#my dads stories are always like ‘I almost beat a creep to death in front of my sister’s apartment’ and

[badolmen]

Was talking with my mother the other day about the Boeing Whistleblower’s murder being framed as a suicide and she casually drops that the same thing happened to one of the union leaders my dad worked with. Would go on Facebook with a puppet account and a bag over his head documenting the company’s various legal violations. Two weeks before his daughter’s wedding he kills himself. Nobody believed that - he was happily married, healthy, and financially secure with no prior indications of depression or mood swings. But it was still ruled a suicide and everyone just…moved on I guess?

Like, I understand the Boeing whistleblower, but some random utilities union guy? Jfc he gets offed for bad mouthing the company and what we just go on with our lives? How are you not radicalized by this???

[americasass91]

Healing Ransom

Hello beautiful people!! This will be my first (I’m sure of many) submissions for @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ amazing Autumn Challenge! Fall is my favorite time of the year! It’s got beautiful colors! Pumpkin everything! And Halloween? You just can’t beat it! I hope you enjoy this little story. It stars our one and only Mean Sweater Murder Daddy, Ransom!

Verbal Prompts:

“Please don’t be sad for me.”

“Shove it, satan.”

Location/activity prompts:

Walking through a park with leaves

Jumping in/raking leaves

Words: 3.8k

Rating: Explicit(of course it is😋)

Warnings: smut, Ransom being his usual dickish self, slight angst, death of minor character, funerals, sadness, language

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You had only been asleep for about an hour and a half when you were abruptly woken up by a cell phone vibrating loudly.

You open one eye and look towards the nightstand your phone is on. It’s silent. That means it’s his phone.

You smack your fuck buddy on the back of the head. “Ow, Y/N what the actual fuck?”

You turn over and pull the covers higher up on your naked body. “Your phone’s ringing asshole.”

He mumbles something under his breath you don’t quite catch as he reaches for his phone. “It’s Linda. Ugh she’s probably drunk again and calling to tell me how worthless I am. Fuck her.”

He throws the phone down on the bed and gets comfortable. “And why are you still here? You know how I feel about you spending the night.”

You raise your hand and flip him off. “You’re the one that fucked me into submission. I can’t help it that I fell asleep right after. Don’t worry, your highness, I’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning.”

He’s about to reply when his phone starts vibrating right against your ass. You shriek and sit up and grab the phone.

Before Ransom even comprehends that you have it, you answer.

“Hello, Linda. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to Ransom please.” She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears.

You hand the phone to Ransom who looks at you incredulously. “Just take it. She sounds upset.”

He just rolls his eyes and snatches the phone from you. “Mother, why in the fuck are you calling me at 3 in the morning?”

You’re not entirely sure what she’s saying but Ransom went from being annoyed to showing no emotion on his face.

“When?...Who found him?...Okay..well, thanks for letting me know.” He hangs up and throws the phone back onto the nightstand.

He’s silent for a few minutes. He looks over at your questioning stare.

“My father died. Heart attack. His maid found him. Guess he’d been there for awhile.”

You immediately go to pull him into a hug. “Oh, Ransom. I’m so sorry.”

He pushes you away. “Please don’t be sad for me. He was a piece of shit who smoked like a chimney and never took care of himself. It was just a matter of time before something liked this happened.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “But he was your dad, Ransom. It’s okay to be sad about it.” You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

He grabs your hand and yanks you onto his lap. “I’m not sad. I don’t actually feel anything. It’s not like we had any kind of a relationship. Now how about since we’re both awake we go for round 5?”

You just roll your eyes and let him take your body to euphoria once more.

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That following Saturday you wake up to the sight of beautiful changing leaves. God you love Fall. It was the best time of the year in your opinion. Pumpkin everything? Yes please! Halloween? Oh, fuck yeah! Your favorite holiday.

You decide you can’t let this beauty go to waste. You throw back the covers and quickly dress in some leggings and a burgundy sweater you’re pretty sure belongs to Ransom.

You can’t help but admire all the beautiful Fall colors as you begin your walk. You don’t even need music right now. You feel so at peace during this particular morning. All the beautiful colors. The slight chill in the air. The smell of cider someone is selling from a cart up the way. You’re definitely going to have to get some of that.

You spot a pile of leaves on your way to the cart and you have the strongest urge to run and jump in them. You stop walking and look around. You’re alone. Fuck it.

You take off and giggle like a little girl again as you launch yourself at the pile of leaves. You lose yourself in them. Forgetting everything for a moment and just enjoying the freeing feeling. You’re enjoying it so much you almost miss your phone vibrating in your pocket.

You sit up and fish it out to see who’s interrupting your childlike moment. Ransom. You roll your eyes. The only time he calls you is when he wants sex. You’re just going to have to tell him you’re too busy at the moment.

You answer and put the phone to your ear as you lay back amongst the leaves. “Ransom, I cannot come over for some fuckery right now. I’m in my happy place.”

“Y/N. Hey. That’s not why I’m calling. Linda just called to let me know the funeral is tomorrow. I was wondering if you’d go with me?”

He doesn’t sound like himself. Sad almost. “Sure, Ran. Of course I’ll be there. Just let me know what time.”

“Visitation is from 2-4. The funeral starts right after. Then of course we’ll go bury him. Sorry your whole day will be full. I know how much you love your weekends.”

You shake your head and wave your hand in the air as if he can see it. “Ransom, don’t worry about that. This is more important. And besides, Monday is Columbus Day so I have an extra day off.”

“So that means you’ll be able to spend the night with me tomorrow night?”

You feel butterflies in your stomach. He’s never asked you to spend the night.

“Well, sure if that’s what you want.”

“Thanks, I’ll need to fuck all of my frustrations out from being around my family all day.”

Ah, there’s the ulterior motive. You feel your heart sink a little. “Yeah, sure. How about I’ll just come to your place tomorrow around 1 and we can head over to the funeral together?”

“Sure, sure. Look I have to go. I have to try to get this chapter written today. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course. Good luck with the chapter.”

“Oh and Y/N? Have fun playing in the leaves.”

With that he hangs up. You look around to make sure he’s nowhere around. How did he know you were in a pile of leaves?

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You head into the funeral with Ransom at around 1:45. Despite everything you can’t help but notice he looks handsome in his dark blue suit.

“God I hate funerals.” He says as he gazes around the room. He spots Linda.

“Well, who likes them?” You ask him as she approaches.

She throws her arms around Ransom’s neck. He reluctantly returns the hug.

“Oh, Ransom! I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

Ransom just rolls his eyes as he looks at you. He mouths ‘Help me’

You put your hand on Linda’s back. “Oh, Linda. I’m so sorry he’s gone.”

She lets go of Ransom and turns towards you. “Thank you dear. Even though he wasn’t my husband anymore I still loved him. A part of me always will.”

You glance over at Ransom who’s trying to avoid Walt that just walked in. You can’t help but know how she feels about loving someone like that. You love Ransom no matter what the 2 of you are. You think you always will.

You nod your head. “Of course you will. He was a big part of your life. And he’s Ransom's dad. He’ll always have a special place in your heart.”

She pulls you in for a hug. When she pulls back she cups your cheek. “I’m well aware that you’re too good for my son. But please don’t leave him. He can’t do any better than you.”

With that she heads over to greet more people filing in. You stand there shocked at her words. Linda has never been unpleasant towards you but that was the nicest damn thing she’s ever said to you.

You spot Ransom leaning against the opposite wall as far away from the other people as he can get.

You head over and stop in front of him with your arms crossed. “Ransom, aren’t you supposed to be talking to your family? Letting people give their condolences.”

“Fuck these people, Y/N. None of them gave a shit about Richard. I bet half of the women in this room fucked him at one point.”

You look around wide eyed to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Luckily they weren’t. “Jesus, Ransom be quiet! This is a funeral. And unlike you, some people are here to grieve!”

“Whatever, Y/N! You’re such a bitch. You didn’t like him either! You always called him a creep! So don’t stand there and act live you give a shit that he’s dead!”

Your mouth drops open. God he’s such an asshole! “You know what, fuck you Ransom! I do give a shit! Just because I thought he was a creep doesn’t mean I wanted him to die! I understand you’re grieving right now but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit. Maybe you should find somebody else to fuck out your frustrations on!”

By now the whole room is looking at you 2. You didn’t mean to be so loud but god dammit did he piss you off.

“You know what, Y/N? Maybe I will! Fuck off!”

He pushes away from the wall and stomps towards the door. “SHOVE IT, SATAN!” You can’t help but yell after him. You then take a look around the room and see everyone staring at you. “Sorry about that.” You quickly leave the room and head towards the kitchen area. You hear footsteps behind you. You turn around and see Meg following you.

“Y/N? Are you okay? God he is such a piece of shit.” She pulls you in for a hug,

You return it gratefully. “Thanks but I’m just worried about Linda. She’s already upset and I am certainly not making things any easier.”

She scoffs as she pulls away from you. “Oh, please! She was chuckling when you called him satan. Said it was an accurate name for him.”

You smile at her feeling relieved. “That’s good then. How are you holding up?”

She returns your smile. “I’m okay. Uncle Richard and I didn’t have a close relationship but I’ll still miss our debates we had.”

You nod in understanding. “I guess I should go find satan.”

Before you have a chance to leave the kitchen, Ransom comes in. He comes over and pulls you in for a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just don’t want to be here and I’m sick of these people pretending to grieve when I know they don’t care and I took my anger out on you. You were nice enough to be here with me today, you don’t deserve how I treated you.”

Your heart skips a beat. He never apologizes for anything. You pull away from the hug and cup his cheek. “It’s okay. Apology accepted. You get a free pass today. Now how about we head back in?”

He grabs your wrist and places a kiss on your palm. “Okay, will you stay by me?”

You pull him in for a quick peck. “Of course, I’m not going anywhere.”

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The funeral was tastefully done. Ransom refused to ride over in the limo with the rest of the family. He said he wanted to drive over with you.

You pull into the cemetery and get out of the car. You look around for the gravesite. You don’t see one. “Ran, where’s the gravesite?”

Ransom just chuckles and points at the hill. “On the top of the hill. He wanted to be buried in the most expensive spot.”

You look down at your black pumps and then over at the slightly muddy hill. Well this should be fun.

Ransom sees your hesitation. “There’s a brick pathway. Your shoes are safe.”

You sigh in relief. Thank god. You follow the crowd that has now gathered toward the path. Ransom follows in step beside you. He grabs your hand and laces your fingers together. You feel those stupid butterflies in your stomach again.

You can’t help but admire the beautiful fall foliage. It puts a smile on your face despite the sad day.

Ransom rolls his eyes playfully at you. “You and your Fall.”

“It’s beautiful, Ransom! How can you not love it?”

You’re too busy looking at all the leaves to notice him staring at you. “Yeah, it is beautiful.”

You reach the gravesite and stand with Ransom near the front. He still hasn’t let go of your hand. If anything he’s holding onto it tighter.

You can’t help but let some tears fall as the minister says some more beautiful words. You chance a glance at Ransom and you see him wipe a single tear from his face. That makes you give his hand a reaffirming squeeze.

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Ransom wasn’t lying when he said he was going to fuck out his frustrations on you. He took you right against the wall as soon as you walked into his house. Then again on the island in the kitchen. And again on the stairs. (You’re sure to have bruises from that escapade). Finally finishing in his bed. You passed out almost right after the last one.

You woke up around 2 am with the urge to pee. You look over and see Ransom’s side of the bed empty. He must be downstairs rehydrating after all that fucking. You decide to quickly pee and then head down to find him.

He’s not in the kitchen like you thought. You’re about to go check his study to see if he’s up writing when you see a light on in the living room. You head in and see him sitting on the couch. His back is to you so he hasn’t realized you’re in the room yet. There’s something sitting on his coffee table. You move forward quietly trying not to disturb him in case he wants to be alone.

When you get close enough you see that it’s a framed picture of him and his dad. Ransom can’t be older than 16. They have their arms around each other’s shoulders. His prized Beemer is in the background with a big red bow on top.

That’s when you hear the sniffling. You quickly round the couch and see that Ransom is clutching a pillow and sobbing into it. You take a seat next to him. You put a comforting hand on his back and rub it up and down in a soothing manner.

He looks up at you, tears covering his cheeks. “You know I think this is the only picture I have of me and my dad. I think he was happier than me that day. He was so proud to pass his car down to me.”

You just smile sadly and pull him in for a hug. He throws the pillow away and pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. You gently wipe away his tears with your thumbs. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I never even knew him, Y/N. And now I’m never gonna get the chance to.” He buries his face into the crook of your neck and tightens his arms around your waist. He starts sobbing again.

You rub one hand up and down his back and run your other through his hair. “Shhh, Ransom. I know you’re hurting. I’m so sorry you lost him.”

“I fucking hate this, Y/N! I hate feeling like this. So helpless. And he fucking died alone. That’s gonna be me. I don’t want to die alone.” He looks up at you so innocently. So heartbroken.

You grab his face with both hands. “Hugh Ransom Drysdale, you’re not going to die alone. If you’re that afraid of it then change your ways.”

He lowers his eyes towards his hands that are resting on your hips. “I just hate feeling this way. I didn’t even know him. Why am I so fucking sad?” He looks back up at you.

“Because you didn’t know him and you’re regretting that. It’s too late to do anything about it now. Unfortunately you’re just going to have to deal with it and grieve. Doesn’t mean you can’t change your other relationships though. So you don’t feel like this ever again.”

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in just enough until your lips are touching. “It hurts so much, Y/N. Please help me forget. Even for just a little bit. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” He pulls you in for a fierce kiss, enough to take your breath away.

After you gain back some control you push against his chest. “Ransom, I don’t think this is the best way-”

“Please,Y/N? Please take the pain away.”

Your heart breaks. You look him in the eye and nod your head. He pulls you back in for another heated kiss. If this was the only way you could take away his pain, even if temporary, you’ll give it to him.

You put your hands in his hair and give it a tug making him groan. One of his hands moves to your ass, making you grind against his growing erection. The other remains on the back of your neck, not letting you break the kiss. He needs you close right now.

He pulls back from the kiss. “Need you, baby. Please.”

You quickly stand up to remove your pajama shorts and panties while he lowers his sweats just enough to free himself. You straddle him again and stroke his length up and down a few times, smearing his pre-cum all over. You guide him to your entrance and sink down on him. “Fuck, Ransom. Always feels so good.”

You give yourself a few minutes to adjust once your hips are flush against his. He settles his hands on your waist while yours rest on his shoulders. You lean in for a kiss before you start moving up and down on him. Moving at the hard and fast pace you know he always prefers.

“Wait, baby, slow down.” He grips your hips to stop your movements. You look at him confused. He always likes it hard and fast. He tightens his hold on your hips and starts grinding you on him. “Just need to feel you, Y/N. Can we slow down?”

Your heart flutters. “Of course.” You take over and start grinding against him. Keeping a slow rhythm. You throw your head back and moan. God he feels amazing. You can feel every part of him like this. Usually he’s going so fast you don’t get to appreciate the feeling of him dragging along your walls like this. This isn’t about reaching orgasm. This is intimacy. This is about feelings.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck. “You feel so good, baby. You take me so well. Like you were made for me. Made to fit me. My beautiful Y/N.”

You can feel tears well up in your eyes. You know this might not feel the same for him but it’s making you fall even more in love with him than what you already were.

You're not going to last long. Not only are your emotions getting the best of you but your clit is rubbing deliciously against his pelvis. He can feel you fluttering on his cock.

He pulls back and looks at you. “Gonna come for me pretty girl? I can feel you. You’re squeezing me so good. Let go, Y/N. I’m right behind you.”

You fall apart at his words. His name is a whisper on your lips. He buries his face back into the crook of your neck as he meets his end with a groan. Filling you up with everything he has.

You both stay like that for a minute. Just holding each other like you were afraid the other would disappear. He pulls back and looks at you again. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and smiles softly at you. “I love you, Y/N. God I love you so fucking much.”

You feel tears fall down your face. “I love you too, Ransom. Always have and always will. I won’t let you die alone.”

He pulls you in for another kiss. “No more of this fuck buddy stuff. I’m in this for real. For the long haul. I can’t feel like this ever again. I can live with how I feel about my dad. But you? I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try.”

“We’re talking about a relationship here Ransom. The exact thing you always said you didn’t want. What if it doesn’t work out? What if you change your mind?”

“It will work out, I’ll make sure it does. I won’t be changing my mind. You’re it for me.  But if for some reason you decide I’m not what you want, then at least I can say I tried. I’m willing to regret you for the rest of my life.”

You melt at his words. This is all you’ve ever wanted. For him to love you. Why the fuck were you questioning it?

You lean back in for another kiss. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

You lean in for another kiss. “Okay. But I’m exhausted. Can you take me to bed now?”

He chuckles and stands you both up. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get you to bed.”

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You wake up the next morning with the biggest smile on your face. Not only did Ransom confess his love for you last night but it was the most beautiful Fall day outside. You wondered if you could convince him to go for a walk with you.

The smell of coffee hits your nose and you quickly throw back the covers to head downstairs. As you turn to head into the kitchen you find Ransom. He’s dialing a number on his phone. His back is to you.

Curious, you stay behind for a minute to see who he’s calling.

“Hello, Mom? Hi. How are you?...Good….Yeah she’s here, she’s upstairs sleeping. I know, I’m not gonna let her go. Hey listen I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me today, just us?”

You can’t help the big smile that spreads across your face. Maybe Ransom was changing after all.

All Cevans characters taglist: @stargazingfangirl18​

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied (2)

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: Hello, angels!!! Here is part two... As always, let me know what you think! Part three is almost done and will be out next Sunday at 8pm. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter

“You’re practically jail bait for these men, do you understand?”

“I’m 21, not 18,” Sadie protested. It was 9 p.m. on a Friday night and you were standing outside Josh’s apartment dressed for a night out. You were reading her the riot act, knowing damn well that it was probably going in one ear and out the other.

“21 is young enough,” you argued. She rolled her eyes as you continued. “If you can’t find me while we’re out, look for Josh. Or Seth. Or Boone.”

“YN, everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I really hope so.”

The entire week leading up to Sadie’s arrival was stressful to say the least. You had to childproof your entire life just to have a problem free weekend with her, and that included childproofing the boys too.

Because Josh had met Sadie plenty of times before, he was more than happy to have everyone over his house for pre-drinks. It took a weight off your shoulders because being in an enclosed space with your closest friends meant it would be easier to keep tabs on how much alcohol she was consuming. And the more people she met before hitting the club meant there were more people keeping an eye out for her, and you need all eyes on her. 

Well, almost all of them. You could do without Pierre’s.

Josh’s apartment was already loud when you arrived, which came as no surprise considering about half the Blue Jackets were inside. When you entered, Sadie gazed around at his apartment like a kid in a candy story.

“This is where Josh lives?”

“This is what a cushy job gets you in Columbus.”

“Why didn’t Mom and Dad force us to become athletes?”

You ventured into the living room and were greeted by an assortment of hoots and hollers. Josh swept Sadie up in a big hug before introducing her to the rest of the boys and some girlfriends in a pretty general introduction. Seth slipped a beer into your hand with a knowing smile that screamed, “I got you. Stop stressing.”

Pierre wasn’t there and you were naive enough to think he might’ve passed on a night out, but then the front door swung open and he was sauntering in with a rack of beers in his hand. Sadie’s eyes cut to yours as he made his rounds to say hello.

When he reached her, he came up short. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the all too familiar facial features.

“You’re YN’s sister,” he spoke. “I’m assuming you already hate me.”

“More or less.”

“I’ll have fun trying to prove you wrong tonight then.”

He stepped away from her and said hello to the remaining few before completely ignoring you and slipping into the kitchen to put his beers in the fridge.

---

The executive decision was made to leave Josh’s apartment around 9:30 p.m., so while you ran off to the bathroom to get ready to go, Sadie flitted off to the kitchen for one final drink. Pierre did the same. When he entered, she was standing in front of the liquor, studying each bottle.

She didn’t even spare him a glance, having clocked him through her peripheral vision and deciding not to engage. He opened the fridge and reached in to receive a new bottle.

“You go to Ohio State, right?” he asked after popping the cap off.

She looked uncertain of him when he asked, but responded, “Yeah, I do.”

“You’re in the,” he paused, thinking for a moment about her class placement, “third year?”

“Yep.”

“How do you like it?” he asked, cocking his hip against the counter. He watched as Sadie poured herself another drink. She sipped it for taste, then added a little more Vodka. “I always got a little jealous of my friends who got to go to school.”

“It’s great,” she answered. “But I don’t think you’re missing out. If you make anything close to what Josh does, I should be jealous of you.” He chuckled softly, lifting the mouth of the bottle to his lips for a swig. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you do to my sister?”

He placed the bottle on the counter beside him, fingers swiping along the condensation settling against the label.

“I didn’t make the best first impression and she never gave me the chance to right that wrong,” he answered honestly. “It’s all good, though. I don’t need her to like me.”

Sadie caught the uneasy shift of his eyes from hers to the bottle beside him and decided that he had a shit poker face. 

“She’s a tough cookie sometimes,” she murmured. He nodded in agreement, eyebrows nearly raised to his hairline. 

“She’s determined, I’ll give her that,” he huffed, shaking his head to himself and taking another sip of beer. 

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t like me the first five years I was alive, so don’t worry, maybe you’ll win her over,” Sadie shrugged, giving Pierre a knowing look that he tried to ignore. If he was going to go around spilling secrets to anyone the last person he would choose was your little sister.

“Crazier things have happened, right?”

“Sure,” she said softly. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment like she was trying to decipher what he wasn’t saying. Pierre felt uncomfortable under her gaze, lifting his beer bottle to her and slipping out of the kitchen before she could make him sweat anymore than she already had. 

---

As soon as you walked into the club, you threw an arm over Sadie’s shoulder and led her to the bar. Josh and Pierre followed a few steps behind you as the rest of the group left to grab a table. Sadie’s eyes lit up as she studied every bit of the place you all frequented, overjoyed to finally be a part of your Columbus crew.

Sadie propped herself up onto one of the barstools at the bar and you stood beside her to wave down the bartender at the other end. Behind you, Josh and Pierre waited, deep in conversation about something to do with the team.

The bartender was quick to attend to your needs, dropping your drinks off swiftly before moving on to the next group of patrons.

You were busy surveying the land for potential suitors for the evening, not exactly sure if you wanted to end up in Charlie’s bed again or not. For some reason you were finding it hard to take interest in any of the men mingling around the bar with Pierre’s cologne overwhelming your senses as he stood just a few feet behind you. 

Sadie seemed to have no interest in the men that were hanging around the bar, which made you feel better at first. That is, until you realized she was eyeing up Pierre and then shifting her gaze back to you. She was up to something, that was never a good sign. 

“His name matches his face,” Sadie spoke after glancing at Pierre over your shoulder.

“What does that even mean?”

“He’s fucking hot!” she exclaimed. Her voice carried and while you choked on your drink in front of her, Pierre choked on his own in front of Josh.

“You heard that?” Josh asked him with an amused smile. He nodded slowly, desperately trying to push her words out of his mind. “YN’s blood is probably boiling.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to be castrated by the end of the night.”

“It was nice knowing you, buddy,” Josh teased. 

As you and Sadie stepped away from the bar, Josh grabbed your sister and pulled her into his side. Left in their wake, Pierre fell into step with you. 

“You talk about me to your little sister?”

“Only to tell her how insufferable you are,” you informed him. He grinned, like he always did, like he was one step ahead of you. “Whatever she said to you, don’t believe. She’s a liar.”

“So, she was lying when she said I’m fucking hot?”

You turned to face him, standing tall even though he was basically a foot taller than you. You raised your voice just enough to beat out the music, growling, “If you try anything with my sister, I will literally--” 

“Holy shit, I’m kidding,” he said gruffly, an exasperated sigh attached to the end of the sentence. He shook his head, mumbling as he brushed past you on the way back to the booth. “I don’t want your little sister, YN.”

---

Two hours later, Pierre was wandering the bar in search of someone new to occupy his time. He’d been with a group of co-eds for a bit, one of which he’d slept with once before, but they’d decided to leave for another bar. And though he’d been invited, he decided to stick with his real friends.

It had to be somewhere around midnight when he slipped past the bar and noticed Sadie at the end without any of her appointed babysitters and immediately felt worry bubbling up in his stomach. She was the youngest in the bar and seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and even though you told him to stay away, the creeps eyeing her down from the other side gave him bad vibes.

So, he stepped up beside her and leaned against the bar with a smile. 

“Bonjour!”

“Hey, Sadie,” he greeted her. She hiccuped. “You good?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she slurred. “I’m getting another Tequila shot.”

“Do you need one?” he asked. His tone of voice was teasing, but the concern was clear on his face. When she turned to look at him, he saw how strikingly similar she looked to you. It was probably the glare on her face that did it.

“I want one,” she repeated. “And you’re going to take one with me.”

“Well, okay.”

Pierre had seen this one too many times before. He knew this shot was going to be the end to her night, but it didn’t matter how hard he tried to stop her, it wasn’t going to work. The bartender brought the liquor over and after some convincing on Sadie’s part, he poured a shot for himself as well.

The tequila went down easy for the two men, but the look on Sadie’s face told Pierre that she also knew that shot was going to be her night’s death sentence.

“You look pale.”

“Let’s go sit,” she murmured, grabbing his wrist and pulling him with her towards the booth with the rest of the group. Seth caught Pierre’s frantic eyes as they approached.

“She’s going to be sick,” he whispered as soon as they were standing beside each other. They both looked up at Sadie who’d taken up residence at the end of the table, knuckles white from from clutching the top. “Where’s YN?”

“I have no clue,” Seth answered. “The bathroom maybe.”

Just as Pierre started to look around the bar, hoping to find you in the crowd, Sadie lurched slightly. 

“I need to get her out of here,” he said. “If she throws up here, YN would never want to come back and she loves this place.”

“Do you want me to just take her?”

It was a good question and Pierre stopped to think for a moment about the answer. Seth could take Sadie off his hands and he could go about his night normally, or he could prove to you that he wasn’t the asshole you painted him out to be. For whatever reason, he chose the latter.

“No, I got her,” he said. “Let YN know what’s going on, would you?”

---

You returned to the table not even fifteen minutes later, already pissed off because of how long the bathroom line was. Needless to say, Seth letting you know that Pierre had taken Sadie back to your place was not what you wanted to hear. 

“You let her leave this bar with Pierre?”

His fingers danced nervously along the beer bottle in his hand. The 6’ 4” defenseman was utterly terrified of your wrath, and had you not been so pissed off, you would’ve thrived in the feeling. “I know you hate him, but he was just trying to help out.”

“Help out?” you repeated. “You think Pierre would do something out of the kindness of his own heart for me, Jonesy?” He nodded a bit sheepishly. “You’re delusional.”

With that, you snatched your purse off the table and stormed out of the bar in pursuit of your apartment. The walk was only about ten minutes long and, quite frankly, you didn’t give a shit that you were walking through the city at night in a short little dress. You were a woman on a mission and anyone that crossed your path with the wrong intention was going to get your wrath, and it seemed that everyone knew that because you weren’t bothered once. 

You threw your door open once it was unlocked and the decorations on the wall rattled as the door hit the wall beside it. Pierre, who’d been standing outside the bathroom door, jumped out of his skin at the sound. He righted himself and stood tall as you entered the hallway unsure of what type of reaction he was going to receive from you. 

You hardly looked at him as you barked, “Where is she?”

“Puking.”

He leaned forward and pushed the bathroom door open a bit wider, revealing Sadie with her head on the toilet seat. You huffed as you entered and kicked the door closed in his face before slumping down beside her.

“Sadie, what the fuck?”

“I suck.”

“How much did you have to drink?” you asked, hand rubbing comforting circles on her back. 

“I was trying to keep up with your friends,” she murmured before gagging into the toilet again.

“You know that they’re all well above six feet and weigh like two hundred more pounds than you, right?” you stated. She nodded and groaned pathetically. “You should’ve known better.”

She didn’t offer a response to your chastising and instead sat up to look at you and said, “I thought I wasn’t going to like him.”

You raised your eyebrows at her.

“Pierre?”

“Yeah. He’s actually a really nice guy,” she grumbled, dropping her head back into her hand that was propped up on the toilet. “Held my hair back for me.”

With an eye roll and a grunt, you stood to leave her to fend for herself.

“Wait,” she called as soon as your hand was on the door knob. “Can you tell Pierre that I’m sorry I ruined his night?”

“Sure.”

“Be nice to him.”

“No promises,” you grunted, pulling the door open to kick the hockey player out of your house.

---

Pierre was uncomfortable in your apartment. Before you arrived, he was too worried about Sadie to even think about the fact that he was in the middle of your personal space. But now, as you sat with her in the other room and he stood in the living room lurking, he knew he didn’t belong.

There were books decorating your coffee table and plants hanging from the ceiling above him. The television stand was cluttered with picture frames of your family and friends from home. His eyes caught on a photo strip from a Blue Jackets event. Josh’s arm was slung over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist, both of you clearly hammered and smiling like two idiots who’d been sitting at the open bar all night. 

Although he couldn’t remember much of that night, thanks to the date he was entertaining, he did remember one thing. He remembered the dress you wore. 

It was this dark blue, almost navy dress, and there was a slit up your leg to your thigh that he kept finding himself gazing at. For the first time since he met you, he thought about what it would be like to feel your body against his, to slide his hand up and between your thighs in the middle of a team event just because he could. 

When he got home later that night after dropping his date at home, he jumped beneath a cold stream of water in the shower. He was desperate to clear his mind of every dirty thought that included you. In the end, the only thing that could clear it was release and he ended up jerking off in the shower despite himself.

“I could’ve used a text. I was worried sick.” 

You snuck up on him, leaving him with no time to pretend like he hadn’t been staring at you in each of your photos.

“I would’ve texted you but, in completely unsurprising news, I don’t have your number,” he said defensively. 

It wasn’t like he was expecting you to grovel at his feet for making sure your sister didn’t vomit in the middle of your favorite club, but he would’ve appreciated a little less attitude or a simple ‘thank you’. 

“Her phone was dead, too, and she started throwing up in a bush, so I was a little more concerned about holding her hair back than calling you right away.”

Your mouth snapped shut.

“Anyway, you’re welcome.”

Your mother would kill you if she saw you now. You didn’t even say thank you. 

But, before your mouth could catch up to the thanks at the tip of your tongue, Pierre was pulling the apartment door open and disappearing down the hall. Not even a parting glance was sent your way.

[retroellie]

can you do an ellie x joel's daughter!reader headcanon or imagine? maybe like set during the first game when they are like first getting to know each other and bonding (and developing crushes on each other 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩)

Summary: Joel daughter’s falling in love with ellie 

A/N: UGHHH my heart melted at the thought of this, Thank you for requesting<3 Also i’m sorry i suck at writing Imagines and yes i did express my love for David Bowie, what about it?

Warning: None, just innocent teenage love :) 

Word count: 1.8K 

You watched her laugh, throwing her head back in a fit of laughter. Sam was telling her jokes he had heard and she laughed at every single one.  It wasn’t fair, you should’ve been the one making her laugh, you wanted to be the reason but Sam dropped in and whisked her away from you. 

You gripped onto your book, not able to concentrate on the jumble of words, too distracted by the laughter coming from the two of them. You weren’t used to feeling jealous, there weren’t too many people you felt jealous towards but this felt horrible. It felt like someone was hanging food above your head and you were starving but you were a few inches too short. 

You have been through hell and back, you saw your mom die in front of you, you have killed so many people that you almost feel numb to the feeling of it. So why did this feeling hurt so much, why did it feel like your heart was being stomped on. Were you finally at your breaking point? 

“Hey kiddo.” A voice interrupted your thoughts 

You looked up from your book, it was your dad. He gave you a comforting smile and plopped down next to you. 

“Hey dad..” You replied, He was bruised up from the group you guys had run into on the way here. 

“How are you holding up?” He asked, placing a hand on your knee. 

“I'm okay,” You said, your voice trailing off and your eyes lingering over the book hoping he wouldn’t read into your answer. 

You weren’t sure how to feel anymore, everything was coming at you so quickly that you haven’t had time to process it. New emotions that you didn’t even know you could feel and old ones that you feel too often. Grief, loss, jealousy... love? 

“How about you put that book down and get some sleep, huh?” He said, shutting the book. 

“I was just getting to the good part.” You chuckled, looking over at him. 

He shook his head and grabbed the book from you, setting it on a near table. He got up, allowing you to fully lay down. You rolled up in a ball, the coldness sending shivers down your spine. 

“I will never know where you get your smarts..” He joked, placing his jacket over you. 

You cuddled up underneath it, suddenly exhausted. You hadn’t noticed how you haven’t slept in almost 24 hours, you all had been on the move ever since meeting sam and henry only resting once through it all. 

“Get some sleep kiddo, you need the rest.” He smiled down at you, turning to leave. 

He walked to the other side of the room, next to henry. They were cleaning up after dinner, getting ready for bed. You looked over at Sam and Ellie once more, they both sleepily told stories and dreams they had. Your eyes had fallen heavy and you could feel yourself being consumed by sleep. 

-

-

-

You were asleep for a couple hours before you woke up, the quietness of the room creeped you out. You weren’t able to fall back asleep so you decided to get up and go read in the moonlight. You crept around the sleeping bags and backpacks that had been thrown around lazily. 

You found a comfortable looking windowsill you could sit on and opened your book. The book was some old book you found in a cafe you had been through, it was about a red headed girl that didn’t fit in and was just trying to find her way through life, find her purpose. You enjoyed it, feeling connected to the character somehow. 

“Can’t sleep?” A voice said from the darkness, causing you to flinch. 

You snapped your head toward the voice, ready to grab anything to protect yourself with. It was Ellie, your body relaxed a little bit. She chuckled at your alertness. 

“No, it’s too quiet here.” You replied, setting your book down. 

She walked slowly over to the windowsill you were sat on and took a seat next to you. She gave you a small smile, that tiny smile made your heart do flip flops. 

“Right, the QZ’s, they can be loud huh?” She said, turning her attention to the window. 

You’ve never had time to really study her face, you didn’t notice the freckles dotted across her face or how green her eyes were. She would be pretty painted on a piece of paper, with all kinds of greens and peaches creating a perfect masterpiece. 

“Would you ever go back?” She started. “I mean to a QZ?” She turned her attention towards you, her green eyes boring into your skin. 

“I mean I don't think we can go back to Boston. '' You remembered, you never really let that sink in. What the fuck were you guys gonna do now. “But even if i could, i wouldn’t.” 

She chuckled, she wanted to draw you especially right now. The moonlight brought out your eyes, making them more prominent and dreamy. She was afraid she would fall into them if she kept staring at them. 

“I thought i liked it at the QZ but now that i’m here i don’t think i ever wanna go back.” She looked back up at you.” it’s so pretty out here.”  You nodded, looking at anything but her eyes. 

“My mom really wanted to get out of the city.” You stated. “She and my dad always wanted to fix up an old farmhouse.” You smiled at the dream you all had, knowing now it will never happen. 

Your mom was always a fighter, hell she even died one, but she was a dreamer at heart. You were proud to be like your mom, she was the only person in the world who saw things in a different way, that was until you met ellie. 

“Hey,” Ellie attempted to get your attention. You gave it to her, looking up at her. “I’m sorry about your mom, she was a really good person.” You could tell she was trying to make you feel better but it was hardly working, but you just smiled anyways. 

“Thanks.” You chuckled. “You know, she was the only person who didn’t make me feel any less than others because of who I am. Now that she’s gone i don’t know what to feel.” 

Ellie remained silent, letting you talk and she actually listened. She was easy to talk to, you never really told anyone what you were feeling but of all the people you had met she just felt different. 

“That reminds me of my best friend riley.” She spoke, breaking the silence. “I’ve never really had a home or a family to love but she felt like both.” She fumbled with her fingers, her nervousness evident. 

“And where is she right now?” You asked. 

She fell silent for a minute, suddenly her nervousness dropped to utter sadness. You thought you said something you shouldn’t, not sure how to fix it. You just let her take her time, sitting there with her, the two of you alone... together. 

“She got infected.” She finally said. You could feel your heart break for her, the one person she had taken from her. Ellie was completely alone. 

You don’t know what came over you but you didn’t know what to do and you were so heart broken, so when you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close, it surprised both of you. You both stayed like that for a moment, the shock causing Ellie to freeze up but she soon melted into your arms. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer. 

She would be lying if she said she didn’t have butterflies in her stomach right now. You could stay wrapped in her arms forever, it was so warm and cozy something you didn’t feel a lot in this world.

You both stayed like that for a minute, not sure when to pull away. But you guys finally did and when you did you both were blushing up a storm. Ellie looked out the window once more, trying to cover her red face while you looked in the complete opposite direction trying to hide yours.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, you just seemed upset and I....”

“No no, it’s fine” she interrupted, looking over at you. “I needed it.”

You blushed even more, all the blood rushed to your face made you lightheaded. There was a deep nervousness in your stomach, the thoughts of you messing up your entire friendship with Ellie made you sick to your stomach.

The self-deprecating thoughts zoomed through your head, calling yourself every single stupid name there was. You didn’t want to mess what little you had with Ellie up, what if she doesn’t like you now??

“Y/N” she said, getting your attention once more. “When we get older and after they find a cure... let’s buy a farmhouse together.”

Your heart could beat out of your chest right now, you could die a happy death. All your worries about messing everything up melted away with that single statement. You smiled, looking down at your dangling feet. 

“As long as i can get a horse, i’m down.” You chuckled, leaning against the window. 

She smirked, watching your every move. There was a tension that arose that was never really there before, it wasn’t an uncomfortable tension. This was the first time you had ever felt calm on this entire trip, actually looking forward to the cure now. 

“What would you name the horse?” she asked, trying anything to keep the conversation going. She found she really enjoyed talking to you. 

“Hmmm.” You thought for a minute. “Bowie.” You said, smirking over at her. 

“Bowie?” She asked. 

“Yeah, like David Bowie?” You said, watching as her face contoured into confusion. “Like the singer?” You said in disbelief. 

“Doesn’t ring any bells.” She replied, a blush forming on her face. 

You shook you head, wondering how anyone could not know who David fucking Bowie was. Even through the apocalypse he was an icon. 

“Well then, I have so much to teach you.” You joked. 

She smirked, looking down at her hands. She knew she had some kind of feelings for you but this interaction just confirmed her feelings. She didn’t know what love felt like but she had an idea of what it felt like and it’s what she felt now. She could fall in love with you. 

“Can’t wait.” She said with a smirk, hopping off the windowsill. “Goodnight.”

You watched as she walked away into the darkness, when she was finally out of sight you let out a small sigh. Your stomach did turns and your cheeks hurt from smiling, you’ve never had a crush before. 

You weren’t sure what you felt towards her but you liked the feeling, it felt like what the authors described love in the 19th century. It was no other feeling like it. 

-

-

-

(Credits to gif owner)

[thatonecitykid]

I bet on Losing

Hey everyone! Sorry this is so sad.. was already crying so might as well make everyone else cry.This takes place after Endgame but during the same time as Far From Home. Listen to "I Bet on Losing Dogs" by Mitski for the full experience. Word Count: 2517. Have fun angels :)

Peter had finally left for his class trip, Pepper and Morgan had gone to spend their summer in Malibu, the remaining avengers were either in space or had completely disappeared from your life. Here you were after five years of your life had evaporated, and after all this time you had to play your fathers role for all the remaining avengers. You hadn't had the opportunity to cry when you first learned about what had happened. You couldn't cry at the funeral, not because you did not want to, but because you felt as if your father wouldn't want to see it. No one wanted to leave you alone, but after months of trying to dig some type of emotion out of you they had assumed that the death and slow disappearance of your makeshift avenger family had unaffected you.

You finally had the opportunity to exist alone. You had also finally mustered up the strength to visit secluded cabin your father had lived in for the last five years of his life. Although you had been given the keys immediately after the funeral, something about visiting the area made you feel uneasy. Not necessarily creeped out but just as if you did not belong, after all it was something your father invested in after you had already blipped away for several months.

You drove up to the cabin alone, slowly unlocking the door as if to not start or whoever may be inside. Before even entering the cabin, it looks clean, you assume that Pepper has had people cleaning constantly to maintain the cabin. It made sense, it was something she's cherished. You stepped into the cabin slowly and began to look around. The walls were lined with framed pictures of Morgan, family pictures of Pepper, your dad, and Morgan, and random posters and vintage albums. Although you were not the one to complain about it, having no evidence of your existence in the main areas of the home caused your heart dropped. As you wandered through the kitchen and the main family room, there is no evidence of Tony's life prior to the blip, just a somewhat normal family of three.

You decide to wander to the basement area, leaving the office and bedroom spaces upstairs for later. There was a large sitting area that you assumed they watched movies in. There was also a playroom painted pink featuring all sorts of gadgets very similar to those you grew up with that Tony had made for you. Towards the back hall of the basement, it was a glass door to your father's workshop area. You open the door gently and made your way in.

Despite looking like somewhat of a mess, you knew that behind the madness there was a method. You could tell that although your dad left in a hurry, things were placed in specific spots very similarly to how he did in every other one of his workshops. You walked towards his swiveling chair, noticing a metal box with a button on the worktable. You press the button and jump back as a life-size hologram of your father appeared in the room. He began

"Hi Pepper. My love, my muse, my boss. If you are listening to this then I did the one thing you have always told me not to do. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the worry I've put you through, and I am sorry for taking myself away from you. I was a gift wasn't I. You've already seen another version of this message, but it never hurts to see your face again my darling."

The tears in your eyes begin to form, not because you had not expected to see your father. At this point you had already seen the message he had left after the funeral; It was only really meant for Pepper and Morgan, never addressing you.. At the funeral you refused to enter the cabin but as you watched the message while standing outside, Happy looked over at you with remorse but you kept a straight face again. Who were you to complain at your dead dad's funeral? Yet this message radiated the same energy.

