#the story of the boy who cried wolf has always bothered me because like. yeah he shouldn't have cried wolf but also if the townspeople

[slyandthefamilybook]

Once there was a boy who was a shepherd. He kept watch over a small flock of sheep in a pasture at the edge of town. He loved his sheep. He had been born to a shepherd from a family of shepherds, and had so grown up amongst his flock. He knew all of the sheep by name and would great them one-by-one each morning. "Hello Dolly," he would say. "Hello Steven and hello Betty."

Now these sheep were undoubtedly useful: the townspeople would eat their meat and weave their wool and gnaw on their bones as they worked the fields. But these sheep were also alive. They had a glittering intelligence in their black eyes, and they would commune every so often to discuss the harvest, and the shepherd boy, and the townspeople. The sheep loved the shepherd boy and they loved the town and the townspeople, and the people loved them back. They were good sheep.

Now one day the shepherd boy overheard one of the townspeople talking about his flock. The man said he thought the sheep were ugly, and that they smelled bad. This upset the shepherd boy, because he loved his sheep, and he thought the people loved his sheep as well. The shepherd boy, being no more than 12 years old at the time, wanted to remind the people of how much his sheep mattered to them. So one night as the moon hid behind the clouds the shepherd boy stood on a stone in his pasture and cried out: "Help! Help! A wolf!"

Out came a crowd of people, blinking the sleep from their eyes and carrying torches and pitchforks and shovels and ladels. They stood in the pasture and looked about, but they could see no wolf. The townspeople became angry and shook their fists at the shepherd boy. "This is a serious matter!" they cried. The shepherd boy had to admit that his ploy was juvenile, but he was still a child, and so the people forgave him. And they continued to love the shepherd boy and his sheep, and the shepherd boy and his sheep loved them back, for the townspeople had proved that night how much they cared.

Five years later, when the shepherd boy was now a teen, he stood amongst his flock in the pasture and he said "good night, Dolly. Good night, Steven and good night, Betty." But as the clouds passed over the moon the shepherd teen saw a shape in the distance, and out of fear for his flock he cried out: "Help! Help! A wolf!"

Again came the great crashing crowd with their knives and their swords and axes and bows. They stood in the pasture and looked about, but they could see no wolf. The townspeople once again became angry, and they shook their fists at the shepherd teen. "This is a serious matter!" they cried. "We love you and we love your sheep, but you must learn to not be so frightened!" With great grumbling the townspeople returned to their homes, and the shepherd teen sensed that something had changed.

Five more years passed, and the shepherd teen was now a shepherd. He still passed through his flock every morning and said, "Good morning, Dolly. Good morning, Steven and good morning, Betty." And the sheep loved the shepherd and he loved them. But in his age he had grown cautious. The shepherd had learned from the townspeople that perhaps the wolves were not so great a threat as he had thought. And so at night when he would see their red eyes prowling at the edges of his pasture, he would stay silent and wait.

One night, as the clouds began to cover the moon, a wolf appeared. The wolf approached Dolly the sheep and snarled, its lips wet. "Away!" cried the shepherd. "Away with you!" But the wolf showed its fangs and said, "I want your sheep." "Why?" cried the boy. "Why must you take my sheep? You have your food in the forest!" But the wolf laughed. "I want your sheep because I am a wolf and they are sheep. That is how it is done." And the wolf parted its terrible jaws and snatched up Dolly the sheep and dragged her into the deep woods. And the shepherd remained silent.

The next night two wolves appeared, their eyes red and their tongues hungry. The wolves approached Steven the sheep who was with his family. "Away with you!" cried the shepherd. "Why do you hate my sheep so?" The wolves cackled and said with the same voice, "we hate your sheep because it is the thing for sheep to be hated. All wolves hate sheep, and they cannot all be wrong. Even the birds and rabbits of the forest will come around." And the wolves each took a leg from Steven the sheep and hauled him into the dark woods. And still the shepherd held his tongue.

The next night as the moon was new the shepherd saw a sea of red eyes at the edge of the forest. The wolves marched toward his sheep, their heads held high. And the shepherd saw that indeed the birds and rabbits of the forest were among them, their eyes bleeding and their teeth sharp. They approached Betty the sheep who cried out in terror. The shepherd stood on a rock in his pasture and called out with a loud voice: "Help! Help! The wolves have come, and all the birds and rabbits of the forest!"

But this time no one came. You see, although the boy had cried wolf before, his fear was now justified. But the townspeople had grown tired of him. Every time the flock was threatened they felt compelled to act, and that compulsion drained them. And they no longer liked the shepherd. He had spent too much time with his sheep, and they had begun to see that same glittering black intelligence in his eyes. Sheep are frightened of everything and cannot be expected to know when they are truly in danger.

What had the shepherd done for them? He kept his sheep mostly to himself these days. Perhaps the shepherd was the one really in control, and he had used his cries of wolf to bend the townspeople to his will. Anyone whose flock was threatened that often must be doing something wrong.

And what was this about the birds and rabbits of the forest? They were peaceful! They could never be convinced to join with those who preyed upon them. Flocks of sheep are old and backwards and they are a drain on the town, the people thought. If the birds and rabbits hate the sheep they must have good reason to do so.

Again the shepherd called out, but the townspeople rolled over in their beds and stuffed their ears with sheep's wool. The shepherd's cries of wolf had made them feel guilty, and so they had found reasons for why they did not have to listen. And besides, the townspeople thought as they pulled their wolf skins over their heads and their eyes glowed red, the sheep really were delicious...

[honey-dewey]

Our Small Slice of Paradise

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 1,696

Warnings: None, this is pure fluff. 

Four years and one child later, Frankie is a whole new man. He’s a wonderful father, a diligent working man, a kind soul, and a beautiful husband. He’s had his fight and his struggle, and now he has earned his small slice of paradise. 

“Frankie!” You called through the house, directing your yells towards the garage door. “Frankie! It’s dinner time!” 

“Huh?” Frankie poked his head in from the garage, genuinely looking shocked. His daughter was across his chest, dead asleep. “What’s up?” 

You smiled. “It’s dinner. Tell the boys to come inside.” 

Frankie turned red. “How do you know they’re out here?” 

“Because I could hear Benny through the walls.” 

All four boys and Nessa came in, Nessa incredibly upset that she couldn’t sit in Frankie’s lap throughout dinner. 

“Baby,” you grabbed her hands as she flailed in her high chair. “Baby! You can sit on daddy’s lap after dinner. But he has to eat too.” 

Nessa pouted, crossing her arms. “Want daddy!” 

Santiago snorted. “Wonder where she gets that attitude from.” 

“Watch your mouth Pope, or you won’t be invited back.” 

At your threat, Santiago wisely shut his mouth. 

Eventually, Nessa calmed enough for you to serve dinner, earning you praise from everyone at the table. 

“Delicious as always,” Benny said happily, taking a rather large bite. “Damn Fish, you really got a good one.” 

Frankie leaned over and kissed your cheek, garnering childish groans from the table. “Yeah, I did.” 

Once dinner was over, Nessa loudly insisted upon sitting with Frankie, so you all headed out back, where William set up the fire pit and went to grab a couple beers. 

“So,” Santiago said, gesturing to you and Frankie with his beer bottle. “When is the family expanding again? We have bets, you know!” 

Frankie laughed, gazing at you with loving eyes. “I dunno babe, should we have another baby?” 

“With these boys?” You said, raising your eyebrows and looking at the three boys sitting across from you. “I’ve got my hands full enough. I swear, your friends are like teenagers.” 

“Oh no.” Santiago shook his head. “You know nothing about our lovely Fransisco when he was a teenager.” 

“Oh?” You leaned closer to Santiago. “Explain.” 

Immediately, Santiago launched into a long and hilarious story about how Frankie earned his beloved nickname. Best you could tell between the laughter and the yelling, Frankie had gone on a road trip with Santiago before they’d joined the military, and they’d stopped in Louisiana. They’d gone swimming in a river, and poor Frankie had been bit not once but twice by a catfish.

“Well excuse you, those fuckers hurt!” Frankie argued once Santiago had finished. 

You smiled. “Pope, where did the fish bite him?” 

Santiago grinned a rather telling grin. “The first one got his foot.” 

Benny, who was doubled over with laughter, sat up with wide eyes. “No,” he said dramatically. “You did not get bit in the dick by a catfish.” 

“Have you never heard this story?” William asked, also breathless from laughter. “Pope told it at least twice on our road trip.” 

“I was asleep for most of that.” 

You leaned back, smiling at the boys. It was hard to imagine them as anything other than best friends. 

“I’m gonna go put Nessa to bed,” Frankie said softly to you once his watch had hit 9. “Is the spare room set up?” 

“Yeah,” you said, setting down your bottle or ginger beer and holding out your arms. “You stay with the boys. I’ll take Nessa.” 

Frankie smiled, kissing you and passing Nessa into your arms. Benny and Santiago wolf whistled, but you ignored them in favor of carrying your daughter to bed. 

Once she was situated and had been properly kissed good-night, you trailed back out to the yard, grabbing s’mores materials on your way. 

“What in the fuck?” You said, standing in the doorway out to the backyard and just watching. Benny and William were wrestling while Frankie and Santiago were making bets, cheering the other two boys on. 

Immediately, Benny sat up, smiling childishly at you. “Hey! Welcome back!” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Get off the ground Benny. And William, I expected better from you!” 

Both boys chorused out apologies, and you nodded. “Thank you. Now, who wants s’mores?” 

Immediately, all four boys leapt upon you, eagerly taking the s’mores materials from you. Frankie dug out the s’mores sticks the pair of you had and you had to stop a joust between Santiago and Benny. 

“Damn!” Santiago said, waving a flaming marshmallow around. “Fucking burnt it.” 

“Oh! Dibs!” William said, reaching out. “I like mine burnt.” 

“You disgust me.” Frankie smooshed his own lightly toasted marshmallow between two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate. 

Benny shrugged. “I like mine more toasted than that,” he said, taking chocolate from you. “Pope doesn’t even fucking toast his!” 

“Oh it is on!” 

You sighed, not even bothering to do anything as the boys began to wrestle. Again. Frankie got pulled into the mess when Santiago shoved a warm marshmallow into his back. William, who genuinely tried to stay out of it, was literally pulled into it when Frankie grabbed him and used him as a human shield. 

Leaning back into your chair, you munched on your s’more, watching the boys fight. It was good to see them happy, especially with how much they’d been through. They deserved to be at ease, not worried about some huge looming threat. 

“You’re out of ammo,” you eventually pointed out once the fighting had reached fifteen minutes, nudging the empty marshmallow bag. “And you’re messes.” 

Santiago untangled himself, sitting up and grunting as he rolled Frankie off his legs. “I’m sticky.” 

“You’re all sticky.” You stood, heading towards the hose. “C’mon, let’s get you all cleaned off.” 

It took some finagling, but with the right pressure setting and a good amount of scrubbing with the rough side of a kitchen sponge and some heavy duty dish soap, all four boys were mostly clean. You carried the pile of ruined clothes to the laundry room, hoping you could wash them tomorrow. In the mean time, something else had to be done. 

“Who’s first?” You asked, heading back outside with a small bucket of hair care supplies.

Everyone pointed to Benny except for Benny. He pointed to William, groaning when he realized he had to go first. “Why me?” 

“You’re youngest,” Santiago said, putting another log in the fire pit. 

Benny grumbled, but sat in the chair you stood behind, waiting for the pull of the comb as you attempted to remove the smeared in bits of marshmallow and chocolate. 

You were much gentler than he expected, using some old tricks and a warm washcloth to get the smaller chunks. The bigger ones needed more convincing, and you did have to cut a particularly stubborn chunk out, but it was a mostly smooth operation. 

After Benny, it was William, who had less in his hair that needed to be slowly massaged out. 

The brothers nodded to you once William was done, trailing into the house and to the guest room. 

Santiago needed more time than Benny, softly chatting to Frankie as you worked on his hair, eventually seeming him clean once his shoulders were damp from the warm washcloth and small marshmallow coated snippets of his hair littered the ground. 

“Well,” he said, standing and stretching. “I’ll leave you two crazy kids out here alone. Do not fuck each other, please. The walls are thin and I do not need to hear my best friend and his wife going at it in the backyard.” 

You gave him a good night, and Frankie gave him a middle finger as Santiago headed inside to pass out on the couch, as he usually did when he spent the night. 

“Come here mister,” you said, gesturing Frankie closer. “You’re a hot fucking mess.” 

Frankie smiled as he sat down, relaxing under your careful hands. “Mhm. You love me anyway.” 

“Not like this,” you said, tugging at one of the marshmallow chunks caked into his hair. “I dunno how much I can save Frankie.” 

“That’s fine,” Frankie promised. “I’m overdue anyway.” 

You smiled, spinning the kitchen scissors on your index finger. “Yeah, you kinda are.” 

By the time Frankie was free of the marshmallow and the chocolate, it was nearing 11, and Frankie was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. 

“Done,” you said softly, ruffling through his hair and dusting off his shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get to bed.” 

Frankie followed after you sleepily, watching through half lidded eyes as you put the kitchen scissors back in their drawer, tossed the dirty washcloth in the laundry, and pushed open your bedroom door. 

“I love you,” Frankie said abruptly, shocking you out of your rhythmic actions. You’d been in the process of getting dressed for bed, your day shirt on the floor and your sleep pants halfway pulled up. 

“What?” 

“I love you,” Frankie repeated, and there was so much sincerity in his voice that you almost cried. 

“Frankie.” You walked over to him, still shirtless. “Babe, you’re exhausted.” 

Frankie nodded, letting you take his shirt off. “Yeah, but I still love you,” he murmured, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist and holding you close to him. 

You smiled, trailing your arms over his neck, threading your hands through his newly trimmed hair as he bowed his head to your shoulder. “I love you too Francisco.”

The pair of you stayed like that, holding each other in the moonlight, half naked, until Frankie untangled himself from your arms and tugged you gently to the bed. You fell beside him, rolled into your side so you were facing him. 

“Hello handsome,” you said with a grin, kissing Frankie’s nose. “Wanna get married?” 

Frankie smiled, poking your cheeks one at a time and causing you to giggle. “I dunno, I got this wife at home, and I think she’s a real keeper.” 

You curled closer to Frankie’s chest, reveling in the warmth he provided. “Well damn. Why don’t you kiss her for me?” Your voice grew softer with each word as the night’s antics caught up to you. 

Frankie kissed the top of your head, feeling your breaths even out as you fell asleep. “I love you,” he whispered one more time, feeling his own eyes close as he too slipped away into the peace of sleep beside you.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #353: Doom Pup (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

1:00am Outside of Smash Town

Wolf: (Sighed while Walking Next to Panther and Leon back to the Mansion) I swear, this is the last time we'll ever let you wander off in a Night Club alone, Panther.

Panther: Ah come now, Leader. The night wasn't too bad.

Leon: (Rolled his Eyes) You only say that because you were too busy flirting with every random woman you laid your eyes on.

Panther: (Smirks Smugly) What can I say? I had to show off my Caroso Charm every now and then.

Wolf: (Rolled His Eyes as Well as him and his team made it into the front door of their Mansion) Should've expected that much from a Playboy like you.....And speaking of which, what ever happened to your "Undying Love" for Krystal or whatever?

Leon: Yes..... Didn't you have crush on her a while back?

Panther: ('Sigh Heavily') That I did. But Alas, it was never meant to be. As my heart for her has already moved on to others.

Wolf: (A bit Surprised which taking the keys out of his pocket) Damn. Really?

Panther: Afraid so-

???: (From Inside the Mansion) DIE, YOU DISGUSTING ALIEN SCUM!!! DIEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Leon: (Eyes Widened by the sudden noise) What in the name of the Lylat System was that?!

Panther: An ambush inside the Mansion perhaps?

???: GET BACK HERE SO I CAN FREAKIN' SHOOT YOU!!!!!

Wolf: Wait.......(Eyes Widened once he figured out who's voice he heard) Was that Izzy?!

Leon: The Mayor's Assistant?

Wolf: (Facepalms) It's Isabelle, Powalski. We talked about, man. And yeah. I can tell it's her from a mile a way.

Panther: Never expected Isabelle of all people have Battle Cries like that before.

Wolf: There's a lot of things you don't know about her oddly enough. And whatever's happening in there means she might be in trouble.

Leon: ('Sigh') Alright. I say that on the Count of Three, We Burst open the door and see if she's in trouble. Any objections?

Panther: (Shrugged) Not from my part.

Wolf: .....................

Leon: (Believed that Wolf has No Objections to the matter) Then it's settled then. Both of you get ready In One, Two-

Without Hesitation, Wolf Burst open the door with his bare hand and claw.... leaving a Not Surprised Panther and a Flabbergasted Leon to witnessed the whole scene.

Leon: WHAT THE HELL 'O DONNELL?!!

Wolf: (Ignored Leon's Outburst and barges his way inside) IZZY!!! WE'RE HERE TO SAVE- (Immediately Became Dumbfounded once he saw his girlfriend, who was very surprised by Wolf's Sudden Entrance, sitting in the sofa, holding a Video Game Controller) ......You..........

Isabelle: W-W-Wolfie?! (Immediately Pauses the game and went over to her boyfriend in concern) What's wrong, sweetie? Are you okay?

Wolf: (Came Back to Reality) Oh! Uhh! Yeah. I'm fine. I was just....you know..... making sure you were safe and all.....

Isabelle: Awww~ You were worried about me?

Wolf: ('Sigh Embarrassedly') Yeah..... Especially when I heard you screaming like your life depends on it or whatever.

Isabelle: (Starts Blushing) Oh my. I-I am so sorry for the outburst! I-I was only playing the new Doom Eternal game I brought earlier today.

Wolf: Hang on...... (Looks at the TV screen for a few seconds before turning back to Isabelle)......You actually play this kind of stuff?

Isabelle: Well....yeah. (Twirling her fingers together shyly) To tell you the truth, I've always been of fan of the Doom Series in general. Sure, it can be pretty violent at times, but it never really bothered me in the slightest. In fact.....(Smiles Bashfully) I just adore everything about this game and it's series in general. Blasting through these Alien Infested Scums, Destroying and Annihilating everything that moves in the process, all while saving these galaxies with a single swoop was always a Pure Delight for me. And it's also relaxing on some occasions too. So yes......(Smiles Brightly) I do, in fact, love the entire Doom Series, Wolfie.

Wolf: (Lost in Thought Again) ..........

Isabelle: (Starts Getting Worried Again) W-Wofie?

Wolf: ................Izzy, I wanna marry you someday.

Isabelle: ('GASPS') Really? (Starts Blushing while looking away) Oh Wofie~ I wanna marry you too..... B-But not now, okay?! W-We still have our life ahead of us, R-Right?

Wolf: (Came Back to Reality.... Again) Oh! Uhh! Yeah. Uhh.... Totally....(Sighed While Blushing in Embarrassment) Sorry about that.....

Isabelle: (Giggles Softly while Hugging her Boyfriend) It's okay. I still love you, my silly, Wolfie~

Wolf: (Chuckles Lightly at how Adorable Isabelle is) Love ya too, Izzy~

Leon: (*Ahem*)

The couple turns and see Leon staring at them in a very annoyed fashion while Panther tries his best to fix the Mansion's doors.....with very little success.

Leon: (Rolled his eyes while crossing his arms) As much as I would hate to interrupt your little....."Love Sessions", We need to fix these doors before someone-

???: Boys?!

Leon: ('Sigh') ......Wakes up.....

The gang looks up and sees a worried Peach making her way down the stairs.

Peach: What is going on here? (Gasps once she noticed the Mansion's Broken Doors) A-And why on Earth are the front doors are broken?!

Isabelle: (Blushing in Embarrassment)

Wolf: Yeah....... it's....(Chuckle A light) A funny story actually.

Panther: (Rolled his Eyes)

Leon: (Facepalms while Groaning)

And so, the Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom (And a Proud Mother Figure of the Smash Family) scolds Star Wolf for Breaking down the doors and waking her up in fright. All while Isabelle is somewhat Embarrassed in the background.

@keyenuta

@cyber-wildcat

@26shann

@chompycroc

@ink-correctsmashbrosbloo

@incorrectsmashbrosquotes

@scribblehooves

[meny-sempai]

MO DAO ZU SHI IS A MASTERPIECE – part 04

Hey guys!

First of all:

How is it possible that there are only 19 votes for this? Jeez…

This week’s newsflash!

Quote from the novel:

“Every day when Wei Wuxian was free, he played with the toddler Wen Yuan, son of Wen Qing’s cousin. He either let him hang on trees or buried him in the ground, fooling him that he’d grow faster if he was watered and bathed in sunlight… Turning around, though, he realized that Wen Yuan was gone. He almost turned pale, searching for the toddler all along the streets. Suddenly, he heard the wails of a child, and he immediately rushed over…

…

Wei WuXian, “Do you want one?”

Wen Yuan thought that he was going to buy one for him. He spoke embarrassedly, “Yeah.”

Yet, Wei WuXian walked in the opposite direction, “Haha, let’s go.”” (ch74)

Wei Wuxian, my son, you are so adorably horrible at parenting. Do keep it up. AND. If you think I’m not gonna use this in my favour, you’re wrong:

“Wei WuXian laughed madly, “Hahahahaha! Lan Zhan, congratulations! He’s taken a liking to you! He hugs the leg of whoever he likes, and he never lets go.”” (ch74)

“Jiang Cheng didn’t know when, but a child about one or two years old crept over and hugged his leg. Raising his chubby chin, he looked up at him with his dark, round eyes.” (ch73)

My boy JC = instant like. The children know.

Aaand that’s a wrap, see you guys next time!

… You wish. Let’s get started!

Before I begin I’ll just repeat this for the new readers:

I’m not a native English speaker so please bear with the mistakes I’m bound to make. I did read the novel, but only as far as the Exiled Rebels Scanlations translated it (thank you Rebels, you’re gods). I know a lot of spoilers, but I can’t say I know the whole story – If I start theorising be aware that I’m just theorising, I’m not actually telling the plot, but, just to be sure: SPOILERS ahead, I will use the facts I know for my analysis.

In this short series I’ll talk about the episodes, but I’ll also have long monologs about a certain topic.

EPISODE 07 – or, man I hate the Wens but I LOVE that theme music of theirs

… Has anyone ever told you the story about the boy who cried wolf?

And half of the fandom just died in the most satisfying death. I love how he just took a glance at the tables and was like: Nope, I’m not having any of this shit. And I’ll be theatrical and dramatic about it for all to see.

Remember what I said in one of my posts about the clans - how they don’t seem to be willing to play as a team and mostly watch their own? I think there’s a lot of truth in this and I suppose this is one of the reasons why the Wens grew so much in power. Nie sect obviously has a grudge against the Wens and wants to act on it. Now that Nie Mingjue is old enough he could do it. In theory. But without the assistance of other sects it would be suicidal. Was that why the Wens left Nie Mingjue and his brother alive after they killed their father? Did they know the other sects wouldn’t be willing to lift their fingers for the Nie? We can assume they didn’t react to the murder of Nie Mingjue’s father, so why would they help the Nie in revenge?

From my POV and understanding this advice of Lan Qiren should be pissing the hell out of Nie Mingjue. He is telling him to suck it up. Yes, for the sake of his clan, but also, because any kind of mess like this is endangering the other sects. Other sects chose to keep to themselves, so the advice is also: You do this, man - you’re alone.

On the other hand, this sentence can be also seen as how Lan Qiren himself feels. We saw him being enraged by the Wen clan because they let the Waterbound Abyss in their territory. But he can’t voice out his dissatisfaction, because he himself is sucking it up for his sect. If we see it that way, he’s basically saying: Even if we both riot it would be a suicide (Because, you see that yellow prick behind you? He’s not gonna help us and he’s the richest of us all. Jiangs are playing friends with them, they want to be family. We can’t count on any other help.)

And Lan Qiren is right. Nothing happened after Cloud Recesses was vandalized.

I don’t think the four big sects trust each other very much. The Wen sect actually brought them all together with all the shit they did. But teaming up happened mostly because the young ones took over.

I don’t even think they like each other. Which is kinda expected – they are all very different - their origin, mentality, temper, code, cultivation method. It’s actually funny how the Gusu Lan and the Nie are showing the first signs of teaming up since they are completely different in everything.

Instant confirmation to both Nie Mingjue and Lan Qiren. If you are understanding the scene like I described it, this guy laughing after what Lan Qiren said gets a whole new meaning. UGH. I don’t know why, but I really like the sound of his voice. Ugh…

And now we get the Jiang’s POV. The leader of the Jiang doesn’t care about the sitting arrangements (about the current situation of the sects). For him, the way things are, everything is already settled and can’t be changed in the present situation. What he cares about is THE FUTURE. Who will come after Wen Ruohan? Considering we know how deeply Jiangs value their family we can assume Jiang Fengmian is only thinking of how all of this will affect his children. Especially the future leader of Jiang.

What if? Jiang Fengmian always talks about the clan’s moto, he cherishes the “attempt the impossible”. But he himself is a very mild mannered man who doesn’t seem to have accomplished anything “amazing” in his years. And the way he acts could be seen as “weak” – he “accepts” the Wen sect, he “accepts” the wife’s anger, he “accepts” the marriage, he “accepts” the betrayal of his servant and friend. He is actually… very similar to Jiang Cheng.

What if the reason he’s being so strict and emotionless towards his son is because, in his way, he’s trying to make his son a better man than himself. Attempt the impossible/be like Wei Wuxian – don’t be like me. The future is bleak, and as a leader, you, my son, my heir, you can’t be like me.

Once again, MDZS makes a fabulous scene out of nothing.

Not at all.

My god, I love the dialog in this. Also, remember what I rambled about Wen Xu? Could this also be a hint? Did the sect leaders maybe hope to see him there? Instead, they got an untalented punk – worse than his father.

I’m sorry, for some reason I always laugh like an idiot during this exchange. I don’t know what it is that makes this scene so hilarious to me. Please, someone explain it to me.

He’s so precious!

Ah… JC, we meet again. I’ll talk about this moment down below. Just, remember it.

*squealing from love and insufferable pain*

JC: “Let’s split into two groups, then gather at the exit later.”

WWX: “Hey, where the hell are you leading me to?” (smiling)

JC: “Stop complaining! Just follow me.” BAM

WWX: “How about we go back the way we came? Rest assured. I definitely won’t tell anyone.” (teasing)

JC: “Just shut up, will you!” BAM

WWX: “Ahahahaha! Jiang Cheng.”

JC: “What now?”

WWX: “Look.”

I laughed my ass off the first two times I watched this. The third time… I noticed something.

Jiang Cheng takes the lead the moment the archery tournament starts, as an heir should. He gives out orders and goes into “follow me” mode. He has a path in mind, this strange and hard path looks right to him. He has a gut feeling he’s right in his decisions and he follows his gut. Wei Wuxian questions the plan like any of us would if someone started to drag us through “tight spots” for no reason. He questions him but he follows him nevertheless. I don’t think he even questions him for real, I think he’s just having fun watching his brother plays leader. And that’s one of the problems. Jiang Cheng is not playing. He’s trying to prove himself. This is his chance. So, when Wei Wuxian pokes fun at him he snaps like he usually does, but this time there is also an injury. Their conversation and Wei Wuxian’s comments hurt. Hence the head bumps. You can clearly see the change in Jiang Cheng’s expression after the first bump. He’s not so decisive anymore. He actually looks sad as if he’s starting to question his decisions too. But he can’t back down now so he just keeps going. And the smart-ass Wei Wuxian knows his brother too well. From his next comment we can see that he figured out what is bothering Jiang Cheng and as any decent sibling he pokes at it. Of course, Wei Wuxian doesn’t mean any harm, he’s just playing like the brothers always do. JC says some harsh things to Wei Wuxian too, it’s all part of being siblings. Sure, Wei Wuxian makes comments, but he still follows. He’s not even truly questioning anything, he’s annoying, but he completely trusts JC’s lead. He never thought of leaving his side, not even during “tight spots”.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t get hurt because of what Wei Wuxian says, he knows Wei Wuxian is probably the only one who doesn’t and won’t ever mean any of it. And that’s the biggest problem. Jiang Cheng believes in Wei Wuxian, he believes in WWX’s love for him, he trusts Wei Wuxian, but he doesn’t trust others. When someone says similar things that Wei Wuxian would jokingly say to him, Jiang Cheng can’t ignore it. Why? Because the same things have been said to him by the people who should love you the most. When your mother is always attacking your brother and saying you’re a fool to love him, when she is constantly dissatisfied with you and even says things like:

“You really are an idiot. I’ve told you long ago that you’ll never in your whole life be able to surpass the one sitting beside you. Not over cultivation, not over night-hunting, even over shooting kites, you can’t surpass him! … Your mom tells you countless times not to fool around with him, yet you’re still defending him. Just how did I give birth to a son like you?!” (ch51)

When your father never acknowledges you, when your parents are fighting because you’re not good enough, how do you feel? Wouldn’t any kind of comment affect you? Wouldn’t hearing that you’re worse at archery than some guy who missed the whole target hurt you? (But, they’re fighting because of Wei Wuxian and his mom, not because of JC.) Sure. But, would that be such a big problem if Jiang Cheng was as good as Wei Wuxian? If he was as good, wouldn’t that make his mother as good as the other woman? Wouldn’t that make his father love them equally? Besides, what child doesn’t think it’s his fault their parents “don’t love each other”?

