#there are so many layers to him he’s like an onion

[hotcocoabuns]

I think this was the first shot that subverted the idea I was getting of Dream’s character in the show. He’d seemed so still, like a statue. Beautiful, never meant to be touched. It felt as if simply laying your eyes upon him would be sacrilegious.

Presenting a little meta and character analysis of Morpheus in this scene from the first episode of The Sandman in the shape of a drabble. Feat. Dream’s Tears, Jessamy-oops-she’s-dead-now, and Roderick and Alex Burgess’ horrible decisions.

By me.

He looked like coiled rage, cold disdain, barely suppressed power. Unfathomable and of incomprehensible nature. Everything that was being done to him—the kidnapping, the disposal of his clothing, the theft of his tools, the humiliation—, gave me the sensation that what they were doing was foolish. Crazy. That they couldn’t even begin to comprehend the severity of their actions. Measly little humans trying to cover the sun with the tip of a finger. Trapping that which is more eternal than holy.

An attempt to contain the uncontainable, control the uncontrollable, inhibit that which cannot (should not) be inhibited. They were being stupid. Maybe their ignorance would spare them from the worst of the Dreamlord’s fury, but with each passing day their sins only bred.

It striked me as nothing but a matter of time. Not an if, but a when. And I’m sure it felt that way for Morpheus too. He’d break out of this greed-made, crystalline prison, bring vengeance upon his captors, recover his scattered tools, and carry on with his duties.

Like nothing happened. Here, Morpheus’ patience is deadly, maddeningly so. He is in no rush in front of them. He outright refuses to be. He betrays nothing. Gives nothing. Not a hitch in his breathing, nor a twitch of his eye, nor a parting of his mouth.

Immutable. Although he’s caged like the sweetest songbird that’s been captured only for its (jailer) master. Although the dreamers and the dreams and the nightmares call out to him. Even if they believe he has abandoned them, left them to fend for themselves.

He remains. Until Jessamy (loyal, good-natured Jessamy) decides she’s taking her chances. And what chances they are. She’s done waiting around for these greedy humans to slip. To mess up the well-oiled machine they’ve become to maintain the Lord of the Dreaming ensnared.

Even for Morpheus to conjure the help of his siblings, as inconceivable as that is. Eons could’ve passed them by. Earth could’ve collapsed in on itself, before he’d do anything of the sort. But hope is a mighty thing, and hope gets you to dream.

(Even of the impossible. Of the absurd.)

So, she glided.

She glided through the Burgess Estate, caused a distraction, reached her Lord. And THAT’S where everything changes. There, in those few moments, an emotion betrays the impassive face concealed behind hefty metal bars, holding his prison together.

Hope is contagious, and so are the emotions that accompany it. Morpheus stirs—not only stirs; stands. On his own two feet, after decades of waiting, waiting, waiting, ever vigilant—, and is moved. He looks up at Jessamy, his friend, his companion. She wouldn’t leave him.

Wouldn’t cast him aside. He smiles. There she is; she’s pecking on layer upon layer, impenetrable. They both know she can’t get through them. He knows well when efforts are gone to waste, and this is one of those occasions. Yet, there is comfort in her presence.

(In knowing he’s the one that hasn’t been abandoned.

Forgotten.)

Then, there’s a blast. Blinding, cruel. It’s so sudden, so loud, it makes him flinch. Blood, there is blood and innards and shards of bone splattered against his glass contraption. Outside, out of reach.

For a moment, it appears that Morpheus does not comprehend what’s happened. His eyes dart around, confused, disbelieving. That was a shot, a shot fired.

Then, oh.

Oh.

It’s Jessamy crumpled on the floor. It’s her organs sprayed on the glass, on the floor. Jessamy’s been shot.

Everything changes, in a second. Morpheus, unmoving, severe, statuesque-

cries.

His tears cling to his eyelashes, they wet his eyes, slide down the length of his nose, gather and slip off his Cupid’s bow.

He looks down, the crumpled shape of Jessamy being taken away, and he fixes the Burgess fledgling with a stare more frigid than the Antarctic itself. Everything’s changed now. Alex has sealed his fate. Morpheus rarely forgives. He does not forget.

This is personal now.

There shall be no rest for the wicked, and he’s going to make sure of it.

[lyingfallow]

i actually don’t know why i don’t see anyone loving karen because i love her. because she’s special to me

[collectorcookie]

Don Snow

[a-wayfairing-stranger]

Listening to the playlist I made for Rawne and taking physic damage with each song.