As the second portion of the message began to play tears began to fall faster. It almost feels like an out of body, sure your dad had taken up different kids during your time growing up, but this message made you feel as If you had been completely replaced. Although it felt like a dumb theory there was no evidence as to your existence prior to Morgan.

"Hello my little scientist. How's my favorite person. Daddy is really sorry I can't be there right now. Be a trooper and hug you mom for me real quick. Now you must be surprised because I'm supposed to be the strongest dad in the world but let me tell you kid, sometimes crazy things happen when put on the ironman helmet. My little minion I love you 3000. My love for you is infinite. You have been and will forever be daddy's best friend."

Here you were crying over a child who had also lost her father, filled with jealousy over the fact that you father had chosen her and failed to consider your return but had prepared for Peter's return, still had projects waiting for Harley, and had in fact set up a stable plan for Morgan's future. At this point you were sobbing, what had all felt like a bad nightmare and jumping to conclusions had started to feel way too real. This emotion was even stronger than when you watched footage from your father suit as the snap happened, this emotion felt like a stab in the back.

Maybe he never loved me.

You tried to collect yourself but were still sobbing when the holographic figure of you father disappeared. You might as well finish the house tour before leaving. The upstairs portion of the house featured Tony and Pepper's room, Morgan's room and two other doors. The main bedroom was tidy and organized, with a closet full of clothes that both Pepper and your dad had left. You walked into Morgan's room and did a quick look around, not wanting to invade child space. Returning to the hallway you opened the door to your father's office. Inside there was a rather simple with a desk, a leather chair, and two matching chairs. The plants in the room were growing well, meaning someone still came to water them. There were a few pictures on the wall, including Peter's Stark internship picture, and a random picture you took of the original Avengers after their first New York battle. On the desk there was another metal box similar to that in the workpace. You argued whether or not you wanted to potentially break your heart more before giving in, siting in the leather seat and pressing the button.

A slim beam of light scanned over your face, confirming your identity, and the box began to play. To say you were shocked is an understatement, as your father's hologram appeared across the desk sitting in one of the matching chairs.

"Hello Munchkin. If you've found this box, then I just going to have to accept that I've failed you. You've been gone for five years and regret every moment leading up to when you snapped away. You really did want to come to space with me, and honestly you would have been helpful, but I don't think I could see you Blip away and have the will to continue. That being said because I am already admitting I was wrong, I should not have had your suit take you to the bunker room, where you eventually snapped away alone. I regret that decision y constantly. On another note, I'm sorry I didn't hug you as soon as you got back, I clearly I cannot really hug anyone."

You had finally given up on holding in their tears. You didn't have to be strong in front of your dad. He had always held you when you cried and this time he couldn't. You tried to wrap your arms around yourself, but nothing felt the same.

"I hope you are crying, because if I'm crying alone during this part, I'll be embarrassed, his image continued as it stood up and leaned against the back of the chair. Munch I know you've probably walked around this house and have found no evidence of yourself. You've probably beat yourself up about how much I love Morgan, but think about it. The amount of time I've spent these last 5 years essentially idolizing you would not have been good for her to experience. "

You rose quickly from the chair. Not even one damn picture?

"Now I know you're wondering not even a single picture. Pick up the projector box and follow me ."

You did as the digital version of your father told you and followed it back into the hallway.

"Put the box down and put your hand on the center of the door. "

This activated a scanner which opened up the door to the room. As you walked in you recognized that this was an exact replica of your room back in the Malibu house. You were still a kid when the original house was blown to pieces but somehow everything was exactly as you remembered it. As you walked further into the room you noticed the large screens, placed like picture frames, which played videos and pictures of you and your dad throughout the years.

Your father walked towards the center of the room, bounded by how far the projector was.

"You see kid, me and you have somewhat the same grieving styles. I have a feeling you didn't cry at the funeral. I have a feeling you haven't cried, at least in a way that someone else could have noticed. You take after me in that sense."

The hologram started to sniffle, your dad had actually started crying when recording this. You really wanted to hug him, the reality of his death hurt even more. You had finally allowed yourself to start grieving.

"Look, I know you used to listen to the song about betting on losing dogs when you wanted to cry, but that does not apply to you at all. You may have gotten a more complicated stick of life, but I can tell ya, this does not need to be your villain origin story. From the first day I took you home I could tell you were a fighter, but I need you to feel as if its ok to cry. I've spent hours on this floor in shambles wishing you were here. The small things that Morgan does that remind me of you throw me into sadness pools constantly. You are my motivating force. I really hope you allow yourself to cry about it so that you can continue in life. I don't think I can stand in this room for any longer before I cannot speak at all, so please take the projector back to my office. "

As you lifted the projector you thought about how much this must have hurt your father to record. Maybe he didn't want anyone to encounter this box except for you. As you placed the box on the desk, you sat back into the leather chair as your father's holograph sat across from you.

"On a different note, you are probably wondering why I seemed to set up a game plan for everyone but you. With Morgan I just made sure she had a comfortable, who am I kidding, lavish funding behind her. I can't dictate what a five-year-old should do. For Harley you know that I've always looked out for him, a position in Stark industries honestly should not have surprised you. Peter is what I feel most conflicted about. I'm not setting him up to become the next Ironman, I'm setting him up to become the greatest version of Spiderman he can be. Well, I know the media is probably going to take it and run having known that Spiderman and Ironman we're friends at some point, but I'm really giving you the biggest responsibility. I don't expect you to live in my shadow, I want you to outgrow it. I think you might be surprised to see everything that I left you, besides Stark industries itself. That's a conversation for another day."

"I know I've been speaking for quite a while, but my baby, my baby yes I called you that. I know how much this has all affected you, and I'm sorry, I am completely sorry and do take full fault for it all. But now because we cannot change the past, let's focus on the present. I want you to know that I loved you with my entire being. I'm not sure how to emphasize this enough but I do want you to know you were cared for, you were loved, and you were thought about for every minute. If you don't get to see this message, and I'm already gone, that means this message will never have to play for anyone. Either I found you and I've given you a new message, or I'm rolling in my grave. Either way my darling I cannot emphasize how much I love you. I do hope for the best for. Before I have to go, I want to see you smile. Sure, I can't physically see it right now, but I can imagine it."

As the recording choked out that last sentence, you flashed a weak smile. A face sticky with all the tears that you have been crying.

Now I know you need to get back home, but when you get back to the city, stop by the shawarma place and get something to eat. you gotta eat Darling. Also don't act like you don't like Peter, you two idiots keep pushing each other away in cannot take it. Now I'm gonna say goodbye mini me. Watch over Pepper and Morgan for me, okay? I love you."

You took one final sweep of the house before heading back to your car. You had cried so much that your eyes physical hurt. You almost felt a sense of comfort having finally released some of the pent-up emotion. As you drove towards the city and towards the Shawarma place you almost felt kind of sad, knowing that all of your friends were in a foreign country. Yet you still felt as if your best friend, your Dad was watching over you. And in all reality that felt as if it was the only thing that mattered.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 01

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, forced marriage

A/N: i’m so happy with the feedback i got for the last chapter, i’m glad you guys are excited about it!!! i hope you enjoy the first proper chapter. have fun xx

NEXT CHAPTER 

ingenue: generally a girl or a young woman who is endearingly innocent.

Y/N was the first one to be up, as per usual. Ever since both her and Gwen were kids she would be the first one to wake up, around sunrise, so she could climb up the attic and sit on the roof of the old country house to watch the sun light the night sky. Today, however, things were slightly different. She could see the staff of the how rush from side to side, preparing Gwen’s luggage so she could properly move into her future husband’s house and Y/N with her. 

Being a handmaid to the mob’s daughter was an archaic job, most of them had switched to bodyguards after the 50′s however the Forrest family did things the old way unlike other mob families. The leader of the family in particular, Michael Forrest, was one to follow tradition by a t, which was maybe why she had ended up growing up with Gwen instead of in an orphanage. Nevertheless, being a handmaid to Gwen was something that came naturally to her, specially when most of her job was being her portable consciousness. Y/N did not blame her for her reckless behaviour, specially when she had grew up in one of the most tight knitted mob families in all of New York. However, to Y/N, the day where Gwen finally had to move in with her fiancé always seemed ages away, something that probably wouldn’t happen, a day that would never arrive. Yet, here it was. 

She sighed, watching as the sun peaked from the horizon, the warmth slowly wrapping itself around her being, wondering if she would be able to do this once she was in her new home. God, her new home. She didn’t know what it looked like but from comments coming from Gwen it was far different from the shielded country house in the outskirts of New York. No, the Stan family lived a cosmopolitan hedonistic lifestyle in the Upper East side of New York where everything and everyone bowed in fear when they passed by. Yet, somehow, the family was still shrouded in mystery, specially the new head of the family, Gwen’s husband to be. She didn’t know what he looked like but rumours said he was pretty good shape, with a handsome face tainted by a scratch scar from his first kill. However, Gwen said he looked like a stereotypical rich boy. 

     - Y/N, are you in there? - her lips twirled into a smile as she heard a very familiar voice. She climbed down the stairs down to the attic, hugging the man who was standing there. - Gwen guessed you’d be here. 

    - I thought you were in California. - she smiled at Dan, Gwen’s older brother and apparent future head of the family, despite various arguments from him. He had graduated a few years ago and moving to California along with his girlfriend Beth. Y/N had always seen him as more of a older brother as he had been the one to teach her to ride a bike and the one who took her to prom when no one else did. - It’s so nice to see you. 

    - Yeah, dad called about Gwen moving in with Sebastian Stan, thought I had to say goodbye. 

    - As if Gwen will settle down. - Y/N sighed. - Besides, your father always said change was the way for an exciting life. 

    - If you don’t wanna go, I can speak with my father, Y/N. The Stans have pretty good security, you don’t need to be keeping an eye on Gwen. 

    - That’s nice of you, Dan, but I owe it to your father. - she walked from the attic and down the stairs onto the upper floor of the house. Dan followed her into her room where most of her necessary belongings were packed into a duffel bag and a flower patterned suitcase. - Besides, he can’t possibly be that bad. 

    - I know dad and Gwen constantly shield you from what they do, but trust me, it is not the best thing for you to go with her. The Stans are standoffish, murderous family who silence anyone and everyone who disobeys them. 

    - You’re being overdramatic, Daniel. People aren’t that evil. - she patted his face jokingly. 

    - Y/N? - Gwen peaked into her room. - The chauffeur is here. 

    - I gotta go. - she kissed his cheek whilst grabbing the handle of her suitcase and swinging her duffel bag around her back. 

Y/N followed Gwen down the hall and down the stairs, looking at the walls of the house she’d grown up in, a tinge of nostalgia hitting her as she walked outside the door. In front of the house was a limousine with blackened windows and a man dressed like an old-time driver, holding the passenger door open with a smile. This sight was different from Gwen’s regular chauffeur’s rolling his eyes whenever he saw the two girls coming. 

The heiress entered first, followed by Y/N whose luggage was politely taken away and put in the car’s boot. Inside there was a very expensive bottle of champagne which Gwen was quick to pop open and pour herself a glass as the car took off. Soon enough, the familiar environment of the sheltered home was loss and they were driving right in the Upper East Side, surrounded by designer branded shops, people carrying enough jewelry to pay for a down payment on a medium sized house. It was far different from the outskirts she was used to and Y/N wasn’t sure if she was gonna enjoy it, specially when she saw the much more modern building they were being driven to. 

Gwen, as per usual, was unfazed, almost as if she wasn’t about to be married in a few months to a man she clearly felt nothing for other than pure spite. They were let into the apartment complex, Y/N’s eyes going up to look at the futuristic design with no greenery to be seen in place. In front of the main apartment stood a valet dressed in a crisp suit straight out of a Paris runway, who tipped his cap as the car came to a halt. 

   - Miss Forrest, welcome. - the valet opened the door for her who slightly turned to step onto the perfectly straight and flaw free stone of the ground, removing her sunglasses to take a better look at the man. - I’m here to escort you to the penthouse.

   - A penthouse ... original. - the heiress offered the man a fake smile who opened the main door for her while Y/N stepped away from the car too, silently taking the chauffeur. - Come on, Y/N. 

Few people got to enter or even be close to Sebastian, even Gwen who had been promised to him had never been to his place and now that she was, she wasn’t impressed. The man looked to follow the stereotypical powerful man playbook, at least judging by her window based, modern approach when it came to his home. Y/N on the other way was somewhat enchanted by the level of luxury surrounding her. The lift itself was padded with dark velvet material, a slight mahogany smell constantly entering her senses. The ding signalled they had arrived and as the doors opened, she realised the level of luxury Mr. Stan lived in paled to that of Mr. Forrest. The walls were windows, giving the room a perfect view of the Upper East Side and natural lighting to the dark marble floors that shone the slightest whenever the light hit it just right. 

  - Miss Forrest, it’s a pleasure to welcome you to your new residence. - another man perfectly dressed in a suit, hands behind his back, took a slight bow. - I assume this is your handmaid. 

  - I’m Y/N. - she extended her arm, smile on her face to try and mask how nervous she was but the man kept his posture, not even acknowledging her hand. 

  - Mr. Stan is expecting you. - Y/N looked over to Gwen, expecting it to be directed towards the heiress but as the man placed his hand on the small of her back and started leading her away from Gwen, she started to panic. - Not to worry, miss, it’s standard procedure. 

  - Standard procedure? - they stopped walking once they reached a big dark brown wooded door with golden handles. He didn’t say anything else, instead the man knocked on the door before holding the handle, slightly twisting it and opening the door for a small inch. 

Y/N could fell her heart beat on her throat, not entirely sure what awaited her behind that door. She knew the tales, she knew the stories, Dan had told her several times what his family was capable of, what he was capable of. She remembered being a young girl and hearing about it, muffled voices from Gwen’s father’s office, death threats. Now she was about to see him for the first and it felt wrong, it felt like she would be stripping the myth away from the man. 

With her hand slightly trembling, she pushed the door open to its full capacity, her eyes meeting with a figure standing behind a wooden desk covered with various papers. However, it wasn’t the amount of paperwork in the sort of small desk that surprised her, it was the man behind it. Suddenly, all she could hear was a buzz in her ears and the nerves she had before were heightened.

  - M...Mr. Stan? - Y/N didn’t expect to stutter, however, that had been how her voice came out. He raised his head, stunned at the woman standing in front of him and had to fight the smile that was wanting to creep onto his face. 

The daylight allowed her to study his features better than the darkness of the club. Physically, he was extremely well built with a physic belonging to a stock hero character on the silver screen, with blue eyes and light skin tainted by a small scar on his left cheekbone. 

  - Take a seat, Miss ... - he stood up, pointing at one of the black velvet chairs facing his desk.

  - Y/N. - she replied, shyly walking over to the desk and sitting on the cold leather which greatly contrasted with her warm skin. He looked at her like a predator to a prey, examining every single detail about her complexion and demeanour. His gaze alone made her feel as if she were naked in front of him. However all he could think about was how endearingly harmless she looked in an oversized pirate styled white blouse tucked over a high waisted leather and velvet black skirt and some scratched yet somehow polished black ballerina shoes. It was a far cry from the oversized heels and dress she had been wearing the prior night. He thought it suited her better. - I’m so incredibly sorry for last night, Mr. Stan.

   - Sebastian. - he corrected her, putting down the paper work he had been looking at. - Am I correct to assume you’re Gwen’s handmaid?

   - Yes, sir. - Sebastian bit his lip, listening to the innocent title that escaped her mouth in the most normal of ways. - I do understand it’s a bit odd, but Mr. Forrest requested I continued to keep Gwen company and make sure she’s alright.

   - A bit of an outdated job but my fiancée said you were an non negotiable employee, therefore, I guess you’re part of my staff now. I hope it is not rude to discuss salary, I’m not entirely sure how much Mr. Forrest or Ms. Forrest pay you. 

  - Oh, I’m not paid. I don’t expect you to pay me either, Mr. S ... Sebastian. - she corrected herself mid sentence, feeling the heat creep up her cheeks as he gave her a puzzling look.

  - People who shot at Ms.Forrest will shoot you too, they’ll even shoot first. Do you mean to tell me you put your life on the line for free? - he cocked an eyebrow at her.

  - Why would people shoot me? - his lips were tightened as he wondered if she even knew what the mob did and how they dealt with enemies and issues. The Forrests themselves had few enemies, mostly surviving due to smart tactics and alliances with other small mobs, however, the Stans were mostly hated by every other mob in New York that coveted their unshaken, powerful grip over the Upper East Side and its residents. Once Gwen became officially his wife, any single person who hated him would hate her too and by that, would also hate Y/N. He couldn’t help but chuckle darkly at her naiveté.

  - Alright, Miss Y/N ... - he pushed a small stack of papers, stapled together with a shiny gold staple towards her. - Please sign.

  - What is it? - Y/N didn’t even touch it, merely taking a quick glance. If there was something Mr. Forrest had embedded into her and Gwen was to never, ever sign something without knowing what it was.

  - A contract. You’re my employee now, under my payroll, therefore I require you to sign a contract.

  - I’m not gonna sign a contract without reading it. - to be truthful, she was scared to deny him. He was statuesque and confident while she was cowering in her chair. - I would like some time to read it ... maybe ask a lawyer to look over it.

 - Are you negotiating with me, Miss Y/N? - he was intrigued, watching as she used the last shred of courage she had to nod her head yes. - I don’t negotiate, Miss Y/N, but since my fianceé is rather found of you ... I’ll give you a day. How does that sound?

  - Thank you, Sebastian.

  - You may go now. - she beamed almost like a Disney Princess, preparing herself to pick up her contract, her hand reaching the paper before his hand wrapped itself around her wrist, stopping her from taking her hand away. She squealed softly, not expecting the sudden grip on her wrist. - Tell Genevieve to come in, please.

   - Yes, sir.

He loosened the grip on her wrist thus allowing her to grab her contract and almost rush out of his office, leaving him to watch her leave and close the door behind her. She was positively dewy-eyed, ingenuous even, possibly the first woman he’d met within the mob who didn’t carry a knife under her skirt or spoke with the confidence of a stone queen. She was like a little daisy in the middle of blood soaked roses. However, he couldn’t help the route his mind took whenever she called him sir.

[allmights-right-boob]

Not fic: Cursed Twilight addition

So I’m about to have my BNHA rights revoked but I just finished Midnight Sun (at the time when I started writing this) and started thinking about the characters and that Rosalie and Bakugo are weirdly similar so now here I am outlining a Twilight Au that no one asked for (except me but I’m garbage) that I will never write because I can’t focus long enough to write an actual story (fun fact this outline is taking months to complete). To be honest though this is more of a background on all the characters as opposed to an outline of the Twilight story (oops) which may or may not come later. Author’s notes are in parenthesis if you haven’t figured that out.

Basically I’m replacing Twilight characters with BNHA characters, not everyone will have the same back story, it’ll be blended(future me: um so that was a lie). Everyone’s quirks are still mostly the same but as their vampire gift with some variation to fit the word. It still takes place in the Pacific north-west because I’m not super sure if there’s a place as cloudy as there in Japan besides the mountains like Mt.Fuji (but that’s more misty I think) but there’s too many people around places like that I feel. But then again I’m not actually writing this whole fic so you’re welcome to imagine them still in Japan. If I did write this as a fic I would actually do proper research to decide where to put them but meh, this is a not-fic. As it is I’m calling the town it would take place in Forks/Crossroads cause that would be a cool alternative name. The backgrounds take place all over the word but I never actually say where. My bad.

Also if you do read this I love you very much and I am so sorry, this is ramble-y and has way too many run-on sentences and is written as if I were speaking to you as opposed to an actual written story. It’s also taken so long to complete things I wasn’t sure about in the beginning become solidified later but it’s also written out of order so probably reads really bad. Again my apologies.

So the characters are as follows:

The Olympic Coven/Cullens - The Might Coven/Aizawa-Yagis

Carlisle Cullen- Toshinori Yagi

So obviously I made Toshi Carlisle because suave blond everyone loves is both of their MO. Toshi is probably around 500 years old and like Carlisle was turned while hunting vampires. I still want him to have two forms but I’m not entirely sure how to do that within the confines of the Twilight universe. Maybe he was injured in a battle where he literally lost parts of himself and can’t fully heal so he’s become weak but still can’t die? He’s a doctor but might be semi-retired because of his injury, the cover story is an undisclosed chronic illness. He’s also a part time stay at home dad. He definitely used his vampirism to help and protect humans in the past.

Probably had a coven when he was younger with Nana and Torino but Nana was killed and Torino sent Toshi away for his own safety. He may or may not have started out as vegetarian, I can see Nana as veg or only eats bad people, Torino is an eats bad guys type but will eat anyone when pressed. Toshi either started out as a vegetarian before meeting Nana or if she found him immediately and took him in he would go animal based pretty quickly, She always respected his lifestyle. Grand Torino respects it to an extent but now that Toshi is hurt wants him to drink from humans because he thinks it’ll help Toshinori heal or at least be better for his body. He was in his 40s when turned.

Esme Cullen- Shouta Aizawa

It should surprise literally no one that I’m making this Erasermight because I am soft for my boys and anything is an excuse to ship them. Shouta is honestly the person who has taken the longest to work out along with Shinsou. Like so, so, long. These two are also related, they’re cousins or uncle/nephew or something. They’re also the most different from their counterparts, probably because it’s taken so long for me to work their stories out I’ve just completely changed them from original Twilight.

So the time period is really vague with him, it’s either the late 1800s or WWI. Hitoshi was an orphan around the age of 12 and Shouta his guardian is 30-31. Either way there was a war (and I looked at the wars in the second half of the 1800s, it’s just so many wars. What is wrong with this world?) and it could have easily been the civil war (and if so they were Unionist, obviously.) But wherever he and Hitoshi lived there was a war happening and he was probably not in the army at the time, just protecting his home and neighbors. At the same time Toshinori and Izuku were in the area trying to help civilians because wars suck and they’re basically un-killable so they can help and with the chaos of everything if someone started to suspect something of them they could fake their deaths and leave. And they probably did. But while traveling through they stop in a town/village and meet Shouta and Hitoshi.

Shouta is his gruff no nonsense self and Hitoshi is a little in awe of Yagi because this is still pre-injury so he’s this huge imposing man who’s gentle and knowledgeable about medicine. Eventually even Shouta comes around to liking Yagi, who has the nickname All Might because of his strength, even though he thinks his over the top enthusiasm in front of others is exhausting. In private Toshi ends up letting his guard and persona down with Aizawa because he realizes he doesn’t have to keep it up, he doesn’t need to make Aizawa like and trust him the way he does with the others, it’s just natural the way they click. Toshi probably fell in love first, vampires fall in love fast and long and all encompassing in a way that if they were human would be rather unhealthy (and probably is anyway because this is fiction but I don’t really care because this is fiction and I relate to unhealthy love way too much). Shouta was more reserved because he is a cautious man by nature and probably loves in a similar but more healthy way to vampires, long and devoted, but he must be careful to whom he gives his heart. I still don’t think he meant to fall for Toshinori, loving a man in the time that they lived was dangerous and inadvisable if one could avoid it. But Toshinori Yagi is the kind of man one cannot help but loving.

They didn’t tell each other how they felt though. A few months after Izuku and Toshinori’s arrival there was an attack on the town, Hitoshi they found safe but Toshinori caught wind of Shouta’s scent and followed, finding him mortally wounded. Desperate to keep him Toshi turned him and split off from Izuku and Hitoshi while Shouta adjusted to vampire life. They quickly became lovers, though Shouta had a brief stint as a human blood drinker as revenge for the destruction of his village. But it started to test their relationship and in the end Toshi and his own morals were more important to him than human blood. The four of them reunite a year later and they try to keep their relationship a secret but both of the boys figure it out pretty quickly. Izuku accepts it immediately because his dad is finally with someone and is happy while it takes Hitoshi a bit of time because period typical homophobia and it’s going to take a while for Yagi to earn his trust back after turning Aizawa in front of him.

Aizawa has an erasure power same as in canon. Since he doesn’t need to blink he’s a bit op but opponents who are faster than his eyes can track and multiple opponents are his weaknesses. He’s a history teacher at Forks/Crossroads high but purposefully does not have his own kids as students. He’s a mystery to most of his colleagues who probably haven’t even figured out he’s got five kids in the school.

Rosalie Hale- Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo has a pretty similar start to Rosalie but because what happened to her is so awful and  I have problems doing that even to fictional characters that part is different. He’s still a rich kid from the early 20th century, probably turned in the 1920s, but he and his explosive temperament pissed off the wrong people who jumped him in an alley and beat him almost to death, like actually thought he was dead so they left him there (I know this isn’t that much better than what happened to Rose but man she had a horrific end to her human life). He was around 17-18 when he was turned.

While human he had met Dr. Yagi, who was probably treating one of his parents for a chronic ailment, along with his son Izuku and his ‘companion’ Aizawa and Aizawa’s ward Hitoshi. All of the others gave him the creeps but Izuku was a relatively normal boy, a bit younger than himself and accompanied his father when visiting the Bakugos. Their relationship is pretty much the same as canon where Izuku likes Bakugo a lot and Bakugo is nothing but awful to him. They end up with a sort of ‘I hate you but you’re my best friend’ relationship except neither actually hates the other. When Yagi finds Bakugo half dead in an alley he turns him because he was weirdly fond of the angry young man and more so because he thought that the relationship between the two boys was growing into something more, he and Izuku hadn’t talked about it, as he was waiting for his son to come to him, and he didn’t have time to ask. He realizes later that no, Katsuki and Izuku are not star crossed lovers like he and Shouta but he can’t say he regrets turning Bakugo other than Bakugo’s own hatred of being a vampire. He loves his angry son okay.

Bakugo had a life goal which was probably taking over the family business though based off canon that would be fashion and I can’t see him interested in that. Whatever it was he was pursuing it with the same single mindedness that he possesses for heroism and since he can no longer achieve his goals as a vampire he resents it along with the fact that the decision to become a vampire or die a human was taken away from him. He does have a good relationship with Toshinori and Shouta even though he still acts like a brat. His cover story is that he’s Toshinori’s cousin’s son and is an orphan who they took in. He kept his family’s name.

Like a number of vampires Bakugo has a talent or gift. His is his incredibly powerful and dangerous explosion ability. He can cause explosions from his palms. So far the League has not discovered him but everyone worries that one day they will and the Might Coven will be hunted and slaughtered for Bakugo’s power.

Emmett Cullen- Eijirou Kirishima

Sometime around the 1930s  Bakugo was hunting and found a bleeding almost dead Kirishima. It was either an animal attack like canon or an accident where he fell off a cliff (that feels like something he would do). I don’t think he decided to turn Kirishima, he just smelled blood and lost control. He’s still ashamed about how he reacted to this day as he’s typically better than that around humans. Luckily the others were hunting with him and were able to pull Bakugo off. He’s never held what Bakugo did against him and his enthusiasm and friendship actually endeared him to Katsuki despite his guilt. Eijirou was turned at 19 and has never had issues with being a vampire, it sucks that he had to leave his human family behind but he loves his vampire one just as much and he got the love of his life out of it. It took awhile but Katsuki and Eijirou eventually admit their feelings and they start dating. They’ve been married a few times now because Bakugo is extra and Eijirou loves confessing his love.

With Kirishima’s gift it doesn’t work the same as in cannon where you can tell it’s activated. In fact they still might not know Kiri has a gift or if they do it’s only a suspicion. He’s just harder than the other marble like vampires. Where the others have almost certainly had mild injuries (mostly from Bakugo’s explosions) like cracks that heal immediately, Eijirou has never been injured as a vampire. At all. He’s also immensely strong, because he was as a human, and that has been enhanced but he’s nowhere near as strong as Toshi was pre-injury. His cover story is he’s a foster kid they took in and he keeps the last name Kirishima.

Alice Cullen- Denki Kaminari

Like Alice Denki spent the end of his human life in an insane asylum (I refer to it as such because these were not hospitals and more like institutions of torture). I honestly can’t figure out if mental health care was so bad in the early/mid 20th century that a 15-16 year old boy with ADHD being sent to one is unrealistic or not. I’m pretty sure it was similar to Alice where he saw something he shouldn’t and was put in it to silence him.( I should probably figure out what that was sometime) Either way that’s where he ended up and of course he had to deal with electroshock ‘therapy’ which both severely messed with his memory and sorta brought out a natural resistance and even control over electricity, so he had to receive stronger and stronger sessions. This manifested in Denki’s electric power when he was turned into a vampire.

While hunting in the woods surrounding the institution, Hitoshi spotted Denki in the window and was instantly taken by the boy with eyes as golden as his inhuman family’s. He would make trips by the asylum just to get a glimpse and eventually took a night job there to meet him against his family’s advice. When they met Denki recognized him despite how careful, and honestly far away, Hitsohi had been and instead of being creeped out he was happy just to make a new friend. They would talk as long as they could and Hitoshi would bring Denki little bits of the outside world like flowers or decent snacks. And he would take care of Kaminari when his ‘therapies’ would leave him incapacitated and the nursing staff would neglect him.

Even after his family moved away to a location where the weather suited them better Hitoshi stayed working at the asylum not willing to leave Denki to his fate there (And to note this is around the time the others realized how serious Hitoshi’s feelings are and start planning how to help Kaminari or bring him into the family. Before this they were starting to suspect but kinda thought he was being weird about a guy he saw in a window. To be fair though he was being weird about a guy he saw in a window.) One night after an ice bath ‘treatment’ Denki developed a fever and over the course of a few days had full blown pneumonia. In his delirium he confessed his feelings to Shinsou who reciprocated and decided he would steal Denki away when he knew the trip back to his family wouldn’t kill the sick boy. Of course being a poorly run and over populated institution his condition was overlooked and ignored especially since a ‘specialist’ was coming to perform procedures on several patients, aka some guy with no degree was going to lobotomize as many people as he could fit into one day. Shinsou didn't find out until he came in that night and found out Kaminari was already in the procedure room. He flipped out and killed most of the staff there and took a severely injured Denki home to Toshinori in the hopes of saving him.

The change seemed to take longer than it had for the others but does end up working, though when he finally comes to Denki is much more quiet and subdued and remembers almost nothing about his past. All he knows is his name, Hitoshi’s name, and that he loves him. He also has weird headaches periodically for decades later and slowly becomes more like himself before the lobotomy. He never fully recovers his memories, a bit here and a piece there, all moments shared with Hitoshi. He decides he doesn’t need the rest, everything he needs is here and in his future with his family.

His cover story is typically as a foster kid so he keeps his last name Kaminari. Sometimes he decides to change things up and goes as a Yagi or even Bakugo’s brother when Katsuki is feeling generous.

Jasper Hale- Hitoshi Shinsou

Hitoshi’s early years were spent in his small town or village (I think the difference is size but I’m american and I don’t think we have villages no matter how small a place is so...) Everything was uneventful up until the war, I don’t know which war, civil war in US or WWI in Europe, but around the age of 12 his village was destroyed, his guardian was turned into a vampire and he had to go live with Izuku while Aizawa learned to manage his bloodlust. During that time he and Izuku grew really close and even now they have the most brotherly relationship out of all the siblings.

So after a year the four reunite with a vampire Shouta and an overly protective Izuku and a very weary Hitoshi. Everything goes on as it did for Toshinori and Izuku before they split but now with their two new additions. Yagi gives Hitoshi the best education he can without sending him to boarding school although they had discussed it. They were in a precarious position with a human boy knowing their vampire secret and they couldn’t run the risk of news getting back to the League, the governing body of vampires run by a mysterious head known only as All for One.

Years pass but unfortunately news of the Might Coven’s human pet gets back to the League and due to past history involving Nana and Toshi, AfO comes himself to deal with the situation and brings his two most powerful underlings, his adopted son and second in command Tomura Shigaraki and . A fight between Yagi and All for One happens and AfO rips out a piece of Toshi’s side and Toshi ends up crushing AfO’s head, killing him (maybe but probably not). Tomura, who had been fighting against Shouta and Toga who battled Izuku, realize they can’t win.

Now the vampire known as All Might is pretty popular amongst his kind but the Might Coven was at the time nowhere near strong enough or influential enough to fill the void that would be left by the dissolution of the League, which would happen if they killed all three of the vampires there. So they took a gamble and spared Shigaraki and Toga thinking their loyalty to AfO was limited, since most vampires don’t form bonds the way ‘vegetarians’ seem to, and that they would be happy with their promotion. They also agreed at Hitoshi’s insistence that he would be turned so they would no longer have a human knowing the secret about vampires. So Yagi turns Hitoshi and they let Toga and Shigaraki go and continue about their lives as much as they can with Toshinori’s injury.

Just like the rest of his family, Shinsou's quirk is the same as canon. If someone answers his question he can control their minds. It’s probably a little stronger than in canon too, at least against humans. Vampires have better resistance. His cover story is the most truthful, he’s Shouta’s orphan relative. He sometimes takes on Aizawa’s last name though in this school he decided to use his original.

Edward Cullen- Izuku Midoriya

The more I plot this out the more I’m taking Twilight, stripping it down to the bare outline, and making it into something totally different. Like the only similarities are Izuku and Shoto’s relationship follows Bella and Edwards, somewhat. Izuku is the tanned skinned, freckled, green eyed boy in a family of pale golden eyed outsiders. He seems completely human even to other vampires, til you get him in the sunlight where he literally shines.

I’m not sure when Izuku was born, maybe the 1700s, but he was still the first of the Might Coven besides Toshinori. Sometime after Nana’s death Toshi finds an ailing pregnant woman named Inko Midoriya who’s bizarre husband still hasn’t come home from his business trip to a foreign country. She’s convinced she is going to die before he returns and her pregnancy is so hard and so seemingly fast but her baby feels strong enough to survive so she begs Toshinori to please take care of her son till his father returns. Inko dies before she can give birth to her baby so Toshinori takes the baby out himself as a last ditch effort but there’s something not right, not with the baby or the amniotic sac that’s almost as hard as Toshinori himself. And when the sun shines through the window Toshinori’s arm glimmers and so does the new born baby. Dread at the thought that he’s holding an immortal child wells in him but he’s never heard of an immortal child being born and he’s especially never heard of a vampire with a heart beat. So against his better judgement he takes the child and runs, he can’t wait for Inko’s husband, and he can’t risk someone seeing the child and reporting back to the League. So he and Izuku, a name Inko had picked out before her death, stay on the run for years as the boy grew until he was at an appropriate age to be around at least vampire kind. Conveniently the half vampire boy doesn’t need blood to survive and seems to have very little if any bloodlust at all. Or so it seemed.

Now some differences I’m making will be Izuku’s aging. I know Rennesme ages fast and stops when she looks 21-25 but I’m thinking Izuku either ages very slowly or stopped when he looks closer to 15-18? Probably the first one. Also I think male half-vamps have red/gold eyes but Izuku has green because I said so.

His cover story is that he's Toshinori’s son from a previous relationship. They tried to call him a foster child in the past but they’re too close and Izuku uses Toshinori’s given name and dad interchangeably. He likes to use his mom’s last name as a way to honor her. Not every school but it is a pretty common thing for him to do and he’s using it in Forks/Crossroads this year. He doesn’t seem to have a gift but he’s a half vampire, his presence is a gift.

Humans

Bella Swan- Shoto Todoroki

Time for ‘technically main character number two but I preferred everyone else in Twilight over Edward and Bella so he and Izuku get put down lower on the list’. So Todoroki and Bella’s similarities are: new kid comes to live with other parent after the parent they lived with got married. I really don’t think there’s a lot else similar? But Bella doesn’t have that much back story to begin with.

So Shoto’s parents grew up in Forks/Crossroads but moved somewhere sunnier before he was born. He grew up in a city, maybe Phoenix (almost certainly Phoenix for the name alone). His parents had an unhappy marriage but I honestly don’t think it was full on abuse, I feel like Enji still neglected them but never physically or verbally hurt anyone. And since Shoto moves back in with Rei I don’t think she gave him his scar either, I think it was an accident where young Shoto pulled maybe a hot kettle onto himself? It probably was the catalyst for his parents divorce but ultimately that was happening either way. Both parents blamed the other for his accident but I think the courts realized it was just that, an accident, maybe some negligence (I don’t really know how custody courts work and what happens when a kid gets hurt and this isn’t a real fic so I’m not researching) but either way Enji gets Shoto (maybe all the kids but Rei gets visitation, comes down for the summer like Charlie? Kids go up there for vacation and holiday? Or split the kids 50/50? No idea this is still more backstory than Bella got) Enji is still a workaholic and Toya ends up running away/leaving probably shortly after the divorce anyway and Fuyumi and Natsuo eventually leave for college and are still closer to Rei even if they lived with their dad.

So when Enji gets remarried Shoto asks to move in with his mom since she’s all alone and Enji wouldn’t be and ‘wouldn’t it be nice to just be two newly weds with the house to themselves’. He makes a very convincing case and Enji is trying to let his youngest make his own choices so he agrees. Shoto moves north and it isn’t the worst, he likes both the heat and the cold unlike his parents, Rei hates the heat and Enji hates the cold. School is weird because people actually want to be his friend; there’s a group of stoic, pale, intimidating students he’s 90% sure are vampires; and there’s a  beautiful boy who hangs out with them who looks partially horrified and disgusted by him, or like he wants to eat him alive, literally.

Renee Dwyer- Enji Todoroki (Technically)

So I ended up making Enji considerably less awful.

After the divorce Enji figures out his sexuality and eventually starts dating a much younger model who goes by Hawks after he saves him from a burning building (Enji is a firefighter). Shoto offers to move in with Rei after Hawks and Enji get married, he has nothing against Hawks and they get along as well as can be expected but they are newly weds and Enji might be going into semi retirement to travel with Hawks for his career. And the thought of being around his dad so much, who can get a little overbearing when not working, is just not something Shoto wants to deal with. Though it is weird his dad is married to someone so much younger, Shoto knows several other people in his class in Phoenix whose dads did similar and they cheated on their wives and didn’t even have a sexuality crisis in their forties so he’s letting his dad slide on this. Shoto definitely has a better relationship with Enji in this than canon Shoto but they don’t have Enji’s shity eugenics baggage here either. Overall Enji in this is just a neglectful workaholic who’s learning to work on himself with the guidance of the love of his life and is letting Shoto make his own decisions like living with his mom and this is all growth.

Charlie Swan- Rei Todoroki (Technically)

So Rei after the divorce moves back home because she hates Phoenix and hot weather. Maybe she gets custody in the summer or has Fuyumi and Natsuo since Toya took off and they split the kids? (I still haven’t decided how the custody went with those two but they don’t live in Forks/Crossroads or Phoenix so it doesn’t matter.)

After returning home she either started working at or opened up a yarn shop, I see her enjoying needle craft and she’s definitely not a sheriff type. She’s just a quiet, keeps to herself woman with a few close friends; children mostly grown and just happy to spend more time with her youngest.

Phil Dwyer- Keigo Takami

He’s a model who gets saved by Enji when his apartment burns down. He offers to take Enji to dinner and keeps offering to reward him until at Moe’s insistence Enji agrees. They hit it off and the rest is history.

Things I would have said in the tags but there’s a limit so I put the actual important stuff there and ramblings here:

It took me three weeks to finish this (midnight sun) audiobook. I literally drive for a living and couldn’t finish it in less than the entirety of my library rental time. Jake Able deserves more money.

I have read twilight three times now and it never gets easier. Yes I do have terrible taste.

I hope someone reads this. It took like three months to finish this post. I still have so much in my head. I haven’t even started talking about the League. Please ask questions, I want to actually write this but my brain won’t let me write full fics so this is what we get.

[tehyunqs]

𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 — 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑂𝑁𝐸

OCEAN DRIVE in which a religious girl gets wirled up in a corrupt catholic church’s ties with a dangerous mob. ( a jeon jungkook au )

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: foul language, mob/mafia(??idk), mentions of hell, murder, etc. . . .

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: hello! wtf i literally published a story like 10 minutes ago, and i’m already receiving so many kind messages!! THANK YOU SO SO MUCH!! to celebrate, i’m publishing this jungkook series a little earlier than expected! enjoy :’)))

━ ❝forgive me father, for i have sinned.❞

“do you know your prayers?” i had to fight the urge to roll my eyes when the question slipped through my father’s lips. my eyes focused on the road ahead of me as i nodded my head.

“if you don’t pass this year, i’m going to be very disappointed, valentina.” i hummed in response, not caring for anything religious at the moment. don’t get me wrong, i enjoy learning the word of God, and everything i need to follow to be able to walk into heaven. but it’s just blatantly boring to me sometimes.

my life consists of these two things; school and church. my father was a priest after all. he decided to convert when he almost lost his life to his addiction to heroin. he said God have him a second chance, and he was devoted to him ever since.

but i always got a weird vibe off of this church. the priests looked and sounded like hypocrites when they flaunted their thousand dollar watches and jewelry, and drove into the church’s parking lot in expensive cars.

hypocrites because they always talked about needing to be humble to have eternal paradise and yet they want all the riches on the earth.

we were currently on our way to the church for my oh-so-fun-and-interesting weekly class. i am so dying to be there for three straight hours.

we passed by the beat up apartment building we always did. i always knew it was a hangout for those up-to-no-good folks, so i never paid any attention to it. until this very day, when i spotted a rather handsome boy. he looked no older than 25 and wore a black leather jacket accompanied with worn out jeans and black leather boots. he had a cigarette in between his lips and i never thought i’d say this, but he made smoking look very attractive. (but overall it’s not a good thing; people die).

before his eyes met mine, i leaned up in my seat to get a better look at him, and when they did, i quickly turned back to look at the road ahead with crimson red cheeks.

gosh, i must’ve looked like such a creep just staring.

my father caught where i was looking and shook his head. “i don’t understand why those lowlifes don’t put out their cigarettes and start going to church.” my father began to complain about the teens and young adults we had just passed. all i did was remain silent. for a priest, he sure loved criticizing the people out here.

“the word of God can get them out of this mess! help them cope with their addictions!”

“dad, we’re not at the altar.” i bluntly reminded him with a drip of sarcasm, referring to his loud voice and how i knew he was going to unknowingly start preaching.

he turned to look over at my annoyed expression before stopping the car at a red light. “do you not enjoy talking about God?”

i knew he was waiting for me to make eye contact by the way he wouldn’t dare turn back to check the light. all i did was keep my stare straight away, causing him to give up and sigh.

“the light turned green.” i dryly ignored his question.

he stepped on the accelerator once more after he pursed his lips at my reaction. “answer me, val.”

i gave him a light shrug as my fingers played with the hem of my skirt. “i do.”

“then why the long face?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about. this is my everyday face.”

“try to be a little more excited about where you’re going, valentina.” that was all that was said before we finally arrived at the place i most dreaded at the moment. i had my days when i was actually looking forward to come here. but today was just one of those days.

i got out of the car and before i could slam the door shut, my father leaned over to look at me one last time, “you pay attention okay?”

“mhm.” i responded and finally shut the door. i turned back around as i heard him drive out the church’s exit.

as i stared at the front door, my eyes diverted back to the exit. i began to contemplate on wether or not to become weak and skip the class. i’ve only ever done such a thing once; at school when i had no intentions of hearing ms. curtis’ annoying, squeaky voice for an hour and a half.

after a few more seconds of bitter hesitation, i reluctantly reached out to grab the door and stepped inside the well-kept church.

just two more months and i finish my confirmation. almost there.

the walls were decorated with luxurious religious paintings; from the great annunciation to the death of the savior. each testament of the Bible was painted in its own unique way. expensive crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling in every room as well as crosses made out of gold and silver. this church practically screamed and exploded in riches.

my feet took me to where they always did when i was dropped off for my weekly class. my head hung low and my shoes walking across the tile floors were all that my eyes focused on.

that is, until i heard a voice call out my name.

“ah, valentina!” i looked up and met eyes with one of the priests of the church. “so glad to see you here! going to your confirmation class, i assume.”

i stopped walking once he was a few feet from me. i sent him a small smile as i nodded. “yes, father, i am.”

“tell me, how’s everything going? anything you need to confess?”

the question caught me off guard but i shook it off. “um… . no.” this priest always gave me an odd feeling.

confession?

i always told myself to be careful with him. my eyes began to search everywhere else but his.

he began to inch towards me a bit more and stopped the moment i stepped backwards. “make sure you make a confession once a year. God won’t let dirty girls inside his paradise.”

with that, he sent me another creepy smile and left. he didn’t seem to be bothered by my furrowed brows and disgusted expressions.

all i did was shake my head in disappointment before looking down at the ground and mumbling, “damn creep.”

not long after, i entered my classroom and was immediately greeted by my catechist.

“valentina, how are you?”

i gave her an uneasy smile—which completely went over her head—and sat down in my usual seat. “good, thanks.”

class began ten minutes later. and for some reason i couldn’t get that boy out of my head.

i wonder if he’ll be there tomorrow.

i asked myself why that thought even appeared in my head. there was no way in hell i was going to walk myself to those apartments just to steal a little glance at him.

going there would be the same as walking right into death’s arms.

little did i know that meeting him would be worse.

masterlist

[aliendes]

One More Day

shy!yoongi, brother!namjoon, depressed!reader

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING! heavy angst, mentions of death/suicide, dark themes, mentions of alcohol and drug use, Joon is a straight up asshole I am so sorry (it gets better in the end), reader smokes cigarettes (if that bothers you?), depression/anxiety. This story is in no way meant to romanticize suicide, if you or someone you know is suffering, please call or text 1-800-273-8255.

Word count:  27837 (yikes I am actually sorry) Genre: Angst, fluff NSFW because of suicide mentions?

A/N: Did I write a Christmas story in the middle of July? Yes. Am I sorry? Also, yes. This is entirely unedited and was only meant to be like a 1k drabble. As you can see, it got away from me a little (a lot). I will eventually go back and edit, but I cannot be bothered right now. I’m so sorry for my shitty character development here, I was just trying to get this out of my brain and it just snowballed (hehe) into this monster.  If anyone is interested, I wouldn’t mind doing drabbles about this couple in the future! Send me an ask! This is a work of fiction. Any character names/likenesses are coincidence are are not meant to represent actual people.  **PLEASE READ!: Hi all! This is my first fic that I am posting to this blog. THANK YOU for reading this! If you like this story, I would REALLY appreciate it if you could reblog/comment on the fic. Also! Follow me if you’re interested in my writing. I am currently writing a multi chaptered dystopian AU and will be doing polls on my blog where readers can vote on a couple of aspects of the story. I hope you stick around!

Listened to: Be Kind (Marshmello & Halsey) & Waste It On Me (Steve Aoki & BTS) while writing this. 

You stood on the deck of your parents cabin, staring out at the frozen over lake, shrouded in darkness. You couldn’t remember what time it was, or really even what day it was, just that you needed to get away for awhile. Your breath was turning into white clouds around your face, and then drifting up into the atmosphere. It was calming in a way. Freezing, but calming. 

It was the middle of December, nearly Christmas, what used to be your favorite time of year. You and your mom, dad, and older brother Namjoon would come up to this cabin and spend two weeks at the end of every year. Your dad and brother would always find the tallest tree for the living room of the cabin, with it’s high vaulted ceilings. You and your mom would spend hours decorating the tree, always turning out like a Better Homes & Garden magazine cover. Your mom loved to decorate, and she was damn good at it. You and Namjoon would bake cookies together, despite your mom’s protests over Namjoon being in the kitchen. He was always a disaster waiting to happen. You can still taste the gingerbread like it was yesterday. You smiled slightly, remembering what Christmas used to be like. Now, Christmas was a shitty reminder of what used to be.

It’s been 7 years since the last time you were all together at this cabin. Nearly 6 years since your parents death, and 3 years since you last saw or spoke to your brother. You knew he was doing well, living it up in the big city of Seoul. He was a music producer, and you would hear about him and his accomplishments through friends of friends. You were proud of him. Not that he would ever believe that, and it’s not like you would ever have the chance to tell him.

For the last few years, you had been coming up to the cabin alone. You always took two weeks off work and spent that time trying to keep your parents spirits alive in the form of Christmas cookies and movies. It was your own way of coping with their absence. Namjoon found his ways of coping by blocking the memories out, you found yours in a glass of wine and a couple cigarettes out on this deck. Speaking of which, you should probably light one up now, you’ve been standing here for a while.

Just as you were reaching in your pocket for your lighter, you heard a snapping sound from the left of the desk, startling you in your place, cigarette still hanging from your chapped lips. You turned your head towards the noise, almost giving yourself whiplash. No one should be out here at this time, you thought to yourself. You pocketed your lighter and took the cigarette between your fingers, slowly walking towards the edge of the deck. Sue you, you had a curious mind. Namjoon always used to tell you it would get you killed one day. Not like you cared much anymore. 

“Holy shit!” you gasped, nearly throwing your cigarette, when you saw a figure walk out from between the trees lining your property and the one next to it. It was a man you didn’t recognize. You squint your eyes slightly to try and see better in the dark. He stepped closer to your with both hands raised in front of him as a way to placate you.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I -” he started, but trailed off almost like he forgot what he was going to say. You raised a brow at him, still unsure of the stranger. “I’m Min Yoongi, I live next door. I promise I’m not a creep or anything, I just noticed you standing out here for a while and wanted to make sure you weren’t locked out or something, I - I, yeah that sounded creepy. I’m sorry.” He rushed out the last words, looking almost sheepish. 

Cute.

You stood there for a second too long, and Yoongi, as you now knew him, looked almost like he was about to bolt back in the direction he came. “I - I’m sorry, I’ll g-”

“No, it’s ok.” You let out a deep sigh and chuckled darkly, no humor to be found. “You just startled me, is all.” You said with what you hoped was a small smile. It wasn’t, Yoongi noted, but he didn’t care, just glad you were responding at all.

Another beat passes, “... so are you alright - did you need help?” He drawled, unsure of where the conversation was headed. 

“No, no. This is my par- mine- my house. Well, not my permanent house, but you probably already knew that.” You stuttered. He must’ve realized the house next door to him was vacant 11 months out of the year, right?

 “Ah yeah, I kind of figured that out.” he took a hesitant step forward. When he saw you weren’t running for the hills, he slowly made his way into the illumination provided by the floodlights on the back porch. You took in his features now that you could see them better. He had bleach blonde hair that looked a little fried, but that suited him nicely, small, feline like brown eyes, and he currently wore a gummy smile that was quite endearing. Had you not been in a spiraling depression, you may have thought he was pretty handsome. He ran his hand through his golden locks, “This house is usually empty, I only notice it occupied around this time of year. I’m assuming it’s your vacation house? You said it was your parents place, right?” He took hesitant steps up to the deck.

So he caught that. Damn. “Was.” You stated simply. “It was my parents place. It’s mine now, I come here alone.” Yoongi knew that. He’s lived next door for 8 years now, on and off. Every Christmas for the last few years, you’d been alone. He wasn’t a creeper, but he did notice you smoking those nasty cigarettes out on this very deck, alone, every year. He remembers you used to come here with someone. A boyfriend maybe? It wasn’t his place to ask. 

He’s at the bottom of the steps that lead up to your deck, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. Pity? No, there’s no way he knows what’s going on in your mind. He hesitates a moment before - “Are you ok?” 

The question catches you off guard. Were you ok? You knew the answer was a big, fat no. But was that something you should share with him? A near stranger? Aside from the obvious questions you had, when was the last time someone asked you that? You couldn’t remember anyone caring enough about you in the last few years to even utter those words to you. The only people you interacted with were your coworkers, who didn’t give a shit about your personal life. All your boss cared about was that you got the job done. You almost wanted to trust this man, share with him how you’re feeling, God knows you need it. You’ve been staring at him for too long, he must think you’re crazy now. “Yeah. Yeah I’m good.” You mutter, looking anywhere but his eyes. 

“Look, it’s not really my place to pry, but you’ve been standing out here in the freezing cold for over an hour.” Had it really been that long? “Do you want to maybe go inside?”

“With you?” you asked, slightly startled at his proposition. 

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and you had a distant thought that he looked oddly adorable like that. “No! No, no. I mean unless you want to come to my house?” He half asked, slightly confused, shaking his head. “I just meant, you aren’t really dressed for the 3 degree weather, don’t you think you should head back inside?” 

Oh. He was just being nice. You weren’t used to this. Leave it to you to jump to weird conclusions. You cocked your head to the side, looking at him with a dumb look. “Yeah…” you trailed off. “I was actually just about to smoke a cigarette, then I’ll head inside.” He gave you another unreadable look, and slowly started to nod.

“O- ok then.” He seemed like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself.

“Do you smoke?”

“Oh no, I don’t. Thank you though.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at you, like he didn’t want to offend you.

“I’m not offended, I know most people think it’s a nasty habit.” You took the lighter back out of your front pocket and put the cigarette to your now very cold, very dry lips. “Want to sit with me?” You asked after you took your first drag of the cigarette.

Yoongi looked back towards his house, and then back at you. “Yeah, let me go grab a coat and I’ll be right back.” he stuttered out. You hadn’t even noticed he was only wearing jeans and a flannel. Poor guy, you’ve been staring stupidly at him for at least 15 minutes, he must be freezing by now. 

“Take your time.” You waved him off as he jogged briskly past the trees and shrubs. You watched him enter his back porch and saw a few lights flicker on, then off again. Taking another drag from your cigarette, you looked back out over the lake. Leaning your elbows on the deck railing, you realized you were, in fact, freezing in nothing but a long sleeve t-shirt and pajama pants. You didn’t intend to be out here this long, only meaning to smoke one cigarette and head back inside, only to lose track of time.

“Want to sit down?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of your reverie, slightly startling you. “Sorry - didn’t mean to scare you again” he laughed dryly. He pulled a couple of the deck chairs closer to the railing and sat down. It was then that you noticed he was now wearing a thick winter coat, and in his hands he held another coat, and what looked suspiciously like a blanket. You raised an eyebrow at him, but slowly walked towards the chair, holding your cigarette away from Yoongi, respectful of others' distaste for the smell.

As you sat down in the chair to Yoongi’s right, he dully shook the coat he was holding in your direction with a raised brow. A silent offering. “Thanks.” You muttered lamely, taking the coat from him. It was thick, and smelled citrus-y. Oranges? With maybe a hint of cloves. It smelled manly, wrapping you in his scent when you threw it over your shoulders. 

“No problem” he gruffed out. His deep voice was soothing your cold soul at the moment, a feeling you haven’t had in a long time. “I- I brought a blanket” he hesitates, slowly unfolding the blanket, watching your face to make sure what he was about to do was alright, “is this ok?” he asks as he set the unfolded blanket over yours and his legs. You nod at him, taking another drag from your cigarette. Once the blanket is situated, he grabs one of the legs of your chair and pulls it closer to his, so the blanket drapes all the way over you. You offer him a small smile, and then turn your head to blow the smoke in the other direction. “I don’t mind the smoke, you know. My older brother smokes like a train, I’m used to it.” 

You smirk at him. “Are you implying I smoke like a train?”

“N-no! No, of course not - that’s not, that isn’t” he starts to stutter, shaking his head.

“Relax, Yoongi. I was kidding.” You let out as you exhale your last bit of smoke, putting your cigarette out on the deck floor. You should probably bring an ashtray up here with you next time you visit, which was becoming more and more infrequent as time went on. You used to come up here in the summer with Namjoon, but those days were long gone. 

He ducked his head slightly, the flood light illuminating the side of his face from behind him. He really was beautiful, you noticed. A small, slanted nose, with cute puffy cheeks. They were a little red from being out in the cold, but cute nonetheless.  

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that..” he starts to trail off, realizing he doesn’t know your name.

“YN. Sorry - my name is YN.” 

“YN.” He tries it out on his tongue. He likes the way it sounds. “Pretty.” He noted, face heating after he realized what he said. You smiled at him, the first genuine smile he’s seen all night and he realizes he likes it, and wants to see more of it, preferably in the near future. He gives you a gummy smile in return. “What brings you out here, at -” he quickly pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at the time, “- nearly midnight?”

“Oh you know, just dealing with life.” You glance out into the distance, back at that damned lake. Yoongi must have sensed your distress, because he is quickly switching the subject.

“It’s really pretty out here this time of year.” He states, lamely, looking out at the lake with you. “The lake freezes over in November, makes for some really beautiful scenery.” 

“Yeah… I know. I’ve been coming here with my family since I was 8.” You didn’t take your focus away from the lake as you spoke. 

“What… happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” Yoongi quickly read the expression on your face and added, “You totally don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s ok actually. I haven’t really talked about it in a while.” You chanced a glance at Yoongi, his expression serious, focused completely on you. You were taken aback for a brief moment, wondering what was making you trust this man, before you went on, “My parents died almost 6 years ago. We used to come out here as a family every Christmas for the last two weeks of the year. I still make the trip every year to keep their memory, alive? I guess. That sounds kind of stupid saying it out loud.”

“No it doesn’t,” Yoongi stated simply, “That makes perfect sense. You feel closer to them when you’re here, right?” You slowly nodded, still staring into his deep brown orbs. “Look, at the risk of making myself seem like a peeping Tom, I noticed you used to come here with a man, but I haven’t seen him in a while. Is everything ok with…?” His question trailed off. So he has noticed you before.

“Namjoon,” you said, turning your head away, “my brother.” 

Your brother. He didn’t expect that. From what little glimpses he saw of the two of you, you always seemed like a bickering couple. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” 

“No it’s fine, you’re very observant, you know. How long have you lived there, exactly?” You asked, turning back to look at the sweet man beside you, gesturing towards his home.

“Almost 8 years. Inherited the place from my grandmother. The first few years I was only here on and off, still living mostly in Daegu. Fully moved in about 5 years ago.” His expression changed, looking like he was reminiscing on the past.

“So you must’ve seen me and Namjoon coming together before. He hasn’t come up here with me in three years. We don’t - we’re not really on good terms. He lives a couple hours away.” You left it at that, not really wanting to indulge in the reason why you weren’t on good terms. That was a conversation for another day. Your stomach fluttered at the thought of talking to Yoongi again. You were confused at the feeling for a moment before Yoongi was speaking.

“I get that. Me and my brother barely speak either. I can’t even remember the last time I saw him to be honest.” He gives you a sad smile, which you return. You’re unsure why you feel like you’ve known Yoongi longer than an hour, but he makes you feel warm in the middle of the harsh winter. You noticed his cheeks were becoming increasingly red and cursed yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“Do you, uh, do you want to go inside? I can make hot chocolate, or something…” you trail off dumbly. 

“Uh, y-yeah that sounds nice”, he faltered, grabbing the blanket draped over you, folding it neatly before ascending from his chair. You follow after him, moving towards the back door of your cabin. You didn’t realize just how cold you were until you opened the sliding glass door and a wall of heat hit you in the face. 

“Wow, I must have been out there a while. I’m freezing.” You chirped as you slid the door closed after Yoongi stepped inside the threshold. 

Yoongi pegged you with a questioning look, and at first you thought he must think you’re insane, before he said, “If you want, you can show me where you keep the hot chocolate and you can go take a shower, or something?” he faltered before adding, “I mean, if that’s ok with you, I know you barely know me-”

You cut him off before he could start babbling again, giving him a soft smile. “That would be really nice actually,” you said, leading him to the kitchen. “I’m not sure what all I have stocked up here, but you should find everything you need in the tea cabinet, above the stove,” you pointed to the stove, “and the mugs are in the cabinet next to the fridge. Feel free to make whatever you’d like. I’ll be down the hall, second door on the right if you need me.” You smiled at him again, causing him to internally melt at the sight, “Thank you, Yoongi.” The sincerity in your tone hurt him. He could tell that you haven’t been thankful for anyone or anything in a while and he didn’t like that. 

“Of course,” he croaked, I’d do anything to make you smile, he wanted to add, but didn’t. He just watched you trudge off to what he presumed was the restroom. He mentally slapped himself. Why was he acting like an idiot in front of this girl he hardly knew? He knew it was because he has seen your sad eyes staring out at the lake for the past three days now, and years before that. Watched you stand, emotionless, wondering what was going through your mind. Now that he’s seen what a smile looks like on your face, he never wants it to disappear again. He’s too empathetic, a trait he inherited from his mother, sometimes to a fault. But he didn’t care right now. Right now, he just wanted to make you happy, even if it was just for tonight. 

You let the hot water fall over your face, reveling in the way the steam was making your muscles feel. Even though your body was relaxing, your mind was starting to real. You think it’s December 21st, just a few days before Christmas. You’d arrived at the cabin three days prior, and would remain here for another week and a half. Usually, when you came to the cabin alone, you spent those two weeks wallowing in self pity, drinking yourself to near death. This was the first time you’ve had any interaction at the cabin in three years. Thinking back to three years ago, you recall your lowest moment at the cabin. The reason for the downfall of yours and Namjoon’s relationship.

It was Christmas Eve, and you had just finished off a bottle of your favorite wine. The fireplace was going, and some sappy Lifetime movie was playing in the background. Not that you were paying attention in the least. You and Joon had just fought over staying an extra day. You wanted to stay, spend some time together since you didn’t get to see him often, but he wanted to go back to Seoul to his girlfriend, Yuna. You never really liked her, but that’s beside the point. He was in his room, probably on the phone with her if the soft whispers were anything to go by, while you were on the couch in the living room. You had just poured yourself another glass of wine and were staring out the large bay windows that had a beautiful view of the lake. You used to love that lake when you were a kid. You and Joon would swing on the tire swing attached to the tree that was partially submerged in the lake when your parents would take you up here in the summers. In the winter, you and Joon would walk along the edge of the frozen water, admiring the beauty of it, listening to nature. Namjoon always did love all the little animals he would find down there. But now, as you looked out at the dark abyss of a lake, it only haunted you with memories of your parents.

You had contemplated it before, but was never brave enough to act. At that moment, though, you really didn’t think there was anything left to live for. Everything had fallen apart. Your parents were gone, your brother hated you, and you isolated yourself from all your friends so long ago, you really didn’t have anyone left. All you could think about, as tears streamed down your face, was how Joon wouldn’t care if you were gone. Your parents weren’t there anymore to care. You would be doing him a favor, right? He didn’t want to be around you, so if you weren’t here, he wouldn’t have to worry about your nagging anymore.

Shaking your head, you’re brought back into the present. Were there tears streaming down your face, or was it the water from the shower? The choked up feeling in your throat pointed towards the former. Great. Could Yoongi hear you? You hoped not. God, you hoped not. He seemed like such a sweet guy, kind and soft. You didn’t want to bring him down in your spiral and potentially scare away the only human interaction you’ve had in a while. 

Little did you know, Yoongi did you hear you. He had finished making hot chocolates a few minutes before he heard soft whimpers coming from the hallway. He immediately made his way towards the noise, realising that once he reached the bathroom door, he could hear you quietly sniffling in the shower. His heart sank at the sound. He didn’t knock, knew he shouldn't. But God, did he want to. Wanted to pull you into his arms, tell you that everything was going to be ok, and see that gorgeous smile again. But it wasn’t his place, and he knew that. So he walked back to the kitchen, solemn expression on his face, and waited patiently for you to calm yourself. 

Yoongi was unsure why he felt the need to comfort you. He hardly knew you, apart from what he’s seen of you over the years. Still, those glimpses weren’t really telling of what kind of person you were. You seemed kind, warm-hearted. You let him into your home, or your parent’s home, he guessed, when you saw that he was cold. You trusted him enough to dawdle about in your kitchen while you showered. That had to take some real trust, what if he was some psycho stalker? He wasn’t, of course. But you didn’t know that. 

The trust you put in him told him one of two things - you we’re either a very trusting person, or you had no fear. The latter made him feel sick. He knew you were going through a lot, but it’s been years since your parents death, you should be feeling somewhat better, right? No, he knew that wasn’t true. The pain of losing someone you love never goes away, he knew that better than anyone, and he didn’t even know the circumstances surrounding their death, or the fallout between you and your brother. Either way, when he looked in your eyes, he saw a sad, broken girl. He’s been that sad, broken person before, and he wanted to help you.

So he waited at your kitchen island, rewarming your mug of hot chocolate every five or so minutes, until you finally felt ready to come out of the bathroom. 

As you slowly towel dried your hair, you stared at your reddened eyes in the bathroom mirror. You knew Yoongi was probably waiting in the kitchen for you, with long cold drinks, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of this handsome stranger with your tears. You splashed some cool water on your face and applied some moisturizer to attempt to even out the redness of your face.

After you were satisfied with the puffiness, you threw on your pajama shorts and t-shirt you had brought with you from your room, and left your hair wrapped up in a towel. Who were you trying to impress, really? You barely knew Yoongi, despite the fact that you felt safe around him. You knew at the end of these two weeks you would go your separate ways and probably not speak again until next Christmas, if you even made it to next Christmas. Damn, why couldn’t you keep the morbid thoughts away for one night? 

Hesitantly, you made your way out of the bathroom and down the hallway, where you could hear the clinking of glasses coming from the kitchen. Curious, you sped up a little, until you reached the open floor plan kitchen of your cabin, shooting Yoongi a questioning look.

“Oh! Sorry - I just saw that you have some dishes in the sink, I just wanted to help. Sorry.” He looked sheepish, and you thought it was rather cute. 

“Thanks,” you offered shyly, feeling slightly embarrassed he saw your mess, and sat at one of the barstools in front of the kitchen island, “Did you find the drinks ok?” 

“Oh yeah - they cooled down a bit, so I warmed it up in the microwave.”

You smiled at his thoughtfulness, taking the warm mug from him. Yoongi knew that you had been crying, could see the puffiness in your eyes, but seeing you smile, even slightly, made his eyes light up.He watched as you rose from your seat, mug in hand, and made your way around the kitchen island. For a second, he thought you were going to approach him, but you walked right past him towards the fridge. You reached your short arms up and grabbed at a bottle sitting on top of the refrigerator, pulling it down and setting it on the counter. He watched on curiously as you opened the, almost empty, bottle of rum and poured some into your mug. You turned around, raising an eyebrow at his questioning look, “want some?” 

“Oh, uh, no thank you. It’s really late”, he advised hesitantly. He didn’t want to upset you, didn’t want to overstep bounds as you were an adult after all, but he was also questioning your current state of mind.

“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, if any of this makes you feel uncomfortable, you can leave. I’m trying my best to keep my head above water right now, both figuratively and literally.” You don’t know why you just said that to your neighbor, but you did and there was no taking it back. You removed your gaze from Yoongi’s, slowly walking towards your living room to have a seat on the plush couch. You never got around to redecorating the place after your parents death. It was almost like taking a step back into the past when you came up here. 

Yoongi’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his expression, following behind you, almost forgetting his drink but grabbing it at the last second. “YN, do you want to talk about it? I know we just met, but I want you to know I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Someone to listen, make you hot chocolate, whatever you need.” He gave you a sad smile and sat across from you on the loveseat, setting his mug down on the coffee table. 

You took another sip of your spiked hot chocolate, reveling in the burn at the back of your throat, before following Yoongi and setting it on the coffee table. “Why are you so nice to me? You barely know me,” you questioned him, pinning him with a serious look. 

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping my bounds right now, but I know what it’s like to be depressed,” he looked up from his feet, resting his hands on his knees as he spoke, “I lost my mother when I was 15. I’m not saying by any means that I know what you’re going through, but when I lost my mom I felt like I had no one to talk to. I don’t know you, at least, not yet. But if you give me the chance, I would like to try? We are neighbors after all.” His momentary burst of confidence falters as he plays with his fingers and looks down at the carpet. 

Your gaze softened at the absolute sincerity in his tone. Was this real life? You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you didn’t pass out drunk on the deck and dreamt up some hot stranger to ease your worries. You let out a breathy laugh, absent of any humor. You thought for a second, did you really want to unload this baggage on Yoongi? No, not right now. It’s better to keep things vague, that way there is no one to hurt if you’re gone. “Yoongi,” you started, causing his head to snap up to meet your gaze, teeth worrying his bottom lip, “You seem like a really nice guy,” Yoongi could sense a ‘but’ coming, preparing himself for rejection. It’s not like he isn’t used to it, being the shy guy in a small town he never really had the chance to talk to many people. “But I can’t promise you that I’ll even be around in a week. I don’t want to get attached to someone, it’ll just be harder in the end.”

That was not what Yoongi was expecting. His heart dropped down to his toes. He felt his stomach flip. Did you really just imply what he thinks you did? It didn’t matter if he barely knew you, you needed to know that someone cared for you. But he knew he needed to tread lightly here. He slowly got up from his spot on the loveseat and made his way over to you, crouching down so he could meet your downcast eyes. His hands were clasped together, but the moment you lifted your gaze to meet his, he unclasped both hands and held them out to you, wanting you to make the first move, conscious you might still feel uncomfortable with him. Hesitantly, you reached out one hand, which he grasped in both of his much larger ones. His warmth instantly soothing your cold bones.

“YN,” he whispered, barely audible, but you heard him, “I don’t know what your life is like back, wherever you’re from, but you’re here now. I’m here for you, and I would really, really, like to get to know you better. If you can’t promise me a week, can you at least promise me tomorrow?” He didn’t want to scare you away, dreading what might happen if he does. He saw unshed tears glistening in your doe eyes before continuing, “I’ll come over, every day, and we can spend Christmas together. You don’t have to be alone YN.”

The thought of not having to spend Christmas alone was enticing. The last time you spent Christmas with someone and was coherent enough to remember it, was four years ago, when you and Joon came up here. The last time you were up here, before that dreaded Christmas Eve three years ago. You wanted, really wanted, to take Yoongi up on his offer. But you felt like you owed it to him to explain why you were like this. Why you weren’t able to get close to anyone, why you felt like this was a bad idea. You thought, if you tell him what happened, about your demons, maybe it would scare him away and save him any future pain. With that in mind, you spoke, ““That fucking lake. It’s caused me so much pain, and now it’s like a sick metaphor of my life,” it was barely a whisper that left your lips. Yoongi could tell whatever you were about to say was heavy. He waited patiently, holding your sad gaze, silently letting you know he was listening. “They died in that lake. It was raining, my dad didn’t see the deer in front of them on the bridge leading into town. They had come up here for a weekend getaway without me and my brother, which they rarely even did. We found out two days later when they didn’t show up for work.” 

Yoongi instantly remembered exactly what you were talking about. How could he not have put two and two together? About six years ago, he was commuting back and forth from the cabin to Daegu for work. He was on his way up here for the weekend when the roads were blocked off at the bridge, he saw the overturned car in the embankment of the lake. Everyone in this small town talked about the couple who drowned in the lake for years after the accident. He even heard about how their child had tried to drown themselves in the same lake a few years ago…. Oh no. 

“YN.”

“It’s ok Yoongi. I don’t want sympathies, I don’t want anymore ‘I’m sorry”’s. You offered to listen, so I’m getting it all out.” You looked down, becoming hyper focused on your hand clasped in Yoongi’s. “After they died, me and Namjoon would come up here for Christmas, attempting to feel more like a family. It never did, we would just fight when we were up here, nonsensical arguments that drove a wedge between us. We kept trying though, until three years ago.”He remembers that, too. He would always see you and that guy, Namjoon, arguing on the deck, or you crying out by the tree swing. You stopped, unsure if you should continue. You chanced a glance at Yoongi, his dark eyes watching you with - it wasn’t pity - compassion? His gaze made you want to continue, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. “I tried to drown myself three Christmas’ ago. In that damn lake.” 

Yoongi’s made an inaudible gasp, and he hoped beyond hope you didn’t notice. He wasn’t even sure why he was shocked, he connected the dots a few moments ago. He knew it was you. “YN. I - I,” he faltered. 

Not quite meeting his gaze yet, you muttered, “It’s fine Yoongi. Now that lake it like this stupid fucking metaphor for my life. I ebb and flow, just like the waters in that lake throughout the year. I have my ups and downs. Then, every Christmas, the lake freezes over. It’s always hard for me to get through this time of year, especially without Joon.” You felt a single tear roll down your already puffy cheeks. You sniffled slightly, rubbing your nose on the sleeve of your shirt with your free arm.

Yoongi stood up from his crouching position slowly, his grip on your hand still tight. He hesitantly took a seat next to you, holding your hand in his lap.  He could tell you were trying to scare him away, make him realise you were too broken to be fixed. He was determined to keep you talking, get all your baggage laid out on the table so he could assure you none of it mattered to him. “YN, what happened with Joon?” He whispered, close to your face. He didn’t want to risk you building that wall back up, even if he didn’t exactly want to hear the answer.

“He found me in the lake. Freezing, nearly dead.” Tears were rolling down your face now, and you felt Yoongi’s soft fingers rubbing soothing circles on your wrist. You looked up, gaze focused on the wall behind Yoongi. “Brought me to the hospital, checked me in, and left. I didn’t hear from him for a few months after that. When I finally did he texted me and told me that he didn’t think he could handle my ‘destructive behavior’, and offered to pay for my treatment”, you murmured that last part, voice faltering as you sucked in a shaky breath. “I haven’t seen him since that night, Yoongi.” At this, you finally looked into Yoongi’s eyes, your own crinkled in pain, tears freely falling down your face, and Yoongi’s heart broke. No. It shattered into a million tiny pieces. He barely knew you, but he wanted to do everything in his power to make you feel loved, wanted to show you that someone cared about you. You weren’t going to scare him away with your demons. 

Yoongi scooted a little closer to you on the couch, releasing your hand in the process, and gathered your shrunken form into his arms and hugged you close. A beat passed before you hugged back, uncertain if you should. But his warmth had you melting into him, you chest heaving with pitiful sobs. The hug was a little awkward, with you both sitting on the couch, so Yoongi brought his leg up and slotted it behind you, moving even closer to you. Yoongi’s ambiguous nature long gone as he rubbed a large hand up and down your back, pushing his face into your hair, shushing you. You sat there, in his embrace, for what felt like hours, but was realistically probably only 5 minutes. When your sobs started to slow down, Yoongi pulled back slightly, arms still wrapped firmly around you, looking you in the eye, “YN-” he started, but you cut him off before he could finish. 

With a small sniffle and watery eyes, you whispered, “I’m broken Yoongi. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t want to be here. I only cause others pain.”

He seemed confused by your statement at first. His dark eyes searching your own for a second before he whispered, “I see you here, year after year. I can tell YN, I can see it. You’re broken by what happened, but you are not a broken person. You’re so beautiful honey, and from what I’ve seen of you tonight, you’re kind and worthy. Worthy of love, worthy of life, and worthy of happiness.” Your eyes started to well up with tears again and Yoongi gave you a sad smile, thumb reaching up and caressing your cheek to wipe them away. “I didn’t come up to your deck tonight because I thought you locked yourself out of your house. I came over because I’ve seen the torment in your eyes, and I’ve been there before. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through this alone. I wanted to be here for you, regardless of how well I know you. Maybe I can get to know you in the process, b-but I want you to be ok, YN.” He softly whispered the last part softly, dark eyes starting to well with his own unshed tears.

“You barely know me Yoongi. Your words are sweet, but I’m not worthy. I’ve been drowning myself in liquor, killing myself with cigarettes, and pushing everyone in my life away for the last seven years. I’m a shit human.” You look down, hand reaching up to gently grasp Yoongi’s wrist, slowly pulling his hand from your face. The hurt in his eyes was hard to miss. 

“I barely know you, but yet I want to know more. Doesn’t that say something? You think you’re not worthy, but I’m right here, telling you I think you’re interesting, lovable, and funny. I want to get to know you.” He pulled his hand, ever so gently, away from your grasp, placing it on your lower back to pull you against his chest. “You matter YN.”

You let out another quiet sob into Yoongi’s flannel shirt, inhaling his soft citrus-y scent that has been a calming presence to you all night. “Promise me tomorrow, YN. Promise me you’ll stay tomorrow, talk to me, get to know me a little more,” he mumbled into your hair, “all I’m asking for is tomorrow.”

You thought to yourself for a moment. You could do that. You could promise one more day. Even if you had to suffer through it, at least Yoongi would be there with you. Inhaling a shaky breath, you gasped out an, “ok.”

Yoongi smiled to himself, a sad, small smile. He was happy you were going to give yourself a chance, even if it was under the guise of giving him a chance. He was determined to make you see life was worth living.

You woke up with a splitting headache. Was it from the copious amounts of alcohol you consumed yesterday, or from all the crying you did? You didn’t know. All you knew was the sunlight streaming in from your bedroom window was going to be the death of you. You let out a weak groan as you rolled over, pulling the soft duvet cover over your head. You didn’t want to get out of bed, but you knew you needed to get some water, or your headache was only going to get worse.

Throwing the covers off yourself, you slowly sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You grabbed your phone from your bedside table, noting that it was December 22. Three more days until Christmas. As you looked at your phone, you noticed your arms were covered by a thick, wool like fabric. This wasn’t your pajamas, what were you wearing? You stood up and walked over to the floor length mirror on the back of your bedroom door, still littered with stickers from that time you and your friend Mina visited the cabin when you were 14. 

As you gazed at yourself in the mirror, the events of last night came rushing back to you. Yoongi. You were wearing his coat that he so kindly brought over to you last night while you were out on your deck. Yoongi sat with you while you cried into his shirt for an hour after you had spilled your life story to him, letting all your monsters out to play. You could see the remnants of your sobbing on your face, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. After you calmed down a bit, Yoongi wrapped you in his jacket and carried you to your bed, shaky and cold. He laid you down gently, pulling the covers over your sleepy form and whispered, “Tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’re going to get to know each other better” before he left. Too tired to speak, you rolled over and fell asleep. 

Your face heated with embarrassment. A man you hardly knew took care of you last night, carried you to your bed. This wasn’t like you. He hugged you last night! You haven’t had any human contact in nearly three years. The last person you hugged was your therapist at the rehab facility, and even that was awkward and a little forced. At the thought of him hugging you, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, remembering how you melted into his warm chest last night. You didn’t realize just how touch starved you’d become in the last few years, but the evidence was right there. Shaking off your humiliation, you shrugged off Yoongi’s jacket and rummaged through your suitcase for some clothes. Surely, you’d feel better after a shower and some breakfast. Right?

After rinsing the previous night from your skin, you dressed in some sweats and a t-shirt, not really bothering to do your hair. You didn’t plan on leaving the cabin today, at most you would sit out on the deck again. Heading back into your room, you hear a soft knock coming from your living room. At first you thought you were hearing things, until another knock, slightly louder, sounded through the cabin. 

As you made your way down the hallway and into the living room, you saw a smiling Yoongi through the sliding glass door standing on your back deck. His arms were full, with… what did he have? Bags? You rushed forward past the couches and unlocked and slid the door open.

“Good morning - er, I guess afternoon now?” Yoongi stuttered a little awkwardly, albeit friendly. He stumbled through your back door and made his way over to the kitchen island. You watched his back as he set down a couple of bags and a blanket on the marble countertop. You tilted your head at him as he turned around to face you. “I, um, I thought we could spend the day together if - if that’s ok with you?” he lilted his words at the end. 

You remember the promise you made to Yoongi last night as you stared at him, mouth agape. One more day. You promised him today. You were slightly surprised that Yoongi made good on his promise, half expecting him to bolt last night and never speak to you again after everything you unloaded on him, yet here he was, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“What’s in the bags?” You questioned as you moved towards the kitchen, blinking dumbly at Yoongi. 

“Well, I noticed last night that you didn’t have much food in your fridge, mostly just liquor and soda,” your cheeks heated as he called you on your bad habits, “so I brought over some groceries. I thought we could make lunch and since it’s a little too cold outside, we could set up a picnic in the living room.” he offered, gesturing to the blanket sitting on your countertop. “If that’s ok with you, of course.” He sounded a little abashed, having not gotten your number last night, he wasn’t able to see if you were ok with all of this beforehand. He was taking a leap of faith here, hoping that you would take him up on his offer.

You smiled shyly at him, “that sounds really nice, Yoongi, thank you.” Not having a drop of alcohol in your system was making your normal, shy self emerge from the mask you usually wear, shrouded behind a layer of liquor. 

Yoongi offered you a gummy smile, showing off his perfect teeth. His smile was warm, inviting, much like his scent. You were slowly realizing that you quite enjoyed his company. Maybe a little more than you should have.

You and Yoongi had spent the afternoon cooking and chatting in your kitchen, making a stew from a recipe Yoongi had in one of his grandmother’s old cookbooks. You discovered that he was a natural in the kitchen, moving through the recipes with ease. He told you stories about how he used to come out here to visit his grandma and she would always cook with him in the very cabin he lived in now. He told you how he inherited it from her 8 years ago when she passed away, and how he quit his office job in Daegu to move out here and become a freelance writer. You admired his bravery, being able to leave his life behind and take a risk moving out here. Part of you wished you were able to take that jump, you truly loved this cabin, and most of the memories that came with it. 

Now, you and Yoongi were sitting on his blanket, in front of your fireplace, eating the stew the two of you made together. “So where are you from, YN?” Yoongi asked as he finished off his bowl, setting it down on the hardwood floor. 

“Busan,” you stated simply. “I still live there. I usually only make the trip out here for Christmas now. I used to come up during the summers, too, but haven’t in a while.”

“And what do you do, in Busan?” he asked, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows, full focus on you.

“I work at an animal shelter. Nothing fancy. I tend to prefer the company of animals, rather than humans,” you offered somewhat abashedly. You were telling the truth. You had always wanted to become a veterinarian, ever since you could talk, really. But you just didn’t have the time, or the money to go to school, so you found the next best option.

“I definitely get that,” Yoongi agreed, “I have a calico cat at home. It gets lonely up here sometimes, and he helps keep me sane.” He smiled thinking about the furball he adopted a couple years ago, probably resting peacefully in his favorite sunbathing spot back at home. 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of a cat and Yoongi filed that away for later. “Really? What’s his name?”

Yoongi was more than happy to indulge in your sudden curiosity, happy he found something you’re actually interested in. “Mochi. He’s a male calico, I hear they’re pretty rare. I found him at the local shelter in town a couple years back. He’s a sweet little thing.”

Your conversation continued throughout the afternoon much the same. You told Yoongi about your dreams to become a vet that would probably never come to fruition, and in turn he told you about his previous job in Daegu as a marketing analyst. You shared with each other your big (and small) dreams and aspirations, discussed TV shows you both liked, and talked about different recipes you enjoy. 

You were actually enjoying yourself and spending time with Yoongi, something you really didn’t expect to happen when you were on the drive up here a few days ago. You haven’t really had a friend to talk to for a long time, your only close friend Mina having moved to the United States five years ago, you never really made the effort to make any new ones. Yoongi was nice, you thought to yourself as he talked more about his cat, you wouldn’t mind being friends with him. 

By dinner time you were both starting to get hungry again, so you suggested ordering take out while you both cleaned up the mess in the kitchen from earlier.  You called the chicken place you knew of in town, while Yoongi started loading the dishwasher. “Hey YN?” you heard from the kitchen.

“Yes?” You half shouted back, walking down the hallway towards Yoongi. 

“Where are your dish- oh nevermind, found them!” He shouted back as you walked into the kitchen. He stood up straight after shutting the dishwasher, sighing and wiping his hands down the front of his jeans. “Dishes are done, food is ordered. What do you say we watch some Christmas movies?” 

For the rest of the night, you and Yoongi sat in front of the TV, watching sappy Lifetime movies, eating chicken and drinking beer. It was probably the most fun you’ve had in quite a few years, and you were really thankful for his company. At the end of the night, you and Yoongi exchanged phone numbers with a promise that you would give Yoongi one more day, at least, to get to know you better. You agreed, and Yoongi left with one final gummy smile and wave of his hand. 

You sighed, rubbing your hand down the front of your face. Having Yoongi here was a great distraction, but now that he’s gone and you can hear the faint sound of Christmas music playing on the credits of some crappy movie, reality was starting to sink in. After these two weeks were over, you’d return to Busan, Yoongi-less, and have to resume your normal life again. A life you weren’t satisfied with. A life you knew you didn’t want to continue living. Being here made you feel like that life didn’t exist anymore, like you were almost, happy? But you knew that it would all be over soon and everything would hurt again. You didn’t want to let yourself get wrapped up in Yoongi because only bad things could come of it, but he was making it really, really hard. You could see yourself falling for Yoongi, allowing him to make you happy, but you couldn’t. You had way too much baggage, you would never be the happy go-lucky girl you were in your teens again. You would always live with this depression, with these demons. 

As you changed into your pajamas, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your eyes were sunken in, your skin was pale, and your hair had seen better days. You knew you hadn’t been taking great care of yourself, but you didn’t think it had gotten this bad. What did Yoongi see in you anyways? Your life was a wreck and you looked like it, too. You sighed to yourself, running a brush through your hair. You promised Yoongi one more day, so you were going to make it through tomorrow, at least.

December 23. Two more days until Christmas. You woke up feeling a little lighter this morning after having spent yesterday with Yoongi, but you also had a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve never really been one to believe in superstitions, but for some reason, you had a strong feeling something bad was going to happen soon. You tried to shake off the feeling. You had woken up early this morning, just before sunrise and decided to take a steaming shower.

After your shower, you got dressed in comfy clothes and decided to sit out on the deck and smoke for a bit. It was still early in the morning, the sun still on the horizon. It really was beautiful out here. You had the perfect view of the lake from your deck. It faced towards the east, giving you a gorgeous view of the sunset just above the frozen lake. The colors of the sky were so pretty this time of day, oranges mixing with pretty pinks, you felt like you were on set for a romance movie. 

There was a low fog rolling onto the embankment from the frozen lake. It almost looked like dry ice, white billows of smoke swirling in the slight morning breeze. Admiring the landscape, you took a cigarette out of your pack, and slid your lighter out of your pocket. The sun was just barely starting to pass over the mountains in the east. You shivered a little as you lit up your cigarette, taking a deep inhale of smoke. You instantly felt at ease, the weird feeling from earlier dissipating with the sharp exhale of smoke. 

Yoongi hadn’t gone to sleep yet, and was typing on his laptop, Mochi in his lap, on his sofa. He spent a majority of the day over at your cabin yesterday and spent all night trying to get caught up with work. As a freelance writer, he made his own hours, but he wanted to make sure he was going to meet his next deadline, coming up in a few weeks. 

He gently closed his laptop and stretched his arms up into the air, cracking a few joints in the process. The noise startled Mochi and he shot up out of Yoongi’s lap, across the kitchen floor. “Sorry, buddy,” Yoongi mumbled, sleep thick in his voice. He watched as Mochi slid across the linoleum and jumped up onto the window sill above the sink. Yoongi looked out of the window curiously, eyes catching on a figure. He stood up from his spot on the sofa slowly, making his way towards the window, mindful of Mochi this time.

From his kitchen window, Yoongi had a perfect view of you standing on your deck smoking a cigarette. He watched as you took a deep inhale every couple of minutes and exhaled white swirls of smoke through your nose. The sun was just beginning to rise and the light was catching beautifully on the planes of your face. Yoongi took a moment to admire you, since he hasn’t really had the chance before. You were always intently watching him, waiting for his next move, almost like you were afraid he would leave, never quite giving in to his friendship.

The light shone over your features beautifully, highlighting your sharp cheekbones and sunken in eyes. Yoongi noticed you looked a little thin, he wasn’t sure if that had to do with heredity or something more sinister, but he tried not to dwell on it. Long eyelashes flutter over your cheeks everytime you close your eyes, basking in the sunlight. Your fingers, long and slender, held the cigarette so delicately. You seemed so gentle, so ethereal, he wonders why the world had to be so cruel to you. What did you do to deserve the foul things that have happened to you? Nothing, you didn’t do anything. You were just delt a bad hand at life. 

He watched as your long hair fluttered around your face in the breeze. It looks like you just washed it, he thought, you must be cold in the crisp morning air. With one last exhale of smoke, you put your cigarette out on the railing of your deck. Yoongi smirked to himself when he saw the small pout form on your lips. How could someone be so beautiful, yet so broken? Yoongi wasn’t sure why he felt this strong urge to protect you, to prevent any further harm coming to you, but he knew that he would do everything in his power to make sure you felt cared for. He was drawn to you, in a way he has never been drawn to another person. It both scared and excited him and sent butterflies through his stomach. He took one last glance at you through the window and decided it would be best if he got some rest before trekking back over to your cabin later. 

The rest of your morning went by relatively smoothly, having made breakfast after coming inside from your morning smoke. You cooked yourself some eggs and toast and then decided to check some emails on your laptop you brought with you. You saw a couple of emails from your boss, asking about adoption paperwork that he couldn’t find on your desk. You emailed him back quickly with the forms you had stored in your files, before powering off your computer, done with work for now. You moved the laptop from the top of your thighs to the nightstand next to your bed and leaned back against the headboard. You folded your arms behind your head and glanced around the room, taking in your childhood surroundings. 

The walls of your bedroom were still a pastel pink color with sponged on white clouds reaching up to the ceiling. You had a vivid memory of helping your mom paint the clouds when you were 8 years old. She would laugh at you everytime you would pout because the cloud didn’t come out exactly how you wanted it to. 

Across from your full size bed, was a white dresser with claw feet that still contained some old summer clothes from when you would visit during your breaks from school, probably a few sizes too small now. Along the side of the dresser and the white full length mirror on the back of your door, were stickers from your favorite bands when you were a teenager. You and Mina had collected them throughout the school year and would stick them on when you arrived for the summer. You smiled at the memories this room brought back. This was the reason you kept returning here every year, you tell yourself. To remember the times when you were happy and loved life. 

You let out a deep sigh and sunk back onto your mattress further, eyes feeling droopy. When your head hit the soft pillow, you stared up at the ceiling, still white because your mom said painting the ceiling pink would have made the room feel claustrophobic. There were still little pieces of sticky tape stuck to the stucco from when you had plastered glow in the dark stars and planets all over the ceiling, long since gone now. You never updated anything in the house, bought new furniture, or moved anything around. It would feel wrong, you thought. It wouldn’t feel like home anymore if you made changes. 

You hadn’t even entered the master bedroom, where your parents slept, since they passed. You know that Namjoon has, having gone through some of their belongings in the years since their death, but you never could bring yourself to do it. Joon had also gone through his childhood things in his room, just across the hall from you, taking what he cared for back to Seoul with him. You wondered what was left in there, too tired to actually get up and check. As you reminisced on your cabin, sleep began to take over, and eventually you fell asleep to the slow hum of the heater.

You sat up straight in bed, clutching your shirt, breathing heavy. What was that noise? Ding ding. You let out a breath of relief. It’s just the doorbell. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, briefly glancing at the clock on your side table. 4:03 pm. How long did you sleep?

As you got up to answer the door you caught your reflection in the mirror, straightening your bed head out a little. As you made your way to the front of the house, you heard soft knocking on the door. “Coming, coming!” you yelled out to whoever was on the other side. When you arrived at the front door, you looked out the glass pane next the door, finding Yoongi standing there on your front porch. He was holding a - duffle bag? You squint your eyes in confusion, but open the door anyways. 

“Hi YN!” Yoongi starts, before taking in your appearance. You were wearing what looked to be pajama shorts and an oversized white t-shirt. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” He looked a little sheepish, running his hair through his blonde locks.

“A-ah, yeah, but it’s ok! I really shouldn’t have slept this long anyway,” you trailed off, opening the door a little wider and motioning for Yoongi to come in. “What’s that?” You asked, pointing at the black bag clutched in his hand.

“Oh, well…” he starts, coming all the way through the entryway and toeing his shoes off next to yours, he assumed. “Since the forecast says it’s supposed to snow, I brought some board games and some movies,” he seemed a little unsure, wary that you were going to tell him you didn’t want to hang out, or something. You smiled at him to ease his worries.

“I love board games,” you began, walking off towards your kitchen, Yoongi trailing behind you. “I haven’t really played any in years though,” you falter, “I’m not sure I’ll be any good.”

Yoongi gave you the gentlest smile you’ve seen from a man, making you melt a little more. What was this guy doing to you? “Don’t worry, I’m not the competitive type anyways.” He gave you a little wink, making you giggle. Yoongi’s eyes shot up to yours, a gummy smile spreading across his handsome face. The tinkling sound of your laugh made his inside heat up. He absolutely adored the sound. 

The two of you ended up ordering take out again, Yoongi insisting on paying this time, and sat on your couches with games and snacks spread out on the coffee table. You guys had already played a couple rounds of Scrabble, and one round of Scattergories and now you were leaning back enjoying the pizza Yoongi had ordered. Just like Yoongi had predicted, it started snowing around 6 o’clock and has been for the last hour or so. 

“You’re telling me you lived your whole life never having a pet?!” You laughed, hand covering your mouth still full of pizza.

“Nope. My parents never let me have a pet growing up and when I was old enough to move out I was just too busy to take care of one. A few years ago when I was feeling lonely, I decided to give it a go.”

You couldn’t imagine a life without pets. Growing up your family always had dogs or cats around, one time even adopting a pet hamster. You haven’t had pets in a few years, but you’re around them all the time due to work. 

“I love Mochi, though. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it now.” He smiled fondly, talking about his beloved cat. “What about you, any pets back home?”

“Ah, no. I don’t have the time anymore. But it’s ok because I spend most of my time with them at work.” As much as you hated the people you worked with, you absolutely adored the animals. You didn’t think you could ever work in a profession that didn’t allow you to work with animals, it just wouldn’t make sense to you. 

Yoongi smiled at you, damn that smile was making you seriously weak. “I’d love to introduce you to Mochi while you’re here, if you’d like.” 

“I would love that.”

“Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? It’ll be Christmas Eve, I can cook something for us, and you can hangout with Mochi. I’m sure he’d love the company, I’m usually pretty boring.” He laughed. 

“I -” you hesitated. Why were you hesitating? You really liked Yoongi. You liked him so much that you even forgot about your promise to him about ‘one more day’. You were enjoying the time you spent with him so much that thoughts about your parents, Namjoon, and your demons we’re at the back of your mind when you were with him. You mean, you’ve literally only smoked two cigarettes today, that has to be some sort of record for you. So why were you hesitating?You knew why, you didn’t want Yoongi to get too attached. Who were you kidding, you didn’t want to get too attached. You’d be leaving soon and it would only hurt you more in the long run. Yoongi was staring at you, a hopeful look in his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Yoongi.”

The crestfallen look on Yoongi’s face made you want to immediately take back your words, but he beat you to it. “Can I ask you why you think that?” He was much bolder than when you met a couple of days ago, you noted. 

You wrung your hands together in your lap, having finished your slice of pizza a few minutes ago. “I just don’t want to make this harder than it already is,” you trailed off, eyes fixated on a loose thread on the rug beneath the coffee table, “I have to go back home in a week, and like I told you a couple of days ago, I’m not sure if I even want to live that life anymore.” You whispered the last part, biting on the inside of your cheek. 

Yoongi’s eyes softened. He realized it wasn’t about him, but about you and how you didn’t want to hurt him. He knew you were too kind for your own good. “YN. It’s just dinner. And who says we can’t still be friends when you do go back home?” he added extra emphasis to the word do, making sure to not leave an ‘if’ in that sentence. He’s going to make sure you make it back home in one piece if it’s the last thing he does. 

You knew what Yoongi was trying to do, and you really did appreciate it. You also really enjoyed his company, so you thought, fuck it. “Ok” you whispered out softly, finally meeting Yoongi’s eyes. 

“Ok? Does that mean you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Yes. I’ll have dinner with you. On one condition” you acquiesced, a soft smirk on your face.

Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his blonde fringe. “Anything” he breathed out, a little too quickly for his liking.

“I get to cuddle with your cat all night. I really miss the animals.”

Yoongi tried, and failed, to hide a huge grin. “Deal.”

Last night, after you agreed to have dinner with Yoongi, you played a few more board games, kicking his ass in Monopoly a couple of times, before you said your goodbyes. Yoongi left the board games at your house, reasoning that he would definitely be back over to avenge himself in Monopoly. You giggled at him as you waved goodbye with the promise of dinner.

It was now 1 o’clock in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, and you were starting to panic. Christmas Eve was a hard day for you to get through, considering the memories you have of this day. Not only that, but you still couldn’t shake that odd feeling that you had when you woke up yesterday. However, today is even more panic-inducing because you are about to have dinner with your cute neighbor, who you may or may not have a slight (read: huge) crush on. 

You spent a majority of your morning sulking around your cabin, taking more than a few smoke breaks on the deck, and cleaning the kitchen and living room up in your anxiety driven state. Now, with nothing left to tidy up, you decide to start getting ready for dinner. 

After taking a long, hot shower, you dried and styled your hair, put just enough makeup on to cover your dark bags and sallow skin, and ventured to your room to rummage through your suitcase in order to find something appropriate to wear. You didn’t bring much with you on this trip besides sweatpants and pajamas. It’s not like you would’ve gone anywhere other than the corner store for more cigarettes had you not met Yoongi. You eventually decide on a dark pair of jeans that you luckily decided to throw in your suitcase last minute, and an old band t-shirt. You honestly didn’t have much else, and you were hoping Yoongi understood (he did) you didn’t really plan on seeing anyone these couple of weeks. 

A little after four in the afternoon, your anxiety started to build up even more. You were anxiously awaiting Yoongi’s text to head over to his place, and decided that it was a great time for a smoke. You grabbed Yoongi’s coat that was draped over your vanity chair, your pack of cigarettes, and your lighter, and headed out towards the deck. You had been so wrapped up in making yourself look presentable, that you had mostly forgotten what day it was, and the dread you usually felt about it. It was nice in a way, but now, sitting out here on your deck, staring out at that damned lake, you couldn’t help but remember why it was you started smoking these stupid cigarettes in the first place. 

“YN?” you heard someone call, distant, yet still close? You were confused, you couldn’t open your eyes. Why couldn’t you open your eyes? “YN, can you hear me?” Namjoon? Namjoon! You thought to yourself. Why couldn’t he hear you!?

For a moment, your eyes fluttered open. You saw Namjoon, hovering above you. But there was someone else next to him. They were wearing a uniform. A cop? No. They were wearing latex gloves and holding what looked like an IV bag.  “YN!” You heard Namjoon yell again. You desperately wanted to answer him, but your voice wouldn’t come through. You blinked a few times, before everything faded to black again. That was the last memory you had of your brother. 

Your cell phone dinged in your pocket, startling you back into the present. You looked at the cigarette in your hand, nearly burned to the butt and you haven’t taken a single drag. Quickly, you brought it up to your lips and inhaled before pulling your phone out of Yoongi’s coat. 

From Yoongi [4:33 pm]: dinner will be ready in 20, want to head over?

You glanced over to Yoongi’s house, briefly looking through the only window that had the curtains drawn. You didn’t see any movement. Had he seen you out here smoking again? You looked back at your phone, taking another drag from the cigarette, before typing out your reply. 

From You [4:35 pm]: ya, be right over

You pocketed your phone and put your cigarette out, tossing the butt into the trash can on your way back inside. You locked the sliding glass door before heading to your room to spray some perfume. You didn’t want to go over to Yoongi’s smelling like smoke. Before you left, you grabbed your keys, double checked the doors were locked, and walked the short distance between the two houses. 

Before you knocked, you took in the state of Yoongi’s home. It was quant, smaller than your parent’s cabin, painted white with forest green window sills and roof tiles. You noticed there were planter boxes under his front windows, but no plants to be found. Hung on his front door was a cute Christmas wreath, plain with pretty burgundy poinsettias on it. You smiled to yourself, happy to see some form of Christmas decorations, not having put any of your own out. You’ve really forgotten how much you used to love Christmas. You loved the decorations, the food, the movies, but you’ve really forgotten what it was like to feel that holiday cheer. Having Yoongi in your life, even for these few days, has really helped you see what you’ve been missing out on.

Before you could even lift your hand to knock on the dark green door, it was opening to reveal a giddy looking Yoongi. You took a moment to drink him in, in all his glory. He was wearing some dark jeans, much like you, and a plain black t-shirt. You idly wondered if he didn’t dress up on purpose to spare you the embarrassment of not having nice clothes. His blonde hair, usually a disheveled mess, was combed out and surprisingly shiny, despite what looked like excessive bleaching. The moment he saw that you were wearing his coat, a huge gummy grin took over his face, causing his cat-like eyes to scrunch in happiness. The look on his face made butterflies erupt in your stomach, as you mirrored his grin.

“Hi,” he said shyly, still smiling.

“Hi yourself,” you breathed, “thank you for having me over.”

He waved away your thanks, moving aside and gesturing for you to come in. “Don’t mention it, really. The pleasure is all mine.” You don’t know the weight those words hold, but he means it, you can tell. 

As you walked through the entryway of his home, you pulled off your shoes, setting them on the neatly organized shoe rack next to his front door. Moving through to his living room, you noticed how well organized his entire house was. There was a pristine looking cover over his sofa which also housed a couple of blankets and throw pillows. On his coffee table were a few books and what looked like photo albums. As you took in your surroundings, Yoongi watched you curiously, one eyebrow cocked. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you weren’t expecting him to be so… clean?

“I like to keep things organized, sometimes it can be a bad habit of mine,” he trailed off, looking around his neat space, “dinner is almost done. Do you want something to drink?”

“Yes, please.” You sighed in relief. You were pacified at the thought of having a glass of something to help lessen your nerves. You only knew Yoongi for the past three days, but for some reason, this almost felt like a first date. God, when was the last time you went on a date? It had to have been at least 5 years ago. The thought alone made your anxiety flare up tenfold. 

“I have both white and red wine, soda and different types of tea…” you were still standing awkwardly, hands clasped in front of you looking almost like you were afraid to move further into his house. Yoongi walked up to you, gently taking your hand in his, causing your eyes to snap up, meeting his own. “Hey, it’s ok,” he smiled gently at you, “come on, I’ll get us those drinks.” 

He led you into his kitchen which had his dining room attached, a small four person wooden table sitting near a bay window. It was cozy, you thought, somewhere you would like to retire too. Now, that wasn’t a thought you’d had in a long time. You never wondered about growing old, surprise you even made it this far. 

Yoongi let go of your hand to reach into a cabinet by his sink. “Wine ok?” he asked, sensing the tension in your body. 

“Y-yes. Red, please.” You weren’t sure why you were being so shy and awkward, you’ve spent the last couple of days getting to know Yoongi, pretty well you might add. You think it’s partly to do with what day it is, as Christmas Eve always puts you a little more on edge, and a little more flighty. Yoongi quietly pours two glasses of red wine, passing one to you politely. You murmur a thank you before taking a sip.

Yoongi watched you as you sipped your wine, looking around his kitchen curiously. He could sense your anxiety, it was rolling off of you in waves. He didn’t want this to be awkward, he wanted to make sure you had a good night, and wanted to take your mind off of things for a while. “Want to meet Mochi?” he asked, hopeful it would shift your mood a little. 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the cat, and were quickly nodding your head. Yoongi walked away down the hallway, returning moments later with a petite framed calico cat in his arms. You internally chuckled at the resemblance they shared in their small statures. “He’s a little shy, but if you give him some time, he’ll warm up to you” Yoongi smiled at you, leading you over to his couch, sitting down with Mochi in his lap. Slowly, you sat down, not wanting to scare the creature, and sat your wine glass on a wooden coaster on the coffee table. 

Immediately upon sitting, Mochi hopped off Yoongi’s lap and right into yours. You let out a small, shocked gasp as the cat started kneading into your thighs, making himself comfortable. Yoongi’s eyes widened as they met you. “H-he never does that. It usually takes him a while to warm up to people. In fact, the first time my friend Jungkook came over, he nearly lost an eye to him.” He chuckled lowly at the memory. 

“Animals usually like me,” you said softly, bringing your hand up to run through Mochi’s fur. It was long, and extremely fluffy, “I think they know how much I adore them.” Yoongi watched on as you smiled down at his now purring cat in your lap. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to adopt another cat with you, or maybe even a dog, before lightly shaking his head and rising from the couch. 

“I’m gonna check on dinner, it should be done soon. You’ll probably be… occupied, until then.” Yoongi gave you a soft smile, which you returned, before walking off into the kitchen. You leaned back into the soft fabric of the couch, absentmindedly running your hand over Mochi. 

You could hear the clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen as you loved on Mochi. Whatever Yoongi was cooking smelled absolutely delicious and was making your mouth water. You had only eaten breakfast today, and were on the verge of starving. On top of that, you haven’t had a Christmas meal in ages. You were actually starting to get excited about having dinner with Yoongi, and you had this purring love bug in your lap, and your glass of wine, to thank. 

“It’s ready!” Yoongi called from the kitchen, scaring the sleeping cat, causing him to jump up and run off towards the kitchen. “Oh you scaredy cat” Yoongi grumbled as Mochi slid past him on the floor. You chuckled as you got up from the couch and headed towards the dining table. Upon seeing what Yoongi had laid out on the table, your eyes widened and you let out a breathy gasp. 

“You made all this?!” You questioned incredulously. 

“U-uh, yeah? I told you, I used to cook with my grandma. We always made Christmas dinners together,” he ran his hand through his, now messy, locks, “I still try and cook as much as I can, I actually enjoy it.” He looked away, blush rising to his cheeks.

You looked at all the different assortments of food Yoongi had prepared. There was a large skillet that contained beef bulgogi, and smaller dishes that housed kimchi, steamed eggs, japchae, and steamed rice. “It looks amazing, Yoongi!” You exclaimed, a genuine smile on your face. 

“Well let’s not stare at it all night. Let’s eat!”

You and Yoongi ate your meal, laughing at each other’s odd Christmas stories. You both had another glass of wine, feeling looser as the night went on. Mochi sat close to his owner, tail flicking idly, waiting for scraps of food to be accidentally flung from chopsticks during conversation. According to Yoongi, the cat loved eggs, a trait he found both odd and endearing. You were so enthralled in conversation with Yoongi, you barely registered that the food was nearly gone, two glasses of wine downed, and it was nearing midnight. Sparing a glance at the oven clock, you realized just how late it was getting.  “Do you mind,” you started, before hesitating, unsure if you wanted to ask. 

“What is it, YN?” Yoongi encouraged you. He was so kind, always observant, sensing when you needed a little push.

“Would you mind if I went out back to smoke?” You looked away, rubbing your hand up and down your arm, embarrassed that you were about to bring your conversation to and end just because you needed to smoke. Nasty habit, you knew you should quit, but it was hard.

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I didn’t realize it was getting so late,” he started, getting up from his seat and grabbing dishes, “want me to join you? I can deal with the mess later.”

You grabbed your own plate, following him to the sink and setting it down gently. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.” You smile at Yoongi, happy for the company.

Yoongi didn’t have a deck like you, but he had a nice yard with tall, green grass. Right off his dining room was a sliding glass door that led to a small concrete patio that was furnished with a couple patio chairs and a fire pit. His land went straight back, down to the lake, just like yours. The only thing separating your properties was a line of shrubs and trees. Yoongi was busying himself with the fire pit as you sat in one of the chairs. You opened your pack of cigarettes, noticing you only had one left, mentally nothing you’d had to run down to the store to grab more. 

As you lit your cigarette, Yoongi was lighting a small fire with the firewood he kept by the backdoor. It was a small one, but it was enough to keep you warm in the freezing weather. Instead of sitting down in the chair across from you, like you expected him to, Yoongi stood in front of you and held his hand out. For a moment, you were confused, until you realized he wanted you to take his outstretched hand. You complied, placing your free hand in his, turning your head to blow out your previous inhale of smoke. 

Yoongi gave you a gentle tug, indicating he wanted you to stand up. As you stood, Yoongi maneuvered himself behind you, so you were standing directly in front of the fire, as he shakily wrapped his arms around your middle. The feeling of his hands on your waist was doing things to you in your alcohol hazed state. 

“Is this ok?” he asked quietly, lips close to your ear and he set his chin on your shoulder. You nodded slightly, feeling almost dizzy from whatever this feeling was that Yoongi was causing. You could feel his warm breath on your neck as you took another drag from your cigarette. 

“Does the smoke not bother you?” you asked, a little forced, holding the smoke in your lungs. 

“I just want to be close to you,” he whispers, “YN, I like you.” 

You giggled at his comment, releasing the smoke from your chest. “I like you too, Yoongi.”

“No, YN, I mean I really, really like you.”

To say you were surprised by his sudden confession would be an understatement. You took a sharp inhale of breath, nearly choking on the cold air, and not because of your cigarette, before Yoongi began again, “I’m sorry if it’s sudden, or if it’s not what you want to hear right now, but I really need you to know that I enjoy spending time with you, and would love the opportunity to get to know you better, if you’ll allow me.” You tossed the butt of your cigarette into the fire pit and hesitantly turned around in Yoongi’s arms. 

Your arms snaked around his shoulder, criss-crossing behind his neck. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew the things that go on in my head.” The wine was making you bold, making you want to tell Yoongi exactly how you felt. “I’m afraid if you get to know me, you wont like what you find.”

Yoongi sighed, looking deep into your eyes that have long since lost their sparkle. “I can’t promise you much, YN. I’m a freelance writer who lives in the middle of nowhere. But what I can promise you, is that whatever I find in you, wont send me running. I know what I’ve already found in you - you’re a sweet, compassionate girl, who in just three days has me falling head over heels,” he breathed, inches away from your face, “I’ve never met anyone like you, YN.” Yoongi brought his hand from your waist up to your face, ever so gently gracing the back of his fingers against your sharp cheekbone. 

You leaned into his touch, not remembering what it was like to be cared for in such a gentle manner. “Yoongi, I-” you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. You wanted so badly to give in to his sweet words, to let him in and break down your walls for him. You were scared, terrified even, of what that meant. He would learn all about your dark past, your demons, the monsters that threatened to take you down. A silent tear trailed down your cheek because of your internal battle. 

Yoongi was quick to swipe it away with his thumb. “You don’t have to say anything back, YN,” his voice barely a whisper, like if he spoke too loud you’d blow away in the cold breeze, “Just promise me one thing?” You made a sound of confirmation, “One more day.”

At that, you broke down in Yoongi’s strong arms. Your face pushed into his firm chest, tears flowing freely. Sobs wracked your chest and Yoongi held you, rubbing a hand up and down your back. You weren’t sure, but you think you feel Yoongi’s chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made it seem like he was crying with you. You didn’t want to chance a look at him, worried it would break you further. You stood there for what felt like an eternity before you calmed enough to pull back from Yoongi, hands unclasping from behind his back and coming around to fist in his shirt. “Thank you, Yoongi. Thank you.” You let out a couple more weak sobs, before hugging him as tightly as you could. You didn’t need to explain, Yoongi understood.

You and Yoongi stayed wrapped up in each other's arms for the better part of the night, having moved inside to the couch, before you were getting too tired to keep your eyes open. Yoongi was laying against the back of the couch, you slotted in front of him with his arms around your chest, holding you tightly to him. You let out a small yawn, making Yoongi smile to himself. “Tired, love?” 

You let out another yawn, bringing your hand up to rub your eyes. “Yeah,” you sighed, “I should probably get going.” You really didn’t want to leave, but you knew you should. You would feel a lot better in the morning if you slept in your own bed, not on this too small couch. 

“I’ll walk you home,” Yoongi offered, standing up from the couch, pulling you with him. You moved to take off his coat before he stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” He smiled down at you, running his hand from your shoulder, down your arm, taking your hand in his. 

You smiled up at the slightly taller man, blushing profusely. You followed Yoongi through his home, toeing on your shoes at the front door, hands still intertwined. As promised, Yoongi walked you to your front porch, waiting until you had entered your house and locked the door before walking back to his own home. Once inside, you leaned your back against the door, head tilting until it hit the glass window pane in the middle of it. You sighed to yourself, feeling lighter than you have in probably years. You weren’t used to this feeling, and on Christmas Eve of all days. Well… You guessed it was probably Christmas now, with how long you spent laying on Yoongi’s couch. With that thought in mind, you pulled your phone out from Yoongi’s coat pocket to check the time. Before you could even register the time, you were stopping in your tracks as what greeted you on your phone screen. When was the last time you checked your phone? You’d been so wrapped up in Yoongi you don’t recall looking at it all night.

On your lock screen, you saw a missed call. Several, actually. From Namjoon. 

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Why was he calling you? You haven’t spoken to him in nearly three years. There was no reason for him to be calling you, unless there was some kind of emergency, right? Panicking, you walked further into the cabin, not bothering to take off the coat or your shoes. You sped walked right into your bedroom, eyes glued to your phone the entire time. Should you call him back? You weren’t sure if you wanted to speak to him right now, especially after the wonderful night you had with Yoongi. But - what if he was calling to apologize, to make things right? You had to find out.

As you unlocked your phone, you saw the notification for a new voicemail. Hesitantly, you opened your calls app, and clicked on the message from Namjoon. You saw it was only about a minute long. Curiosity getting the best of you, you played the message:

“Y-YN? YN! W-what are you doing baby sister?” you could tell he was drunk from the way he was slurring his words, panic immediately rising in your chest. “Are you at mom and dad’s cabin? Yo-you always did love it there, didn’t you? Loved it so much you even tried ending your own life there!” A sharp laugh came from the phone, causing you to pull it away from your ear for a second. “You know YN, I wish you- you did. I wish I never pulled you out of th-that fucking lake. Then m-maybe I wouldn’t have to relive that God damn nigh-nightmare every fucking n-night YN,” you didn’t want to listen anymore to this anymore, you shut your eyes tight,hot tears welling up behind your eyelids, “G-go be with mom and dad, it’s what you want right?! I just-” the line cut off, ending the voicemail. You stumbled backwards, back hitting your bedroom door. You couldn’t see, lights still off, not having bothered with them when you burst in the room. Stunned, you still had the phone to your ear, other hand coming up to push at your eyes, willing the tears to stop forming. You slid down the back of your bedroom door, finally letting go of your phone, causing it to clatter down to the wood floor. Your breathing was ragged, eyes still glued shut in pain. Panic. You were panicking. You haven’t had a panic attack in a couple of years, but you knew the signs. You hugged your knees to your chest and fell over on your side, sobbing into your forearms. 

Is that how Namjoon, your own brother, really felt all these years? He wished he never saved your life? It shouldn’t be surprising to you, the last memory you have of him is in the back of an ambulance, grief written all over his face. That was the last time you saw him, until he texted you months later after countless missed calls, texts, and emails from you. He told you that you needed help, and that he needed to distance himself from you. Did your actions take such a huge toll on his life, that he wished you were no longer on this planet? 

You aren’t sure how long you laid on your bedroom floor, sobbing, but it must have been hours. By the time you finally pulled yourself up, you could see the beginnings of morning shining through your window. 

You needed to smoke, or drink heavily, or do something to ease this pain. You remembered briefly that you were out of cigarettes, not willing to drive yourself to the store to buy more. Drinking seemed like it would only worsen your pain right now, so you pulled yourself over to your suitcase, tossing it open on your bed. After a few moments of rifling through your things, you found what you were looking for, before heading off into your bathroom.

It was Christmas day. Yoongi hasn’t been excited for Christmas since he was a teenager, and his mother was still around to make the holidays special. He hasn’t done much for Christmas since he moved out here. Every once in a while, Jungkook would invite him over for Christmas dinner with his wife a couple towns over, but she was pregnant this year and Yoongi didn’t want to intrude. 

Yoongi was actually excited for Christmas today. Sure, he didn’t have a tree, or presents to give, but he had someone to spend it with. Someone special, which was saying a lot for a recluse like him. 

It was early, an ungodly hour according to Yoongi on a normal day, but today was different. As he got out of bed, he startled Mochi who shot across the floor, out his bedroom door. He smiled to himself and shook his head lightly. Such a scaredy cat, he thought to himself. Yoongi planned on making some Christmas cookies, or maybe a rice cake for today, before heading over to your house to spend the day with you. After his late night confession yesterday, Yoongi was feeling bolder than ever when it came to you, and decided to shoot you a quick text to let you know he was thinking about you.

To YN [7:37 am]: good morning, love

To YN [7:37 am]: I hope it’s ok if I come over in a bit

To YN [7:38 am]: I want to let you sleep in a little longer, but I can’t wait to see you

He pocketed his phone, satisfied with his texts, for now. He assumed you were still sleeping since you were at his last night until well after midnight. 

As the morning went on, Yoongi whipped up a traditional rice cake with fruits, another recipe from his grandmother’s cookbook, something she always made for his family at Christmas. By the time he was done with the cake, it was nearing nine in the morning, and he was starting to worry slightly that you haven't texted him back. He usually saw you out on your deck having a morning smoke by now, and he had definitely been sneaking glances out his kitchen window to try and catch a glimpse of you. He didn’t see you all morning, which was causing a slight panic to arise in his chest. 

By 9:15, Yoongi couldn’t contain his panic anymore. Something was wrong. He could feel it. You should be awake by now. You always came out for a cigarette by now. Pulling on a coat, Yoongi put on his slippers, rice cake long forgotten, as he trudged over to your front door.

He knocked gently at first, not wanting to startle you if you indeed were just sleeping in. No response. This time, Yoongi wrapped on the door a little harder, making enough noise to wake you up without a doubt. He waited a couple of minutes before the feeling in his chest dropped to his stomach. He felt sick. This isn’t right. 

Yoongi walked around the front of your house to peer into your bedroom window. He vaguely remembered the location of it from when he carried you in there the first night you met. He put his hands up to the glass and attached his face to his fingers, looking into your room. He didn’t see you, but what he did see worried him even more. Your bedroom door was wide open and your suitcase was open on your bed. He glanced at the driveway to confirm your car was indeed still there before he ran around to your back deck. Yoongi was in full panic mode now, seconds away from breaking a window. When he got to your sliding glass door, he attempted to open it, and to his surprise it slid right open. He would have to give you a lecture about locking your doors after he made sure you were ok.

“YN?” he called out, slightly louder than he meant, “YN? Love? Are you in here?” Yoongi walked through your living room hesitantly, almost scared of what he might find. He didn’t see any sign of you, so he trudged down the hallway leading to your bedroom. “YN!?” His voice was starting to become panicked the longer he couldn’t find you. “YN please,” he sighed out, realizing wherever you were you probably weren’t hearing him. He peeked into your room one more time to make sure you really weren’t in there. He didn’t find you, but what he did find was your cellphone, laying on the floor with a cracked screen. Yoongi tilted his head as he knelt down to pick the phone up. It lit up with the movement, showing him the missed texts from himself, and missed calls from… Namjoon? Oh no. “No. No, no, no” Yoongi whispered to himself. This couldn't be good. He pocketed your phone, making his way further down the hallway. He saw light coming from underneath one of the closed doors and immediately started banging on it. “YN!? YN are you in there? Please love, open the door!” Yoongi tried turning the door handle, unsurprised when he found it locked. “YN I will break this door down!” He threatened, terrified beyond belief at what he would find when he did.

With one sharp inhale of air, Yoongi grabbed onto the door handle and shoved his shoulder into the door. Once, twice, and on the third hit it popped open, breaking the doorframe in the process. Yoongi ignored the stinging pain in his shoulder as soon as he saw your prone form on the bathroom floor, empty pill bottle in the sink. The air left Yoongi’s lungs as he knelt down next to your head, gently cradling your head in his hands, setting it in his lap. “YN?! No, no! YN!” He was frantically trying to get his phone out of his pocket and unlocked. “YN, honey, please. Please wake up, please. YN you promised. You promised me YN!” his cries were frantic, tears streaming down his face, “You promised me! Please YN!” he begged you to wake up, to be alive, terrified he would never see your eyes light up or your beautiful smile again. Hot tears streamed onto his phone as he dialed for emergency services.

Yoongi sat in the waiting area of the emergency room, speaking quietly into the phone, fingers playing with a frayed edge of this t-shirt. “I don’t know, Jungkook, they won't tell me anything.” He hadn’t stopped crying since he found you on your bathroom floor, now just letting silent tears roll down his cheeks.

“You’re telling me, you met some girl four days ago, have been spending all your time with her, and you find her, half alive on her bathroom floor? What kind of mess are you getting yourself into Yoongi? You’ve never been the type to take an interest in girls, much less ones you barely know!” Jungkook half-yelled through the phone. Yoongi understood why Jungkook was worried, he really did, but he was just looking for some kind of anchor right now to keep him grounded.

“JK, please,” Yoongi barely whimpered into the phone, lip trembling, “I l- I don’t want to lose her.” He wasn’t ready to say the words yet, not when he wasn’t sure if you were even going to make it. 

Jungkook heaved a heavy sigh, obviously frustrated with the situation. “I’m really sorry man. I wish I could tell you she was going to be alright, she’s - what was her name again?”

“YN.” 

“Right, YN. From what you’ve told me, it seems like you got to her before it was too late, right? I’m sure everything will be fine. You said they’re pumping her stomach now, I’m sure it won't be much longer before you have more answers,” Jungkook sounded like he wanted to add on to that, but thought better of it, “Do you need me to come by? Eunha is at her parents house right now, I hung back to talk to you, I don’t mind-”

“Jungkook, no. It’s fucking Christmas. I’m sorry for taking you away-” he sniffled harder, “away from your family.” The dam is broken now, Yoongi was unable to stop the tears from flowing, sobs wracking his small frame. 

Jungkook’s heart broke at the sound of his oldest friend’s tears. He didn’t mind leaving his wife for a few hours, he knew she was safe with her parents, probably about to start working on dinner for tonight. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, man. Hang in there.”

Yoongi let out a shaky sigh, looking down at his now black phone screen. He felt like he was underwater, like his heart was beating in his ears. He could vaguely hear the chatter of the nurses and people in the waiting room, but his sole focus was on the pounding in his chest and the sinking feeling in his gut. All he could think about was you; what drove you to this? What could he have done differently last night to ensure your safety? Why was your brother calling you insistently throughout the morning? Most importantly, were you going to be ok? He didn’t want to think about that right now, couldn’t think about that right now, unless he wanted the hospital to have to admit him, too. 

Before Yoongi could spiral any further, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his youngest friend, dressed in gray sweats and a loose black pullover. Jungkook had a sad look in his eyes, not pity, but heartache at the pain his friend was feeling. Jungkook squatted down in front of Yoongi, hand still on his shoulder, so he could be at eye level with him. “Hey man. Any news?” He asked, solemnly. 

Yoongi shook his head slightly, trying to collect himself enough to utter a few words. “No. Nothing.” Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stop, just for a moment. His effort was all in vain, as Jungkook took hold of Yoongi’s hand, pulling him up into the taller man’s chest, embracing him. Yoongi’s small frame seemed even smaller in this moment, shoulders shrunk in on themselves, as Jungkook hugged the broken man.

“Why don’t you tell me about her?” Jungkook whispered to Yoongi, rubbing a hand up and down his back comfortingly. “We can grab some coffee and you can tell me all about her.” Jungkook wanted to get Yoongi away from this waiting room full of curious eyes, and wanted him to relax a little. He knew he was going to want to see you as soon as you were in the clear, and he wanted to make sure he was in a good enough state to do so. He could feel Yoongi nod against his chest, pulling away but still keeping one arm around the shorter man’s shoulders. 

Yoongi and Jungkook sat at a quiet table in the corner of the hospital cafeteria, nursing two black coffees. Yoongi was staring out of the window to his right, not really paying attention to what Jungkook was saying.

“Yoongi, do you want to talk about it? How did you guys even meet?”

Yoongi gave a small shrug, “she’s been visiting every year since I moved into my grandma’s house. I just now finally built up the courage to say hi. She seemed sad.” had a permanent frown in his brow. 

“So you wanted to say hello because she seemed sad?”

“Yes, JK, what more do you want from me?” Yoongi shot the younger man a glare from where he sat across from him.

Jungkook leaned back slightly, holding his hands up in a pacifying manner. “Hey, hey, man. I just want to hear about her, want you to tell me about her. That’s all” He said in a hushed tone.

Yoongi looked down at his coffee, focusing on the small billows of steam rising from it. “I’m sorry - I just -” he looked up at Jungkook, unshed tears threatening to fall again, “She’s perfect, you know? She doesn’t deserve any of this pain. She lost her parents, her brother, basically everyone who cared about her. I just wanted to- to be someone she could lean on,” he blinked rapidly, trying to rid the tears before adding on, “I think I love her, JK.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his expression, nodding his head. “I support you Yoongi, you know that. I always will.” Yoongi nodded at this. He knew it, would never forget it. Him and Jungkook had been through so much together, that’s why he was the first person Yoongi called when he got to the hospital this morning. “What do you think happened that caused her to do it?”

Yoongi bit his lip, remembering he had your phone tucked away in his pocket still. He slid it out, setting it on the tabletop between him and Jungkook. “I’m not sure… but I think it has something to do with her brother calling her.” As if he was summoned, Namjoon’s name appeared on the small screen, phone vibrating so violently it moved a little across the table. He’d been calling all morning, and from what Yoongi could gather from your lock screen, all night, too. It wasn’t his place to go through your phone, or to answer the calls from your brother, especially if him calling had anything to do with your current condition.

“Are you going to answer him?” Jungkook hesitantly asked, looking from the phone, to Yoongi, and back again as the vibrating faded out. 

Yoongi shook his head quickly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his temple. He really needed to stop crying, he thought. “No. What if he’s the reason she’s here in the first place?”

“He’s her brother right? Her family?” Jungkook started, seeing Yoongi nod in confirmation he continued, “don’t you think he should know his sister is in the hospital for attempted suicide?”

Yoongi scoffed. He was bitter, but part of him knew Jungkook was right. He’s still her family, after all. Would it be the right thing to do, to tell him you’re here? Would he even want to see you? From what you’ve told Yoongi about your brother, he doesn’t think so. “He left her the last time it happened, hasn’t spoken to her since,” Yoongi mumbled, almost too quietly for Jungkook to hear, “I’m not sure he would even care.”