“Jiang Cheng told him from inside, “Go sleep somewhere else! This is my room! You’re even gonna steal my room?!”

At that time, Wei WuXian didn’t know what Jiang Cheng was mad about at all. After a pause, he replied, “I didn’t steal anything. It’s Uncle Jiang who told me to sleep with you.”

Hearing that he was still bringing up his father, almost as if he was purposely showing off, Jiang Cheng’s eyes reddened as he yelled, “Go away! If I see you again, I’ll call a bunch of dogs to bite you!””(ch71)

This scene ripped my heart to shreds. Poor WWX, so confused and scared. Poor JC. Yes, this, THIS is jealousy. A full blown toxic jealousy attack, but there is also a lot to be read between the lines. Why is he exploding like this out of the blue? He was ready to forgive the fact that they’ve taken his only friends away from him. He was ready to share the room with the person for whom he had to give up his dogs. So why? He’s a child and he’s jealous, but is that really it? You know, seeing your father hugging someone should not be a trigger. It’s not normal to compare yourself just because of that. There has to be more, more unspoken reasons why someone would instantly compare oneself with someone. JC is someone who puts up with a lot of shit without saying anything – such people tend to explode for “no reason”. Realizing he’s been hugged only five times is the last straw.

When a very young child is unsure of whether his father loves him – you, as a parent, are doing something wrong. When a child is so afraid that his mistakes will make his father not like him even more – you have a very insecure child. An insecure child/person has a very low opinion of himself.

“Looking at Wei WuXian’s legs, Jiang Cheng’s face was full of nervousness. If any other disciple or servant learned about this and told Jiang FengMian, after Jiang FengMian knew how he threw Wei WuXian’s sheets out and made him hurt his leg, Jiang FengMian would definitely dislike him even more. This was also why he only dared chase after them alone and didn’t get anyone else.

Seeing how worried he seemed, Wei WuXian took the initiative, “Relax. I won’t tell Uncle Jiang. I only hurt myself because I suddenly wanted to climb a tree last night.”

Hearing this, Jiang Cheng sighed in relief. He swore, “You can relax as well. Anytime I see a dog, I’ll chase it away for you!”” (ch71)

I do believe this was the beginning of the ultimate trust. Also, after his jealousy attack, JC immediately realized what he did and felt bad. Yes, he was afraid of his father, but I do not believe for a second that that has any significance in his love for Wei Wuxian.

“Jiang YanLi put Wei Wuxian onto her back and began to walk back, wobbling in her steps as she spoke, “A-Ying, no matter what A-Cheng said to you, don’t bother about him. He doesn’t have a good temper, so he’s always home playing with himself. Those puppies were his favorites. Dad sent them away, and so he’s feeling upset. He’s actually really happy that somebody’s here to be with him. You ran out here and didn’t go back for a long time. I came to find you only because he’s worried that something happened to you and went to wake me up.””(ch71)

I love A Li, I’ll talk about her more later. She’s a great sister, but she does sometimes unintentionally do things that are unfair to Jiang Cheng (don’t attack me, wait for the next post for the elaboration). In this particular scene she was amazing. She didn’t get mad at JC (out of all the people he trusted her to bring back Wei Wuxian and don’t tell father about his mistake – that’s love). She carried them both (which is a nice contrast to Jiang Fengmian who carried only Wei Wuxian in the scene before). She tended to JC’s wounds from falling into the pit and encouraged him to say sorry. She. Was. Great.

But, let’s address one more thing. What does she mean by JC not having a good temper? What kind of a bad temper can a child have to not be able to have friends? Older JC is stiff and grumpy, but he does have friends in his sect and other people want to be his friends (Nie Huaisang for example).When you doubt your own worth, you can’t trust people to like you. Being around people can be hard. Being around dogs that have unconditional love for you can be very easy. It’s pleasant. I think Princess, Jasmine, and Love were healing his soul (like dogs often do) and taking them away was way more tragic from JC’s POV than it seems. No wonder he was wailing.

It’s funny how Wei Wuxian is afraid of dogs, but has so much unconditional love in him for his family.

I’ll talk about Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng more – the juicy episodes are coming. I’ll just say this: I really admire both of them. It would have been so damn easy for those two to hate each other’s guts, but they just don’t. And, yes, I don’t know the whole story, but right now, I believe JC never truly hated WWX, not even after everything.

Anyway.

Back to the scene from the donghua.

So, JC bumps his head and we laugh because it’s funny. If you are overthinking, like I am whenever JC appears on the screen, then you might see the head bumps as a metaphor for the comments JC has to live with. There’s one more way we can take this scene. Let’s say this is some form of foreshadowing. JC becomes the leader. Through thick and thin he leads and WWX follows him. JC’s decisions are not always the best, but the one who gets hurt by those decisions is him. Let’s go further and say the first bump is Shijie’s death.

Wei Wuxian: “How about we go back the way we came?”

I don’t know how it happens, but JC most certainly refuses to go back to how things were, he can’t go back. Even if you see honest hurt on his face, he continues and his leadership and decisions hurt him again. The death of Wei Wuxian. Even after this, JC continues on and in the end he reaches his destination. He was right all along, the path did lead to their goal (feral ghosts in this particular scene), but when he’s finally reached his goal he doesn’t see it. Not until Wei Wuxian points it out. When JC lost all of his family (Wei Wuxian in particular) he lost his focus. The goal became invisible because it had no worth anymore.

The two heroes of Yunmeng Jiang – Jiang Cheng needs Wei Wuxian in order to be himself and show his best.

I can’t wait for more chapters of the novel to analyse all of this and have a full picture of their relationship.

I know, ladies… Aahh… I know.

Well, you are extremely striking, Wei Wuxian, I’ll give you that. You’re so damn pretty here, my son.

One starts, the other one finishes. Both in their own ways. I just remembered this quote from the novel while re-watching:

“The two knew how to continue each other’s words ever since they were young. Now, one sentence after another, the argument flowed seamlessly…” (ch62)

I TOLD YOU NOT TO CRY WOLF! LOOK WHAT YOU DID! Calm down, Lan Zhan, breathe, my child brea-

HOLY FUCK! Down, Lan Zhan, stay down, remember the code! Remember, you’re a good boy, the best bo-

OK. OK, yeah, let it out. That’s healthy. Just… yeah. O.O (You better not piss off this dude. Fear the quiet ones, FEAR THEM.)

How can you be so smart, yet so stupid? XD Seriously, did you or did you not copy the damn rules for a month??? But, yeah, poor Lan Zhan, and poor Wei Wuxian – he is honestly confused. He wasn’t given a moment to properly apologize and he clearly wanted to. These two… they’ll be the death of me. Btw, the whole ribbon thing is so interesting, such a nice detail to the world building. But! I do admit that you most likely wouldn’t know about it if you follow only the animation. They should have made it more obvious. Unless. They did it like this on purpose, only to reveal it in the next season, which is also cool.

He feels so bad. TT_TT Don’t make that face at him, Lan Zhan, he’s a gentle soul. He doesn’t look like it, but he is.

Exactly. We won. Love is strong in JC. And look at those dorks. Precious. These moments are truly the blessing that we got from the animation. For me at least, it made me care about those guys even though I can’t remember their names. Those two nameless purple boys were the ones who made me drop my first tear in ep 11. These small things are so important. This is how you write a scene. 

Envious much? I get you, though.

EPISODE 08 – or, where have all these bitches come from???

Diminutive - used to express the fact that something is small, often either to show affection or to suggest that something or someone is not important: Adding diminutive suffixes is often a disparaging tactic. MDZS has this fascinating ability to tell and show without actually spending too much time to tell and show.

Once again, such an imaginative way to progress the scenes.

“The cultivation clans kept silent in indignation (after the fall of many clans), only to share their resentments secretly. In the same year Wen Ruohan commanded his eldest son, Wen Xu, to aggressively intrude and burn down the Cloud Recesses.”

Ah, Wen Xu, I had so much faith in you. But, at least you didn’t burn everything and killed everyone like Wen Chao did. And defying your father/leader is a no-no. Eh, dunno, I wish we had more on him.

Don’t touch my baby! *animalistic growling*

That was really… cruel. But, I already talked about it. I want to say another thing here. I think the main reason why Wei Wuxian immediately jumped to the chance to go with Jiang Cheng is because Jiang Cheng will be safer with him than alone (I think Jiang Fengmian knows this too). Wei Wuxian is very protective of his shidi, he always saves him from (physical) danger. Man, I really love the Jiang siblings.

This is a nice parallel to that one moment when Wei Wuxain absorbed resentful energy in the earlier episode. The core melting must hurt as hell. Since I know almost all of the Jiang family lost their cores in similar fashion I get so pissed whenever I see The core melting hand (I don’t care for his name, he doesn’t deserve to have a name, I actually hate him more than any other Wen. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, he knows his lords are evil and he does nothing and his excuse is some favor. I totally get why Wei Wuxain was so furious with him.)

SCREENSHOT!

Don’t do something that will kill you.

Also, I like how the moment Wen Chao said “Who else dares to defy my orders?” Wei Wuxian immediately showed up in the frame. It’s such a nice touch to his personality and it’s a nice “invisible way” of foreshadowing.

He’s such a good child… *ugly sobbing*

The world doesn’t deserve Wei Wuxian. The world punishes people like Wei Wuxian and everyone knows this fact. The world is just not ready for someone as good and righteous. It probably never will be and that’s sad. But being “good and righteous” is complicated and debatable. The world will never agree on “good and righteous”, the agreement can never be pure and open-minded – someone like Wei Wuxian will never be accepted in the real society. We can all say we admire him and we truly do, but we also call him a fool.

He is so creepy. I love the VA for this guy. The way he laughs and yells Yahoo adds to the craziness.

All of them are so cute here. Lan Zhan too, with his childish jealousy. They just look like kids playing around. Also, Nie Huaisang, I can’t wait to see more of your shady ass in the future.

… I just think this shot is beautiful.

Jin Zixuan: Did you just touch my shoulder with your filthy finger?

Me: Fret not, babe, I’ll have Wei Wuxian make him eat that finger.

Lan Zhan and Jin Zixuan started it, Wei Wuxian brings a whole new level to “Fuck you”. I mentioned this before, I’ll say it again: I really like how our MC fights first with his smarts and even when he’s physical you can see that he’s using wits and tricks to win. That’s not usually the case with MCs. In this particular case, because he used his wit to disgrace Wen Chao and the Wen sect, he got remembered and became the main target to Wens’ revenge. JC must be eating himself up over this. He tried so hard, yet at the end he let his brother do something that will kill him. Honestly, though, I would have done the same as Wei Wuxian… and then I’d be feeling guilty for the rest of my life… just like him.

… Um… Wei Wuxian sweety, your Yiling Patriarch is showing.

“Attempt the impossible” sequence is a go. Also, this is such a cool shot.

Can’t you see a giant killer turtle behind you??? Good to know what your priorities are. You dumb bitch. Also, that scream… That was a really good scream of Wei Wuxian. Well… not good. You know what I mean.

And that’s all for today. I always say to myself I’ll make it shorter next time and I always fail to do so. Well, hope you enjoy my rambling. See you!

[thrashff]

30 Days of Therapy

Pairing: Min Yoongi x OC (female)

Synopsis: Min Yoongi has a lot of issues, but doesn’t everyone? Fortunately for him, it only takes thirty days of therapy to fall back in love with the world—and maybe even a girl while he’s at it.

Warnings: Depression, angst, anxiety, dissociation, depersonalization disorder—basically a lot of mental health issues and coping mechanisms and everyone tries to deal as best as they can. If you’re triggered by any of this, please please please don’t read this. Also, cursing.

Word Count: 20k (ish, please don’t hate me)

A/N: Istg this wasn’t meant to be so long -___-; I was possessed, possessed I tell you!

Disclaimers: Canon compliant, takes place around October 2017. I know that the official schedule says they’ll be in Japan and Taiwan, but this is a fanfic. Let’s suspend reality for bit, yeah?

The words at the beginning of each segment are from Chuck Palahniuk’s Lullaby. Plot has nothing to do with the novel, but they touch on a few of the same themes. Apart from that nothing really, except the quotes felt like they fit.

Enjoyyy~ <3

#ProtectMinYoongi

[“We’re the culture that cried wolf.”]

Day 0

Anger fucking management.

Yoongi has turned the idea over and over in his head countless times and it still doesn’t sit well with him. He doesn’t even have anger management issues; what he does have an issue with is stupid fucking Jungkook thinking it was a good idea to bait him into a game of chase by taking one of his external hard drives as hostage.

How was Yoongi supposed to know that pushing that chair out of his way would break the entire mirrored wall of the dance studio? He wasn’t, that’s how. Because it had been an accident—one of those freak of nature things that tended to just happen as an accumulation of bad luck and maybe even worse karma, which Yoongi was now of the personal belief he had a lot of.

But, of course, no one had believed him. Nope, not Yoongi; not the moody, unstable problem child in their already strange pseudo-family. If it had been Namjoon no one would have batted an eyelash, instead saying something about the “god of destruction” fondly and letting it slide. If it had been any of the maknaes, people would have petted them on the head and sent them off with a stern warning. Of course, Seokjin would never break anything he could see his own reflection in, and Hoseok was far too superstitious to be anything but careful around mirrors. That left practically everyone thinking the worst of him, sending him to a month-long crash course in anger fucking management.

The mere idea makes him angrier than Jungkook’s stupid stunt.

[“Until you deal with your real personal issues, you’ll never be able to control yourself.”]

Day 1

A long week later, their crazy schedule finally winds down enough to be adjusted. Enough to free up most of his evenings from 8-10PM for 30 days of therapy that he’s 100% sure he doesn’t even need. But still, here he is, trudging into the function room of a university office building on a Thursday night he could be spending at the Genius Lab instead, black facemask over his nose and mouth and bucket hat pulled low over his eyes, Manager Sejin frowning as he trails after him.

Yoongi tries to soothe himself with the fact that he’s lucky to have talked himself out of one-on-one sessions. Yoongi would dance, wear make-up, preen in front of the cameras, put on animal ears fans brought him—hell, he would even make a fool of himself on national television; but the one thing he would not do was talk about his feelings to a stranger for two hours every night.

Group therapy wouldn’t be so bad, he tries to convince himself, albeit a little half-heartedly, as he walks through the empty halls, leather shoes clacking on the polished linoleum. At least he won’t be the only problematic one in the room—if his problems are even that bad to begin with. For fuck’s sake, doesn’t everyone have issues?

He lets out a little scoff at yet another double standard that it seemed only applied to him, pausing right in front of the double doors with “Dr. Kim Yejun” taped on the front. He takes a deep breath to steel himself and finally pushes them open. Thirty days. It’ll be over before he knows it.

[“The story behind the story.”]

Yi Jihoon is six foot five and built like a brick wall, broad shouldered and barrel-chested, but he’s already in tears as he introduces himself and explains that he hadn’t meant to trash that bar when he caught his girlfriend cheating on him. He’s a good person, honest. He can’t even remember the incident, blacking out with rage. That doesn’t count, does it?

Nae Minjun looks like a rat and is just as twitchy, all of 19 years old and constantly flicking his fingers over a battered, gunmetal Zippo lighter that has seen better days; flick, flare, snap. He’s in therapy because he’d thought breaking into a garbage dump and starting a 25-foot bonfire there had been a good idea. He also doesn’t look the least bit repentant about it.

Dong Gunwoo looks like an average, middle-aged, stressed-out businessman, still dressed in an exquisitely tailored suit from the office. Indispensable to his company, they’re sending him to therapy because no one is willing to work with him thanks to his tendency towards violent outbursts over the smallest infractions.

Sam Lee is the only girl in the group. She looks like she’s in her mid-twenties, same as Yoongi, but in South Korea it’s always hard to tell. When it’s her turn to introduce herself, she merely shrugs and tells them she’s here to make the rest of them look sane and normal in comparison. Yoongi smirks behind his facemask at that. Dr. Kim doesn’t look entertained.

Then there’s Yoongi, the idol with the “unhealthy coping mechanisms.” Manager Sejin cuts in then; they won’t mind signing this non-disclosure agreement, would they? Of course not. A standard contract, they can spare ten minutes to read through it. Yoongi is fine. Yoongi is normal. He’s just been under a lot of pressure lately and is eager to learn how to deal with his feelings in a healthy manner.

Yoongi doesn’t know why he had even bothered to speak at all. His management team would take care of it. He’s already half hoping that Manager Sejin will attend all of his sessions with him.

By the time all the documents were signed (it took Minjun three attempts before he gave back a copy that wasn’t burnt at the edges) and Dr. Kim had finished his introduction speech on how anger was normal, healthy emotion, forty-five minutes had passed and they were allowed to take a twenty minute break.

Yoongi stands, stretching his sore legs (the new DNA choreography was no joke). Interrupts Manager Sejin and Dr. Kim’s hushed conversation to ask if the perimeter is safe, if he can step outside for some fresh air. Manager Sejin nods—no, he doesn’t need to take security, they’re the only ones in the building. Yoongi bows, taking his hat off and slicking his silver-blue hair away from his forehead. A quick glance around the room tells him Jihoon is attacking the stale donuts with a vengeance, Gunwoo is talking heatedly to someone on the phone, and that Minjun and the Lee girl have disappeared.

He sighs and makes his way to the exit, pulling his facemask down to take in a couple of deep lungfulls of the crisp fall air, the feel of it enough to calm the constant stream of complaints he’s muttering in his head. He loves this time of year—leaves changing, the world slowing down to make way for winter, the scent of cold heavy on the air.

Although he doesn’t quite remember it smelling so sweet and… pungent?

He scrunches his nose, frowning, already following the odd smell. He turns the corner of the building to find Lee leaning against the chain link fence lining the building’s perimeter, her hands shoved into the pockets of an oversized knit cardigan the color of snot, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She raises an eyebrow at him, and Yoongi stops in his tracks. Of course he isn’t used to the smell of cigarettes—none of the Bangtan boys smoke them. And if anyone on the production team does, they do a good job of hiding it.

He makes a face. “Those are bad for you,” he tells her bluntly.

She laughs, and it’s an odd sound that stays ringing in his ears afterwards; somewhere between a chortle and a cough and a bark all at the same time. He doesn’t know if he likes it or hates it. “You could say that about anything,” she points out. Her hair is ragged at the ends and several different shades of brown under a black bowler hat; heavy vintage eyeglasses on the tip of her nose, catching the lamplight.

Yoongi decides she could be pretty, if he squinted a bit and looked past the baggy clothes. They weren’t even oversized in a fashionable way—she looked like she had gotten dressed in the dark in a thrift store that carried nothing but the worst of the 90s.

“Besides,” she continues, seemingly oblivious to his scrutiny, the unkind thoughts in his head. “We’re all here because we’re bad for society. Don’t fit the status quo. Measured and found lacking. What’s one more bad habit they need to fix?”

Her tone is balanced, even. Like she’s telling him something she’s said a million times before. Yoongi can tell—he’s used to reading from a script.

He probably shouldn’t, but the smell of the smoke she’s exhaling smells sweet to him and he walks over, leaning on the fence and mimicking her posture. Lord help him, but it’s nice to be around someone who isn’t falling all over herself, asking to take a selca together. Someone who isn’t perfectly polished, the way everyone is these days. She isn’t exactly a ray of sunshine, but he finds he doesn’t quite mind. Neither is he.

Lee just watches him from the corner of her eye, smoking her cigarette in silence.

“So what are you really in for?” he finally asks, unnerved by the quiet. His studio is always full of music and home is always filled with people. There are always so many things to do and not enough hours in a day to get them done and he tries and fails to remember the last time he’s simply stood and done nothing—not even speak.

She lights another cigarette, taking a deep drag. They both watch the smoke dance in the heavy air for a few moments, until Yoongi chances a glance at her face. Her expression is almost entertained, as if he had made a joke that only she was in on. “Like I said, I’m here to make the rest of you look good.”

He snorts and turns back to watching the empty concrete parking lot in front of them. “Yeah, like you’re worse off than the sociopath or the pyromaniac.”

“Everyone has problems,” she laughs. “You’re only here because you forgot to be perfect for five minutes and actually let yourself feel something.”

Yoongi starts at that. He’s used to being the one doing the psychoanalyzing, not the other way around. If anything, he had expected it to come from Dr. Kim—not one of his fellow fuck-ups. He won’t admit it, but she’s right. It had felt good to throw that chair out of his way, to hear glass breaking; it had felt even better to chase Jungkook down like prey, a growl in his throat and his limbs pumping to chase after him. The thrill had been different from being on stage, which was all carefully calculated and choreographed down to the twitch of his lips and the movement of every finger, but it had been a thrill nonetheless. It had been the first honest thing he’d done instead of said in ages.

He’s so deep in thought that he doesn’t notice she’s been watching his expression change, his emotions dancing on his face in a way that he isn’t used to showing around people, especially strangers.

She laughs again, starling him. That odd, barking laugh that slides into the empty space between their bodies like a bridge, like something familiar and warm and alien all at the same time. She ditches her cigarette butt and crushes it under a booted heel.

“Weird, isn’t it, when you realize being alive and feeling alive are two different things?”

She pushes her glasses back up her nose, throws him one last look over her shoulder as she makes her way back towards the doors.

“See you inside, popstar.” She says the last word in English, her accent clean without any hint of Korean.

Yoongi stares after her, wondering why his heartbeat is suddenly loud in his ears.

[“The story of how we met. How we got here.”]

Jungkook is the one to pull the door open when the van returns to pick them up. Grinning wide from ear to ear, slightly oversized front teeth prominent, an apology in his eyes.

“Hello, hyung! I’m here to treat you to dinner!” he greets, leaving Yoongi with no other option.

The older boy narrows his eyes at him, but he’s too spent to give him a full-on glare. “You’re a little shit, you know that?” He hasn’t quite forgiven Jungkook yet, but after spending two awkward hours opening up to a bunch of strangers, he has to admit he was glad to see a friendly face. Even if it does belong to the person who had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Jimin’s head appears over Jungkook’s shoulder, eyes wide. “Was it that bad, hyung?”

Yoongi glances behind him, watching as the rest of the group filters out into the night. Dr. Kim is standing in front of the doors talking to a still sobbing Jihoon, Minjun is sitting on the steps on his phone, fire flaring between his fingers every few seconds, Gunwoo is powerwalking to his parked sedan and Lee is leaning against a pillar, already smoking another cigarette. Watching him.

Manager Sejin places a hand on the small of his back, urging him to continue on towards the van. Two people from his security detail trails after them.

Yoongi shakes his head, irrationally annoyed all over again at all the fuss the situation has caused. He pushes Jungkook’s head back inside the car with one hand. “It’s fine,” he huffs. “But if you’re treating, I want lamb skewers.”

Jungkook’s smile returns, and he lets out a little sigh of relief at Yoongi’s lack of threats as he makes room for the new passengers. “Sure, hyung. All the lamb skewers you want.”

Yoongi tries to listen to him and Jimin’s conversation, but his chest is tight and he can’t help thinking back to Lee’s words. Mostly because they don’t make any sense. What the hell had she been talking about? He is alive, therefore he feels alive. Doesn’t he?

[“The trick to forgetting the big picture is to look at everything close-up.”]

Day 5

“I listened to your music,” Lee tells him, sitting cross-legged on a concrete parking block behind the building.

It’s a Wednesday evening, and over the last couple of sessions it’s become a habit, him following her out back and keeping her company as she smokes. Yoongi likes habits, likes patterns. He finds comfort in knowing that when they take a break, he’ll be able to follow her out back and stand or sit in companionable silence for twenty minutes out of a normally hectic day—starts looking forward to it, even. The quiet is strange, but a good kind of strange. Like an empty house full of old memories.

In any case, it’s a welcome reprieve from always being ushered from one thing to another.

Her dogeared, worn copy of Chuck Palahniuk’s Lullaby is sitting heavy in his jacket pocket. He’s already halfway through since she lent it to him over the weekend, despite it not being translated into Korean. She hadn’t said a word when she’d tossed it to him on Friday night, simply smirked and disappeared into the evening.

He pulls himself from thoughts of dead people on television laugh tracks and how unreasonably small that makes him feel. He stares down at her, slightly surprised by the admission.

Lee isn’t normal. Well, none of them in the group are, per se; it’s why they’re all there to begin with. But she’s a different kind of not normal. She has a strange, roundabout way of saying things, if she even bothers to talk at all. Instead she minds her own business, keeps her nose stuck in a book and smokes cigarettes the way other people breathe oxygen.

And if he thinks he’s plagued with indifference, Lee takes it to a whole other level. It isn’t that she doesn’t care about a lot of things, the way Yoongi more often than not found himself unable to—it’s that she cares about the strangest things to almost an obsessive extent. Over the course of their sessions everyone has opened up about their pasts and personal histories, thanks to the sharing segments led by Dr. Kim—even Yoongi. But Lee would sit there and talk passionately about a book or a movie that had been, in her words, transformative. The manipulation had been so subtle that not even Dr. Kim had caught on yet. She would talk about things she likes, not about herself or who she was. Never about that.

Yoongi should have found it exhausting, should have considered it unfair that he was playing by the rules and she was playing a completely different game. Instead he’d found it entertaining.

Most importantly, she has no idea who or what BTS even is. His pride had felt a little rankled when he realized she wasn’t just trying to be cool; that she really had never heard of them. But he was mostly just relieved. It’s nice to have someone who doesn’t expect anything from him, not even small talk.

“Yeah?” he finally mumbles into the collar of his jacket. He stops himself from asking for her opinion, reminds himself that she’s still virtually a stranger. Her opinion doesn’t matter; their position on the charts does. That mentally settled, he doesn’t know why he’s still watching for her reaction.

She nods thoughtfully, taking a drag of her cigarette. “You have a habit of using your name in your verses.”

The observation startles half a laugh from him, his eyes going wide. “I do. Huh.”

She smirks, still staring at the side of the building like there’s a message hidden in the concrete cracks. “It’s… cute.” She scrunches up her nose, and Yoongi pokes her shoulder with his knee in retaliation. ‘Cute’ wasn’t his favorite word. “No, really!” she says, almost defensively, pushing his leg away with one hand as she glances up at him. It’s the first time they’ve made physical contact, but the moment goes by unremarked upon. “It’s like, if you say your name enough times, people will remember it. Remember you. It’s very subtle conditioning. I’m impressed.”

He shakes his head, fringe falling into his eyes. “Nah. My name just rhymes with a lot of things,” he admits, the corners of his mouth tugging into a small smile.

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” He reaches a hand to the back of his neck, stretching out a kink there. He’s tired, and when he’s tired he’s distracted. He doesn’t know why she’s so talkative tonight but doesn’t complain. He thinks it might be because he enjoys the sound of her voice, but that would be weird, so maybe he just enjoys a conversation that has nothing to do with work. Yeah, that sounded about right.

“Being three people at once,” she huffs, pulling herself to her feet and turning to face him, shoulder propped against the fence he’s leaning on. It’s the first time he pays attention to her face, and he realizes he’s never seen her wearing make-up before. Her raggedy hair is pulled into a knot on top of her head, cat-eyed liner behind thick frames, artificial blush coloring her cheeks. Almost pretty, he thinks absently, but not quite. He’s used to being around idols, after all.

“What do you mean?” he prompts, unable to stop an eyebrow from going up.

“Min Yoongi, Suga, Agust D,” she rattles off, holding up three fingers for emphasis. “Which is the real you?”

He scoffs, staring up at the clear, cloudless night sky. “Different versions, same person—just like everybody else. You adapt depending on who you’re talking to, and I adapt depending on the situation.”

“Nah,” she says, staring up as well, as if she’s looking for whatever’s gotten his attention. “I’m only ever just me. It’s exhausting.” She gives a heavy, dramatic sigh. “You have it so easy, being a popstar.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks in annoyance. “Stop calling me that. I’m a rapper.”

“You’re a rapper in a seven-strong boy group that performs choreographed dances to the squeals of teenage girls. You’re a rapper and a popstar,” she corrects. He can hear the smirk in her voice, can feel his hackles raising at the mocking tone he swears he hears there.

He huffs, crosses his arms in front of his chest. Feels his face twitch with annoyance. “Thanks for clearing that up for me. And here I was, having a mild existential crisis over it.”

She laughs, and he wonders if the sound has become the third person in their conversations because she’s the only one who ever does it. “Pleasure to be of service.”

“Do you get off on psychoanalyzing everyone you come into contact with? Or should I feel special?” he asks, knowing he’s being short with her but not caring. Something about the whole conversation is just rubbing him the wrong way. He isn’t out here for her candor, he’s out here for the silence. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Suddenly he hates her, just a little, for not understanding. For not picking up on his tone and understanding that he doesn’t want to talk about it. For taking a sudden step into the space he wants from her.

Suddenly he hates her, just a little, because he doesn’t know which is worse: her silence or her opinion.