[arklay]

once upon a time i liked a ship for what it was and then i saw how the fandom treated it and now i have visceral hatred towards it (harsh but not far off)

[sunriseverse]

every day i think about the way being raised in a brothel probably fucked up jgy’s relationship to sex and sexuality and i do the emotional equivalent of taking out a cigarette and a bottle of vodka and slowly falling into oblivion as i stare off into the depths of the night.

[ashasdiary]

Layers

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!Reader Synopsis: Nanami shows you one of his very many talents: carpentry. You liken him to a certain vegetable. CW: fluff, Nanami being husband material, sexual themes WC: 879 A/N: I miss my big buff man 🥺

Nanami Kento is quite the multifaceted man, you’ve come to find. 

In the few short months of being together, he has pleasantly surprised you now and then as you have gotten to uncover more of him. 

“You’re like an onion,” you tell him one day, leaning back against the wall in your living room, watching while he puts together a custom nightstand that he had made and measured himself. 

He turns and looks at you, brows furrowed slightly but an amused smile on his lips, “Why, ‘cause I stink?”

He was sweating — it was a hot day, too, but you admittedly loved the smell of him. He didn’t smell bad at all; you read somewhere that people enjoy the smell of people they’re in love with. So it checked out. 

“You don’t stink. No, because you have layers, like an onion,” you explain. 

“Are you really quoting Shrek right now?” he snorts and laughs, shaking his head as he looks back to the wood pieces and hammers the next piece. 

“No!” You begin, but then trail off, “Well…maybe. Listen, I’m just saying…you have a lot of talents and I didn’t expect you to be able to do so many things.”

“Doubting my capabilities, sweetheart?” He throws you a smirk and hammers another piece before he sits back and assesses it with the ruler. 

Straight, sharp, angled perfectly. He’s quite pleased. 

“Not at all. I know you’re capable of a lot but you still somehow manage to surprise me quite often,” you say and watch as he smooths his hand over the wood that he’d gotten specifically for this — it was finally finished. 

It was a beautiful piece of walnut wood that he’d sourced. It filled your heart with so much joy that he’d done this; it was truly the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for you. You’re overcome with emotion, getting a little teary eyed, as he stands up and looks at his work. 

“It’s beautiful, Ken,” you come up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, both of you admiring the piece of furniture that was now going to be a permanent part of your home — and life, probably. “I don’t know how to thank you,” you hug him tightly and he smiles. 

“You don’t have to, sweetheart. I enjoyed making it and the challenge. I was debating on doing a finish but I think its natural form is already beautiful. What do you think?” He covers your hands with his own and massages them gently as he looks to you intently. 

“I love it as it is. I love it, I love it, I love it. And I love you,” you give him another squeeze. 

“I love you more, honey,” he pats your hands, “let’s go put it in the bedroom.”

You release him from your hold and follow behind him as he picks it up and carries it into the bedroom, setting it gently by the bed.

“Ta da…! You wanna decorate it and put stuff in the drawers while I wash up quickly?” He suggests, giving you a quick, chaste peck before he disappears into the bathroom. 

The small smile on your face is permanent and your cheeks hurt a little as you put a few things on and inside your new nightstand, finishing with a book on top. 

You head to the kitchen and start to make dinner - you were thinking of a nice dish of rice and curry. You wash the rice and leave it to cook as you chop up some onions and other vegetables for the curry. As you’re doing so, you hear him come out of the bathroom, humming a tune. 

You smile over at him as he walks over and circles his arms around you from behind. 

“I was thinking of how to show you my appreciation for making the nightstand,” you tell him, “I had a few ideas, but the most prominent, short term idea was that I let my body do the talking.”

You feel him smile against your skin, large hands massaging your hips, “I knew you’d say that. But I don’t expect anything in return, sweetheart, you know that.”

“I know. That’s what makes me want you more,” you teasingly push your hips back against his, feeling how his length is stirring to life in his pants. 

“Honey?” He murmurs against your neck, nosing your soft skin. 

He’s trying to be poised, but god, you make it so hard. 

Literally. 

“Yes, Ken?” Your reply is soft as you turn your head to gaze up at him. He plants his lips on yours, kissing you gently. 

“This onion wants you to take his layers off.”

Your chest shakes with laughter at how seriously he said it, and you turn in his arms and slip your arms around his neck, pecking his soft lips a few times, growing hungrier for him, “Best believe I will be taking all of your layers off and getting to your core. But are you going to be a spicy onion, are you gonna make me cry?”

