#not like it's coming close to approaching either of those (lol) but this seems to be one of those fics

[hua-fei-hua]

every day i check the ao3 tags for my otp like a listless little homeless kitten rummaging through the dumpster

[venusjeon]

angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himself was a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.��

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he’d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro” she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ‘Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn’t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

[lilyginnyblackv2]

Some long, big thoughts on Kazuki, Rei, and being “Fathers.” - SPOILERS!

I really think this episode is when Kazuki and Rei really face the reality that they are Miri’s FATHERS. Like, it finally sunk in.

The lady here uses otou-sama, which is a very formal way to address the two of them, very stuffy. But also very...Japanese. In Japan, it is very commonplace nowadays for little kids to use papa and mama when addressing their parents, but those are still seen as loanwords. They don’t carry the same weight as being referred to, and seen as, FATHERS.

That question and how they would be perceived by others really hit them here. They aren’t just playing house at home anymore, they are out in society and are going to be perceived as this Miri’s fathers. That may also come with the assumption that they are a couple or in a relationship with each other. 

They both look uncomfortable here at that realization, but neither one really denies it either. Of course, this daycare is very unwelcoming and the lady far more judgmental than Anna. So that also likely plays a part in how they feel and react here too. The first daycare they go to  focused more on the business side of things. 

The room is huge, but empty, the walls are colorful, but not bright. Miri is sent off to play with blocks and the lady never directly addresses her or asks for her thoughts on things. Everything about this daycare is unwelcoming and uninviting and unaccepting, so Rei and Kazuki act coldly to this initial realization and the usage of the word FATHER here, seems very fitting.

It’s not a happy, bubbly, childlike, and even fantastical like the word “Papa” is. And the lady interviewing them, was definitely judging them, even before Miri started mentioning some more...suspicious stuff, lol.

Now, when they go to Aozora Daycare, Anna also addresses them using the word father in Japanese, but she goes with otou-san, still formal, but not stuffy and far more common and approachable. It’s still not “Papa” though. She only uses “Papa” when she talks to Miri about Rei and Kazuki. 

(In the Japanese she directly addresses Kazuki first by calling him otou-san and then stating that she was asking Miri, not him, haha). 

We are met with understanding here, though. Not judgement. The walls of Aozora are filled with children’s art projects, a piano that indicates singing and dancing time as a group, and warm smiles and comfy clothes. Everything that indicates a child-first daycare center. 

The whole interview process ends successfully. The daycare views them as suitable parents and Miri got accepted into the school. 

And while Rei looks disinterested during this entire interview. He was paying just as close attention to everything as Kazuki was, and if watch the high-five scene with a good eye, you can see that Rei actually has his hand up and waiting for Miri’s high-five before Kazuki.He understands her and her flow so well.

The rest is going under a Read More due to length.

Next we see them navigating all the prep work. And even though Rei did fall asleep at one point, we see that they both put in as much effort and energy as they can to get everything right for Miri and her first day of daycare. They both read through the handbook, write her names on things, even Rei did some sewing too. They exhaust themselves out. 

They think they make a great first impression on that first day:

But they make a lot of faux pas in the world of Japanese parenthood (specifically in a space that tends to be dominated by motherhood).

Arriving by car = ✘

Wearing suits that aren’t black = ✘

Having Miri wearing clothes that look expensive = ✘

Arriving by car is equated to wealth and money, and even to showing off, as opposed to riding a bike.

Wearing suits that aren’t black is associated with the underbelly side of Japan, men that work in the red light district or with the yakuza. An exception to this would be like, in many places, the entertainment business.

Dressing Miri up in clothes that look expensive plays into the whole “yakuza daughter” vibes, but also makes it so that she stands apart from the other children. It can also make it so that Miri has a difficult time putting the clothes on and off herself, which could take up class time when coming in from play time, getting ready to go home, and etc.

I worked at a juku (cram school) with a daycare. Most of the students I cared for there were native Japanese kids between 2 - 4 years old whose parents were working in America. My boss would often get annoyed when parents would bring their (usually daughters) in wearing fancy shoes that looked pretty, but hurt the child’s feet and were hard for the child to take on and off themself. 

Kids around Miri’s age are also shown to be aware of economic and social class on some level as well. 

LOS ANGELES, Calif. (Ivanhoe Newswire) -- Rich, poor, middle class. Parents often believe it’s their responsibility to shield their children from economic differences and social class.

But new research shows children as young as five years old are not economically blind. In fact, by the time they reach prekindergarten, kids know the difference.

This group of primary school kids already knows what money can buy.

Combine that with the (thirsty though they were) mothers who probably advised their children to not get on Miri’s bad side because of her dad’s, and her outfits that set her apart, and scenes like this one:

Don’t seem so out-of-place.

When Kazuki and Rei pick Miri up at school, her answer to “How was your first day? Have fun?” being “I dunno yet.’ Set’s off alarm bells - even with Rei.

His brows are furrowed. He knows that something is off and wrong with that statement. They don’t know what they did wrong, and they don’t know how to fix it. Miri gets quieter and sadder and this is the first time they’ve had to actually deal with Miri on a deeper, emotional level. 

That feeling like you are failing a child (whether your own, one of your students, or just a child in your care) is such a devasting feeling. This episode expresses it well by having these scenes all take place on the way home from the daycare, when the sun is setting. 

Thankfully, Kazuki is open to listening to what Miss Anna has to tell him, and she is so supportive. She doesn’t judge them or treat them like they are incompetent or incapable. She just gives them the push in the right direction, with “insider info” in a way, to get them and Miri acclimated correctly. And Rei and Kazuki jump on it. They love that they’ve found this place with a bunch of good quality cheap shit that can help them and make their lives easier.

And after this, Miri goes to school in regular clothes. Kazuki goes to the play area in the regular clothes, and he is just genuine and authentic with the kids. He doesn’t dress Miri up in a way that sets her apart anymore (on a class level, in a way that makes the other kids think she is “saying” “don’t play with me.”). 

Kazuki, especially, isn’t trying to “fake it until he makes it anymore.” He isn’t trying to give the impression that they are rich. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he also felt a bit more pressure to get everything right because he and Rei are two guys raising a kid together - two FATHERS. 

But then he realizes letting Miri and him and Rei just be themselves is enough.

This was very much so a Kazuki issue that ended up negatively impacting Miri. A situation I’m sure every parent (or even teacher, like I’ve been before) has experienced on some level. It’s one of the harsher parts of being a parent and trying to help your child and do what’s right.

And now, he and Rei have one foot further into parenthood, since they know about this new shop and:

Gave Miri her own room.

That is such a big deal. Similar in a way to how people say not to name an animal unless you plan on keeping it as a pet. Not because Miri can be compared to a pet or an animal in any way like that, but because of what it implies on both an emotional attachment level and a “she is now a permanent part of our household” level. 

That's a fully decorated room, filled with toys and plush dolls and games, a bed, books, a rug, even a desk. A desk filled with stationary supplies for her to learn and something which is viewed as a necessity for children to have at home when they are in elementary and junior high school (especially). 

Rei and Kazuki have gone from being Miri’s “Papas” on a sort of imaginary, “playing house” level, with very limited outside and real-world/societal interactions to being her fathers. They have integrated her and themselves as her parents and fathers into society on a large level now. 

By investing in that room, they are investing in Miri, and are openly choosing to be viewed as her fathers - as partners. Even if they don’t necessarily view each other in that way, it doesn’t matter to them in the end, because Miri is what’s most important. 

(Note: I will link to the news article and report that stated that information about children and economic class recognition in the comments).

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day five: size kink

>>> so obviously there is no other option size kink and toji fushiguro are synonymous in my book! i do call him zen'in in this so i guess we can be mama fushiguro lmao! i hope you guys are having a good time with kinktober so far :D

>>> starring toji (zen'in) fushiguro x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: size kink duh, daddy kink i'm not apologizing anymore, reader is stuck in a washer, doggy, oral (fem receiving), reader is used to shit men lol >>> wc: 2.3k >>> event masterlist

toji is massive, in every form of the word. he’s tall, towering over most people he comes across at his looming stature. most of the time, tall people were lanky and lean, slender with limbs that stretch for days. he didn’t fit the stereotype. toji was beefy, his biceps were the size of your head and his hands could cover your entire face. his arms aren’t where it stops either, his chest is broad; he’s so impossibly wide, always struggling to find clothes that fit him right. not that you mind too much of course, watching those poor t-shirts try to contain him rile you up to no end every time. he was always there to grab whatever you needed off of high shelves, changing lightbulbs and dusting the ceiling fans because it was all too easy for him to do. he was ridiculously strong, able to open even the tightest of jars and sweep you into his arms like it was nothing. it wasn’t like you ever overlooked toji’s size, it’s just that you never thought yourself all that small. 

in fact, you struggled with your figure a bit, never quite knowing where you fit in for most of your life. boys either made you feel too insecure over your size or only ever wanted you for that curvy and voluptuous figure. at first, toji was no different, knowing how to talk at a beautiful girl when he sees one. he approaches you, lays out some dirty and cheesy pick up line that’s not even remotely close to original, and is honestly surprised when you snort through your nose and roll your eyes. 

“i had more hope outta you, you were actually cute.” you sneer, quickly turning to keep walking down the quiet streets without any more trouble. and that was it–you really weren’t going to give him a second glance even though you admitted he was attractive? he had never really been turned down before, his looks alone enough to open any door. seems with a body like that you were used to gross one-liners. 

“hey, little lady, wait.” he said, his voice a little softer than it had been when he was hitting on you before. you had already walked a few feet away, but noticing the slight change in disposition, you halted. “maybe that was a bit much, i got ahead’a myself.” he says, tilting his head down in an apology. “let me make it up to ya?” 

your eyes narrowed at him. his arms were folded over his chest, the fabric of the struggling shirt expanding to its fullest potential. his hair ruffled a bit with the warm breeze that blew through, the color of his locks as dark as the night sky—though his eyes shone like the stars above too, something in the green expanses of the hazy orbs twisting your gut and making you decide that if anybody deserves a second chance, it was this sexy stranger. could you even be that angry at him for his lewd comment when you were eyeing him down too, only thinking of his physical attributes?

at your hesitation he speaks again. “let me walk you home. it’s late, and like i said, you’re very pretty.” he raises his brow as if asking one final time. you breathe some air out through your nose, suspiciously looking him up and down at the offer. “no funny business, just protection, little lady.” he swears with his hands by his head. 

you hum, nodding your head for him to follow you as you start walking, hips swinging and hair swaying. when he thinks back on it maybe he fell in love right here, watching you stomp towards your house with way more attitude than your tiny body should contain, doing your damndest to try and play hard to get. but toji’s no fool. he follows you, he increases his strides to catch up with a small effort, but he’s walking beside you with a smug look on his face. 

he makes meaningless chit-chat, learns about some of your hobbies and about your job. he gets your phone number, and apologizes one last charismatic time before you shut the door of your apartment and he’s walking back home, thinking of how he rarely plays the long game for a woman. but he knew you were worth it, the perfect little thing to brighten his days. 

unlike you, toji realized how tiny you were immediately. sure, you were curvy and your chest and ass definitely were not small–you even had a little tummy to you, but you were just so short and compact, he knew he could manhandle you like a toy. not to mention how cute and bratty you were, he was all but compelled to be your man and fuck that attitude right out of you. 

so the long game he played, talking to and courting you like a proper adult, though it isn’t long until you’re accepting him into your home and letting him tame that bratty streak of yours. 

and you’re so glad you decided to give the ginormous stranger another go. he earns his place in your heart and in your home in under a year, and you’ve been grateful for his presence around the house. he makes you feel safe and protected, your own personal security guard. no place could be safer than those hulking arms trapping you to a chest at least two times as wide as yours. his hands always felt so warm and rough against your frame, seeing them against your body always made you feel like the daintiest thing in the whole world. god, and the way those enormous fingers moved inside your little hole—

maybe that’s why you thought you thought you could rely on the burly man you’ve come to love to be the perfect boyfriend he’s shown you he can be, despite the weird looks you get walking around in public with toji zen’in. you never minded the whispers or the rumors of his reputation, you knew him better than anyone, another reason you thought that when you screamed out his name for help, that he’d come running to your rescue. 

to which in part, he did, to his credit. when he heard your voice far away in the laundry room hollering for him, sounding a little too afraid for his comfort, he was there in an instant. but rescuing? nah. he couldn’t help but laugh at your compromising situation. you’re face first in the top load washer, your top-half completely invisible, ass and legs squirming in the air. of course you’d fall in, the height of the washer was something you often complained about; you had to basically crawl inside the machinery to get clothes in and out, and it annoyed you to no end. now, the worst had happened and here you are. you couldn’t even just push yourself out due to how high your legs dangle, you’d surely fall. 

you know what they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and as good as toji has been to you, he can’t repress the perverted fantasy his mind drums up at the sight of your tiny body stuck in the washer. you kick your feet harder at the sound of his laughter, to which he can only belly chuckle harder.  

“you need some help, darlin’?” he teases, large hands wrapping around your ankles, halting your kicking immediately. he holds your legs there by his thighs, standing between them. he smirks down at your fat ass jiggling and recoiling as you try to squirm your way up the washer. he chuckles at your failures and the sounds of frustrations that follow, until you finally whine out for help. 

“toji— just get me out of here.” you pout flatly, folding your arms over your chest inside the barrel. he chuckles deeply again, sliding his hands up your bare legs until they came across the mounds of your ass. he squeezes the flesh almost tenderly. 

“but little lady,” he hums as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly drags them down your legs. he has to kneel to get the garment completely off, but he doesn’t mind. he decides kneeling is advantageous for him, especially once he sees your pretty little hole clenching around nothing, just eager to be filled. “ya look like a little toy from down here,’nd i’m thinkin i oughta play.” he has to spread your ass cheeks a little bit to see you in all your glory before he leans in to lick a stripe from glistening slit to your puckering asshole. he growls at the flavor, something he just can’t stop himself from doing no matter how many times he gets to taste you. you can feel the soft tickle of his hair against the insides of your thighs, the searing heat of his tongue making your squirm back against him in a desperate search for more. 

you should have known toji would be greedy, taking advantage of your inability to move and abusing that to the fullest. he laps at you, shoving his fat tongue into your tiny little hole, fucking it wider for his cock to use. after all these months of him fucking you open, you were still so tight and small. you hug even his tongue, silky wet walls making his eyes roll back a little bit. his large hands hold your asscheeks, kneading like a kitten making biscuits, even though it felt more like a lion pawing at you. you taste so good, it has his cock jumping against his zipper and begging for freedom. he decides to deny himself that simple pleasure, focused on driving more of those cute little whimpers from your lips. the tunnel of the washer was amplifying all your sounds, and he felt the torture of not having your tiny cunt wrapped tight around his cock every passing second. 

you were panting, beginning to feel dizzy from being nearly upside down. every stroke of toji’s tongue massaging your fluttering entrance and the intensity of his deft fingers flicking your clit combined sent you spiraling, both physically and literally, towards the edge. he can’t help but lean back and watch the way you fuck yourself back on his mouth for more, picking up the pace of his fingers to send you over your limit. it’s so cute to watch your thighs clench down and shiver as you cum, screeching and begging for his dick next. 

and who was the feared sorcerer killer to deny such a sweet request from his beloved? his pants are off, belt clinking against the floor. you ready yourself, feeling the rough warmth of his hands envelop your sides and his hips cleave your thighs apart yet again. he’s so strong, he doesn’t even have to use his hands to toss you around, positioning you exactly the way he needs you to fuck you into pieces. his cock splits your lower lips and he unceremoniously bottoms out, eyes clenched shut at how your tiny cunt grips him. your jaw drops with the feeling of being so full at once, his cock just as broad and long as the rest of him. he kisses your cervix before he’s even started moving and you’re already squirming and crying like always. the stretch burns, every time feels like your first with toji. especially like this, you’re bent in half and he’s so deep in doggy that you’re seeing stars—though that could be due to the dizziness swirling around your head. 

“so tight f’me like always, gorgeous.” he chuffs, drawing back to the tip and plowing his length back in, entranced by how you clench and release around him. you mewl your acknowledgement, your hips eagerly moving back against him for more friction, his strokes deliriously slow. 

he notes your impatience, amused. 

“need more, little thing?” he teases, licking his smirking lips at the sound of your pathetic whines and kicks. you nod eagerly, realizing he can’t see it. 

“yes, daddy, please! need you to make me cum–” 

before you can finish your sentence, he’s punishing you for asking for it. this angle is so unforgiving, you can feel every vein decorating his shaft as he destroys you, the tip colliding with your womb so hard it has your toes curling and vision going white. his grunts are so low and delicious, a reward for the perfect pussy you offer him nightly. it’s so good, he can’t stop until he beats your insides into the shape of the dick making you scream right now. 

your ass bounces around his thrusts, absorbing every snap of his hips into your unsuspecting and fragile body. he loves watching you break, like his own personal little doll.

“cum–daddy oh my god i’m gonna cum so hard!” you whine, thrashing. 

“oh coat this cock, babygirl.” he groans, feeling himself letting go, unable to fight back against your vice grip anymore. “cum with me, need to feel it.” his head falls back as you spasm around him, the vision of your little pussy accommodating his size too much to bear. 

“god, please toji!! cum, cum, i need it so bad.” you whimper, your voice so breathy and tired, so beautiful as you beg for his load. it’s already established that he can’t deny you, so he doesn’t. he slides his cock in and out of your slick one last time, hissing as his balls tighten and explode into your cunt, white-hot and heavy. it fills you to the brim like it always does, even when his enormous dick withdraws from you and the mix starts to escape down your thighs you still feel impossibly full. 

finally, he rights you onto your feet, his strong steady hands keeping you upright as you wobble a bit. when your vision stops spinning and you bring yourself to open your eyes again, you’re met with toji’s smirking face. his eyes are lazy with amusement and love as he looks at you, giving you an affectionate pat to the head. 

“kinda wanted to leave you there ‘nd keep usin’ ya like that.” 

[vivivav]

‼️ 14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI ‼️

Are these headcanons? am i theorizing? am i analyzing his character? could these just be kinda writing prompts? god fucking knows atp

Kinda turns into just…. a Renren appreciation post at the end. Love them

- If angel is someone who talks to themselves a lot, Ren would thoroughly enjoy that and sometimes reply as if they were having a conversation, and would frequently even use it as an opportunity to practice their “haruko” persona as he replies to them

- Usually when people are on their electronics they almost never look at the little camera directly, instead focused on the screen but those rare moments where Angel actually looks into the camera, if even for a second it makes Ren breathless because it feels like angel’s looking at him.

- got this one from one of the little fics but whenever angel’s on call with someone, Ren loathes it. Because, they don’t like that angel’s paying so much attention to someone else, but on the other hand they’re close their phone. Talking to someone, laughing, making jokes and having conversation and if Ren tries really hard, they can pretend that angel’s having a conversation with him instead.

- Ren tries to time their eating schedule with Angels occasionally, unless he’s just trying to snack on something. Not JUST because they’d find it relaxing to eat with angel but because he doesn’t want to take time away from staring at angel just so they can eat, he’d prefer to train his body to get hungry when angel gets hungry so they don’t waste even a second of his time with angel

- for day 1; not inviting him over and then choosing to call/text him, you can hear them running away from (what’s presumably) angels door so angel doesn’t hear him talk/type, but they only leaves the SECOND angel calls or texts, not before. Now maybe he wasn’t expecting angel to contact him and was genuinely surprised, or, since angel was on call with Moth, (who was urging angel to talk to Ren…) they saw that angel then went on their phone and either looking at his contact or had the chat pulled up, so maybe he just didnt want to waste even a second not staring at angel. Though, maybe it was more of a mix of both

- His first meeting with angel in the library seeming so akward to angel while Rens brain is going a thousand mph. Mad that his first meeting with them wasn’t the perfect one they imagined, mad that he wasn’t prepared, scared you’ll see right through them BECAUSE he wasn’t prepared, nervous to finally be near angel and have them FINALLY talk to him, trying to come up with an excuse as to WHY he pressed the button in the first place (he did NOT read those pages nor that fucking book i am telling you now), trying to come up with any excuses to keep angel there with them for longer, how to stay with angel, to introduce himself, to hear angels voice more, restraining himself to not go completely haywire off the bat because first impressions matter SO much. Then the second you turn away and he gets eleanor out of the way they have to quickly dig in his pockets (or steal stickynotes from the library counter) to try and come up with something charming to write and have angel read to make them find him cute/approachable/not-fucked-up/your-exact-type

-ecords angels voice sometimes and tried to cut and put the clips together to spell something out for him in angels voice (momentary satisfaction but it’d never beat hearing angel actually say it) (most likely it was either their real name or “i love you” or something cheesy like that. maybe.)

- i know he’s not superstitious but the thought of them coming accross one of those posts of “These initials belong together!!” and NOT seeing his and angels initials in there making them mad is so funny lol. Bonus if he sees someone elses initials with angels (Say, A+L as in Angel and Leon). and they’d get mad and either X out everyone elses combinations and put only him and angels in it or search for one with them in it. He knows logically that it doesn’t mean anything and that it was probably just some kid making a fun video but god forbid having someone elses initials with Angels even with something silly like that

- they’d be one of those boyfriends that if angel as little as looks at something for more than a few seconds he’d ask if they’d want it, or just grab it and buy it right away, or remember it and buy it as a surprise for them later. Angel giving a quick second look at like a shirt or a toy and then continuing to walk and then the next day Ren’s giving it to them because he “thought they’d like it”. This alr kinda happens in game on day 2 but pshh they’d buy it for angel even if they didnt literally pause and stare at it for a minute and a half

- Angel forgetting a password to one of their accounts and complaining about it to Ren, who immediately tells them what it is, only for Angel to be like ??? wtf how’d you know. Or, if they weren’t completely caught up in staring at angel he’d comfort them and tell them that they’ll remember it soon. And then write it down for angel somewhere for them to find easily/ purposefully saying something that kinda sounds like it or would hopefully get angel to remember it, like. If the password was “iloveharuko13” he’d start talking about AOG with them, specifically about haruko’s last appearance

- Angel asking Ren how he’s been today when they’re catching up and him-not even thinking about what he was actually doing today just thinking about how happy they are now that angel’s here- just answering with “i’ve been good! how about you..?” very quickly because he’s eager to hear Angels thoughts. He already knows what they’ve been doing but how they FELT about it and their thoughts on it are much more interesting/important

- The reason he stares at angel so much aside from the obvious is that they’re trying with all his strength to develop mind reading powers /silly /not serious but he mightve actually at least tried this at one point no?