She scrunches up her nose again, making her glasses slide to the end of it. It annoys him, how she doesn’t adjust them immediately, like a normal person would. “Nah, just you.” And she’s grinning like it’s meant to be a compliment instead of slightly creepy.

“It’s fascinating,” she continues, a hint of excitement coloring her normally flat tone. “How much you must go through in a day. At what point do you push back? At what point are you like, stop, I don’t want to be this product anymore, I want to be a person again. How does it feel to be part of mass brainwashing? Perpetuating this impossible standard of being? Have you ever over-compartmentalized to the point that you lose track of the boxes, like you’ve lost against a street magician’s sleight of hand?”

Yoongi’s fists clench at his sides, his limbs shaking as she speaks. She’s rambling. Rambling as if he isn’t standing right there, listening to her talk about him like a specimen under a microscope. As if she’s known him for more than six days, as if she knows anything about how much he’s sacrificed to get to where he is. Who did she think she was, to pass judgment like this? To even talk about him when she had no idea who he even was two days ago?

“You don’t know shit,” he hisses, cutting her off. She turns to him, open-mouthed. He doesn’t realize that he’s looking that closely, but he can see that her pupils are blown, eating up what’s left of the brown in her eyes. “You don’t know fuckall about me, so don’t talk about it like you do.”

“I wasn’t talking about you,” she responds, voice low but still clear as a bell between them. “Just, you know, the idea of you.” She waves a hand through the air distractedly, as if that were sufficient explanation.

“I’m not an idea!”

“Everyone’s a concept.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Invention.”

“Look, Lee.” He spits her name like a curse. “I don’t know where you get off, but if you’re going through some weird bullshit existentialist crisis, don’t pawn it off by psychoanalyzing me.”

She hunches her shoulders as he takes an angry step towards her, a look of hurt passing over her eyes. She shakes her head. “I just-” She glances at the corner of the book, poking out of his jacket pocket. “I thought you got it. My mistake.”

Without another word she rushes back inside, leaving him shaking with anger, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

What the fuck had just happened?

[“We’re all of us haunted and haunting.”]

Day 6

It isn’t until Yoongi is lying in bed that night, starting at his ceiling in the dark and replying their strange argument over in his head, that he realizes he might maybe understand what she was trying to say. He’s tired—so tired that the last thing he wants to think about is conditioning and concepts and the capitalist machine he’s found himself a cog in, but here he is, thinking about it. All because some strange, possibly insane girl had said it was fascinating. That he was fascinating. Like all of it wasn’t just how things were, like they meant something more than plain old reality.

Sure, his reality was very different from a lot of other people’s. But he had worked hard for this. Any recognition at all was better than where he was seven years ago, physically, emotionally, artistically. He loves it, every crazy, impossible, unreal minute of it. What was she seeing that he couldn’t?

Sure, half of it is a construct, but isn’t that a given in the entertainment industry? With media in general?

And yeah, if he’s being honest with himself the line between Yoongi and Suga has been getting blurrier and blurrier with each passing day, but doesn’t that just lend authenticity to the stage persona? Suga had been his idea to begin with, a way to cope with having to market a polished, desirable version of himself instead of just, well, himself.

Suga is just Yoongi on overdrive. Suga is confident, self-assured; he doesn’t have time to listen to haters and their criticism, doesn’t care if they thought he was a sell-out. Suga hits his marks 110%, never misses a cue, mugs for the cameras and makes good music. Suga is consistent. Suga had struggled, beaten his demons. Suga’s better now. The best. Suga has the fans, the recognition, the spotlight. Suga knows who he was, what he stands for.

And Yoongi is….

His train of thought stalls, careens to a full stop. Who is he these days? Where the fuck were the lines drawn anymore? Are they still even there?

He knows Suga’s story by heart because it’s his; the underground rapper from Daegu who starved and worked his ass off for his dream and made it big despite it all. But thanks to the years of constant exposure, he realizes that the little things that make him Yoongi—how he curls up into a ball to sleep, his habit of biting his pens whenever he writes, the way he slips into satoori when he isn’t paying attention, every mannerism and every detail that make up who he is—somewhere along the line, all of those things have become Suga’s characteristics instead of his.

What is left of Yoongi? Suddenly something inside of him snaps, like a twig in a flame, and he understands. Suddenly, he gets it, what she had been trying to say in her weird, roundabout way. Being three people at once, she’d said. People expect certain things from two of the personas, Suga and Agust D. But does anyone really expect anything from Yoongi anymore?

Maybe the boys? They do, after all, know him best after all these years. It’s a dance as meticulously choreographed and practiced as any of their stages, coexistence and dealing with everyone’s individual quirks. But Yoongi is just Yoongi—boring, broken, and a little bit battered by life. It’s why Suga and Agust D were created in the first place, because people don’t want to know about him at all.

They don’t want normal, they don’t want real. Nobody wants average. They want him magnified by a hundred, the kind of gigantic presence to be expected from an idol. Hell, even his problems are always blown out of proportion, from how he deals with his depression to his sexual preferences.

Except her. Maybe. All she’d asked was which version was real, as if there was no possible way all three could thrive, let alone exist, in one body. She’d wanted to know about Yoongi himself. Not about Suga or Agust D.

The thought is slightly terrifying.

Almost as terrifying as it is frustrating, because he isn’t sure he can answer the question. Suga and Agust D had taken up so much of his time, so much of who he was, that he isn’t sure there’s much left outside of it all. And that’s okay, isn’t it? It’s not like he even really cares about much beyond his career anyway—why would she?

Yoongi doesn’t want to think about why, he’s just trying to survive what and how. Trying to balance where and when without failing everyone around him, without losing sight of his goals. Trying to stay in form without burning himself out. He doesn’t need to understand how he’s keeping his shit together—the only thing that matters is that he does.

He doesn’t want to understand at all, he just wants to be.

Which version of himself, he isn’t sure. He tells himself it doesn’t really matter to anyone else but him in any case.

No one but him and, apparently, the weird girl in his therapy group.

He groans and rubs both hands over his face, knowing that his thoughts are circling back and if he doesn’t stop them now, they’ll keep wearing him down until he wants to scream. A cursory glance at the alarm clock, glowing an eerie green on his bedside, tells him he’s been thinking for two hours straight now, leaving just four left before he needs to be up for a full day of shooting.

He scowls. He doesn’t need to be thinking about this shit. He just needs to play nice, keep his head down, clear therapy and things will go back to normal. Normal, where thoughts like this don’t keep him up until the wee hours of the morning. Normal, where he isn’t constantly daydreaming about running until his heart wants to beat out of his chest, laughing like there aren’t cameras trained on him at all times, screaming until his throat is sore.

He grabs a pillow and burrows his face in it. If he wants normal, the answer is simple. He needs to stay away from Lee.

[“The best way to waste your life is by taking notes. The easiest way to avoid living is to just watch.”]

“How’s therapy going?”

Yoongi looks up to find Hoseok standing over him, a small, mellow smile on his face in contrast to his usual hundred watt one. Yoongi grunts, continues his futile attempt at trying to stretch and touch his toes without pulling a muscle.

“Eloquent, as usual,” the taller boy quips, dropping down and spreading his legs, soles propped against Yoongi’s as he takes his teammate’s hands and pulls him towards him to help stretch him out. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“You sound like Jimin,” Yoongi complains, slightly breathless from being bent over. “It’s not. The doctor’s nice. He makes sense, anyway.”

“How are the other people in the group?” Hoseok asks, starting to go into his own stretching routine.

Yoongi shouldn’t feel annoyed, really. He knows Hoseok is just checking in, being a good friend and seeing how he’s doing, but after tossing and turning the entire night with thoughts of before and after and who and what going through his head, the last thing he wants to think about is going back to therapy that evening.

“Mental,” Yoongi decides, satisfied with it as the most accurate word to describe them, the entire situation. They have about half an hour left before rehearsals start, so he kills the time by telling Hoseok about Jihoon, laughs at ever being driven that insane over a girl, how Jimin should take it easy with flirting with fans before he falls for one. About Gunwoo, unable to filter his own mouth, and they laugh about how thank god Taehyung has learned. About Minjun setting fire to everything he touches, how Yoongi is getting a little paranoid and now wants to keep matches away from Jungkook, since they’re about the same age.

He doesn’t tell him about Lee. He doesn’t feel ready to talk about her just yet, doesn’t know where to even begin explaining what she’s like and how she’d sent his brain into overdrive. He’s closest to the rap line out of the entire group; there’s no need to worry Hoseok, who has a tendency to fret about the smallest things.

“Is it helping?” Hoseok asks, rising to jump up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Helping what?” Yoongi mumbles, getting onto his own in a much less energetic fashion.

“All the talking you must be doing.” Hoseok looks around the rehearsal space distractedly. “You won’t admit it but you’ve been kind of distant, hyung. Like you haven’t been all here lately.”

Yoongi scoffs at that, pulls his facemask back over his mouth. “I’ve been here the whole time, Hobi. And it’s not like I’m going to spill my life story to a room full of strangers.”

“But it’s so liberating!” At the confused look in his teammate’s eyes, Hoseok begins to laugh awkwardly. Yoongi remembers then, that the younger man has been to dark places, too. “You’ve never done that? Just sat next to someone and unloaded whatever was bothering you? It’s liberating. You walk away one problem lighter and they’ll just think you’re a weirdo.”

“You are a weirdo,” Yoongi deadpans, but Hoseok sees the fondness in his eyes when he says it and just grins.

“We’re all mad here,” he cackles, then claps a heavy hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, making the slighter man stumble forward a step. “All I’m saying is, try talking. If you’re going to be there, then be there. Don’t just sit around waiting for it to be over. We miss you. We want you back. A hundred and ten percent.” He flashes him another grin then saunters off to join Seokjin and Namjoon in the corner, acting like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb of feelings on his teammate.

Yoongi stares after him. Takes a deep breath, lets it out. Repeats this four more times before he’s calm enough to move, before he manages to make Hoseok’s words small enough to slip into the box in his head clearly labelled “Think About Later”.

The camera crew is entering, adjusting their lens and already the maknaes are preening in front of them. He shakes his head, clearing the leftover cobwebs, finally moving to join them. He doesn’t have time for this, he reminds himself. No time for thought, no time for an existentialist crisis. That could wait. It could all wait.

[“In a world where vows are worthless. Where making a pledge means nothing. Where promises are made to be broken, it would be nice to see words come back into power.”]

Lee is late. She’s late and it’s strange because every time Yoongi has come in for a session, she’s already sitting in the back, her nose in a book. She’s late and she slides into the room, rubber soles squeaking on the flooring in a way that has him cringing, fifteen whole minutes after they reconvene after break. She mumbles an apology to Dr. Kim, plops herself down in a chair and doesn’t even bother pushing the hood of her army green jacket from her head.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. If the label can move their entire schedule around to make time for these sessions, surely she can manage to at least be on time. He’s tired and he’s hungry and in the foulest mood he can remember being in. And because she wasn’t there, he hadn’t been able to spend the break outdoors. Sure, he could have walked out on his own, but she was part of the ritual. Her and her cigarette smoke and her awkward, borderline offensive presence.

Sure, he promised himself he’d stay away from her, but he was supposed to do it first, goddammit, not the other way around.

Yoongi hates her for being late. For making him wonder if anything bad had happened to her. For making him worry that something had.

He hates her for making him feel more than he already has to.

“As I was saying,” Dr. Kim continues. “I want to see how you’re able to relate and communicate to the people around you, so we’re going to split off into pairs. No pressure, just a regular conversation. Start off by telling your partner three things about yourself that they don’t know yet, then you can talk about anything else from there. At the end I want you to tell the rest of the group what you’ve learned about them.”

He folds his arms, cupping his chin between his thumb and index finger as he considers them. “Let’s make this easy, yes? We’ll divide by peer group. Minjun, with me. Jihoon with Gunwoo, and Yoongi with Lee. You have thirty minutes.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to complain, but Dr. Kim’s back is already turned, making a beeline for Minjun’s scrawny form.

He scowls, glaring at Lee from across the room. She hasn’t moved, hasn’t even looked up from playing with the frayed sleeves of her jacket. What the hell is she waiting for? He isn’t going to get up and go to her.

The sound of a throat clearing draws his attention, and Dr. Kim is staring at him pointedly. Yoongi sighs and gets up, dragging his feet and his chair towards the other end of the room.

“Hey.”

Lee finally looks up, her face bare and pale and a little green around the edges, odd and small under that ridiculous hood. “Hey back.”

Yoongi drops his chair, sits down with the back between his legs as he folds his elbows on it. “Are you going to take this seriously?” he asks her tiredly, trying to overcome his overwhelming need to take a nap.

“I don’t know, are you?”

His head snaps up at that, grey-black eyes taking in the challenge on her face. The rest of her looks ill, like she dragged herself out of bed to be here, but her eyes are still alight with something he can’t quite pinpoint. Well, now he was awake at least.

“I don’t like you,” he tells her bluntly, unmindful and uncaring of how the words will cut her. “There, that’s one thing you didn’t know about me.”

If she’s surprised by the information, she doesn’t show it. It’s a little heartless, even for Yoongi, but he can’t help but want to lash out, especially when she’s just staring at him. Like the words don’t hurt. Like she’d actually expected them. Yoongi doesn’t like the idea that he’s predictable.

Finally, she opens her mouth. “I’m on medication,” she admits, her voice subdued and distant, as if her mind is somewhere else. Suddenly her eyes are everywhere but him, but he can’t stop looking. “They, um, kind of make everything feel fuzzy, so it calms me down. But I tend to say stupid shit when I’m on it. Ask stupid questions. All the wrong things.” Her fingers continue to pick at her sleeves as she speaks. “I know that sounds like a copout, but I just started new ones this month and I’ve been trying to get used to them.” She meets his eyes then, finally. “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”

Yoongi just stares at her, unsure what to say, tongue shoved into his cheek as he bites down on it, trying to think.

“I was out of line,” she continues, sparing him from a response for the time being. “I have no idea what your life is like. No idea what you’re like. I was just, um, guessing. And I’m sorry,” she repeats, eyes downcast, her voice getting fainter as she goes on. “It’s stupid, but my brain makes up stories whenever I see something interesting and last night I just… you’re interesting and I got carried away and I’m sorry.”

His eyes narrow, studying her to see if he can tell if she’s telling the truth. She’s fidgety, that much is certain. Her eyes keep darting from one thing to another, as if she can’t focus on one thing for too long. Her lips are pale and there’s still that odd intensity in her eyes that wasn’t there the night before. It’s also the most words she’s spoken to him combined.

“Are you on them now?”

She laughs, and for the first time he’s glad to hear it. Doesn’t realize he maybe even missed it, a little, since last night. “No. No, I- um, I didn’t take them this morning so things are….” She gestures tiredly in front of her before bringing her hand up to massage the bridge of her nose. “Everything’s a little loud. A little, um, much. Do you know what I mean?”

“Not really,” he admits. He has no idea what being on medication for anything was like outside of the strict regimen of vitamins and minerals their nutritionist has them on, except that they were supposed to make someone better, or at least something to that effect. Yeah, he’d gone to see a doctor as a teenager, but all he’d done then was talk. He still has no idea what he’s supposed to say, how he’s supposed to react, so he says the first thing he can think of.

“But I liked it better when you weren’t saying sorry every five seconds.”

It was meant to be a joke, but instead she cringes, hunching in on herself under the oversized clothes. “Yeah. Yeah, that happens when I’m actually, like, all here.” She gestures at herself awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Stop,” he groans, holding up a hand. He thought he would know how to deal with her, but now that she was like this, he was back to where he started: clueless and slightly annoyed. He chews on the corner of his mouth, trying to think. “It’s fine.” And it was. “You just have a weird way of asking questions, you know?” Because she did.

She smirks a little at that and taps her temple with her index finger. “It’s the voices. Can’t think with all of them sometimes.” His eyes go wide, and she giggles. Actually giggles, like a normal girl would. “Kidding,” she says quickly. “No voices. At least, not yet.”

He manages a small smile, then. God, this was so strange. “You’re kind of a mindfuck.”

She nods, eyes back to scanning the room. “I’ve been told. By countless mental health professionals, actually.”

“I figured it out,” he tells her, the words tumbling free before he can stop himself. She tilts her head at him, a question on her face. “Your question, I mean. I think I figured it out, anyway.” He shifts his weight, awkwardly casting his eyes around the room.

“I asked quite a few yesterday. And everything’s…”

“Much?” he suggests.

“Much,” she agrees. “Right now, at least. Which question?”

“You technically only asked one.” He can’t help but smile then, and her eyes suddenly look present, as if she’s finally able to focus on one thing and he’s it. It makes him feel a little special, because he likes to think she’s focused on Yoongi—not Suga or Agust D.

“Yeah?”

There challenge is clear and Yoongi feels his blood warm, rising to meet it. “Yeah.” She leans back into her chair, one leg bent and the other stretched out in the space between them, hanging on to his every word. “You wanted to know if I was still whole.”

“Whole,” she repeats, as if she’s tasting the word on her tongue for the first time.

“Whole.” He nods, unable to keep from smirking at the little victory. “I haven’t figured out the answer. But when I do, I’ll let you know.”

She grins, finally reaching up to fix her crooked glasses. “That sounds promising.”

“I don’t make any I can’t keep.”

“Three.”

“Mn?”

“That’s three things already.” She holds up three fingers again. “You don’t like me, you figured out the question, and you don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Only two are true.”

“The truth is subjective.”

He should feel guilty, still, but he’s pretty sure she means that he’s forgiven so he nods, leaning his cheek on his arm as they settle into the conversation more comfortably, awkward apologies out of the way. “What’s your version of it, then?”

“My life is boring,” she laughs.

“I highly doubt that,” he says, contradicting the almost-compliment with a roll of his eyes. “C’mon, hit me with your best shot.”

“Was that a Pat Benetar reference?”

“No, it was a BTS joke. Bulletproof?” She blinks, and he sighs. “My comedic genius is wasted on you. Who’s Pat Benetar?”

Her eyes go wide. “You’re kidding, right?”

“You’re not allowed to judge me, Miss I-Don’t-Listen-To-Min-Suga-Rap-Genius.”

“Is being a fangirl a prerequisite to being your friend?”

“We’re friends now?”

“God, I know right. Never bet against the universe.”

They stare blankly at each other for ten seconds before cracking a smile simultaneously. Yoongi knows he’s doing that thing again where his upper lip curls too far in, is using the smile that shows his entire upper row of front teeth and gums. He hardly uses it these days, but for some reason right now it seems appropriate.

“Go on,” he says. And she starts talking.

The rest of the session passes by with relative ease. He learns that Lee is a year older than him (“No, I’m not calling you noona”) and that she lives with two other girls in an apartment downtown. She grew up in the States, but moved to Korea when her parents cut her off. It was the cheapest flight somewhere far away, she explains. Now she works as a freelance translator. No contact with family, a handful of friends. Her time is mostly spent with books and music because according to her, “art is easier to deal with than other people.” Korea isn’t exactly the best place for someone with mental health issues, she adds.

Her life makes Yoongi feel sad for her, just a little, because it sounds so small compared to his, but her self-deprecating humor about it is enough to chase the feeling away.

He tells her about his own life, what growing up full-fledged Korean is like. About Daegu and how the world hadn’t made any sense until he first heard hiphop—how music is still the only language he can understand, can communicate in, even now. About his childhood piano teacher, and how he had such a huge crush on her (“Are you sure you don’t want to call me noona?”). About his failed attempt to learn to beatbox when he was fifteen. His family, and how good it felt to finally prove them wrong. About finally being able to bridge the gap and have them back, even though nowadays he could only manage to see them twice a year. About his new family, the people who have had his back when it’s really mattered.

About how fame was just another uphill battle, but at least this time he had people pushing him towards the top instead of dragging him down.

She smiles at that. “You’re good with words,” she tells him. The first compliment, and she doesn’t try to buffer it. Gives it freely, making his mouth turn upwards.

He shakes his head, brushing it off. “I fight with a pen, not a sword. I damn well better be good with them, or I’m screwed.”

He never was one for false modesty.

[“This is the arms race of sound. You don’t win with a lot of treble.”]

Day 7

When he finds himself three compositions deep in the studio later that night (rather, early that morning), he realizes it’s the most alive he’s felt in weeks. That it’s the most himself he’s felt in even longer.

He wonders if this is what it feels like, to be seen.

[“Even absolute corruption has its perks.”]

Day 11

Yoongi likes habits, likes patterns. He finds comfort in knowing that when they take a break, he’ll follow Lee out to the back of the building and keep her company while she smokes. He likes knowing that when he makes a snide, sarcastic comment, Lee will just laugh at him, never taking it personally. Likes knowing that when he isn’t in the mood to talk, Lee will fill the space between them with talk of art and music and life, things that have nothing to do with his reality. Likes knowing that he can be himself without having to explain, without having to make who he is palatable. Likes not having to sell an amped up version of himself. Likes being Yoongi. Just Yoongi.

He likes knowing that the fire in her eyes still hasn’t dimmed, that her pupils haven’t been blown in days. Likes thinking that maybe it has a little to do with him.

For twenty minutes out of his normally hectic day, he has this. Cigarette smoke and a strange girl sitting next to him on a pile of dead lives in an empty parking lot. The conversation is strange. Her presence is strange. How he’s been feeling lately is strange, but a good kind of strange. Like waking up in the house he grew up in with the furniture all rearranged, ready for him to make new memories in it.

In any case, it’s a welcome reprieve from always being ushered from one thing to another. He’s happy to be in one place instead of in between.

[“No detail is too minor to note.”]

Day 12

“Someone looks happy today,” Jimin muses, smirking at Yoongi as he sits beside him at their make-shift lunch table.

“We’re at MNET. I don’t see any long faces here, do you?” Seokjin jokes, elbowing Jungkook in the ribs.

Yoongi doesn’t bother rolling his eyes at his teammates, simply returns to his bowl of noodles.

“No, I agree! Hyung was really good at rehearsals earlier, too!” Taehyung quips, talking around a mouthful of his own food. That, Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at, and Taehyung takes a nervous swallow. “Not that hyung isn’t always good at rehearsals!” he corrects himself quickly.

“Energy,” Hoseok jokes in English, eyes going comically wide.

“He’s been coming home before 2AM, too,” Seokjin realizes, his pert pink lips pursing into a small “o” of surprise. “And he hasn’t threatened anyone in a couple of days!”

“Speak for yourselves,” Jungkook mumbles. “He told me he’d string me upside down by my pinky toes if I used his body wash again.”

Everyone laughs at that.

“You are, as always, the exception to the rule, Jeon Jungkookie,” Yoongi tells him, snapping his chopsticks threateningly in the air between them.

“The last couple of songs you sent over were really good, Suga,” Namjoon tells him, voice low. “Have you been insfired lately?” The taller, gangly man chortles at his own joke, but even Seokjin, sitting next to him, shakes his head and pats him consolingly on the knee when no one else reacts.

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Yoongi deadpans, reaching over for another piece of chicken.

“Yah, hyung has returned!” Hoseok lifts himself out of his chair into a dramatic pose, waving his bowl in the air. Jungkook and Taehyung chuckle, both their cheeks puffed up like chipmunks.

“Maybe we should all start going to therapy,” Namjoon jokes. Yoongi coughs, food going down the wrong pipe, and Jimin pats him on the back, quietly sliding a bottle of water in front of him.

It isn’t out of the ordinary, the whole scenario. It was normal for them to tease each other, but right then Jimin’s thoughtfulness, Namjoon and Taehyung’s compliments, Seokjin and Hoseok’s insight and concern—hell, even Jungkook’s reluctant acceptance, is overwhelming, and he can feel the emotion start to lodge in his throat.

He swipes the bottle hurriedly from the table, guzzling it down as he tilts his head back, willing the tears to retreat to where they came from.

“Poor thing,” Seokjin whispers to Namjoon as they all return to their meals and other topics of conversation.

“Eh?” Namjoon asks, oblivious to anything but his meal. Seokjin rolls his eyes and wordlessly hands him a napkin.

“Yoongi-ah,” he explains patiently, voice thrown low to avoid being overheard. “We should do something nice for him. Cheer him up. He doesn’t even need to be in that class, but he’s doing it anyway.”

Namjoon nods, realization dawning in his eyes. “Yeah, family dinner or something. Great idea, hyung.”

Seokjin smiles to himself. “I know.”

[“I need to rebel against myself. It’s the opposite of following your bliss. I need to do what I most fear.”]

“Yah, Lee.”

Yoongi jogs after her, catching up with her halfway down the main entry hall of the building. She takes out one of her headphones, pushes her glasses up her nose and pauses midstride, a now-familiar half-smirk on the corner of her mouth as she regards him.

“Yoongi. What is it?” she asks in English.

“Stop showing off,” Yoongi huffs at her, and they fall into step together the rest of the way.

He’s almost halfway through the classes, now, and the first night the studio trusts him enough to attend without security or an escort from the management team. It’s a strange sort of relief—he hadn’t appreciated being treated like a child, and it was mortifying that they knew him well enough to know he would skip them if no one was paying attention.

Granted, a car was still being sent to pick him up and take him back to the dorm, but he supposed he had a little time until then.

They push through the main doors, and Yoongi hands her back her copy of Lullaby. She accepts it with an incline of her head, sliding it into the pocket of her jacket. The days were getting even colder now. He loved it.

“Did you like it?” she asks him, already sliding another cigarette from her pack and putting in between painted lips the color of dried blood. Yoongi doesn’t realize he’s staring. “Yoongi,” she says, both eyebrows going up. “Earth to Min Yoongi,” she repeats in English, waving a hand in front of his face.

Yoongi automatically reaches up and grabs her wrist, catching it in midmotion. His hold is a little rougher than he intends, used to roughhousing with other boys, but her face just breaks into a grin, canines bared.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, realizing what he’s done and dropping her hand gracelessly. As usual, she doesn’t seem to mind and merely tucks it back in her pocket, fishing around for her lighter. “Anyway.” He huffs a warm breath into the cold air, watching it dance before ultimately dissipating. “It was confusing.”

“Was it because of the English?”

“I’m not that bad at it,” he says, a little too defensively, and she chuckles, clearly waiting for him to continue. “I didn’t know who was who for most of it.”

“Kind of a metaphor for life, though, don’t you think?” she quips in what he refers to as her Wise Mage voice in his head. “Do you wanna talk about it? Or if you have Friday night plans, that’s cool, too.”

He thinks quickly, glossing over their schedule in his head. He owes Namjoon a verse for a song, but that could wait until the following afternoon and they aren’t due to shoot until Sunday, so he shakes his head. “Yeah, I do.” He catches sight of a van pulling up into the driveway, knows it’s his ride. “Want to talk about it, I mean. There’s a coffee shop near our dorm. Let’s go.”

Her laughter follows him down the steps, and he pauses right before climbing into the car.

“It’s cute how you assume I’m going to follow you everywhere.”

He smirks, turning to find her right behind him despite her words, watching as she tucks her unsmoked cigarette behind an ear. “You’re already here, aren’t you?” She shrugs, scrunching her nose at him. “Might as well.”

She huffs a breath, glancing back at the building behind them where Dr. Kim is watching them from the open doors. “Yeah. Yeah, might as well,” she mumbles.

He rolls his eyes, grabs the front of her jacket and pulls her into the van after him, surprising a series of giggles and half-hearted complaints from her. He decides he likes this sound more than her laugh. Likes her more when she’s off her meds than on them, even if it means she’s just as sarcastic and snide and moody and melodramatic as he is. The driver slides the door shut and she twists to face him, smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

“Min Yoongi! I never had you pegged for a kidnapper!”

“I have been practicing the culling song in my head,” he grins, code-switching.

She merely rolls her eyes at him, and they spend the rest of the ride talking about Streator and the morality of murder, the curse of power, and the strength of media. They’re both too engrossed in the debate (Yoongi, of course, in on Streator’s side, but Lee is adamant that he’s an unreliable narrator—that that was the entire point) to notice when they finally pull up to the back of his building.

“We die a thousand deaths a day,” Lee is saying. “But just because you can doesn’t mean-”

Yoongi never finds out the end of her sentence, because just then the van door slides open to reveal Taehyung beaming his signature rectangular smile at them.

“Surprise, hyung! I came to pick you—oh!” The younger boy falters, brow furrowing as he tilts his head at Lee. “Hello! We didn’t know you had a friend with you!”

Yoongi frowns and leans over Lee at the mention of ‘we’ to find Jungkook behind Taehyung, a surprised, wide-eyed expression on his face. “What are you idiots doing?” he complains.

“Seokjin-hyung made us family dinner!” Taehyung explains, the first to overcome his initial surprise. “Hello, I’m V!” he says to Lee, taking a step back to let her slide out of the van.

Lee bows, a look of pained awkwardness clear on her face as she took in the strangely dressed man in front of her. “Hi, I’m Sam Lee.”

“Are you a friend of Suga’s?” Jungkook blurts out, seemingly unable to stop himself. When Lee’s gaze lands on him he takes an automatic step behind Taehyung, using the older boy to shield him.

“She’s my groupmate from therapy,” Yoongi explains, still confused as to what the fuck was happening as he joined them.

“You never mentioned her!” Taehyung says excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he grinned at the unfamiliar girl.