Jungkook pursed his lips. He doesn’t know you, nor is he going to pretend to know what it’s like to be in your shoes. Yoongi knew you better than he did, so he was going to take Yoongi’s word for it. “Want to head back up? See if there’s any news?” Yoongi nodded, looking down at the floor. The both grabbed their to-go cups and headed towards the elevators. 

Pain. Seething hot pain in your throat, that’s all you mind was focusing on right now. Your vision was black, and no matter how hard you tried to make a sound, nothing would come out. It felt like a thousand hot knives were forcing themselves down your esophagus, blocking any air flow. You were suffocating, this must be what it feels like to die, right? Because the last thing you remember was laying down on the cool tile floor of your bathroom after you swallowed your entire bottle of antidepressants. The pain in your throat must be from the excessive amount of pills you downed, right? Nothing else could explain this excruciating pain. You were obviously being punished for taking fate into your own hands. That was the only reasonable explanation you could come up with in your current state of mind.

“She’s waking up!” 

Wait. Why can you hear people? If there were people around, were you alive? 

“Administer more Propofol, she needs to be unconscious.”

No. No, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to be gone. You wanted to be gone, but right now all you could think about now was making this pain stop. You silently prayed that whoever was helping you would make this pain go away. 

Yoongi was leaning on Jungkook’s firm shoulder, both sitting on ugly plastic green chairs in the hospital waiting room. A nurse had informed Yoongi that you were out of the operating room, and were moved to a more private ward of the hospital to recover. He wasn’t allowed in yet, as they wanted to monitor you a little while longer to make sure you were out of the woods. They explained to him that the first few hours after an overdose were the most crucial if there was any hope of the brain recovering. 

Yoongi was distraught, to say the least. Torn between calling Namjoon and waiting. He knew you didn’t have your parents anymore, knew that you and your brother didn’t speak, despite the 100 plus missed calls on your phone that said otherwise. He wasn’t sure if you had any friends back home in Busan, but from what you’ve told him, he guessed you didn’t. He was worried that you wouldn’t remember him when you woke up, and you would be confused and scared, alone in the hospital. He thought about calling your brother, just so you’d have a familiar face to wake up to, but the devil on his shoulder wouldn’t let him make the call. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that if you did, in fact, remember what happened, the last person you’d want to see is Namjoon. 

Jungkook was deathly silent, texting his wife and family updates about you and Yoongi. Despite not knowing Yoongi well, or you at all, Jungkook and his entire extended family took an interest in your well-being. Jungkook told them how you had no family, and they completely understood why he was missing Christmas dinner. Yoongi felt bad for keeping him, but Jungkook reassured him over and over again, this is where he wants to be. 

“Mr. Min?” a mouse-like voice called from the circular desk at the center of the waiting area. 

Yoongi shot ramrod straight in his seat, eyes searching for the voice. A short, dark-haired woman who looked to be around Yoongi’s age, was making her way towards him. She had a sweet smile on her face, which only minutely lessened Yoongi’s worries.

“Mr. Min?” She asked again, hesitantly. She waited for Yoongi’s grunt in confirmation before continuing, “I don’t have anyone listed as Miss Y/LN’s next of kin, so since you were the one who brought her here, would you like an update on her status?” He voice was kind and soft, respectful of the environment they were currently in.

Yoongi cleared his throat lightly, “Ye-yes, of course. Yes.” He stuttered out, standing up and moving towards the kind nurse. He glanced over his shoulder at Jungkook, who gave him a small smile, encouraging him to go with the lady.

“I’ll be fine, do what you need to do,” Jungkook waved him off.

The young nurse nodded and turned around, walking back towards the desk. Yoongi trailed after her like a lost puppy, waiting for answers. “Mr. Min, we’re going to be keeping Miss Y/LN here at the hospital for a few days. She’s being put under suicide watch for 72 hours, as is protocol with cases like these,” Yoongi nodded solemnly, understanding the severity of the situation, “I see you listed on her intake paperwork that this wasn’t her first attempt. Is that right?”

Yoongi nodded his head. He didn’t like sharing your personal stories with this stranger, but he understood it was going to help them better care for you, which is all he wanted. “Yes. She had attempted… yeah. Three years ago.” 

The woman nodded her head, writing something on the clipboard she now held in her hands. “Thank you, Mr. Min. We’re going to continue to monitor her, but her vitals are looking good, and there are no outward signs of brain damage right now. This could change however, as once she’s awake and alert, her doctor will want to do another brain scan.”

Yoongi nodded, just glad you were alive and breathing. 

“She’s not awake yet, the sedatives are still wearing off, but they’ve removed intubation and she is resting,” Yoongi winced at this fact, “would you like to see her?”

Yoongi’s eyes finally met the small nurses after staring daggers into the hospital linoleum. “I can see her?”

The woman gave a short nod and a gentle smile. “Of course! I can tell you care a lot about her. She’s very lucky to have you, sir.”

Yoongi nodded, looking down again. He didn’t feel very lucky, and didn’t think you would either right about now. 

“Follow me.” 

Yoongi followed the lady back through two industrial looking double doors, past sterile smelling hospital rooms and nurses and doctors moving rapidly up and down the corridors. Yoongi always hated hospitals, they reminded him of when his Grandmother passed away. He was so hyper focused on walking, he barely heard her when the nurse spoke again. “Before you go in, it’s best to take a moment to prepare yourself for what you’re going to see. It can be really hard to see a loved one in this state, so I’m here to answer any questions you may have,” she advised kindly as she came to a stop outside your room. Yoongi’s stomach fluttered at the mention of you being his ‘loved one’ and he mentally scolded himself. This nurse had no idea about the strange dynamic that is your relationship, if you could even call it that. 

Yoongi shook his head lightly, indicating he didn’t have any questions, at least, not for her. She gave one nod of her head, before clutching her clipboard to her chest. “I wish you the best, Mr. Min.” She said as she walked away. 

Yoongi took a deep breath through his mouth, exhaling slowly through his nose. He wasn’t prepared to see you in a hospital bed, but his excitement at seeing you alive was overtaking his senses right now. He slowly pushed the door to your room open, taking two hesitant steps through the threshold. His eyes immediately scanned the room, falling over your fragile, but breathing, body. As Yoongi quietly shut the door behind him, tears automatically started falling down his cheeks, silent sobs hitting his chest. He swiftly closed the gap between him and your bed, lip trembling, and took your cold, limp hand in his. He didn’t even bother pulling one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs with him, he just knelt on the floors, kneecaps be damned. He wasn’t sure how he was going to react when he saw you, he knew he would feel relief at knowing you were alive, but he didn’t expect to be quite so overcome with emotion. He definitely didn’t expect to feel intense happiness at the fact that he could hold you again. You had no idea the effect you had on him, and in only four short days. 

You laid on the hospital bed, dressed in one of those white, scratchy hospital gowns. Your eyes were even more sunken in than Yoongi remembers, skin sallow and taking on an almost sickly green color. Your hair was a mess, and Yoongi inwardly cursed the nurses for not at least brushing through it for you. Your arm was bruised purple and green at the crease of your elbow where your IV now sat. Your bottom half was covered by a thick blue blanket that looked a little itchy. Yoongi grabbed the top of the blanket with his free hand, moving it up farther on your body, tucking it lightly at your far side. Even in this state, you looked beautiful to him. Despite what has taken place over the last 12 or so hours, he was still enraptured by you and your beauty. 

Yoongi brought your bony hand up to his face, placing a soft, lingering kiss on the back of your knuckles. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and his heart hurt. He didn’t have any more tears to cry, just silent sobs as he laid his forehead on your cold hand. 

Eventually Jungkook made his way up to your room, after being informed by the same brunette nurse that Yoongi was up there with you. He knocked softly on the door twice before opening it and entering. Yoongi was still knelt on the floor by your bed. Jungkook sighed and knelt down next to him

“She’s gonna be ok man,” Jungkook started, placing his hand on Yoongi’s back, “you should rest before she wakes up.”

Yoongi nodded, allowing Jungkook to pull a chair over for him before sitting down in it, never letting go of your hand. Jungkook sat in a chair a little bit behind Yoongi, making sure the older man knew he was there for support. They sat in silence like that for a while before Yoongi started to feel drowsy, eyes falling shut and drifting into a fitful sleep, forehead pressed to your bed. 

You slowly blinked your eyes open, squinting from the bright lights above you. An intense smell of bleach hit your nose causing your throat to constrict and burn. The burn. It was still there, but dulled from last time you remember. You closed your eyes again, squeezing them shut in pain as you tried to swallow, causing a small, yet hoarse, whimper to emit from your throat. 

Immediately, Yoongi’s head shot up at the sound of you. He started rubbing soothing circles onto the back of your hand, still clutched in his. “YN,” he whispered, standing from his seated position, moving even closer to your body.

You blinked your eyes a few times before looking up at Yoongi. He could see the pain in your eyes with the way they were scrunched up cutely at the sides. You brought your hand to your throat subconsciously and Yoongi knew what you meant. He grabbed the pitcher of water from your bedside table and poured you a cup, passing it to you. You silently thanked him with a nod of your head and started gulping down the water. Yoongi sat back down and watched you carefully. He heard Jungkook stand from behind him, dimmed the lights, having watched how you were squinting your eyes, and quietly left the room to give you both some privacy. Yoongi reminded himself to thank him profusely later, but right now his focus was on you.

You finished the cup of water and Yoongi took the cup from your hand and set it back on the side table. “YN,” he whispered again, bringing his hand up to brush against your cheek, “you’re ok.” He smiled at you, genuinely smiled for the first time since last night. He was so beyond happy to see you, alive and well in front of him. 

You had a million thoughts running through your mind right now, and Yoongi could tell by the panic stricken look flashing in your eyes. He soothingly rubbed his hand up and down your arm that was free of any tubes. “It’s ok, love,” he comforted, “I’m here to listen if you want to talk, or if you don’t I’ll sit here with you in silence. You don’t need to explain yourself. I’m just happy you’re ok.” He smiled at you, and even though you could feel the love radiating off of him, you felt sick to your stomach.

How could Yoongi still want to be by your side after what you had just done? How could he still want to comfort you when you were like this? You had a lot of questions, but there was one at the forefront of your mind. “Did you find me?” Your voice was rough from the intubation tube, which you guessed was the reason for your throat burning before. You looked away from Yoongi when you asked, not being brave enough to meet his eye, in fear of what you might find. 

He sighed lightly, almost inaudibly. “Yes.” You could tell without even looking at him that he was choking up, on the verge of tears. At the sound of his voice, you let your own hot tears roll down your cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away. A large hand immediately came up to wipe them away. “Hey, don’t cry, love,” he whispered, “I’m not mad, I’m not upset. These are happy tears, I promise.”

“I’m not happy,” you sniffled, “I’m sorry, Yoongi, that you had to see me like that.” You brought your own hand up to your face to wipe at your nose. 

“YN, I don’t care about that. I swear to you, all that matters to me now is you. I want to keep you safe, want to help you fight this battle so you don’t have to do it alone. You have me, all of me.” His words were so sincere, so loving, you spared a glance at him, and the moment your eyes met, you knew he meant everything that he said. Even in your current state, he sent butterflies erupting throughout your stomach. You took in his face for a moment, red and puffy, tear stained cheeks, but his eyes were happy. You felt safe with him. You knew you’d have to talk about what all this means later, explain to him why you did what you did, but for now, you just wanted to be in his presence. 

Yoongi sat with you for the next few hours, texting Jungkook to head home to his family, apologizing profusely for keeping him away on Christmas. You didn’t talk much, just offering sweet smiles when Yoongi would check to make sure you were doing ok. Like the nurse told Yoongi earlier, your doctor came in to take you for a brain scan and to run some other tests. Yoongi waited patiently in your room while you were being tested. 

When you returned, the doctor checked your vitals again, before letting you both know that he would be back in the morning to run some more tests, and give you the results of the brain scan. You both thanked him quietly before he wished you a merry Christmas, and took his leave.

Alone again with Yoongi, you felt a calm aura wash over you. “Thank you,” you whispered quietly into the dim room, “I’m sorry I ruined your Christmas,” you said with a slight frown.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Yoongi assured, walking over to your bed and sitting next to you, “There is no place I’d rather be than by your side.”

Just as Yoongi finished his sentence, a violent buzzing resounded through the room. Yoongi’s eyes went wide as dinner plates as he realized your phone was still in his pocket. Hesitantly, he brought it out of the back of his jeans and showed you what was on the screen.

You flinched when you saw your cell phone. You knew you’d have to confront Namjoon and Yoongi about what happened sooner or later, but you were really hoping it would be the latter. You reached out for your phone, pushing the red decline button. Yoongi looked at you with an unreadable expression as you let the phone fall to your side onto the bed.

You sighed, looking at Yoongi, lips pursed. “Go ahead, you can ask me,” you offered, rubbing a hand down the front of your face.

Yoongi looked sheepishly at you. Of course he wanted to know what happened, but he didn’t want to push you to tell him or to relive whatever it was that pushed you that far in the first place. His curiosity got the better of him as he chewed his lip raw. “What happened?” His voice was barely a whisper, the beeping of the equipment in the hospital room almost enough to mask it. 

“Namjoon was calling me, I guess, while we were having dinner last night,” you wrung your hands together, trying to warm them up in the frigid temperature in your room, “I didn’t think to check my phone until you walked me home.” Yoongi reached over to stop your ministrations, cupping both your hands in his and blowing warm breath between them. You smiled at his thoughtful actions before continuing, “He was drunk. I don’t think he even realized what he said, but - but he left me a voicemail,” your voice was getting quieter the further into your story you got, “he said he wished I had succeeded three years ago, that he wished he never saved me.”

Yoongi was seething. He had his suspicions that this was your brother’s doing, but he didn’t expect those words to fall from your mouth. He gripped your hands just a little bit together as he brought the back of them to his lips, forcing his emotions down. Yoongi bit down hard on his tongue to stop him from saying exactly what he wanted to say about your idiot brother, but he knew that you were still hurting, still recovering, and didn’t want to upset you or hurt you even further.

“YN - I’m sure he was just drunk,” he starts, before he realizes that the man who calls himself your brother has no excuse for what he said to you, “that does not, and I mean does not, give him an excuse to treat you like that, but you literally haven’t heard from him in what? Three years?” You nodded your head, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Yoongi gently reached up and thumbed at your bottom lip, pulling it away from the assault of your teeth before continuing, “He’s called you over a hundred times since last night. I haven’t answered, he doesn’t know you’re here, as far as I know. If you don’t want to tell him, don’t want to talk to him, I will support you, but I also think it would be good for you to get closure from him. Even if that means cutting him out of your life.” 

You nodded slowly, taking in Yoongi’s words. You knew he was right. You didn’t want to go through life wondering if Namjoon really meant what he said, if he was sorry, if he still thinks about you. You decided to table the conversation for now. It’s not doing anyone any good stressing yourself out about it. First, you needed to have a serious conversation with Yoongi about what exactly was happening between the two of you. You didn’t want there to be any questions when you went home from the hospital, wanted to feel secure in the choices you were about to make.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes, darling.” Yoongi said cooly, still holding onto your hands. He was doing that a lot today and you definitely weren’t complaining. 

“What is this?” You pulled one of your hands gently from Yoongi’s grasp and gestured half-assedly between you both. 

Yoongi’s brow furrowed momentarily before smoothing out and giving you a soft look. “YN - I - I don’t know what you’re expecting,” here it goes, you thought, he’s going to reject you. He’s going to say that this was all too much and he’s only here because he feels guilty. “I really didn’t want to do this here, while you’re lying in a hospital bed,” he scoffs lightly, shaking his head. Your heart drops. Is he really going to leave like this? You bite both your lips between your teeth, looking away to brace yourself for what he’s about to say. “YN I think I’m in love with you.”

Your head shoots up so quickly you think you might have whiplash. Yoongi giggles quietly at your reaction, gummy smile on display for a moment. “W-what?” Is the dignified answer you sputter out. 

This time, Yoongi is looking you directly in the eyes when he says, “I love you, YN. I know it’s only been a few days, but I already can’t imagine my life without you in it. I don’t care what hurdles we have to get past, I don’t care about all your baggage that you seem to think will scare me away, and I definitely don’t care that you seem to think you aren’t worth it. I know you’re worth it, you’re worth all of it.” Before you could form a response, Yoongi is standing up from his chair, wrapping both arms around your small frame and bending a little awkwardly to pull you up slightly to a sitting position. A beat passes before you realize he’s trying to hug you, and you quickly wrap your arms around his neck the best you can while  attached to all these wires and tubes. Yoongi nuzzled into your hair, which you think is probably a horrid mess right now, and whispered close to your ear, “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? I thought I lost you forever, that’s the biggest absence I could’ve felt from you. It made me realize I never want to let you go again.” He pulls back slightly, placing the softest kiss to your cheek before placing his forehead against yours.

You looked up at him through your now wet lashes, “I love you too, Yoongi. You make me feel safe. Something I haven’t felt in a really long time.” You choked out the last couple of words, tears making their way down your cheeks now. “I’m so sorry I put you through this, I’m so sorry I broke my promise.” You were sobbing again. 

“Shh,” he murmured against your hair, “It’s okay, love. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Whatever we need to work through, we will, together.”

“Thank you Yoongi, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, YN. I just want to see you continue living your life.”

You sniffled, pulling back from Yoongi to give him a smile. “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

You were stuck in the hospital for the mandatory three days after Christmas. During that time they ran multiple tests to make sure you didn’t have any lasting damage and you met with two different therapists. Sadly, you knew these procedures, as this wasn’t the first time you went through them. The second therapist you met with suggested putting you on a different antidepressant from the ones you had before, along with an anti-anxiety medication for at least the next few weeks. 

Yoongi stayed with you almost the entire time (aside from going home to check on Mochi and to shower), sleeping on two chairs pushed together, despite you inviting him up on your bed multiple times. He refused on the grounds of ‘I don’t want my first time in bed with you to be at the hospital’, to which you rolled your eyes at. Yoongi had really lightened your mood over the last few days, mixed with the new medications, you were almost feeling back to your ‘normal’ self, or at least as normal as you could be. 

You and Yoongi had decided that it would be best if you took at least one more week off work to recover, and Yoongi was quick to offer to stay with you at your cabin, or have you come stay with him at his, enticing you with Mochi cuddles. Eventually you decided on alternating between the two houses to give you a little reprieve from the memories your cabin will inevitably bring back. Neither of you were dim, you both knew being at the hospital was like a vacation away from your demons. When you stepped foot back in that house, you would likely struggle, at least a little bit more than you are here. 

Being on bed rest for a few days, on top of having your stomach pumped, really did a number on your muscles. You were consistently sore, and were almost too weak to walk on your own. Yoongi was quite the gentleman, massaging your calves when they hurt and walking you to the bathroom when you needed it. You felt lucky to be loved by him. You wanted to be able to show him just how much you loved him in return, and made a mental note to do just that once you recovered. 

On your second night in the hospital, a man by the name of Jungkook came by to check on you and Yoongi. He introduced himself as Yoongi’s best friend and you learned he was married with a baby due in just a few weeks. He was kind and handsome, just like Yoongi. You also found out that he had stayed with Yoongi at the hospital, on Christmas, while you were unconscious. You profusely apologized to the man, getting into a bowing battle while you were sitting on the edge of your bed, while he profusely refused your apologies. You decided you really liked Jungkook and his aloof personality and were glad Yoongi had such a great friend to be there for him. 

You were finally being released on December 28th in Yoongi’s care, something he wasn’t going to take lightly. The hospital made him sign paperwork saying he would keep an eye on you. While it made you feel slightly like a teenager again, you couldn’t deny that you probably needed it, and were just thankful it was Yoongi who would be the one watching over you. 

It was nearing 7 in the evening, well past dark, when Yoongi wheeled your wheelchair, another accommodation you tried to fight, out to his car. He helped you into the front seat, making sure you were comfortable before strapping you in with the seatbelt, closing the door, and jogging to the driver’s side. 

Yoongi clapped his hands together and rubbed them furiously together for a moment. “It’s freezing! Let’s get you home, baby!” He flashed you a gummy smile before starting the engine. 

You giggled at his antics and felt your cheeks heat at the pet name, covering your mouth with your hand. You were feeling pretty good on the drive home, Yoongi looking over at you every couple of minutes to make sure you were alright. You were curled up in the passenger seat watching the trees zoom past the window. Sometime during the drive, Yoongi reached over across the center console and placed his large hand over your knee. You glanced over at him, softly smiling at eachother, and placed your much smaller hand over his, intertwining your fingers together. 

The drive wasn’t long, maybe twenty minutes, but in those twenty minutes, you grew excited. Excited to spend time with Yoongi tonight, to lay with each other in your bed, excited for the future for what felt like the first time since your parents passed. You pictured your parents for a moment, a fleeting thought, what would they think of Yoongi? You wish they could’ve met him. You’re sure your mom would have loved his kind nature and his ability to cook. Your dad would have liked that he had good manners and was always a gentleman. You turned your head to look out the window, smiling sadly to yourself. You were sad they were gone, of course, but you were also happy in this moment and you didn’t want your memories to subtract from that. 

“Almost home, love.” Yoongi said, squeezing your knee. You didn’t realize you had just about dozed off, head leaning on the window. You pulled your hand away from Yoongi’s to rub at your eyes briefly. “Uh, YN?” You looked up at Yoongi in confusion, his tone almost panicked. “Whose car is that?”

Your eyes immediately found the car in question, a sleek, black sports car, parked behind your crappy silver sedan in the cabin’s driveway. It only took you a moment to realize by the license plate ‘RKIVE’ that it was your brother’s. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as Yoongi turned into his own driveway. He could tell by your reaction, you didn’t want to see the owner of that car. 

“My brother.”

It took you a good thirty minutes of pacing Yoongi’s kitchen and countless encouragements from the man himself to build up the courage to go over to your cabin. You had so many questions; why was Namjoon here? How long had he been there? How did he get in? You know you had the locks changed in the last three years since the incident. What confused you the most though, is the fact that his calls completely stopped after Christmas day. You had assumed that he had given up trying to contact you and went on with his life, but apparently he had different plans.

“Are you ready baby?” Yoongi asked you from the kitchen, standing up from pouring food into Mochi’s bowl.

“I really don’t know, Yoongi,” you twisted your wrist in your other hand, a nervous habit, “What if he’s here to yell at me again?”

“YN, I really don’t think he blew your phone up for a day and then drove all the way out here to yell at you,” Yoongi started, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, “and besides, if he is here to yell at you, I’ll be right by your side the entire time. You know I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, right?”

You nodded, letting out a deep sigh. Yoongi smiled at you and pinched your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, brought your face up to meet his gently, and placed a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fell shut and you felt all the tension in your body flow out of your body at once. This man really did have an effect on you, and you were thankful for that in this moment. “It’s now or never, I guess.”

You and Yoongi walked hand in hand over to your cabin, standing at your front door, you hesitated before unlocking it. Yoongi squeezed your hand as a silent gesture to let you know he was with you. You took a few cautious steps into the house, silently looking around the open living room. No sign of Joon yet.

As you stepped around the corner, you could hear faint rustling coming from one of the rooms. “Joon?” You called gently, probably not quite loud enough for anyone to hear. “Namjoon?” You called a little louder. The rustling stopped. Now you heard quick footsteps, loud clumsy footsteps that you could never mistake, heading in your direction. You stood half in front of Yoongi, hands still intertwined behind your back waiting for your brother to appear. 

Namjoon stumbled out of his old bedroom, looking not at all what you expected him to look like. He was wearing an old pair of black sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that you think once had your father’s college alumni printed on it. His light purple hair, that’s new, was disheveled and sticking out in every direction, looking like he had run his hand through it at least a thousand times. But what shocked you the most, was the pure panic in his eyes. As soon as his eyes met yours, the panic seemed to dissipate, though it didn’t completely disappear. He rushed over to you, placing both his large hands on the tops of your shoulders, startling you and causing you to bump into Yoongi behind you.

“YN - Oh my god, YN,” Namjoon started to sob, head dropping down onto your shoulder. You felt Yoongi let go of your hand and placed both of his hands on your waist, holding you steady against his chest. “Thank God you’re ok! Where the hell have you been!?” Namjoon was full on crying into your shoulder now, tears staining Yoongi’s sweatshirt he had let you wear home from the hospital. You were still pretty weak on your legs from the bedrest, so you started to wobble a bit from the pressure Namjoon was putting on you.

You started to bring your hand up to lightly push back from Namjoon to maintain your balance, bracing yourself against Yoongi. Namjoon looked at you with confusion in his eyes, before he glanced up seemingly noticing the blonde man behind you for the first time.

“Who the hell are you?” Namjoon demanded, though he didn’t sound very threatening with tears flowing down his face. 

“I-” Yoongi started, but you cut him off, feeling suddenly defensive of the man you love. 

“My boyfriend,” you started, causing Yoongi’s eyes to widen slightly. It’s not that he didn’t like the new title, he was just shocked, hearing it come from you. “Why are you here, Joon?”

“Boy- boyfriend? YN what is going on? Is that where you’ve been? Sleeping around with him?” You furrowed your brow, mouth dropping open. Was he drunk? 

“Are you fucking drunk again Namjoon?!” You started to raise your voice, attempting to pull away from Yoongi, but he wasn’t letting you move any further, worried for both you and your brother at this point. He’s never heard you raise your voice, and if he’s being honest, it’s rather intimidating.

“Yeah YN, I am! I drove 3 hours down to this God forsaken cabin last night to find my baby sister missing, nowhere to be found and a bottle of empty pills in the bathroom. How the fuck do you think I was supposed to deal with this?!” He was near screaming at this point. 

You raised your finger up and pointed it right at Namjoon’s chest, “Oh, I don’t know Joon, maybe you could have actually gone out and looked for me instead of sitting on your ass and drinking yourself to death!” Yoongi had a tight grip on your upper arms at this point, making sure you didn’t get physical. He was pretty sure your brother wouldn’t hurt you, but he couldn’t say the same for you. 

Namjoon scoffed at you, taking a small step forward so your finger pushed into his firm chest. “I thought you were dead YN! I was fucking terrified I was going to find you out in that God damned lake, frozen to death. I- I-” he stuttered out, fresh tears building up at his lashes and anger dissipating, “I was scared. I didn’t want to find you out there again.”

Though Namjoon’s anger seemed to be lessening, yours was only building. “Scared? You were scared!? Why!? Because if you found me out there, you knew it would have been your fault?” You spit the last words at your brother, you knew it was low, but he literally cut you out of his life, what did you owe him?

You watched as Namjoon let the tears fall down his cheeks, biting at his trembling lower lip. “I’m so - so sorry YN,” he whimpered, actually whimpered. You don’t think you’ve ever heard your beast of an older brother whimper. “You have to under- understand that I didn’t mean what I said the other night. I listened to the voicemail a few hours after I left it and I- I was so worried when you weren’t answering your phone. I wanted to apologize, take it back, but I was scared it was too late. I even called the police the day after to ask if they- th-” he didn’t need to finish that sentence, you knew what he meant. If they found your body. You heard Yoongi inhale a sharp breath behind you, obviously affected by what Namjoon was trying to say. You nearly forgot he has been a witness to this whole scene. “They said they didn’t find… anyone. I tried to let it go, tried to let you ignore me, but I couldn’t. I had to come down here and see for myself.”

“Well, here I am. You can leave. Now,” you spat, turning around and walking towards your kitchen. “C’mon Yoongi,” you mumbled, taking Yoongi’s hand in yours. 

“YN - wait,” it wasn’t your brother’s voice that you expected to hear, but Yoongi’s. You stopped and turned around, staring at him like he grew two heads. He took a step closer to you, “You need closure, YN,” he whispered softly down at you. Your eyes softened at his ability to stay so calm and level headed throughout this entire ordeal. You blinked up at him a few times before nodding your head. 

Yoongi didn’t want to put you in a position you were uncomfortable with and he knew you didn’t want to look at your brother. Hell, he wanted to beat the shit out of Namjoon himself, but he knew you needed this. 

You took a few steps past Yoongi, stopping a few feet in front of your brother. Namjoon, who had previously been staring a hole through the carpet, met your eyes with his glistening ones. Yes, he said horrible things to you. Yes, he has treated you as if you don’t exist for the past three years. But, he’s still your brother, right? He’s quite literally the only family you have left in this world. With both your parents gone, grandparents long dead, and no other siblings, Joon was really all you had. Even though he may not deserve your forgiveness, don’t you owe it to yourself to try and patch up your relationship?

“Joon…” you trailed off, looking up at the ceiling attempting to stop the rush of tears stinging the backs of your eyes. You weren’t sure if you should tell him what happened over the last few days, since you last heard his voice. He was the reason you were in the hospital in the first place, but did you really want to make him feel the guilt for putting you there? You weren’t so sure. Your caring nature yelling at you internally to lie, to sugar coat things to spare your brother the pain. Before you could fight your internal battle, it was Namjoon who spoke first. 

“Can we talk about this, a little more privately maybe?” He questioned, his sour tone catching Yoongi’s attention. Yoongi has tried to stay quiet through all of this, hoping to let you hash it out on your own. It wasn’t his place, after all. He didn’t know your brother, and he believed you could handle yourself. But he wasn’t about to leave you alone with Namjoon, and he needed to make sure the other man knew that.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Yoongi started, folding his arms across his chest defensively, “She is in my care, after all.” He really didn’t want to play that card, unsure of how you would feel about it, but he really, really, needed Namjoon to know that he wasn’t going to budge. 

“What the hell do you mean she’s in ‘your care’?” Namjoon narrowed his eyes, shooting a questioning glare your way.

You let out a heavy sigh, briefly turning your body to give Yoongi an apologetic look. “I’ve been in the hospital, Joon. They only released me on the condition he stays with me, or vice versa.”

“Wh-what do you mean you were in the hospital?” His previous distraught look coming back, “Why didn’t you call me? I’m your family I should be the one-”

You cut him off before he could finish that statement, “Taking care of me? Namjoon, you left me at a hospital three years ago and haven’t so much as said ‘hello’ to me since then. What makes you think you have any right to even assume I would want you to care for me?” Namjoon at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself for the first time tonight.

“YN, I- I called that night, on Christmas Eve, to apologize,” he looked behind you at a glaring Yoongi before looking back at your equally enraged face, “I know, I know! I definitely didn’t do that in the voicemail that I left, ok I know,” he put his hand up as if to pacify you, “I had been drinking and I was thinking about you - in fact I - I think about you all the time. I’ve just been a terrified asshole who was too afraid you’d reject my apology. I had the courage that night and tried calling you a few times. When you didn’t answer I figured you hated me, and it set me off. I- I’m s-so sorry YN I never, ever meant to hurt you like this. I was so scared of losing you, I tried to distance myself from you, so if I did l-lose you, it wouldn’t hurt as bad as when we lost mom and dad.”

Your eyes softened minutely at his words, the fire in your eyes fleeting, but still there. “You’re fucking right you’ve been an asshole Joon,” you scoffed, “did you ever think about what I needed? How I felt? You distancing yourself from me was like having my entire family ripped away from me. You were all I had left.” Your last words were whispered, but your brother heard them loud and clear. 

Namjoon's long legs only needed two steps in your direction before you were chest to chest with him, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders. To say you were shocked was an understatement. Regardless of how much you wanted to hate your brother right now, you couldn’t deny that it felt nice to be in his familiar arms again. He hasn’t hugged you in years, and you’re feeling lightheaded from all the physical contact you’ve had in the last week. It took you a moment to respond to his hug, slowly wrapping your weak arms around his middle. He could feel the way your small frame was beginning to shake, presuming you were weak from being in the hospital. It took him a second to realize you were sobbing in his arms.

Namjoon nuzzled his face into the side of your head, having to bend a significant amount to account for the height difference, and croaked, “I’m sorry YN. I’m so, so sorry. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, please let me be here for you. Let me be your shoulder to cry on, be the one you confide in again.” He sniffled, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. “I’ll stay by your side, I won't leave you, I promise.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you blubbered out, soaking Namjoon’s shirt with your tears. He ran a hand soothingly up and down your back as he let his own silent tears fall. 

“I’ve missed you too baby sister.”

Yoongi had been a silent observer, staying back, allowing you both to have the space you needed to sort this out. At this point, he wore a small smile, arms still crossed over one another. He decided it was time for him to leave you both alone for a moment to catch up and talk things through a little further. He quietly slipped out of the living room with a plan to make some hot tea for you, briefly meeting Namjoon’s eyes which were silently thanking the older man.Yoongi gave a quick nod and turned to walk away. 

You and your brother spent the next few hours talking about everything on your living room couches. He stayed close, but not too close, to give you your own space, which you appreciated. Yoongi came back after a little while, hot tea and mugs in tow. He sat by your side, offering you silent support with a hand on your knee or shoulder. You were thankful for his presence. Even though you and Namjoon had talked some things out, you still felt a little awkward with him here. 

You told Namjoon about your job and how you haven’t left it yet, despite hating your boss for so long. You talked about your life in Busan and how you moved into a new apartment a couple years back. He told you about his studio, Rkive, in Seoul and how he’s been working with some pretty big names recently. He was hopeful that one of his songs was up for Song of the Year for some award show next month. You expressed how proud you were of him, finally having the chance to tell him. Most importantly, you talked about your brief stay at the rehab facility three years ago and your most recent stay in the hospital here. You both cried when you talked about your second attempt at your life. You hugged each other and Namjoon apologized profusely to you, which you graciously accepted.

After you had spilled all your collective tears and put everything out on the table, Namjoon turned his attention to the other man in the room, who up until this point, had been completely quiet. “Yoongi?”

Yoongi was taken by surprise at the sound of his name coming from Namjoon’s mouth. Eyebrows raised, he looked at the purple haired man sitting across from him, “Hmm?” 

“I wanted to thank you,” Namjoon said apologetically, “I don’t know you, but you saved my sister. She also seems to trust you,” he gave you a quick smile, showing off one of his dimples, “so I guess I should, too. But really, man, thank you. I don’t know what I would do if I lost her.” His gaze fell to his hands that were clasped in his lap.

Yoongi sat up a little straighter on the couch before answering, “You don’t have to thank me. I share the sentiment, I don’t know what I would do without her.” He smiled down at your, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, making you give him a small smile in return. “I really love her,” he said lovingly. He was talking to Namjoon, but he was staring into your eyes, getting lost in them for a moment. Namjoon noticed this, and couldn’t hide the smile that was spreading across his own face. That’s when he knew you were in good hands. He trusted Yoongi.

The next hour passed by quickly, sharing more stories amongst the three of you. Eventually Namjoon told you he had to get going, needing to be back in Seoul for a meeting tomorrow morning. He offered to cancel and stay the night, but you and Yoongi both told him he should go, and not to worry about you. If Yoongi wasn’t here, Namjoon would have definitely canceled, but he felt good about leaving you with him 

You wrapped your arms around your brother's neck, reaching up on your tiptoes. Namjoons arms wrapped around your middle, lifting you up slightly as he whispered in your ear, “I love you baby sister, please don’t forget that. I never stopped loving you.”

“I love you too Joon, don’t be a stranger.”

“I won't, trust me,” he let out a short laugh, devoid of any humor before setting you back down on your feet. He turned to look at Yoongi, before reaching out to shake his hand. Yoongi walked the short distance to grab his hand, only to be pulled into Namjoon’s frame for a hug. “Thank you again, Yoongi. I wish I could stay longer to get to know you a little better, but it was really nice to meet you.”

“I’m sure there will be more opportunities for us to meet,” Yoongi said, with an almost demanding tone. Namjoon took the warning for what it was, leaving you a little oblivious next to them. “Drive safe.”

Namjoon pulled away, giving you one final smile, before turning around to take his leave. You stood in the doorway, watching your brother start his car and pull out of the driveway. You knew you had plenty more unresolved issues and a lot more to discuss, but for now, your chest felt lighter at the aspect of having your brother back in your life. You were a little sad that he had to leave so quickly, when you felt like you just got him back, but were hopeful you would see him soon. 

Yoongi could feel your mood shift slightly, moving to wrap his arms around you from behind in a comforting back hug. You closed and locked the front door before turning around in his grasp. “I’m sorry,” you murmured into his chest. You didn’t see it, but Yoongi looked down at you in confusion.

“Why are you sorry, love?” He inquired, rubbing a hand up and down your spine.

“I’m sorry you had to sit here all night and listen to me cry,” you began, “I’m also sorry you had to meet my brother under such circumstances.”

“Don’t be sorry, YN. I’m so happy you were able to see Namjoon again and talk about things. I know it can be hard to talk about these things, and I know it must be hard to let him back into your life suddenly, but I know it will be helpful to you in the long run. I only want you to be happy, love.”

You look up at Yoongi in complete awe. How was this man in love with you? A broken shell of a person, with her weights worth of baggage. What did you do to deserve him? The literal epitome of perfection.

“Don’t thank me,” Yoongi lightly scolded, a smile on his face. “I can practically hear your thoughts right now.”

You scoffed, mock offended, putting your hands on his chest to playfully pull away. He wasn’t having it though, and pulled you back into him, rocking you both back and forth gently. “Oh no you don’t, you’re mine tonight,” you know he meant it in a playful way, but it did things to you that you didn’t want to admit to yourself right now, “I told you I wanted to lay with you properly and I’ve been waiting way too long to finally do that.”

“Let’s go to bed,” you began, taking Yoongi’s hand in your, walking down the hallway towards your bedroom. 

“Sounds like a great plan,” Yoongi said, following after you obediently. 

After you and Yoongi both got changed (Yoongi having to run home to grab some things, and also grab a very unamused cat), you kneeled in the corner of your room playing with Mochi, who lay in his cat bed that Yoongi also brought over. 

Yoongi was laying back on your pink sheets, arms crossed behind his head, watching you in amusement. “He really likes you, you know.”

You looked over your shoulder with a toothy smile on your face. Yoongi very nearly melted into your mattress at the sight. “You think so?” Yoongi nodded as you turned back around to face the Calico in front of you. “Well, I really like him too,” you cooed at the cat in question as he arched his back into your pets. After you had your fill of cuddles, you slowly stood up from your crouching position, causing Mochi to mewl.

Yoongi let out a loud laugh from his spot on your bed. “Yeah, I would say he definitely likes you.”

You laughed along with Yoongi while turning the lamp on your side table off. Yoongi scooted over on the bed to make room for you, pulling the pink and white comforter back. You gladly took your spot on the bed, rolling on your side to face Yoongi. To say you were nervous was a big understatement. “I’m gonna miss him when I go back to Busan,” you whispered sadly. 

“I’m glad my cat made such a big impact on you,” Yoongi said dryly, deadpanning in your direction.

You giggled quietly and shushed him. “Of course I’m gonna miss you too, Yoongi. I thought that was a given.”

“I mean, it’s still nice to hear,” he gently smiled down at you before draping one arm over your side, placing his warm hand on your lower back. He nudged your back a little, signaling you to move closer, to which you obliged. “You know, you don’t have to go back,” Yoongi whispered, hopefully. 

“Yoongs, I have to,” Yoongi smiled his signature gummy smile at the nickname making you stifle a laugh, “my job is there, I have an apartment there. I can’t just leave.”

“Is this cabin paid off?” Yoongi asked abruptly, before you could continue making excuses.

“Yes…” you trailed off hesitantly. 

“Then you could leave your lease in Busan, and move to the cabin. I know you love your job, but there is an animal shelter here. It’s where I got Mochi from,” the cat meowed softly in the corner, making you smile again, “I could put in a good word for you.”

Yoongi was so thoughtful. I definitely don’t deserve this man, you thought to yourself. Yoongi chuckled and raised his hand to brush a strand of hair over your shoulder. “Did I just say that outloud?” You asked, mortified for Yoongi’s answer.

He just nodded, still giggling. “YN you deserve the world, and I will work every day to make sure you believe that.” 

Your cheeks were hot, but your heart was full at his words. This beautiful man in front of you wanted to give you the world, wanted to make sure you never wanted for more in your life. Who were you to turn down such an offer? What did you have to lose anyways? A shitty paycheck and an even shitter apartment. That’s what.

“Okay.” You state simply.

“Okay?” Yoongi perked up, lifting his head a bit to stare at you. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight shining through your window that you could see the way his eyes lit up at your words. You smiled a bright smile at him, nodding your head aggressively. “Do you mean that?” Now he was sporting a smile to match your own.

“Yes, Yoongi. I’ll do it. I want to do it. I’m ready.” You smiled, because you were. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken truer words. You were ready. Ready to put Busan behind you, ready to start a new life with Yoongi. 

“I love you YN,” Yoongi said seriously, searching your eyes for any bit of hesitance, to which he found none, “I mean it, love.” He looked down to your pink lips, and back up at your eyes. 

Your breath caught in your throat, the feeling of butterflies suffocating your lungs was a good one for once. You nibbled on your bottom lip and exhaled shakily. Yoongi grunted, a sound you realized you found incredibly sexy and wanted to commit to memory for a rainy day. He was staring at you intensely, silently asking for permission, which you granted with a quick nod of your head.

Yoongi’s lips crashed onto yours with an intensity you’ve never felt before. The flutter in your chest only increased as his soft lips moved against yours. All you could feel, taste, smell, was Yoongi. You inhaled his citrus-y scent, letting it surround you and he brought his free hand up to your burning cheek while his other caressed your side gently. He tasted better than you could have ever imagined, a little minty, and you were immediately hooked. His kiss was like the nicotine you craved from your cigarettes, your new addiction. Your lips moved together synchronously for a few minutes before both of your lungs burned for oxygen and you reluctantly pulled away. 

Yoongi held your face in his hands like fragile China, reveling in this moment here with you, your face illuminated by the moon shining through your window. He saw galaxies in your lust filled eyes, the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

“Thank you, YN,” Yoongi whispered breathlessly, mere centimeters from your lips.

“For what?” You asked, just as breathless, chest heaving.

“For giving me one more day.”

© aliendes | copyright 2020

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Jinxed-Part 1

Calum’s so used to fucking up that when a second chance comes his way he’s not sure what to do with it. Demon!Calum. Black!OC. 

CW: 18+ Content (Smut), Blood, Gore, Violence, and Death mentions. 

Enjoy my masterlist. 

Support me on kofi. 

No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go.

_____________________________________

He wasn’t sent here to find companionship. He was here to wreck havoc, collect the souls that needed to be returned, find the ones that managed to escape the other Hunters. One such soul was proving difficult for Calum. He sat at the bar, just about every night, drinking whiskey straight. The bartenders were starting to recognize him. Always donned in his leather jacket and his dark curls always pushed back just a little from his forehead.  All his intel was leading him here, at this bar. So he sat, and waited, and waited and sat. 

Tonight is no different. The attire, all black from the beanie to the boots. The jacket was the only thing that distinguished him from staff. Tucked in his corner, Calum sipped at the glass. It didn’t taste like much to him anymore. His human form still taking perks from the previous demonic state. Alcohol truly had no effect on him and it all started to taste somewhat the same. Except for vodka and whiskey. And he couldn’t sip on just vodka at the bar. So he nurses his whiskey just like any other night. 

Women approach his table, twirling hair, batting eyelashes. Calum wasn’t going to ignore them either. He smiled, flirted with some of them, went back to their place with some of them. He never made it a habit to do that. But he indulged himself. He let himself enjoy the visceral pull of his gut to be satisfied, even if it would never actually satisfied. Calum watches as the doors open, a group of girls walking in. Nothing about them reads highly distinctive. Yes, they’re attractive. But in the short skirts, and dresses, and high heels, they look like every other girl here. 

There’s another girl that trails behind the main group, shirt hiding practically nothing of her bust. The black pants with a high thigh slit, revealing an assortment of tattoos on her upper thighs. That’s all Calum catches of her, besides the red undertone of her dark brown skin and high ponytail. As she disappears into the crowd, catching up the group Calum watches. Her smile is dazzling. But he thinks he shouldn’t get caught up tonight. Something in the air tells him he’ll find the guy tonight. 

The night progresses, slowly, like watching the second hand of a clock go around. Maybe this asshat won’t show. Calum looks over the crowd, hoping he can spot that girl again. When his gaze does land on her, she’s at the bar. The guy he’s here to snatch up is leaning in mighty close. When she withdraws her arm from his touch once, Calum’s already pushing out of seat. When she steps back a second time from this guy, Calum barrels his way through the crowd. Everyone knows his human form. Everyone that should be scared of him does at least. 

Approaching the bar, Calum smiles at the girl, sliding right up next to the asshole. “Tell me, miss,” he shouts, “is this asshole bothering you?”

She eyes him, unsure of what the hell is happening but she still nods. “He is,” she answers, watching the fear overtaking the creep’s face. 

Calum smiles, taking the collar of their jacket into his fist. “Well, good thing he’s leaving. If you’d like, take a crack at him.” 

The guy is stumbling over his words, pleading with her that he needs help. But she doesn’t feel for him. She doesn’t have it in her to punch this guy though. Even though he’s definitely a creep, she doesn’t have the heart. She shakes her head, looking down to the worn wood of the bar beneath the spill mat. “I-I can’t.”

Calum looks at his side profile. “You should thank her. Much too sweet to push your teeth in. Now, let’s apologize. And you and I, we’re going to have a little chat.”

At first, the only words the guy gets out are how she has to help him. But with a quick strike to the back of his knee from Calum, the man buckles and apologizes, holding himself by leaning into the sturdy bar. “I’m so sorry,” he rushes out. 

Calum waste no time hauling the man up and dragging him out. She watches the dark man, in the black beanie haul out the creep, his feet literally dangling above the floor. That can’t be real, she thinks to herself, blinking as if to see straight. But she has to be seeing straight. She’s only one drink in for the night. She’s not that drunk. Not even drunk at all. But how the hell did he get over to her so fast? And how the hell was he able to carry that guy out like that? 

She watches the door, like he’s going to walk back through them any moment. She saw him early, perched in the corner, sipping from a glass. She didn’t know what it was. But he just sipped occasionally. Was he security? She knew from her dad’s stories that sometimes bouncers had “drinks” but never actually drink so they could blend in when walking the dancefloor. But he never walked the dancefloor, at least not from what she could tell. 

“Rubs, you okay?” Kourtney’s, Ruby’s friend, voice is clear over the bars of Cardi B’s mantra about money bags. Rubs, short for Ruby, though it was never really short. It was a name she used for herself. She never liked giving out her real name. She disliked it too much. Heard it too many times with anger and malicious intent behind it. So she makes sure she never hears it again. 

“Yeah-yeah, I’m okay,” she breathes. But her gaze never leaves that door. “I’m just--feet hurt from all the dancing,” she says finally turning her gaze back to Kourtney. “I’m just going to chill here. If you want, I can hold you guys’ stuff.”

“You sure? It’s your birthday. C’mon, just dance. Cut loose.”

Her laughter falls out of her, watching her friend’s attempt to seduce her back to the dance floor by twerking in her face. Rubs taps Kourt’s ass a couple times before giving in. It is her birthday. And even though that creep had tried to sour her night, someone else had been right there to make it better. She watches that front door. Never lets her gaze fall too far from it. She’s dancing into a girl, she’s not sure who really. Ruby catches their perfume though and lets herself be pulled back into them. 

She’s grinder deeper into the girl. Her knees aren’t hurting her, but she straightens back up, ass still clapping behind her when she catches the beanie covered head moving through the crowd. There’s no need to even try and apologize, to try and excuse herself. She just straightens up and shuffles through the bodies. No amount of excuse me’s are ever heard and people will still give her dirty looks for bumping into them. 

As she clears the dance floor, she sees him settle back into his corner. At a high table just big enough for two. This is her chance. At the bar, she smiles. All the bartenders know it’s her birthday and she manages to squeeze a free drink for herself and the mysterious man. “Vodka cranberry and whatever he’s drinking up there,” she says nodding her head in his direction. The drinks come out a few moments later. 

Before walking over to his table, she adjusts the shirt, pulling more of it up over her chest, situating the girls back into position. The chair scrapes against the floor and his dark eyes dance in shitty strobe lights of the club. He pretended not to notice her, but she saw her immediate bee line off the dance floor. She sets the drink down first before climbing into the seat across from next to him. He’s moved them so they both face the entire establishment. “What’s your name? Hawk or Eagle Eye?” she teases. 

Calum twists his mouth up, pondering for a moment. “Close. It’s Calum.”

“Ruby,” she returns. Then it’s silent for a beat. “Look, I-I wanted to say thanks for earlier. That guy was a total creep. And you didn’t have to step in like that. But I really appreciate it. So I got you a drink. To say, thanks.”

He doesn’t call attention to the one already in his hand. His smile is genuine. “You’re welcome. And thanks.”

She watches the way he twirls his first drink in his hands, the rings sometimes softly clinking against the glass. The tattoos on his hands, they’re initials. She wants to ask, but she swallows that curiosity down. “If you want a dance, I’ll be somewhere down in there,” she offers and then slips from the seat. Doesn’t wait for Calum to confirm, or to say no. She disappears back into the thick of the crowd. Calum decides not to take her up on that offer but does offer to return the drink favor. Whenever she’s up for another one of course. 

She dances for a while. Her smile big as she dances with the group she came in with. It’s a bit before she takes her herself back to the bar. He slips from his spot, second drink in hand this time. While at the bar, he learns it’s her birthday. “I feel terrible,” he teases. “Don’t have a present for you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll count the drink, Calum. Thanks.”

He nods, looks over the drink, nothing’s been tampered with it and then settles back at his perch. He watches her and her friends, even as they pile into the back of the Uber. He follows from a distance, watching as the all pile into one house. It’s probably not the smartest thing to follow her. But he has to make sure they get home safely. Especially since it’s her birthday. 

When Calum returns to his apartment, he flicks on the TV, knowing nothing will be on. But it’s habit. It’s background noise. He feels bad if he please music this late, his neighbors need their sleep and he doesn’t want to be that asshole. So he settles for late night reruns of shows he knows almost too well and feels ashamed for knowing them as well as he does. Already sitting on the kitchen table is his list. More people that have bargained with the Devil and have forgotten that there is still a price to pay. It’s all ironic. His job is never done, their hope never seems to faltar until they see his face. Until they are forced to realize, time has run out. 

___

It’s crazy to go back to that bar a few nights later. She knows it. She knows that she really shouldn’t be expecting Calum perched in that back corner, eyes catching everything. But when she walks in and actually sees him, she thinks there must be a payoff for being crazy sometimes. Because why else on earth would she have dragged herself nearly an hour across town just to get a glimpse of this guy?

 There’s no beanie this time. But his hooded eyes and brown skin are more than enough to ease her worries. Calum spots her too, the second she cracks open the door, he notes her scent. That’s insane he thinks to be able to pick someone out of a crowd just by the way they smell. But he does it. Her hair is the same, braided on the sides, the top slicked back and it all leads to the ponytail. The ends are wavy this time instead of the sleek, straight look when they first met. 

He shouldn’t be so delighted to see her. He should be telling himself to get up, slip onto the dancefloor before she has the chance to catch him and slip out the backdoor near the restrooms. Someone that comes back once will come back again--he’s learned that over his years. Though years feels much to short, much to finite for the time he’s been alive and serving. He was human once. He remembers the way it feels to feel so invincible. 

She pauses at the bar, eyes still flicking up to meet his. Calum wonders if she knows. It would be impossible for her to know. He’s not in his other form. He’s never even hinted to it. All he did was save her from a creep. But she watches him, like he’s going to suddenly evaporate from existence. Not that Calum couldn’t zip away without being detected. But instead he sits perfectly still. She’s in jeans this time, her top black and sheer with a bralette beneath it. She’s in sneakers though, a style the resembles Keds. 

Her climb into the chair is smoother this time. No chunky heels in the way. “It’s a shame you don’t have a drink yet,” Ruby smiles, sliding the glass towards him. 

“Another thank you drink?” “No.” She’s not sure how to explain what the drinks means. Unsure on whether to call it a I think you’re cute drink or a I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m definitely flirting drink. Maybe it’s better undefined anyway. Maybe she doesn’t have to label everything to death. “It’s just a drink. Because I saw you empty handed.”

“Well, I think I should return the favor. What’s your poison?”

She gives a head shake no. “Nothing tonight. I drove over her.”

He scoffs. “They have a whole line of sodas. What’ll you have?”

“Sprite.”

He nods, slips of his chair and walks to the bar. It’s not a long wait until the fizzy clear drink is in his hands. He hands it to her before climbing back into the chair. “What brings you out tonight?”

The word ‘you’ dangles from lips. But she swallows it down with a sip of her drink. “Just out. What about you?”

“Just out too, I guess.” They sip on their drinks in a lull. It’s not awkward, shockingly. She takes in the cut of his jaw, the way his eyes are always moving over the crowd. 

Words are falling over her lips before she can stop herself. “You’re not a bouncer, are you?” Calum shakes his head no. “So, are you like ex-military or something? Ex-law enforcement?”

He wonders what gives her that impression. But she must know someone that was for those to be her first guesses. He gives another shake no. “Where is the prefer not to say box?” he jokes, looking over to her. 

“Fair, that’s fair. Only asked because my dad. He used to do something similar. Sit with his back to the wall, see all the exits. Ex-SWAT, but you never take the officer of the person. Just the badge and the gun.”

He wonders if she grew up with a lot of discipline. The thought really only crosses his mind when he notices the way she sits perfectly straight in her hair. Not a slouch or a curve in her back. “Sounds intense,” Calum offers. 

She shrugs, going in for another sip. “At some point I think my brain just shut off. I always knew there was a chance he wasn’t coming home. I just didn’t compute it. Whenever he was in bed in the morning, it was great. But when he wasn’t, I never panicked. I just--kind of went on autopilot. Went to school, did work, played, did homework. Annoyed the shit of my younger sister. Just went about life.”

Calum reaches for the glass and swirls it around, taking a dramatic inhale. “Just making sure nothing is in that sprite. I watched them pour it too.”

Ruby laughs, eyes closing, reclining into the chair a bit more. “I know. Heavy for the club. Sorry.”

“Don’t.” The word falls just by itself at first. Nothing else. And then Calum sees the shift. How she sits back up straight. Was his tone harsh? He then adds on, “You don’t have to apologize.”

She nods, hiding in the glass. She can’t just ask to hook up with a guy, can she? She’s kind of used to it but not this sober. Calum can feel the tension build up. That there’s something she wants to say but can’t bring herself to say it. So instead he throws out a compliment, about her shoes. She laughs. “In all honesty, I had to drive nearly an hour out here. I wasn’t going to attempt to do that in heels. And I was too lazy to change out of them.”

“I thought you were just out?”

The heat of her cheeks makes her fan herself a little. Is she going to be this forward? She might as well, since she’s already put one foot in her mouth. What’s another one? “I might have driven all the way out here, in hopes to see you.”

Calum nearly chokes on his drink. An hour to potentially run into him? Calum’s always the chaser, always running after someone else. He’s never once stop to think about how nice it is to actually be persused just a little. She hands him a napkin, laughing at the wide eyes. “A shock I take it?”

“Sorry. But I hate to think you could’ve wasted that time and gas.”

Her eyes twinkle, the skin crinkling around her eyes just a little as the smug grin crosses her face. “But I didn’t.”

Turning to her, Calum thinks he’s done enough for tonight. Those people won’t disappear off the face of the earth. He can always find them tomorrow. He reaches out, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. “No, trust, you didn’t. I live three blocks from here.”

The walk to Calum’s place isn’t long. They keep mostly to themselves, talking about random things, Calum tells a story about the dinner they passed on the way when he got a face full of burger by accident. Ruby tells a story in rebuttal how she used to be a waitress and spilled coffee on someone once. As they reach the steps to his apartment, Ruby reaches out, nails scratching right at his scalp. Calum pauses his work at twisting the key, eyes closing. A small shiver runs down his spine. 

Her tone is dripping with desire as she speaks, “Cat got your tongue.”

“No, but my tongue will have something else,” he quips.

There’s no wasted time when both of them cross the threshold. Calum pins Ruby to the wall, kissing across her jaw, fingers make quick work of her belt and pants. His fingers trail the band of her panties. His lips find her collarbone, sucking purple marks into the dark brown flesh. Her fingers dig into his shoulder beneath the leather jacket, before trailing back into his hair. The air is filled with her soft moans. 

She works at getting his belt undone as his fingers trail down into the thin material of her underwear. Lace by the feel of it. She’s not quite soaked-- there’s some slickness there. Calum knows all too well what buttons to push though. He brings his hand back up, trailing over the hem of her shirt. She’s pulling his belt free from his jeans, shoving down the denim. Her fingers trace over the tops of his thighs. 

“Eager, aren’t we?” Calum teases, pulling back from her. He slips the jacket over his arms, pulling the shirt up and over too. 

Her eyes dart over the two tattoos right along his collarbones. She watches him pull his shoes off and toes hers off herself. His pants are the next to go as well. Her jeans are tight. She hates the way they catch sometimes around her hips and thighs. Before she can get them down to her knees, Calum takes both her wrist and pins them to the wall above her head. 

Ruby huffs, hating the fact she can’t touch his skin, can’t pull him in close. She bucks and he presses down harder. He can’t press down too hard, or he’ll actually hurt her. “Relax,” he commands. “You’ll get a taste.”

A low growl escapes her throat, chest heaving as she tries to pull against his hold. God, he’s strong and that turns her on more. She clenches, squeezing to relieve the ache building. Both of them gaze at each other. He waits--she must say something. But her lips don’t so much as quirk. “Cat got your tongue?” Calum quips. 

“Your mouth is doing a lot right now but it could be doing better things.”

Calum’s laugh is dry, more of a bark too. “My dear, I’m not the one who drove all this way.”

“You’ll be glad I did.”

“You’re almost too sure about that.”

She shakes her head, hair shaking with the movement as well. Calum runs his fingers through it of his free hand. The strands are soft and silky, the black a contrast to his skin. “I’m not being cocky about this.” His hand slides across her chest, over the scratchy material of her shirt before closing around her throat. 

“I wonder if you’re a beggar.” 

“Beg? For you? You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t that just make your cock twitch?” 

So, she’s a brat. He likes a brat. A bit of a challenge. Most women he goes home with like one thing. To get straight to the point. But there’s something to Ruby, this sweet girl with a pointedness. Not quite socially awkward, but still reserved in a sense. But now here she is, pinned to his wall, throat tucked neatly under his palm. She doesn’t shy away from it, she doesn’t look away. She stares directly at him; she waits. There’s no fear. 

“If you so much as think about lifting your arms from the wall, you’ll be sorry. Understood?” He adds a little more pressure to her throat, watches as her eyelids flutter. 

She speaks, albeit in a whisper because of his hand. “Understood.”

Calum releases her wrist, and slowly peels his hand from her throat before sinking to his knees and tugging the jeans down and off her. Her thighs are soft in his hands, a prominent jiggle when he gives them a stern slap. A laugh falls from her throat. Calum looks up to see her eyes closed, arms still pressed into the wall. 

He half-way expected her to grab his hair, disobeying his order. But then he thinks back to the bar. The way she snapped up straight when he told her not to apologize. She gets off on obeying. But enjoys the rile, seeing someone worked up. Her skin reddened from his palm. Ruby lets her knees buckles just a little when Calum kisses her thighs. He can see now a small wet spot forming at the crotch of her pink panties. He finds the mix match endearing. But doesn’t dwell too long before pulling them down her legs. 

She glistens and all Calum wants is a taste. When his mouth connects, Ruby’s whole body relaxes. The apprehension finally cut. Though his tongue flicks at her clit and the pleasure courses through her. Her muscles tense. His large palm cups her ass, pushing her off the wall. The noises are sinful as Calum holds her closer to his tongue. Her pants bounce off the ceiling. A string of curses falling from her lips. 

Her hands eventually fall from the wall. Her nails trailing over his shoulders but never daring to delve into his hair. He pulls from her core, tugging lightly on her clit before releasing it. “Scared to touch me now, sweetheart?”

Her only response is to grip his hair, pulling his mouth to meet her center. His laughter vibrates against her. A yelp falls from her lips at the sensation. Calum hums when her grip tightens. He’s always liked a little bit of pain. It’s always sparked a fire deep in his gut. So he doesn’t shy away from her harsh grip. A moan falls from her at a moment or two later Calum replies with his own. Her thighs are shaking in his hands. Ruby’s arched into the wall, to keep some balance. Calum can sense she’s wobbling. Wrapping his arms around her legs, he pushes her into the wall, legs thrown over his shoulder. Most of her weight now pressed up into the wall, but he helps keep her supported. 

When she comes, it’s with a whine and a chorus of swears. Calum pulls away from her. She could keep herself up if she wanted, but instead Ruby lets herself slide down the wall. “Got anything else smart to say?” he questions. 

His remarks earns him a shove to the shoulder with her foot. “I always have something smart to say.”

He captures her ankle, kissing the joint and the trails butterfly kisses up the inside of her calf. “I’d like to hear them.”

Ruby pulls her leg back and Calum watches as she pushes to her hands and knees, crawling, though the distance is short, to him. “I bet.”

Calum scoots back, butt sliding over the hardwood floor with ease. She follows. He scoots again, pushing to his knees. Would she actually crawl all the way to his bedroom? From his knees he stands, walking backwards. She follows, grinning. “What? This get you off to? Someone on their hands and knees for you?” Her voice is still breathy. 

“If I said no, I would be a liar.”

They walk, and in Ruby’s case, crawl to the bedroom. Right outside the threshold, Calum extends his hand. She takes it, only a few pops can be hard as she straightens. “You didn’t hear anything.”

“Not a single sound.”

Up close, she can still see her mess on his face. It’s not easy, but she gets up on her tippy toes and swipes her tongue over his chin and lips. Calum holds her face with his hands, keeping her there as they kiss. Somewhere in the heated touches, her shirt and bra are discarded. The air feels different now. Electric but somehow a vortex spiraling her further and further down. Calum is the only thing that keeps her grounded, kissing his warm skin, biting at his muscles.Her arousal is leaking from her again, he can feel it. 

He kisses up her shoulder, over the side of her neck. His breathe right in her ear. “Since you like being on your knees so much, why don’t you kneel for me, face down, ass up?”

Arching up, Ruby situates herself in the middle of the bed, ass up, face pressed down into the mattress. It’s a gorgeous sight, Calum thinks, tearing open the foil packet. He gives each of her cheeks a swat, watching as they turn red and bounce. “You hit hard,” she pants. Nerves strike his chest. Did he really hit too hard? “I like it.”

He exhales, slipping the latex over his cock and gives her another two swats. “Since you like it so much.”

Her laughter is muffled, but still audible. “Thank you.”

Calum lines himself up, slowly pushing into her. He’s used to always taking the intial thrust slow but Ruby settles back onto him. Clearly he is wasting too much time with being gentle. He gives her another swat to her right cheek and then another to the left. She doesn’t try to outpace Calum, though, occasionally she bounces back. He has none of that. He takes his hips into his hands, stilling her. Her arch never falters, face pressed harder and harder into the mattress by Calum’s sharp thrusts. Her hair, all too inviting. Calum reaches for the ends, just to play with it before finding the hold of the ponytail. He pulls her upward, her hissing is music to his ears. 

“Fuck,” she sighs, arching more to keep the angle. 

Her curses are matched by Calum’s own. “Look at that ass bounce for me,” he growls. He slows on purpose, just to give her another swat. But she can feel the fire in her gut. She is not in the business of playing too many games. Pressing herself back, she tries to encourage him to go faster again. All it does it make him slow until she’s fucking herself on his sock. “Such a good girl,” he mutters. 

His hold is still wound around her hair. Her moans reach a higher pitch, beginning to sound like a bit of a whine. But her hips never slow. “God, fuck,” she sighs. Her orgasm falls over it, thighs shaking. She wants to collapse, to just give in. But she hears the way Calum groans, the quiet, ‘Oh shit’ he breathes and she pushes herself up. She knows one thing she wants more than sleep, his release. 

Pressing back hard, she arches a little more. “Cum for me, Calum. You know you want to. You know you need it.”

Need it--what he needs is for her to never stop riding him like this. God, what he needs is her whines imprinted into his brain. “You gonna make me cum?” he returns. She says nothing, and needs not say anything as she snaps back and forth of his cock. “Oh my god,” he groans, letting go of her hair. His release is close. He can feel it in his toes, the way it’s knotting in his stomach. “Just like that, baby,” he breathes. 

“That’s right,” she encourages. “Cum for me.” She can’t quite feel the start of his releases, but he hears it as he comes, the way his hips rut up. He holds her by her hips, buried deep inside her. His cry is a grunt that’s choked out towards the end. 

Ruby finally lets herself fall into the bed, Calum’s weight mostly on top of her. He kisses down her spine before pulling out gently. She pushes herself up, laughing as she asks which way to the bathroom. Her clothes are everywhere after her trip to the bathroom. But she finds her underwear and jeans up front and walks back into the bedroom to find her bralette. 

“Dressed already?” Calum’s spread on the bed, his boxers pulled back up over himself. But that’s all. Ruby doesn’t speak. It should be obvious that she can’t say. “You’re an hour from your house. It’s almost two in the morning.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assures, pulling the straps up. 

“You have to walk three blocks just to get to your car. I’m not letting you do that. Not this late at night and definitely not by yourself.”

“What are you going to do? Walk back with me to my chair?”

“Yeah. In the morning.”

“That’s going to be awkward.” She doesn’t miss the eye roll. Somehow it stings. She knows it’s probably a better idea to just wait until morning. 

“It won’t be awkward. Take those jeans off, put your shirt down and lay down.” Ruby tosses the shirt onto the chair in the corner of his room. Everyone has that chair where clothes, jackets, and junk are deposited. Shimmying down the jeans a second time tonight, she steps out of them, throwing them onto the chair too. As she settles onto the mattress, Calum brings the sheets up. He doesn’t miss that she wears her bra and panties still. 

“I’m a side sleeper, so I’m not ignoring you I promise,” she laughs. 

“Noted.” Sleep never finds Calum anymore. He’s never needs it anymore. But he lets himself fall into the springs, eyes closed. He lays, arms folded behind his head and keeps himself still. For the moment. It’s not too much longer that he can tell she’s asleep, the sheets move slower now. Her breathing deeper now. 

This isn’t how these nights usually go. He’s never really brought someone over to his place. But he finds a certain spark of joy in having someone in bed next to him. Yes, they’re practically a stranger. But for the small moments before he slips out of the bed, it’s nice. 

___ That would be the end of his story with Ruby if not for a week later, he runs into her. On her side of town. The girl he’s after is crafty. She’s changed her hair since they last time she was spotted. But he knows she hangs around the beauty salon as a nail technician. So he decided to make an consultation. He’s no stranger to a hair salon and isn’t afraid to use whatever means necessary. From the front entry, he can almost see clear to the back. There’s something behind part of the wall, he can’t see, but as the door chimes and he steps in, he figures once he gets into the ladies chair he can scope it out. 

There’s a chorus of a welcome from the women working. Some ladies sit off to the side, waiting as well. He walks up to the front desk, smiling at the young girl there. “Hello, how are you?” she greets.

“Good. You?” 

“Well. How can I help you today?” 

“I have an appointment with Dione,” he answers. “Under Hood. Calum.”

She looks over the book and nods. “She’ll be with you in just a moment. Feel free to have a seat.” 

Calum nods before walking over to the seating area, and plops down. From this angle he can see the nail area. Though it’s empty for the time being. But from the back, he spots Ruby, walking up front, someone behind her. He must’ve called her name because she looks up, brows pulled together in confusion. Her features soften after they settle on him. Of all the places the girl could be, he’s shocked. No, scratched that he’s floored. 

He can’t help but think she’s gorgeous even in the black apron and crocs. He snorts, mostly to himself when he sees them. She turns back to client. They talk lowly and after she’s paid she turns back to Calum. “Well this is a surprise,” Ruby laughs. “How’d you find me?”

“I didn’t. I just needed a good stylist.” He could ask her. She’s sure to know everyone that comes through this salon. But before he can ask his name is called. 

So he stands. But stops pulling Ruby in close. “Can you squeeze me in after this?”

“You know I do brows right?”

He grins. “Have you seen these caterpillar? I need it.”  

“Yeah I can squeeze you in.” The hair consultation doesn’t take long. But he’s hoping that if he lingers just a little longer that she’ll show up. When it’s done, Ruby waves for him to follow. They walk down the corridor. She’ll have no questions no doubt. But he’s less concerned about that. He needs answers and fast. 

Calum settles into the chair but Ruby doesn’t recline it. She studies him for a moment, brows knitting back together.“Do you really need your brows done or is this some sort of excuse?”

“In all honesty, I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Niq. I need to know when she comes in again, or if you know about were she hangs out.”

“Niq keeps to herself mostly. She works everyday the shop is open. She’s a good kid.”

They’re all good kids he thinks. They always are on the second or third leg. He can feel the sincerity off her. The concern. He wonders for a moment if she’s older than he figured. He aged her at about early twenties, the physical age his human form stopped aging. “Look, she’s in some trouble. I’m just trying to help her.”

Ruby’s features soften. She’s worried. Niq isn’t the type to be in major trouble. Granted, she doesn’t talk about her past. She just needed a place to lay low she said, make money to make ends meet. And that’s all she ever did. They didn’t hang out on the weekends but she never fussed with anyone. She never went out of her way to be spiteful. “She’s out getting lunch for us.”

“When will she be back? I really need to speak with her. Keep her out of trouble.” The words fall so easily. Calum doesn’t even have to think about what he’s saying. From the front, the door chimes. Ruby holds up a hand for him to stay seated and she peeks out the door. Niq stands at the door, bags and cup holders in her hand. Whatever trouble she’s in, Calum will surely help her out. 

Ruby turns around. “That’s her. She just walked in. Should I get her to come back here?” 

While Calum knows Niq to be evasive, she’s never been hostile. He shakes his head. “We’ll go up front, I’ll pay, like nothing happened. She knows who I am.”

“Okay. Is she gonna be alright? Like what’s going on?”

He keeps quiet, just stands from the seat and waves for her to walk first. He won’t answer her. She takes it as she’s better off not knowing. Her heart hammers in her chest when she starts to the front of the salon. What trouble had Niq gotten into to? Ruby knew gang violence was huge in the surrounding area. Had Niq gotten involved with the wrong guy? Was Calum connected? All her thoughts  raced along with her heart but she tried to keep up appearances. 

Niq smiles at Ruby and even at Calum. He nods in return, sliding Ruby a twenty. A silent conversation in nods occurs between Calum and Niq. He heads out the front door. He considers the possibility that Niq could try and bolt out the back door. So he pats his pockets, snaps his fingers and spins back around. Calum knows he hasn’t forgotten anything. But if he can keep his cover for just a wee bit longer, he can walk back into the salon without a single batting lash. 

“Forget something?” Ruby asks. 

“Keys,” is Calum’s simple reply, noting Niq shuffling towards the back of the salon. She’s making good distance before Calum figures he’ll have to be had. 

Ruby feels the hairs on her arms stand up with Calum behind her. The air buzzes, she can feel it in her chest. Calum’s never going to catch her if Ruby is in the way. Niq won’t make it far. Ruby veers into the room to double check the seat for any sign of keys when something cracks, a deafening sound with a flash. 

She turns around and Calum’s holding one hand up, something black wrapped around it. “So that’s where my whip went?”

Whip? What the hell is he doing with a whip?

“I’m not going back,” Niq hisses. 

“On the contrary, I’ve got direct orders to take you back. DOA. So this is really your choice.” A swift yanks brings the whip and Niq closer to him. It burns as the handle leaves Niq’s hand. It burns her everytime she touches it, it knows who it belongs to. But she figured if Calum were so powerful to hold it, it would make her powerful too. And it did, minus the burns. Calum brings the hilt to his hand. Her flesh still melting into it. 

Is this his idea of helping, Ruby wonders This can’t be it. If so, he’s got a fucked up idea of reality. 

Niq figures this is her last shot of escape. The next time it won’t just be Calum. It will be him and the hounds. She knows if she faces them, there is no chance of being brought back alive. But she’d rather be brought back dead. “You’ll have to kill me,” she says and attempts to turn. 

Another crack sounds around the salon, a stripe across her body. It burns, not even because of the poison leather, just the sting of her pride. Niq knows she fucked up, that she broke her word. But she really deserved a second shot at life. It wasn’t her time to go. She figured this would give her that second shot. She didn’t think Lucifer would take so strongly to a verbal agreement. 

Calum would rather not kill her. She is, as Ruby called it, just a kid. She’s a got caught up. She was given a deal and when Calum discovered his whip missing, knew she had to be the one that had taken it. Always had sticky fingers. He was willing to let it go, but he wasn’t the one to call the shots. Lucifer demanded she be found and brought back. Scarred. To be made a lesson of. 

Niq touches the blood, making sure it’s real and hers while collapsed onto the floor. Calum winds the whip back up, pulling out the bag from his jacket pocket. “You said you were going to help her?” Ruby snaps. 

Calum walks past her, not even blinking at the punch she throws. It connects, even has some power behind it. “I am helping her,” he returns. 

His tone is too even keeled. “This is not helping her!” She shrieks. She’s helpless as he lifts Niq over his shoulder. “I don’t know who you are. But this is kidnapping. I will call the police.”

“Call ‘em babe. “ He spins around. Eyes blacked over, a grin on his face. Ruby wishes she could wipe it off his plump lips. “And when they ask for a description of the man, tell them. not a man, not a who. But a what.” He tongue flicks out, forked like a snake. When he turns again, she notes a black tail, slender with a spear at the end. It waves as he pushes open the back doors. 

Ruby doesn’t run into Calum after that. At first, she wants to confront him. Demand all the answers, even attempt to kick his ass for lying to her. She hangs around that bar. She drops by the apartment building only to find that he broke the lease and left. Every search on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter yields her nothing in the wake of a Calum Hood. It’s as if he isn’t even real. As if he didn’t exist for those two weeks to her. She knows he did though. He can’t escape without a trace. He has to exist  somewhere, to somebody. Even if he paid everything in cash, there has to be something left. Something that will bite him in the ass. 

Calum watches her. Sometimes from Lucifer’s viewing room. Other times from right outside her windows. He watches the way she combs through the internet, telephone books, leases to see if there is anything left. The number he used was from a burner phone, one anyone can get from a local gas shop or WalMart. He broke his lease, but it’s easy enough to forge legal documents after doing it for so many years. The thing is, he’s no stranger to a lie. There’s something in his gut that feels for her though. 

Sure Niq might’ve been a good kid to them. But she broke a contract with Lucifer and it’s in Calum’s best interest not to question him too much. It’s not that he feels awful for having to use Ruby. But he feels something. Ruby cared. One of the few people in the last few decades that seems to give a shit about anyone. For fuck sake, she couldn't even hit the creep that was harassing her in the club. 

Calum grins, thinking about the punch she landed on his ribs. No, it didn’t hurt but there was a fierceness behind it. In that moment, she probably didn’t care because all she was worried about was the girl. Calum can give Ruby that much, give her props on that she actually cares about people. He wishes he didn’t have to manipulate that. He wishes he could’ve let her still have that much--that giving a shit wouldn’t backfire on her. 

He knows he’s an asshole. Just wishes he wasn’t an asshole to those that give a shit. He preferred being an asshole to those that deserved it. That’s his thing. Ruby didn’t deserve it. But he had a job. “Watching her again?” a voice hisses behind him. 

Calum’s all too familiar with the high octave. “Just making sure she’s not potentially blowing any still usable covers.” It’s an easy enough lie. 

“Oh, she’s nothing special. Even if she opens her mouth, she won’t a second time.”

His fingers curl into a fist. He won’t let that happen. Ruby is not someone that deserves damnation over him. “She won’t be a problem, my liege. I can assure it.”

“Be careful of her, Hood. I need your head on straight. Or it’ll be your head staring back at you. Now wouldn’t that be a sight? If only you’d be able to see it,” Luckifer laughs. 

Calum watches him leave. It felt like a threat, but there is something in the laughter that makes Calum wonder just how serious Lucifer is about that. 

___

Ruby groans when there’s a knock at her door. Having just settled for the next three episodes of her latest Netflix binge, she’s not pleased at the unplanned guest. As she gazes through the peephole her heart skips. That is most definitely not who her eyes are telling her is standing right behind her door. “Shit, no,” she whispers, pressing her forehead into the door. Maybe she can just avoid it. 

“Your car’s parked outside. I can see your feet under the door.”

Hearing his voice reignites the anger in her. She thinks about the lies. The way Niq was limp over his shoulder. She unlatches the hook, swinging the door open. “You asshole. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Attempting to apologize.”

“You can’t apologize. Not for lying, not for using me.”

Calum holds his hands up. “I technically, can apologize. You just may or may not accept it.”

“Fucking asshole. Does it look like I care what you can technically do?”

He looks over her attire, the sweatpants, camisole, the silk scarf around the edges of her braids. It’s a new style after the ponytail. The chunky box braids still look good on her. She’s had them for two weeks now, he’d figured. He’s lost all track of time really in Hell. It’s not important there anyway. “Looks like you’re about to settle in for the evening.” He steps closer, the leather jacket rustles just a little. “Mind if I join?” It’s not truly a question as he slips inside. He knows he really shouldn’t be pressing his luck. But he really does need to apologize to her. 

She stares at his once occupied space and nearly shouts. Instead she closes the door and continues to stare at all the chips in the paint. “You really need to get the fuck out of my house,” she sighs, whipping around. The braids fly up with her action. 

Calum’s already settled into the cushions, boots slipped off, the jacket halfway down his arm. “What are you watching?”

“Get the hell out of my house.” Her voice is calm, though she pushes it out between her teeth. 

“Can I just explain?”

“No, you can get the fuck out of my house!”

“Ruby, look, I-I know I was an asshole. I’m a Hunter. It’s my job. I don’t always like it. But I do what I must.”

“You could be blue, red, or purple, Calum. I don’t give a single fuck what your job is. I don’t care what you are, the truth is you lied to me. You used me and I don’t want to see your face eva’ ‘gain.”

“I apologize. You really didn’t deserve it.” 

Her voice is nothing but a shout, a curdling cry in the air of her apartment, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

He doesn’t bother sliding his shoes on, just grabs them and turns the door on the knob. He pauses, goes to give it one last try, but she shoves his back. The only word leaving her lips is, “Out.” So Calum dares not push it and slips between the small crack of the not fully opened door. He leans against the wall, listening to her shout. He has half a mind to tell her be mindful of her neighbors. When the door across the hall creaks open, he apologizes. 

“Sorry. I fucked up. She’ll be okay in a second.”

The elderly gentleman looks to Ruby’s apartment door. “Must’ve messed up real bad there. She been living across from me for four years and I ain’t ever heard so much as a peep from her, besides the occasional song.”

Calum nods, tossing his head back into the wall. “Yeah, yeah I did.”

“You apologize?”

“I did.”

“Well, sometimes that’s all you can do.” He can see the boots in his hands. “You can bother me for a seat, maybe even a cup of joe if you want to give her some time.”

Calum shakes his head. “Thank you though.”

The old man nods before giving a wobbly smile. “Try again ‘morrow, yeah?”

Calum likes the idea of hope. The idea that he might have a second chance at this. “Yeah. Tomorrow,” he whispers. The shouting has stopped, nothing left but a faint sniffle behind the sounds of talking. She’s probably started whatever show. There’s no fixing this. He tried, that’s all he could do. Not that he really deserves a second shot. But he had hope maybe, just maybe he could get it. 

Calum did always feel hexed. Everything good that happened, he somehow always managed to fuck it up. He at first just blamed it on the universe, that time and fate had conspired against him. But he realized it was just him. He was always the asshole that managed to fuck up nice things. And his powers seemed to have struck again.

___

He’s not even supposed to be over on this side. He’s not even supposed to be in this state. But he takes the risk, just to make sure she’s okay. Calum tries to tell himself he’s only checking in so his cover isn’t blown. But there’s something else. He won’t admit. He refuses to admit the pain in his chest when he notices her leaving a date. It has to be a date. There’s no other reason for a sweater dress and heels. She’s tying the coat close as the door shuts behind her. 

She looks good, finally wearing her natural hair out. It’s cut extremely short on the sides and back. The top straightened, but the ends curled just a little. He realizes then, it’s just a grown out and better styled version of his hair cut. The short looks really suits her face though, he thinks. It helps with her strong jaw line. 

But something is wrong. From the porch of this classy bar, he can see the way she shuffles down the sidewalk. The guy is trying to catch up, shouts out her name. Calum appreciates the darkness and the drunkenness of most of the people here. He sets his drink down, arms resting onto the railing and lifts up. His descent is fast and if it weren’t for his demonic status the sharp landing in a crouch would surely break his ankles. The street is clear of cars, so Calum jogs across, catching up easily. “I thought we were having a good time together.” The closer he gets the more he realizes that is not a man. 

He’s shocked for a second but that doesn’t stop the fact that this person is clearly pushing the boundaries. Ruby doesn’t slow, heels still clicking against the pavement. “Dinner was great, Tre. But I just--”

The last part of her sentence is cut off by the other woman’s retort. “You owe me!”

This stops Ruby in her tracks and Calum leans against the brick building, pulling out his phone. The blue light fades in his vision as he listens in. Just in case things do go south. “I don’t owe you anything. Not a goddamn thing. A date isn’t a ticket for sex. If you wanted a fuck, you should’ve just asked for one. I’m sure someone would’ve been okay with it you piece of shit.”

“I hate bitches like you. Y’all so stuck up. Just give me my money. All I’m looking for is a good fuck.”

There’s rustling; Ruby’s blood is boiling. And she hasn’t missed Calum’s figure still leaned up against the building. She throws the two twenties, enough to cover her half of the bill in Tre’s face. It falls to the ground. “Next time, open with that. Don’t pressure anyone into anything you cunt.”

“All y’all bitches are crazy. You not even worth it no how.” She picks the cash up and walks back towards the restaurant. 

“I don’t need saving, Calum,” Ruby states. 

He looks up. His smile is tight lipped, almost as if he’s too scared to actually look her in the eye. Thankfully Ruby doesn’t sound pissed. Just tired. He clears his throat. He should say something. Anything. Well, maybe not anything. He can’t risk sounding like an asshole again. “The haircut looks nice,” he finally speaks. 

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He gives just a curt nod before turning around. Ruby watches him, the jacket is longer this time. Goes down to his nearly the tops of his thighs. The boots are a little different, but he’s dressed in all black like usual. 

“Traded in the leather jacket, huh?” She calls out to his retreading figure. 

He stops, a small grin lifting his cheeks. “Too cold.” 

She pulls her coat tighter around herself. “Used to warmer weather, I assume.”

He laughs. A genuine from the gut laugh. “Yeah you could call it that.”

She nods over her shoulder. There’s nothing but darkness cut by streetlights and storefronts. “What about a cup of coffee? Or tea? Whatever your heart desires.” 

Maybe he hadn’t jinxed it. Maybe this is a second chance. He never gets them often. “You sure?” 

“I’m sure.” They walk in silence to an ice cream shop nearby. He gets nothing but does pay for hers. “Thanks. For being there.” 

“Looks like you didn’t need me.” 

She sets the spoon down. Takes note of the avoiding gaze and soft voice. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you feel remorse.” 

This finally gets his gaze directed on her. “I’m an asshole. Not a psychopath.” 

“Well,” she teases, voice tittering higher up. 

“Okay, okay,” he huffs. “Maybe I deserve that. I also realize it’s creepy as fuck to be keeping tabs like this.” 

“Creepy indeed.” 

“Sorry. There’s no sane excuse.” 