“Affirmative,” he grins, turning off the heat on the stove as he pulls you gently out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, where he had every intention of bringing tears to your eyes.

Do not copy or translate my work. © ashasdiary, all rights reserved.

Divider by cafekitsune

[phoenixcatch7]

Luo binghe dies.

The system offers the widowed husband resurrection, the ability to continue the world even after the 'true' story has ended. Because the world cannot exist without its protagonist, it comes to a halt. No time will pass until he is revived.

Sqq gets dragged through stories and universes by the system, trying to wrack up the 10,000 points needed. It takes a long time. Far too long. He plays too many roles, spends too years unable to truly settle, goes through so much it all starts to blur together.

Seeing this, an unsatisfying, boring ending without closure getting ever more likely as Sqq continues to fail to remember why he's doing it, the system releases lqg, sqh and the ghost of lbh from the stasis of their world and sends them after him. As the only one with any real understanding of the situation, sqh takes the lead. After chasing his footprints through a handful of worlds (that sqh can sort of recognise, and he adapts rapidly) they are finally find him. But he can't recognise them. He's seen too much, been too much, hidden himself away in more and more layers, not wanting to think if anything outside of the immediate problems. He can only recall the reason he set out in the vaguest terms, deflecting and outright interrupting when pressed.

So lbh manages to pull them into sqq's psyche.

From there, it's like a really big, five dimensional onion. Each role Sqq has taken solidified into another barrier between him and the worlds he was forced to live in and lose in rapid succession. Nothing, individually compared to the world of pidw, but added up they're quite the defence. Inside each layer is a false Sqq hidden in the crowd wearing someone else's face, and an item or location important to that version of him that'll take them through to the next layer.

Each time, they find another thread to the peak lord they lost. Another habit, or memory, or trivia comes back to life. It gets easier and easier to identify him no matter the body he wears. They share stories about him during rests, or moments of travel, to help the others identify him too. They kinda sorta maybe bond.

Then, finally, after a world of zombies and inter sect wars, they find a mimicry of qjp, and Sqq at the table. He's confused but delighted to see them. Even sqh gets hugged. He's shaken at their story, but over the moon at finally reaching 10k points and more than ready to return to reality.

Congratulations! The system says, and offers them their return to the real qjp, with the points needed to save lbh and with it, the world.

Lbhs eager hand on the yes button is clamped in a vice grip.

Sqh is looking at Sqq. Sqq furrows his brows in confusion.

Every transmigrator can see the system. As such, every version of Sqq can see the system.

However.

To the outside world, there is no system. There cannot be a system. To play their role, a transmigrator pretends to not have a system. They do not see a system, they do not hear it, there is nothing there. They play as a native.

This shen qingqiu cannot see the system.

He too is a role.

Lbh presses decline.

They search the house. Fake Sqq, User 002, lets them with mild befuddlement.

In the bedroom, over the bed, they find the rip.

There is a glowing city of glass, a thousand people of every shape and size on the streets. Thousand more race past in cars and buses and trains. By the nature of the dreams, their appearance does not stand out, and they've learned quick how to adapt from the crowd.

They have no clue how to identify him, but for the hundreds of variations they've met. They know his tics, his stance, the way he words his sentences. The way he frowns when confused. By now, they would know him blind and deaf - and they're going to need to.

They split up. They meet back up when the sun starts to go down. Cultivators can work without rest, and they're all highly levelled. They keep searching, unwilling to give up, but they've been doing it for a while, not wanting to pause at the last stretch. They're tired, stressed and jittery from the flashing neon lights and constant roaring sounds and unmoving smog.

A man walks past at 2 in the morning with a luo binghe phone case. A luo binghe key chain. A luo binghe lock screen identifiable from ten paces.

Airplane feels it would be justifiable to punch him.

But he recognises them on sight. Probably. He seems (entirely bro platonically) entranced by his xianxia husband, so it's hard to say.

Congratulations, congratulations congratulations! The system says. Good things should be said three times!

The man startles.

Ten thousand points, lqg says, grabbing him by the wrist. Let's go.

The system doesn't break them out this time. Instead, they treck back to his apartment, where his bedroom computer is the only light.

FIN, it says, and underneath a blinking cursor in an empty comment box.

In the computer, shen yuan says, with the certainty of a dreaming mind.

In the computer?

In the computer, he confirms, shoving sqh forward. The computer is the rip. Aight, sqh says, and reverse girl-from-the-ring's himself back to reality.