“You never asked,” Yoongi deadpans, glancing at Lee to find a look of subdued amusement on her face. “We were just going to grab coffee-”

“But Seokjin-hyung made dinner!” Taehyung complains.

“Who gets coffee at 10PM,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, and Yoongi glares at him.

“I do, that’s who.”

“We have coffee upstairs! It’s Bangtan dinner, hyung, and it’s for you. You can’t not go!”

“It’s fine,” Lee says quickly, catching sight of the pained look on Yoongi’s face. “We can talk about the book another time.”

“But I dragged you all the way here, and the car just left.” Yoongi gestures at the space the van had just vacated, looking apologetic.

“Join us!” Taehyung suggests, puppy-dog eyes in full force. “We don’t have company often, but any friend of Suga-hyung’s is a friend of Bangtan’s!”

Lee scratches awkwardly at the back of her neck, eyelids fluttering closed as if she was willing herself elsewhere. Yoongi’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, this being the first time he had ever seen her around other people. She had been doing better and better throughout the week, but if their conversations about it were anything to go by, the two maknaes’ presence was undoubtedly overwhelming for her. He felt fully responsible, guilty, even, for putting her in this position.

He forgets to wonder why he’s so invested.

“It’s fine,” he says quickly, wanting to spare her. “I can help you get a cab and-”

“It’s fine,” Lee echoes, interrupting him. “It’s fine,” she says again, a little more forcefully. A little more resolved. “I can take a bus,” she informs them, attempting a reassuring smile that, sadly, came out as more of a grimace that was mirrored clearly on Jungkook’s face as he watched her.

Yoongi snaps at that, grabbing her arm and pulling her aside. “I’m not letting you commute home this late at night.”

“It’s fine,” she says again, looking a little dazed at the steel undertone to his words. “I’ve done it a million times before, it’s really not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” Yoongi tells her, finally releasing his grip on her arm as he mentally ran through his options. He really should have thought things out before dragging her across town. He can’t help but think that this was why it was so hard to have friends outside of his career. “Can you stay for 30 minutes? Just long enough to eat. Then I’ll ride a cab home with you. Or I can ask Manager Sejin for a car and drive you myself. Just….” He runs a hand through his hair. “Just give me a little time to figure something out, yeah?”

“But it’s Bangtan dinner,” she mumbles, looking unsure at what that was supposed to mean but still understanding that it was important. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not,” he snaps, glaring at her. “Don’t do it. Don’t hide. Not now.”

She smirks a little at that, the corner of her mouth curling. He shouldn’t feel so relieved at the sight of it, but he does. “I won’t if you won’t.”

“Might as well,” he responds, the clench in his chest loosening the tiniest bit at the resolve in her eyes.

“Might as well,” she echoes, staring blankly at him as he slid the cigarette behind her ear free and tucked it back into her jacket pocket.

“Come on,” Taehyung calls, his patience seemingly at an end as he shoved Jungkook playfully towards the building. “Seokjin’s been cooking since 8 o’clock, and I’m starving.”

“Yah,” Yoongi complains, glaring at their backs. “We’ll be up in a second.” He turns back to her, an eyebrow quirked up in question. “Thirty minutes. You only have to deal with them for thirty minutes and I promise I’ll get you home,” he repeats, more to soothe himself than her.

She nods. “Try not to sing the culling song over dinner,” she jokes.

Yoongi laughs. The first real laugh she’s able to startle out of him, and finally, the smile on her face reaches her eyes at the sound.

“I’ll do my best. But no guarantees.”

[“Are these things really better than the things I already have? Or am I just trained to be dissatisfied with what I have now?”]

“We have a guest!” Taehyung announces, almost tripping over himself as he stumbles out of his sandals in the doorway. “Attention!” he calls, cupping his hands around his mouth to magnify the sound. “Make yourselves decent, we have a guest!”

Hoseok pokes his head out of his bedroom, bare shoulder visible from the doorway. “Eh? What do you mean, a guest?”

“Suga-hyung has a friend,” Jungkook informs him, pushing past Taehyung, a look of panic on his face as he scans the living room for anything embarrassing his teammates had left out in the open. “Put a shirt on, hurry!”

Hoseok gives a little squeak and disappears back into his room just as Jimin emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, bare chest glistening with drops of water as he runs a towel through his hair. “What are you talking about?” he asks Taehyung, laughter bubbling around his words. “Hyung doesn’t have any friends…does he?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jiminie,” Namjoon chides, having overheard the loud conversation. He tosses Jimin a shirt as he passes him. “Of course Suga has friends. We just… haven’t met them?”

“This one’s from therapy,” Taehyung singsongs, throwing himself into an armchair and propping his bare feet up on the coffee table. “She’s cute, too!”

Jungkook makes a face, shoving books back onto shelves. “Sort of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin asks curiously, slipping the proffered shirt over his head and dumping his towel back in his bedroom. “What does she look like?”

“Don’t be mean, Kookie,” Taehyung frowns, kicking a leg out at the younger boy as he walks past. “She looks like a cat,” he tells Jimin.

The blonde’s eyebrows draw together. “But Suga doesn’t like cats.”

The clatter of pans and plates echoes through the apartment, coupled with an exasperated groan from Seokjin in the kitchen. “Namjoonie, I know you mean well but I swear to god if you don’t get out of my kitchen I’m going to-”

“Okay, okay!” Namjoon emerges from the kitchen doorway, pouting as he holds both palms up in surrender. “Yah, you try to help someone…” he mumbles, plopping onto the couch and hugging a throw pillow to his stomach. “Everyone, be nice. And Jungkook, stop trying to tidy up. You’re making me dizzy.”

Jungkook slams the closet door closed, having just pushed a pile of dirty laundry in it. “But it’s a girl, hyung!” he whines, looking far younger than his twenty years.

“Is she a fan?” Hoseok asks, finally joining them fully clothed.

Taehyung shrugs. “Maybe?”

Hoseok hums, taking a seat on the couch next to Namjoon. “He didn’t mention a girl in his therapy group.”

“Maybe he wanted to keep her all to himself,” Jimin points out, waggling his eyebrows.

“None of that,” Seokjin chastises, finally emerging from the kitchen to set a pot of stew down at the table. “If Yoongi has a friend over, then we’re all going to be on our best behavior.”

“Yes, mom,” Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok and Jungkook respond in unison.

“Thank you,” Namjoon mouths, sharing a look of mutual exasperation with Seokjin.

There’s a warning knock at the front door, and Yoongi’s husky drawl filters through. “All of you better have clothes on,” he says. Another few seconds, and the door opens slowly. “Thank god,” Yoongi sighs, eyes travelling over each of his members as if mentally approving of their state of dress. “Everyone, this is Sam Lee. She’s in my therapy group. Lee, this is, uh, everyone.”

Namjoon, ever the leader, is the first to rise to his feet, cheeks already dimpling as Yoongi moves out of the doorway to let her inside. Automatically, everyone crowds behind him. “Two, three. Bangtan! Hello, we are Bangtan Sonyeondan!” they say in unison, giving their customary bow and greeting.

Yoongi’s heart warms at the sight, however unnecessary he feels it is. He glances at Lee, who’s just staring at them, looking shy of overwhelmed.

“I’m Kim Namjoon,” their leader introduces, extending a hand for her to shake.

“I’m J-Hope!” Hoseok beams next, flashing her a wink.

“I’m Park Jimin!” the dancer says, eyes already in crescents as he shoots Yoongi a smirk.

“Jungkook,” their youngest mumbles, giving a small wave from the other end of the living room.

“I’m Jin,” Seokjin introduces, smiling warmly at her. “Now get out of your coats and out of the doorway! The food is getting cold!” he calls over his shoulder, already bustling back towards the kitchen.

“He’s our mom,” Taehyung whispers conspirationally to Lee, smiling vacantly as he follows his teammates to the dining area.

“Nice to meet you all?” Lee says to their retreating backs, voice faint.

“You okay?” Yoongi asks her, slipping his coat off and leaning over her to hang it on his peg.

She seems startled by the question, but nods after a few seconds. “Uh, do I have to take this off?” she gestures at her jacket, and Yoongi realizes he’s never seen her without her oversized layers.

“It’s warm inside,” he points out, eyes narrowing at her. “What do you have on under it?”

“Clothes,” she responds. “Never mind, it’s fine.” At the incredulous look on his face, she shoves him in the shoulder. “It’s fine,” she repeats.

“You’ve said that twenty times in the last fifteen minutes,” Yoongi teases, watching her slip off the jacket. He’s a little surprised to find that she’s actually… attractive, underneath it. She’s wearing a black and white striped sweater dress, still two sizes too large for her frame, but it manages to drape nicely over the curves he hadn’t realized she’d been hiding the whole time. The way her black jeans hug her legs also doesn’t go unnoticed. It wasn’t a body that belonged to an idol, just…it belonged to a normal girl. Same as the countless other coordi-noonas they worked with on a daily basis. Still, Yoongi can’t help but stare.

“Help me,” Lee pleads, jolting him from his thoughts. “I didn’t catch everyone’s names.”

He laughs again at that, remembering that she had no idea who Bangtan was. He fills her in quietly on their short walk to the dining table, entertained at the odd situation. “Namjoon is the tall one with dimples. He’s a rapper. Likes to read. Seokjin is the eldest. Singer. Likes to cook. Jimin, the blonde one. Dancer. Don’t listen to anything he says. Hoseok, or J-Hope, but we call him Hobi. The one with the red hair. Dancer and rapper, occasional ray of sunshine. Taehyung, you met him downstairs. Singer. Don’t listen to anything he says either. Jungkook, official pain in my ass. Singer, dancer, rapper, golden child.”

She nods, looking a little green around the edges as they finally reached the table. Two empty seats were sandwiched on the far side, with Seokjin on one end and Hoseok on the other. Yoongi shoots Seokjin a grateful look at the obvious manipulation of their usual places, which the older boy just smiles knowingly at in return.

“Let’s eat!” Jimin cheers as the two finally settle in.

“Ready to be entertained?” Yoongi mumbles to her, and she shoots him an amused look.

“Everything looks delicious,” Lee says politely to Seokjin, who beams.

“It tastes better than it looks,” he winks, ladling food onto her plate.

“Except the rice,” Taehyung announces, making a face. “Who made the rice?”

“I did,” Namjoon says meekly, looking pale as he stares down at the bowl.

“How on Earth do you screw up rice?” Hoseok laughs.

“Namjoon, how many times to I have to tell you to stay out of my kitchen?” Seokjin complains, waving a spoon threateningly across the table.

Yoongi rolls his eyes at the display. Bangtan dinners were usually loud and chaotic, but it was clear that everyone was making an effort just by the fact that no one, not even Jimin, was on their phones. He makes a mental note to do something nice for all of them the following day. Maybe order breakfast or something.

He had to admit to himself that it was strange seeing all of his teammates around a new person without cameras pointed at them. At this point in their careers, slipping into the personas was almost second-nature, but after getting up before dawn to film and a dance practice shoved into their usual dinner hours, he was sure that they were all too exhausted to put up much of an act.

So when Namjoon starts asking Lee about her hobbies and the two start discussing their favorite books, Yoongi knows he’s genuinely enjoying the conversation. When Lee automatically gets up to help with the dishes after dinner, heaping compliments onto Seokjin, Yoongi knows their eldest is completely enamored with her. When she asks Taehyung what kind of music he listens to as they dry dishes and the two start belting out in unison to a Western song he doesn’t know, he knows that Taehyung will be asking to have her over again soon.

As they settle into the living room for tea and coffee and Lee asks Hoseok to show her videos of him dancing, Hoseok flushes but gives in, appreciating the interest shown in one of his passions. After watching the trailer for Boy Meets Evil, she admits that she’s never seen a BTS music video before, the team eagerly complies, to Yoongi’s inexplicable disdain.

When the first words out of her mouth when they show her Blood Sweat & Tears is “Park Jimin!”, he knows that Jimin’s going to be gloating about it for the next three days. And when Jungkook’s phone rings and she asks if he plays Overwatch (how she had been able to recognize the otherwise generic crescendo of notes, Yoongi has no idea), Jungkook spends ten entire minutes gushing to her about his favorite game—a complete 360 turn from the distance he had kept from her all throughout dinner.

But most surprising of all is Lee herself. She’s good at reading people, that much Yoongi could admit, but she isn’t that good. Not good enough to skillfully charm the pants off all his teammates without them even realizing it. He feels a bit cheated, if he’s being honest with himself; if he had known she would do this well around new people, he wouldn’t have bothered acting so concerned.

He feels like he had wasted precious energy making her feel comfortable when she was clearly getting along with everybody better than anyone else in recent memory. Why do I even bother, he thinks as he makes his way to the door to receive the car keys to a black sedan that Manager Sejin had sent over for his use. It’s only when he returns to the living room and finds her in the middle of the couch surrounded by six men avidly watching her go pink at their music video for Dope that he realizes just how inexplicably annoyed he is by the entire situation.

“How is this allowed on television!” she exclaims, the most emotional he’s ever seen her as she presses her sweaterpaws to her face, watching the first dance break. “Oh my god,” she breathes in English as Hoseok, dressed as a racecar driver, jumps on screen. “This is lewd! No, this is just outright rude. How are you not walking around with R ratings on your foreheads?”

“We should use that as a line in the next cypher,” Namjoon jokes, passing his bag of chips to Taehyung, who happily munched on them as he sat on the floor.

“There’s hip thrusting!” Lee cries, still fully immersed in the video, looking close to tears as she completely covers her face with her hands. “I could have lived my entire life without this torture,” she whimpers.

“Is it bad?” Jimin, ever anxious about their performances, asks worriedly from beside her.

Lee finally emerges from behind her hands, looking at him incredulously. “Park Jimin, you wash your mouth out with soap.” When the blonde simply blinks at her, she realizes she had slipped into English again and translates to Korean, explaining the phrase. “It is the farthest thing from bad!” she continues. “It’s just....” She finally looks around the room, at all of them watching her intently, and Yoongi can see her physically fight for composure. “It’s…very good. Very, very good. I feel kind of ashamed now, that I hadn’t heard about you guys sooner,” she admits, looking genuinely sorry for the fact.

“We’re happy to introduce you to the awesomeness that is Bangtan Sonyeondan!” Taehyung quips. “Does anyone else find it strange to introduce ourselves to someone?” he whispers loudly, leaning over to Jungkook.

“Your ego is getting to your head, V,” Jungkook laughs, pushing the other boy’s weight off him.

“We’re glad you like our music, Lee,” Seokjin grins, patting the back of her hand soothingly.

“Wait until we make you listen to RapMon’s Expensive Girl,” Hoseok grins. Namjoon promptly throws a pillow square at his face.

“None of that, or I’m asking for an earlier deadline for your mixtape,” their leader warns, which prompts a tirade of complaints from Hoseok about him abusing his power.

“I thought you said you listened to our music?” Yoongi asks, more than a little fed up as he knees Jimin out of the way to take a seat on the couch next to her.

“I listened to Agust D and your songs for Suran,” Lee replies, picking up on his bad mood. “And, um, War of Hormone, I think. I’m sorry?”

“Tch,” he huffs, turning back to face the television. He doesn’t know why he’s gone from feeling warm and fuzzy about the situation to being outright aggravated. He wants her to listen to his music. He was proud of his career. He just hadn’t counted on her listening to BTS in front of all of them, with matching music videos to boot. Hadn’t counted on how awkward it would make him feel, how hungry for validation. How hurt that she hadn’t paid him a bit of attention or a single compliment when she had given them generously to everyone else.

Besides, she was here to talk to him. He already had to share everything else with everyone, did he really have to share her too?

“Is Suga-hyung your bias?” Jimin asks playfully, leaning around Yoongi to look at Lee.

“Bias?” the girl repeats, looking clueless.

Namjoon rolls his eyes just as Seokjin shoots Jimin a look of warning. “It’s a kpop fandom thing,” he explains patiently. “Like, out of a group, who your favorite is. It’s nonsense, really. You aren’t required to have one. Hell, you aren’t even required to be ARMY just because we’re friends now.” Lee’s expression doesn’t change, so he explains their fanbase, the fondness in his tone evident.

“It’s Suga-hyung,” Taehyung whispers loudly again to Jungkook as Lee asks Namjoon about he deals with being the leader even though he isn’t the eldest. “I bet you 50,000 won on it.”

“Deal,” Jungkook replies immediately. “My money’s on Hobi-hyung.”

“Behave, you two,” Seokjin reprimands, throwing a pillow at the pair. “Besides, it’s clearly me,” he adds, settling back beside Lee and stealing her attention from Namjoon with a wink.

“Why is no one betting on me?” Jimin demands with a pout.

Lee turns to him, looking a little lost in the conversation. “Well, Jin is the main dancer,” she says carefully. Everyone stares at her open-mouth for a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

“Oh my god,” Hoseok wheezes in English. “My heart!” he exclaims, falling on top of Jimin, who had slid to the floor in his fit of laughter.

Lee just blinks at Yoongi. “Did I say something wrong?”

He rolls his eyes and wearily gets to his feet. “Enough fun and games. I’m taking Lee home now. Say goodbye.”

“Boo!” Taehyung complains, throwing a handful of chips at him. “Can’t you guys stay a little longer?” he whines. “I haven’t even gotten to show noona my tie collection!”

“I’m sure Yoongi-ah will bring Lee over again,” Seokjin says, ever the mediator. He blows her a kiss as she gets to her feet after Yoongi. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sam Lee! Let’s eat again soon!”

She gives each of them a deep bow in turn. “Thank you for having me over, Bangtan Sonyeondan,” she says seriously. “And thank you for sharing your work!”

Hoseok flashes her a sappy smile from the floor. “Does everyone else feel warm and fuzzy? I do.”

Lee turns pink, and Yoongi tugs at her sleeve, jiggling the car keys in front of her face. “Let’s go,” he repeats.

“I have my key,” he says to Namjoon. “Don’t stay up.”

“Oooh,” Jimin singsongs, already climbing over Hoseok to stare after them, bellydown on the floor with his chin cradled in both palms. “Drive safe, Suga-hyung!”

Yoongi just rolls his eyes, tossing Lee’s jacket at her as he slips into his own. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles.

“Sorry that took longer than thirty minutes,” he tells her as they stand in opposite corners of the lift. “You looked like you enjoyed yourself, though.”

She nods absently, playing with the zipper pull of her jacket. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to talk more about Lullaby,” she offers, sounding genuinely repentant. “But you really don’t have to drive me-”

“It’s fine,” he grunts, feeling a bit mollified with her apology.

“Did Namjoon mean that?” Lee finally asks him as they buckle their seatbelts.

“What?” He doesn’t even bother to look at her as he backs out of the parking space.

“That we’re all friends.”

He glances at her then, at the wistful look she has in her eyes as she stares through the windshield. Not knowing what to say, he just shrugs and continues to pull out of the lot.

“Yoongi,” she says, her hand reaching out to rest on his on the gearshift, fingertips light as they brush the back of it. “Are we friends? I mean, I know I joked about it but….” She trails off, looking nervous. “I really want to be.”

It’s funny to him how the countless small touches they’ve exchanged before pale in comparison to this one. The first one he’s ever really paid attention to, because of the way it manages to dissolve the rest of the tension and annoyance in his body at their evening. One touch and a handful of words, and he’s gone all soft like, like some sort of… soft thing.

“Yeah,” he manages to croak, pulling his eyes away from her and back onto traffic. She hums, taking her hand back.

“Good. That’s good.”

We die a thousand deaths a day, she had said. Yoongi suddenly feels like he’s dying one of them.

[“Anymore, no one’s mind is their own.”]

Day 16

He wishes they would stop talking about her.

It’s been a week, almost, and none of them will shut up about her.

Of course Yoongi knows she’s cool. Different. Innocent, even. Appreciates that she’s so far removed from their lives and how much of a relief that is. As much as he loves the recognition they’ve received with this comeback, it was still nice to be able to take a step back and not be Bangtan, even for a little bit out of every day. Hell, even Namjoon’s girlfriend had been a fan before they’d met. So had Jungkook’s, if the little brat’s bragging was to be believed. Meeting Lee had been such a novel experience for everyone, and he tried his best not to fault them for it, but she was his. His friend. His reprieve.

Not theirs.

It doesn’t help him focus, either, when Hoseok keeps asking questions about her that he doesn’t know the answers to, or when Seokjin asks when she’s coming back over for dinner. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t want her back at their dorm, wants to keep her separate from that aspect of his life.

He’s glad that Lee never brings them up. Goes back to their routine without a second thought. Back to arguing about paradigm shifts and artist motivations and whatever the hell else she usually babbled on about. Back to the cold fall air, the smell of cigarettes and laughing that strange, barking laugh of hers. Back to looking at Yoongi like he’s the only thing she can focus on, to reaching for his arm as they walk outside like he’s the only thing keeping her tethered.

Back to making him feel like he’s wholly himself and not a construct like she had asked all those days ago.

Back to being his.

[“We’re landscaping the whole world one stupid mistake at a time.”]

Day 18

“When was the last time you felt alive?”

Yoongi looks up from his half-hearted attempt at writing lyrics in his notebook, finds her sitting right in front of him, her knees touching his. Half her face is hidden by a laughably oversized knit scarf, her glasses pushed to the top of her head, deep-set brown eyes watching him.

Dr. Kim had been talking about impulse control just ten minutes prior, about taking a few seconds to consider their actions before going through with them. Yoongi already knows all about that. About biting his tongue and reigning in his sharpness, simultaneously dulling the most unappealing aspects of himself to something everyone could love. About modulating his voice just so to make an entire arena of people erupt in cheers. All about how to use every muscle in his body to convey the right message, how to curb his impulses and stay in line.

Yoongi knows all about control. There was virtually nothing Dr. Kim could teach him in regards to that.

So when Lee asks about feeling alive he can’t help but feel a little confused at the question, at the niggling feeling in the back of his head that they’ve had this conversation before.

He slowly takes the pen out of his mouth and returns the cap. Closes his notebook and rests his chin in his hand, an elbow propped on his knee. Meets her gaze full on, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. “I literally sweat a gallon on the floor of the dance studio this afternoon. Does a heart rate of 195 count as feeling alive?” he asks her sarcastically, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Yeah, but did you have fun?” she huffs, reaching out and attempting to flick him on the nose.

He dodges expertly, sending her a half-hearted scowl. “Dancing is fun.”

“Work isn’t fun,” she insists. He usually hates when she refers to what he does during the day as ‘work’, even if she’s technically right. He doesn’t have much outside of his career, but he likes it that way.

“My work is fun. Just because you hate yours doesn’t mean I have to.”

“When you get paid to do what you love, doesn’t it make you love it less?”

He pretends to consider the idea for a moment before giving her a flat “no,” already uncapping his pen to write the words down before they run away from him again.

“I’m serious, Yoongi,” she complains, sliding his notebook quickly from him and hugging it to her chest as hostage for his attention. “When was the last time you had fun for the hell of it? When was the last time you took a break?”

“I have fun every day,” he snaps, trying to grab his notebook back but she just scrambles out of his reach. “Have you ever seen an episode of Run BTS?”

“Work doesn’t count.”

“Work always counts.”

“You’re impossible.” She finally tosses his notebook back into his lap, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t you want to take a break?”

He rolls his eyes at her. “It’s a Monday night and I can’t exactly go out to middle of Gangnam to do what, karaoke?”

“Okay, I’m going to let your outright insult of the great Korean past time that is karaoke slide.” She tucks another cigarette between her lips, lighting it expertly with a single smooth motion. “But why can’t you? Do you have to go back to the studio?” she asks, smoke trailing around the question.

He watches, wondering if he’ll ever get not be mesmerized by the sight. “Not really, but I’m not in the mood to play nice with fans.”

“Right. That,” she agrees with a little twist of her mouth. He laughs then, at the fact that she’s treating his being an idol as a secondary thing. Like the very real possibility of getting mobbed by sasaeng fans was a small inconvenience. “Well, we don’t have to go out to have fun.”

“Why aren’t you letting this go?” he whines, tossing his head back and shifting his weight to both arms as he leans back on them.

“Because I need to get out of my head for a bit, Yoongi,” she answers seriously.

He pulls his head back upright at that, tilting it questioningly at her. “Everything okay?”

She shrugs, visibly shrinking into her parka. “Yeah. It’s fine. It’s just….” She slides her glasses on with a swift nod of her head, lets out another puff of smoke. “I just want to do something fun.”

“Okay, you’re no longer allowed to say ‘it’s fine’. You say it so often the words have lost all meaning,” he reprimands, and she makes a face at him. “What do you feel like doing?”

A grin spreads slowly across her face then, and Yoongi feels his heart drop into his stomach. He doesn’t like the look of it. It looks like trouble, and trouble is the one thing, apart from going out in public, that he was definitely not in the mood for.

“How do you feel about going for a drive?”

[“The voice says, maybe you don’t go to hell for the things you do. Maybe you go to hell for the things you don’t do. The things you don’t finish.”]

An hour and some skillful manipulation later, Yoongi’s behind the wheel of a car, driving to the edge of the city. Lee’s suggestion to go for a drive had been reasonable, more so than the other possible requests he had feared, so he hadn’t hesitated to agree.

He tells himself that this was what friends did—give and take. He had relented because that was what they were. Friends. Not because he wanted her to feel better or anything like that. Not like he wanted to do something that would make her happy.

Her phone is plugged in to the stereo as she leans out of the window with her eyes closed, her brown hair whipping across her face as she sings under her breath to a Miso song, an already half-empty bottle of soju on her lap. It’s a small thing, insignificant in the grander scheme of things, but Yoongi finds that he likes this. Likes driving in the middle of the night towards nowhere with nothing but the road and music to occupy his thoughts. Likes the heat of a little alcohol in his system, enough to keep him relaxed without making everything fuzzy. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t done this before.

“If you could do anything in the world right now, what would it be?” she asks, breaking the comfortable silence they’ve found themselves in.

He glances at her, finds that she’s leaning on her arm as she smiles absently at him. He straightens his shoulders the tiniest bit under her gaze. “Play a sold-out arena,” he jokes, taking a random exit off the highway.

“Yah, you impossible thing, Min Yoongi,” she complains with a drunken giggle. “I forget that you’re famous, sometimes.”

“Good,” he responds, voice a little huskier than usual as he swipes the bottle from her lap and takes a sip.

“Good? It’s not a blow to your ego that I’m not part of the Min Suga fan club?” she teases.

He chuckles, blindly handing her back the bottle and watching her take a swig from the corner of his eye. “You’re a member of the Min Yoongi fanclub. That’s enough for me.”

“Of course!” she quips sarcastically. “Not that you’re greedy or anything, mister A to the G to the U to the STD.”

“Mister? That sounds nice. Say it again,” he grins.

“Mister Min Yoongi,” she sings to the tune of whatever song was playing. “Good with rap but sings way off-key!”

He laughs, the alcohol bubbling in his system. “Yah, I might just have to kick you out of the club for that.”

“Oh god, anything but that!” she says dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Where the hell are you taking us?” she asks, turning her face back towards the window.

“No idea,” he shrugs. “You said drive and I’m driving.”

“I love this,” she sighs dreamily a few minutes later, eyes fluttering shut against the wind. “Hey Yoongi, have you ever been in love?” she asks absentmindedly, sticking a hand out and waving it along the air current.

The question takes him aback for a second, makes him glance at her with his brow furrowed in confusion as he tries to think through his buzz. “Once. Maybe. I don’t know. Can you really call it love at fourteen?”

“Puppy love,” she giggles in English.

It’s unchartered territory for the both of them. He doesn’t know how she can still look so relaxed when he suddenly feels cold from the fall air whipping at them through the open windows. They’d talked about a multitude of other things over the last three weeks, but never their relationships. He’s always been guarded about it, used to prying eyes and overeager journalists that would jump on the slightest slip of the tongue, but he knows she isn’t fishing. Knows that she’s asking to get to know him better. He tries to calm down by reminding himself that relationships were a big deal to most people. Most people but him.

He absently wonders if there’s something wrong with him in that aspect.

“Have you?” he manages to ask, thinking it only polite to turn the question back at her if she had brought it up.

“All the time,” she admits, still smiling absently out the window. “It’s silly but I fall in love with the strangest things. The way light hits puddles of gasoline on asphalt. The way a stranger will coo over a baby in a stroller. The way someone mixes their sugar into their coffee….” Her voice trails off abruptly, as if she had wanted to say something else afterwards, but he lets it slide.

“That sounds exhausting,” he tells her, because it does. “How can you fall in love with everything all the time?”

“Because it’s easier than falling in love with just one thing,” she laughs, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She finally turns to face him, tucking her knees up to her chest. Takes another sip of soju, handing it over to him automatically afterwards. He drains the bottle, finds that the heat of it going down is soothing, almost as much as the sound of her voice. “Besides, don’t you think the world needs more of it?”

“The world can burn,” he tells her. “As long as I can make music, I don’t care if it burns.”

“Then you’re in love, too, Yoongi. Just with a thing instead of a person.”

There’s her Wise Mage voice again. He can almost feel the knowing smile on her face as she says it, as if she’s figured out some hitherto unknown secret of the universe and is imparting it on him. As if she’s figured it all out and is letting him in for the ride.

The roads are empty in front of them, nothing but streetlights and the occasional car zooming past in the other direction. He slows the car down a bit, chancing a glance at her. “How can you even tell?” he wonders out loud.

“That you’re in love?” He hums in the affirmative, and she turns, angling her shoulders back towards the window. “You just do, I guess. I mean, it’s never like in the movies, right? Not everyone gets love at first sight, or a great love for the ages. It just is, like it’s been there the whole time. Maybe one day you wake up and just know, you know?” She laughs at herself then. “I’m not making any sense am I?”

“A little, I guess,” he offers kindly. “I just… I’ve never been so I have absolutely zero input on this topic.”

“Don’t worry, Yoongi,” she grins, reaching a hand out to rub him on the arm soothingly. “You’ll meet a gorgeous girl someday and fall head over heels. Probably another idol, or a musician whose work you love. You’ll get married and have a billion babies and ride happily ever after off into the sunset.”

He cracks a wry smirk at that. He had to admit that he’d never thought about it much outside of having to write a verse for a love song, but watching a couple of dramas and romantic comedies had been enough inspiration then. How she had pictured it just didn’t sound like anything he wants, and he tells her so. “She can burn, too. I don’t want to end up with an idol. Or with a million babies. How the hell am I supposed to pay for college?”

She laughs as he finally pulls the car over into a dirt parking lot lined by trees. “You say that now, but when it happens you won’t have a choice.”

He reaches over her, grabbing an unopened bottle of soju at her feet and cracking it open with a relieved sigh. “There’s always a choice,” he corrects absentmindedly, downing half of it in one gulp.

“That’s true,” she relents, and he cocks an eyebrow at her.

“Did you just let me win an argument?”

“We were arguing?”

“Aren’t we always?” He rolls his eyes exasperatedly at her, and she giggles, swiping the bottle from him and taking a sip.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“It’s dark out.”

“Scared?”

He hopes she doesn’t see him gulp. “You wish.”

She grins and unbuckles her seatbelt, and in the next moment Yoongi finds himself trailing after her as she picks her way haphazardly down a dirt path through the trees, humming another song he doesn’t know under her breath, puffs of warm air trailing from their mouths as they trudge along.

It isn’t snowing, and Yoongi thanks his lucky stars for the fact as much as he damns them, because it’s cold enough out in the woods to feel like it is.

“Yah, Lee,” he calls after a few miles, pausing and propping his palms on his knees to catch his breath, a stitch in his side and the cold November air too crisp in his lungs, eating up the buzz he had managed to build on the drive over. “Hold on,” he wheezes, hating himself for getting roped into a fucking hike. He hates exercise, hates the outdoors. Hell, right now he even hates that their short trek is worth it, with moonlight filtering in through the gaps in the leaves to leave puddles of silver on the ground, making the layer of frost on the trees look like glass, crunching with every movement.

She skips back towards him, smiling down at the clutch of fallen leaves she’s collected, each the size of her face. “Look at these, aren’t they beautiful?” she calls over, holding them out proudly. The contented smile on her face quickly disappears as she takes in the way his hands are shaking, the way his lower lip is quivering, and the leaves flutter to the ground around her as she comes running.

“Jesus Christ, Yoongi,” she complains. “You’re freezing.” Without a second thought she loops her ridiculous scarf over him, tucking his hands into the pockets of her parka and covering them with her own, thumbs running over his knuckles.

“I t-told you it was dark out,” he complains, voice muffled under the fabric.

“You didn’t tell me you were so sensitive against the cold,” she reprimands, unzipping both their outer layers and taking a step closer. He leans automatically into her warmth, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“Suh-says thuh girl who lives in juh-jackets,” he stammers out, and he can see her roll her eyes.

“We’re guh-oing to get eaten by a wuh-wild animal,” he continues to whine, tucking his head further into the scarf while simultaneously using his hands to pull her into him, hungry for the warmth that feels like it’s coming off her in waves. “The great muh-Min Yoongi, brought down by a bear. I hope it’s Kumamon.”

“That would make for a great headline,” she agrees, humoring him as she adjusts the scarf between them. “I can see it now: Popstar dies of mascot attack in Seoul.”

He just grunts at her, hands fisting in the fabric of her pocket, and her hands move to his back, rubbing small circles into it. He’s never realized how small she is until now. What was she, five one? Five foot two? Whatever her height is, she’s tiny and hot as a furnace as she stands against him, the top of her head barely reaching his chin as she rubs her hands up and down and around, warm breath tickling his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. He really should have dressed warmer, but it’s not like he’d known they were going to end up in the middle of nowhere.

“Is this okay?” she asks after a few moments. “Are you feeling better?”

Yoongi reminds himself that this indeed was okay. This was what friends did, right? They dragged each other out on drunken hikes in the middle of the night and used each other’s body heat to stay alive. The thought is so ridiculous he wants to laugh, but his face freezes against the wind that chooses that precise moment to pick up. He slouches further into the scarf just as she tilts her head up, temple resting against his cheek. He wonders if she has a fever, if he does and that’s why it feels so surreal to have her standing so close to him.

His reality was fucked up, in his opinion. Wasn’t he just hot and sweaty not that many hours ago, halfway to unconsciousness on the floor of the dance studio? Then he was sitting bored out of his mind, listening to Dr. Kim drone on in their therapy session, then tipsy as he drove mindlessly towards nowhere in particular. A couple more hours and he would be warm and blessedly in bed, and tomorrow he would be back in the studio, finishing the track he started the night before.

But for now… for now he’s standing in unfamiliar woods with nothing but shafts of moonlight glowing placidly on the path before him, regrettably sober in face of the cold as he considers the very real possibility that he’s going to freeze his ass off. That is, if a bear doesn’t get to them first.

Lee shifts, and he abandons the train of paranoid thought, comes crashing back to the present. The present, where he has her pressed against him, all warmth and curves and the smell of cigarette smoke and soju, rubbing life back into his torso. Where they’re just Lee and Yoongi, standing in the middle of the goddamn woods, her humming again under her breath.

Maybe reality isn’t so bad, he concedes.

He finally groans, sick of the mental battle he had just waged with himself for no reason. Be present, Hoseok had told him the other week. Like he had a choice when his present was currently freezing cold.

“If you tell me you’re falling in love with this, too, I might just have to leave you here,” he tries to joke, his jaw finally warming up enough to talk.

She laughs at that, her breath trailing across his collarbone like a caress. “Maybe,” she rasps. “But just a little bit.”

[“No matter how much you love someone, you still want to have your own way.”]

Day 25

Since their failed attempt at having a “fun night out,” Yoongi’s been paying more attention. More attention to the way more leaves are turning brown, to the way the tree behind the university building is getting more and more bare by the day. To his teammates and their unique ways of navigating through their strange world, how they slip in and out of their stage personas with ease and without giving up too much of who they are. To the way he reacts to certain stressors and how he deals with them without forfeiting his honesty with himself. To how proud he is of himself for the countless small victories he now manages in a day.

More attention to Minjun, who’s finally stopped carrying his lighter around. To Jihoon, who can finally get through a session without sobbing. To Gunwoo, who looks as stressed as ever but at least has stopped bringing his phone into the room.

To Lee, who’s the same except not. Who is, apparently, a human furnace under the oversized clothes. Who still wears the same vintage glasses, still wears lipstick the color of dried blood on Wednesdays and Wednesdays only, still smokes cigarettes like they’re the secret to a long and happy life.

Lee, who until now hasn’t caught up to the reality that he’s an idol. Who still treats him like a person instead of a popstar, like what he does is a job and like he’s whole and sane and normal underneath it all. Like he’s Yoongi. Like that’s all that matters.

And Yoongi… Yoongi is the same except not. He’s still moody and anxious and part of him still hates the stage as much as he loves it. Still as conflicted about his life and his art and still plagued with the same insecurities that have been hounding him since he had been old enough to want this life. Still Suga and Agust D and a member of Bangtan and a son and a friend and a brother. Still just as hard on himself and on his work. Still working just as fast and just as ruthlessly as the rest of them to keep the dream going.

But he’s paying more attention now. Was making more of an effort to be present. Was preening more in front of the cameras and fans as the rest, cracking more jokes and giving more input instead of letting the label make all the decisions. He’s fighting again, for the first time in what’s felt like years. To make the music he wants to, to say the things he wants to, to be the person he wants to.

He thinks he understands what Hoseok was telling him, then. What Lee has probably been teaching him this whole time. To fall in love with everything, every moment, instead of being a by-stander. To be present, no matter how overwhelming it is, no matter how much he wants to shy away from it for fear of people seeing through the façade.

He’s being Yoongi again. And for the first time, he doesn’t feel the least bit sorry about it.

[“Sticks and stones may break your bones but words can hurt like hell.”]

Day 28

“Hello, Mr. Min. Take a seat.”

Yoongi bows a greeting towards Dr. Kim as he slips into his office, does as he’s told on the worn brown leather sofa across him.

The office looks and smells the way he expects it to, the way he’s seen on countless movies and shows; a desk on one end, a sofa pushed up against the wall, the doctor sitting on an armchair across the coffee table. It smells like old books and potpourri, and he fidgets awkwardly in his seat, wondering why he’s so nervous for their first and hopefully only one-on-one session.

Dr. Kim smiles reassuringly at him, as though he knows it will help put him at ease. It does. He doesn’t know why but it does, and he allows himself to relax a little, slouching onto the couch cushions.

“How are you doing today?”

“Good,” he answers automatically. “Thank you for asking.”

The older man hums and nods at that, as though he had expected the answer, turning to look at what Yoongi assumes is his file in his hands. “I see here you were diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder when you were fifteen. How are you doing with that?”

“Good.” Yoongi winces at the repetition. Tries again. “I mean, I still have bad days, but I’m dealing with it better.”

“You have,” Dr. Kim assures him. “We’ve made leaps and bounds over the course of our sessions.” He peers at him over his glasses then, and Yoongi feels like the man is looking straight through him instead of at him. “To be perfectly honest I was apprehensive about putting you into group therapy. I wasn’t sure you would be able to open up around other people, progress with them, but your management was adamant about it. I take it you had a lot to do with that?”

Yoongi swallows, breaking eye contact awkwardly. “I’m not good with talking about feelings,” he admits gruffly, eyes squinting to read the titles on the bookshelf.

“Because you have a lot of them?” Dr. Kim infers, and Yoongi nods meekly at his accuracy. “The sessions aren’t so much about anger management than they are about impulse control, as I hope you’ve learned.”

Yoongi nods. “Figured that out the first day. The people in the group aren’t exactly… violent. Well, except for Jihoon, but that was a fluke.”

“And neither are you,” Dr. Kim says, glancing down at the file again. “The incident with one of your band mates… Jeon Jungkook?”

He leans forward, then, elbows on his knees as he rubs a hand tiredly over his face. “That was a fluke too,” he states, hating the way his voice sounds like it’s pleading with him. “We punk each other all the time. Kookie just went a little too far and I might have reacted a little too… strongly.”

“That’s all well and good, but it still got you here. Do you understand why your management had to send you to therapy?”

“Because I’m the most unstable out of everyone,” he says automatically. At the sight of Dr. Kim’s eyebrow going up, he clears his throat. “I mean, I tend to keep a lot in. I told you, I’m not good with talking about feelings.”

“Your bandmates said as much, when they came in.”

It’s Yoongi’s turn for his eyebrow to go up.

Dr. Kim just smiles. “Your friends Kim Namjoon and Jung Hoseok came in before you started therapy. They gave me a little more background about you, a better idea of who you are and how you’d been doing before all this. Out of concern, you understand. There is, after all, only so much doctors can infer from a patient. Talking to their friends and family always gives us a better picture.”

“They….” Yoongi’s eyes dart around, unable to focus on any one thing in particular but unwilling to meet the other man’s eyes just then. Still trying to wrap his head around the fact that two of his teammates had taken time out of their impossible schedule to look out for him. “I can’t believe they did that,” he finally admits, shoulders hunching.

“Are you surprised?”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah. Fuck yeah I’m surprised. What did they say?”

Dr. Kim leans back in the armchair, elbows on the armrests as he steeples his fingers together. “Just that you hadn’t been your normal self lately. That they felt a little hurt that you didn’t feel you could talk to them, but that they were glad you were going to get the chance to in therapy.”

Yoongi shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “Idiots.”

“Far from, Mr. Min. Mr. Kim and Mr. Jung were simply acting out of concern. It’s very reassuring to know that you have a good support system behind you. I don’t see why you’re reacting to this with anger. Could you explain why?”

Yoongi just keeps shaking his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “It’s just… they know better. They know I’ll go to them when I really need to.”

“Ah, but Mr. Min, the key here is turning to people before you need to. Before the pressure builds up and another unsavory incident occurs. You mentioned before that music is your primary outlet for your emotions?”

Yoongi nods. “I don’t know if you listen to rap, Dr. Kim, but it’s very aggressive. It’s been the best way to deal with my anger and anxiety. At least, that I’ve found.”

Dr. Kim just hums again. “I’ve listened to your music, Mr. Min. You’re very transparent with your lyrics. Far more transparent, in fact, than you are in person.”

“I told you, I’m not good with-”

“Talking about feelings, yes. But you understand, at least as an artist, how important communication is?”

“Of course,” Yoongi scoffs. “Words are the backbone to everything I am.”

“Communication isn’t just words, Mr. Min. A message can be relayed without a single word being said.”

“Look.” He leans forward again, dipping his head down and wrapping his hands around the back of his neck, already exhausted by the conversation. “I know there’s a lot of shit wrong with me. That I don’t exactly deal with things the way I should. That I go from happy and hyper one minute and quiet and reclusive the next. It’s just how I am, how I’ve always been. I’ve been trying, listening to all your advice, but I can’t change that.”

“Nor does anyone want you to.” He finally looks up, finds a look of mild surprise on the doctor’s face. “Mr. Min, I’m not going to suggest that you see a psychiatrist and go on a cocktail of medications just to pursue a state of ‘normal’ that doesn’t exist. Everyone has their quirks, their individual personalities. You’re here because you were unhappy, and unhappiness is just as much an impulse as anger. Some people have a tendency towards it, like a default. Does this sound like this applies to you?”

His brow furrows, mulling it over in his head. He had to admit it was as accurate as he had ever heard anyone else describe it to him. And it was true—he did tend towards dissatisfaction and unhappiness as a default. No matter how many goals of his he achieves, part of him is still always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to wake up and the dream to disappear into the cold light of morning, to find himself back on the streets with nothing to his name. No matter how happy he finds himself, he knows it won’t last—that it could all be ripped away from him the next second before he could even scream for the universe not to.

“Impulse control, Mr. Min.” Dr. Kim’s voice says, pulling him from his thoughts. “In your case, it might call for a paradigm shift. To make a conscious effort towards happiness or contentment instead of away from it.”

Paradigm shift, there were those words again. Wasn’t Lee just talking about that last week?

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Mr. Min.”

Yoongi startles, finally managing to pull his gaze back onto his doctor who’s looking at him with his eyebrows drawn together in concern. He wants to laugh, for some unknowable reason. His heart feels like a jigsaw puzzle, all the pieces bouncing around in a box in his chest. He wants to dump them all on the coffee table in front of him, to find the corners and put the damn thing back together again.

“I need to talk myself into happiness instead of away from it, is what you’re saying,” he hazards, and the doctor’s face finally breaks into a smile.

“You are a writer, after all, Mr. Min. I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

He laughs, and the sincerity in it would have been startling if he wasn’t feeling so relieved. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine the edges of the puzzle lining up, the pieces falling into their proper places.

“Good talk, doc. Thanks.”

“No, Mr. Min. Thank you.”

[“So just relax and enjoy the ride.”]

Day 30

“Last day, huh?”

If Lee’s smile is a little watered down tonight, he can understand. He doesn’t know how many meetings the rest of them have left, but he’s free now. No more uncomfortable sharing sessions, no more unsolicited advice that he’s heard a million times before, no more inconveniencing his entire team to make time for therapy.

Sure, he’d started therapy without believing he needed to, but he was also smart enough to admit it had helped. It’s why he still has Dr. Kim’s calling card in his wallet. Just in case.

Then it hits him: no more therapy means no more Lee. No more routine. No more twenty minute breaks behind the building. No more cigarette smoke. No more huddling together against the crisp winter wind. No more faux philosophical conversations about life and love that neither of them took too seriously anyway.

He wonders if she’s going to miss him as much as he already misses her. If that’s why she’s smiling so sadly, brown eyes watching him like she’s memorizing the way he stands, the way he breathes. If his own smile looks just as sad as he does the same to her.

“Last day,” he agrees, pushing the front doors open and letting them out into the late evening.

Now that he’s present, he can’t help but notice the way the glow of the streetlamps has turned the world a warm amber, the way the lights from passing cars glint and reflect off the glass windows of the building, the sheen of moisture on the concrete sidewalk from the short fall of rain while they had been indoors.

The way Lee looks in the middle of it all, chewing her lipstick off as her eyes scan the road uncertainly, looking for the car that will take him away from her for good.

He doesn’t know when he changed his mind about her, but he has. She’s still weird and possibly insane, just as unstable and unpredictable as he is. She looks exactly the same as when he’d met her all those weeks ago. There was still nothing special about her, nothing that screamed or called for attention. Just another girl with a strange way of looking at the world and an even stranger way of talking about it, but while he hadn’t even considered her pretty then, he realizes that she’s the most wonderful thing he’s seen all day. The most wonderful part about every day that’s come before this.

The thought crystalizes in his chest, fragile and firm and sharp around the edges, but it was his. She was his. And she was one routine he suddenly found himself unwilling to break.

“Do you want-”

“Give me your-”

They stare at each other, blinking in surprise as they catch themselves blurting things out at the same time. He grins, and it’s the one that shows all his teeth. The one that he only uses when he’s truly entertained by something. The one that only slips out when he’s truly happy.

“You go first,” he tells her.

She smirks, fingers already tucking a cigarette between lips that are patchy from where she’s bitten off her make-up. “Do you want to exchange numbers?”

“I was about to ask you to give me yours,” he admits, handing his phone over.

She lets out a stream of smoke into the cold night air, smiling as she takes it and saves her number. “See you around, Min Yoongi.”

“See you, Sam Lee.”

He’s halfway home when he realizes she’s saved herself as ‘Your Biggest Fan’. Halfway home, but already feeling like he’s there.

[princessbun-head]

His True Intentions

Ok so you need to listen to this while reading it, maybe it fits in, maybe it doesn’t. But I think it’s a cool song. PS If any of you make Teen Wolf music videos, you should totes make one with this song, I have yet to see one with this song and it would make me very happy.

Plus I’m a little nervous about this because at points, the characters may seem out of character and idk I’m super nervous because this took me a long time to do (maybe two weeks tops) and id be really sad if you guys didn’t like it (I’d bury myself in a hole and gently pass away lol jk). This was an idea that has been in my head a little over three months now and I’m glad I finally put it into a story so it could stop bothering me lol

Summary: New guy, Theo Raeken, shows up to Beacon Hills and takes an interest in (Y/N) (Y/L/N), which the pack is not fond of. Against their wishes, (Y/N) brushes them off and returns the interest. When she learns of his true intentions, she wants nothing more to do with him… That is until Theo kidnaps Lydia, forcing (Y/N) to deal with him face to face.

Warnings: Idk, death? Some cuss words, possible out of characterness?

Word count: 9,072 (19 pages, guys!)

                “I’m okay.” Allison choked out, blood splattering around her lips. She obviously was not okay and you knew it. It happened in slow motion, while fighting; an oni had run a sword through Allison. You had caught her before she fell to the ground.

                “No, no you’re not.” You cried, pressing your hand down harder on her open wound, but the blood kept coming out. “Allison, please! I’ll get you help, just hold on.” You pleaded, but she shook her head no.

                You shook your head, tears falling down your cheeks. You looked to Scott who was sitting on the opposite side of Allison, “Help her, please!”

                “(Y/N), you know I can’t, I tried…” He said, voice raspy with emotion, hands bloody from his attempt to heal her.

                “Well try harder!” You yelled, in hysterics now. You began sobbing when Allison weakly reached her hand up and put it on your forearm, trying to comfort you. She pulled your hands off her wound, knowing that her time was up.

                “It’ll be okay, (Y/N).” She quietly said, her breathing becoming short. “It’s okay.” She grabbed Scott’s hand and said, “I’m by my first love and my cousin, it’s okay.” She smiled weakly and said before she took her last breath, “It’s okay…”

                Her body lay there while you cried over it, Scott moving to the other side, bringing you into an embrace while tears fell down his cheeks. The pack around you had tears coming down from their eyes, in loss of their friend and pack mate.

                Somewhere in a dark corridor, you heard Lydia scream Allison’s name while you cried for her.

                You shot up into a sitting position, tears coming down your cheeks as you hastily wiped them away. This was the second time this week you woke up crying from a dream that involved Allison.

It has been two years since you lost your cousin and it took a toll on you in the beginning. You were depressed because you grew up with Allison, both of you were the same age, so you did everything together.

Everything meant being involved in the hunter business. Both of you started training at the same age. Allison was good with archery while you were excellent with the sword.

You came out of it after a few months, the pack encouraged you to take your time recovering because they knew how close both of you were. You were motivated to train harder so no more of your friends die, not under your watch at least; you made it your job to protect them.

Right now, you looked at the clock, which read 3:15AM. You groaned, rolled your eyes and fell back onto your pillow. You figured if you went back to sleep now, you would not want to wake up in time for school. Nevertheless, if you stayed up, you would be too tired for school.

You chose to go back to sleep, hoping there would be no more nightmares. Thankfully, there was not.

Stiles picked you up for school around 7:30; you grabbed your bag from the chair in the kitchen while bidding a goodbye to your uncle who was cleaning the hunting equipment.

“Have a good day,” He said, concentrating on the weapon in front of him.

You got into Stiles’ jeep and noticed he was staring at you. “What?” You asked, feeling a little self-conscious.

“You look tired.” He finally said, putting his jeep in reverse and then driving off.

“Always am.” You sassed playfully.

Stiles chuckled, “Me too, (Y/N), me too.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, except for Stiles asking if you finished your math homework so, he could copy it, but you had not finished it either, prompting both of you to ask Kira when you get to school.

As soon as you pulled up at school, you started searching for Kira. You found her standing with Scott at the front entrance, his arm around her shoulder while they talked to Lydia. You got out and quickly made your way to the pack, Stiles in tow behind you.

“Hey guys,” Scott said, acknowledging both of you as you made your way up the steps.

“Good morning.” You said, then turned your attention to Kira, “Hey, did you get the math homework finished?”

She rolled her eyes and gave you a look of ‘really?’ Kira slung her bag off her shoulders and dug out her math book, handing you the piece of paper inside. “You told me you were going to do it, (Y/N). It’s not that I don’t like helping you, but what if I wanted to copy from you?” She said, joking about the last part.

“Oh please,” You snorted, “All my answers would be wrong and you know it.” You and Stiles hastily wrote down the answers and you handed Kira her homework back, “Besides, I would’ve done it, but I was training last night.”

“I’m sure you could’ve done it afterwards,” Kira offered.

You stayed quiet because you were up all night training, the pack told you to take it easy because they knew you were a good fighter and you did not need to train more.

“You were up all night, weren’t you?” Lydia answered for you.

You nodded sheepishly, “Yeah.”

They moved on to a different conversation when an SUV pulled up to the sidewalk, and a boy stepped out, slinging a backpack over his shoulder. His eyes landed on the pack and he waved as if they were friends.

“Who is that?” Malia asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Seems suspicious.” Stiles said, his eyes narrowing.

“Kind of looks familiar, but I’m not sure.” Scott offered.

                You were sure that you and the new person locked eyes for a second, but soon averted your eyes to the pack, a blush on your face. He was cute, but he could also be an enemy. You could not trust anyone now days. However, he was cute.

                “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you blushing?” Lydia asked, looking at your cheeks with wonder.

                You shook your head and tried to make the blush go away, “Nothing!” She did not press anymore, but she still wondered.

                The bell rang and all of you began your walk into the school, bidding good byes until study hall, which was after lunch in the library.

                You headed to your locker and look out your books for your morning classes. AP Chemistry, Pre-Calculus, Government and English. While putting your books in order, you could hear someone struggling with their locker a few doors down from you. You peeked over from your door and noticed it was that boy that waved at you and the pack this morning.

                “Hit it up top first, and then yank it.” You offered nonchalantly.

                He tried it, his hand clenching into a fist and hit the top of the locker and then he yanked it, the door opening with ease. He smiled a charming smile and turned to you, “Thanks, Princess.” He said with a wink.

                You rolled your eyes, obviously not amused by the pet name. “Sure thing.” You said before shutting your locker door and headed past him to go to your first class.

                “Hey wait,” He said when you made it five feet past him. You stopped, a little hesitantly and turned to him. “My name is Theo.” He offered the same charisma as before.

                “(Y/N).” You replied with a raised eyebrow, you wondered what his intentions were and you did not know if you wanted to know.

                “Such a pretty name for a pretty girl.” Oh, that is what the intentions were.

                You rolled your eyes at the cliché line and began to turn, “I need to get to class.” You stated while giving him your best attitude-sass you could give.

                Theo pushed his locker door shut and began following you, “Maybe I can walk you to class?” He suggested.

                “I think I can find my way.” You smirked and strode past him, heading to your first class; AP Chemistry.

                THEO POV

                As she strode away with confidence, I began to wonder about (Y/N). She was different from any other girl, and it was obvious. She carried herself in a way that displayed self-assurance. It intrigued me and I wanted nothing more than to get to know her. Maybe she could even help me in my plan to become Alpha, but she did not have to know that yet.

                I shook my head and began heading to my first class, which was AP Chemistry. I finally found the classroom and walked in, my eyes falling to the little beauty by the window, I knew she wouldn’t like it if I sat by her, so I took a seat behind her.

                “So, (Y/N), it looks like we have AP Chemistry together.” I said, leaning forward to speak to her.

                She turned around and looked at me, “Are you following me?” She asked a little confused. I quickly handed her my schedule to let her look for herself. Her (E/C) eyes scanned the page when a look of ‘you got to be kidding me’ appeared.

                “What?” I asked, taking back my schedule.

                “Nothing,” She mumbled, turning to face the front of the room.

                I looked at my schedule and read it myself. What was wrong with it so she looked so annoyed? It did not bother me so I sat back in my seat while a teacher gave me my book for the class.

                The rest of class when by like a blur. You did your work and made sure not to turn back, because you had a gut feeling that if you turned to look back, Theo would try to speak to you, and you did not want that.

                The bell rang and you gathered up your stuff. All the classes were a big blur, each one Theo had and you weren’t too thrilled about it. He would watch you. You freaked out a bit because why the hell is he watching you? What was his problem?

                Theo, on the other hand, had no problem watching you. He enjoyed watching you for some reason. You were interesting. He saw your little quirks during class. How you would tap the end of your pencil on your chin because you were trying to figure out a question, or how you would get your hand ready to raise when you knew the answer. You were fascinating to him.

                You quickly grabbed your stuff and headed out of the classroom before Theo could stop you. You had hoped your sass and attitude would offset him but it only made him more interested in you and that is not what you wanted, at least you thought it wasn’t.

                “Wait, (Y/N)!” You heard, behind you. It was Theo and you walked on and pretended you couldn’t hear him. “(Y/N), I know you can hear me.” He said a bit closer now.

                You finally stopped and turned to him. He wasn’t going to leave you alone, was he? “What?” You asked, acting as non-interested as possible.

                “Listen, princess.” He started and you rolled your eyes at the pet name.

                “I’m sure you call all girls princess, but go on.” You said with your arms folded in front of you.

                Theo smirked and leaned towards you, “You jealous I call other girls princess?” He asked a smile on his face.

                You rolled your eyes again and thought to yourself that he was irritating. “Yeah right.” And began to walk away before he called after you again. “Really, what?” You asked, actually irritated his time.

                “Why don’t you like that I call you princess? It really fits you.”

                “Because I feel like the name is insulting.” You crossed your arms in defiance, “I feel like you don’t respect me when you call me princess. I only liked to be called one name, and that’s my real name.”

                The fact that you demanded respect caught Theo off guard in a good way. He liked that you knew what you wanted and it made him like you more. “Go on a date with me.” He finally said a playful smirk at his lips.

                “Excuse me?” You asked, caught off guard.

                “You heard me. Go on a date with me.”

                You narrowed your eyes at him, “Why?” You asked suspiciously.

                Theo laughed, almost as if the laugh was saying ‘are you serious?’, “Because I want to get to know you better.”

                It was your turn to laugh, so you did. You put a hand on Theo’s upper arm and leaned in so only he could hear you, “You don’t want to get to know me.” You patted his arm and let go, heading to the lunchroom and turning back. “I’m nothing special, princess.”

                He caught up with you before you could reach the lunchroom, “Oh, I think you are something special, (Y/N). No excuses, I’m picking you up at seven tonight. Be ready.” He said with a charming wink and left you at the entrance of the lunchroom to find your friends.

                After figuring out what just happened, you shook it off and headed to the table your friends were sitting at. You sat down and must have had a weird look on your face because you became aware that Liam was watching you. “What?” you asked.

                “What’s up with you?” Liam asked his mouth full of bread.

                “Nothing,” You said, a little bit too much on the defense. “Why would you ask?”

                Lydia slid her tray up and rested her arms on the table, “You’re blushing again.” She smiled and started questioning you, “What did you do? Does it have anything to do with a boy?”

                You were trying to hide your blush, unaware that you even had one. “It’s just really hot-“

                “Don’t lie, you reek of embarrassment.” Malia said, placing some of her food on Liam’s tray. “What is it?”

                It was obvious that the pack wasn’t going to give up on you so you finally caved. “The new guy asked me out on a date.” You said, feeling your cheeks heat up. They were all staring at you, and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. “What?!” You finally asked.

                Lydia broke out in a smile, “Aw, (Y/N) was asked out on a date, so cute! Who was it?”

                “It’s not.” You mumbled, keeping your head low so they couldn’t see your blush grow. “And his name is Theo, the one from this morning.”

                The table shook and you looked up to find Stiles abruptly standing up, but soon sitting down again, “No!”

                You and Lydia looked at Stiles, wondering why he had a problem with you and Theo dating. It’s not as if you were planning to date him anyway. One date and you could probably get him out of your hair, right?

                “What? Why?” You asked, feeling the blush leaving your face. “What’s wrong with him, Stiles?”

                He didn’t miss a beat, “Because he seems suspicious, (Y/N)!” He raised his voice, causing you to jump a bit because Stiles never really raised his voice around you. It caused some of the people in the cafeteria to stare at the table.

                “Well, I didn’t say I was going to go on a date with him, I just said he asked me out!” You said back to him, trying to keep your cool since Stiles kind of lost his.

                He sat back down, his demeanor a little bit calmer, “Oh,” He said, “Well, he’s still suspicious.”

                Liam finished the food on his plate, “Everyone is suspicious to you.”

                “Yeah, that’s true.” Scott agreed, nodding his head.

                Stiles scoffed, “I do not.”

                “You thought I was a danger when I first showed up,” You stated, looking for your pencil in your bag. You pulled it out and continued, “Because I accidently punched you.”

                Liam giggled, “You punched him?”

                “Yeah, he scared me and it was my first instinct.”

                While Liam made fun of Stiles for being punched by a girl, you finished your homework until the bell rang. When it did, you gathered up your stuff while Lydia approached you, “I can help you get ready for your date.”

                You groaned a displeased look on your face. “Lydia, I said I wasn’t going to go on a date with him. Plus you heard Stiles, he’s suspicious.”

                “But he’s also cute, and interested in you.” She pressed, “I’m not going to let my friend miss out on a chance with a cute guy. Who knows, maybe Stiles is wrong!” She gently gripped your arm and pleaded, “Please, (Y/N).”

                You stared at her, hoping she would give up, but Lydia wasn’t the type to give up. You rolled your eyes and sighed, “Fine.”

                She smiled with excitement and pulled you out of the lunchroom, telling her about the plans she had for you. How she was going to do your hair, your make up and asked where he was taking you. You weren’t sure, but she opted for somewhat casual, somewhat glam.

                The day went by without a thought. You were nervous about your date with Theo. The nerves were building up because on one hand, some people thought he was a bad guy, but you had a feeling he wasn’t. You weren’t sure, but you knew that one date couldn’t hurt, right?

                You were currently sitting on Lydia’s bed while she looked through her closet for something for you to wear since she didn’t like the clothes you had. You were a little offended because you thought you dressed decent.

                She handed you an outfit and told you to put it on. Everything fit you perfectly and it looked good. She picked out a pair of ripped black skinny jeans (so unlike Lydia, you were surprised), a grey tank top and a dark green button up shirt left unbuttoned. She curled your hair so it was wavy and left your make up, as it was (plain cat eye.)

                Both you and her got into an argument about wearing heels. You didn’t want to because you couldn’t walk in them, but she wanted you to because it would tie the outfit together. After showing her that you couldn’t wear heels (you nearly face planted on her soft carpet) she let you wear your white converse.

                You went back to your house and waited for Theo. It was almost time for him to pick you up when the doorbell rang. You ran downstairs before your Uncle Chris could answer it. He met you at the door, a suspicious look on his face, “Where are you going and who are you going with?” He asked with a fatherly voice.

                You bit your bottom lip, your hand on the doorknob. “On a date… with a boy…” You said a little slowly, hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

                He narrowed his eyes at you, “What’s his name?”

                It’s not that your Uncle Chris didn’t want you to go out; he just didn’t like you hanging out with guys because he just assumed they were trouble. Moreover, you weren’t too fond of your uncle meeting guys that you liked, or any guys in general.

                You were pulling your ear out of nervousness, and you knew your uncle could sense it. “Theo.”

                He nodded as if to say ‘oh, okay’, “And when do I get to meet him?” He finally asked his arms crossed over his chest.

                “Right now, if you want.” You offered, turning the doorknob to reveal Theo, who was respectfully waiting.

                “Hey, (Y/N).” He smiled, until your uncle cleared his throat, catching Theo’s attention. “Sir.” He nodded, reaching a hand out to shake. “I’m Theo.” He said.

                Chris stared at Theo’s hand for a second before reaching to shake it. “Chris Argent.” He said his grip a little bit too strong for Theo. Your eyes widened a little bit when you saw your uncles hand tighten around Theo’s, who smiled uncomfortably.

                “That’s a strong handshake you got there, sir.” He said, chuckling nervously, shaking his hand out after they let go.

                Chris nodded his head, not saying anything but looking at Theo, who looked a little bit uncomfortable.

                “Well, we better get going before it gets too dark,” Theo said nervously, unsure if he could put an arm around you or not. He nodded to Chris before leading you out the door, “Sir.”

                You thought it was going well until you heard your uncle clear his throat. Both you and Theo looked back to see Chris pull a handgun out of his holster. He loaded it while saying, “Have her back by 11.”

                Theo swallowed thickly, trying to hide the crack in his voice, “Yes, sir.” He gently placed a hand on your back and led you to his vehicle.

                You looked back at your uncle incredulously, who smiled and waved at you, “Have fun, kids.”

                Theo opened the door for you and you got in, he got in soon after and let out a sigh, “So your uncle…”

                “I’m sorry.” You apologized, “He’s done that to all the guys I brought home. He’s actually pretty harmless.” You said, mentally laughing because you knew otherwise.

                “Okay, cool.” Theo laughed, “So, I was thinking pizza and my place?”

                Now it was your turn to laugh, “You said it was going to be a date!”

                “Yeah, Netflix and pizza!”

                You raised your eyebrows, “We are just watching Netflix and eating pizza. Nothing more. If you had the idea that there was going to be something more, I will kick you where the sun doesn’t shine, got it?”

                Theo nodded, a small laugh leaving his lips, “Got it, princess.”

                You rolled your eyes, “You know how I feel about the nicknames.”

                “This one suits you, trust me!”

                You rolled your eyes and let him go. It was obvious that he was going to call you princess even if you didn’t like it or not.

                He was right about the date. He picked up two pizzas and some cookies and went back to his place. Theo was very respectful of you, hell; he was even nice to you, which was kind of a shocker. He took you back home after the movie had finished, respectively having you back at 10:30 PM.

                On your porch was where you shared a kiss with Theo, it ended quickly when your uncle ripped the door open with the threat of kicking Theo’s ass. You were a little horrified, but later on laughed about it with Theo over the phone.

                Lydia, of course, asked for details of the date and was disappointed even though you told her it wasn’t anything big. Nonetheless, she was excited for you, despite the bad feeling she had about it. She brushed it off for your sake. The pack soon followed the feeling she had.

Despite the pack telling you that dating Theo was a bad idea, you stupidly brushed them off. You both even shared the secret that you were a hunter and he was a werewolf, he assured you that he was on your side. You thought nothing of it and carried on. Your first date turned into a second, then a third. You two were never deemed a couple, just two teenagers flirting a lot. He was so sweet and gentle to you, you idiotically considered yourself lucky.

                The thing that bothered you about the pack being upset with you dating Theo was that Lydia was upset too. You were mad at her because she was the one who pushed you to date him.

                “What the hell, Lydia?” You shouted angrily. A pack meeting was called because they were worried about you dating Theo; they wanted to put a stop to it in case Lydia’s feelings were right.

                She jumped a little bit at your tone, but managed to stand her ground. “I’m just getting a bad feeling about him, (Y/N). Really bad.”

                You scoffed, looking around at the pack who were gathered in Scott’s kitchen. “You were the one who told me to date him, why didn’t you tell me then?” You were angry and hurt, why wait so long to tell you?

                “I’m sorry, (Y/N), I really am. However, the feeling didn’t come up until recently. I felt it when you bought him over to my house. He doesn’t have good intentions, (Y/N), he doesn’t.” She explained you could see the sincerity in her eyes.

                Scott stepped in before you could say anything else, “You’re a good addition to this pack, but we can’t keep you if you won’t heed a warning. I’m sorry, but you’re out.”

                You were too stunned to say anything; all you could do was look at the pack. Liam looked disappointed, Stiles and Kira looked torn, Lydia was apologetic, Malia was annoyed, and Scott was stern.

                “Fine.” You said quietly, grabbing up your stuff and made your way to the door. No one said anything and you were hurt that no one even tried to call for you back.

                To clear your head, you headed over to Theo’s house. You and Theo were laying on his bed, finishing an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. He was comfortably sitting against his headboard while you were lying next to him, your head resting on his chest. Meredith finished her speech and the episode ended. You sat up and stretched, looking at Theo. “I should get home.” You said, a little bit sad for leaving.

                He pulled you back down to lay by him, “Just a few more minutes.”

                You inhaled in cologne and allowed ten more minutes, then you would have to go home, otherwise Uncle Chris would have his head. “I can’t stay too long; otherwise my uncle would kill you.”

                Theo chuckled, “Nah,”

                You laughed, sitting up and grabbed your purse off the floor, “Yeah, he would.”

                Theo sat up with you, his arms snaking around your waist. He pulled you close and whispered into your ear, “I have something to ask you,” He said, tone serious.

                “What is it?” You asked the same volume and tone as him. You turned your body to face him and looked into his eyes, “What’s wrong, Theo?”

                “I need you to help me with something, and I know you could do it.” He said, more serious than ever. He grabbed your hands and looked you straight in the eyes, “I want to become alpha, (Y/N), and I can’t do that without your help.”

                He didn’t even give you a chance to speak before continuing, “In order for me to become alpha, that’s where you come in. You have to help me kill Scott, now I know you might be against killing him, but that’s my job, I just need you to lure him-“

                “STOP!” You said, before he could finish. You were disgusted that he would even ask that of you. You shook your head, “No.” you pulled your hands out of his grip.

                “No?” Theo repeated, unsure if he heard you right. He went to reach for your hands again, but then you pulled away. “(Y/N), you can help me. You’re a hunter!”

                “I am not helping you kill Scott, he’s my friend.” You were furious now, you tried to slow down your breathing and he reached for your hands again, “Don’t touch me!” You yelled, expertly smacking him away.

                Theo grabbed his face where you hit him, a chuckle escaping his lips, “You’re going to regret that.” He said darkly.

                You quickly got off the bed, gathering your stuff, thankful that he didn’t make an intention to follow you. “My friends were right, you were trouble. I should’ve listened to them.” You looked at him, feeling slight nausea just looking at him. 

                You got halfway out the door when Theo said, “And you know what the funny thing is, (Y/N)? I actually liked you. I mean, I didn’t at first, until I got to know you. I was like, damn this girl is something else, you know that?”

                You bit your tongue, choosing not to reply to him, and walked out of his house.

                You don’t know how, but you found yourself at Scott’s door. You knew you couldn’t go home, not yet. You had to tell Scott what Theo had said. The night was quiet and all you were trying to do was remember what Theo had told you so you could give the correct information.

                All while remembering, your mind went back to when he told you that he used you just to get to Scott. You knew it looked weak, but the tears started falling and the door opened to reveal a concerned looking Scott.

                “(Y/N),” He said, a little caught off guard that you would show up, “(Y/N), what are you doing here?” He gently pulled you into the house and embraced you.

                The tears wouldn’t stop and you weren’t even sure if Scott could hear you past the tears, “You were right, I’m so sorry!” You sobbed into his chest. “He was just using me to get to you, I’m so sorry, Scott.”

                He pulled out of the embrace to look at you with concern, “Who?”

                “Theo.” You hiccupped. “He only dated me so he could become alpha. He wanted me to help him and I told him no!”

                Scott pulled you back into a hug, he felt your sadness and he accepted your apology. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you, because he knew that’s what Allison would’ve done. “It’s okay, (Y/N), I forgive you.”

                You nodded silently, “Thank you.” You whispered.

                A pack meeting was called into effect a few minutes after you calmed down. A lot of them looked displeased that you were there because they were still angry with you, that you were (or had) dated the suspicious guy.

                “What’s she doing here?” Liam asked, obviously annoyed with you.

                “Liam,” Scott warned to the young wolf. He got quiet, but still had the ‘you’re not welcome here’ face.

                Everyone in the pack was there, except Lydia. Everyone had texted her, but no response, and it was beginning to worry all of you.

                “Look guys, I understand that you’re mad at me.” You began, until Malia cut you off.

                “Yeah, you dated a guy that we clearly told you to stay away from.” She spat. “Traitor.”

                You were angry, with yourself, and with them because they weren’t open to hear you out. You looked to Scott who calmly told everyone to listen to you. You continued, “I know what I did was wrong, but if I was a traitor, I wouldn’t be telling you guys this.”

                They all waited, “Theo only dated me to get to Scott. He wanted to kill him in order to become alpha, now if I was a traitor, I’d be with Theo, not against him.”

                The information seemed to have sunk into the rest of the pack, they were all quiet and no one spoke for a long time. Kira was the first to speak.

                “I forgive you, even though I wasn’t really mad at you.” She smiled, shrugging her shoulders.

                Stiles sighed deeply, “I forgive you, but I don’t.” He nodded, “But mainly I do… But I don’t.” He narrowed his eyes and pointed at you, as if to say ‘you get what I’m saying?’

                You looked at everyone around you, “I don’t blame you for not wanting to forgive me now, or ever because what I did was dumb. I didn’t heed a warning, but I stayed long enough to know what his intentions were. If I didn’t find out, we would all be in the dark about this.”

                Everyone was quiet as if to contemplate his or her thoughts. You knew that only Malia and Liam were going to be the hardest ones to convince. You understood where their anger was coming from because you have felt that kind of betrayal before.

                “Like I said, you don’t have to forgive me now,” You repeated quietly.

                The room was silent before someone spoke up, “So, where’s Lydia?” Kira asked, “I texted her but I don’t know where she could be?”

                Malia nodded, “Yeah, I called her but it went straight to voicemail. I could smell everyone’s nervousness before the meeting started.” She went through her phone, looking at the messages she sent Lydia.

                Stiles was the next one to speak up, “She doesn’t turn her phone off. Something is off.”

                You noticed his hands becoming jittery, your first instinct was to comfort him and you did. You made your way over to Stiles and put your hands on top of his, it wasn’t much, but it helped calm him down. He nodded thanks to you. “We’ll find out where she is, okay?”

                Just as you said that, your phone lit up with a number you did not recognize. You furrowed your brow and answered it, “Hello?”

                “I told you that you would regret it.”

                You were beyond confused; your heart rate picked up because you knew this wouldn’t be good. “Who is this?” You eventually said, the pack now watching you.

                “Princess, how could you forget my voice so fast?”

                Your heart dropped and your hands shook. “What do you want?” You said, rage in your voice. You tried your best to keep your voice even.

                He clicked his tongue at you, as if it was like ‘shame on you’. “Wow, and I thought we could fix this, but it looks like you’re not interested so we have to settle this the hard way.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” Lydia cried into the phone

                You stopped breathing as soon as you heard her voice; the terror in her voice enraged you. “Lydia? Lydia! Theo, what the hell?” You shouted into the phone. “Why the fuck would you do this? You better not hurt her, I swear!”

                Theo didn’t give you much of an answer, but instead told you to meet him at the old warehouse near the school and hung up. You heard the three small beeps after he hung up and you couldn’t do anything but stare at your phone in disgust.

                “Theo has her.” You said at last, you looked at the outraged teens in front of you and could feel for them. Theo hit a low; if you and he were going to settle a fight, why bring someone else into it?

                It was only 7:15 but you knew it was going to be a long night. Lydia was missing and every one was on edge.

                “We need a solid plan, guys.” Stiles started, his palms coming down on the table rattling all the things on it. His anxiety was noticeable, “We can’t just leave her.”

                “We know,” Scott said quietly, his thoughts jumbled up inside his mind.

                “We wouldn’t be in this position if someone didn’t go and date the guy we told her not to date,” Malia spat, her salt obviously directed towards you.

                You raised your eyebrow angrily, “Oh, so you think it’s my fault now?” You exasperatedly asked your hands now in fists. You took a taunting step towards Malia who returned the same gesture.

                The pack knew neither of you were not scared to fight, let alone each other.

                “I’m not thinking, I know it is.” She said her tone furious.

You laughed and started making your way to Malia, but before you two could get any further, Stiles pulled Malia back, Scott pulled you back, and Kira stepped between the space of you two so you didn’t kill each other.

                “Okay, that’s enough!” Scott said, laying authority down. “We are not going to get Lydia back if you two are fighting! I don’t care if you guys make up or not, right now we just need to focus on Lydia, okay?”

                You and Malia glared at each other. Stubbornly, you both nodded, vowing to stay away from each other until you could come to your truce. Which might take a while.

                After everyone settled down, ideas were thrown on the table. Theo mentioned that he was going to kill Scott, and you had the slightest suspicion that he would bring his pack to help with the job because they probably assumed Scott would bring his.

                That was plan A, to assign a pack member to a certain person. It wasn’t made clear who gets who, but Liam was tossing the idea of who gets who. Scott would get Theo, but you spoke up.

                “No,” You mumbled loud enough for the pack to hear you, your eyes locked with Scott’s eyes, “I’ll take Theo. He’s mine.” The vengeance in your voice evident. You grabbed your sword off Scott’s moms table and headed towards the door. “That son of a bitch is mine.” You growled.

                You and the pack arrived to an abandoned warehouse. Theo and his pack, who included Josh, Tracey, and Corey, stood waiting for you. Lydia stood in the middle, being held by Theo, his claws to her neck. She looked completely terrified, but unharmed.

                You felt guilty because Malia was kind of right. If you didn’t date Theo as they told you, you all wouldn’t be in this situation. However, you were sure you all would have been anyways because you were sure he would’ve tried the plan out without you. You were just ahead of the game.

                “Let her go.” Stiles yelled the first one out of all of you to say anything.

                Theo chuckled while Lydia tensed up. “Oh, Stiles. Always trying to be the hero, huh? I’m sorry, but this fight is between (Y/N) and I.”

                “Then why did you bring Lydia into this?” You growled, it took all you had for you not to rip into him right there, but you knew that if you did then he would hurt Lydia, and that’s not what you wanted.

                He snorted, “How else was I going to lure you to me? Obviously my first plan didn’t work out, because you were against helping me kill Scott.” He took his claws away from Lydia’s neck and pushed her behind him. “You know, (Y/N), you’re a smart girl. But you weren’t smart enough to see through my plan.”

                “Shut up!” You hollered, your grip tightening on your sword that was casually sitting in its holster on your hip.

                “Square up, Theo.” Stiles mumbled in response to you, somewhat attempting to put humor in the situation, somewhat serious.

                Theo’s demeanor changed from joking to serious, he locked eyes with you, taking steps towards you. “Bring it, Princess.”

                And you did. You ran to him, all the anger you had built up was finally going to be put to use. Josh and Corey ran at you while you ran to Theo, but you dodged them easily. When you were ten feet from Theo, you leaped up and kicked him square in the chest, knocking the air out of him and knocking him down in the process.

                That was when all hell broke loose, everyone began to attack. Corey and Josh took on Scott. Kira and Malia took on Tracy while Stiles went to get Lydia. Claws were out, teeth were bared, and weapons were uncovered.

                Theo sat up, resting on his elbows while he caught his breath. You hand your sword pointed to his neck and he laughed, “Didn’t know you had it in ya, Princess.”

                “You’re lucky I didn’t mess up that pretty face of yours,” You countered back, but you weren’t as playful as he was.

                Tracy went flying past the both of you while Malia and Kira chased after her. She hit the building hard, but you had no worry because she was supernatural and could probably survive it.

                Theo’s hand swiftly wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you down to the ground, your sword clattered on the pavement. You landed on your side about ten feet from Theo. You both locked eyes with each other before scrambling to get up to try to grab it.

                Theo got to your sword first, deciding not to use it against you, but to ruin it. He bent the metal so it of no use to you anymore. He thought that was your only weapon, but he thought wrong. “No more sword for you.” He taunted a smile at his lips.

Since your sword was gone, you pulled your dagger out of the holster in your boot. You went to go and stab Theo with it, but he caught your right wrist before the blade could even touch him. His hand turned into a fist and he was getting ready to punch you.

                Before his fist could punch you, you grabbed his wrist with your left hand, spun him around so his arm was painfully pinned behind his back. You kicked him in the back on the knee and he went down, groaning in pain.

                He rolled onto his back, but you didn’t stop there. You kneeled on top of him, making sure your knee was digging into his chest while your dagger was pressed against his neck. Theo’s hands were held up as if he was surrendering, but you knew that he wouldn’t go down that easy. “You thought wrong.” You remarked, pressing your knee down harder.

                Both of you were breathing heavy, but he managed to chuckle, then it turned into a laugh, “What’s so funny?” You asked, annoyed that he would even be chuckling.

                “You’re just so adorable, Princess. I don’t know why I didn’t keep you around.” He sarcastically announced.

                His arrogance was annoying you, so you pressed all your weight down onto Theo, his laugh turning into a groan of pain. “Because I wasn’t going to let you kill Scott, remember, sweetheart?”

                Theo rolled his eyes and effortlessly tossed you off him. You landed with a thud on the hard pavement, the wind knocked out of your lungs. He got up and brushed his hands off while you held onto the wall for support, gripping your dagger tightly. Theo strolled towards you until your back hit the wall, slightly pushing you into it.

 “I could kill you right here, right now, princess.” Theo sweetly sneered, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. He pushed you into the wall some more, you squirmed as a whimper escaping your lips from the pain.

It made you laugh in a way because he was so gentle with you before he found out you were a hunter and avoided you. Now everything was changed, he was cold and distant from you, but you weren’t going to let him kill Scott.

“Oh, you don’t want to do that, sweetheart.” You mocked back, pushing off the wall and in the process, pushing Theo off you. He stumbled back and caught himself before falling to the ground.

He laughed almost sarcastically, “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He came at you again, but you didn’t have time to react. He grabbed you from around your waist so you were facing him, it almost looked intimate, but you knew it was far from that. His hand was painfully gripping your wrist, causing you to disarm your dagger. He kicked it away from the both of you so you didn’t have a chance to grab it in case you had more tricks up your sleeve.

“Isn’t this sweet?” He asked a sickly sweet tone in his voice. “This is how we were standing when we kissed, don’t you remember, (Y/N)?” He dug his claws into your thigh, causing you to let out a sharp cry of pain.

Your mind flashed back to when you two first kissed and it left a bad taste in your mouth. You two had just come back from getting pizza and eating it at his house. He had defied your expectations about him. Theo was so gentle and sweet with you. It was a surprise because he was an arrogant asshole to everyone, but you.

“Let me walk you to your door,” Theo said, putting his truck in park.

You took a deep breath and looked at him; you stared into his lovely hazel eyes. You were thinking of a sassy comeback, but let your guard down. You could let him get away with this one sweet thing, right? “Okay.” You finally said, unbuckling your seatbelt and waited for him to open your door.

You two made it up your driveway, his arm protectively slung around your waist. You stopped at your porch, giving him a chance to talk, “So, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asked, a playful smirk on his lips and his hands gently grasping your waist while your arms hung on his shoulders.

You smirked back at him, “Hmm, I guess not.”

“Would you go out with me again?” He asked, a little more hope in his voice.

You smiled and blushed, you have never met a guy who was so interested in you, “I suppose,” You shyly said.

Theo chuckled, his voice becoming softer and he popped the question of, “Can I kiss you?”

“No.” You said; a defied look on your face. You smirked when Theo looked taken back, then you giggled, “I’m surprised you even asked. Yes, you can.” You granted permission.

Theo gently caressed your face and leaned down so your lips met his. Your stomach was doing flips out of excitement and you felt like you couldn’t be happier. Your doubts about him were wrong.

You forcefully pushed the memory to the back of your mind and tried to keep the tears from coming up. You felt your legs trying to give out from the pain and you instinctively grabbed his shoulder to keep yourself from falling even though he had his arm around your waist, preventing you from falling anyways.

Theo chuckled darkly and pushed you off him, your blood dripping from his claws. You landed on your side, your hand shakily pressed down on your leg, attempting to stop the blood flow but it was gushing out between your fingers. You swallowed thickly and tried to stand up, but felt too dizzy to do so.

You looked around; everyone was too busy with his or her own enemy. There was no one to help you, but you tried to tell yourself it was okay because you could take care of yourself. The only thing you wish you had was Scott’s healing, that would help so much.

“(Y/N)!” You heard someone shout, you turned your head to see Stiles coming towards you to help you. You mentally rejoiced because you were weak, and you needed help to stand up.  

Stiles gripped an arm around your waist and helped you up; you used him to steady yourself until Theo started coming towards the two of you, a displeased look in his eyes. Stiles and you attempted to back up away from Theo, but he strode up to Stiles, who tried to protect you by keeping himself in front of you.

“You’re scared, both of you.” He smugly stated. Both you and Stiles tried your best to look brave, but it was faltering. You were mentally battling the fact that you were scared now, and you shouldn’t be. You were a hunter, heck; you were a part of the Argent family. Argent’s weren’t scared, Argent’s were brave.

You shook your head, “No.” You trembled out.

He sauntered towards the both of you again, your heartbeat picking up and your grip on Stiles tightened. Stiles began to walk backwards, avoiding the evil in front of you. He came up and shoved Stiles away from you, your only protection gone and knocked out in front of you.

Theo smiled darkly at you; you tried to get away from him only for him to catch you. His hand came up to your throat, clenching his hand around the delicate skin. You gasped for air as he slammed you against the wall, knocking more air out of you.

“You don’t look so tough now, princess.” He said, almost maniacally at you.

It was true. You were tired, your adrenaline was wearing down which made you feel all the pain in your body. You had no more room to fight, at this point you could only wish for a miracle. The only fight you had left in you was to scratch at his wrist to let you go. It was a small and almost laughable attempt because you knew if you had more energy, you could get out of his grip.

He let go of your throat only to tightly grab a hold of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I told you that you were going to regret it.”

 You jerked you head out of his grasp, “The only thing I regret is wasting my time on you,” You said, your breath catching up to you. Your boot-clad foot attempted to kick him away, but he swiftly stopped you to more claws to your thigh. You squealed in pain as he slowly twisted his nails out.

Claws were pulled out and you were breathing heavy, “No more.” You whispered, your body shaking from pain.

His eyebrows quirked up, “What? What was that? I didn’t hear you?” Theo mocked, but he knew what you said, he just liked hearing you say it. He liked hearing that you are weak when you have had this persona of being strong, tough, and never afraid. "Did I hear you say that you're giving up?"

Your body could only take so much abuse before it would give out. Every bone in your body hurt, your muscles ached and you felt like giving up. “I said no more.” You were sure that if it wasn’t for Theo holding you up, you would just be a crumpled heap on the ground.

By then, your cries of pain had caught the other pack member’s attention, but none could come to your aide. You couldn’t blame them; they were just trying to stay alive like you. You noticed Scott trying to finish Josh so he could help you.

Without warning, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. A small gasp escaped your lips while blood spilled out of your mouth. Everything felt like slow motion. You looked down to see Theo’s hand in your stomach and you looked back up at him with regret in your eyes.

You could hear Scott yelling your name while Theo twisted his claws, slowly removing them from your abdomen while you coughed up more blood. As he removed his hand, he stepped back and casually shook your blood off his hand.

Your hands found your wound and you attempted to stop the bleeding but you knew all too well that it wasn’t going to work. Slowly, you slid down the wall. Before you reached the ground, you felt strong arms grab you and stop you from hitting the dusty pavement.

You heard Liam and Malia screaming at Theo, but you didn’t see anything. However, you did hear Malia viciously throwing Theo around; Liam had to stop her before she killed him.

You looked to see Stiles, who now had a bruise on his face, but was overall okay. You were breathing heavy and your body shivering. “Did you f-find Lydia? Did you put her somewhere s-safe?” You gasped, more worried about your friend than yourself.

“Yeah, she’s fine. But you need help, (Y/N).” He said, his hands hastily pressing over yours to help stop the bleeding. His pale hands were now stained with your blood that was flowing out too quickly.

Scott skidded to a stop in front of both of you, his mind flashing back to when Allison was dying. He remembered seeing her fall to the ground before he caught her, he remembered her face going pale from the lack of blood, and he remembered the pain of losing her.