“There isn’t. But I guess if you’re lingering around this long, it might be for a reason.”

He twirls his rings around his fingers. It sounds insane when he goes to utter it over his lips. “Was really hoping you’d accept my apology.”

“You know me. Lover, not a fighter.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Got a mean left swing.”

“I deserve that, I guess.” 

Calum wonders, looking at her downturn gaze if this is over, if he’s pushed his luck. He might have. But he’s glad that they are able to clear the air. They talk until closing and the air has dropped again in temperature. He walks her to her car, occasionally bumping her elbow. She huffs, before bumping his in return. At her car, she leans into the driver side door. “Where you headed?”

“Back.” Just one word. But there’s something in her gut that knows where back is. Back is below. Back is Hell. But she can’t bring herself to utter the words. “You know normal people run away. Most people find out someone’s not what they thought they were and they leave well alone.” There he goes again, sticking his foot in his mouth. 

“Not most people, I guess. In this reality, monsters are all around us. They don’t need whips or horned tails. They speak with forked tongues and are just as human as me.”

It’s an honest and sometimes hard take to have, to know the veil between human and supernatural isn’t as thick as one thinks. “Is this like, over? Did I cross the creep line?” Calum’s never been this honest, this vulnerable. 

“Cross the creep line, yes. But over, no. I know you mean well. Just next time you’re around, just send a quick message, snail mail or something. Don’t jump from the second story.” 

Calum grins, it’s small. Nothing big. Just a quick upturn of his lips. “Thanks.”

Ruby looks out into the still night. She hasn’t reached for her car door so Calum doesn’t move from his spot. “Tiff doesn’t remember what happened at the shop. No one does. Why’s that?”

“Clean up,” Calum explains. “Crew told me that one person fled the scene before they could get there.”

“Guess you caught me.  So why haven’t they track me down? Do the whole Men In Black erase thing?”

“I lied.” He says it so easily. Not even hardly a blink or the gaping second before the words gather. Just a simple fact. 

“So you lied about me?”

“I fudged the numbers. Made an eight look more like a nine. It happens. My handwriting is shit.”

“Was I that special?” Her throat thumps. She can feel the pulsing in her neck. Her mouth dries a little. Would Calum lie to her right now?

“You are.”

“Aren’t you worried? Shouldn’t you be concerned about getting into trouble?”

Calum shrugs. “Boss man only knows that you saw me at the club. When clean up said that they were missing one, I went back to the shop, staked it out. Only one missing was you. Went back, said that I had found the missing one and covered our asses. Never mentioned you were in the shop.”

“Do you normally keep tabs on the women you take home?”

Calum quirks an eyebrow. “This a conversation best had over whiskey, don’t you think? I’d offer more ice cream but I think every shop in town is closed.” 

Ruby runs her fingers over her key fob. She finds the button, eyes never faltering from Calum’s. The headlights blinked, the doors unlocking. She throws her head back, a gesture for him to hop in. “Luckily we’re on my side of town. Fifteen minutes out from my place, if you care to bum a ride.”

Calum half jogs, noticing the shiver that runs over Ruby. The night has gotten colder since they got ice cream. He’d rather her not freeze. The heat is blasting before she pulls out of the parking spot.

 “I should probably explain what I do,” Calum starts, knee and leg bouncing a little in the passenger seat. How does he explain with words what he does? He prays it doesn’t scare her off. 

“I don’t care,” Ruby says. “Honestly, I don’t.” That feels like too much knowing, too much weight if he dulvges it all to her. Some things are better left unknown she figures. 

Calum nods. Not what he expected but he likes that she just accepts things for what they are. “Well, I don’t keep tabs. To answer your question. I just noticed you looking me up. So I had to tell Boss that it was nothing. And eventually, you stopped. But I really did want to apologize. You give a shit about people. You don’t run across that a lot. I did use you. And I wish I hadn’t. I wish I didn’t take advantage of that. I could I wish I didn’t have to take advantage of it and blame my job. But the truth is, I’m so used to people doing whatever to get over that I just thought you were like that. And you’re not.”

Ruby is silent. At least he recognized the wrong doing. At least he’s not a complete soulless asshole like many others out there. “What do you say if we start again?” Her question comes after a minute or two of silence. 

“I’d like that.”

Inside Ruby’s apartment, she drops her coat and purse onto the couch. Calum watches her immediately head over to her dining room table. It’s a high table, pushed up against the wall next to a window. She grabs one of the barstools and moves it a foot or so away from the table. Calum grabs two and pulls them away. She grabs the corner of the table and looks over to Calum. 

He grabs the other corner and lifts. Ruby realizes she’s not even helping as he pulls it out from the wall withouth having to drag it an inch. Pulled away from the wall, she moves two stools behind it into the gap. Her next stop is to the kitchen, grabbing whiskey glasses. “I like the mason jars better,” Calum says from behind her. 

“Mason jars it is then” 

“Don’t have whiskey. Will Hennessey do?”

“I’ll have to rectify that error later.”

Ruby pours two glasses and gives one to Calum. It clinks against the metal of his rings when he grasps it. He’s glad he didn’t take the jacket off or the beanie.  She grabs a third glass and pours straight cranberry juice. She can forgo alcohol for the night.  “All actors ready?” he teases, lips sealing around the screw top rim. The dark liquor is warm as it goes down. 

“Ruby and Calum meeting at the bar, scene 1, take 2,” Ruby laughs. 

Calum settles into one of the barstools behind her table, watching her in the kitchen. “We’re missing music,” he muses.

“My neighbors would kill me if I played club music this late. They’re all old. Let them rest.” 

Calum decides he likes Ruby’s smile. Even the shy quiet ones. “Since you asked so nicely.” He looks away, taking another sip and hears her giggling. “This is serious,” he reprimands, still staring out into her living room. 

The dark gray couch looks nice with bright yellow throw pillows. Her coffee able is black metal, a simple chic design. The entertainment stand is metal too. Her rug is black with dark gray trim. The art on her walls are of plants, a soft dark green but not distracting. He doesn’t miss the record player sitting on her bookshelf. 

He’s tempted to spin a record. But when the glass lands on the table in front of him, he forgets about it. “Come here often?” Ruby asks, a tuft of laughter escaping her. 

He grins behind the first glass before putting down onto the wooden table. It’s a pretty dark gray stain over the wood. She’s careful to slip a coaster under the glasses too, Calum notices. “First time around here actually.”

As Ruby climbs into the chair next to him, she laughs even more. “Well, let me show you a good time then. Name’s Ruby.”

“Calum,” he gets out over his fit of giggles. Ruby falls into his shoulder, the wool a little stratchy against her face. Her laughter spills from her lips too. “Tell me would you have really used that line with someone?”

“Hell no. It’s cheesy as hell.”

“Then why did you use it just now?”

She shrugs. “I figured why not. We were starting over. What harm would it cause to try it out?”

“A lot. Especially if this weren’t our first meeting.”

“Good thing it’s not.” 

Soon Calum’s slipping out of coat, nursing one glass. He could have both. They’re not strong to him and he does feel bad since she poured both. “You don’t have to have both. I just--it fit the scene.”

He nods, slouching a little into the seat, arm thrown around the back of her chair. Ruby reclines back, head falling onto his shoulder again. He gently brushes over her shoulders. “Do you sleep?” The question falls before the yawn from Ruby’s lips. 

“Technically, no I don’t need it. I do rest, I guess. But I don’t sleep like you’d think.”

“So I guess I don’t need to offer my couch to you then, huh?”

“I should probably get back.”

“You know where to find me though,” Ruby counters. 

“I do. And I’ll send snail mail the next time I’m around.”

Calum keeps to his word and slips a letter under her door when she’s at work. So by night time, if she has the energy, she can call. The number is different at the bottom of each letter. But Calum’s always on the other end. 

They meet sometimes for ice cream if it has to be a quick stop. Other times they might meet at her place, sipping a combination of alcohol and watching the latest episode of her shows. Those nights Calum stays, never terribly late. Just long enough into the morning that she knows he’s leaving. He makes sure to give warning of his departure. 

“You really have completed the whole aesthetic,” Calum comments, refilling his glass. He won’t admit that he’s partial to the mason jars as cups. Instead he pokes fun at it. 

“You leave my interior decoration alone. Lest we not forget the state your place was in,” Ruby shouts from the couch. 

“It doesn’t count,” Calum counters. “It was temp. This is your home.”

“Fuck off. And hurry, I let ads play for you to you mess around. You’ve got thirty seconds left and I won’t pause.”

“Please leave my chocolate pretzels alone,” he huffs as he watches her grab a handful from his bowl. 

“Whatcha gon’ do about it sweetheart?” 

When weeks roll into months, and months roll into a year, it feels unreal. That somewhere in all this of the time he’s been blessed with a friend. He stays a little longer behind. His captures are no less perfect. But Lucifer is not necessarily pleased that he does take longer. But Calum’s doing his best to keep him at bay. He suspects it won’t be much longer before some sort of punishment will be dished out. There always is. 

At her apartment door, he knocks. He thinks he should’ve brought a carnation to replace the last one he bought. Though he figures, she’ll be asleep in a couple hours and he can sneak out and find one. Before the door opens, he notes the change in the air--it feels warmer.

Ruby opens the door with shaky hands. Before Calum can ask what’s happening, someone else walks up behind him. Lucifer. Immediately, he can feel the shift happening, his blackened eyes taking over. “My liege,” he answers with a curt nod. 

“Oh, if it’s not my favorite Hunter. Come in, come in,” he urges. Calum steps inside. If his heart still pumped the same, it would be racing in his chest. He steps in front of Ruby, watching as Lucifer strolls about, tail whipping about. That is not a good sign. “I love the decor. Very chic. The pops are color are divine, don’t you think?” 

“It’s a wonderfully decorated home,” Calum returns. 

With a dazzling smile behind pink lips, Lucifer points to Ruby. “She’s got a great eye. I’d hate for something to happen.”

Calum takes a step back, pushing her further into the door. A silent plea for her to run if she can take it. Ruby clings to his jacket. She doesn’t have to be told something is going to happen. She can feel it in her bones when his gaze lands on her again. “Is there an issue, sir?”

“An issue? Hm, yes. My issue is that my best Hunter is out here falling for a human.”

“It’s not like that. We are just--” Does he say it? Does it dare let the word cross his lips. “Friends, sir. Just friends.”

She exhales. They’ve never really labeled whatever this was. But she likes hearing him say it. Friends is nice. Lucifer hums again. “What a nice thing to say? But I don’t like is that your friend is messing with your work.”

“Sir, I am perfectly capable--” The sentence is not finished when Lucifer’s tail wraps around his throat. 

“I don’t give a shit. I know you’re capable. Why the hell else would you have such an esteemed title? But we don’t get cozy with humans. There are rules for a reason. Understood?”

A choked, “Yes,” falls from Calum’s lips before the hold is released. He wants to reliate, lash out. But that’s frowned upon. Calum bites his tongue. 

“Move for me.” 

Calum doesn’t like that tone. That gleam in his eyes. Ruby’s the first person to listen to him, to give a shit about someone other than herself and even if Calum’s an asshole, she gave him a second shot. What she does not need is whatever Lucifer has planned up his sleeve. “My liege. With all due respect, she’s just human. She’s not worth it.” He winces a little as the words leave his lips. He doesn’t mean it like that. Doesn’t mean that she doesn’t hold value to him. But she is not worth Lucifer getting bent out of shape over. 

“Oh, but she’s your friend. She is worth it. Now you will move, or I will move you.”

“Sir, please. I’ll leave with you right now, just please. Leave her out of this.”

“Don’t be silly, Calum. There’s no way to leave her out of it. She knows too much.”

He gets it now. This isn’t about Ruby. It never was. It was solely about him. She never had to open her mouth. She never had to slip up, say the wrong thing. All she had to do was get close. She had to witness once or twice his true form and it was over for him. There was a warning that had not been heeded.

 There’s no way to trace a ghost. The fortunate thing for Lucifer here. It’ll be like Calum never existed. Though he hasn’t for a while now. This was just a shell. Still powerful but effectively empty. Calum’s flesh is temporary and what’s beneath cannot survive on the surface. 

Calum takes a small step forward. Ruby holds onto his wrist. “I won’t tell a soul. I haven’t told anyone,” she pleads. 

Calum’s chest caves. He hates the way it cracks. This isn’t about her. He pleads with Lucifer, but there’s no sympathy. He steps forward again, squeezing her hand one last time before their connection falls. “Calum, what-- No, please, I haven’t done anything.”

He speaks to her without looking away from Lucifer. “No, you haven’t. I have.”

It finally clicks. “Calum, no. He can’t. That’s not fair!”

When she finally steps forward, a black tail stops her. Calum. He can’t risk her getting in the way, getting hurt. The tip hurts, even though there’s no pressure behind it. It’s sharp just resting against her skin. Lucifer makes a circling motion with his finger and Calum closes his eyes as he spins. His tail drops and Ruby is frozen as he strips his leather jacket, pulling the beanie from his dark curls. He just shaved the sides down, she notices, the top still long. He peels his shirt over his head, dropped into a heap next to him. 

Everything in her body is telling her to look away. But she can’t. His normal brown colored eyes are blacked out. Wings appear from his back, smoke billowing all around them. She wonders for a fleeting moment if the smoke alarm will sound. They are beautiful, black, with tufts of smoke blowing from the feather tip. He furls them, reaching into the pile of his clothes and brings out his whip. He drops to his knees and lifts the sacred leather whip up. It will soon no longer be his. 

Ruby sinks against the wall, her eyes are swimming. “This can’t be happening,” she whispers. “You can’t do this!”

“Sweetheart, I can. And I will,” Lucifer grins, cracking the whip. A red welt appears across Calum’s chest. The only sign of pain is the muscle the jumps in his jaw. She pushes herself up to her knees. If she could plead to any god willing to listen, she would. But there’s no god here. The whip sounds again, an X appears in angry red across his chest. 

Ruby crawls to him. Part of her brain remembers the last time she did this and she cracks a watery smile. Calum sees it, knows what she’s thinking. “Don’t you dare,” he threatens, clearing his throat. 

“What? Telling me now is an inappropriate time to ask if someone on their hands and knees gets you off?”

Calum shakes his head with a quirk of his thick brow. “Very inappropriate time.”

Lucifer watches the exchange with a smile. “Well at least you two had some sort of history.”

No one pays him any mind. Calum focuses on her, the way her hair is still cut short on the sides and back. The curls on top are tighter now. She raises to a kneel on her knees in front of him, hands trembling as the cup his jaw. “You’re a good friend, you know? An asshole, but still a good guy.”

Another crack of the whip sounds in the room. The blow across the bone where wing meets Calum’s vertebrae. He tries not to groan, tries to swallow down the pain. But another blow comes and he buries his face into her shoulder. “I tried,” he whispers. “I’m hexed though. Jinxed, something.” Lucifer brings the whip down again, the bone is snapping, blood trickling down his back. 

“No, you’re not hexed,” she whispers. “You’re a good guy.”

The final crack of the whip brings the last of the wing away from his spine. He lets out a grunt into her skin, arms winding around her dark flesh. The room is spinning for Calum. This is way worse he thinks. Having her here to witness. He wants to push her away, tell her to get out of here before it happens. But a larger part wants her in his arms. He wants someone to lean into. 

“You-you shouldn’t be here for this,” he breathes. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the way she smells like pressed hair and a hint of apple. Maybe from her body wash. 

“No, no, I’ve never left a man behind. I wasn’t raised that way. Dad’s Ex-SWAT remember.”

Lucifer brings another blow against the open wound. Calum lets himself cry out that time. She holds his head, forearms blocking it from the blows. She knows she could get hurt. It doesn’t matter. All she’s focused on is how Calum’s grip is loosening around her waist. “Tell me,” he pants. “Why Ruby?”

“Why the name?”

“Not your real one.”

Snot drops onto her lips. “No, it’s not. To make a long story short, my mom was abusive and manipulative. I hated the way she screamed my name. She always said it so nasty, like it was poison. So I had people call me Ruby. After my dad’s birthstone.”

It may not be solace. It may not bring her peace. “We sent her below,” Calum wheezes after another blow. 

“Below? Like Below Hell?”

He gives a small nod. It’s hard against the tight squeeze of her forearms. Ruby kisses the top of his head. The whip falls to the floor before Lucifer hovers over Calum’s tail. He lets his tip hover, a warning for Calum of what’s to come. “We have our own sense of morals,” Lucifer interjects. “We’re not all bad.”

“Fuck off,” Calum spits. He turns his head, his lips brushing against the skin of her neck. “We are. We are bad.”

“No,” Ruby protests. “You’re not. You are not all bad, Calum.”

Lucifer drops his tail, point severing Calum’s. “Speak out of turn. This will be your final chance.”

Calum pushes himself up, it’s a slow process. But he does. “I had a sister. When you see her, on the other side, tell her I loved her. That I remembered everything she taught me.”

Ruby holds his face, cheeks squishing in the strong hold. “I will.”

“It’s gonna take you a few decades to meet her. But you’ll know her when you see her. Now, don’t watch this part.”

“Calum I can’t leave you.”

“You won’t be. Just close your eyes, face the wall. You’ll be right there. Just don’t watch.” He knows the gore, the shock that overtakes someone when the final blow is delivered. He can spare her that. He can do one last good thing. “Ruby, I’m not asking.” His breath is labored. “Don’t. Watch.”

Her eyes dark around his face, trying to remember the moles on his cheek, the way his nose sat, how plump his lips are. She kisses him, a short peck. Resting her forehead to his, she lets her tears fall. “I love you. I never said that. Didn’t know how you’d react.”

He takes his hand, curling it around hers, and motions for her to turn. “I love you.” 

It’s a platonic love. A love that made Calum feel human again for just a little over a year and a half. He will go, remembering the way she laughed, and how to never drank coffee with no less than three sugars. He will go remembering that someone saw something more in him. Calum’s wasn’t looking for companionship. But he found something better. 

She doesn’t turn fulling away, more like three quarters, eyes closed. But she reaches out her hand. He takes it. They give each other a squeeze. He won’t make a sound for her. It’s hard. His breathing already ragged. But he inhales once. 

Ruby’s holding Calum’s hand one moment, squeezing with all her might. She can feel him squeezing back and then it feels like hours. She’s waiting for it go limp, praying to every god that something changes this outcome. The pressure disappears and then so does his warmth. Nothing just dust settling into her palm. A sob pierces her chest, scratches over her lips and when she turns, there’s nothing but his shirt and jacket left. Not even dust is left but the little that she clutches in her hands. 

Ruby cries, clutching his t-shirt in the middle of her living room. If she could go back, and tell herself not to go into that bar again, looking for Calum, she would. She would in a heartbeat.

[almostxinnocent]

“Society wants to believe it can identify evil people, or bad or harmful people, but it's not practical. There are no stereotypes.” ― Ted Bundy Anyone who knows me also knows that I am a huge fan of true crime.  Even knowing that, it has taken me a long time to actually write about this, or maybe just fear at re-living it over again has held me back.  I figure if I don’t do it now I never will. It would be easier to simply do this as just another story.  So here we go.  (Part One)When I was fourteen other girls were reading Teen Beat and I was reading True Crime novels about Ken Bernardo, Jeffrey Dahmer and other serial killers no young girl should know about.  So when I stumbled across the address to actually write one of them it was no surprise that I jumped on the chance.  

For the sake of privacy and my sanity we will call him Mr. E.  A lot of people don’t even know about it but there is a place called J-pay where you can write to inmates and see if they respond.  I wanted to ensure a response so I included a couple of pictures of myself.  I was fifteen and throwing modesty aside, I thought I was pretty attractive. It had been a few weeks since I had sent my first message and I rushed home each day to see if there was a response. It had become a routine for me.  I quickly logged into the website and saw that I actually had a response.  I had only written one person and immediately I felt like a ten year old on Christmas morning.  I clicked to open it and greedily read what was inside.

“I have to say for a young girl you are not only intelligent, but beautiful as well.  I would be more than happy to answer your questions but if I am going to be nice to you, you need to be nice to me too.  I have a couple questions of my own.”

I read down further, scrunched my face up at some of the more personal questions like “How often do you bath” or “What does your hair smell like before a good wash” .  I knew he was highly intelligent, and I was sure he would smell bullshit from a mile away.  I can’t say I wasn’t nervous but it was more nervous excitement.  I was going to write my reply, but hesitation got the best of me.  I turned the computer off and went to drown myself in another book.  When I finally did sleep I was thrown into some pretty intense nightmares.  I woke up tired from the lack of good sleep I had gotten and rolled over in bed.  It wasn’t unusual to remember my dreams, but this time I would rather not have.  All night I had dreams of being visited by Mr. E.  They seemed so real that I actually decided I would not write back at all.

After a couple nights of not having any nightmares and scolding myself for being a sissy, I gathered enough courage to write back.  

“Mr. E,I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to see your response, even if you do ask some pretty weird questions.  To show you that I will be an honest pen-pal I will answer them but first I want to ask a couple of my own.  Do you ever feel sorry for what you did to the family of your victims?  I already know how you feel about the girls that you killed.  There are so many books written about you! What is it like not being able to be free anymore?  What is your day to day like there?  Do you get a lot of fan mail?  Do you think I am a fan??”

I went down his list and answered all his questions, providing as little detail as possible.  It did give me the creeps to think about a real life serial killer who tortured girls to death so close to my age having knowledge of my personal bathing habits and odors.   Sometimes knowing someone is locked up isn’t enough, it’s wondering what they do with their time that can be unsettling.  We had been writing for about four months before things started to get even more uncomfortable.  Mr. E had always given me the answers that I wanted, although I tended to not ask any graphic details about his murders. Then suddenly he started to give me details on his own, some of them that I had never actually read in any of his books.  I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t more jumpy than usual or that the contents of his letters were not giving me nightmares.  The truth was I had been plagued by them, but I just could not stop responding.  

I knew if my mother ever found out what I was doing she would probably take away my computer and everything else that provided contact with anyone in the world, and I think that was putting me on edge as well.I wanted to believe that Mr. E trusted me, but I knew his mail was being read.  Since the details were just descriptions of his killing rituals and habits I guess it didn’t matter.  It wasn’t like he was revealing where more bodies were or anything.  His personal questions started to became more intrusive too.  The minute I started to feel too uncomfortable, or there was a lapse of response, I would get a kinder letter of assurance which motivated me to keep writing.  I was playing a game of cat and mouse but was starting to feel I was more the mouse than cat.

Finally, in one of our conversations he asked for my address.  He told me that he had a few drawings and poetry he wanted me to have.  In this message he especially made it a point to compliment me and thank me for keeping him company.  He told me about how most of the writing he received was from distasteful and rude women (I assumed grown-ups) that he would never consider responding to.   I have to admit I was flattered and less uncomfortable but looking back I see I was being manipulated.  I gave him my address.  I figured being locked up forever would prevent anything bad from happening to me.  I was safe, so why not? It was only a few days later that a small package arrived, and I ran upstairs before my mother could see what I had.  I opened it carefully, and my heart was pounding so loud it seemed like it was coming from across the room.  I almost lost my breath to be completely honest.  Here I was, a teenager getting mail from a notorious serial killer!  Who would believe it!  

Inside the package contained two poems, with what looked like dried blood smeared across them.  A lock of hair tied with what looked like some kind of frayed rope and three drawings.  One of the poems went as follows; “Her lips looked like two berries. I knew I had to touch but my touch was so heavy off her face the lips I plucked I kissed the bloody space where they once used to be a beautiful and gaping hole but then she tried to flee I wrapped her up in ribbons I tied them like a bow Her mouth kept making noises So the hole I had to sew” I am sure you get the picture.  In my young mind I wasn’t sure what to think, but I guess I thought it was to be expected.  I wondered if there were any rules about what you could send someone so young, but then again I had never mentioned my age.  I had only sent photos since you had to be eighteen to use the website.  We had made an agreement that when his arrived, I would send my own.  That night my nightmares were so intense that I woke sweating and feeling trapped.  The next morning I cut off a lock of my own hair, pricked my finger and smeared some blood across it.  I can’t explain how or why but Mr. E had some kind of hold on me. At this point you might be wondering what kind of laws they had back then about what you could or could not send into prison.  I didn’t realize that we lived in a world with such liberties or restrictions.   I was in a state of being embarrassed about my nightmares and thinking I was some hot shot getting details nobody else had gotten.  Two more weeks went by and I did not hear from my pen-pal.  I was confused and constantly checking my inbox.  I wondered if what I sent had gotten him into some kind of trouble, but was more worried my mom might find out if someone from the prison contacted us.   Then a week or so later, another box appeared and I once again ran upstairs to open it.  I was lucky that the mail was there when I came home from school.  I did not want to have to deal with a confrontation with my mom about strange boxes at our front door. I opened the box and was immediately confused.  What I saw put goosebumps all over my body, not just my arms.  It was almost painful.  There was only a letter, and the box was too big for just a letter.  That was strange enough.  The letter was short itself was short.   “I hope you are as excited as I am.  It won’t be long now.” The more I thought about it, the less scared I was.  I was actually angry.  I felt like I had been betrayed. Then I realized how ridiculous that was.  Why would I expect honesty from a serial killer?  I bet this was his new way of getting his kicks now that he was locked up.  I went to my computer and was ready to write a bunch of insults but when I got to the web page it would not load.   That happened a lot, so I decided to just cut my losses and move on.  I was embarrassed that I had been such an easy target, so even weeks later I never told my friends and obviously not my mother.One night I was out with my best friend and we went to our favorite spot, the playground.  Yeah, I know.  Juvenile, but it was the best place at night because it was private and nobody bothered you.  After the usual talk about boys at school, and general gossip we decided it was time to head home.  My mother was almost always gone on the weekends, and it happened to be the weekend my little brother and sister weren’t at home with me either.  I tried to convince Lilly to spend the night but she said her dad would freak out since she basically spent every weekend at my house anyways. This meant flicking through television channels until I got frustrated enough to read a book and then go to sleep.My walk back home was short but it seemed like the perfect time for my mind to start thinking about Mr. E.  It bothered me that I was so foolish and even though I knew I had nothing to be scared of I still felt a little jumpy when I was turning the corner onto my street.  I finally got home and shut and locked the door and let out a deep sigh.  It felt like I had been holding my breath.  I had to laugh at myself as I walked upstairs to start a boring routine of spending a Saturday night alone. My little yorkie Koby was running around my legs wagging his stub tail excitedly.  I picked him up and opened my bedroom door.   “Hello pal, I told you it wouldn’t be much longer.”   I felt dizzy and nauseous at the same time but I could not move. It felt like the entire room tilted.  I stood there trying to process what was happening.  He made no attempt to move from the bed.  He was holding one of my stuffed animals in his hands.  I kept telling myself this wasn’t real, it was another dream.  This wasn’t him.  This was not happening.  This wasn’t him.  The voice inside my head became more frantic and I put my hands on both my ears.  I felt like I was losing my mind because there could not possibly be a man sitting on my bed, holding my stuffed animal. “Don’t be upset, I know I’m not who you are looking for but I promise I can give you much more than some man stuck in a cell could anyway.  We have so much to talk about.  I knew you were the one when you sent that hair back to me.  I said to myself, here is a girl who isn’t afraid to do things out of the ordinary.”   His voice was vibrating though me.  I knew my only way to get out of this would be to either do what he said, or make him think I would. At the same time that thought was going through my head I also realized there was no way I was going to talk my way out of this. This wasn’t Mr. E, and this wasn’t a nightmare.  I could tell this man was very tall from the height of him simply sitting there.  His black hair was straight.  He looked ordinary.  He didn’t look like a monster at all. “How?....”  I barely said the words as if speaking too loud might cause him to do something. “Well, I could insult your intelligence for not making sure the website you were using was actually the real website, but most of you young ones usually don’t bother.  Let’s just say you were never writing to who you thought you were and start fresh.”  All the terrible details from his letter came back to me.  The way he stalked the girls, kidnapped them and then held for days while they were tortured.  Like dolls, he played with them until they were no longer breathing. 

“I thought I could trust you.”  I whispered, still frozen in my place.  I could attempt to run but he would just catch me on the stairs as I tried to go down.  There wasn’t any feasible way to get away.

“Oh you can trust me.  I never lied to you did I?  Now come over here and sit on my lap and I will tell you all the fun things we will do together.  I know you like the park, did you want to go back and swing on the swings again?  You looked so fresh with your skirt flying up your legs.”

I shook my head and back into my doorway which was at the exact moment that he lunged at me. The fact that he had been watching me made me feel violated enough.  I didn’t even bother to take time to think about how long he had been watching me but now assumed it was from the moment I sent him my actual address.

I let out a startled yelp as we both landed on the ground. He was quick and before I knew it he had my arms over my head was straddling me.  He leaned down for a kiss but I kept twisting my head back and forth with tears streaming down my face.  “Please don’t let him kiss me, please.” I begged God inside my mind to make it go away.  

The next thing I knew he slapped me so hard across my face that I was seeing everything in two’s with blurred lines.  I was no longer frantically twisting, but slowly going back and forth, still reeling from the hand that had rocked me.  I was so dazed I could barely feel his mouth drooling on mine until he sharply bit down on my lip.  It was so hard I came out of my daze screaming as loudly as I could before he clamped his hand over my lips and shook his head.

“There will be plenty of time for that.” 

[kimberly-spirits13]

Summer Vacation (Pt. 1)

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Synopsis: When you were young, your mother was killed by some strange force, it was seen as an accident by the police, but your grandmother and yourself thought otherwise. You aren’t close with your father and are often sent home from Gotham back to your grandmother. One day, you get a call, your grandmother thinks she has the answers to your mother’s death

Notes: Okay so I have really weird dreams. Like, this is something you might wanna know about me. Often times, depending on the dream, I might be able to narrow down a plot or something and turn it into a story. The Summer Solstice Museum was a dream so yeah. Needless to say, I have an unhealthily vivid imagination. Also, Ik I make a lot of series, but it’s almost summer time for me so I have time lol. OH, important, if you don’t call your grandmother Mimi, I’m sorry cause it’s what I refer to a grandmother figure in this as since it was in my dream and fit the character well. I basically had this dream and it was a character that I made a while ago but I figured I’d use it here, the reader in place of the character.

Warnings: Mentions of parental death, cursing, crappy dad (no physical or mental abuse he’s just absent and garbage)

Word Count: 1921

            You were sitting in school at Gotham Academy the day you got called into the office. It was during History, a subject that you actually kind of liked in school. Damian, your best friend, shot you a look of questioning as you walked out shrugging your shoulders since you had no idea what this was about. It was probably another plan to ship you off to your grandmother’s house this summer. That was something that your father was very likely to do. It sucked not being able to see Damian during this time, but in the words of your father, “It is necessary.”. You walked out of the door with your hall pass and down a flight of stairs before turning left and then stepping into the front office. No one was there but the front desk lady and your father who had his similar look of indifference upon his face.

           “Father, why are you here?” You asked as he handed you his phone.

           “Your grandmother wanted me to get you to call her. She said that it could not wait until 3:15.” You looked at the clock seeing that it was now 2:55p.m. and school would be out soon.          

           You took the phone and dialed your grandmother who picked up instantly.

           “Mimi, is something wrong?” You asked sitting down in one of the leather chairs that were placed in the lobby.

           “Hello Y/N!” Your very peppy grandmother cheered, “How are you sunflower?”

           “I’m doing great, school’s about to be out for the week, is everything alright at the farm?” You questioned as you heard the Queen playing in the background. It sounded like she was painting again.

           “Oh, everything is... well let’s just say that I’ve found something on your mother, honey.” She paused for a moment thinking as what to say next and the music stopped.

           “M-mom?” You asked, your face paling and voice hushing, “What is it?”

           “There are mysterious things happening around right now. A strange older house has been spontaneously built up in an abandoned old farm land and my book of spells led me straight to it.” Your grandmother explained, “I know for certain that this has to do with whatever killed her Y/N/N. Finals are next week for you right?” She asked

           “Yes, then we have summer.” You answered.

           “Good, why don’t you come over and we can solve this entire thing?” Mimi asked giving you a second to think about it.

           “Sure. Sure, I’ll see you then.” You smiled some remembering what the farm was like, “Will you just call me if anything changes?”

           “Of -course sunflower!” She said, a smile in her voice, “Alright Y/N/N, I love you and will see you next week.”

           “I love you too Mimi.” You hung up and went back to class, your father stating that he would wait for you until the bell rang.

           Quickly, you made your way back into your class. It was weird walking back in. You saw Damian giving you a different look, rather than questioning, it was some -what of worry. You assumed that he saw the look on your face as you sat down.

           “Later.” You mouthed.

           The bell rang 10 minutes later and you and Damian headed out of the classroom, trying to beat the rest of the class out before the waves of students hit.

           “What was that about Y/N?” He asked.

           “My grandmother wants me to come to her farm this summer again. Uh- family matters.” He nodded thinking that this was over your father like it tended to always be over.

           “You know you could always come live with me at the manor. Father is ... less than present sometimes like your father, but you would have Brown, Cain, Gordon, and myself as well.” Damian’s eyes lit up when he thought about you coming to live with him at the manor. It was something that he had thought about many times before.

           “That would be nice Dames, but I just don’t want to go through all of that until I have to.” You answered thinking of the legal logistics.

           “If you’re concerned about legality, we could just kidnap you Y/N.” He said opening up his locker.

           “Oh yeah because that’s much better.” You rolled your eyes when he chuckled.

           You grabbed what homework you didn’t finish during lunch or your break hour and walked out of the school with Damian for afterschool carpool (pick up). He walked you to your father’s car and gave a darker look upon seeing him. Damian didn’t like that he just left you alone in the massive apartment of yours for so long on “business” and basically acted like you didn’t exist. How could someone do that? You were one of the most amazing and complex people that he had ever met and it was inconceivable that someone would just toss you to the side in such a manner.

           “Bye Dames.” You smiled some as he bid you farewell and got into his car when your father drove off.

           “So, what was that call about?” Your father asked in a monotone voice.

           “Mimi wants me to come to the farm this summer with her.” You saw his face light up some at the mention of this, “I guess you won’t have to worry about me getting in the way of your business trips now even though I could have stayed by myself being 16 and all.”

           Your father didn’t reply and in his place was one of your own sighs as you two drove to the apartment complex that housed your penthouse. Your father owned a penthouse in the city after gaining a high position in his company for international business. While he did have business trips, you knew that in reality, all of the free times on those were spent with various women. You figured this out after tracking his phone on an app to the Red- Light District in Amsterdam during one of his “adventures”. This was proving to be a long next few days, and it was only just starting.

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

           It was Tuesday night, the second night of exams. Damian could tell that something was more than wrong as you sat on his bed with him, papers out studying for your literature and history exams that were happening in the morning.

           “Y/N are you alright?” He asked finally seeing your gaze drift to the top of the paper, your eyes setting in like you were starting to zone out in deep thought.

           “Y/N.” He said once more snapping you out of your trance.

           “Mhmm?” You hummed flipping the paper to a new one.

           “What’s the matter with you today?” He asked, “These past few days in fact.”

           “Nothing is wrong Damian.” You replied, “I’m just stressed for exams, that’s all.” You looked up, shooting him a fake smile.

           “That was one of the fakest smiles I have ever seen in my life L/N.” He scoffed as if you took him for a fool, “Seriously, what’s wrong?” He stopped, his gaze darkening once more, “Your father didn’t-“

           You cut him off, “No, Dames, nothing is wrong with my father more than it usually is.” You stopped thinking some, “M-my” It took looking around and lowering your voice to a whisper for you to continue as if something or someone was listening that shouldn’t be, “Mimi saw something on my mom, she thinks that she found something on her.”

           “Y/N/N...” He looked at you in sympathy and understanding, using the nickname that he had given you used only in special circumstances.

           “It’s fine. I’ve been expecting something like this.” You reasoned more with yourself than him, “I-I love the farm, it’s quiet, peaceful, beautiful, Mimi is there...” You started to tear up some and he grabbed you, wrapping you in his arms, “I don’t know what’s going to happen and it’s just going to be my Mimi and I on a farm in the middle of a new hotspot for this thing that killed my mom and I won’t have anyone. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

           “Y/N/N, you’re going to be okay.” He said softly before pausing, “If you’ll allow it, I can come with you.”

           “D-Dami, you can’t. You have Robin and a life here.” You sniffled burying your face into his neck.

           You did admit there was a blush creeping onto your face. It was strange being like this, yet it felt so right. You guys weren’t dating, not at all, but you guys were best friends and hardly left each other’s side. You wanted it to be more but didn’t want to mess anything up after seeing your father the way he was when your mother died. You didn’t think he would do that if something happened to you, but you also didn’t think that way of your father but here you were.

           “It doesn’t matter. You need someone with you, and I intend to be that person Y/N.” He remarked running his fingers through your hair, his face turning bright red.

           “I-I’d have to ask Mimi.” You pulled back and he let go of you, “You really don-“

           “I will.” He gave you a determined look as you calmed some and nodded before smiling for real this time once more.

           “So, wanna talk Napoleon?” He laughed at your remark flipping through his notes before nodding.

           “Whatever you say L/N.”

           After your study session, Damian went to tell his father that he would be leaving for the summer. He knew that Bruce wouldn’t be happy about this but also that he couldn’t say no. Bruce knew how close you two were. Plus, if Damian was abandoning his duties to go out to protect and be with someone, he knew it was serious.

           You stayed behind, opening up your phone app to call your Mimi. She picked up immediately with a very peppy voice for this time of night.

           “Hello sunflower!” She chirped, “How are you?”

           “I’m doing good Mimi. I finished my math and science exams this morning and Damian and I are studying for Lit. and history.” You said smiling some.

           “Ahhh you and Damian?” You could tell just from her voice that she was smiling at his name.

           “Mhmm.” You giggled some like a child blushing, “I told him about what you said, about mom and he told me that he didn’t want to leave me at the farm without him.”

           “Well we could always use someone else around here.” Your grandmother said knowing how much he meant to you, “He can 100% come.”

           You smiled wanting to squeal in excitement at this response. “Thank you so much Mimi!” “Trust me, you’ll love him.”

           “I don’t doubt it one bit. Now you’d better hurry off to bed so you can do well on your tests in the morning.”

           “Okay, I love you Mimi.” You said sweetly.

           “I love you too Y/N.” She hung up and you saw Damian waiting at the doorway, not wanting to interrupt anything.

           “Uh, how long have you been standing there?” You asked seeing a small blush on his cheeks.

           “Just came up. So, what did she say?” He asked coming inside and sitting by you.

           “She said and I quote, “He can 100% come.”” You laughed doing an imitation of your grandmother as he chuckled, “And Bruce?”

           “Father understood and has permitted me to leave Gotham for as long as needed.”

           “This is amazing.” You smiled brightly, “You’re going to love the farm.”

           “I don’t doubt it.”

I hope you guys liked this one. I’m working on requests once again and I think I’m going to post them on queue because I liked how that worked lol. Anyways, I hope you guys are having a marvelous summer and week and send in any requests if you have them!

[petitprincess1]

My Roommate's A Demonic Deer Ch5 (A Month Later)

AO3 Link

Summary: Alastor tried to get Anthony to tell him about his bruises and after being yelled at...he tells him a little story.