He lay on a bed. Looking up: a white, gauzy canopy hung overhead, with finely crafted perfume pouches hanging from the four corners. Looking down: he wore a green robe of an ancient style. Next to the pillow lay a paper fan. Looking to his left: three handsome young men, also in that ancient style.

The one closest to him burst into tears and kissed him full on the lips.

[lindsay00000008]

Ghost x Fem!Reader

DownBad!Simon Ghost Riley x JustAFriend!Reader

Part 2 (Prev)

CW: suggestive fluff, bad jokes, boners, reader is willfully dumb, author doesn’t know where this story is going but wants to write more parts anyway, first cod fic actually send help, is he smiling too much? Idk, happy ghost I guess

“Well that… that is not a book.”

Ghost’s eyes lock onto yours, too close for comfort. Your whole body flushes, and your stomach dips. This situation is way out of hand. His breath huffs and his body tenses, and your skin tingles with the charge in the air — the playfight isn’t over.

You do the only thing you can think of. You wriggle your arm between the two of you and cover his mouth with your palm, using his surprise to smoosh his face away from yours and twisting your body to the side. Both of you roll off the couch and onto the floor. You’re on top, and ready to break away, to end the fight with a handshake and burning cheeks.

But you gasp as his legs come up and around your hips, and his arms catch your torso and head, bringing you into his hips like a tree to a bear.

“Simon!” you yelp, though it sounds more like Fimom, the word getting lost in his meaty shoulder. His hold is gentle but stiff, and it’s impossible to go anywhere. You shift your body, feeling like you’ve been gift-wrapped by a professional knot-maker. “Mmph…” you give up and let your body relax on top of his.

After a few moments of heavy silence he sighs and relaxes his grip.

“Mmm,” he purrs. “This is nice…”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up as he finally allows you to move.

“If you wanted a cuddle you could’ve just asked,” you tell him, rolling off him to land on your back.

“I meant the roughhousing,” he deadpans, turning his head to watch you.

“Oh, of course. My mistake,” you quip back. Then you remember the box on the floor and jolt upright, stuffing the contents back in before stumbling to your feet and heading to your room, your shoulder tensed for a possible pounce. But it seems playtime is over, and you make it to your room without a fuss. You toss the small box on your bed, then change your mind and put it in a drawer instead.

When you return, Simon is in the kitchen, peeling the dry outer layers away from an onion.

“You can just cut it in half and it’d be easier to get those bits off,” you tell him.

“It’s not clean,” he retorts.

“You’re worried about a little dirt?”

“No,” he doesn’t elaborate, but keeps peeling it anyway. You settle into his side and smile, taking the skin off a second onion. How silly, that this man cares so much for grocery store germs, when he probably had days at a time in the field where he couldn’t even wash his hands?

When he finishes peeling his onion, he washes his hands again, and even rinses the onion, before grabbing the knife. You follow the routine, not wanting to gross him out or overstep. You guess it may be an overcorrection, him trying to be as clean as possible when he can. You just don’t remember seeing these tendencies when he’s made food for himself, those times you came over after your own early dinner. In fact, this may be the first time he’s cooked for you.

“You want to become God, then?” You joke, feeling a bit lame.

“What?”

“Cleanliness. Close to godliness.”

He shrugs. “You deserve a clean onion.”

That’s makes you snicker. “You must think so highly of me. Odd, considering you’ve seen the kind of messes I make when I cook for you.”

He smiles at that. You’re thinking of the time you accidentally heated up soup in a soapy pot. Simon had half of his bowl before you took a bite, only commenting that he must have that rogue cilantro gene. But he could be thinking of one of the many other food mishaps that occurred under your hospitality.

As he chops, you bend down and pat his leg to scooch, so you can access the cabinets beneath him. He tilts his hips and steps away — but not before you notice the bulge tightly packed behind his zipper. As you nonchalantly grab the glass bowl and pan you need, your head spins. Is this some odd side effect of cutting onions? Your eyes sting, you cry, you pop a boner…

Or was it because he just had your body under him, atop him, picturing you using your recent delivery…?

No. It’s not you he’s reacting to, he’s just a guy. He just got a little excited, got his blood pumping for a play fight with his bestie. That’s normal. But you can’t help thinking how you have this giant, manly — sexual man in your kitchen. How you ever managed to disregard that fact in the first place.

You’ve stalled after placing the pan on the stove, and you don’t realize until a handful of minced onion hits the pan in front of you.

“Oh wait, the oil,” you tell him, looking up at his face. He looks concerned for you, and maybe a little warm himself, a pink flush on his cheeks.

“Just poured some. You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah… