turmoil in my mind.... there is to much I wish I could have back.... And to be with them again requires death, which I'm not quite ready for.....

I am pretty, I am strong, and everything is fine in the moment.... for the most part.. I'm gonna go cry for a while before work, then I'll pretend like I'm okay and put that fake smile on my face for the hours I am there. Then who knows..... Come home and cry some more in your arms. Or maybe I'll be okay, we shall see I guess...

I'm sorry this is such a long post. But I just needed to post something. And.... well.... this is it..... Thanks....

[sapphicwomanwithnopatience]

just gonna answer these cus im a little bored and procrastinating on my job

65 Questions You Aren't Used To

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? - no, we are all very real

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? - maybe a two. things do exist in the dark.

3. The person you would never want to meet? - trump... ill probably get sent to jail if you put me within reach of that man

4. What is your favorite word? - “as” its a beautiful structure for metaphors

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? - maybe ash. not very unique, not very standoffish, but one of strongest and most reliable forms of wood

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? - my hair got fucked up while i slept it was a little surprising

7. What shirt are you wearing? - red pullover

8. What do you label yourself as? - a demon

9. Bright room or dark room? - dark

10. What were you doing at midnight last night? - watching inkmaster

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? - i dont have one

12. Who told you they loved you last? - my mom

13. Your worst enemy? - societal expectation

14. What is your current desktop picture? - hyyh bts

15. Do you like someone? - no

16. The last song you listened to? - butter

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? - nobody? killing people isnt all that

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? - currently? that one mf in texas yall know who

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? - um? what

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional) - my eyes. ive been told theyre bottomless.

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? - id be hot. not really too interested in leading a life that isnt my own. id probably look in the mirror a little bit and then just about my day?

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? - im sort of a all-kill when it comes to art. i can hold my own in painting, drawing, music production, singing, writing, directing and envisioning. so i guess artistic prowess? idk im a biologist so its not common in my field.

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? -im not afraid of much.

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. -cubano

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? - im depositing it in the bank

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? -id love to say some place in asia but logically since i only speak spanish and english ill be going puerto rico

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? -michelob ultra. ik ik beer is gross blah blah idc i consume beer much faster than other alcohol and its refreshing so ill go with that

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? - mandatory therapy

29. What is your favorite expletive? - cunt (im not british)

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? - laptop

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? - petition to let me erase more than one. its all or none erased, because all my experiences defined me. id need all of them or i wouldnt be me. if were erasing, get rid of it all.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! -this is not a question

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? - i see ghosts and i dont want them back. death happens when its necessary. dont cheat that. 

34. What was your last dream about? - i dont remember but i know it happened

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]? - i am a good

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? - yeah i broke my wrist once

37. Have you ever built a snowman? - no

38. What is the color of your socks? - not wearing ones rn but usually black

39. What type of music do you like? - anything but misogynist country

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? - sunset

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? - cookies and cream

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer) - real madrid

43. Do you have any scars? - many

44. What do you want to be when you graduate? - research scientist

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? - less migraines

46. Are you reliable? - yes

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? - you processed all that trauma yet?

48. Do you hold grudges? - depends on the offense

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? - i wouldnt

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? - someone asked me if id let them snort xanax out of my asshole

51. Are you a good liar? - great, actually

52. How long could you go without talking? - havent tested this but a long time

53. What has been you worst haircut/style? - bangs, not because i looked bad but because curly hair and bangs dont always mix

54. Have you ever baked your own cake? - all the time

55. Can you do any accents other than your own? - im decent at a british one

56. What do you like on your toast? - i dont eat toast

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of? - a succulent

58. What would be you dream car? - mercedez benz 1982 300D in yellow

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. - i sing and dance in the shower

60. Do you believe in aliens? -youd be dumb not to

61. Do you often read your horoscope? - not really

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? - dont have one

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons? - i dont exactly think either are cool. 

64. What do you think about babies? - hatred.

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of. - ?