In a panic, Scott took Stiles’ and your hands away so he could try to heal you. In the back of his head, he knew that you needed actual medical attention, but he was determined to save you right here.

“I can’t feel your pain, (Y/N).” Scott said his voice in a panic.

You smiled softly at him, “T-that’s because I’m not h-hurting.” You gasped, your hand going up to caress the face of your friend who has done all he could to protect you all these years that Allison was gone.

Tears were running down Scott’s face while he put his hand over yours. “I can save you, just let me try.” he said, meaning that he could bite you, turning you into a werewolf. But that posed the risk of your body rejecting the bite, meaning you would die regardless.

You shook your head, your brows furrowed as you let out a cough. More blood splattered all over you, some onto Scott and Stiles, but they didn’t care. “You can’t… and that’s okay.” You whispered, your voice raw from the abuse you had gone through.

In the wake of Allison’s death, you couldn’t understand how she was telling you that it was okay when it clearly wasn’t. You were losing your cousin and you knew it wasn’t okay… Until now.

Your body was warm, as if the sun had come out and showered your whole body with cozy warm rays. It occurred to you that you weren’t in pain, “It’s okay.” You said, ultimately understanding why Allison had said that to you… Because it really was okay.

To the pack, you were shivering and your hands were shaking as you went to grab Scott’s to tell him one more thing, because you knew it was going to be the last thing he heard, “T-thank you for taking c-care of Allison and I.” You gasped unevenly, trying to smile as best as you could.

The pack watched as you took your final breath, that everything was still. Stiles sat across from your body, his hands resting on his lap as they shook with rage. He angrily got up in search for Theo, but Malia stopped him, telling him that she and Liam took care of Theo.

Kira came up behind Scott and hugged him while he hugged your lifeless body, his own body shaking with sadness. She murmured how it was going to be okay to him, but he couldn’t hear it. Your death mirrored Allison’s too much, it wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay.

Lydia came running up, to the group, nearly tripping but Stiles caught her before she could fall. The strawberry blonde collapsed in tears in Stiles’ arms when she saw your bruised and lifeless body. As if on cue, Lydia screamed your name while the pack cried for you.

JESUS CHRIS I love ALL OF YOU THANK YOU FOR PUTTING UP WITH MY DUMB IDEAS. YA'LL NUMBER 1.

[cruelafterglow]

dramione camp halfblood au

pairing: DracoHermionesetting: camp half-blood auwc: 4435notes: written for an anon on tumblr. Hope you will like it. also on ff.net

Draco Malfoyis the son of a stranger with great power. He is the son of justice, of balanceand of revenge.

Since he’sa baby, he’s thirsty with belonging somewhere, with earning a place, his place.

A placesomewhere else than in his manor on Cobble Hill with his mom, blond and richand craving for satin dresses and hearing her own name again and again.

HermioneGranger is the daughter of Athena (she knows it. She’s intelligent and restlessand wise and determinate and –

Most of thetime, she is just lonely but she doesn’t tell.)

The rest ishistory, you will tell but if we must be honest, we’ll tell that all there’sleft is ruins and embers.

i. I’m still alone in my mind

HermioneGranger is so proud of her dad. He’s an eminent dentist and he is so wise thatshe can barely compete with him but she tries because it’s what she does, it’swho she is. She hits a brick wall on a good challenge, on a hard enigma. No onelooks at the bruises, no one looks at the scratches that it left.

Buteveryone keeps their gazes on her big tooth and her fuzzy hair, on her bigbrain.

She’s a brainy, they tell. They don’t ever bother to whisper.Oh yes, she thinks.

She hugsher dad, every night before climbing to bed, she thanks him for the pile of bedon her nightstand even if she has some difficulties to focus. Doctors have saidit’s ADHD, nothing she cannot deal with, right? Nothing she cannot overcome?

Oh yes, but I am so much more.

She’s thedaughter of a giant (her father is tall. Like very tall.) and of a goddess (shehas looked for her in books at the public library.). Her father has told herwhen she was something like six years old. She was not scared, she was not sad,not even when it was Mother’s Day and that she was left with a card and no oneto whom give it.

She was resilientand the blood in her veins was red and gold. Older, she learnt to cursecautiously: she was a fucking miracle

Now she’sjust lost with visions at night and monsters tracking her smell and her legacyat day.

“What can Ido?” asks her dad, after work hours. He keeps his glasses on his nose and hetakes off his surgical gloves. They are green and the surgery’s lights make himlooks so pale, so thin.

She’s bravefor the both of them. If she could, she would erase his memory makes him leavemonsters and the United States and the memories of a goddess met under theshape of a pretty patient with grey eyes and a collection of pencil skirts.

But it’snot one of her talent. She thinks to ask her mom, briefly, but she’s not a girlwho asks, who begs. She is independent and she doesn’t need to rely on others.

She cannoterase his memory but she’s very good at running. So, she runs, a backpack fullwith books and toothpaste, a brush, clothes and a kitchen knife.

She doesn’tknow where but she will figure it out. She doesn’t know when but she will findout that she cannot keep up with 3 monsters attacks a day longer.

ii. where they don’t know my name

For Draco,it’s easier. He is born with a mother and a manor. He is born with warm embraceand material safety. There is a fire burning in his chest and a bitter taste inhis mouth but he ignores it.

One day, aguy comes and rings at the door. His name is Gregory Goyle and he takes moreafter a billy goat than after a boy with such bad manner. He has a strangetwitch in his knee. Disturbing.

Disturbingis not even an adequate word when he announces to Draco that he must take himto the camp Half-Blood because he is some kind of Greek demigod. This boy, inthe end, is no longer a boy but a satyr.

For Draco,it’s easier. He is born with a mother and a manor. His mother has lied to himabout his dad, saying he was a criminal spending his life in jail forcorruption and misappropriation of funds. That there was no love story but a wrong place wrong time hookup story. Hiswhole freaking life.

Acid burnshis stomach. His father is a god (her mother explains him that she needed tokeep it secret for him, for his protection. The monsters smell knowledge andpower. She doesn’t explicit which one but he has a gut and a fire burninginside of him. The god is hurt, he is fire and revenge.), he watches for thebalance on earth but there is no balance when he has spent his whole childhoodhidden behind walls of lies and marble just to keep away the monsters.

(His motheris the worst of them, he thinks. She cries. He leaves. She has packed up forhim, sweets and chocolate. A photography in glossy paper.)

On the way,Greg becomes his first friend, his first ally. He’s all crooked smile and bighugs. He has none of the sharp angles that shape Draco, and it’s okay.

There isdifferent way to survive. For some of them, it’s kindness.

It doesn’tstop the burning in his stomach or the pression in his eyes holding up thetears, it doesn’t decrease the anger, the rage, the appetite for revenge on aghost life, aching and twisting his fists and his back. But until they will beon the top of the hill, it will be enough.

They don’tknow his name yet, but they will learn.

He looks atall these people who don’t know his name or his burden. There is a chief (thereis always one) except this one is called Remus, has a tired face and brownchocolate hair stripped with gray.

He has afirm but kind voice. He talks about schedule and integration, he talks aboutfriends and about heroes but Draco Malfoy is not used to this kind ofqualifying (he’s a coward, he’s a lone wolf, he’s a villain.)

He hasnever been keen of authority except the one of his mother (when she had powerand love.)

So, hekeeps his mouth shut and his mind blank. He follows his new chief to Hermes’scabin where are the lost and the wanderer.

There is alot of people in there. Small. Nervous. A boy with black hair, messy like if hehad been in a thunderstorm, green eyes and a nerdy pair of glasses. It’s nothis kind of ally. He has a weak smile but a weaker bone structure.

There is ablack guy. Same age. The smile of a prince, the charisma of a young god andeyes dark like death. They shake hands.

“My name’sBlaise. Blaise Zabini.”

“Malfoy.Draco Malfoy.”

“What can Ido for you, Malfoy?”

“Introduceme to the good kind.”

DracoMalfoy doesn’t know how to make friends yet but he knows how do businesspartner and deals.

They leavethe overcrowded bungalow (with his old brown chipped of paint and his too manycampers and hammock and laughs and sounds and – it’s more that he can bear.) indirection of the strawberry fields.

Closing thedoor behind him, he notices a girl. Her skin is lighter than Blaise’s but hereyes are just as intense. There is a strong and powerful curiosity in her gaze.He shuts the door before she could read on his face.

“Who isshe?” he asks to his partner with his usual poker face and a whisper swallowedby the wind.

“This girl?Her name is Hermione Granger. She’s here since a month or two, I think. She washere before me. Unclaimed like us. There’s rumors about her. They say that sheran away from home, fought more monsters than most of us to come here. She’snot really a confident one, not really talkative.

“Yeah, I’vefelt it too. A question, Zabini: unclaimed? What is it?”

“It’s whenyour godly parent hasn’t claimed you yet. Once it is done, you are assigned tohis cabin and you are officially his or her son.” He answers quietly.

It remindsDraco of the birds flying dangerously around his old home. The hours spentwatching them from the window of his bedroom.

Ravens.

“Don’t youknow who he is? Your parent?”

Blaisefreezes but it’s delicate. There are just in front of the strawberry field. Thesweet smell of the juicy fruit comes to Draco and he closes his eyes. Hebreathes. He’s alive and safe and powerful and no one will take it from himbecause he is – A burst of laughter interrupts his meditation.

In thefields, two girls are sitting between the young plants. Shiny hairs, polishednails and nice dresses.

They turntheir heads to him.

Deadlyglares.

“I have myidea” affirms slowly Zabini before greeting his friends. “Malfoy, this isDaphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson. Hope you’ll find your place among us.”

It’s nevereasier.

It willnever be.

iii. i never have time

Finally,the gods claim their children one night. It’s all sparks and gasps andsurprises.

Good orbad.

Draco isthe son of a goddess. It makes his world collapse and break and shakes. Hiswhole body is shaking below the sign of the red balance.

He wants toscream, he wants explanation from this mother who was not his. He wants to knowwho is Narcissa Malfoy (certainly not a mom. A mask, a shadow. A liar.)

All thelies pill up on his head, threatening to bury him under their suffocatingweight.

Blaise isthe son of death, Hades like they call him. Draco doesn’t shiver like the restof them do.

HermioneGranger is the daughter of Athena, wise as hell, like a skinny freckled tallboy named Ron Weasley.

The otherboy, the one with the emerald boy and the thunder in the voice, Harry Potterthe legend, is the son of Zeus and it surprises no one.

Draco isgood with learning, memorizing. He knows hierarchy. He knows who has power downhere and who would do crazy things to earn it.

He alignshis behavior with those who could help him. He moves in Nemesis’s cabin, meet astrange boy, Theodore Nott.

“Hello,brother.”

It soundsfake, it sounds swallow.

“We’re notrelated Nott.”

“You’rewrong, kiddo. Except maybe for the blond platinum hair. We can’t at least besure that we have not the same dad.”

DracoMalfoy is secretive so it’s not like he was going to share his family tree withhis stranger came from nowhere, occupying a bed in front of his own, with aspace clearly untidy. The floor is covered up by clothes, gum papers and asword –

A sword.

Dracolearns two things about Theodore Nott: one, his not a big fan of cleaning up,two, he’s dangerous and maybe psycho.

He burieshis head in his pillow but it’s not an efficient barrier to shield him againstNott’s dark laugh.

He sleepslike a rock in spite of his new situation, not knowing who he is, what he is,nor why he is like this but –

DracoMalfoy has listened to Remus when he was describing heroes,

He wantsblood and revenge thus he needs a weapon – He sleeps but it’s never simple todream.

HermioneGranger, on the other side, is as happy as she can be about this new place shecan call home. The blood boiling in her veins, mix of red hemoglobin and goldenichor, she will own it. She has plenty of brother and sisters who likes to playchess (like this redhead with a stomach barely larger than his light. He smellslike sun and he looks like a knight.) or reads books or learns or beingferocious and vivacious and wise and –

Aftermonths of fighting and searching and struggling for a safe place, she is there.She has a clean bed, stimulating conversations, answers. No goals.

The olderones are the most complicated to deal with because they already have done everythingthat she could have thought doing. She has no use, no purpose. She is just alittle girl, head up to heroes.

She is noteven the smarter one anymore. It bugs her but, when night comes, she doesn’tcry. She is focused: she planned her next more, a step ahead in the conquest ofthis new playground.

She hearsabout prophecy and quests. Since this day, there is no second without this goalseeded in her mind. This is why she’s born. She is mean to be a hero. Asalvation.

(Here itis. Heroes are born again under the benevolent smile of the moon and the quietwhispers of gods and titans in their dreams. It’s a whistle of rage and foamingblood but they are just children training with weapons bigger than them, sothey just hear opportunities, future, and treasure. Whatever they are.)

They haveno time for each other. Draco looks at her when she is not aware, her brighteyes when she discovers more and more about Greek gods, about this language whowas like an odd gut for her until she finds the camp. She is a brilliantstrategist; her blade is as sharpened as her mind but she makes him feelssomething very wrong. Something very primal for someone who is called DracoMalfoy and has been raised in lies and marble.

It’s notlove. It’s fear.

She hascrawled in the mud, she has blown up the cage of her own childhood to becomewho she is. There are rumors about her, about how she has reached this heavenafter a journey into hell, blood splashed all over her face, and a broken arm.

She doesnot give up. Never. She has something to prove and Draco – he’s not really acurious kid, just a coward – doesn’t want to have anything to do with it.

He has aweapon now, and he surrounded by powerful and determinate people who willsupport him (to the end of the world.)

He’s justscared that she will cause him trouble. That she will try to stop him, to fighthim, to be competitive.

When helooks at her, her eyes twitching with concentration, the sides of her nosequivering when she succeeds to master a new type of weapons (she’s good withspears. It’s like a wand, like an extension of her own arm come to life.), he’safraid that she will win.

They growup and grow up like trees do. They dig their nutriments and values andresources out this godly soil. They are two vigorous trees but theirs branchesnever touch.

They haveno time, they have to reach the sky.

iv. i know you’re dying to meet me

Hermioneasks for a quest to Remus on her seventeenth birthday.

He says yesbut his face is ravaged by old scars, making creases in his textured skin. Heis so old but he is also kind. She has seen the monsters out there, he has tooand he trains heroes every day because it is the reason he has for waking upevery morning.

But he hashope. No matter the blood on their hands or the monster’s body lying out there,lifeless, he has hope.

Hermione islooking for hope in this quest.

Remus talksabout the necessity to have companions. She said yes, she’s a littledistracted, a little ambitious. She does not care about beginnings and newroots, she’s only here for the end.

She goesfor the quest. She’s sure it will lead her to answers.

She is notfrightened by the smell of the oracle nor by her patchouli-infused threats.It’s an old skeleton with vintage pearl necklace and bracelets, colorful scarfsand too much dust everywhere.

It’s not adanger. Hermione Granger knows the face of danger when she sees it and it’s notin the once-human features of Sibyl Trelawney.

DracoMalfoy, Blaise Zabini and Harry Potter follow her on the forbidden land. Theyfollow her on the burnt land, where the gods are no longer listening.

Theydestroy a city while trying to save it from the monsters. Hermione is wise butshe cannot find a way to stop this building to fall on this young lady, pinkstiletto and bright smile, top bun. The mortal is collapsed under the ruins.

Hermionefreezes and watches it. There is blood on the corpse’s clothes.

She wondersif the gods saw it. She wonders if it is Malfoy’s fault.

Because,apparently, it is always his fault in this quest. It is his fault if the godsare angry (and if Nemesis is angrier.)

It is hisfault if Blaise has raised an army of skeletons to save them from worse thandeath and bones.

It is hisfault if she is still bleeding. (he has not learned how to patch wounds andhe’s not even good to comfort her.)

It isalways his fault because the quest, it was not hers. It was his. They needed tonegotiate something from Nemesis, something precious. A scale. To reestablishthe order of the world or something like that. It was perfect, it was allbruises and burns and challenges. It was a success.

UntilMalfoy made mommy angry and –

This boyhad some serious self-control issues and parental ones and she’s angrier thatshe looks out after him because –

Now, thereis a minor goodness hunting them and cursing them and throwing hell on them.

Thegriffins with their wings and their claws are ripping their bare skins.

While theyare running (sweat covers Blaise’s face and Harry throws lightning bolteverywhere around them. It’s dark. Except the neon signs of obscure and greasyfast-foods the only thing she can see between the flashes is blood. So muchblood.)

The woundson her chest is infected. It’s not ichor, it’s sticky blood and yellowish pus.She keeps her mouth shut and she takes a sip of ambrosia, just a tiny sip – ittastes like home and toothpaste and mint – because they are in a worstsituation.

So muchworse.

Malfoycrawls to her on his elbows. His face is covered in dust, and his lips istinted with carmine blood.

“I’m sorryGranger. I didn’t want this to – “

“No, you’renot.” She answers. Her tongue is sharp and her patience nonexistent. “You’re acoward, Malfoy. You are her son and you wanted revenge. You got it, champion.”

He stayssilent for a while. Harry and Blaise are nowhere close to be found. Even goingto supermarket is a threatening ride yet they are clearly seizing opportunityrather than staying between the two of them. The walking chaos and the bitterwarrior.

It was herquest. It was supposed to be her last trial.

He kissesher, this night. She bites him but he doesn’t taste the difference. He’salready bloody.

She kissesher back and her lips (god, her lips.)

It’sunreal.

v. baby, as soon as you meet me (you’ll wishthat you never did)

It is, infact.

She burstsin laughter, it’s not her laugh. She kisses him but it is not how he has everimagined (not that he has)

Either sheis far more anger than he could thought either she’s not herself. Withoutbreaking the contact between them (he feels her lashes flushing against hisskin, her heartbeat, the dryness of her lips) he takes out his dagger of hisbelt. He’s Narcissa’s son and she has at least taught him that she loved himeven if he did not love himself.

His life isprecious and there is no way he dies kissing a ferocious girl.

Heapproaches the blade to the back of her neck, where the flesh is tender, whereher hair begins to grow, she keeps kissing him and that’s when he knows –

“HermioneGranger is hyper-aware of everything that threatens her life and curiously,even more when it’s me.”

He stabsthe thing in the back without a blink. It still has her face, her dirty stainsof mud or blood on the cheek and her light in the eyes.

He watchesit fade slowly into a glassy last look.

(he hasnever dreamt about her dying, about killing her)

There is noblood on his own hands, just gold. Rivers of it, flowing on his palms.

Then hehears a scream.

She is –Hermione Granger, the true one – behind him. She looks terrified and he caneasily imagine why. He drops the bloody weapon and open his mouth to explainhimself but she doesn’t let him the time.

She’sbetter than him at reunions.

She punchesa goddess – his mother, actually – in the face and she shouts at him

“Don’t youdare kill me again in the back! You, coward!” she turns her head to heropponent, wings growing out of her white dress, black eyes like divine revengeand ichor dropping from her nose. “And you…” she yells at Nemesis “Don’t youdare to toy with him again! You, pathetic mother!”

He’samazed. As are Potter and Blaise, gasping, almost dropping their grocery bags.These guys have a great timing, truly.

“What’shappening?”

“I’vekilled Granger and now she tries to make us more in danger than we used to be.Quite a routine.”

“Nice”comments Blaise laconically.

It was niceindeed.

x.

The fact isthat Nemesis has met his father, a powerful and resentful man, in February.Coldest month to meet a sharp woman, a deadly goddess.

9 monthslater, he was married. 9 months later, he was in jail for fraud letting behindhim a spouse, a huge manor with peacocks and hedges high like ramparts. And ababy.

NarcissaMalfoy called him Draco because his father was a snake and his mother a dragon,but she loved him anyway.

The fact isthat Nemesis does not like competition. She only lives for justice. And she’snot the best mother, just the second one.

x.

She swearsto let them in peace. She doesn’t look at Draco in the eyes but she gives himthe scale without a word.

The goddessdisappears and everything returns to normal: Blaise and his charming smile,Harry, his broken glasses and his messy hair. Everything except Draco.

She goes tosleep, he takes the first turn of guard (just in case.) and the next morning,she finds him sleeping against the grey wall of cement.

She shakeshis shoulder a bit too strong and she makes his name turns to cold then tonothing in her mouth.

He rises onhis feet, quickly. He hasn’t wash the ichor on his shirt or his hands, he hasgolden blood stuck on his face and on his hair.

She doesn’tswipe it. She shakes his hand instead.

“It’s over,Malfoy. The quest is finished. Our collaboration is over.”

“Granger –“

She walksaway and she lets the steam of the public shower chase the image of his handfrozen in the space, like if he was holding on the ghost of her own.

She hasonly five minutes of peace before Blaise knocks on the door to announces thedeparture.

The journeyback is long and quiet. They slide monsters in silence. Harry and Blaise fillthe void with their incessant chatting but in the end, it’s just an annoying backgroundnoise and she just wish she had a book to avoid to stare at Malfoy’s glacialmouthline.

The camp isjust as they’ve left it. Same sickening-sugar strawberry smell. Same orangecotton shirt. Same problems and same wars between cabins. Same books on theshelves in front of her bed, same sticky-gloss written messages on the door ofthe Aphrodite’s.

And DracoMalfoy is more an empty body than a heroic soul.

But she candeal with it. She can deal with the shush and the gossips and the praises, shecan deal with new ranks and admiration glowing in the eyes of new campers.

He shows upon her porch, one morning.

“Granger, Ithink we need to talk.”

“Malfoy, Ithink we do not.”

“You died.”

Oh –

She looksat him, with his platinum hair and his angular face, edges like a broken mirrorreflecting long evenings of memories and nightmares of feathers, claws, andfalling buildings.

She cannotbreathe.

Oh –

She hastried so hard to remember. To fill the blank space. To put herself in thisthing’s place, to imagine her heart slow down and her erratic need for air, forhelp. She has tried so hard.

Sometimes,she forgets that she is not the one who is dead, and neither the one who kissedhim.

Oh –

He waits.His leg twitches. But she cannot move and she cannot take back her wordsbecause it’s over and he has stabbed her in the back, he has kissed her, he haskilled her. But she can’t remember because it was not her and it was her andshe’s not sure that he’s doing a difference and he’s on her porch –

Sometimes,she wants to be the one who kissed him, a night in an abandoned bungalow.

Oh –

He jumps aflight of steps, she grabs him by the collar.

“I don’tlike you Malfoy. You’re not wise enough to be on my side in war.”

“I know.But I’m sure that you don’t want me on the opposing side now that are know whatyour weak points are.”

“Do you?”she asks, the reminiscence of the dagger precisely driven between her twoblades floating between them.

Her chesthurts when she bends over him to grab his chin.

She kisseshim, he tastes like ambrosia and end of the world and regrets.

But hisskin is clean and the sun warms their intertwined bodies.

It’s enoughfor now. Maybe one day, he will be brave enough to forgive to Narcissa, hisfather and Nemesis.

Maybe oneday, she will be soft enough to come back home, to make an appointment at thedentist.

For now,they are just demi-gods, scared of what they have done, searching forexpiation.

[imaginationintowords]

Human: A Teen Wolf Fanfiction - Chapter 10

based on an original character, Sophia Tuteur.

Sophia Tuteur is Scott McCall’s cousin. They are both the same age, and she has been living with Scott and his mom since she was eight years old, since her parents are always on the road due to work. This is Sophia’s point of view to everything going on.

(Story does take place in the same timeline as the show.)

I woke up staring up at a ceiling that wasn't mine.

"Morning." I heard to the left of me.

"Morning." I groggily said, turning on my side to face Stiles.

"How long have you been up?" I asked yawning.

"Not long." he answered, smiling at me.

"Have you just been staring at me while I slept?" I asked him, confused.

"Possibly." he said popping the 'P' sound.

"Weirdo." I said trying to contain my smile from growing five times its size.

The butterflies in my stomach were at full force. I could just lay in this bed with him all day long.

"You know you love me." he winks, causing my cheeks to flare up. Before I could say something his phone started to go off.

"Sorry." he apologized, turning away from me.

"It's a message from Scott."

"Ugh." I rolled my eyes, turning back to lay on my back.

"He says Allison broke up with him last night and he needs me." Stiles explained, texting Scott back already.

"I guess you gotta go." I sighed. So much for a day in bed.

"Sorry." he apologized, giving me a half smile.

"Don't worry about it." I waved him off.

"Maybe we could get together later." Stiles suggested, getting out of bed.

"I have a feeling Scott is going to want you to himself all day." I told him, getting out of bed and collecting my folded up clothes.

"Don't worry about me. I have some studying to do anyways." I inform him.

"Oh okay. I'll drop you off then." He said, his face falling a little bit at my response.

Stiles and I got dressed and were on our way back to my house. As we pulled up to the house Scott was already waiting for him outside.

"I guess I'll see you later." I said to Stiles, unbuckling my seat belt and hopping out of his Jeep.

"Hey Soph." Scott greeted me as I walked by him and headed straight towards the front door.

I wasn't ready just yet to forgive him, he needed to grovel a little more.

I walked into the house to find my Aunt sitting on the couch.

"Hey Aunt Mel." I greeted her.

"Oh Sophia!" She cried out, jumping up to wrap her arms around me.

"I was so worried." She said holding onto me for dear life.

"I told you I was staying over at the Stilinski's."

"I know. I just needed to actually see you to know for myself." She explained, letting me go from her grasp.

"How are you? Did you sleep well?" She began to ask a bunch of questions.

"I'm okay. And surprisingly I slept well." I tell her.

"That's good to hear! If you need to talk you know I'm here." she offers.

"Thanks Aunt Mel. I appreciate that." I genuinely tell her.

Aunt Mel always made sure to tell me that I could always come to her for anything. She's always made sure that I never felt unwanted, which for someone who was basically abandoned by her parents, kind of needed that reassurance. It's almost been a decade since I started living with her and Scott, and she's always tried her best. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay this woman for all that she's done.

"You hungry?" she asked.

"I wouldn't say no to pancakes?" I smiled.

"Coming right up." She kissed my head.

"Thank-you. I'm going to go change and brush my teeth." I tell her.

I walked upstairs and went straight to my room. I closed the door behind me before absentmindedly throwing my purse onto my bed.

"Ow." I heard someone say, making me jump and yelp out.

I quickly turned around ready to attack.

"It's me. It's just me." I heard coming face to face with a very much alive, Derek Hale.

"Sophia, everything okay up there?" I heard my Aunt yell out from the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes! I just saw a spider." I quickly called out. I turned back to Derek.

"Derek, what the hell! You're not dead!" I quietly yelled at him.

"No. A little sore, but no not dead." he explained, still sitting on my bed.

"What are you doing here?"

"The house is covered with deputies. Apparently I'm a wanted man, again." he said.

"That is all Scott's doing. I am so sorry. I didn't want to. If it helps I'm not speaking to him." I explain.

"It's okay Sophia. Speaking of the beta, where is he?"

"He just left with Stiles. Something about Allison breaking up with him." I tell him.

"Well maybe now that she's not a distraction we can get some work done." he says.

"Doubt it." I scoffed.

"Sophia! Pancakes!" my Aunt Mel called.

"Hungry?" I asked Derek.

"A little." he honestly replied.

"I'll bring you up some." I tell him, before leaving my room.

A few minutes later and I returned with two plates filled with pancakes.

"Woah! That's a lot." Derek said.

"Well I didn't know how much you could eat. Pretty sure my aunt thinks I'm pregnant, but that'll be something to deal with later." I joked.

"Thanks." he smiled as I handed him the plate.

"So do you have any where to stay?" I asked him after we were all done eating.

"I'll probably find somewhere deep in the woods."

"Derek, you can't stay in the woods. Not with the Argents near by." I tell him.

"Well I can't go back to the house, there's deputies everywhere."

"Stay here. At least for now. Just a place to crash and stay safe." I say trying to convince him.

"Soph-"

"Derek. Please." I pleaded.

"Fine. Only for a couple of nights." He agreed.

"I'll take it." I smiled and hugged him.

Derek and I spent the rest of the night talking and him telling me I'm doing my homework wrong. I had one of the best night's sleep, just knowing that Derek was alive and safe, sleeping on my bedroom floor.

I heard a soft knock on the door, followed by the door opening. I quickly shot up looking around my room for Derek, who wasn't on the floor where I saw him last.

"Woah. Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." my aunt apologized walking into my room.

"It's okay." I say, probably looking like a crazy person.

"Just wanted to see how you were doing, first day back to school since the incident." She cautiously said.

"I'm good. I'm ready to go back." I tell her.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that." She smiled.

"I'll let you get ready then." she said, kissing me on the head before leaving me alone.

I quickly got out of bed looking around for Derek, finding a note left on my school books.

I'll see you later. Had some things to do. Don't worry! - D.

I sighed, putting the note away so no one could find it. I got ready for school and made my way downstairs to wait for my aunt. I noticed Scott in the living room putting on his shoes. I debated saying anything, but since tonight was the full moon I need to get a feel on his mood.

"So, how are you feeling?" I asked, not getting any sign of emotion from him.

"You know because of the full moon." I awkwardly continued.

"Oh, so you're talking to me now." he harshly says.

"Scott, I just needed some time and space. I was hurt." I explained to him.

"Oh trust me, I get it. I just see where you stand." he said with a death stare that could kill just about anything.

"What do you mean?" I asked very confused about this whole conversation.

"I just mean that clearly Derek means more to you than us." he bitterly said.

"That's not true." I defended.

"Yeah sure it isn't." he scoffed.

Before I could respond my Aunt Mel walked into the room.

"Lets go." she cheerfully said, heading out the front door.

When we pulled up to the school there were sheriff deputies everywhere.

It's going to be a long day.

"If you need anything call me." Aunt Mel told us as we were exiting the car.

Scott didn't bother waiting for me and he quickly entered the school. I rolled my eyes, as I walked towards the entrance.

I noticed Stiles talking to his dad in the hallway. I waited for them to finish up. Once they were done talking, Stiles made his way towards me.

"Everything okay?" I asked him, noticing his frazzled expression.

"Yeah. Was just telling my dad to be safe out there tonight. And I asked if they've found Derek, and nothing though." he informed me.

"Good." I said.

"I'm sure he's okay Soph." he reassured me.

"Yeah. That's actually not what I'm worried about right now." I tell him, leaving out the part about actually knowing where Derek was at.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Scott. He isn't himself. It's the full moon. He completely snapped at me this morning." I explained to him.

"We are just going to have to keep an eye on him, very closely." I tell him.

"Okay. We could do that." Stiles agreed.

We both walked into Mr. Harris' class where Scott was trying to talk to Allison. As soon as the bell rang Mr. Harris began class with handing out the tests. During the test I noticed Scott wasn't able to sit still in his seat. All of a sudden he shot out of his seat and ran out of the class. Stiles followed after, grabbing Scott's backpack in the process.

Mr. Harris turned towards me.

"Do you know anything about that, Ms. Tuteur?" He asked, suddenly all eyes were on me.

"No clue." I answered honestly.

"Should I give Mr. McCall and Mr. Stilinski a failing grade?"

"No, Sir. They'll be back." I said worried for both boys.

"I hope you're correct." He snide.

After ten minutes Stiles walked back into the classroom, alone.

"Well it's nice of you to rejoin us, Mr. Stilinski. Where's your buddy, Mr. McCall at?" Mr. Harris questioned him.

"He'll be back shortly. He just had a panic attack." Stiles said, looking at me as he made his way back to his seat.

A few minutes later Scott returned back into the class. Mr. Harris didn't say a thing, not wanting to grab more of the class' attention.

After the class was over, I made the decision to stay away from Scott, not wanting to cause any more trouble with him. I really wish there was a way I could contact Derek, but that goes against his whole 'hiding from the law' thing going on right now. Plus I wouldn't know how to get a hold of him.

I decided that the best thing for me was to just avoid Scott as much as I possibly can while we were in school. The last thing I needed was for him to blow up around people. I managed to avoid him all day, until we bumped into each other after school while I was heading out.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" I cautiously asked him.

"Like you care." he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Scott, come on. You know that I do care."

"Yeah right. Sure seems like it. The only person you care about is Derek, and he's dead." He angrily remarked.

"That's not true." I argued.

"Oh right. You also care about Stiles, because you have a massive crush on him." he said a little more louder, so people could hear.

I quickly looked around thankful the halls were semi-empty.

"Scott, please keep it down." I pleaded with him.

"God, you're so pathetic." he spat, the venom laced in his tone.

"He doesn't even like you like that. Hell he will NEVER like you like that. He's in love with Lydia, and let me tell you, you are no Lydia." he harshly said, getting closer to me.

I could feel the tears welling up.

Come on Sophia, you know he can't control himself. You know he's just hurting you to get a reaction.

Well it's working.

"No matter what you do, he will never love you." he finished digging the metaphorical knife in my back.

I was left standing in an empty hallway with tears slowly falling down my face. I  quickly brushed them away and headed towards the school's exit.

As soon as I got home I ran straight to my room and closed the door behind me. As soon as te door was closed, I let the tears continue to fall. Scott hit me right where it hurt and he knew exactly what he was doing. He got the reaction he wanted.

I stayed up in my room for the remainder of the day, my Aunt came up to check on my once asking if I was okay. I told I just needed to be alone for awhile, she didn't ask any further questions and left me alone.

After a quiet dinner, filled with small talk, I went back up to my room to finish up my homework. Around eight o'clock I heard my Aunt walk towards my open door, she poked her head in.

"Hi Soph. I just wanted to see how you were doing in here?"

"I'm doing well, thank-you." I way too formally replied.

"Okay. Is Scott home?"

"I don't think so." We both heard the sound of the front door unlocking.

"Oh that must be him." She says heading downstairs.

I could hear the sound of Scott's window opening and closing as she made her way down. I got up and walked towards the stairs to see who was trying to get in.

"Scott?" Melissa asked as the door was opening.

"Stiles." said the boy who showed himself. I rolled my eyes, heading back towards my room closing the door behind me. I was in no mood to talk to anyone right now.

I sat back at my desk, but less than thirty seconds later I heard a soft knock on my window. I swiveled my chair around to see Derek outside my window. I quickly got up and let him in.

"Hi." I whispered as quietly as I can.

"Hey. Is everyone home?" He asked, I nodded my head.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sensing my mood.

"Nothing." I lied.

"Nothing? Really?" he asked again, raising his eyebrow.

"What'd he do?" he asked, already knowing.

"It's nothing. I'll be over it by tomorrow." I tell him.

Before Derek could say anything there was a knock on the door. I put my index finger to my mouth, silencing Derek.

"Soph? It's Stiles." he called from the other side of the door. I remained quiet.

"Sophia? I know you're in there. Your Aunt told me so. I brought some stuff over to help control Scott." I scoffed, rolling my eyes

"He doesn't need my help." I called out.

"Yes he does. Whatever he did I'm sure he's sorry. You weren't the only one he screwed over. But he still needs our help." He stressed.

"Well you go help him."

"Sophia." he whined, I remained quiet.

"Fine." he huffed and walked away from my door.

"Let me guess, whatever Scott did, it had something to do with the weird one." Derek said putting the pieces together.

"I don't want to talk about it. So unless you have other things to talk about, I'm done with this conversation." I harshly tell him.

"Wow. Whatever he did, must've been bad." Derek said, sitting down on my bed.

I went back to my desk. We remained quiet, while Derek was listening in on Scott and Stiles, I was trying to focus on homework. After awhile of trying to do my homework, I just gave up on it and was just doodling in my notebook. I could hear Stiles' voice in the hallway.

"You kissed her, Scott, okay? You kissed Lydia. That's, like, the one girl that I ev-" my heart dropped, if  I thought it hurt when Scott told me, I was dead wrong.

"-and, you know, the past three hours, I've been thinking, it's probably just the full moon, you know, he doesn't even know what he's doing, and tomorrow, he'll be totally back to normal. He probably won't even remember what a complete dumbass he's been. A son of a bitch, a freaking unbelievable piece of crap friend." I continued to listen.

There was a moment of quiet that followed. Scott must've been talking.

"What?" I heard Stiles exclaim.

I looked over at Derek.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"Lydia kissed him." He whispered.

I couldn't help but feel bad for Stiles, if anyone knows what he's going through right now, I would.

Derek and I just waited to see what was going to happen, after about thirty minutes he quickly got up.

"What happened?" I asked, as he headed towards the window.

"He broke free and he's leaving. I'm going to go follow him." He said opening the window and leaving.

"Scott? Scott? Oh no. Sophia!" I heard Stiles yell.

I quickly got up and ran out of my room to Scott's.

"What's wrong?" I asked his frantic self.

"He's gone. Scott left! We have to go find him." He said panicking.

"Stiles calm down." I said grabbing his shoulders.

"Calm down? Calm down! Scott is out of control, who knows who could get hurt because of him. My dad!" he gasped.

"Stiles, breathe!" I grabbed his face to look at me.

"It's okay. Derek is going after him." I tell him, still holding onto his face.

"Derek? But Derek is dead." He said confused at this brand new information.

"He's not. He's alive." I explain to him, dropping my hands from his face.

"How long have you known?" he asked.

"Since last night. He crashed here last night. He told me not to tell anyone, especially since he's a wanted man."

"You know you could've told me." he says.

"I know, but then the whole Scott thing happened." I tell him.

Before Stiles could say anything we were interrupted by sirens passing by the house.

"My dad! I have to go check on my dad." Stiles said, rushing out of the room.

"Stiles, I'll come with you." I say rushing after him.

"Oh so now you want to help?" He abruptly stopped, causing me to bump into his back.

"Stiles come on. I'm sorry." I apologized.

"Okay. Apology accepted." he smiled.

"That was easy."

"I don't know what Scott did to you, but it must've been bad. So no need to make you suffer any more than you already have today." He said before walking out the front door.

The car ride was quiet, the only sound coming from the police scanner Stiles kept in his Jeep. Stiles was driving well above the speed limit, getting to the crime scene in under ten minutes. As soon as we get there Stiles jumped out of the Jeep, searching for his dad. He found him before I could even get out of the car. I decided to stay back in the car, giving them their space.

The sheriff waved at me, and I returned it back. He gave his son a hug before Stiles made his way back to me.

"Good?" I asked as he buckled up his seat belt.

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks." he smiled over at me.

"Want to go grab some milkshakes and head back to my place to wait up for Scott to return." I suggested.

"Sounds like a plan." He agreed putting the car into drive, and driving away from the crime scene.

We got home to find Scott was already home, but he wasn't alone, he and Derek were up in his room talking.

"Hey. Is everything okay now?" Stiles awkwardly asked the pair, stepping into the room.

"Is it?" Derek asked Scott.

"Yeah, it will be." Scott confirmed, looking better than he has all day.

"Glad to hear. Well I'm going to head to bed." I awkwardly said, leaving the boys alone.

"Go apologize." I heard Derek say as I walked out.

"Sophia, wait!" Scott called out, as I stopped in front of my door, and turned towards him.

"Listen, I am so sorry for what I said. It was extremely uncalled for. I should have never said those things. I didn't even mean them." he apologized.

"It's okay Scott. I know, you couldn't control yourself, I get it. You're forgiven." I smiled, genuinely accepting his sincere apology.

"Thanks Soph." he said, wrapping me in his arms for a hug.

"Plus you were right, a bit rude, but you were." I confess.

"Soph-"

"Scott, you were. Who am I kidding, he will never like me the way he likes her. I was only fooling myself into thinking he could." I sadly say.

"Sophia, that's not true." He denied.

"You know what, I'm tired. It's been a long day and I just want to sleep today away. Okay?" I tell him, handing my half full milkshake.

"Okay. Night." he tells me, looking at the chocolate shake in his hand.

"Night Scott." I say as I enter my room and close the door behind me.

I changed into my pajamas, stripping the clothes of today away. I got into bed and grabbed the book I kept on my nightstand, the one I read before falling asleep.

As much as I wanted to believe what Scott just said, I can't forget the hurtful words he spoke earlier today at school. I just wish it would be easier for me to forget how I feel about Stiles. Actually I wish I never even felt this way about him in the first place. I am just chasing an empty dream, that will never become a reality, and it's time I accept that.

I heard a soft knock on my door.

"Come in." I softly said, expecting it to be Derek.

"Hey. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Stiles said walking in, closing the door behind him.

"Yeah, I'm good. You didn't need to check up on me." I tell him.

"Well it's kind of my job as the best friend." He said, as he sat at my feet.

Best friend. That's all I will ever be.

"Thanks. I'm good though. Just going to read myself to sleep." I half joked.

"Okay. Well I'll leave you to it." He smiled getting off of my bed.

"Actually there was something I wanted to ask you, but with everything that went on today kind of forgot." He stood at the end of my bed.

"Do you need me to tutor you in math again?" I jokingly ask.

"No, it's actually not about school. Well it kind of is, but not about homework." He nervously laughed.

"Okay. What's up?" I asked beginning to get curious about this question.

"You know how we have that winter formal dance coming up?" He nervously asked.

"Yeah." I trailed.

"Well I was actually wondering, if...you would like to go with me?" He asked looking down at his feet kicking the air.

"Oh. Like as friends?" I asked trying to hide my smile, not wanting to get my hopes up that it was more than a friendly offer.

"Well yeah, but I was umm actually hoping that- you know- we um-could go as a date?" He nervously said, tripping over his words.

"As a date?" I repeated, making sure I heard correctly. The evident smile on my face showing.

"Yeah. So what do you say?" He said finally looking up at my grinning face.

"Yeah. I would love to be your date, Stiles." I answered him, biting my bottom lip to try and contain my smile from growing any bigger.

"Really? I mean, great! This is going to be great!" He smiled.

"Yeah it will be." I laughed.

"Cool. So I'll buy the tickets, and we can talk more about it once it gets closer-" he said tripping over his feet on the way to the door. I jumped up on my bed to check on him.

"I'm good. I'm good." He got up quickly, getting a giggle from me.

"Good night Stiles." I say.

"Good night Sophia." He says smiling at me and staring at me with the door open.

"Get out of her room already!" Derek yelled, causing Stiles to jump and me to laugh.

"Right. Bye." He said leaving my room and closing the door behind him.

I guess today wasn't a bad one after all. And maybe Scott was right, maybe I was wrong.

I went to bed that night with a gigantic smile on my face.

Hope you guys like it!! I am going to start working on Chapter 11 tomorrow, to hopefully get that one out in the next couple of weeks(as it will most likely be longer than this one)

Feel free to let me know what you thought of this chapter!

Thanks for reading!!

xx

[mint-vie]

Sunflower 🌻

Part 3 "The beautiful waitress"       At the Moon Coffee...       "Hey Flav, the man who complained about our coffee yesterday, come here again," A waitress called Flav to stare a look at L who just walked in.       L gave a big smile at Flav who was standing with a menu in hand and found a place to sit.       Flav walked towards L' s table and asked, "What do you want to order, sir?"          Without answering, he stood up and looked at Flav, "What do you want to drink, Mrs.?"       "Please, make a quick order, sir because there're so many others clients waiting to order."       "Ok, so I choose for you, one hot coffee and kiwi frappe."       "Ok, sir!" Flav noted down and rushed to leave.       L didn't stop staring and smiling at Flav who was moving from one table to another table, serving and ordering for clients. She didn't have time to take a look at L.       "Flav," the boss called.       "Yes, sir!"       "Your job today is to sit down and talk with our client."       She knew immediately who the client was, no one beside L, the stranger.       “Yes, sir!"      Flav took a tray of coffee towards L. She put the cup of coffee on the table and sat down in front of him.      "Don't you have anything to do? Orr your work is to mess up with me?"      "You should take some rest," he said and took a sip of his hot coffee.      "If you don't have anything to say, I have to do my work."      "I pay the money for you to have some rest, Flav. Please sit down or I will..."         Flav interrupted, "Complain about me right?"      L smiled and tried to change the subject, "You're cute when you're angry.”      Flav stared at L with her annoying face.      "What do you want to know about me?" L asked.      Flav said nothing and L continued, "Let's say this is the first thing that we get to know each other more. Hence you won't call me a stranger again."      Flav finally smiled, "You know that right? Ok so I want to know about your family first?"      "After I finished, it will be your turn. Deal?"      "Ok, deal!"      "I m an orphan,” he said with a sad face and continued without staring at Flav, “My mom was killed after she divorced with my dad and after that my dad was died in the car crashed. My younger sister was sent to the United State after the accident of my dad. My brother moved to live in my dad’s house because he did follow my dad's step. I have to live alone after they all left, and follow my mother's step.” .     "I'm so sorry, L, it is such a sad story," Flav said and leaned to catch L's hand in order to comfort him.       "You are the first person who I share this with."       Flav smiled, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone and at least, you're not alone. Sometime I also think that I am an orphan, I have a family which kicked me out from home after I graduated from high school,” Flav smiled and continued, “They never care about where I work or how I live. They only care about my brother. I can't to go to college and end up my life working as the waitress since my parents need money for my brother to pursue his study at the university. My life is too pathetic but I'm so grateful because I m better than some homeless people, have some good friends around me."       L smiled, "Am I counted to be your friends?"       "Yeah, if you don’t discriminate the poor like me," Flav said with a big smile on her face.      "Do you still want to work at the Sunshine company?"      "Yeah but it's just a dream. I have something to tell you, don't laugh at me, ok?"      "I won't,"      "In fact, I haven't gone through the university life. I just took self study through the internet so it would be crazy if they chose me to work there."      "If you want to work there I would make your dream come true."      Flav smiled, "It's ok, L. I know how difficult your family situation is, so it's better not to bother you and I'm fine with this job."      L frowned his eyebrows and then laughed out loud, "Do you know who is the CEO of the Sunshine company?"      "No, don't ask me about those rich people, I don't give a shit to care or know about them."      "Maybe it is one of the reason why you failed from your interview since you didn't even know who is the CEO."      Flav laughed out loud and they continued to have such a good conversation with each other. It has been almost more than three weeks that L kept coming to Flav work place and they became good friends.           At the Sunshine company...      In the CEO office, Sun was sitting on the chair waiting for his brother, Light which was known as L. Light walked in with a straight face.      "What do you want?" Light asked.      "Hi, Light! it's almost a month that you stay at the Cloudy hotel. Go back to your home."      "Mind your own business, Sun. I can stay wherever I want to because I still have to live alone, no family to worry about," Light said with anger.      Sun took his eyes off from Light and stood up, "Irina will come back from the United State soon, I hope you won't ruin your date with her again."      "You should care about your, business, the Wolf, lend money, take the interest from the loan and kill people instead of thinking about my company.”      "Shut up," Sun screamed and was about to punch Light in the face but he put his hand off.      "You look exactly like dad, Sun. Mom was killed because of dad but you still moved to live with him and kept following his step. Do you want to end up your life like him?" Light cried.      "It's a must for me to continue his business and stay away from me because I don't want you to walk in this dangerous ways with me. Let’s bring mom's company back and be the president of the Sunshine company. Do not lose it to someone else. Remember, Light, the vote of the president will come soon and we only have 35% for our investment in this company, so you have to marry Irina, her dad contains 20% of this company. He will give it to you after you marry his daughter and if you don’t we will probably lose the Sunshine.”       "But I don't love Irina either, you knew that already."       "After getting married, love will come after that."       "You said that because you never love anyone, Sun. I feel sorry for you."       "Remember, Light! you are 27 now not a kid anymore, you have to marry Irina or I will take this company back from you since you still keep behaving like a chicken," Sun said and walked out of the office, left Light standing with tears on his face like a small kid.       Meanwhile at the Moon Coffee...       Flav was busy with her job as always and she seemed searching for someone.      "Are you seeking for your friend?" the boss asked.      Flav rushed to reject, "Oh no, sir."      "He is out side. Let have a wonderful date with him, Flower," the boss said and smiled at Flav.      "Thank sir,"      Light was waiting for Flav out side the Moon Coffee, Flav called him with a big smile on her face.      "Hey Stranger!"      He smiled and waved at Flav from the other side of the road. She ran towards him with a big smile on her beautiful face.      "Where are we going?"      Light smiled, "The movie, the Belle and the Beast."      "That's my favorite Disney princess."      "Ok, let's go Belle," Light said.      Flav laughed out loud and continued the joke, "My majesty Beast."        Meanwhile at the Wolf village...      Sun was sitting in his office with phone in his hand. Suddenly there was a message from J and he rushed to open it. It was the photo of Flav and Light in front of the Moon Coffee and at the cinema. We can see Light's face clearly who looked so excited.      Sun insisted, "He only took the back of the girl, he really need to learn how to take a photo."      He finished his word and dialed to his best partner, Win.      "Hello, Win, I want you to do something, related to Light's girl."

     Meanwhile on the way back to Flav home...      "You can stop here, L and I will walk home."      "Should I walk you home?"      "It's ok, you need to take the car back to your friend. Orr if you're late he won't lend you his car, again."      Light made a face, "I almost forgot about that."      Flav smiled, "Thanks for today, L"      She said and got off from the car.      "Wait, Flav!" Light got off from the car and ran towards Flav.      "What?"      Without answering Light leaned to kiss Flav's forehead.      "L, what are you doing?"      Light stared at Flav's face, "I start liking you more and more from time to time."      "L!"      "Do not blame me for this, Flav. I will make you love me soon."      Flav started flushing, "We’re just friend, L!"      “I don’t want to hear about this.”      “Good bye,”      Flav looked at L and She left while Light turned out to be sad and hopeless.      "I hope you will love me for who am I and forgive for what I have lied, Flav."

     At the Flav rent apartment...      Mira was waiting for Flav at the front door.      "Who is that handsome guy, Flav?" she smiled.      Flav said nothing and Mira continued, "I saw everything, Flav."      "He is just a friend."      "A friend who makes your face flushing like tomato, Flav you're lying. Do you like him?"      "Stop Mira, I don't have time to care about boy."      "I know you like him."      Flav smiled and escaped from Mira to her room.

To be continued...

[apieceot-blog]

podcast recs

yo what’s up homeslices it’s my 100th post so I figured I’d do a list of podcast recommendations because I listen to a lot of em. I’m going to do it in the (approximate) order of when I first started listening to them. The first podcast I ever listened to was some Sword Art Online podcast but I don’t count that so the first podcast I ever listened to was:

Wolf 359

Wolf 359 is a podcast about a crew of astronauts onboard the USS Hepheastus. It stars communications officer Doug Eiffel, and it’s told through his audio logs. It starts off as a comedy, but quickly transitions into something else. Worry not, though, there’s plenty of comedy throughout the entire story. It has really amazing audio quality at the end which I always love (it’s seirously asmr worthy) and uh yeah space podcasts are my jam

Welcome To Night Vale

WTNV is a lot of people’s gateway into podcasts and chances are you’ve already heard of it but here we go anyway. It’s told in the format of a local radio station set in the town of Night Vale where lots of spooky things happen. To the host of the show and to most of the town, these spooky things are considered normal, and it’s fun to hear our host speak about Glow Clouds (all hail) and floating pyramids in a matter-of-fact tone which is usually pretty funny. There’s a backlog of over 100 episodes, which makes it great to binge. You could also start it wherever you want. I’d suggest looking up a list of plot specific episodes and listening to those first if you don’t want to listen to all of them in order.

The Bright Sessions

This podcast is about a therapist who helps people with superpowers (atypicals) adjust to and control their powers. There’s a few different main characters, and each episode is one of their therapy sessions. At first, they each have their own individual stories, but they intersect fairly soon into it. It’s ending soon (cri cri) so this is one that you might want to start with.

Alice Isn’t Dead

From the same creators of WTNV! This one’s more focused on horror than comedy, and it’s about a woman who’s wife has died, only, as it turns out, she isn’t dead. The only thing she has to go off of is a company: Bay and Creek Shipping, and so she becomes a trucker. The podcast is about her various trips and the things she sees along the way. It’s fairly short, and is currently in it’s third and final (!!!!!) sesson. There’s also a book coming out soon if you don’t want to listen to a podcast.

The Penumbra Podcast

If you’re looking for LGBTQ+ content, this is the podcast for you. It tells a variety of different stories featuring minorities that don't get enough rep in the media. There are two main stories that they’re currently doing. One is Juno Steel, which is about a detective named Juno (and it's on Mars!) He runs into a guy named Rex Glass who… let’s just say he isn’t what he seems. It’s very good but prepare to feel many emotions as we go on adventures with Juno and learn about his past and who he is as a person. The other recurring storyline is The Second Citadel which tells stories from the points of view of many different people all living in the fictional world of The Second Citadel. I’d recommend listening to the Juno Steel episodes and then going back and listening to the rest. There are two horror stories at the beginning which I’d recommend you listen with caution because there are some potentially sensitive topics. They don't impact your listening experience at all though, because they're standalone stories.

Conversations With People Who Hate Me

This one’s another Night Vale Presents podcast. This time it’s a nonfiction podcast where Dylan Marron (a fav and the voice of Carlos on WTNV) calls people who have said negative things about him online, and has a conversation with them. He also monitors conversations between two people sometimes. It’s really great and is something we all need nowadays.

Within the Wires

Last Night Vale Presents one, I swear. I haven’t finished this one yet (last episode yeet) but it tells stories through (first season) relaxation cassettes and (second season) museum tour guides. It’s set in the same world and it connects at the very end. It’s really relaxing because there’s only one voice, and both of the voices (1st and 2nd season) are very nice to listen to.

The Adventure Zone

It took me a very long time to finish this, but trust me, it’s worth it. It’s in its second season now so you’ve got many hours of quality content ahead of you. It’s a dnd campaign (that doesn’t 100% follow the dnd rules) but that doesn’t matter because the storytelling is *chef’s kiss*. It follows the Très Horny Boys (which is not a porn thing @my friends) on their adventures. Anyone who knows me (both here and irl) knows that I have an unhealthy obsession with the McElroy brothers, and this podcast stars them and their dad.

The Far Meridian

TFM is about an agoraphobic woman who lives in a lighthouse that suddenly starts moving to new places every day. It’s all about her learning to deal with her agoraphobia, and her search for her missing brother. It’s a really calming podcast to listen to, and tells a really interesting story. Even if you don’t think that this podcast is one for you, I strongly suggest following their tumblr. They post Gentle Encouragement Monday, which is a cool thing to look at if you aren’t feeling the best, or if you’re just bored one day.

ars PARADOXICA

This one also took me a while to get through, but it’s very interesting and definitely worth the listen. It’s about a woman who accidentally goes back in time to 1943. It’s definitely a more serious podcast, but there are plenty of funny moments, too. It’s ending soon, so now would probably be the time to start. The main character is canonically asexual which is very cool, and there are plenty of characters that address the hardships that minorities faced in the 20th century, as well as the struggles they still face today. There’s also plenty of history (and rewritten history) and it all makes a very interesting podcast.

Inkwyrm

This one’s about the AI caretaker of a fashion magazine and her adventures. It’s another Gay Space Podcast™ and is done by high schoolers (!!) which is EXTREMELY impressive and definitely something that I could probably not do. It’s in its second season right now, I believe, and although the audio quality isn’t for everyone, the story is still good and worth the listen.

OAKPODCAST

This is one that I’m going to relisten to soon because I forget a lot of what happens. It’s about a spy named Holly who gets stranded somewhere and it's told through her audio posts. If you donate to her funding accounts (I forget which ones), the donations are transferred into items that she buys to help keep herself alive. I really liked that part of the podcast! I definitely recommend this, but can’t really give an accurate summary because, as I said, I forget a lot of the things that happen.

EOS 10

There sure is an abundance of space podcasts. It’s pretty much its own genre at this point. Anyway this one follows Doctor Ryan Dalias and the rest of the crew of EOS 10, which is a space station. It’s currently in hiatus, but they’re starting work on season 3, which is exciting. A lot of people describe it as “Scrubs but in space” which I’m sure is accurate but I’ve never seen Scrubs so I wouldn’t know. Make sure to look up the content warnings, though because there was something that I didn’t expect in episode 4 and it didn’t bother me too much, but there might be other people for whom it does bother.

King Falls AM

This one’s another podcast told through radio broadcasts, but it’s set in this day and age. It’s a comedy that also delves into paranormal stuff (apparitions, the void, and more). It, like so many before it, starts off very lighthearted and quickly turns more serious. There’s still plenty o’ laughs, though. Featuring the world’s longest slowburn relationship (besides Blupjeans Adventure Zone of course). There’s quite a few LGBTQ+ characters, and more than quite a few emotions to be felt over the course of this podcast. It just went on hiatus, so now is the perfect time to catch up!

My Brother, My Brother, and Me

This one’s an advice podcast that was actually my first podcast, now that I think about it, but I stopped midway through the first episode because I wanted to listen to Wolf 359 instead. My goal is to finish all 400+ episodes by the end of the year, but that’s probably not going to happen. It’s an advice podcast where the McElroy brothers usually don’t give good advice, but there are a lot of good goofs to be had. A fair amount of what I say on a regular basis is actually a McElroy quote, but because none of my friends listen to this, (yet), I’m safe.

The McElroys Will Be In Trolls 2

It’s exactly what the title says.

Wonderful!

This one is just Griffin and Rachel McElroy  talking about things that they love! It’s a really great podcast to listen to when you aren’t feeling great, or if you just need some time to yourself. Not only is it a great podcast, but Griffin and Rachel love each other so much? Like you can hear it in their voices? And it’s just a really happy podcast? Honestly I’ve felt very emotional more than a few times just because this is such a lovely podcast and adsfhjlkldasfhgf

Shmanners

Travis McElroy and his wife Teresa teach us about the history of good etiquette, and how it applies to us in everyday situations! Are you out of episodes of Wonderful! to listen to? This one’s a pretty good second option, and you learn new things each week!

Sawbones

Justin and Sydnee McElroy talk about the history of medicine, and things that have gone wrong with it in the past. It’s really interesting to hear about these medical things because it’s an area that I know very little about, but probably should know more about, seeing that I should learn to take care of this flesh prison that I currently reside in.

I think that’s it! If there’s any more I guess I’ll have to make another list some other time. Congrats if you’re still reading this, by the way. I hope I’ve given you some new stuff to listen to! I’m always down to talk about podcasts (or anything else, for that matter), so uhh hit me up I guess. Also feel free to recommend me more podcasts, because I’m always in need of some new ones!