- Angel having a diary would be the equivalent of a bible to him. Its angels raw unfiltered thoughts written out BY them. That’s pure gold and god must’ve blessed Ren if angel decided to keep a “top secret” diary. (if angel complained about someone in said diary he’d keep an eye out for them specifically and try to limit angels interactions with them until they made up or parted ways. Or. something happened to them lol)

- idk i just wanna mention that i love their desperate attempts to just be around angel and have them see him. “Sweet boy”, i say, knowing fully well what he’s done and is capable of

- Occasional Angels cutlery thief. you know why (returns them though) (maybe)

- Him asking in their head over and over again “is this real? am i dreaming?” when angel actually invites him over to their place and what ensues because?? only in his dreams right???

- Ren was practically gritting his teeth when they said “what do you think i’ve been doing since you moved away…” at Leon, i don’t think he was angry because Leon moved (probably actually was really happy upon hearing it- maybe thinking “this is my chance! it’s my turn!”) but because the act of him moving made angel sad. It was more of a “how dare you do something that you knew would hurt angel” while secretly they were glad that Leon moved. another,, “loathe” kinda thing? Hates that angel was hurt but happy that Leon wouldn’t be as much in his way anymore?

- Purposefully sometimes leaves angels windows/doors open just so he could see them come closer to shut it. Very rare for them to do bc he doesn’t wanna make angel like,, paranoid (unless they’d be going to him for comfort and safety… but… maybe that’d only be if he’s really desperate…)

- Thinking abt if they’d ‘coincidentally’ show up on angels double date on day 4 or watch from afar. “haha how funny i didnt know you would be here… with……… them………….mind if i come with since i’m here anyway? haha? ^^” …and then him trying to pull angel away from the rest of the group (especially leon and teo ) so it can be another date with just angel and ren…? perhaps. will patiently wait to see

- I think this is alr canon but i’ll say it anyway; him learning angels favourite foods and learning exactly how to cook them. Yes, they could just order the food in through delivery like he does for himself but they want to impress angel and make it specially for them. I feel like the reason he had the pancake recipe STILL pulled up on their phone even though he was already at the very last step of cooking them was because he wanted to be absolutely certain that they were making them EXACTLY the way angel liked- trying to reference pictures for how they were cooked and plated even though he’s probably got them all memorized by heart- but he just wants to be sure.

- Ren stalks angel but in doing so he also stalks everyone close to angel, of course in completely different ways and completely different reasons but they’d nonetheless know a LOT about the people who angel surrounds themselves with; even without hacking into their belongings and finding every little thing about them (Incase he needs to use this infomation against them… or tell angel)

- ^ adding on that him watching angels friends have other friends and become friends with eachother would probably also be like,, something that makes them at least a little happy. In the way of “If they have eachother then they won’t be around angel as much ^^”

- Ren in absolute distress watching angel get sick BEFORE their meeting in the library. Wanting nothing more than to bend reality itself to make angel better and get them everything they need but knowing that they can’t do that yet. (He’d pray that angel wouldn’t notice that their waterbottle on the nightstand keeps “filling itself up”, some pain meds just “showing up” on said nightstand, the cold towel on their forehead being cold again once they woke up… uh, more… taking-care-of-sick-person-things that i’m forgetting rn…)

- Yk that funny thing you sometimes do when you look directly into the camera on your phone/laptop/ whatever youre on and you say sumn like “i know you’re watching me!!!” as a joke. Like the “fbi in my phone” joke. Yeah. imagine that.

- if angel was an artist and drew ren ( be that in secret or asking him to pose ) He’d probably act really flattered and be all smiles and secretly be running laps around his brain like there is smoke building at the top of their head. Angel, taking time out of their day to stare at Ren (or draw him from memory?) and draw him? HIM? As in. Specifically REN, not haruko??? Bonus if he WATCHES angel draw him, weither that be in secret or not, they’d see just how FOCUSED angel is and the effort they’re putting into drawing him. His heart would explode, probably. (Also if angel is staring at them? yeah. yeah.)

- Not enough people talk about how he was so puppy-eyed upset when Leon called angel “sunfish” right in front of them. Interrupting angel and everything. You could practically FEEL the “:(“ in his little “-sunfish?” and the next words out of their mouth were “-Angelfish and i-“ as if Ren was subtly CHALLENGING Leon and trying to compete with him. How dare he have a special petname just for them? As if Ren hasn’t been calling them ‘Angel’ for his whole life? Does Leon even KNOW what sunfish look like? ‘Angelfish’ is so much smarter and they’re prettier fish. It’s essentially insulting.

- When angel starts showing signs of liking Rens real personality he absolutely overthinks the hell out of it. Because, surely not?? That was just their hopeful thinking? Him hearing things, maybe??? I don’t think Ren would believe angel at first if they started showing interest in his real personality, have to convince him before they even think about it. After all, it’s his haruko persona that finally got your attention after 13 years. Surely you like that more than this freaky creepy emo guy. They’re practically opposites afterall

- Angel making any sort of comment about the future that involves Ren- be it in the next day, week or month, he’d be over the moon. You want to keep them around for that long, that you’re already planning it? Thinking about it? Including him in your daily life and schedule? It’d only further his belief that you are an angel

- Rens mumbling coming from the fact that he doesn’t socialize like at all, and is used to just saying things out loud to angel and talking to themselves. He mumbles and whispers things to himself a lot and i REALLY like that trait abt him, i do the exact same thing

- im sorry i wanna mention i really like his little angry face. Rens little furrowed brow and pout. It’s so perfect and he is NOT shy of using it every single time someone interrupts or even suggests taking angels attention. I pause and stare at them everytime he pulls that little “>:(“ face i adore it sm i love the art in this game.

- Already canon but this mans love for matching with Angel in any way is so fun. If you choose to dress in a “comfy” way they get all happy and like almost celebrate it. “Yes!! i knew you liked softer clothes! I was so right picking this outfit this will surely impress them and have their attention on me!”, in the same breath, if you choose to dress “alternatively”, Ren thinks you look very pretty but then they’re a little pouty that angel’s not matching with him, he specifically chose this outfit for angel and didn’t think they’d be wrong since he knows angel so well

holy god i did NOT just write that much… it just turned into rambling oops. i needa replay again and write more haha here i go

rlly hope i’m not just like horribly wrong about everything lol i CANNOT survive a “he would not fucking say that !!!”

thank you sai for creating Ren and showing him to the world with the rest o’ the crew. They are all so very dear to me 💗

[r3dmooon]

Picking up/Cuddling Headcanons — Wally Darling x gn! reader

summery: just some headcanons of reader picking up and cuddling Wally <3 (plus a bonus drabble at the end)

tw: tad creepy towards the last headcanon. Nothing too bad tho lol

a/n: alt title: Treating Wally Like my Cats

wc: 0.5k

Master List

❥I know this has been said like a billion times, but I’m adding my two cents to this. Wally is 3 ft. Which if you are an average height for a human, or even just one of Wally’s puppet pals (they tend to be taller than him), you have an advantage >:)

❥Feeling lonely or bored? Pick up Wally and cuddle him while reading or whatever hobby you have. He doesn’t mind. He just snuggles into you and accepts his fate. Besides, being held by you AND getting to stare at you? Sign him up.

❥There are so many positions you can pick him up. Whether it’s like a baby, like a football, hell even like a sack of potatoes! He doesn’t care. He’ll just go limp in your hold, accepting your affection like a touch starved cat. 

❥When cuddling, you might get a bit nervous about crushing him. I mean he’s so much smaller than you! Well…maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration…but the fear’s still there! Well throw those worries out, dear reader. 

❥Wally LOVES it when you hold him like a stuffed animal at night. Holding him close to your chest and snuggling into his hair. Which is down! So soft and it smells like apples. How fitting. 

❥But all these seems so one sided, doesn’t it? :( 

❥Don’t worry. When you're cuddling him either absent mindedly while working on something, or to drift off to sleep, Wally will return them. He enjoys being wrapped in your arms, and enveloped by your warmth. You’re just so snuggly and lovely! He’s gotta indulge himself a little bit. Besides, you're so welcoming of his affections! 

❥So he wraps his arms around you the best he can in your position. Snuggles into you from wherever he lays. Maybe humming a little tune or listening intently to what you’re saying.

❥When you two cuddle, he’s more relaxed. Letting his mind rest from t̶̺̳̗̯̠͗̇̒͌̚͝͠h̸̨̧͋͑̓͂ë̴̙͈̠̱̼̰̝̤͊̎̐͗̅́̕͜ ̵͇̠̗̝̞̗̯͌̉͜͝h̴͙̩͍̽̀̈́̐͘͠ͅo̴̡̰͍̯̠̝̪͙͓͊r̵̛̺̭͑̍̂̈̋͒̃͠r̸̻̂̈́̍̽͠o̴̧̨̲͓͓̮͖͙̼͒́̑̏̃͗͝͝r̴͎͙͒̀̔̀̔̑̐̂s̵͕͖̹͎̲͚̑͌̊̈̒́̍̚͘͠ͅ  the fun he’s had that day.

So he tends to be on the more quiet side. Just taking you in. He just loves you so much! He feels safe around you and makes it obvious. Not that he doesn’t trust his other friends! There’s just…certain things he has to be more aware about…

❥Bonus drabble below! ↓

I paused reading. The feeling of wanting affection swarmed me. The first person coming to mind is Wally. I got up and started my search for the puppet that reminded me a bit of a cat. Perhaps that’s why I feel so comfortable with the arrangement we had. 

I found him sitting under the shade of a tree. His gaze drifted from our friends over to me. I approached him and bent down. He seemed to understand what was going on and lifted his arms up. It was like clockwork, once I picked him up, he went limp against me. It was honestly fun carrying him. I mean he was as light as a feather! I replaced where he previously sat and settled down into a position that was comfortable for the both of us. Wally let out a hum of delight, eyes boring into the side of my head. I took out my book once more, and felt content with the world once more.

[cherry-muses]

tom riddle x gn! reader: oneshot

<a/n: oneshot after the image! haven't written in a while so i lowkey feel like this sucks. ps: sorry i disappeared for like 5 months lol i had to graduate. >

tags: mentions of a difficult childhood, orphanage, bullying, hurt/comfort, fluff

He was sat across you, writing his History of Magic essay with his ever-so-neat handwriting. The only sounds you could hear were those of his quill scratching the parchment and of you turning the pages of your Potions textbook.

As Riddle wrote, his other free hand rested on the table, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that he had really pretty hands. Your eyes subtly scanned them and eventually landed on the sleeve of his robes… which seemed to be a little torn and frayed at the edges.

You smiled to yourself, knowing the exact spell required to make the sleeve good as new… secretly hoping that Riddle would give you one of his rare smiles when you did. Perhaps it’d make the boring study session slightly more entertaining, and the rather bleak winter evening more colourful.

You tentatively reached your hand to gently hold his wrist, and gave him a soft smile. “I could fix that… may I?” You asked, gesturing to the torn sleeve.

To your surprise, Tom did not give you even the smallest smile. In fact, he flinched and harshly pulled his hand away, giving you an accusatory glare at the same time. “I’d much appreciate if you wouldn’t disturb me when I’m trying to work. And I know perfectly well to take care of my own clothing, thank you.”, he snapped. “I think I’d much rather spend my evening with someone who isn’t so dull and irritating to the core.”

“I didn’t mean-”, but you were rudely cut off mid-sentence by Riddle slamming his textbook shut, stuffing it into his satchel and storming off, out of the library.

You were left sitting alone in the library, feeling an odd mixture of guilt, anger, and confusion, holding back tears.

It was the next evening, when you were approached by the dark-haired prefect again. You had been reading by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room when he came up to you, fists clenched at his sides in nervousness. “What do you want, Riddle?”, you spoke, rather harshly, as you sat up straight to face him.

“I am… sorry.”, he replied, voice strained as if it was taking him a great deal of effort to get the words out.

You slammed your book shut, tossing it aside on the couch in annoyance. “I am sorry too.”, you replied, not a hint of emotion in your voice.

“You’re sorry?”, he asked, frowning in confusion.

“For assuming we're friends.”

For a split second a look of hurt flashed across his sharp features, until, ever the Slytherin, Riddle schooled his expression to appear vaguely sad.

“I should not have spoken in that way to you.”, he begins.

“No, you shouldn’t have.”, you retort.

You are both silent for a few moments, and the air has a sort of charged tension which makes you feel like either one of you would be storming off at any moment.

It comes as a bit of a surprise, then, when he instead chooses to sit close to you on the black couch, the water from the Great Lake casting a greenish glow upon the two of you.

“I really am sorry. I must admit, out of sheer habit I had assumed the worst intentions out of you.”

Those deep brown irises of his conveyed a kind of sincerity you had never before seen in him. You hoped to Merlin it was genuine.

“It is no excuse but I’d like to…er, explain why I behaved in such a way. Not justify, just explain.”, he said, a request for you to kindly hear him out implicit in his words. You somehow found yourself nodding, silently urging him to continue.

“You know where I grew up. I much prefer to hide it, but somehow your… constant affection has gently coerced me into entrusting to you the things I wish I could hide even from myself. ” He pauses, sighing and staring outside the dungeon windows, into the depths of the Great Lake.

“As would be expected, the orphanage wasn’t made of money. They could hardly feed us twice a day.” He was practically avoiding your eyes now. “My wardrobe essentially consisted of the worn clothes people donated. And, well.” A pause. “My first time on the Hogwarts express, a group of Ravenclaws found it a good enough excuse to remind me of my inferiority… and throw a couple of assorted hexes my way.”

Realization dawned on you, and at once you took his hand in yours, gently caressing his skin with your thumb. “Oh…”

“Well, since then I’ve managed to handle such issues with reparation spells, but I suppose I missed my robe’s sleeve. Which caught your attention yesterday. And… and when you tried to fix it, I just...”

You could bear it no more, and without any warning he was engulfed in a hug. “Tom, I’m so so sorry. I should’ve known.”

“No, it is my fault, for comparing you to someone who was been cruel to me, when you’ve always shown me nothing but the complete opposite.”, he breathed out softly.

There was a look of steely determination on your face now. “Promise me one thing, Riddle.”

“Hmm?”, he inquired, far too occupied with staring into your eyes to bother with actual words.

“Next time you feel like that, please… please just talk to me.”, you request. “I hate when we hurt each other in such a way.”

“Anything you ask.”, he says. You beam at him and gently kiss his forehead

The rest of the evening was spent cuddling on that couch, whispering sweet nothings to one another and watching the fish swim by in the lake.

[alwaysthefool]

Like lightning (x Jouno)

Tags/Synopsis: Jouno is scared of the extremely loud and close thunderstorm, comfort, gender neutral

Warnings: reader is a screw up*. again v personal, fear of thunder, loud noises description, cursing, you have symptoms of depression (lol)

You were something akin to a disgraced knight, and you shouldn’t have been allowed to be on any mission, let alone one with a hunting dog. This one, at least, should’ve been easy. You two simply had to stake out in the middle of nowhere, waiting to intercept a van, your own vehicle being hidden behind a few rocks.

You were technically just the driver, and maybe backup, but Jouno did not say anything to you on those lines, and you decided not to ask as you knew he preferred silence. Whatever, he probably has it under control already. You thought even though you did not know him outside his great reputation. You even kept a large distance, deciding to look out for the car at the other side of the road, where you knew it wouldn’t even be coming from. What you did see in the distance, however, were dark clouds approaching.

With a deep breath, mustering whatever confidence you had left, to walk over to him, trying to tiptoe as to not make any noise.

“What they say about you is true.” He stared directly at you, from at least 20 feet away. “You’re useless and sloppy. Was that an attempt at sneaking up on me? He raised his sword at you, closing a little of the distance.

You had heard those kind of words from everybody recently, so it did not affect you much. It was true, you were a mess, you ruined everything and there was nobody to blame. Neither your expressions, nor your heart faltered. There was nothing that could make you more disheartened. If anything, the only way up from that point in your life was up. “I think it’s about to rain.”

“You don’t say.” Jouno replied, a little disheveled and irritated. You could hear the thunder getting closer, the lightning flashes seemingly intense.

“You should watch out from the car, just to be safe.”

Jouno scoffed at that. “Do you think lightning will be able to do anything to me? I’m more durable than even rubber.”

“You’re still just human.” You murmured, stupidly hoping he did not hear your sleight. You thought your wish was answered as he did not respond to that, only telling you to go inside the car alone.

You did not realise when the clouds had come so close, until a lightning stroke struck downwards, meeting a tree not too far away from where you two stood, the light strong enough to make even Jouno flinch, and the thunder that followed within seconds making him hold on to your hand, cursing under his breath. Almost instinctively, you put your hand on his shoulder as a kind gesture, though you knew when he’d come out of the shock, he’d push you away with a nasty comment.

For some reason, he kept holding you, iron tight, his knuckles white, although it didn’t seem to hurt you.

“Hey.” You spoke softly.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jouno’s head was down, but you could still see his nervous expression from how tall he was.

Another flash of lightning struck between the overhead clouds, the sound a little lighter than before but enough to make Jouno cling to you a little closer. You too, held him close to you, realising he eventually turned the distance between you to into an intimate hug, his strong arms encapsulating your waist, his head on top of yours, and his hips as close to yours as they could get. You wondered if anyone had ever held anyone else closer than he was holding you.

“How-“ He flinched again when another stroke of lightning decided to strike on the open grass fields beside the road, not minding as your fingers found their way to his hair, taking off his cap and gently stroking his scalp. He breathed out in contentment, squeezing you a little tighter as if to tell you to continue. “How is your heartbeat so calm?”

You weren’t sure why either. You liked nature, and were used to loud sounds from machinery and weapons that littered your life. And it wasn’t like you cared that much about getting into dangerous situations. Whatever was meant to happen would happen, and there was no point resisting it. “Well, it’s much quieter than all the screams of my victims.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

To your surprise, Jouno did let out a soft exhale.

“You really should go inside the car, Jouno.” You reluctantly pulled away to look at him, his sweet face as confused as a dog who did not why he was not receiving pets any longer. He gently tried to tug you into a hug again, but you put your cool hands on his warm face. “Go, I’ll take care of this.”

“No, I want to hear your body. It’s the only thing that- well, I mean-“ His face turned completely red and hot, but he did not pull away from your touch. And maybe for the first time that day, there was irregularity in your heartbeat.

“Tell you what.” Your hands crept down from his face to his hands, which he immediately interlocked with yours. “You can have me for as long as you need after we’re done with this.”

“Oh?” His lips curled into a smirk, but faltered immediately with another nearby stroke of lightning. “Okay.” He obliged, but did not let your hands go. You smiled, a contortion of muscles that felt almost foreign to you, as you reached into your back pocket, his hand that still held yours following, pulling out your phone and earphones.

“You can listen to my playlist to drown out the sounds.”

His hand finally pulled away from yours, as he put your phone in his pocket. “Are you sure you’ll be fine out here alone?”

“I should be the one asking you that.” You retorted. Jouno smiled as he walked back to the car, faithful that the person who could stand their ground against the wrath of the sky would be able to deal with some crooks from nowhere easily.

—x—

*for immersion you can imagine your most recent screw up. lol

[ghostlynachopanda]

Envy

a/n: it got seriously cold again for no reason. this one was actually kind of fun to write lol. I tried to figure out something for Tumblr and it didn't work out. enjoy this one pals

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

words: 1.5k

~~~

You and Wednesday decided to hang out after classes today. You both agreed to meet at her dorm since Enid was out having a girls' night. Wednesday wouldn't tell you the amount of cleaning she did when she knew you were coming. Her side of the room was never messy, but she couldn't help but make sure everything was spotless spick, and span. Nonetheless, she was excited to see you again — even if it had only been a couple of hours since she last saw you.

Of course, you were excited too. The prospect of hanging out with Wednesday always makes your heart sing. You learned early she didn't like your attention elsewhere unless you were doing an activity together. That's why you hazardously rushed through all your homework. There was just one issue, doing that made you tired.

The walk to Wednesday's room was a familiar one, something you could do with your eyes closed. The echoes of your footsteps were unnaturally loud in the empty hallways. The particularly loud creak of that one step made you jolt. Either everything was super loud tonight or you were more tired than you thought.

Wednesday could hear you approaching the door. She had grown accustomed to the sounds of your footsteps long ago. Trying not to seem overexcited, she waited for your knock — a rhythm that was unique only to you. When the sound came she stood from her seat, taking a breath to calm her heart before walking to greet you.

Wednesday opened the door to find you slightly slouched and your eyelids drooped more than normal. Both of those things were quickly wiped away, and your facial expression showed one of joy when you caught sight of her. She'd never admit it, but seeing you so happy to see her made her heart beat a little faster.

She silently opened the door wider and stepped aside to let you in. If you noticed how clean her side of the room was you didn’t comment. You just stepped to the side and followed her to her desk and watched as she sit down on her chair. You eyed her for a moment before speaking,

"Have you started your writing time yet?"  

She watched as you took a seat on top of the desk, "No, I was planning on doing that once you left."

You nonchalantly hummed in response, eyeing her bed. The bed looked unnaturally comfortable so you ask, "What if you did your writing time now? I'm kind of tired so I could take a nap while you write?"

Wednesday took a moment to look at you before responding. Everything about your body language indicated you were tired. She thought for a moment — as long as you were in the same room it wouldn't matter.

"Sure, that's alright. Would you like different clothes to change into?"

"No, I should be alright. Thank you, though," you said, unintentionally disappointing her. She wanted to see you in her clothes, but she wouldn't ever say that.

You stood up from the desk and started walking towards the bed before you abruptly turned around, "I'm sorry, I forgot to ask if you wanted anything before I took a nap." you said quickly, walking back towards her.

She sent you a look before responding, "If I had wanted anything I would have said something. Now, go take your nap before I change my mind."

With that you slowly nodded, watching her start to pull out her typewriter and set everything up. When her movements are confined to doing things on top of the desk, you swoop down and place a quick kiss on the top of her head. You move back to the bed quickly, already out of arms reach when she whips her head up to face you.

"Why did you-"

"Goodnight, Wednesday!"

She watched you recklessly kick off your shoes, practically jump into her bed and make yourself comfortable. She watched as you wiggle around before finding a comfortable position before looking at her and sending her a sleepy smile. She thought you looked adorable curled up in her black comforter like that.

Wednesday shook her head slightly, wanting to get rid of any thoughts that contained you. It worked for a little bit, her writing went smoothly as you slept soundly on her bed. However, she couldn't stop herself from glancing at you periodically. Every time she looked at you she found it harder to get back to writing. She huffed and shook her head more aggressively this time.

 It lasted only a couple of minutes before she looked at you again. This time, you were curled around her pillow. You looked utterly content like that and Wednesday tried to shake the growing resentment towards the pillow. She couldn’t help but push the keys of her typewriter just a little harder when she looked away.

She glanced back at you one more time, hoping to see you pushed the pillow away. No such luck graced her, you were still curled around her pillow looking more peaceful than she's ever seen you. The bottom half of your face was hidden by the pillow held between your arms. Wednesday felt the desire to discard that pillow immediately. As much as she wanted to yank the pillow from your grasp, she was determined to finish her writing time.

Wednesday was hardly able to focus on her writing after that. Her thoughts are consumed by either yanking the pillow away or somehow making it suffer for being comfortable next to you. She moved her hands away from her typewriter once again and clenched her hands into fists. Mentally scolding herself for feeling envious of an inanimate object and for how childish the whole situation is.

When she looked at you again and decided enough was enough. She quickly stood and stomped over to you, who was blissfully unaware of the feelings festering within Wednesday. She stood by the bedside, giving you one more chance to relinquish hold of the pillow. Unfortunately, for the pair of you, you were still asleep. Your hold on the pillow didn’t loosen, forcing Wednesday into action.

Her eyes landed on your face; noticing the crease of your eyebrows was gone and watching your eyes move around behind your eyelids. You looked calm, tranquil even. She felt slightly guilty about what she was about to do until her eyes landed on the pillow. She reached out and yanked the pillow out of your grasp, waking you up in the process.

"Wha-" you started but got cut off.

"I'm throwing this away," Wednesday exclaimed, evidently angry about something.

"What? Why? What happened?" you asked quickly, alarmed by being jolted awake and still half asleep.

"This," she said, waving the pillow in front of your face, "is going in the garbage."

"Wait, Wednesday slow down," you said sleepily, sitting up to rub the sleep from your eyes, trying to wake yourself up faster. "Why are throwing the pillow away? It works fine,"

"It works a little too good," she mumbled looking at the pillow before tossing the offending object somewhere behind her.

"Why did you-"

"Shut up," she said while leaning down to take off her shoes, "if you are to hold anything while sleeping it will be me."

"huh"

"I will not repeat myself" she voiced, climbing into bed next to you — forcing you to make room for her on the bed. She laid down on her back, stiff as a board, and you waited for instructions on what to do next.

Wednesday realized then she hadn't had a plan, she just wanted that godforsaken pillow away from you. She glanced at you in her peripheral and mentally cursed herself — she needs to scold you for making her act so irrationally. She signals for you to move closer, feeling the bed dip slowly then feels your arms wrap around her arm.

The feeling of your arms wrapped around hers made her feel even more resentful toward the pillow. You could feel the anger rolling off of her in waves, so you maneuvered yourself to be able to wrap your arms around her torso.

Wednesday stiffened, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to calm you down," you replied sleepily, wanting to let Wednesday's warmth lull you back to sleep.

It went quiet after that. Both of you are seemingly content with the current situation. Wednesday was pleased you had your arms wrapped around her. You were almost asleep when she spoke up, "I am calm,"

"Liar," you whispered letting the sound of her heartbeat and warmth pull you to sleep.

She took you in, watching as your eyes closed and felt your breaths even out; signaling you were asleep for the night.

Her eyes made their way to the pillow on the floor, she scowled at it and unintentionally pulled you closer to her body. She let the feeling of your arms wrapped around her and your steady breaths lull her to sleep.

tags: @alexkolax @rainbow-love4ever @o638 @tundra1029 @greyscxle-is-taken

[kithtaehyung]

anytime (3tan) (m) | myg

title: anytime pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that  rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: your brother is finally back. which makes for a bunch of conflicting worries that you may need to address. warnings: angst, yoongi in general lol, lots of dialogue i’m so sorry, tae being a menace, yoongi on the phone, 3tan sibling scenes!!, thinking thinking, jimin being jimin, masturbation, dirty talk, sl*t mentions, did i say yoongi on the phone?, alcohol, house party, so many interactions, just… yoongi🥺 note: ah.. well. it’s finally here. thank you endlessly to @sugakookitty​​ for being the angel beta you are, and thank you all for being so patient and understanding as i worked on this while still recovering from the writing process of dalo! i know it’s been a minute, so. i worked like hell on this the past week. if you haven’t read any of the three tangerines series yet, i highly recommend reading those first! it will make so much more sense lol note 2: saving the rest of my thoughts for the end bc i have many! just enjoy :D  total word count: 16k+ release date: july 23rd, 2022, 2:17pm est 

-

-

Back to normal.

With the coming of one, singular sunrise, everything has gone back to normal. 

Curling your fingers into worn sheets, you stare unblinking at the space once occupied. At the way the material has bunched in frozen peaks and valleys, previously crinkled by passion and loudly unspoken feelings. 

Whatever transpired just hours ago will be imprinted on your soul forever. You may even wear it on your sleeve, if only to remind yourself that something shifted between the hours of suspense and shelter. 

Because Yoongi didn’t just let you into his place last night. 

He let you into his heart. 

Through his actions, his decisions, his words. All of them served as a door, his eyes the windows that couldn’t lie about what they contained. 

You don’t know much still. And you will come to deny a lot more. But one thing is for sure: since you stepped foot inside, you aren’t sure if you’re ready to leave just yet. 

Or ever. 

Fucking hell, your chest feels so hollow it’s a wonder you’re still functioning—

“Yoongi? What are you doing here?” 

Your eyes snap to your open doorway.

“Sup.”

What.

What.

Catapulting yourself out of bed, you’re already warring with yourself on whether to go out there or not. Because what the fuck is happening? 

Why is Yoongi still here?

You skid to a halt at your entryway, as if the edge of a cliff is millimeters from your toes.

It may as well be. You seem to be in freefall already.

Bits of conversation can be heard from where you stand, and you strain your ears to pick up every single word you can grab from down the hall.

“—happening?” 

“Relax. Something went down last night.” 

“What the fuck. Here?” 

“Dalo.” 

“The fuck happened? Why didn’t anyone—” 

“Jimin took care of it.” 

Your brows could kiss from being so close. 

What the hell is going on?

One, why is Yoongi talking so calmly? Two and three and four, why isn’t your brother as loud as you thought he’d be? 

“He was there, too?” 

“Yeah. But she’s okay. I’ll head out now.” 

Fuck fuck fuck your heart is already suffering from how you woke up. Because you never got a chance to say goodbye.

And now it’s gonna happen a second time? 

Do you step out? Do you stay there? Can you handle either one of those options?

Your feet are already moving on their own accord, oversized shirt slightly catching in the wind you make in your approach.

Wait, when did you even put clothes on? You don’t remember a single thing after…

Stop. You can’t worry about that now. Right at this moment, you just need to see him. 

Because you don’t know when you’ll get another chance.

Their voices are a lot clearer the closer you get to the main hallway.

“K. You good?” 

“What? Yeah.” 

“Okay. Thanks for looking out, dude. Fuck.” 

“No sweat. Apparently she didn’t even need us. Almost fought him herself.” 

You freeze midstep as your brother huffs a small sound. 

“That right?” 

“Yeah, Chim was saying something like that.” 

“Good to know. She could whoop my ass if she wanted to, honestly.” 

Yoongi’s hum of amusement is nothing but agreeable. “She should.” 

“Bitch. Outta my house.” 

They both laugh and start saying goodbye, which pulls your feet into the hall completely. Standing. Staring. Probably an absolute wreck but you don’t care. 

Yoongi’s shoulder taps your brother’s before he spots you, and you can tell that he didn’t expect you to be awake. 

All the oxygen is yanked from your lungs as his eyes still on your awaiting form, but you can’t do anything because you get another look and greeting,

“Morning!”

“Morning,” you croak, voice chipped and hollow. 

Eyes sliding back to Yoongi, you wanna say a lot more than that. But words are all competing against each other and clogging up your throat—because you can’t.

How do you thank someone for being so perfect? How do you show what you want to say without confessing something no one else present should hear? 

An entire glossary of terms jams inside your teeth, black letters staining your tongue. In the end, you settle with, 

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” 

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Your airway seizes. Ducts burn.

Don’t react. You cannot. No matter how hard your heart is clenching right now, you cannot make this seem like anything more than gratitude.

Despite it being so, enormously more than that. 

You nod, which Yoongi takes as a cue to regard your brother. “See ya.” 

“We’ll catch up later.” 

Your overnight guardian agrees with a nod of his own, and you wonder if he thought about looking at you one more time before departing, or didn’t think about it at all. 

When the door shuts, it’s like a switch that triggers you to spin around and head back to your—

“Hey, come here.”

Goddamn it. 

“Hold on,” you rush out as you back around a corner, palms rubbing your eyes before steeling your lack of any resolve. After seconds, you make your way back to the front.

Only to get crushed in a hug, arms encasing and smushing you into a fresh tee.

Because of what happened, because your heart is in halves, or because of your brother being the stupid, soft idiot he is sometimes, you don’t push him away. Maybe it’s all three and something extra. But you exhale deep, feet still, trying incredibly hard to not to show anymore tears.

“Sorry I wasn’t there.”

Brows pinched, you shift your head. “You would’ve gotten arrested.”

“Did you have a good time before that?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, at least.” 

Though the moment is needed, something feels odd. 

Normally, this would be the part where he goes back to his normal, judgmental, assumptive self. Something about “you were still there” or “you still could’ve avoided it somehow.” 

But he doesn’t say anything like that this time. 

What’s up with him? 

Breathing in, you smell his familiar cologne before asking, “Isn’t this the part where you yell at me.”

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed,” he admits before loosening his hold. “But nah, not at you.” 

“Good. Because I’ll just yell at you, too,” you sigh. After he scoffs, you extricate yourself and add, “If I wasn’t so tired.” 

“You okay, though?” 

“Yeah.” You step away and he lets you, and you use that opening to head into the kitchen. 

Do you feel like cooking? No. But it’ll be a good distraction. From how you feel, from last night, and from this already strange morning.

“You sure?”

Opening the fridge, you take some things out while repeating, “Yeah. Yoongi and Jimin were there.” 

“I heard.”

You set down all your items, moving to fetch a pan as your brother leans against a counter with his arms crossed. Interest somewhat piqued, you wonder why he’s burning holes into the perfectly fine tile. 

Why is he acting like this? Why hasn’t he even asked about Yoongi? 

“What were you wearing?”

“Excuse me?” 

There he is.

“Was it what you wore—”

“You know damn well what I wore doesn’t matter, so quit asking,” you bite, slamming the pan down a lot harder than you intended. Or just as hard.

Infuriating. Even though your brother is overprotective as fuck, he should know better than that. Wasn’t he just asking if you had fun? What did any of this have to do with your outfit?

“Shit, sorry,” he backtracks, face scrunched and a palm digging divots into his forehead. “I just—I’m jet lagged and pissed but you’re right.” 

After chucking some food scraps in the pan, the sizzles that spring forth serve as the only sounds in the kitchen. Hints of hot butter bloom around your cheeks, and you contain your need to aim daggers your brother’s way, knowing that his fuse should run out in due time. 

Both of your attitudes should change as soon as the meal is ready anyway.

Finally sparing him a glance, you notice that he’s still angry with the floor, cheek prodded in deep thought and brows set in a peculiar line.

Hmm. He could just be pissed this happened while he was out of town. 

But something still seems really weird. Odd. Like you have all the right pieces but they’re for a completely different puzzle.

Turning the burner low, you take a nearby electric kettle from its stand. “What’s up with you?”

Your sibling’s eyes follow as you fill the glass container. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Just tired.” 

“How about this,” you offer, back to setting the kettle down and starting it with a click. “I let you eat all the food, and you let me know the truth.”

“About what?”

The conversation you heard between him and Yoongi was way too suspicious. How did he not even flinch at Jimin being involved? Wouldn’t he question it just a tiny bit that both Yoongi and Jimin were with you? At a club, no less? 

Nothing makes sense. 

“About what’s on your mind,” you finally respond, voice heavy with exhaustion. 

It’s a wonder you’re even awake. The lingering effects of last night hang onto you like bricks, both from your body and from your overworked brain. 

Truthfully, you want nothing more but to sleep and forget about everything for the time being. “But if you really don’t wanna tell me, then whatever.” 

Your brother just watches as you divvy the food into two servings instead of one, bringing them to a familiar table backed against familiar windows. When you turn, the slight scrape of a chair follows as he sits at his usual spot, and it’s quiet as you pour some tea.

Just like you have every time he comes back from a trip. 

You don’t know when that started becoming tradition. But it has become instinct at this point. Just one of the few things you do as a family, whether it’s in the early, dewy hours of morning, or when even birds are fast asleep. 

Steam spirals from his cup as you set it down with a heavy clunk. Taking your usual spot adjacent to him, you scoot your chair in. Not particularly doing anything else. 

“Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.”

Neither of you move to eat. 

Work crawls just as slow as your mind does, with the sludge of all your thoughts and worries jamming its various gears. 

What do you do now? How are you supposed to feel after an unforgettable week you can’t get back?

You said yourself that things will go back to normal. But saying something is a hell of a lot easier than actually living it because you feel ridiculously incomplete. One check in the mirror would show that you’re all in one piece, sure. 

But on the inside? 

Your chest is both a lot heavier and a lot lighter than it used to be. Like a significant part of you has been replaced with solid stone.

How that’s possible, you can’t even begin to fathom.

Retreating to the bathrooms, you shut yourself in a stall and fish out your phone, staring at a lockscreen that shows no notifications that have your heartbeat skipping.

Can you even text him?

No, right? Yes? Maybe?

If he’s at work, he’d be way too busy to just text. But if you send something weighty, he may not respond to that, either. If he’s with your brother, that could result in a talk you don’t wanna have yet. 

Ugh.

Why is this even harder now! 

But Yoongi said he’d figure something out. Knowing him—because you’d like to think you do now, to some degree—he wouldn’t just say that for nothing. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it. 

Still… The mere notion of texting someone shouldn’t make you go through a mental maze. 

Squeezing your eyes in frustration, you decide to let your fingers write for you. 

Only to find out that they’re just as indecisive.

You [typing]: hi

You: 

You: 

You [typing]: hi old man

You: 

You: 

You [typing]: hey

You: 

You: 

You: 

Hearing someone come in, you click your phone shut, sighing before lugging your heavy heart back to work. 

And it’s the most un-Friday Friday you’ve ever been through.

“Door’s open!”

Upon entering Taehyung’s place, you’re immediately hit with the smell of bread.

Is he making his signature sandwiches? You would’ve asked him to make you one if you hadn't arrived with lunch. 

Have to repay him for his favor, after all.

Why does that feel so long ago?

Setting your bag on his couch, you catch sight of him in the kitchen a half-room over. “Hey, Tae. I’m paying up.”

Immediately, he whips his head around. After eyeing the bag you put on his coffee table, a dramatic groan sails out of his mouth. “Damn it.”

“What?”

He looks at you before observing something you can’t see. But it turns out that your assumptions were correct. “I just wasted a shit ton of jelly.”

A laugh escapes as you start taking out what you brought, paper bag obnoxiously loud. “Just leave it for dessert!” 

“Nope. It’s best fresh.”

You pause. “Then have that instead?”

“But I want your food now.”

Damn it, Taehyung. You massage your forehead out of necessity, knowing you will never fully understand this man’s brain. “Okay,” you relent. “Bring it over, I’ll eat it.”

Both of you settle onto his sofa after he grabs some plates. While searching for a movie, he runs through everything you told him on the way from work,

“So he took you back to his place.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Took you home.”

“Yeah.”

“And stayed.”

“…Yeah.”

“Well…” Your friend leans back, raking dark bangs away from his forehead. After a pause so long that it makes you nervous, he breaks, “Shit.”

“I know,” you sigh, staring at the small, weighty to-go rice in your hand. “He did so much.”

“I mean…” While you’re still stewing in contemplation, he hunches forward to grab a hefty portion of noodles. And when he continues, it’s nothing like you expect,

“Pretty sure that means he’s yours.” 

Fuck.

The box in your hand almost hits the floor. Heart beating in over-over-overdrive, you find it hard to process any coherent thoughts. “Be serious,” you shoot out, fingers tight around the container.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

“The bar was already low, mister fresh jelly.”

Taehyung simply turns to aim a smirk your way. “You’re the one that put it there, Missus Min.”

And he bursts into laughter when you hide your face behind the rice.

“Shut up, please,” you groan, earning even more hearty chuckles from your best friend. 

“No! You’re so gone, look at you!”

Sighing in a mix of embarrassment and pain, you set the box down and start gathering your own food. “It’s not like that, Tae. We’re not together, remember?”

The sound he makes is enough to show how convinced he is. “I’m not even the one in your situation and I’m swooning. How can you not see what’s happening?” 

“It’s not that I can’t.” 

“Then what?”

“It’s that I shouldn’t,” you whisper, moving stuff around your plate. “Even if we were a thing… we’d have to just sneak around. Like damn kids.”

While you’re wallowing in your own thoughts, Taehyung sits in silence, too. The movie he finally settled on rolls the beginning sequence, but neither of your gazes fall anywhere close to the screen.

After awhile, you hear him comment, “Sneaking around… Ah, that’ll break you.”

There’s a weight attached to his words, and your eyes can’t help but follow them to the floor. 

Why does it feel like he’s talking to more than just you? He’s been acting pretty shady the past week. Or is that just you projecting your own sneaky behavior?

Well. Inconspicuous or not, it’s not going great.

Exhaling, you slowly admit, “Jimin already knows.”

Taehyung’s sudden stare makes you wince.

“I don’t know how,” you sigh onto your food. “But that night, Yoongi just said that he knows. I don’t know how the fuck that happened unless he said something, but. I also don’t see why he’d do that.”

“Umm.”

You turn.

“That’s on me.”

“What?” Completely thrown, your jaw unhinges from betrayal. “You told him? You snitched?”

“No! No.” In his haste to placate, Taehyung bites his lip and sighs, hand patting the sofa in defeat. “Not exactly.”

“Then how…”

“He was here. The night Reia called me.” He claws through his hair, a little rougher than last time. As his bangs sway forward in rebellious waves, you wonder if there’s more to the story he tells. “When I had to cover for you.”

“Oh.”

“It was weird. He was actually flipping out when they said you weren’t responding.”

Wait. Jimin? Why the hell would he do that? If anything, you’d think he would just sit around and watch everything unfold with amusement. “What the? Why?”

“I dunno. I was obviously dealing with a lot so I didn’t really process, but. After I hung up, he kept asking me where you were.” He shrugs. “So I told him where you could be.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much, actually. He looked… Fine? Then obviously he connected the dots, so. Pretty sure he suspects at least something now.” He inspects his nails before choosing one to bite, a habit he still hasn’t grown out of. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you quickly assure, wondering what any and all of this could mean. While some things make sense now, there’s even more questions coming to the forefront. “I’m just confused.”

“Same.”

Why did Jimin react like that? Why did he question Tae where you were? It makes practically zero sense, just like his little tease before the intramural game.

Now you really need to know what the fuck happened there. If you get the opportunity to find out, you’re not letting it escape. 

But first…

You flash a smug look at your best friend.

“So… Jimin, huh?”

And he stops biting to aim big eyes your way. Then forward. 

“It’s complicated.”

You:

You:

You [typing]: thank you

You:

You:

You:

You:

“Oh, my god, hi!” 

“Hey, Yuri,” you sigh into your phone. As you drop your bag onto your bedroom floor, you apologize, “Sorry I didn’t answer earlier.” 

Her voice is enough to penetrate through your other ear, so you set the device on speaker before tossing it on your comforter. 

“No worries! Just wanted to check on you.” 

Comfy clothes. You need to be in comfortable clothes as quick as possible. As much as you love Taehyung, his insistence that you come straight from work meant prolonging your discomfort. 

You shuck your work garments off while halfway responding, “I’m fine.” 

“Okay… You don’t really sound like it, though.” 

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh again, pulling a tee over your head. 

You still haven’t gotten anything from Yoongi. There’s barely any fight in your bones right now. “But it’s whatever.” 

“I’m sorry. Did something happen last night? Do you wanna talk about it?”

Classic Yuri with the onslaught of questions. Always wanting to kn—

Wait. 

What did she ask?

Jimin didn’t tell them?

Huh.

You just figured he said what went down before rallying them to leave Dalo. The fact that he didn’t say anything strikes you as a little out of character. 

Well. Now paired with what Tae mentioned… Maybe something should make sense here.

“Babe? I’m so sorry if I’m being annoying.” 

“Oh, fuck, my bad,” you rush out. “You aren’t. I just thought you all knew.” 

“Well, maybe they know. I was just way too drunk.” 

“Ah, yeah.” A chuckle leaves your mouth. “Damn, you were gone gone.” 

She elongates her agreement before adding a bit of explanation,

“It’s all Rohan’s fault.” 

Exaggerating a sigh, you shake your head as you flop onto your bed. “Do I need to draw swords?”

Her laugh always reminds you of bubbles. Pretty bubbles that fill grassy backyards and playgrounds with pops of delicate rainbows.

“No, I’m kidding. He actually… Umm. He asked me out.”

“What!” Air rushes around you as you shoot up on your elbow, moving to change the call into a videocall instead. 

Another laugh erupts before the call is switched, and you stare right into Yuri’s frustratingly perfect skin as she’s walking down a hallway. “Bitch!” you yell. “When!” 

“Wait, hold on.” Her smile is all you see until she enters a room, and the movements make it through your phone before she answers, “Earlier today!” 

“How?” You’re so delighted that your smile is genuine, ears perked and ready to hear every little thing about how this all happened. “What did you say?” 

“I didn’t think you’d be this invested,” she giggles before sitting on her bed. Propping her phone on what you think is a pillow—or one of her many plushies—she fixes her hair while continuing, “You usually just tolerate stuff like this.” 

“I mean,” you stutter, realizing that she’s right. You never truly bought into all the mushy stuff since your experience with relationships isn’t exactly sunshine. Rainbows? Yeah. But not much sunshine. 

Not until recently, at least. “True, but. I really am happy for you.” 

“Thank you,” she squeals, expression a mix of gratitude and delight. You can tell she wanted to talk about it but held back, which makes her storytelling even more special. “It just— I was so surprised! He took me to this super fancy place, right? And then he even bought me a ring—”

“A ring? When’s the wedding?”

“Okay, I flipped out at it, too, but! He said he just really wanted to get it for me.” 

“Damn.” Your curve is warm. “That’s fucking cute.” 

“I hate him actually,” she whispers, to which you chuckle at while feeling like your chest has suddenly caved in. “Maybe your little mystery man will do something, too!” 

And an overwhelming feeling of sadness swallows you whole. 

“Maybe,” you murmur, heart slowly bleeding out of the cracks Tae warned you about. “Maybe.” 

“Oh, I’m also inviting everyone over tomorrow. Can you come?” 

“Yeah, that sounds—” You stop when you hear the front opening, and your brother’s voice is distinguishable even through your bedroom door. 

Looking at the time to see how many hours you have left to wallow in suffering, you sulk after you count. Desperate and slightly melancholy, you ask, “Actually, can I just come over now?” 

“And spend the night? Duh!” Yuri gets up and goes out of frame, but you can still hear her. “Mom’ll be happy to see you again. And she’s been making mandu all day, so. Hope you’re hungry.”

You could cry.

Dumplings?

Comfort food is exactly what you need right now.

“Starving,” you manage through a half-smile. “I can leave whenever.”

“Then hurry up!” She finally reappears in the frame with more casual clothes, and you wonder if you caught her just as she was coming home from her date. “We aren’t done talking about mystery man. I have so many questions.”

You fake a groan, brain churning with mixed emotions. 

Of course you wanna scream about him from multiple rooftops. But you also just yearn to talk about him openly at all, and the fact that you can’t has you shutting yourself in a proverbial basement. 

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce anyway—as usual. “Be there soon.” 

After you both end the call, it doesn’t take you too long to pack. You don’t necessarily need to change, either, so you’re vacating your room in no time. 

Voices spill into the hallway as you make your way to the door.

“Going to—”

Stopping in your strides, your bag swings into your thigh while you count four pairs of eyes. Two of them you recognize as people in your brother’s friend circle, and one of them…

Mystery man himself.

“Oh. Hi, guys.” 

They all greet you in varying volumes, with Yoongi simply throwing a look over his shoulder from his seat on the couch. 

How the fuck does he look better each time you see him?

Turning to your brother—definitely not to stare too hard at someone else in the room—you announce, “I’m staying at Yuri’s.”

“K. You eat yet?”

Your hand connects with the doorknob but your shoulders spring up in excitement. “No, but her mom’s making mandu,” you giddily respond, stretching out the ending syllable in singsong. 

One of the guys shouts from his chair, “Hey, bring some back!”

“No!” You laugh as your brother does, because he already knows what you’re gonna say. “I never share dumplings.”

“It’s true.”

“Dumplings sound good as fuck.”

“Why do you think I want some?”

“Okay, I’m really leaving now,” you huff through a smile before sparing one last glance at Yoongi.

And the slight, upward lift of his mouth makes your pulse jump. 

Good sign. That’s a good sign, right?

You really hope they don’t notice how incredibly shy you become. “Have fun.”

“See ya!”

“Bye!”

“Later!”

With their goodbyes on your ankles, you head out the door, exhaling like you just ran a marathon.

The night at Yuri’s is refreshing, with her mom doting on you and having you eat until you can’t move from the dining table. After a comforting, talkative meal, you’re able to speak somewhat freely about things in the plush castle that Yuri calls her bed. 

You tell her what happened at Dalo, to which she hugs you tight enough to squeeze out some tears. And you tell her about your so-called mystery man, if only to bring her out of the sad funk your scare put her in. 

And with each wholesome scenario, you see her perk back up to normal. There’s still some lingering pity and understanding in her eyes—understandable and relatable—so you decide to tell her more than you initially intended.

Remembering everything the two of you did together, though, it’s no wonder you feel a vast emptiness in your chest. Whatever happened during this week will be remembered for years and, even if that is all you get with Yoongi, it can be enough. More than enough.

Or can it?

An outright squeal causes you to retreat into your shell. “You’re so in love!”

“Shh!” 

“What! You totally are.”

Covering your entire face with one of Yuri’s plushies, your muffled reminder is the same you gave Taehyung, “We aren’t even a thing.”

“Yeah, right. You’re practically married.”

The stuffed hamster quickly ends up in her face. 

Giggling, she clutches it in her arms while being downright ridiculous. “I bet you even picture yourself having his kids.”

What? 

Your mind fizzes, bubbling with a million scenarios you hadn’t even thought of yet and all of them are giving you grief.

Could you really? Something like that? Why is the answer already solidifying in your mind? 

You’re so caught up in Yuri’s earlier statement that the next one almost goes unheard. 

“Mystery guy would do anything for you. And I don’t blame him at all.” She runs a couple fingers through her hair, eyes viewing stars beyond her canopy. “He probably would’ve lost his shit if he saw—”

Her pause ends when she turns your way. “Oh, crap. Sorry if—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “You’re probably right.”

“Sorry. I’m still upset just thinking about it. I would’ve lost my shit, too.” 

“Jimin was there. As far as mystery man, I dunno.” You readjust yourself on your side to face her, but your eyes stay glued to her sheets. “All my exes moved on pretty damn quick, so. Who’s to say he won’t.”

“Probably him.”

It’s so spot on that your breath catches in your throat. 

How are things so obvious to her? Are they this obvious to everyone else and you’re simply the only one blocking yourself from what’s really going on?

This is some mental punishment for consistently being told or shown you’re not worth someone’s time, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

Why the fuck do all your exes get this much power over you?

Voice tiny, you finally whisper, “If you say so.” You go to grab another plushie, hugging it and finding comfort in its fluff. “I’m just still unsure about the whole thing.”

“I was, too. But… Rohan saying something first made me realize that I could’ve done the same. And we probably would’ve been happier a lot sooner.” 

“Why didn’t you before again? He’s older or something?”

Yuri sighs before brushing nonexistent hair on her plush. “Mm, that was part of it. Really, I was just worried people wouldn’t, umm. Accept him? I guess?” 

As she laughs to herself, she doesn’t see the look on your face. “But honestly… Who really cares, anyway? He’s a good guy. And why should I care, you know?”

If only you were as strong. You feel like you’re witnessing a champion, cheering Yuri on from the sidelines as she overcomes all obstacles to break the final ribbon. 

Because she’s gone through shit similar to yours. So to see her conquer her past makes your future just a bit brighter. “I’m happy for y’all.”

“Thanks!” She grins, adorably puffing her cheeks on her beloved hamster. “I’m rooting for you both, too.”

Swallowing, you only nod, not a single word daring to run out of your mouth. 

Can you also do it, though? Make it to your own finish line? 

Maybe. 

But you don’t even know if you have one yet. 

You:

You [typing]: i

You:

You:

You:

You [typing]: sgskgskdl 

You:

You:

You:

The neighborhoods in your town haven’t changed much. 

Aside from the trees being taller, almost everything else is the same. Cracks still residing in the same sidewalks; kids still riding the same bikes; one random elderly on their front porch still eyeing everything with suspicion.

Even the people seem to have stayed. You still recognize a good amount of them as you and your friends currently traverse down one of the worn, sunny sidewalks. 

While Reia and Yuri laugh about something together up ahead, you and Dom lag behind to people watch.  

“Mm, there goes Missus Gata again.” 

“Is it really still Missus?”

“It is. But are you surprised?”

“No.” 

Both of you politely raise your arms in greeting, watching as the older lady moves on to water another rosebush. 

From your friend’s hard angles and posture, you can tell that she isn’t done with you after your alarming confession to her and Reia. After they arrived at Yuri’s, it wasn’t long before you were told to let them know what happened, since apparently they weren’t briefed on it, either. 

But you don’t expect her to talk about it so soon—and in broad daylight.

“So that really happened? At Dalo?”

“Yeah.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I am not.”

Though her mouth forms shapes, she doesn’t offer anything else, shaking her head and biting her lip instead.  

You use the heated pause to point out, “I’m just shocked Jimin didn’t say anything.”

“Honestly? I’m a little glad he didn’t. Because I would’ve hunted that motherfucker down.”

“Hey!” 

The two of you look ahead to see Yuri wave before pointing, and you follow her hand to one of the small playgrounds dotting the area. 

It seems even that area hasn’t changed. You still see the familiar swing set, jungle gym, and seesaw taking residence there. 

Since it’s currently vacant, all four of you walk up to different structures, with Reia and Yuri taking the swings and you and Dom the central climbing gym.

Heart heavy, you wonder if you can say what’s been plaguing your mind since yesterday. The others are far enough away to not hear what you’re about to disclose, right? And Dom would know to keep it down.

But is outside really the right place for something like this?

You make a decision as your friend steps onto the first couple platforms. Feet planted, you squint up and admit,

“That wasn’t everything that happened.” 

Immediately, Dominique turns to face you, brows scrunched in waiting.

Huffing, you grab onto a pole to lift yourself onto the steps. The metal is warm instead of scorching hot, and you briefly wonder if the paint is new. 

Focusing, you continue as you follow Dom up to the top level of the gym, “He took me back to his place. Made sure I was good.”

“Mm. How’d that go.”

Over the creaks of swings and loud laughter, you give your friend a rundown of how the night went. How Yoongi never left your side until you said it was okay; how he told you it wasn’t your fault; how he drove you home and surprisingly stayed the whole night. 

You leave out the more intimate parts, but Dom is still rooted in her opinion.

“What did I tell you? It’s far from over.”

Looking down at the rest of the playground, you lean on a bright railing and sigh, “He hasn’t said anything since he left.”

“Have you?”

You wince. “…No.”

A snort pings off your shoulder, and you watch as Dom joins you, looking at the others with sun-narrowed eyes. “Well. I’m no expert on his type, but. I don’t think he’s gonna say anything until you do.”

Your lips purse as you agree in silence. That’s what you’ve been thinking was the case, which makes your indecisiveness even harder to deal with.

And yet, you still haven’t gotten rid of the little devil wedged deep inside your ear. “But what if he’s just… I dunno, moved on already?”

“Oh, come on. Really?”

“Fuck, okay. Fine,” you easily bow out, knowing your doubts are getting less and less traction. Things are finally starting to sink in, especially after Dalo—and your conversations from yesterday. 

Pushing off the metal, you grip it until heat permeates your palms. “But it’s complicated. Like, I know there’s something there. But I also don’t get it, you know?”

“Oh, you get it. You just don’t want to. Cus you’re scared of what it really is.”

“Maybe,” you muse, leaning forward again as a merciful cloud blocks the Sun. “But. It’s not like anything can happen anyway.”

“Why not? Look at me and tell me why you both can’t just date already.” 

You freeze, the words said aloud enough to ignite your entire body. A brief skip or two punctures your chest, and you feel every limb liquifying into mush all at once. 

Finish line. Is that your finish line?

But no one else is in your situation. So no one else would understand why your course is a bit more complicated than others.

Turning, you nudge your chin into the crook of your elbow. “Because… Well, what if it doesn’t work out? What if there’s a fallout and my brother gets involved?” Sorrow overpowers hope on your tongue as you avert your gaze. “I don’t want them to suffer because of me.”

“What if it does work out? What if everything is completely fine?”

You flash your eyes back upward.

Dom sighs before she crosses her forearms. “Listen. I’m gonna need you to fight that stubborn ass head of yours and think about this for a second. Yeah, it could be messy. But is that enough to stop you from trying?”

Well. Your head is undoubtedly stubborn. 

But it’s even more difficult when it goes by precedence. 

“All my exes have been messy. I don’t want to do that to him, too. What if it’s me?” 

Your deprecation is knocked off the climbing gym by a scoff. “What? Girl. What are you even saying? That dude blew off the entire neighborhood. For you.”

“Dom, please,” you beg as she straightens. “I don’t—”

“Do you miss him?”

“What?”

“Don’t what me. Do you miss him.”

Your eyes once again find the playground floor, drifting over to the untouched seesaw.

If only your mind was that still. 

Sighing, you answer, “Yeah.”

“Exactly. And it’s been, what, two days?” You hear nails tap the railing in fed up metallic pings. “How would it feel if it was a month? Fuck it, a year? What then?”

“I’d…” You let your answer fade, not knowing how it was going to end anyway.

Because before, you were completely okay not hearing about Yoongi for months at a time. Seeing him once while back home was just a passing event—albeit a handsome one—so the time between didn’t really affect you. 

But now?

Thinking about that same scenario feels like how agony must taste. No matter how many times you swallow, you can’t seem to get the suffering out of your mouth. 

So you readily admit, “It would hurt so fucking much.”

“Exactly. And I bet you everything that he would feel the same.”

Dom leaves your high perch after that, and you lift your head before clanging after her to another section of the structure. “He hasn’t even said anything, though.”

“Neither have you! Both of you haven’t.” When she comes to the edge of a sturdy bridge, she looks over her shoulder to add, “At least he has an excuse.”

While you join her on the blocks, you ask what she means.

“He probably doesn’t want your brother catching on or something.” Finding a spot to settle in the very middle, the two of you lean on the rails to watch cars drive past a ways away. “I hate this whole let-them-talk-first shit he’s pulling, but. It kinda makes sense this time.”

Not encased by towers, it’s easier for your voices to get lost in the open summer air. Your mind seems to clear a bit, too, if only to be a little more accepting. 

Because Dominique’s argument has made the most sense thus far. “What do I even say?”

“I dunno. Hi? I miss you? I love you and I’m an idiot?”

And the amount of sense plummets to zero. “Dom!”

“What? I’m right!”

Tripped up by a new phrase that has your heart gasping, you think the bridge is swaying a lot more than it truly is. Swaying, rocking, twisting, looping. You may as well be on a rollercoaster with the array of emotions you feel spiraling across your veins. 

Nope. There’s no way. 

You brace yourself and think about more concrete things. Concepts that you can grasp in the present. 

And suddenly, texting Yoongi doesn’t sound difficult after all. 

“I could just say hi and see what happens.”

Your logical friend turns to look at you before providing more advice, “Don’t overthink this. Just initiate. Every other time, he better commit.” 

A smile finally graces your face as you softly nudge her with an elbow. “Look at you,” you joke. “You warming up to him?”

“I never said that.”

Her laugh joins yours after a second, and the calm silence that follows reminds you of every summer you’ve ever lived.  

When the curve of your grin starts to fade, Dom’s voice floats on the breeze once again. “Look. All I’m saying is… He makes you happier than I’ve ever seen you. And I think that’s cus he makes you happy with yourself.”

Well. 

Fuck. 

Your mouth sets into a bittersweet line, feelings threatening the corners of your eyes. As an impossible memory of another playground comes to mind, you sigh, “He does, Dom.”

She slings an arm around you, tone even more airy and fleeting. “What can I say? I’m always right.”

“Almost always,” you correct, happy to defend Yoongi just as your friend did minutes prior. “Since he isn’t the same as you thought.”

“Y’all! Let’s get ice cream!”

Both you and Dom peer down from your perch before she yells, “Don’t have to tell me twice!”

Voice soft, she whispers to your unsuspecting friends below.

“With you? Yeah.”

You look her way.

“So what does that tell you?”

You [typing]: hey

You: 

You:

You [typing]: how’ve you been?

You: 

You:

You:

You:

You:

You:

You [7:17pm]: hi

After a fun but tiring weekend, you make the trip back home to your brother settling onto the couch. 

Shucking your bag off, you take out a plastic baggie filled with frozen dumplings that you got sent home with. Because no matter how profusely you refused, your stubbornness is no match for a mom’s insistence.

Your sibling throws a look over the sofa. “Damn, how many are in there?”

“I dunno but they’re all for me!”

He laughs before turning back to face the TV, head shaking at your unwavering selfishness. “Well, save those for later. I got food.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was gonna.”

In minutes, your prized possessions fill the freezer and your stuff occupies your room. 

A movie you vaguely remember from childhood is on, but your attention isn’t too focused on it as you grab a plate. Instead, you find yourself staring at your lock screen, conveniently hidden from sight by your thigh. 

No messages.

This really is so much harder. 

“How’ve you been?”

“Ehh, good,” you respond at your untouched meal. “I have an interview soon.” 

He munches while staying fixated on the television. “Oh, yeah? Where at?”

“Downtown.” 

“Damn, nice.” Scarfing down another bite, he continues, “I was wondering if you were gonna go for another gig.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, pushing your food in various directions. Even though it smells delicious and inviting, anxiety about the upcoming interview sinks its talons in your brain. It being a Sunday certainly doesn’t help, either. “I’m just ready for a change. At least you’re smart and found a sick job right out of school.” 

You wish you could be like your brother: successful, uncompromising, also seemingly lucky. To see him finding success at every turn makes you feel unaccomplished, despite having a good amount of achievements yourself. 

He just seems more driven than you. While it’s admirable, it’s also slightly demotivating. Because you feel like you won’t ever reach that same potential. Like an ink stamp of his persona—never fully transferred. 

“I mean, that’s a way to sum it up, but.” He sets his food on his lap, suddenly quiet. “Not really how I saw it.” 

You watch as he adjusts the watch on his wrist, admiring its craftsmanship with a determined stare. “I knew I had to support us somehow. Couldn’t settle for just anything.” 

“I know.”

There he goes again, shouldering everything himself. No matter how much he’s done or how hard he’s worked, he never holds his efforts over your head. 

Truly, the only glaring fault he has is his protectiveness, which even then is hard to argue with considering the circumstances. 

He just needs to know he shouldn’t worry so much.

“And honestly, the pay raise was the only reason I took that promotion. The travel is nice, but…” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” You set your plate down on the coffee table, fully deciding to not eat just yet. “I’m an adult, you know. Survived being away for school, right?” 

“Yeah. But… I just. I feel sick thinking about what happened.” 

“Well. So do I.” You rest your elbows on your knees, eyes burning into the ground. “But I’m here. Yoongi and Jimin… Even if they weren’t there, I would’ve found a way out.”

“What happened anyway?”

“Umm.” You swallow. One would think a story like this should be easy to tell on the third go. But not for you. “All I remember is Jimin getting me after I shook the guy off. Then Yoongi… He brought me home.” 

Trying not to show emotion at a time where your heart isn’t quite operating should be an Olympic sport. You can feel its heavy thumps with every syllable as you finally continue, “And stayed until you got here. Apparently.” 

For a moment, only the movie fills the living room with sound. Both of you sit in weighty silence as ponderous as your thoughts. Thinking, wondering, contemplating.

It’s him that breaks first. “I owe them.” 

“Same.” 

“They could've told me, though.” 

You disagree, looking at the floor and checking your phone in the process. “And had you flipping shit, boarding the next flight for nothing? We were fine.” 

“But what if you weren’t? You know I’d do that shit for real if I had to.” 

“I know.” 

“I got you.” 

When you look up, you find your brother glaring straight through the screen. He’s clearly still bothered. But shouldn’t he just be happy that you’re okay? 

You still don’t know why he hasn’t said a single thing about Yoongi being here. 

Maybe… Just maybe—

You finally remember something. Something that had you raising your brows for a short period of time. Wondering what that could be about, you bring it up, “You said to call Yoongi, too. If I needed anything.” 

That seems to snap him out of whatever headspace he was in. Turning to you, he asks, “I said that?” 

“Yeah. Before you left.” 

“Huh.” You watch as he looks down with furrowed brows. “Yeah, well. He’s my brother, so. Makes sense.” 

Of course. They’re thick as thieves, him and Yoongi. He’s called him his brother multiple times before. 

But it pricks the side of your heart just a bit this time. 

“Speaking of that fucker, I feel like he’s seeing someone.”

You freeze, never having sweat accumulate so fast in your goddamn life. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s weird. He’s been quieter than usual. Just sucked into his phone.”

…His phone? 

“Oh,” you croak before clearing your throat.

What the hell do you say? How would you respond to this conversation normally, let alone having an inside scoop? It’s borderline awkward.

“I mean, he could be busy with work?”

“True. But I usually know if he’s serious with anyone. And he kept dipping out early this whole weekend.” He starts gathering his trash from the table before pausing. “Wait, you know where he works?”

Coughing again, you pivot, ignoring his weird look. “I meant, in general. I assume he’s a contributing member of society.”

Your brother just furrows his brows once before continuing his cleaning. “Yeah, he’s working on big shit, that’s for sure.” As he passes to throw his garbage away, you pick your phone up to flip it over. “Speaking of, I’m hosting another party here on Friday.” 

Confused, your stare pins onto his back. “Seriously? Didn’t you just have people over last Friday?”

“It’s summer? And I have things called friends?”

“Can’t Jimin host?”

“Nah, his parents are back until next month,” he explains before chucking everything in your kitchen bin. 

“Oh.”

“But, what I was gonna say was,” he smiles, walking back to the coffee table to grab his phone. “You’ll wanna be here for this one.” 

“…Why?”

Wiggling his device at you, he vaguely responds with a mysterious, “You’ll see.”

You sigh, hoping it’s not just another excuse for you to stay home and cook. That’s what usually happens during big house parties at your place. 

Well, the few times that weren’t outside cookouts. With a quick thought, you remember that it was usually Yoongi that grilled during those. “Okay… Can my friends come, too?”

“Yeah! I don’t care. A lot of people’ll be here.”

“K.”

“Eat.”

You end up not doing that, instead getting up to go to your room. There’s simply too much on your mind, from your interview to a certain person that you can’t shake off. 

Hearing your brother talking about work didn’t help, either. You wanna be able to help financially, even if he never expressly asks. If you manage to snag this interview, it’s possible that you can start contributing. 

“Hey, listen.”

You turn. “Huh?”

Filling the middle of the hall, he seems to be in the same deep pit of thoughts as before. “There’s something you should know.”

“About what?”

“About th—”

A knock on the front door causes you both to flinch. Eyeing your sibling, you watch as he goes to open it after offering, “I’ll tell you later.”

You furrow your brows but wait to see who knocked, tensing when you hear who your brother welcomes in.

“Hey.”

“Sup.”

What the hell.

This is the second time Yoongi’s appeared at your house—two more times than the amount of chances you’ve spoken to each other since Friday morning.

But you can’t act weird around him. Last time was almost bad enough. So while the door closes, you only ask them out of curiosity and nothing else, “What are y’all about to do?”

As Yoongi looks right at you, your sibling replies—way too nonchalantly, “Got people coming over soon.”

“Tonight, too?” Why! Since when was your house the hottest one on the block? Did they always go this hard while you were away?

You check your phone while commenting the obvious, “It’s Sunday!”

Undeterred, the boys move into the living room, and you trail after them as your brother asks, “And? It’s not like you have school tomorrow or some shit.”

“I work? And so do you?” 

“Relax. It’ll be chill this time.”

You have no damn clue what chill means to him, but if people are already coming then you can’t exactly argue anymore. 

Plus. Yoongi’s here now—which, quite frankly, is already making you feel better. 

It’s magical, really. How he’s able to make you feel more at home in your own house. 

Eyes rolled, you find compromise, “Fine. At least lemme make something so I can eat in my room in peace.” 

“Uh uh, you just made a plate!” 

“I don’t want that.”

“Wow.”

You dismiss him with a flick of your wrist. “I’ll put it in the fridge, don’t worry.” 

“Whatever. Hurry up and cook then. They’ll mooch.”

“Of course they will,” you scoff, already walking into the kitchen. “Crackheads.” 

You finally hear a small huff of amusement, and your mood perks from that one, comforting sound alone. 

God, you miss hearing that as often as possible. Which was strangely a lot, considering it’s Yoongi. 

How long has it been? A mere two days? 

According to your heart, it’s been weeks. 

Maybe that’s why you aren’t afraid to address the both of them when you ask over running water, “Actually, can I get a little help?”

Yoongi lifts his head to regard you immediately, while your brother cranes his neck from beside him. “Really?”

“Uhh, yes? Y’all would get some, too.” Catching sight of Yoongi’s expression, you think you see something in his eyes. Something unexplainable, but yet so, strangely familiar. 

It’s almost enough to send your words tripping over one another as you dry your hands. “I just, umm. I don’t want anyone else eating my food so I wanna hurry.” 

“Our food,” your sibling corrects as he watches his friend walk up before he does. “Yoong, you can chill.” 

“It’s cool.” 

“He’s a better cook than you,” you chide from the fridge, giddy that Yoongi’s taking your offer but wait oh fuck did you really just say that out loud goddamn it—

“Hey, that’s not fair! That’s only cus he hogs grilling duty every time.” 

“Could’ve always helped, you know.” 

“Nuance.” 

Good. So either your brother didn’t catch that or just figured you knew from those cookouts and parties. Totally not from cooking alongside his best friend for the better part of a week. Cool. 

Clearing your perfectly fine throat, you set some foodstuffs on the island with dull thumps, letting both of them know what you want done with each part of the meal. 

“Damn! You aren’t feeding the whole party?”

“Nope.” You hope Yoongi realizes what you’re about to make, and you smile at the same ingredients you used to cook what he brought to the studio. “Just us.” 

When you spare him a quick glance, there’s something in his expression. It’s small. It’s subtle. But it’s there. 

And it’s enough to know that he might be missing you, too.

“Are y’all done cutting?”

“Yeah, almost.”

“K. Ready when you are.”

While they’re both busy by the sink and talking about various things, you’ve been nursing the pots and pans on the stove.

In typical you fashion, you did end up caving, deciding to make a lot so that more people could eat. Cooking and serving usually go hand in hand, and you do enjoy seeing when someone likes what you made. 

Plus, you need an excuse to see Yoongi’s reaction this time, since you were robbed when he ate at the studio. You aren’t asking for much, right? All you have to do is stick around for a bit so you can get some closure.

A vibration could be heard from the island, and all three of you turn from your makeshift stations. 

It’s your brother’s phone. “Ah, shit. Lemme take this.”

You watch as he wipes his hands before swiping his device, squashing it to his ear with a shoulder. As he passes you, he just tilts his head,

“You can put mine in.”

“You could’ve just—” 

“Hey! Y’all coming tonight?”

Your scoff follows him around the corner. 

Why do you even ask him for help? He always does this! 

Whatever. 

You move to grab his stuff only to see Yoongi a few steps away with it already.

“Where do you want these.”

Oh.

All you have to do is answer him. Truthfully, you could just point and that would be enough. 

But you can’t. You can barely take another breath with him looking at you, dressed in a set that has you weak with bangs lingering dangerously over his eyes. 

He’s right there. 

And you feel like he couldn’t be further away. 

Swallowing your misery, you finally move and gesture to a pot. “This one.”

Without pause, Yoongi walks up next to you, sliding everything in and putting the cutting board down with a clunk. 

Spices fill your nose as sizzling tickles your ears, but all of your focus is on wondering what he’s gonna do next. 

Is he gonna walk away now? Keep acting distant? Tell you to stop blatantly staring when your brother could walk back in at any—

“Sesame.”

A blink. “Huh?”

He turns to look at you before shifting his eyes to a slim bottle on the counter. “There’s sesame oil this time.”

Ah. 

You didn’t put that in last time because he didn’t have any.

How the hell did he remember? Even you didn’t think about that.

Lip bitten, you face your pan, shyness now accompanying your sadness.

Of course he would remember. Of course he would point that out. It’s so inherently him that your heart almost slips into the pan in front of you. 

If only it were just the two of you still. You wouldn’t have to be on edge or worry about where you stand with him. 

Though Tae’s label and Dom’s question still ring in your ears, those are going to stay nothing more than a dream. A wonderful scenario you can keep imagining at night, or during a confession scene, or simply while driving to a job you aren’t happy with. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, hearing your brother’s voice move further across the house. “There is.”

“Fuck it, come here.”

You don’t even get to question what’s happening before your chin gets tugged and your lips seized, breath sucked all the way into your lungs while shoulders meet your ears. 

Colors burst as Yoongi lets you go as quickly as he claimed you, and your vision spins as he darts his eyes between yours. 

“You staying?”

Stars. Stars. Your eyes are stars. “Huh?”

“When they get here.”

“Why?”

Unwavering, he admits as plain as day, 

“I wanna see you.”

He what? 

Stunned, you start to say his name before you feel him squeeze your ass, tugging you flush against him and causing your stomach to backflip off a top rope because what the fuck?

“Also.” A bit of teeth shows behind his curve as his greeting glides out in a low, smug as fuck,

“Hi.”

…What the hell! What is he doing!

His laugh while you panic shove him off is aimed at the stove instead, and you’re left to gawk at his side profile for what feels like hours. And hours.

Yoongi did not just do that in your own house. No way. Absolutely no way.

As he spares you a quick glance again, his eyes roam across your face before he quietly hisses in mirth, grabbing a spatula and stirring what he dropped in the pan seconds—hours?—earlier.

Your breath finally returns when you hear your brother’s voice enter the hallway again. “Yoongi…”

“Hmm?” When he sees you watching him, his expression drops in a way that has you melting. “Shit, too much?”

“No, no. I just—” As much as you would replay that tiny moment over and over again, it only reminded your heart of better things. Of easier times. And it’s banging against your chest like an animal to the point where it physically hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts.

Fuck it.

Launching forward, you tug him back in for another kiss—rushed, desperate, simply not enough. Your nails dig into the soft material of his shirt, as if the animal inside of you is claiming prey after absolute starvation. 

His lips are just as—

Footsteps and goodbyes sound off around the corner. 

Retreating with all the willpower you have left, everything you’ve wanted to say over the past fifty or so hours comes out in three loaded syllables,

“I miss you.”

And you have to move away as your sibling enters the kitchen, eyes welling impossibly fast and lungs on fire. 

“My bad! Got carried away.”

“Who was that?”

“Rohan.”

“He’s not coming.”

“Nah, he said he was.”

“Uh huh.”

While they converse, cold fridge air snaps you back into normalcy, and you pretend to rummage around for nothing before shutting it with a small thump. “Took you long enough,” you snip as you go to grab Yoongi’s cutting board, since he took your brother’s instead. “We’re almost done!”

“Ah, damn. I thought you’d be finished already.”

“Lazy!”

“Hey, I helped!”

“Useless.”

“What!”

A small snort leaves your nose as you bring Yoongi’s cuts to the stove, mind a little clearer despite his surprise attack. 

Because even though your heart wants plenty more than whatever the hell just happened, your worries have retreated for now. 

He kissed you. 

He wants to see you.

Dom, as always, has been right this entire time.

You feel like you could fly with how light your shoulders feel. Even the food smells better and looks more appetizing. 

Eyeing your brother across the kitchen, you ask with newfound glee, “Would you rather be lazy or useless?”

“Doesn’t matter if he’s both.”

“Bitch! Move over, I’m doing the rest.”

As your brother shoves into his friend’s side, he meets resistance as the latter pushes right back with a strained laugh. 

Immediately, you back up as they struggle over the utensil, laughing in earnest and then some.

“Gimme the spoon!”

“No! You’re gonna fuck it up!”

“I’ll make it better if you just—”

“Hell no! Fuck off!”

Fools. Both of them are complete fools! Your cheeks legitimately hurt from seeing them wrestle over a goddamn spatula, so much so that it’s hard to form words. 

It’s only when your brother knocks the pot a little too hard that you intervene with a string of sounds, “Stop, stop! You’re gonna knock it over!”

Both of them cease while you walk up to Yoongi’s other side. “How about you both fuck off and I finish by myself, yeah?”

Before either of them responds, the doorbell does, and your brother leaves immediately. “Coming!”

Which leaves you alone with Yoongi for mere seconds.

And he uses them to his complete advantage.

“Show me that sometime.”

Something is placed in your hand before you fully register what he means, and your jaw drops before he walks away with a goddamn smirk.

Motherfucker, he didn’t have to wink, too!

Breathing in, you curse him out before looking at the spatula you now possess, curling your fingers around the warm handle. 

He wants to see you?

Texts be damned.

Greetings flow out of the entrance as a group of people arrive, and you smile while busying yourself at the stove. When you hear your name being called, you turn to say your hellos and let them all know food’s almost ready. 

One of the guys almost steps foot into the kitchen to see what you’re making, but both Yoongi and your brother halt and spin him with light touches.

Sparing a glance at your sibling calling him impatient, you wonder if he knew Yoongi did the same thing. 

But more and more people start coming in, and soon music fills the house to compete with pops of conversations. 

Wasn’t tonight supposed to be relaxed? You don’t even think there’s enough food for everyone. While your brother starts pulling alcohol from the counter, you question with heavy judgment, 

“This is a chill night?”

He looks out into the living room with a tsk. “Meant for it to be. Guess people just tagged along.” Grabbing a bag of solos from a cabinet, he apologizes, “Sorry.” 

“Kick’em out early, please.” 

“Yeah, I can.” 

Everything you prepared smells divine. You even hear someone comment on the smell from a room over while you’re finishing up. After getting out disposable plates—because you can cook for people but you are not cleaning up after them—you announce that the food is ready.

“Thanks!”

“I’m starving.”

“You better not hog everything again.”

“It was one time.” 

Standing at the bar, you watch as all your brother’s friends congregate in the kitchen, observing everyone’s conversations and keeping to yourself as much as possible. 

Some of them you recognize from his team, and some of them you’ve known for quite awhile. It’s a lively bunch, and you admire your sibling for keeping up so many friendships all these years. 

“Y’all better thank her. She made all this shit.”

Oh, god. So many eyes on you. 

After the cacophony of gratitude and comments on the food, you smile without teeth. “Just leave a little for me. I’m still hungry.” 

“K!” 

You don’t trust hungry crowds, but at least you still have your brother’s leftovers in the fridge. 

The doorbell rings again and, since you’re the closest, you vacate the bar and head to the front. 

To your surprise, it’s Jimin waiting on the welcome mat—the man you need to thank for Dalo.

“Hey,” you greet instead, letting him in. “Anyone else with you?”

“Hello, love.” His smile is always so charming, and it currently contrasts with the all black fit and cap he’s sporting. “Just me.” 

“There’s food in the kitchen,” you offer as the door closes with a thump. “If you’re hungry.” 

Thank him, too. Just say thank you for what he didn’t need to do but did anyway. 

“I just ate, thank you—hey!” 

And your chance evaporates.

You watch as he starts his routine, saying hi until he’s gotten to everybody. The habits of a true host, you figure. He could run for council one day with those mannerisms, especially with a force like Taehyung by his side.

You really hope whatever they got going on works out. 

Well. Maybe you can catch Jimin some other time tonight. There’s no point in doing it now.

When you get back to your spot at the bar, you see that another plate has materialized next to yours. 

Did anyone take your seat? Is this someone’s food?

Glancing around, there isn’t anyone else other than someone getting their own portions. All the other people are scattered about the house or backyard. 

Huh.

Despite feeling like a fly on a wall, sticking around is somewhat enjoyable. Not having to socialize too much takes some pressure off your shoulders, and sparing glances at Yoongi wearing one of his beloved tracksuits is always a plus. 

Your brother said he’s been sucked into his phone often, but you haven’t noticed that tonight. He’s mostly been talking and listening to people, even smiling and joking a bit, too. 

“Wait, didn’t one of y’all tag that abandoned pool before?”

“No?”

“Yes, you did! Wait, no. It was Yoongi!”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Oh. I swore it was. It was sick, too.”

“Okay, maybe it was me.”

Laughter erupts as he grins into his cup. 

“You and Jimin, man. Troublemakers.”

The latter lazily points in defense. “Doesn’t count if you don’t get caught.”

“That’s even worse.”

“You guys were terrible.”

“Hey,” Yoongi pipes up, room hinging on his set brows and waiting on his argument. But, after a pause, all that comes out is confident agreement, “We still are.”

And more laughs pierce the surrounding furniture.

Even from your position a ways away, you hunch forward in your amusement. But there’s another reason for your grin.

He’s so handsome when he’s happy.

Has he always been like this around his friends? You know Yoongi’s not the extroverted type, but to see him so comfortable around people makes you feel at ease. 

Except when his eyes shift to you.

Because it feels like you’re the only person he’s acknowledging in those moments, which throws all thoughts and feelings into a stew that rivals what you made tonight. 

All the times before, you’ve turned or scurried away. 

But now, you decide to exude pure joy from your lonely spot on a wall, and you see a brilliant spark take root in his eyes. 

A half hour later, you still wanna thank Jimin for what he did, and you finally get your chance when he enters the kitchen to refill a cup. 

Coming up next to him, you grab a little liquor of your own before you blurt over the music,

“Thank you.”

Jimin looks your way, eyes watching over the lid of his solo. 

“For Dalo.”

Straightening, he shrugs. “No need.”

“But I’ve been wanting to.”

“Not surprising,” he says through a smile. “You and your brother. So stubborn. You can text me, you know.” 

Laughing, you take a sip and let the subtle burn slide down your throat. “I think he’d interrogate you if you were texting me.” 

“I can take him.” 

Jimin will forever be Jimin. It’s admirable, really. If he was the one you were seeing, who knows how many texts would have been sent since Friday. 

But he’s not. 

The one you’ve been seeing is a room over, someone you haven’t been able to approach since he stole oxygen from your lungs. 

You thought watching Yoongi having fun would be enough. But with each passing minute, you found yourself increasingly incorrect. Yearning took over like a weed, quickly overrunning your chest and making it hard for you to accept being a mere wallflower.  

Just like the sear of alcohol, something else settles into your stomach. And it’s not pleasant, or wanted.

Even if you dated Yoongi, how the hell could you navigate that? There’s no way things can just change and suddenly you’re sitting right beside him at parties. Or anywhere. At least, not without his friends giving you strange looks or past hookups chucking malice your way. 

Some of them can even be here right now. Which you would rather not think about, so your next sip is bigger than the last.

Because all you’ve been is a younger sister. Not really part of their group or age or whatever else that separates your world from theirs. 

People say to look at the bigger picture.

But you don’t particularly like the way yours is turning out. 

Fuck, your heartbeat is super, super loud right now.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” 

Instantly, sounds and voices reach normal clarity. The heavy thumps you hear aren’t your pulse, but bass from the music instead. When you blink, Jimin is already regarding you with curiosity, a hand on your arm in concern. 

Shit. How long were you just standing there? “Oh. Just thinking.”

“About Dalo?” He slides his palm off, leaving a million questions in its wake. “It’s okay, really.”

“No, not that,” you sigh, nostrils singed from your drink. Staring out the kitchen windows, you respond as airily as the smoke that drifts over your back porch. “Not that at all.” 

“Basketball? Ah, yeah.” 

Huh?

You whip your stare to his, which causes his jaw to shut in an instant. 

Because either he really just wanted to bring that up again, or he misheard you terribly over the music. 

Miraculously, your opportunity presented itself. So you are not letting it slip by this time. “What about it.”  

“Nothing.”

Fuck that. Frowning, you don’t back down. “What do you mean, Jimin. You said you would tell me.”

“I figured you would’ve known by now.” 

“No one’s told me shit.” 

Unblinking, you watch as he licks his lips in thought. You hear a few feet on the kitchen tile, but nothing can stop you from getting this information now. Not stares, nor whispers, or even your brother. 

And he seems to pick up on your determination. He’s the one that called you stubborn, after all. Eyes shadowed by the rim of his hat, he sighs in defeat, “I’ll tell you, but. I feel like either of them should instead.” 

You find that your fingers actually grip the side of his shirt. “Please,” you whisper. “Now I’m starting to get worried.” 

Because what in the hell could be so significant about that day? It’s better if your brother or Yoongi tell you instead? What the hell does that mean?

After several grueling seconds, Jimin waits until the last people leave the kitchen. You observe the way his eyes covertly scan, and you peer over your own shoulder to gauge the room. 

Finally, his voice drifts through the empty air when he surrenders, “Okay. After you left… Something went down.” 

Your hand drops from his side. “What?” 

“Uhh.” He steps back and fixes his cap, eyes storming with conflict. “Fuck, I really shouldn’t be the one telling you.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

Because now? Now you need to know. Your heart is pounding and you’re pretty sure the next song is good but you can’t exactly hear it. All you’re focused on is what he is going to tell you. Because he gave you a bite and now you’ll fight for the entire course.

But no further coercion is needed. Jimin continues, seemingly unable to look your way. “Some dude made some threats.” 

“Threats? To who?” 

He glances at you before sighing. And you have to answer yourself.

“Oh. Me? What the fuck?” 

“I told you—” 

“Jimin… Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“I can’t speak for them, but. They probably just didn’t want you to worry.” 

“Were they really that bad?”

He prods a cheek before divulging the last, most crucial part. “He threatened to find this house, so. Yeah.” 

Well. That’s definitely a lot worse than you thought. You can take empty threats; everyone goes through shit like that. But for someone to threaten to find an address? Were they really… That…

Serious?

Hold on.

Hold on hold on hold on.

Your words feel like suspense itself on your tongue. 

“Wait, so… That whole time…” 

Jimin just stares—stares, and stares, and stares—while everything hits you like a train. 

The whole week.

That entire time.

Yoongi was keeping you safe. 

The key. The goading you into coming over. The way he kept looking over his shoulder while you walked at night. Telling you that Jimin knows.

This also explains why Jimin freaked out at Taehyung’s place. When he overheard that you weren’t responding. 

A chill pops in your chest like dry ice, freezing everything over in seconds. 

You heard Yoongi saying something went down when your brother came home. Voice shaking, you ask Jimin even though your heart knows the answer, 

“Was… Was the guy at Dalo…?” 

He sets his cup down before gripping the counter in both palms, and he doesn’t need to say anything else. 

“Almost lost our goddamn minds.” 

You start feeling your fingers tremble before a hand clamps over your mouth. 

Fuck. 

Oh fuck, oh fuck. 

No wonder the fucker looked familiar; no wonder it felt so off; no wonder Jimin’s heart was racing as much as yours was.

Everything in your brain is spinning, thoughts leaping from one end to the next and bumping and screeching and popping and—

You need something. You don’t know what. Yoongi. Your room. To be alone. His place. Nowhere. Is it stuffy in here? You need space. Space. 

Space.

“Thank you,” you rush out. “For telling me.” 

And you quickly excuse yourself, almost missing the pair of eyes watching your hasty exit to your bedroom.

Everything’s completely blurry when your door shuts behind you. Cursing, you run your hand across your nose before a storm of thoughts jolts your body. 

It’s too much. 

The feelings swirling in your chest have no place to go but out of your ducts, pinging onto your floor and into your clothes.

Are you overthinking this? No. You think and think and think but by god you are pretty damn sure about this one.

Why would he do that? No one has ever gone these lengths for you. At least, no one other than your brother, who’s had it ingrained in his blood since forever. 

But Yoongi didn’t have to go this far. Neither did Jimin, for that matter. They both could’ve just passed it off as a bluff, or forgotten about it as soon as the next day rolled around. 

Fucking hell, how they must’ve felt at Dalo.

There’s an unspeakable pang in your chest just thinki—

Your phone’s vibrations scare the shit out of you, and you check to see who texted before another hot batch of tears roll down your face.

Yoongi [10:04pm]: What’s wrong, doll

Goddamn it.

What do you even—why did he—how are you supposed to answer? All you want to do is wrap yourself in his embrace and never leave. You wanna walk past everyone in your house and stand in front of him, if only to tell him a thousand and one thank-you’s by catapulting yourself into his arms.

But you can’t do any of that. And it sucks. 

You [10:06pm]: he told me

You [10:06pm]: about basketball

You stumble to your bathroom, bracing yourself on your counter before removing all the gunk from today in a wash. 

It’s not like you’re going back out there. Not after looking like a legitimate trainwreck. 

After you’re done, you see that he texted back, throat constricting at his continued concern. Always his concern. Always his effort. 

Holy fuck, his effort.

Yoongi [10:09pm]: Talk to me

You [10:17pm]: i really fucking want to

You [10:17pm]: but i can’t

Yoongi [10:18pm]: Gimme ten

What? He’s not gonna leave and call you, is he? It’s late but it’s not super late. If he dips out now, wouldn’t that be too early?

Well, your brother did say he was leaving early all weekend. Probably to work on something.

But regardless. You can’t position yourself as someone that makes him leave just out of selfishness. He can still have fun while he’s here. You can wait. 

After what you heard, you can wait as long as he needs. 

You [10:20pm]: what no. you don’t have to leave 

Yoongi [10:20pm]: I know  

A sniffle.

What the hell did you do to deserve any of this?

As you settle into the cold of your sheets, you let out a few more tears.

Because now, more than ever, you wanna run right for that godforsaken finish line.

Though it’s been more than ten minutes, you don’t mind. If anything, Yoongi’s given you time to process everything, tears hardening on your cheeks and soaking into your pillowcase. 

Even before he gave you that key, he was protecting you in his own ways. For fuck’s sake, he even came over the day your brother flew out, probably just to check on you. So many things. So many nights. 

Recalling how you joked about walking home, now you feel downright awful if you scared him somewhat. 

When he finally calls, your throat tightens, but you answer the phone regardless.

“Hey, doll.” 

His voice is a salve for your wounds. “Yoongi… Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

You hear a long sigh, the low hum of his car filling the space right after.

“Fucking Park.”

“I made him tell me,” you defend. “Since no one else ever said anything.” Waiting, you trace your fingers along one of the divots in your sheets. And you’re unsurprised when you realize it’s in the spot he took residence before.

“I’d rather you worry about normal shit.”

You freeze.

“You don’t ever need to worry about that.”

The entirety of every language you know escapes you. For his explanation renders you speechless. 

Jimin was correct in his assumption. But it doesn’t take away from how you feel. How grateful, how terrible, how indescribable you feel. 

That’s a long time to shoulder something and not say a word about it. And from his reaction, you don’t think he planned on saying anything at all. “But that whole time… You…”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

He’s downplaying. Why is he downplaying? From the way Jimin spoke, those threats weren’t light. And Yoongi cannot tell you it was nothing considering how he acted after Dalo.

Fuck. 

After Dalo.

How he was the whole night after suddenly cakes your throat to the brim.

Because it was already enough to make you rethink some things. But now? After knowing the whole truth?

Fucking hell, Min Yoongi.

A wave of emotion cradles you into its swell, and you feel something warm spread throughout every fibre of your being. It’s comforting, it’s peaceful, it’s healing. 

Suddenly, even the normal shit doesn’t seem worrisome at all.

Breath shuddering, your chest aches so much that you almost consider sneaking out of your window to follow him back home. “He told me,” you whisper into the line, tears threatening to splash onto your screen. “The guy at Dalo.”

A curse shoots out before you’re back to hearing the ambiance of the drive. 

Yoongi really didn’t want you to know that part, it seems. 

And truthfully, you get it. You don’t think you would’ve told anyone something like that, either. 

“Jimin knew not to let me get you. You haven’t noticed, but. I still have a big ass bruise from him shoving me into the bar.” 

“Yoongi.” You have to know. It’s not enough to know what happened. Now you need to know something deeper. And it’s not even out of worry; it’s out of pure curiosity. “Why?”

“Because we were asked to.”

…Huh?

You didn’t know that was the case. Your brother was the one that asked them? There couldn’t be anyone else that Yoongi was referring to.

How did that guy get out alive if he threatened you in front of your brother? What all actually happened?

“And I was gonna anyways.”

Breathing in, you still can’t believe it. You can’t believe anything that’s been said or revealed to you in the last hour or so. 

Fuck, even your brother having people over makes sense. He wants to be home instead of leaving you in the house.

They all did so much. So much more than you even realized. “You even stayed... That night.” 

“I wasn’t gonna leave you alone.” 

Oh, it hurts. Your chest hurts like it’s never, ever hurt before. It’s hard to even form the right sentences, when all you can think about is him. “Yoongi… Thank you.” 

“It’s all good. When’s your interview?” 

Disbelief shoots from your mouth. 

That’s what he decides to talk about now? After this massive revelation that he didn’t speak a word of for a week? 

Who knows. This could just be a normal, everyday happening that Yoongi is used to. It may not mean much at all in his grand scheme of things. 

But to you? To you, this means more than everything.

So much is choked up in your throat that it leaks out of your eyes. When you finally respond, you hope that he can’t tell you’re crying.

“It’s… It’s on Tuesday. After work.” You can’t help but let a sound slip. How the fuck can Yoongi be so normal about all of this? You feel like you can barely function. “Still nervous as fuck.” 

You know he knows you’re crying. But he doesn’t comment on it at all. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is assurance. 

“You’ll be fine.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Just cus.” 

Unbelievable. And yet completely him. Your palm comes up to wipe gratitude and a myriad of other emotions from your eyes. 

This entire time.

You don’t think you’ll ever stop thinking about this. 

And you have a pretty fucking good excuse to not overthink about him anymore.

“That’s a really lame answer.” 

“Did it work?” 

“A little.” 

“Good.” 

A tiny hum escapes through your clogged throat. If only he wasn’t driving further and further away. Wasn’t he the one that made you comfortable here?

You think you understand how. Maybe a part of your heart left with him after he stayed the night. And maybe, just maybe, the rest of it is packing up and fighting to escape your rib cage.

“You should go, doll.” 

“No.”

His slight laugh is comfort in a sound.

“At least go back out for a sec. Get some water or something.”

“Okay…” 

Despite agreeing, you find that you’re far from being done. How could you be? You wanna stay as long as he lets you. Brain whirring, you grab hold of anything you can use as an excuse to keep him on the line. 

And you end up settling for something safe. “Wait, where’s my copy of your album?” 

He responds with amusement again, but immediately takes the bait. 

“I don’t even have the masters yet.” 

“Liar. You must have at least one.”

There’s a brief pause before he admits, 

“Okay, maybe I have one.” 

“I knew it!” 

“You caught that way too quick.” 

“Yeah, you better watch out.” 

“Agreed.” 

“You know.. This whole time,” you start, rueful puffs of air fanning onto your receiver, “I’ve been wondering if I could talk to you again.” 

“I thought you just forgot about me.” 

“Huh?” 

Quite possibly the most untrue statement in history.

“You never texted, so. I never knew when it was a good time.” 

He laughs, seemingly to himself. 

“Then a whole weekend passed.” 

Staring into your ceiling, you frown. “You’re joking.” 

“Dead serious.” 

“Wow.” 

“I almost called you. Like three fucking times.” 

“Really?”

“For nothing, too. You know I had a cat at my door two days in a row?” 

“Nu uh. A stray?”

“Think so. I left some water out but didn’t have any food. Fuck, I need to go to the store.” 

You hear Yoongi get out of his car, and you wish you were there with him walking to his apartment. You’d probably be able to see his newfound pet. “You know you have a cat now, right?” 

“No.” 

“Yeah.” 

“No chance.” 

“It’s there now, huh.” 

The silence on the line is your answer.

“Listen—” 

“See—” 

“It is. But it’s leaving now.” 

“Is it really.” 

You hear a shuffle of sounds, and in your heart of hearts you know he’s bending down to pet the damn thing. 

But his pride makes his answer noncommittal. 

“Mm.” 

“Oh my god, another lie! Such a liar.” 

Mirth fills your speaker, and you can hear his smug ass smile. 

“Nu uh.” 

“I can’t with you. I’m hanging up.” 

You hear the distinct jangle of keys, and that one sound alone breaks your facade.

“I lied. I don’t wanna go.”

His door shuts, and you can imagine him padding through his place after slipping off his shoes. He had really nice ones on today, so they’re probably going into those neat, clear bins he uses for more coveted pairs. 

“Just call me later.”

“When?”

“When he’s passed out.”   

“Okay… Do I have to go now?”

“Mm. I’m almost done with something I wanna show you.” 

“Really?” 

“Uh huh. And you’re distracting me so hang up.” 

“You called me!” 

“So?” 

“Wow. Goodbye, babe.” 

There’s a quiet moment. Then a quiet, rueful huff of breath. 

“Talk later, doll.” 

And the phone is suddenly silent. 

While your head is as loud as can be.

A couple hours pass before you hear your brother finally knocked out. 

After hanging up earlier, you did venture out of your room to get water. Of course, you made yourself presentable and not snot-nosed before leaving. Couldn’t let anyone immediately wonder if you were okay or not. 

Because while you got closure about what happened, it’s still so full of emotion that you think you’ll break if you have to speak about it again. 

Jimin spotted you before you stepped back into your room, but he only offered a smile after your mouth curved upward in perpetual thankfulness.

In that moment, you decided to give your brother some credit, too. 

For everything that he’s done thus far. And for picking an elite group of close friends. 

Inching up against his door, you place your ear on the wood, hearing the rush of air before telltale snoring rumbles through. 

So it isn’t long before you’re back in your room, calling back the man you will never get over as long as you live. 

“I didn’t think you’d do it.”

“Really? Why?”

“Fully expected you to chicken out.”

Huffing in pride, you settle onto your sheets. “I like proving you wrong.”

“I see that.”

“So what were you gonna show me?”

“Huh? Nah, I’m still not done.” 

Giving your phone a weird look, you note, “You said to call back.” 

There’s a mix of scratching sounds on the line, and you wonder if he’s at his desk or in his bed.

“Yeah.”

“So…?”

“Just felt like making you come.”

Fuck!

“Yoo—” You slap a hand over your mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

The grin in his voice can be heard for miles.

“You don’t wanna?”

Is this man for real? Yes, you’ve spoken on the phone when your brother was here and yes, you want to jump his goddamn bones. But this is definitely crossing into dangerous territory. “I…I do, but—”

“Then do as I say. It won’t take long.”

“Cocky son of a bitch,” you whisper, already frazzled to no end. It seems your lips get a lot looser, more unfiltered the more caught off-guard you are. 

You wonder if Yoongi’s caught onto that. Judging from the chuckles you hear in your speaker, he probably already has. 

“You ever done this before?”

“No.”

“Then trust me.”

Settling far under your covers and placing pillows around, you whisper, “Fine… You better not charge me for this.”

A hum buzzes the line. 

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me to pay up.”

“Oh. Good idea. I will now.”

“Gonna run me dry, huh?”

“Mmhmm. Plus interest.”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Just missed you.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Keep whatever shirt you got on, forget the rest. You’re gonna need it in a sec.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, slowly reaching down to slip off your bottoms. Your heart is already racing, and the warmth under your covers is increasing bit by bit. “They’re off now.”

“Good girl.”

Air leaves your lungs, but it’s what he says next that causes you to outright flinch.

“What did I tell you to show me.”

Shuddering, your hand is already palming your mound, but all you can think about is how much better it would be to have him there. “Yoongi…”

“Careful, doll. Neighbors can’t know my name just yet.”

Lip bitten, you admit, “I just wish you were here.”

“Fuckin’ same. But do what makes you feel good.”

Swallowing nothing, you dip low, feeling your essence coat your fingers even though you haven’t even started yet. 

This man can probably make you come from his voice alone. 

But you don’t need to admit that to him.

“You wet, baby girl?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good. Keep going for me.”

Swirling your fingers over your clit always works, but the thoughts and images running across your eyes are what really get you bothered. 

The way Yoongi’s fingers feel in your cunt instead; the sounds he isn’t afraid to make in your ear; the roughness he unleashes on you in those moments he lets go. You can practically hear his grunts, feel his thrusts, taste his sweat.

And this is the same man that kept you safe?

It’s all so overwhelming that you don’t even notice how hard you’re breathing.

“Sound so fucking hot.” 

A whimper escapes.

How can he say that when he sounds like sin incarnate?

Everything he’s said to you, whether in his right mind or not, comes washing over you in waves. Your fingers find a rhythm as you run through the whole week, and you throw in a few scenarios that you dare not bring up. 

Well. Maybe you will now. Frankly, you want to be under his mercy more than you ever have before. It’s as if his selflessness unlocked a deep, dark part of you, begging to be addressed. 

The things that are coming to mind. They’re gathering on your tongue, pooling into thick saliva that’s threatening to spill out the side of your mouth. “I miss…” 

“Hmm.” 

Let it all out. 

“I miss being your slut, Yoongi.”

The deep curse on the line sends jolts to your core, and his next words rumble out like thunder. 

“My slut, huh?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Tell me something then.”

Your fingers slow down their pace as your ears perk. “What.”

“No lies.” 

“Okay.”

“What does my needy girl want?”

Fucking hell, he can’t just say stuff like that with no warning! Immediately, you let out a tiny whine as your digits glide against your slick. “Choke me.”

“Knew you’d love that shit. What else.”

Admitting the first was a lot easier than the second. You can’t even bring yourself to utter it in a whisper let alone loud enough for him to hear. Truthfully, just imagining it right now is enough to get you close to the edge. Your voice comes out extremely strained as you whimper, “I can’t say.”

“You can.”

“Nu uh.”

“Then stop.”

Your hand grinds to an agonizing halt. “What?”

“You heard what I said. Until you tell me, you’re done.”

No! No no no you were so fucking close! “Asshole!”

“Me? I’m letting you off easy.”

“Fuck. Okay… I…”

“You..”

He isn’t helping.

Gulping, you feel your cunt pulse around your fingers as you finally shudder out, “My mouth.” 

“Uh huh. What about it.”

“Umm…” Say it. Just say it and get it over with all you need to do is just say it. 

So you do.

“Spit in my mouth.” 

Only to face complete silence on the line. 

Blinking into darkness, you almost take your hand away from your center before you hear his voice grind over boulders,

“Don’t make me climb through your fucking window.” 

A whine slips between your closed lips. If he came into your room now, you wouldn’t have cared if every deity in existence overheard what would happen. The amount of lust and something scarier you’re carrying for this man is at an all-time peak. “Don’t tease me. I want it.”

“I just might, fuck.”

“Yes,” you pant, knowing exactly what he means by his broken speech. “Yes. Oh, fuck, I’m close. Yoongi, please!”

“Shirt, doll.”

“What?”

His voice sounds like he’s barely holding on when he grits out,

“Bite that shit you’re wearing or I’m hanging up.” 

“I—mmph—”

“I’d shut you up with my dick, but. That should do.” 

Fuck! Your squeal is incredibly high as your fingers keep up a stunning pace, the shocks of pleasure tightening your legs. 

You hear a condescending laugh on the line, and you don’t know the logic behind it turning you on so much, but it does. 

“Goddamn. It’s like you want everyone to hear you, baby girl.” 

You shake your head, breaths shallow and fast, knowing damn well he can’t see you. 

“You’re getting off on this, huh.”

“Mm mm!” 

“Uh huh.” 

Another stupid, unnecessary laugh punctures straight into your cunt.

“Getting off on doing something you shouldn’t.”

“Mmm!”

“My girl’s so dirty.”

“Yoough—”

You can’t take it anymore. At a label you didn’t expect to hear, your dam bursts, gushing out onto your fingers and spilling from your core. 

It’s massive. Unrelenting. All of your pent-up feelings come in waves, washing you ashore only to drag you back in. The harsh groan you sink into your shirt makes Yoongi react, and your legs threaten to close before he orders,

“Uh uh, keep going, baby. Since you wanna slut it out so bad.”

“Fughk!”

“God, you probably look so fucked out right now. Miss that shit.”

You rip the soaking shirt from your mouth, already close while you keep your fingers wedged inside. Your body thrums with each hard pulse, and imagining him fucking you deep is enough to set you off. “Yoongi. Baby. I’m close again.”

“Then shut the fuck up and come.”

You moan his name into the thick material of your top, hoping to every higher power that it’s muffled enough. 

Your walls pulse wildly around your fingers, and you feel so fucking euphoric that your eyes see sounds in the back of your head. 

But your back snaps into place again as you settle back onto your mattress, muscles aching and filled with a lingering soreness. The only thing you can do is breathe heavily into the receiver, hoping Yoongi’s just as satisfied as you are.

“Feel better?”

“Much better,” you rasp out as the wet material slides down your neck. “You?”

“I’ve been waiting for this since you kissed me. So yeah.” 

Ever since then? That was hours ago. 

You need to inhale before offering, “Do you… Do you wanna come, too?”

A chuckle. 

“I got what I wanted, doll. It’s cool.” 

“I take…” You gulp in a breath. “I take cash or card.” 

A loud bit of laughter punctuates your phone, and your grin is lopsided from exhaustion. Sweat coats every single part of your skin, some of it rolling off your legs in spent drops. 

“God…” 

“So pay up.” 

“How about this. Come over when you’re done with that interview.” 

“Mm?”

“Then I will.” 

“Mm.” 

What he offered finally registers in your brain, and it’s like a humongous light switch. Suddenly alert, you clarify, “Wait. You sure?”

“I am.” 

Is he really offering that? You both know your brother is back. And your interview may end during late afternoon. Around the time he gets off. 

Yoongi has to know all of these things. 

But if he’s truly serious, who are you to deny his offering? When you find yourself caring less and less? “K… Guess I’ll go clean up now.”

“Mm. I’m gonna pass out soon anyway.” 

“Wait.”

“Hmm.”

A grin spreads your face so wide that it starts to hurt, and excitement to hear his reaction tingles you before you joke, “Where’s my kiss?” 

He laughs, knowing exactly what you mean. 

And your smile is impossibly wider when he responds,

“Good luck, babe.” 

This whole weekend. 

This entire weekend, you’ve been worried about various things. Bogged down by a past that clings to your feet like quicksand, dragging you away from wonderful, tender things you’ve been told. 

But it seems like you found a step of solid footing. One sure, stable piece of foundation that has probably been there for longer than you’d known. 

Besides. Walking to a finish line is just as significant as running. Because if you get there, you get there, and that’s a win.

“Thank you. Seriously.” You pause, gazing at the empty space that you want occupied for an uncountable amount of nights. “For everything.”

“I meant what I said, doll.” 

Your smile is warm.

“Anytime.” 

-

-

-

tbc. :) 

-

A/N: ahhh. so. how did it go? i just wanna say, to everyone that sent that damn tweet of a guy doing the little things to protect his girl and saying it’s 3tan yoongi... i wanted to scream every time bc of THIS. LOL. but yeah, we finally get to hear about wtf happened during basketball. as for the actual scene..... y’all might get that later, too :’)) i just want this chapter to be out for a little bit beforehand so people can read it first.  A/N 2: as always, thank you so much for all of the support. whether you’re new, or an OG, i truly appreciate you being here and going on this journey with me and the 3tan crew. i’m still just a bit sick and sniffly (totally not bc of yoongi what who does that?) so the writing may not be top tier. but i hope this was still worth the wait!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

[married-to-google-translater]

How about the yandere or sfw alphabet for Maven?

Sfw alfabet becomes later

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Maven would be really intense. He would love you so much. It would have become like an addiction for him. But Maven would try to contain his love. This is why he sometimes steals your stuff and has a Y/N body pillow :D

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Really messy. Maven wouldn't really be afraid of blood. And he would be willing to kill for you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Ahahahaha never. Maven would try to make you comfortable. He would be sorry it had come to this. He would also have prepared your room as comfortably as possible for you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Maven would love to take pictures of you sleeping. He just couldn't help himself. You are just so lovely. Other things Maven wouldn't do if you didn't want them to.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Maven would be really vulnerable. He would reveal almost everything... Almost. However, Maven never mentions what he does to those people who "threaten" your relationship.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Maven would feel terrible. Like someone was stabbing him. He wouldn't want to hurt you... But he can't let you go either. Why can't you just be happy with him? Maven dosen't really understand.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Absolutely not. Maven wouldn't appreciate it if you tried to escape. Instead, he would worry that you would accidentally hurt yourself.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Definitely seeing the basement... The image of a partner who could never hurt anyone would crumble in an instant. Especially if the basement is messy.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Maven would just like to be with you alone forever. He just wants a normal life with you. Or as ordinary as he could get under the circumstances.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Maven's other name would be Mr. Breathe close to my Darling and you will lose the privilege of breathing...

Maven has noticed that being around you and planning a murder helps with jealousy

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Maven would worship the ground you walk on. She would always want to be near you, ask about your day, help you with different things, etc. Maven would praise and praise almost everything you did. He would also give you a lot of affection when you were dating.

He doesn't show any overly Yandere tendencies. Maven wouldn't want to upset his love.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

You should take the initiative... Or actually just be a little nice so Maven would be fallen in love...

It would start with friendship. Maven would be your friend in the beginning. And it would soon turn into dating when you have similar interests... Maven is a Stalker lol.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Maven would have no interest in people who weren't his family or you. To others, he would seem quiet and distant...

So you could say that...

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Crying.... Maven would really cry... He would make you feel bad and guilty. After all, he has your best interests at heart and will do everything for you.

In the worst case, Maven would tie you down... He would never want to hurt you... But if you really piss him off, his grip can get really tight.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Okay, if you didn't try to divorce you could live normally for the most part... Your freedom would be more limited and Maven would be overprotective... But for the most part you would keep your freedom.

However, if you tried to leave him, you wouldn't have much freedom. Maven would not want you to have contact with people outside of his family. And you shouldn't be able to move around so freely.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

As long you don't try leave him or hurt his family everything would be finey~

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Absolutley not... You are his life... Maven can't and won't go on without you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Maven would never let you go... But he would feel bad if you were sad.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Maven's parents were almost always at work... Which meant that random nannies and her older brother took care of Maven's upbringing. Maven's older brother is a yandere so he thought this was normal. Maven tried to ask his parents about it.

Maven: Is it normal that I want to murder all the people my crush is close to?

Maven's mother: *doesn't look up from the work computer* Hmmmmmh yeah... crushes are nice... Very normal... Maven I have work now...

And it's not made easier by the fact that Maven's parents are the type who would never admit that there is something wrong with their parenting style.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Maven would think that in the beginning it would be normal. You need time to get used to it... But if it continued, he would feel terrible and worry a lot.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Maven collects things from you... He also has two Y/N body pillows... Much more clingy than a normal yandere.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Maven's studies... Even if he wanted to, he couldn't be with you 24/7. But what you don't know is that Maven has installed a tracking device on your clothes. Just to be sure.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Depends... Maven wouldn't hurt you because of the penalties. Maybe if you had hurt yourself and he had to take care of you fast.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Maven would go to hell and back if it meant getting your love. At first he thought of starting a cult with you because you are so godly... But he couldn't stand the other members.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Maven would rather die himself~

[papabearbobbynash]

So i want to share some thoughts here, because I've been spiraling until now and I'm not sure I will ever stop until the episode airs. About the bathena fire, I really want to believe is the opening scene of the episode considering Bobby is in his LAFD hoodie sleeping on the couch in entrance hall (???) of their house, something that clearly feels displaced. The following would be we watch him wake up from said dream and then the 9-1-1 intro comes. Would connects the audience with latest episode and set to them that Bobby isn't well. However, the bts of Athena in her black leather jacket with a gun in her hand is preventing me from thinking it's only a nightmare, because i don't think they would have time to introduce a random call in the middle of the chaos of storylines happening in this season, unlest they are short calls) but also in those bts Athena doesn't not have her badge at all (different from the S4 snyper chase), it could be due not being necessary on the scene (close up) but it's an interesting point to analyse.

And this makes me think about the conveniently unwrapped loose of the cartel situation, because showing that to the audience feels like it's a narrative choice.

So i'm lead to believe it's either it's a nightmare and something else happens to Bobby that set Athena in rampage, or the fire is actually happening in bathena house and we are actually being mislead into thinking the fire was a preview mislead purposely, because of the previews misleading us last episode. when i said i was spiraling i mean it My current favorite theories i've seen around are:

1 - Bobby has a brain injury

To me this seems like a very plausible theory where Bobby has a brain injury from the car accident in the desert and since he didn't get check, he is only now showing signs. Also fits to how this season seems to be playing with the characters minds and mentality (Chimney hallucinating with Doug due a disease, Eddie daydreaming about Shannon after seeing Kim). A brain injury would explain Bobby having hallucinations (if it's the case with bathena house on fire) and such injury probably contribute to his mental state that clearly downgrading. However I didn't find a reason to why would Athena be on the same "mode" she was when trying to catch the sniper in S4.

2 - Bathena house is actually on fire

At first I though the writers would be evil and play a "Bobby accidentally set the house on fire when making cookies" pretty much throwing a callback to 7x08 and making an even better job triggering himself, but In the 7x08 previews, seems like the fire started on the yard's door, like something was thrown on it and went boom. So maybe there are some shenanigans with the cartel. Since Herman got hurt in the car accident and they stole Bobby's car (what is a plot tool to keep both Bobby and Amir in the desert, but it can also be used for later). Also the fact the accident happened after Herman told to the guys both Amir and Bobby were with him is conveniently fitting for a narrative like this. I mean the guy got on an accident and got arrested so maybe there is some revenge in Bobby's plot, but not as we thought. This would also explain why Athena seems to be in chasing mode (with that face lol she looks really not in the best mood). Because not even lord will save those man from Athena, if they're the reason Bobby ends in the hospital

Another thing that contributes to this theories is how she seems to be approaching Amir. Could be to help Bobby with his mental state for sure (i would prefer if it was the case) but the thing is the way she put it "I think my husband is in danger" i feel like she would do different if it was to reach out Amir about Bobby's mental state. It feels like she is voicing a thought and her best source of info regarding that is Amir, and he also might be a potential target (since y'know he shot that guy on the road).

3 - Coma!Bobby / injured on the big fire from bts

This one is quite short because we have so little details regarding what that fire is, but this is more an assumption based on the show history.

So we have that big fire, and Bobby seems to be working still in some bts, but his mentality is in a place where he believes he doesn't deserve to be alive at all. People are assuming this means he is well, but, guys, this man did bottle up his feelings for a long time, he surely might be trying doing now. Would also be lovely to the team perceive the strange behavior or their captain. Anyway theory here is that he ends up in coma after being hurt due saving someone in that fire, be a civilian or one of the team (for extra angst as Tim seems to be in the mood this season lol). And it happens the fire was criminal and then it explains why Athena is in chasing mode in some bts. Also explain other pictures such as the one of Bobby with the ladder behind, that could very well be from before the whole thing happens.

Anyway what you guys think, do y'all have any other theories around that seems fit the content we have? Particularly i think those theories doesn't explore much the healing of Bobby's current mentality, mostly because I believe (hope) this is going to be extended to S8, where Bobby's arc is to deconstruct that mentality he is rn.

[tiredcowpoke]

ON THE TIP

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader Request: Not a request. Blurb: Away from camp, you finally manage to tell Arthur something that you have been meaning to for a long while. Warnings:  Mentions of a previously abusive relationship (not graphic), angst, but ultimately a lot of fluff and emotional stuff.  Note: This is really self-indulgent. I had a spark of an idea and it really took off...somewhere. lol I hope you enjoy this sweet, little thing.

Evening was starting to set, casting the area in a warm glow as the sun gradually dipped down behind the treeline.

You sat near the fire you had made, the bedroll not quite giving you much comfort but the tree truck at your back at least allowed you that extra support. The day’s heat still lingered, even with you choosing to sit a little further back from the fire to avoid overheating yourself. It was going to be one of those nights.

Still, you took these moments when you could.

It was getting harder and harder to pull Arthur away from gang business, as much as you respected the role he played and his duties. Yet, you had long observed that he was overworked, almost the first person up on the list to clean up other people’s messes that reasonably could have been handled before his involvement. It was one of the more common things he complained about when he’d finally settle in for the night, if he wasn’t coming in late at night and gently rolling you onto your side so he could slip in behind you on the cot.

So, when the camp seemed quiet and Arthur approached you with a quip about getting out for a while, it was hard to tell him ‘no.’

Leaving was good for you, too. A break from the camp–the chores, worries, and dramatics, depending on the day usually. It also gave you some comfort to know that you didn’t have to worry about Arthur, either. He seemed more relaxed during these moments, and it allowed you to relax too. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were more intune with his emotions when he was in camp. It was something that started to happen as you got closer, and only continued beyond that point. You could see the stress in his brow, feel the tension in his shoulders when he’d pull you into him near a campfire or when he wrapped his arms around you at night.

It felt a little easier to breathe when you finally got away from camp, sometimes. Even if it was for an hour.

Though, the sound of hoofbeats and some rustling in the bushes ahead of you pulled you from your thoughts. Sure enough, you saw the familiar horse and equally as familiar rider, Arthur taking his time to settle his horse beside yours. A rabbit hung, skinned, on the side of his saddle. You figured that was dinner for the night, which was fine with you.

“Think we ain’t the only people out here today,” Arthur commented, turning toward you as you glanced up from where you were carving a slice from an apple, “Animals are kind of scarce and I don’t wanna go stompin’ off into the bush.”

“There’s enough here to get us through the night,” you said, finally cutting off the piece of apple and held it out toward him as he approached.

Arthur muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ as he took a bite from it after slipping down to sit beside you against the tree trunk. Naturally, you found yourself leaning against his side as you continued to cut away at another piece of apple for yourself, allowing the silence to settle as Arthur’s voice was replaced by the light wind in the trees and the crackling of the wood on the fire. You felt him slip his arm around your back, hand coming back to rest on your arm.

It wasn’t that Arthur didn’t show affection toward you around camp, but in private he allowed you in closer like this. The kisses were slower, lingered a little more, and neither of you were rushed to be anywhere or doing anything. You could still remember how long it took for both of you to feel awkward like this. Weary and haunted by bad experiences, you didn’t particularly let people close. Arthur seemed the same way, only mentioning his past relationships once or twice early on but it was clear that he had backed away from the concept.

Yet, things were just…different.

Of course, you knew who Arthur was. You knew who you were, too. You had seen his uglier sides, the violence that the life he led pulled out of him. It had pulled things out of you, too, that you weren’t proud of. Yet, you saw the quieter side of him, too. When he had his nose buried in his journal or was listening to other stories the camp members would tell around the fire at night. How he talked to Jack, the other women around camp. The way he acted around you, too, the awkward friendship that shifted to a genuine kindness and fondness, the shared glances and inside jokes, the way he cupped your face when he kissed you for the first time.

You noticed a few complexities about him, probably more than Arthur saw in himself.

Given the violence that you had experienced in your past relationships, the yelling, fighting, sneered insults that still sat under your skin in some places, Arthur kind of took you off guard. If he was as rough as he came across sometimes, perhaps you could have expected the path your relationship would go. It would’ve been simple: you would’ve thought about him a certain way, he would’ve burst that bubble, and that’d be it. You knew Arthur had tried from time to time in the beginning, when things were new and uncertain. Quickly thrown up guards and pointless fights and arguments that’d never stay too long, in the end.

You shifted, stretching out a leg as you tried to will yourself back to the current moment.

“If your eyes weren’t open, I’d think you fell asleep,” Arthur commented, making you let out a small hum as you grinned softly.

“Something about places like this push me right into my head,” you replied.

“Me too.”

“Your thoughts are probably more interesting than mine,” you said as you shifted somewhat to tuck your knife away as you finished off the apple.

“Wouldn’t say that,” he muttered.

“You wouldn’t feel the need to write them down if you didn’t think they weren’t interesting in some way,” you said, leaning back into his side with a sigh. “I know you don’t think much of yourself, but you’re more interesting than you let on.”

“Interestin’ in like a third limb or a weird animal, maybe,” he returned around a small huff–you knew better than to take it as genuine humor. Not wholly, at least. Another wall he insisted on putting up, as much as you saw through it at this point.

“More like a puzzle or a riddle.”

“Hope the answer is worth it.”

You frowned, brow furrowing. You knew this aspect of Arthur was an uphill battle, one that he may never win, but a part of you always felt obligated to argue otherwise. Which was probably why you found yourself shifting back so you could swing your leg over his legs, straddling his lap so you could look directly at him. You couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at your lips at the surprised look that settled in his expression, though his hands coming up to wrap around your lower back had you getting a little more comfortable. You cupped the sides of his jaw, a good-natured smile settling on your lips.

“I didn’t follow you out here so you could talk like that about yourself all night,” you stated, looking semi-sternly into his eyes before your expression softened, “But…I don’t really care about solving the riddle, so to say. I’m not here to…I don’t know, solve anything.”

“Well, I’m wishin’ I understood you a little better right now,” Arthur muttered, but the light playfulness was hard to miss. You let him pull you into a quick kiss, his free arm pulling you in closer so your bodies brushed a little more.

The shift in tone was a bit of a reassurance, but you knew you weren’t done. Really, there was something sitting heavy on the tip of your tongue. It kept appearing more and more whenever you were truly alone with him like this. The words were there, you knew what they were, yet there was a fear in you. You had said those words once before, to the wrong person, and there was that guarded part of you that feared you would do so again. Yet, everything about your relationship with Arthur seemed to rebuttal most doubts you had.

…You just needed to know if you were alone in the feeling.

Pulling back somewhat from the kiss, you leaned back somewhat to look over his face. His eyes seemed to search your own, a slight pinch between his eyebrows as you looked at him without speaking as you could feel a rush of thoughts battering against your skull. Yet, a part of you knew how you wanted to go about this.

“The last time I was in a situation like this…well, you know what that was like,” you said, dropping your gaze for a few moments. “I got told I was…many things. None of them too nice. I was told I wouldn’t ever find someone who’d…actually want me. I believed those things for a while, for a long while. I didn’t…intend for that to shift, it just happened…”

You let out a small sigh against the way your heart was racing, the momentary confidence you had only a minute ago starting to ebb out. Still, you couldn’t pull things back in now. You lifted your gaze back up to meet his own, smiling softly.

“You remember…a couple months ago, back before everything got thrown on its head? I got that…terrible little bullet wound?”

“Yeah,” Arthur replied, the look of confusion still not leaving his expression but he nodded lightly, “Never heard you holler like that before when Grimshaw pulled that out.”

“Not…not exactly talking about that, but it was a couple days after,” you continued, tilting your head somewhat thoughtfully. “I was feeling…really sorry for myself. I don’t know if I told you, but I kicked myself for such a long time that you found me like that. Over an injury, no less. Yet…you seemed to know exactly what to say. What’d help, what’d make me feel better. I realized after that…that most people I’ve had in my life, they only seemed to know how to do the opposite. A few of them purposefully doing so. I realized something, then, and…it kind of scared me, but I know it’s true…”

“Darlin’...” Arthur started, a hand coming up to rest against your cheek, his voice soft, but you knew you just had to say it.

“I realized back then that I’m in love with you, Arthur,” you stated, fighting the urge to shut your eyes or look away. “I love you. I just never really found the right words, but I need you to know that.”

Arthur didn’t say anything for an uncomfortable amount of time, seeming to almost process that. You couldn’t help the way your stomach tightened, the sting of rejection starting to prick at your eyes. He didn’t try to move you, however, hands still grasping onto you. Finally, he looked you in the eyes again.

“That’s really true?”

You nodded, trying to keep your voice even as you spoke. “I tried to convince myself that it was something else for a good while, but that feeling’s just grown harder to ignore as time went on.”

“...I ain’t…” he started, shaking his head, “I didn’t ever think someone’d feel that way ‘bout me again.”

“Well, I do,” you confirmed, swallowing thickly as you gripped his shoulders somewhat as if he’d support you crashing down if he said what you feared he was going to. “If…if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. Just…say it. I made my mind up a long while ago, so trying to convince me out of it will just hurt more.”

“Sweetheart…” he started, reaching out to cup the side of your face again as he forced you to look at him. “I…know I don’t deserve a lot of things, I don’t deserve you. You could leave, fall for a better man. Yet, when I’m with you…”

“Arthur…” you started, ready to remind him that going this route would just hurt you more, yet you knew what was coming and it was choking out the words that wanted to get out.

“You make me happy,” he continued, “I know I might not be able to give you the same feelin’ all the time, but…I love you, too. Don’t think I’d ever get to say it, but I do.”

The relief had you almost crumpling, your mind taking a moment to catch up. You almost didn’t realize you had started crying until you felt Arthur pull you into him, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you shook from the strength it took to not completely break down and just really send the wrong message. Yet, you found yourself wrapping your arms around him, pressing your face into his jacket. All those years you told yourself you were unlovable, that you were better off for it, and yet the opposite was staring you in the face.

It was a lot to process. Yet, despite the tears that were on your cheeks and stung at your eyes, you shifted so you could pull Arthur into a kiss. He responded instantly, holding you close as you let the gesture chase out the doubt that had settled heavily over you in the last couple moments.

“Scared the hell out of me, Morgan,” you muttered once the kiss was broken, Arthur pressing his forehead against your own.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he muttered in the space between you two, “Won’t be the last time I’ll scare you, I know, but I’m not goin’ anywhere for as long as you’ll have me.”

“As long as you’ll have me, too,” you replied in return, letting out a soft chuckle. “Say it again?”

“I love you, darlin’,” he said after a moment, “Have for a while now.”

“I love you, too.”

[candycandy00]

Ahem, can I request a Dabi x innocent nun fanfic?💦 I mean never saw this concept before so maybe get your interest? Love your stories 🫶

Thank you for the kind comments! Please keep in mind I know next to nothing about nuns or the Catholic religion in general. I was raised a Baptist lol.

Smut. 18+. I’m not even sure what else to warn about.

You’re halfway through your evening prayers, kneeling in front of the altar with your rosary clasped in your hands, when you hear the doors of the church open and shut. Without even looking, you know who it is, and you double up on your prayers. 

For weeks now, the mysterious black-haired stranger has been coming in when the church is mostly empty, late at night, and taking a seat in the very back pew. He wears dark clothing and a black medical mask, and he seems to be trying to keep a low profile. 

Something about him scares you. Maybe it’s the haunted look in his beautiful eyes, the air of danger that seems to float around him like a cloud, or the way he looks at you as if you’re a tiny mouse under the gaze of a hawk. Or maybe, you’re afraid of him because he stirs feelings in you that are unbecoming of a nun. 

Once, you tried approaching him. You welcomed him to the church and asked if there was anything you could help him with. He’d looked up at you, and your breath had caught in your throat. Those eyes were so much more beautiful up close. Then he’d reached up and pulled the mask down, revealing horrific scars covering the bottom half of his face, and said, “No thanks, sister. I can’t be saved.” 

When you recoiled in shock, he grinned, and you thought you’d seen the devil himself. You hurried away, retreating into a back room. 

For the next few days, you avoided going into the church alone in the evenings. The man had terrified you, but he had also intrigued you. Gradually, you’d worked up the nerve to start going back into the church for your evening prayers. And when you saw him again, you smiled and gave him a nod, though you kept your distance. 

He’d seemed surprised to see you alone in the church again, but he’d pulled the mask down again and returned the smile. Since then, he’s all you can think about. 

You’ve never known the touch of a man. You’re a nun after all. But lately you’ve even been dreaming about the stranger. The dreams are shameful, and you wake up with damp panties, the proof of your sinful thoughts. 

You haven’t told anyone about him, partly out of shame and partly out a fear that someone else will approach him and he’ll stop coming in. You still can’t figure out why he comes at all. He doesn’t seem interested in religion at all. 

Today, you stand up from your kneeling position on the carpeted floor and turn around to look at him. You smile your usual smile and give a small wave, then wait for him to smile back. 

He doesn’t. Instead he just stares, a look in his eyes you haven’t seen before. Then, he raises one hand and curls a finger, motioning for you to come to him. 

You hesitate, surprised by the sudden invitation. This is the first time he’s initiated any sort of contact. You glance around the church to make sure no one else is around, then make you way toward the back. 

The stranger is sitting casually in the pew, his arms draped across the back of the pew on either side of him and his legs comfortably wide apart. You can’t help thinking that you could easily slip between his thighs and sit on his lap. You shake your head. You shouldn’t be thinking of things like that! 

He reaches to his mask and pulls it off, revealing that horrifying yet beautiful face. He watches your reaction, and when you don’t recoil like last time, he finally smiles. “Not scared of my face this time?” 

“I wasn’t scared last time,” you say, “I was just surprised.” 

He tilts his head to one side. “You shouldn’t lie, sister. Can’t you nuns get in trouble for that?”

“We nuns are human. We are prone to sin, just like anyone else,” you tell him. 

“Really?” he asks, his eyes moving up and down your body in an obvious way. “And what other sins have you been prone to lately?”

You turn away from him by reflex, as if he can see through your clothes to the growing wetness between your legs. You hear him laugh behind you, so you look back at him. He pats the pew beside him and says, “Why don’t you sit, sister?”

Your heart is pounding rapidly. One part of you wants to run away and hide until this man is gone. The other part wants him to ravage you right here in the church. Where are these sinful thoughts coming from?

After several seconds of hesitation, you finally sit down in the pew beside him. He moves his arms down from the back of the pew and scoots closer to you, so close that you can feel warmth from his body. You fidget, clutching your rosary as if it will give you the strength to resist him. But you already know it’s no use. 

He reaches over with one hand and slides up the bottom of your black robe, pulling it up to your waist, revealing your curvy thighs covered in black silk thigh high stockings. Above them, a pair of black lace panties. You’d never worn things like that until a few weeks ago, when you had the sudden urge to feel sexy and bought these on a whim. They were your secret indulgence, and your secret shame. 

Now, this stranger was staring at them, his eyebrows raised as if surprised. “Wow, do nuns usually wear stuff like this?”

You’re so embarrassed that you can’t speak. So you shake your head “no” while looking at the floor. Then you feel his warm hand on your thigh, and you stiffen, letting your eyes fall on that scarred hand, rubbing upwards, slipping between your legs, and finally groping your most private spot through the lace. 

You grab his wrist and try to push it away, your face becoming red and flushed as you squeak out a weak cry of “Stop!”

He doesn’t budge, his hand still massaging you. “Do you really want me to stop, sister? Because your panties are awfully wet.”

You freeze in place, then slowly let go of his wrist. “I… I don’t know what I want,” you say. 

“I think I do,” he says in a low voice, then he slides his hand inside your panties, pushing one finger into your folds to stroke your clit. 

The shock of the pleasure makes you jolt and cry out, your legs automatically opening to give his hand more access. You’ve never purposely touched your clit before, being so determined to avoid sinful thoughts. You had no idea how sensitive it was. And now this man was rubbing it, over and over without pausing, smearing your wetness all over it in the process. 

You gasp and turn your body toward him, gripping his jacket in your hands, shivering as the pleasure takes you. Then, a great burst of pleasure explodes within you, and you bury your face in his chest to stifle a moan.  

As you pant and come back to your senses, he pulls his hand away and grins at you. “Was that your first orgasm?”

You nod weakly, still clutching him. Suddenly, he pushes you onto your back, and jerks your robe up and over your head, using it to restrain your arms. You’re not wearing a bra, you rarely do, so your full breasts are bare before him. He uses one hand to hold your arms above your head, though you’re not struggling at all, and the other to grope your breast. 

“You are one sexy nun,” he says, then releases his grip on you so that he can sit up and open his pants. You don’t move. You don’t want to move. You have no desire to stop this now. All you want is for him to take you right now, to make you his. 

You glance down at his erect cock just as he moves on top of you, then you feel him shove it inside you. It hurts. It’s too big. You’re tearing. But you still want this. You still want him. He slowly pulls out, then thrusts back in, this time going deeper. After the third thrust, you feel like your body is getting used to him, and pain gives way to more pleasure. 

His hands are holding onto your hips, using them as leverage to keep thrusting deeper and deeper. You arch your back, unable to focus on anything but the feel of his cock inside you. You look up at his face, and he’s watching your breasts bounce as he pumps in and out. Then he’s groping them again, making an animalistic growling sound, leaning down to take one nipple in his hot mouth, his tongue driving you crazy. 

Your first orgasm was quickly followed by your second, and you moaned loudly as your eyes slid closed. Then you felt it, hot liquid shooting into you as the stranger pushed as deeply inside you as possible. 

Afterward, he slowly pulled out and stared down at your gasping, shuddering form.  Then he said, “Have you ever been kissed?”

You blink up at him in surprise. What a strange time to ask that. You shake your head. “No, I haven’t,” you say. 

He laughs. “So you lost your virginity before you had your first kiss? What a slutty little nun!” 

But before you can say anything in response, he leans forward and kisses you on the lips. It’s a strangely sweet and gentle kiss, and when he pulls away, he’s grinning. 

He stands up and buttons his pants. “I’ll be back, sister. Be ready for me.”

“Wait!” you call as he walks toward the door. “Can you tell me your name?”

He looks at you for a moment, as if thinking about something. Then he says, “It’s Touya.” And with that, he walks out of the church, leaving you alone. 

[trulytiredhermit]

I read your Ravio/Legend section and👍👍👍 gud shit uhuh.

I think the dynamic of Legend and Ravio and their close good friend/roommate that they're weirdly possessive of, lol.

Ravio's someone I'm particularly interested in because on one hand I can see legend doing all of the vaguely threatening 'you're staying here and we'll take care of you, you have no other option' while Ravio goes along with it and tries to make it nicer for you (ie giving you choices on things or rather making it seem like you have a choice) so that you like him more. On the other hand I can absolutely see him blocking the door like 'you're not leaving💜'.

Also how would that type of thing happen?

Were you a neighbor that leg grew particularly fond of, and eventually the visits to his house get longer and longer-- only to mysteriously stop after one particular journey. Were you the one persistent enough to continuously come back even after he told you not to, only to seal your fate once the hero of legend grew too fond of you to risk losing you again. Maybe you even went out on a journey of your own to get Ravio because you knew that leg needed all the support you can get only for the two of you to bond on the way back and Ravio approaches legend like 'hey uhh...'.

Maybe you just needed a place to stay and Ravio was like 'I got just the place for you!', only for the first to approach and find out that Ravio's infamous pricing extends to rent as well. Don't worry though! He'll let you work it off in the shop! Soon you're pretty much spending 24/7 in the house between sleeping and working long ass hours you can't leave if you're constantly working in order to meet rent. Legend, while initially reluctant, eventually comes to appreciate the extra person to come home to, especially since he knows that Ravio isn't as lonely anymore since you came along.

Or you and Leg just bond while the events of Lu take place, only to go to his Hyrule and just...not come back. You can't escape if you have no clue where anything is! Which leads me to the next point.

With the 'Legend, Ravio, and their close good friend' trope, I think it would be funny if the villagers just...didn't acknowledge the blatant creepy behavior going on. Maybe your alarm bells ring on said behavior, but since the two allow you outside, you don't really think much of it; until you do try to seek outside help, only to be stared at by the villagers like you're crazy and either Legend or Ravio just lead you back inside like 'haha yeah they do that sometimes'. Now, whenever you get too close to the outskirts of the village the townspeople tell Legend, if not they just bring you back to the house themselves.

Listen, Legend is the hero of Legend, he's saved more kingdoms than he can count. Plus, he's best friends with his Zelda (or if you're going by popular hc, he is royalty himself). There's nothing you can do to make anyone think too badly of him or Ravio, who was here long before you ever were.

I was wondering if you had any more scraps👀👀

*I…

Bestie

YOU PREPARED ME A WHOLE MEAL! OH MY LORD!

I.LOVE.THIS

Like you’re so big brained, I could never.

Just as a person who also loves Ravio and Legend this is 😮‍💨🤌 chef’s kiss.*

————————————————————————

So, I think for this to work out the best way possible and make somewhat the most sense I would agree with the whole Reader is just a stubborn neighbor who would NOT take no for an answer when Legend was going through some bad times.

Reader is also the overly friendly neighbor.

In every game of Zelda the Link in question has to always help others to gain something that will aid them in their quest.

Which if you look at it as a whole is kinda messed up.

Like you wouldn’t just give the object to the dude who’s trying to save the world???

Anyways, Reader was the opposite of those people.

Reader constantly was checking in on Legend, asking if he ever needed something or just telling him things they heard around the town. Giving him home cooked meals to take on his long journeys so that he can have something to eat.

Reader makes sure that Legend always remembers that their house is open to them.

They really shouldn’t have

Over the years, Legend falls hard for the stubborn and kind Reader.

Becoming infatuated with the worried face that greets him every time he comes back home after an adventure, the one that checks him over for injures and makes promises to fix up his favorite meal that night.

The one who actually cares for Legend in a way others haven’t.

And oh how he cares for them in a return.

Somewhere down the line, Reader turns from his caring neighbor to his caring roommate.

Something had happened to Readers house, it had mysteriously caught fire and burnt down whilst Reader was out.

Leaving Reader with no home and no where to go.

That’s when the hero swooped in to save the day.

Little does Reader know, it was all planned.

Legend of course had some rules that he put in to play once Reader finally moved in.

1) don’t be out too late

“It so dangerous out when it gets dark, I think I’d worry myself half to death if you weren’t home before sunset.”

Tell him where you’re going

“I’ve made a great deal of enemies on my adventures, I fear they may try to target you to get at me. This way I can you’re safe when I come home and you’re not there.”

Remain close to the town

“I’ve been all across the land [Name], I know all that’s out there. I’d feel so much better if you’d keep to the surrounding area around the town when you went out to collect your supplies for baking.”

Should you need anything, just ask him or at least let him accompany you in your errands

“I can get you anything you need if it’s too far from the village, it isn’t a problem. And for things you need in the village I won’t mind tagging a long, I want to spend time with you before I’m sent off on another quest.”

There were a few other rules, but these were the main ones.

With Legend’s reasoning for each one, Reader didn’t feel too bothered by them.

As time passed, everything seemed to be going great for Legend and Reader but then something happened.

A new comer made their way in.

Ravio.

While out on a stroll one day, Reader just happened to come across a strange man adorned with a purple rabbit hood and purplish blue scarf.

Perhaps he was passed out on the road or something or seemed to be lost.

Either way, being such a kind person, Reader offers the stranger their assistance and to guide them back to town.

Ravio accepts and the two talk and even bond a little on their way to the town.

Ravio mentions him not having a place to stay and Reader, with their bleeding heart, offers that he could possible stay with them.

Which is when Ravio learns of Reader’s roommate, Legend.

Who, once Ravio and Reader get to home, is missing.

So Reader comes up with the bright idea to split up and find Legend and so Ravio and Reader search the town for him.

Ravio ends up finding Legend in the sanctuary and takes him back to the house. Soon after Legend wakes up and Ravio has introduced himself, Reader comes back home happy to see Legend safe.

The three talk and Reader reveals that Ravio needs a place to stay and says that they’d have enough room for a third roomie.

Legend, of course, can never truly say no to Reader (especially when they use their puppy eyes and promise to cook up Legend’s favorite meal and spend time with him).

Legend also feels a sense of ease being next to Ravio, like he some how knows him.

In the end, Ravio stays.

The events of A Link Between Worlds unfold and Ravio and Reader grow closer together throughout that time.

Of course, Legend would never let Reader accompany him on his dangerous journey, no matter how much Reader begged.

So Reader stays with Ravio and helps him out in his shop. Thus letting the two grow closer.

And as Legend stops by from time to time, even him and Ravio begin to grow a bond.

He finds himself thankful that Reader has someone to be with while he’s away on his adventure. He knows how lonely it can get sometimes and how much Reader can worry about him.

It also helps that Legend’s beastly jealously never rears its head when Ravio is with Reader.

Somehow, Legend is okay with the fact that Ravio has been growing closer and closer with Reader. Whereas with others he would surely run them off.

After all who would dare challenge the hero of Hyrule?

Perhaps it is at the end of A Link Between Worlds, when Yuga is finally defeated and truths have been brought to light about who Ravio truly is, that Ravio comes to Legend with the offer of a “lifetime”.

To share Reader.

Ravio would stay in Hyrule instead of returning to Lorule and continue to live with Reader and Legend where they could both romantically pursue Reader.

After all, it is a dangerous world and two heroes are much better than one. (Even while cowardly, Ravio is still willing to defend Reader).

Legend agrees to the deal.

Reader’s fate has been sealed.

Legend and Ravio return to the town as heroes and are now very respected people within Hyrule for having saved the land. (After all, Ravio did help Legend).

More importantly they return to their beloved Reader, who smothers them in hugs and checks both men over for injuries.

It is then that Ravio and Legend tell Reader about Ravio’s temporary stay becoming permanent.

Reader is ecstatic and they can’t help but let slip to Ravio and Legend that they shouldn’t worry about the space becoming too cramped because once their house is rebuilt they’d be moving out.

Legend forgot about… that.

He and Ravio share a glance whilst Reader helps out things away and sets the table.

It seems they have more talking and planning to do.

Legend and Ravio start sabotaging Reader’s plans.

For some reason, castle guards won’t let Reader leave the town to enter the surrounding forest to gather supplies.

Meaning Reader no longer has a way to make money, as they would collect supplies and fruit to bake goods to sell in the town.

(Legend and Ravio cashed in a few favors with Zelda. They worry for them they had told Zelda, “They’re so stubborn sometimes and too kind for their own good. Anyone could take advantage of them, we just want to keep them safe after what we’ve been through.”

Zelda agreed to their plea and whether she believed them or not truly didn’t matter, after all they had done so much for the kingdom. Why shouldn’t they be rewarded in return?).

No one else really needed a helping hand around the village so that took out any sort of side income Reader could make.

So Ravio with his caring heart, said he’d let Reader help him out in his shop.

But it didn’t matter that Reader was making money now.

Any builder Reader had tried to talk to about fixing up their house always told them they were either too busy or that it would cost too much.

“Going out is still dangerous these days with all those monsters still roaming around.” They’d say, “We’re sorry [Name] but we truly can’t help you out right now.”

Reader is never given an answer on when they’d even be able to start building.

(Legend had talked to the builders earlier. Buying them off to put off building Reader’s house for as long as they could. “I’m planning on asking them to move in permanently, I wish to court them.” He would truthfully tell the workers, “but they feel as though they’ve overstayed their welcome and I can’t shoo that though from their head.”

The workers agree to put off the work. After all, who wants to stand in the way of young love?

Soon word spreads around town and the whole town is helping to push Reader even further into the men’s arms clutches.

And even if they were the occasional person who objected to the act, who found the men’s behavior suspicious, they would never act upon their suspicions.

It would be dangerous to attempt to go against the man who’s defeated Ganon and Yuga. Not to mention that there’s two now.)

Eventually as Reader laments to Ravio and Legend about feeling like they’ll never get their home back, the two men comfort Reader with soothing, honeyed words.

“You can stay here as long as you need to [Name].” Ravio would say, gently rubbing circles onto Reader’s back as he sat next to them.

“In fact, why don’t you just stay here permanently [Name].” Legend would join in, caressing Reader’s hands.

“We’ve been speaking and needles to say, me and Ravio both care for you deeply. If you would allow us to, we would like to have a chance at courting you my dear.”

And with how sweet these men have been to you, how could you refuse. After all, you had grown to care for them too.

Why hadn’t you refused?

Did your choice even matter in the end?

No, even if you had refused, things would have turned out the same.

Your fate had been sealed long ago.

As like before, Legends old rules had remained in place.

But newer ones had been added that caused a slight cause for concern.

Don’t leave the house unless you’re with at least one of them

“We just want to keep you safe, my gem. The world is so dangerous out there. We can still visit the places you wish to go.”

“I feel like I’d die if you even tripped and scrapped your knee my dear. I must be with you at all times to make sure you’re safe.”

And so you were always accompanied by one of your lovers. If the townspeople took notice of this they said nothing.

Don’t speak with others outside of work

“I’ve heard there’ve been more bandit attacks going on, and with you working with me in the shop they might target you. I can’t afford to lose my darling gem.”

“Is it so bad that I wish to be selfish for once my dear? I won’t allow for someone else to steal you away, bandit or otherwise I will protect what’s mine.”

Now, even if you tried to have a conversation with someone they ignored you, refusing to even meet your eyes at times.

Or did they simply ignore the dangerous presences at your sides.

Eventually the rules got even stranger and a fear began to fester.

Don’t try to run away

“Oh darling gem, you’re so much safer here. Of course you still have choices! We’re not keeping you here captive, we just have… rules to help keep you safe, that’s all. We just love you so much.”

“ My dear, you know we simply do this out of love. Besides where would you run to? Your home is here, the villagers will be if no help to you and neither will Princess Zelda. All they would do is simply bring you back to our loving arms.”

And Legend had been right, the townspeople were not afraid to snitch upon you to Ravio or Legend if they saw you out of the house without them.

You were sure that they would even drag you back to that dreaded house if you had attempted to escape.

Don’t leave the house

“Just say it my gem, anything that you desire and I shall fetch it for you. Those berries and fruits you bake with i can bring you whenever you desire. I simply wish to pamper you and treat you like the glorious gem that you are.”

“There’s nothing for you out there anymore my dear. Why can’t you see that we are the only ones to truly care for you. Has anyone shown up? Has anyone brought forth questions about you? No. We are the only ones who can love you as much as you deserve. We are the only ones you need, my dear.”

You felt like you were going crazy.

But, things could have been worse you supposed.

At least they were kind to you, showering you with love and affection. Treating you with such high regard that you had never been given before.

Ravio, always the sweetheart, even braved the forest to gather fruits, berries, and other supplies so that you could bake like you used to.

Legend regaled you with tales of his adventures him when he got back home. He would been grace you with the most beautiful music should you ask for it.

Besides, maybe they were right. Th village that you had lived so long in, the villagers that you had always been so kind to, had betrayed you and left you on your own.

At least you had Legend and Ravio.

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*Gosh, this one REALLY got away from me. Honestly I feel like writing a ficlet about this now. Which you can probably see where it started to become one near the end 😂

Anyways I hope my ramblings were satisfactory and in all seriousness you might be getting a small fic out of this because I’ve just got so many ideas now and I LOVE this.

Now I’m gonna go to bed cause it’s like 2:00am 😂)

[always-andromeda]

HELURRRRR I hope ur having a wonderful day!!!! Or night BUTTTTTT now hear me out I was listening to hellfire from hunchback of Norte Dame what if the riddler(Dano) felt that way of the reader 👀👀👀 but the reader also felt the same way? If yk what I mean but if u don’t or can’t write that’s fine 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 I hope you have good day/ night :))))

Hellfire | Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

Word Count | 893

Author’s Note | I need him to pine over me. I need him to feel the most eerie obsessive possessiveness over me. And I need him to feel soooo guilty. Edward Nashton is not a want anymore he’s a need. Also, even though my requests were closed by the time I got this, I listened to the song and got such a little burst of inspiration so I couldn’t just be like “ahaha no.” So indulge in my fantasy and pretend this boy wouldn’t absolutely die over having a one night stand lol.

Warnings | allusions to smut near the end, Edward is unhinged and possessive, nothing else I can think of!

How dare you look at him like that. Like he could ever mean anything more to you than what a fraction of a night could offer. The way you sway hypnotizes him. The bleary eyed glazed over, weary haze that seems to hold everyone in Gotham hostage. It's a look he's become so familiar with since you started working in his building. If you weren’t so eye-catching, Edward Nashton might not have thought twice before passing right over you. After all, you're the only reason he came to this godforsaken bar.

He might’ve allowed you to escape. But you had luck on your side. Or perhaps a curse. Depends on your persuasion.

Either way, creatures like you cannot possibly comprehend the darkness that engulfs this city; the darkness that he will eradicate. He will set you free.

You don’t go for guys like him. Can’t tolerate nervous little outcasts who stare from across bars at pretty people, imagining what they’d do instead of just doing it. Maybe if daylight were peeking through the windows and he was at his day job, he’d stay like that. But it seems the shroud of night gives him courage to properly approach you.

“Could I get you a drink?”

“No,” your smile is tight and close lipped. It signals to him that you’re smart. That he’d need to work a little harder to see the real grin that he bets is right underneath the surface.

Edward muses, “Good choice.”

“Hm?” You heard him make some sort of sound. Of course he mumbles to himself. Even if he'd had a drink or two, he was still the same nervous Edward you'd barely spoken to more than a handful of times in the break room.

He clears his throat, “Nothing. I was just thinking…it’s a good choice.”

You laugh once, not finding an ounce of amusement other than in the way he fidgets with the hem of his jacket. Still as clueless as ever.

“Why? Were you planning on doing something to said drink?”

It’s a morbid joke that Edward waves off ferociously. His face pinches up in disgust, “I would never hurt someone like you.”

As if there’s a spirit behind those thick rimmed glasses that could hurt someone. And you were simply fortunate enough to not be considered a target. His tone sends a chill up your spine and inspires a fluttering flame deep in your belly.

The Edward you knew from the accounting department wouldn't hurt a fly. He simply hunched over his desk, working through numbers you were sure you'd never understand. He's not exactly a threat. But still unknown enough to you that you weren't sure which psychical sensation you'd let take over.

“If you’re trying to pick me up…I’m not sure if that’s a good reason for me to actually trust you.”

“Then all I ask is for your time.” The words come out like a promise. Curled around the edge of the sweetest little smile you've ever seen. Colored lights flashing off his glasses and staring right through you, Edward looks almost boyish. A shadow of some sort of child you may have recognized within yourself.

It has you following at his feet as he drags you to a bathroom. Has you clenching your teeth through a wince as he lifts you on the countertop and pushes you all the way back against the wall with the sheer weight of his body. No matter how much he had towered over you, it had never once struck you that he could be this strong. But you bend at his will and submit to the fire igniting inside as he kisses you.

The rough pad of his thumb holding your chin in place, it allows the warm muscle of his tongue to take control of the situation. He's obviously inexperienced; dry lips only being helped by the spit he can't control. Yet he's nowhere near nervous as he paws at the most hidden corners of your being under the dingy bathroom light.

His frantic mouth pauses long enough for him to whisper, “You have a choice.”

You miss the lingering taste of alcohol as he pulls away only slightly, “I do?”

Edward's voice shifts into something different. Firm and eager to pry into your darkest secrets. “You can choose the pyre of this city. Or you can choose me.”

It's an intensity that only fans the flame; turns it white hot and blistering. This single bathroom is far too small to hold all the energy that has built between you and him. The air depletes so quickly, your brain won't even let you second guess how this will snuff out in the end. Because, surely, it will. Connections like these rarely leave their subjects unscathed.

Would it be so bad to submit to his untamed power? To let him wrap himself around you entirely? To feel him suffocate you with all of the love he can possibly manage to give? Put it that way and it sounds as romantic as it does dangerous.

Still, you reply breathlessly, “You. Only you, Eddie."

This time, he is clear as day as he says, "Good choice."

As his mouth returns wetly to your pulse, all you hear is him giggling, the jangle of his belt being unbuckled, and the relentless pounding of a roaring hellfire consuming you.