Words: 2,353

WARNING: Abuse, bruises, gun violence, blood, death, suicide mention, and trauma. Oooh boy.

~~~

It was very late, past midnight and Alastor was just staring down at Anthony, who was also staring back at him. This intense staring contest was the result of Tony coming back home after a quickie, which he, unfortunately, explained in great detail to Alastor. The demon threw up in his own mouth...twice. However, Al also noticed the bruises on the human’s skin. This wasn’t the first time he noticed them, ever since the first time they met he saw healing wounds along his torso. 

Now, Alastor may be asexual, but he was no stranger to sex. ...He just didn’t have it very often, mostly used as an easier way to gain access to one’s throat, and rarely enjoyed the process, since he hardly cared for the person. So, he knew that bruises happen during intercouse. It also depended on the type of relationship, but it was normal.

However, for a man that was so open about how sexual he was, Anthony often hid his body quite often with many sweaters. He did wear shorts and crop tops at times, but it was only when the wounds were almost healed. Either way, Al still attempted to ask about them.Anthony avoided the question by trying to change the subject or try to make Al feel sick again by going into detail about his job. The demon just gave up after a while and they continued on with their evening in silence with glares at each other.

That brought them to the night where Alastor got annoyed by the silence, filling the house with white noise that plagued his mind. He snapped at Anthony and tried to get the human to show his bruises to him. It resulted in the two yelling at one another, throwing cushions, and occasionally getting neighbors to tell them to shut up.

So, now, they’ve been staring at one another from opposite sides of the bedroom, waiting for someone to make the first move. ...They were both kinda stupidly dominant like that. 

Alastor narrowed his eyes at Anthony and informed him, “You’re going to have to sleep at some point, you know? You mortals can’t last too long without some kind of rest, even just a nap.”

The human rubbed at his eyes, feeling his head nod a bit as sleep tried to take over him. However, he refused to rest as he snapped, “Why? So, ya can look at my body like some weird ass creep? How do I know that ya ain’t fakin’ concern ta just lower my guard?”

Alastor scoffed and told him, “Believe me, if I wanted and could kill you, then I would. I have no hesitation when it comes to my skill.”

“So, then why the hell do ya care!? It ain’t none of yer business as ta-”

Al interrupted as he snarled out, “It’s from Valentino, isn’t it?”

He watched Anthony tense up and stare at him in shock, staring at him for a few seconds. The startled expression quickly changed into anger as he asked in a low tone, no longer looking tired, “Wanna repeat that again?”

The demon leaned against the wall and rolled his eyes, saying in annoyance, “Don’t you dare pretend that you’re subtle. I’ve seen the way you tense up, your pupils shrink, and the way that you start to lightly tremble. Not only that, but any bit of excitement you have drains from you the moment he calls for you.”

“Yer makin’ shit up!”

“No, I’m not and you know that I’m not! I’ve drunk your blood. I know how you feel with him! It’s nothing but fear and worry and regret and- ...Point is that I know-”

Anthony then stood up suddenly and shouted, “Ya don’t fuckin’ know me! Yeah, sure, so fuckin’ what that I come home with bruises? So what that I might get a little worried about Val? That don’t mean shit! That ain’t evidence! Val is my fuckin’ pimp, for fuck’s sake! We ain’t in some lovey-dovey romance, not that that’s yer business! We have rough sex and I do what I’m told! There? Ya happy!?”

“No! You’re lying! You’re so obviously-”

“Well, what about you?” Anthony questioned, glaring harshly at Alastor. The demon looked taken aback, even attempting to step back despite being against the wall. He parroted, looking away from the human, “...What about me?”

The boy huffed and clarified, “Yeah! Ya know everythin’ ‘bout me from my damn blood, and yet I know nothin’ ‘bout ya! Ya haven’t told me anythin’ not even how ya got ta Hell, even though it’s pretty obvious! The only thing I know about is when ya died. I just- if yer gonna be askin’ about my personal life, then I get ta know yours!”

Alastor’s eyes widened and the corner of his smile twitched, not really knowing what to say next. He looked back up at Anthony and saw tears threatening to fall out the corner of his eyes, while he breathed heavily and hugged himself. It made Alastor...hurt. He heard the mortal sniffle as he mumbled, “Why would ya give me death threats one day and pretend ya care the next…?”

Al balled his hands into fists tightly as he watched Anthony march towards the door. He took a deep breath as the human grabbed the doorknob and then randomly blurted, “My mom let me make cookies with her!”

Anthony suddenly stopped and turned towards Al with a confused expression. The demon slid down the wall as he sat with his legs up to his chest. He just went on without much explanation, “Y-Yes...my mom let me help. Of course, she handled the ingredients part, but she...heh...let me “taste test” the dough to make sure it was edible.”

He gave a quiet chuckle and looked up at Anthony with a smaller smile. The human seemed hesitant at first, but he slowly walked towards Al with caution. The demon continued, “I always burnt the first batch and I got so sad, but my mom always ate that charcoal that was once a cookie to make me smile. I’m sure she was giving herself cancer with all that carcinogen, but hey. She didn’t care.”

Al laughed again, while Anthony had a small smile on his face. The mortal put his back against the bed as he sat in front of Al, sitting criss-crossed so that the long-legged demon had more room. Alastor sighed, “My dad would always come home late, but we never knew fully where he worked. We never minded though. My dad always brought home the heavy sugar, so we were happy!”

Anthony tilted his head, “Heavy sugah?”

“A lot of money,” Al explained with a bigger smile and then it dropped a bit. He continued, “My mom would also play the piano, mostly “Shine On, Harvest Moon”, and teach me at the same time, while my dad smoked his pipe on the couch. It was a typical, happy family. At least...I thought we were happy.”

“I think I started realizing the behavior when I was...9 or 10. My mom would always be so happy, but she also looked tired. Anytime my dad would come my mother would pull me off to the side and stress about how important it was that I remained happy. It didn’t matter what was going on or how exasperated he looked...just keep smiling.”

Alastor rubbed his forehead and Anthony was about to tell him that he could stop, but the demon just raised his hand. He wanted to keep going. After a few beats of silence, Anthony questioned, “What did ya do?”

Al shrugged, “I did what I was told. If she told me to continue smiling, then I would. If she told me to just keep playing the piano and not turn around, then I did. If she told me that it was all the sudden improper for a boy to do a woman’s job and be in the kitchen, then...I listened. ….Except for two times….when I didn’t.”

Anthony tensed up and felt really bad that he was morbidly curious as to what would happen next. Although...he had an awful feeling that he could guess what. Alastor gave a tiny whimper, looking at a random spot on the floor, “I can’t exactly remember these certain events that happened next. All I know is that...it was night, probably midnight. It was raining and I woke up after having a bad dream. I swore that I went downstairs to get some water, at least...I think what I’ve been telling myself.”

“I went downstairs and saw my father...hurting my mom. I don’t remember what all he was doing, but I heard my mom shrieking for him to stop. ...Just stop. I felt the cold tile on my feet as I quietly walked in, grabbed something that I needed both hands to hold, and then I was suddenly sitting on my dad’s stomach...stabbing his chest. My mom...now screaming at me to stop. My dad was choking on his blood and his eyes showed nothing but pain, but I didn’t stop...until he did. I blinked at the blood pooling onto the floor and my dad looking up at the ceiling with his eyes rolled back. I swear I even felt his body growing cold through his shirt. ...I do remember turning to my mom and saying, “Ma...I didn’t listen. I went into the kitchen. I’m sorry”.”

Alastor snapped his fingers and made an unlit cigarette appear in his hand. Anthony, despite how cold he felt at the story, got to his feet to open the window, letting in the sounds of the night. Al lit the cigarette, breathed in, and breathed out a plume of smoke towards the window. This was the smallest smile Anthony had seen Al had, and yet the demon continued with his story...and he listened.

“Like I said, I don’t remember much of the next few days. My mom did wake up screaming so much at night, fearing that my father was still alive and that he would come for us. ...I was just a child. I just slept with her whenever that happened. What else could I do? My mom also became very unresponsive. Hardly talking to me and often just...staring, mostly at the fire. I refused to leave her side at that point.”

“She also didn’t eat much, especially the food that I made, even though it was mostly sandwiches. The woman that would eat burnt to hell cookies couldn’t eat a simple ham sandwich. So, she grew frail as well,” Al took another drag of his cigarette before continuing, shaking a bit, “The last day I remember, my mom seemed to be…“getting better”. She did the laundry, helped me with my homeschool work, and we even played the piano together. All seemed fine, then my mom asked me to get a case from her and dad’s bedroom.”

“I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t even know what was in there, just knew that my dad brought it out with him sometimes. Either way...I did what I was told. ...When I came downstairs, she told me where the key was and I opened it up, feeling excited and wondering what it could be. It was a revolver.”

Anthony quickly spoke up, “Al, ya proved-”

“No...I haven’t,” Alastor interrupted Anthony, staring at the boy with serious eyes. He said after taking a drag, “My mom told me to...make sure that it had bullets inside, even telling me how to do it. There were. She told me to make sure nothing was wrong with it, no jams or anything. I did. Then, she instructed me to hold the gun steady and aim it at the side of her head. My mom even said that after I was done to place the gun in her hand and then go sit, maybe do my homework or make some cookies...don’t look at her face. I don’t remember when, but I started sobbing. I was so, so confused and scared. I was really hoping that she was joking. She was still smiling so calmly...as if she was trying to ease my fear- my chest hurt so much from how hahd I was breathin’.”

Alastor shook his head, listening to his radio flicker a bit, and then gave a bitter chuckle, “She played the piano...our song...she was singing.”

The demon messed with his monocle, his voice changing as it flickered through stations, and then he sung, “The night was mighty dark so you could hardly see, for the moon refused to shine~ Couple sitting underneath a willow tree, for love they did pine~ Little maid was kinda 'fraid of darkness, so she said, "I guess I'll go." Boy began to sigh, looked up at the sky and told the moon his little tale of woe~”

Alastor held out his hands in front of him as if he was holding a gun and slowly raised the “gun” with shuddering breath, “Oh, shine on, shine on, harvest moon up in the sky; I ain't had no lovin', since April, January, June or July,” he cocked the “gun”, “Snow time, ain't no time to stay outdoors and spoon; so shine on, shine on, harvest moon~ ….For me….and my-” he then pulled the “trigger”. 

Al gave a small hiccup as he placed his hands down after fixing his monocle and going back to his speaking voice. He muttered, “...I think I messed up the last note with that interruption and...the last thing I remember that day is that I told my neighbor when they came to inspect what happened and they let me stay at their house, “...I broke the rule. I saw her face…”.”

He looked at Anthony, who stared at him with wide eyes that were just swarming with emotion. He finished, snuffing out his cigarette, “Take it from me,

Anthony...don’t always just do...what you’re told.”

[staticscreenwriting]

Casual moths - chapter eight

Find the other parts on my masterlist here.

If you liked this part and wanna help me out, please consider a reblog. Thank you.

Chapter eight - secrets and labels

The heat is sweltering and Angel has to wipe the sweat off of his eyebrows every few minutes as he mounts yet another shelf on the walls of the flower shop.

He and Coco have been working on getting the shop back up for about 2 and a half weeks now. The windows are back in place, the shelves are almost all set up and most of the walls have received a fresh coat of paint. All that’s left to do is the big centre-wall, the one behind the counter that people see first thing as they enter the building. 

Back before the incident, that wall was painted a light blue colour, nothing overly exciting or eye-catching. Angel thinks that needs to change. Callie is no ordinary women and this shop should reflect that. A girl who’s overcome so many adversities and so many hardships, she deserves a masterpiece. Even if it’s just a drawing on a wall. He’s already got an idea on what to put there, all he needs now is some paint — and some time.

“ We good for today? “ Coco grumbles as he places a cigarette between his teeth ad lights it which earns him a smack on the head from Angel. “ What? “ 

“ Don’t smoke in here. Place is supposed to smell like flowers, not tobacco. “ 

Angel knows by the look on Coco’s face, there’s something more he wants to say. It’s probably some teasing comment about Angel being whipped or something. Though Coco doesn’t say the words in the end. Just shakes his head with a smirk and puts the cigarette back out. “ Whatever you say, man. “ 

Callie probably wouldn’t mind him smoking but Angel does. For no other reason than the fact that the place really does smell like flowers. Even though Callie has them all stored in her garage and works from there right now, the store still smells of peonies and lilies and roses. Maybe, Angel thinks, it’s a scent so strong it’s soaked into the walls and taken over. Or maybe, maybe it’s just wishful thinking because the scent of flowers is also the scent that follows Callie around — and he loves that scent. 

“ I’m gonna get some paint for the wall tomorrow. You free to — “ 

Though Angel doesn’t get to finish the sentence as the ringing of his phone interrupts him. He’s almost embarrassed to admit it to himself but when he catches Callie’s name on the display, his heart does a silly little jump. He’s never felt this way before and it’s both absolutely terrifying and incredibly exciting.

“ Hey, you. “ 

“ Angel “ 

She only says his name. She only says one single word but Angel immediately knows that something isn’t right. There’s no affection in her voice, no joy or warmth. There’s fear and he hates that.

“ What’s wrong? “ 

Coco’s head snaps towards Angel as those words tumble from his lips, eyes sending him a silent question. 

“ I — I was on the way to drop Daisy off at my mother’s place, I was just about 2 blocks away from the house and EZ escorted me almost all the way here so don’t be mad at him. “ 

“ Callie I don’t give a shit about EZ right now, what’s going on? “ 

“ Travis car is following me around and I don’t know what to do. “ 

This guy is really pushing his luck. Just thinking about that ugly silver car slowly creeping along and following his girls, makes Angel’s blood boil to a dangerous degree. 

“ Where are you? “ 

“ Um — on main street, almost by the ice cream shop. “ 

“ Okay. Listen, you’re just a few seconds from my dad’s shop. Go there, I’ll let him know you girls are coming and to meet you outside. Do not leave until I’m there. You hear me? “ 

Callie doesn’t say anything but he can hear her sniffle through the phone.

“ Babe? You’ll be safe there, I promise. “ 

“ I know. I know, I trust you. “ 

To hear that, it means everything. No one’s ever put a lot of trust in Angel. At least not until he found a family in the club and even then, he knows Bish isn’t 100% convinced of his loyalty. 

“ Good. I’ll see you in a bit. Stay safe! “ 

It’s not something he tacks at the end of his sentence out of courtesy. Not this time. 

“ Everything alright, man? “ Coco asks, eyebrows raised in question.

“ Nah. Nothing’s alright. You good to lock up here? I need to teach someone a lesson. “ 

“ Sure. “ 

“ Thanks man. For everything. “ 

He really means it. A friend like Coco, weird and ridiculous as he can be, is worth so much in a world like this.

Angel grabs his keys and rushes out the door towards his bike, while simultaneously dialling his dad’s number. For once in his life, he prays that time is on his side.

Callie’s car is parked in front of his dad’s butcher shop and Angel feels his heart expand in relieve. It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? How someone can become so important to you in such a short time that their happiness and their wellbeing directly impact your own.

As he steps into the shop, he hears giggling coming from the back. It’s a sound he will never get tired of. Daisy and Callie laughing in harmony, creating the most lovely melody. 

Angel Reyes never spent a lot of time thinking about his own death. Living life like the one he does, it’s something that’s always kind of looming over you but if you focus on it for too long it becomes a heavy burden on your shoulder. So he tries to ignore it mostly. But listening to his girls laugh, he hopes that whenever it’s his time to go, this is what he gets to hear before the end. Because this is the most wonderful sound to him.

“ Hello? “ 

Angel doesn’t receive an answer though as he follows the laughter he is met with the sight of his girls sitting on the couch of his father’s living room. He never knew, never would’ve guessed, that a sight like this was something he wanted to see. And yet, this feels weirdly monumental. Angel is almost sure this is one of the moments that, in retrospect, will be one of the important ones.

“ Angel! “ Daisy’s little voice calls out to him. At least it seems like she’s unaware of the strange mood, of the fear and the frustrations washing through him and Callie. 

“ Hey, princess. You girls are having a good time, huh ?” 

Daisy nods her head enthusiastically, making her curls bounce “so much fun. “

“ Your dad told us some stories about you. “ Callie elaborates.

Felipe sits in the recliner, a content smile visible from underneath his moustache. If he didn’t know him so well, Angel wouldn’t have noticed, alas he does know him well and notices the glint in his father’s eyes right away. Felipe is not happy with the situation. In fact, Angel is sure he’s not happy with the fact that he’s still involved with Callie and in relation, with little Daisy. In his father’s eyes, he’s sure, he will never be good enough for these girls. And truth be told, he probably isn’t. Though for his own sanity, and for Callie, he needs to let himself believe in the fact that he can be enough. That he can be the man Callie thinks he is. The man Daisy thinks he is.

Maybe for once in his life, Angel Reyes can be the hero of his own story.

“ Whatever he told you, it’s not true.” 

“ Only good things “ Felipe scoffs from his place on the recliner. 

“ Ah, I’m sure about that, pop. “ 

He walks over to Callie, places a soft kiss on her head. Her hair smells like heat and flowers and summer. Just like the shop, Callie seems to carry around te perpetual smell of blooming flowers. 

“ You good, mamí? “ 

“ I’m fine. “ 

“ Daisy?” 

“ She’s fine too. Don’t think she really realised something was wrong. “ 

Sometimes Angel wishes he could be a kid again. Just to feel the lightness that comes with it. The feeling of being unbothered by life. The innocence. 

“ Okay good. Did he follow you here? Did you see where he went? “ 

“ I don’t know, I — “ 

Though Callie doesn’t get to finish her sentence as the bell above the door signals a customer stepping into the store. Felipe gets up with a grunt and shuffles towards the front of the store. Whatever the customer says, it doesn’t sound all the way through to the back but just a moment later, Angel can hear his dad speak up loud and clear.

“ Well I am sorry, she’s not here. “ 

And it’s then, that Angel knows who just stepped in. Callie knows it too, he can see her eyes fill with a fear that he never wants to see ever again. It shakes him to his bones, it breaks his heart. Whoever puts it there, he needs to go.

Recognition flashes in the man’s face as Angel steps up next to his dad behind the counter. Travis looks rough. Black circles rim his bloodshot eyes. His shaggy hair hangs in greasy strands down his head and he looks like he hasn’t shaved his patchy beard in a while.

“ There a problem here? “ 

Felipe is just about to speak up when Travis interrupts him. 

“ I um — I’m looking for my girlfriend, actually. We had a fight and she ran off. Saw her come in here. I wanna know where she is. “ 

Angel can feel red hot anger bubbling inside him, taking over. He feels his heart beating faster, wrath causing his ears to ring and his troath to grow a knot.

Though he knows he should keep calm and collected and face this obstacle with a clear mind, that’s not who he is.

In the blink of an eye, he’s got the guy pinned to the wall. Though Travis doesn’t look scared, he just looks — slightly inconvenienced. Like this is just a blip on his grand plan. A tiny hurdle he will have to overcome. Angel won’t let that happen though. If this dude thinks he can mess with Angel’s girlfriend he’s got a storm coming.

“ She’s not your girlfriend and she doesn’t wanna see you. I know it’s you who trashed her place and I know you’ve been stalking here for a while now. I’m only going to say this once. This shit stops now! You don’t follow her anymore, don’t look at her, don’t even think about her or Daisy anymore. If I find out you’re still bothering her, I won’t be so nice. I’ll put a goddamn bullet straight between your beady little weasel eyes. You understand that? “ 

Travis stays silent.

“ I said, do you understand that? “ 

At that, he nods. Though Angel is anything but convinced. His eyes are empty, there’s neither fear nor understanding. Nothing. 

“ Now get the fuck outta here. I don’t give second chances, just so you know. “ 

The door fasl closed behind Travis and Angel lets out a big sigh. Not one of relief, one of frustration. As he glances up at his dad, he can see judgement. He should be used to it, it’s always there. But something about it irks him. He’s not wrong. Not this time!

“ What? “ 

“ I didn’t say anything! “ 

“ Nah but you want to. So come on, say it. “ 

“ Angel —” 

“ You still don’t think I am good enough, right? That’s what this is, isn’t it? You think I’m gonna mess things up for her and Daisy. “ 

“ I didn’t say that.” 

“ Nah, but you thought it. You don’t have to say it to mean it. “ 

“ Stop putting words in my mouth!” 

“ I’m not doing shit. You just can’t hide it from me. I know how it is.” 

Angel Reyes is prone to breaking his own heart. Sometimes his head is so loud and it tells him all the wrong things. Like how his dad will never be as proud of him as he is of EZ. How that is mostly his own fault. Like how his mom would be utterly devastated by the person he’s become. Sometimes the things that are not said, those that play in your own head, are far more heartbreaking and terrifying than the truth. Sometimes the demons you create yourself are the one that gonna eat you whole. 

Pushing past his dad he steps back into the room, seeing Daisy cuddle up to her mother. It’s a sight he’ll never grow tired of, he’s sure of that. His own little piece of heaven. Something soft and warm and happy. Not tainted by his part nor the demons of his present. Just the girls. Just home. A family that chose him. That stands beside him. 

“ Everything alright? “ Callie asks. There’s still fear lingering in her eyes where love should be but for Daisy’s sake, she’s trying to stay calm and not show it. Angel sees though, he always does.

“ Yeah. Everything’s good. Let me take you girls home. “ 

“ Will you stay? “ 

A family that chooses him. That wants him around.

“ Sure.”

“ It’s a nice day out, let me give you some steaks to grill. “ Felipe speaks up and Angel wonders if he feels even a spark of guilt. If this is him trying. 

“ Oh that would be lovely, thank you Felipe. “ 

Callie follows his father back into the shop as Angel plops down on the couch besides Daisy who looks up at him with big beautiful eyes shining with a glimmer of michieve. 

“Hey Princess, you good ?” 

“ Yup. I missed you. “ 

He’s not going to admit it but that sends his heart soaring.

“ We just saw each other last night. I tucked you in, remember?“

“ That’s very long. I missed you a lot. “ 

“ Yeah? “ 

“ Mmh. “

“ I missed you too, kid. “ 

And he realises then, that that’s not even a lie.

“ Does your daddy still have some emenems? “ 

“ Some what?” 

“ Emenems. The crispy ones. “ 

“ Oh, M&Ms. I dunno. You think I should check? “ Angel replies, a smirk on his lips and an eyebrow raised in question.

Daisy nods her head enthusiastically making her hair bounce. 

“ Alright, you wait here and I’ll sneak into the shop to see if I can find some. “ 

 By the smile gracing her face, Angel knows he’s doing something right. And maybe, if he can make her smile, he ain’t such a bad guy after all.

The door leading to the shop is opened slightly and just as Angel is about to step in, he catches a part of a conversation between his father and Callie.

“ Why are you apologizing? “ Felipe says and places a few steaks in a plastic bag.

“ Because I am getting you involved now too. I never meant for that to happen. I didn’t want Angel to have to deal with this either. I just — you are good people. You shouldn’t have to deal with my problems. They’re mine to fix. “ 

If Callie thinks, even for just a second, that Angel isn’t willing to fight her fights for her, she is absolutely mistaken. 

“ What are you saying, Callie?” 

“ Oh I just — Angel is such a wonderful guy and I don’t want him to have to deal with my shit. Sorry, my stuff. I don’t want you guys to be pulled into this and be inconvenienced or get in trouble. “ 

Angel hears his Father’s low chuckle at those words.

“ You know Angel is part of an MC right? You’re scared of getting him into trouble? “ 

“ I do. When I started — “ she sighs “ — things with Angel, I was very aware of who he is. Or at least of the club and what comes with the territory. I might not know the details but I am no fool and neither am I that naive. I knew what I was signing up for. I am afraid he just now realises what he got into when he chose to give me the time of day. I come with a lot of baggage. I’m scared of putting more weight onto him. “ 

Those words hit Angel at the core of his heart. The fact that she even as much as entertains that though is insane to him. There’s so much weight on him that pulls him down and threatens to drown him in this ocean of regret he’s forged himself. Callie though, she’s the one thing keeping him afloat. The one thing lifting his head from beneath the water. 

“ You know, “ Felipe exclaims “ us Reyes men have big egos. We are hot-headed and stubborn, all three of us. Thing is, we pick our fights and we pick them well. Because those are fought for the people we love. And how could anyone ever regret that?” 

“ You think so? “ 

“ I know so, Mija! I was not always a good father to my boys, especially to Angel. But I do hope that I raised him to be loving and brave and to protect the ones he loves. I know he thinks that I think less of him than of EZ. I know he thinks I am not proud. I love my sons, both of them. Equally. Angel was just — easier. EZ demanded attention and guidance. Angel was kind of independent from a young age so I failed to realise the moment when he did need help and guidance and me. That anger and resentment, that has kept him guarded and shut off from people. That is the fight I picked. It’s easier to let him resent me than to explain my own insecurities and shortcoming to him. I am proud of him though, he’s got a good heart, a soft one too. He thinks I don’t want him around you because I don’t think he deserves you. That’s ridiculous. I just know my son, and I know that my actions have turned him bitter and have put insecurities in his head that make him self sabotage. I’m not worried he’s gonna break your heart, I am worried my mistakes lead to him breaking his own heart. But to see you together, it gives me hope. So let him fight for it. For you. That’s what comes with being a part of this family. “ 

It’s like a punch straight into his guts. Though their relationship is strained, Angel feels a massive wave of guilt wash over him. He doesn’t want his dad to feel responsible for his issues. Though a lot probably doesn’t stem from the all-consuming, perpetual sense of being second best to EZ, many of Angel’s insecurities are lies and whispers his mind conjures when life gets chaotic. And that, for once, is not something he can blame on his dad.

“ He’s so amazing, Felipe. He’s warm and kind and goofy. He makes me smile like no other he — he steps up to be a guiding force in Daisy’s life. If nothing else, you and your wife showed him how to love someone. And that means a whole bunch in a world like this. “ 

It does. It really does.

“ Angel! Emenems, please. “ 

It’s like he’s stuck in a moment then, glued to the floor and yet he feels this magnetic force dragging him away. Pulled in both directions. Ultimately though, Daisy wins over. That conversation he’s heard, that was not meant for him. Secrets spilt out and hearts opened and none of it was meant for him to witness. Yet he did and Angel doesn’t think he’s able to forget that anytime soon.

“ Sorry corazon, no more m&ms “.

Daisy shrugs her shoulders casually. “ That’s okay. Can you sit with me? I don’t wanna be alone. “ 

And quite honestly, Angel doesn’t wanna be alone either.

The drive to Callie’s house is not exactly awkward but there’s a tension there, palpable in the air and yet neither of them can really put their finger on it. It’s like you know it’S there but you can’t name it or describe it and so you stay silent for a lack of anything to say. How to you talk about something you don’t even know ?

“ Do you — um “ Callie starts “ do you think he’s got the message? “ 

Angel glances towards her then lifts his hand from the stearing wheel and reaches for hers. 

“ I don’t know, I’ll be there though. If the fucker decides to come back, I’ll be there. “ 

“ Language. “ 

“ Oh fuck, sorry. “ 

“ Angel! “ 

She giggles at his antics and, if anything, that is so worth it. 

“ I heard you talking to my dad. “ 

Callie swallows audibly. 

“ You did? “ 

“ Mh. Querida, I don’t want you to think that you’re a burden to me. I made a choice to let myself enjoy what we have and to uh —  ah shit I am bad at this. “ 

“ Nah you’re good. Go on. “

“ I knew this thing we have was gonna be scary and unfamiliar and new. But I was willing to overcome that and to let myself — fall. I chose to let my guard down and that doesn’t change just because your own life ain’t all butterflies and rainbows. This is something now and your fights are my fights and my fights are yours. We’re in this shit together now. It’s what we choose. Willingly. “ 

“ So many quarters in the swear jar. “ 

“ Ah that’s what you take from this ? “ Angel laughs and tickles Callie’s side “ I’m pouring my black little heart out to you and this is what I get ? “ 

Callie leans over the middle, lips dangerously close to his ear. So close he can feel her hot breath on his skin. “ Oh I’ll repay you once Daisy is a asleep, don’t worry. “ And the hand previously locked with hers, softly squeezes her thigh at those words.

“ Hey uh — can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure, “ Angel replies.

“ I know this is very high school and everything. But I uh — I would like to put a label on us. I just feel like the way we tiptoe around it is kinda annoying. “ 

“ You askin’ me to be your official boyfriend? “

“ Do you want to be? “ 

“ I dunno, Callie. The least you could do is make me a card. With glitter glue and all that stuff. “ 

“ Stop making fun of me! “ she demands between laughs.

“ Not making fun of you. NEVER! “ 

“ You are. “

“ Nah. Nah. Listen, I would love to be your boyfriend. If that means you are my girl. “ he says then glances towards Daisy in the backseat, patiently playing with her barbie doll “ my girls.” 

“ Angel Reyes, “ Callie answers and places a kiss on his cheek “ we’ve been your girls from the moment we met. “ 

[always-andshewrites]

In chapter 2 Katniss has a talk with Madge and inadvertently learns some new information, pushing her to have a talk with her dad. Peeta initiates a talk with Mr. Everdeen, thinking he is going to get scolded for his and Katniss' "late night visits" only to have Mr. Everdeen thank him for helping his family out all those years ago. Dylan takes Katniss to the secret place in the woods where she hopes to get some answers, only to have more questions. Haymitch (with inspiration from Hazelle) does a nice thing for Madge; Poppy chats with her dad with a fancy coin that disrupts the Capitol's "bugs" with an idea to share it with K & P.; Madge and Katniss have "girl talk" and we even get a little bit of Madge/Prim. Katniss wakes up blindfolded, as Peeta whisks her away to the woods for some "alone time" before the tour. Katniss and Peeta wake Haymitch up and on their way home they see a car in his driveway... It can only be one person, right?In Chapter 3 Katniss and Peeta come face to face with the devil himself . . . And let the games begin . . .

Summary:

Katniss and Peeta made it out of the arena together, but little do they know the games are only beginning. Who can they trust as secrets are exposed and identities are revealed? This is the sequel to "Changing the Game"; a Hunger Games - Catching Fire rewrite. Told in several different character POV's.

Chapter 3 - Deal with the Devil

| Peeta |

Using my free hand to open the door because my other hand is being held hostage by the death grip from Katniss’ hand, I slowly push the door open.  I tense up when I feel my heart begin to accelerate from the thought of some Capitolite laying their filthy hands on any of my things.  It’s true that this is my home, but technically, it is the property of the Capitol, and thus, belongs to President Snow.  However, the thought of him or any of his goons in my home sends a murderous rage festering inside me.

The moment my foot passes the threshold my head snaps to the left, meeting Katniss' stare.  Both of us immediately recognize the all too familiar rancid aroma of blood and roses filling the air, informing us, without a doubt, who our intruder is.

‘Snow.’ Katniss conveys, casting me a worried glance and gripping even tighter onto my hand.

No one appears to be on the main level of the house, so we tiptoe, quietly making our way up the steps and to the second floor.  Stealthily, we creep down the hallway, eager to face our intruder, yet anxious at the same time.  I instantly take notice of the door to my art studio, which is always, without fail kept shut and locked up tight; is slightly ajar.  It is what grabs my attention, confirming that something is amiss.  All of our friends and family; or really anyone who visits us knows to steer clear of that room, aware of what lies beyond the threshold.

Curiosity overpowers our fear, and together we make our way into that room.  This is the one and only room I ask Katniss to stay out of, not because I have anything to hide but because I know the sight of my paintings will most likely trigger her gag reflex, in addition to causing her now dormant nightmares to return.  They are not so much paintings, but a visual timeline of each of my nightmares, a vivid recollection of our time in the arena.  

When I glance down the row of paintings, for the first time I see them as an onlooker would and cannot help but notice how each one is more vibrant than its neighbor.  Most likely because the nightmares become more lucid and lifelike the closer the Victory Tour gets.

Katniss doesn’t want or need a visual to remind her of the horrors we faced in the arena. But for me, it’s like . . . like a form of therapy.  It’s like if I have the ability to remove the images from my mind and transfer them onto a canvas; by turning them into a still life portrait, something tangible, it grants me control; the power to lock them away forever, or even burn them if that’s what I wanted to do.

As much as I want to forget the horrors we faced and as much as I want to expunge the memories from my mind, at the same time I don’t want to forget.  If I forget, then who would remember Thresh and Rue?  And what about the other tributes?  No, I need to remember, it’s what gives me the motivation to continue living my life.  The drive to fight our battle.

Once the door is open, we see the backside of a man with fluffy snow-white hair.  He is dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, slowly pacing the length of the room.  His hands are clasped behind his back, giving a slight nod here and there, as if offering his approval at the paintings lining the wall.

“Dammit— Lucy . . . Kill . . . Mock—jay . . .” I think I hear him mumble to himself just as his body tenses for a moment.  I am instantly intrigued and wonder who this “Lucy” is.

‘Did you—’ I meet Katniss’ eyes, curious as to if I’m hearing things.  She nods, confirming my sanity.

'Peeta, I'm scared.'  She shudders, squeezing my hand a little tighter, if that is even possible.  I reciprocate, entwining our fingers, assuring her that I am not going anywhere.

'It's going to be okay; he's not going to hurt us.' I tell her, though not quite certain myself.  It is moments such as these that I am grateful for whatever forces have bestowed us with our telepathic link.  The ability to communicate silently while in the presence of others has proven to be more than . . . useful.

“Aghhem . . . Excuse me, can I help you?”  I announce our presence, clearing my throat to grab his attention.  I would recognize that snowy white hair anywhere, I do not need to see his face to know his identity, but I still need him to turn around and face us.

“These are quite remarkable.”  President Snow takes his time turning around as he compliments the painting behind him, presenting his face with an approving smirk.  This particular painting details one of his ferocious mutts from the arena; a squirrel foaming at its mouth fills the page, while Katniss and I are drawn as miniscule beings in the far bottom left corner of the canvas.  I am leaning over the side of the cornucopia gripping firmly onto Katniss’ calves while she aims the golden arrow at the Queen.  Why am I not surprised that this painting brings him pleasure?

On the other hand, I do not miss the way he sneers disapprovingly at the canvas portraying me and Katniss with our allies from District Eleven.  I have captured us high up in a tree with our friends, seeking refuge from those who mean us harm.  Katniss and I are settled in our sleeping bag on a branch; just below us are Thresh and Rue in an almost mirroring position.  I remember that night so clearly as we swapped stories from our district’s.

“President Snow, what an honor, what—” Katniss begins to offer pleasantries, but the deleterious man in front of us cuts her off before she brings it to completion.

“I think we’ll make this whole situation a lot simpler by agreeing not to lie to each other.  What do you think?”  Snow says with his affected Capitol accent and a hint of arrogancy. His lips are plump and full, the skin appearing painfully tight as he speaks, causing me to believe they must be surgically altered.  Lips that full just aren’t natural.

‘I think it’s meant to highlight his features.’ Katniss quips and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to mask my amusement.

“Yes, I think that would save time.”  Katniss affirms, her voice confident and steady as she stands tall.  She has one hell of a poker face but she can’t fool me.  She is utterly terrified, as am I.

Snow continues to marvel over the neighboring paintings for a moment before a sly grin appears on his face.  He follows it up with a nod of approval and then his eyes are back on me.  “I heard you were talented Mr. Mellark, but I just had to see it for myself.  I would never believe that someone from as lowly a district as Twelve could produce such . . . works of art.”  He begins, slithering to the far corner of the room and taking a seat in a chair behind a desk.  Wait a minute, where did that desk come from?  Before today, this room contained only my artwork, an easel, a handful of blank canvases, various containers of paint, my brushes, and a few other random art supplies.  Either I’m losing it or, or— did he bring this furniture with him?  Is it meant to . . . intimidate us?

'What do you think he wants?' Katniss presses, never removing President Snow from her line of sight.

“Please, why don’t you have a seat?”  Snow affirms, motioning for us to take a seat in the sophisticated looking high back chairs in front of him.  However, I get the distinct impression the “please” was not merely a request.  Katniss and I take a seat, refusing to release our grip on the other’s hand and scoot our chairs closer to the other so that our knees are brushing.

'I have no idea, but I have a feeling we are about to find out.  And . . . where did the desk and chairs come from?'

‘No clue.’ She answers without missing a beat.

Unsure as to how I should respond to President Snow’s remark, I say the first thing that pops into my head.  “President Snow, my paintings will be on display in the Capitol in just a few weeks, so I know you didn’t come all the way out here just to see them.  Why don’t we forgo the pleasantries, and you can tell us why you have chosen to grace us with your presence.”  I assert, holding my head up high, recalling my lessons on proper etiquette with Effie as I come off as unperturbed.  I really hope he can’t see how utterly terrified I truly am.

[captainkippen]

I don't know where I'm going with this, it's just a piece of free writing because I felt inspired. Might keep going and turn it into a short story or something.

TW: Implied abuse.

1994.

The door clatters open like a twister is blowing through and I jerk up with such violence I almost slide right off my seat. There are a few bleary-eyed moments of confusion as my heart calms down before a takeaway cup of coffee is thrust under my nose and I'm forced to take it before it ends up decorating my shirt.

"Rise and shine, loser. You fall asleep at your desk again? You know you're gonna have permanent keyboard marks on your face if you keep doing that."

I bat Jay's hands away from my neck, saving myself from one of his terrible massages. He keeps telling me he has magic hands, but I'm pretty sure the crick in my neck only sticks more stubbornly when he tries to get rid of it. I give my shoulders a roll, sighing into the satisfaction of feeling my joints click, and swivel around to face him.

He's dressed in the same clothes he wore to mall yesterday and the heavy stench of too many cigarettes clings to him which means he probably spent the night at Ricky's - our local 24 hour diner - periodically ducking into the alley to burn through a new pack of Marlboroughs. A fresh smudge of dark purples and blues stains the skin around his eye. I hope he at least gave his brother a bruise back to match.

"What time is it?" I punctuate my question with a yawn just to make a point, but he just grins and holds up his watch.

7:15AM. Wonderful. At least he waited until he used the front door for once. My parents fret about him breaking his neck every time he leaves scuff marks on the window ledge to avoid waking them up.

"Did you actually get any sleep last night?"

"Did you?" He fires back with a raised eyebrow, shrugging off his jacket and flopping onto my bed to grab the latest issue of Rolling Stone from where he left it strewn across one of the pillows last time he crashed here. Comfortable silence falls as I admire the way his fingers bend the magazine back. There's this little crease that forms between his brows whenever he's concentrating, physical evidence of him trying to force his brain to focus on one thing at a time and not the myriad of random thoughts bouncing in there at any given time. I hide my smile in my coffee - he knows I'm not really annoyed, but I refuse to give up the illusion. It's a ageing routine, but one I never get bored of.

I count the minutes until the silence breaks. One. Two. Thr-

"So I was thinking," he says, the sighs like he's exasperated at his own inability to keep words in. It's one of the many things I like about Jay - he always speaks his mind. It makes it easier to understand him.

"Dangerous task for you."

An unimpressed middle finger greets my words before they're completely out. I hold back a snort.

"Sorry. Go on?"

We've known each other since we were seven. Across the street neighbours. He was the first person I met when I moved in with my foster parents. In a street full of unfamiliar tree and looming white houses he sat there on the curb pretending to fish with a stick and a piece of string. He'd called over as I got out of the car, asked if I liked trout. I didn't even know what trout was. That was okay. It was gross anyway, apparently.

I don't remember ever making friends so easily, like we just fell together and that was it. No fuss. Ten years on and the surprise hasn't waned.

"You guys want breakfast?" My mom pokes her head around the door with a tired smile, interrupting whatever train of thought Jay was hopping on.

I shake my head and lift my coffee, ignoring the disapproving look she gives me. Coffee is not food nor is it particularly good for you, but it's also not worth a battle over nutrition before eight o'clock.

"All good here, Mrs H." Jay smiles, all teeth and charm and twinkling eyes, then pats his stomach as if to confirm it. It's a smile that's impossible to disagree with when it's directed right at you.

"You sure? Alrighty then," Mom says, doubt creeping into her tone despite her fond look. She was forever trying to feed Jay, convinced he was too skinny. Worried he wasn't getting enough to eat. I can't say I blame her - some days Jay looks like he's auditioning to play Mike Teevee right after he got put through Willy Wonka's stretching machine, but it's all an illusion. I've watched him consume an entire box of donuts in one sitting more than once. His stomach might as well be a trash compactor for all the junk he eats. Plus he always has snacks tucked into the glove compartment of his car in case of emergencies, right alongside a sock full of laundromat destined quarters, a spare toothbrush and his shaving kit.

"Sawyer, honey, can you please clean up a bit in here? It looks like a bomb hit it. Guests don't want to sit in this."

"Half of this is his mess!" I splutter as my mom smiles and disappears back down the hall. "He's not even a real guest!"

Jay only laughs and ducks out of the way when I throw a balled up sock at his head. Asshole.

"So as I was saying..."

"As you were saying," I roll my eyes, gesturing for him to continue.

"I think we should do something."

"What, like go to the movies?" There's nothing good out at the moment, I'm pretty sure. We spent all last weekend debating whether or not to go see the latest Keanu Reeves movie only to spend all our cash on popcorn and get kicked out halfway through because Jay's running commentary made me laugh so hard I choked.

"No man, like... something interesting."

"...bowling?"

He shoots me an unimpressed look and I raise my hands in surrender. What else could he possibly have in mind? Our town only has three things to do; movies, bowling or the mall. We've been cycling through each option all summer. It's the same thing every year and it does get old after a while, but it beats sweating to death outside and spending all day playing video games sets my dad off on the perils of computer addiction. If I ever have to hear another lecture about technology rotting my brain it'll be too soon.

"For a writer you sure are lacking imagination."

"Well what do you suggest, then?" I huff.

There's a gleam in his eye and the warning lights start flashing in my brain just a beat too late. I know that look, it's the kind that got me put in detention three weeks in a row last semester for filling Roy Jackson's football helmet with food dye after he called spread a false rumour that Mary Harring blew him in his backseat. In my defence, it was all Jay. In his defence, I didn't stop him. Principle Ikener's never looked so disappointed. Roy Jackson's face was pink for a week. Scraping gum off the bleachers has never been so satisfying.

"Okay, hear me out first, alright," he says as I groan. We both know I'm already doomed to agree, but we play the part like he has to convince me anyway. Like I said, an ageing routine.

There's a pause in which I repress a sigh and let him dramatically drum roll his fists through the air and then he says, "Europe."

The word is emphasised with jazz hands and I can only stare at him for a moment, my brain trying to compute it. Did I mishear? Did he get part way through a sentence then forget the rest? He stares at me expectantly and it's all I can do to repeat the word slowly after him. His resulting nod is reminiscent of my aunt's excitable golden retriever.

"What about Europe...?"

"We should go."

"What?"

"To Europe," he insists. "We should go."

"You want us to go to Europe."

He looks at me like I'm being deliberately stupid. "That's what I said."

"But... why?"

Summers at home are dull. Three long months of sweltering heat and so many snow cones we make ourselves sick, and weeks on end of trying to think of new things to do, but it has never been so bad that we've resorted to leaving the country before. I'm confused.

"You're always talking about how much you want to travel! And we've got time. two and a half months before school. Think about it, we could be spending that time on the beaches in Spain, or looking at fancy architecture in Italy! I can drag you 'round some museums, you can force me on a tour of places famous English writers lived and we can get sick of each other in style."

Morning light spills through the window and highlights the dustmotes in the air. The bruises on his face seem darker with his face haloed in gold. I get another whiff of cigarettes and realise the smell is staler than usual.

"I don't know," I say. "My parents-"

I get a set of pursed lips in response. His expression is strained.

"Your dad is always saying we should broaden our horizons. He'll be thrilled. Besides, think of all the cute European girls we'll meet."

"How would we even afford it?"

It's a deflection. For a pair of teenage boys, we're both pretty good with money. Weekend jobs at Blockbuster and Baskin Robbins. I still have money saved from my Bar Mitvah, mostly because I've never really wanted anything enough to really splash out. My clunky computer works just fine and I'm content with books and notepads. Jay saves like his life depends on it, and maybe it does. Money for gas and food for the infinite hours spent avoiding his own home. Money for college. Money for escaping.

He stares me down.

One, two, three days since he left the Rolling Stone on my pillow only to pick it back up this morning. I'd noted his lengthy absence yesterday, but I'd just assumed he'd gone fishing. I should have known something was off.

"Please?" There's a desperate edge to his tone that rugs at my heartstrings and it's all I can do not to demand he tell me why he's suddenly so keen on visiting Europe when he's never expressed any such desire before. Instead I just sigh.

"Okay, but you get to convince my mom."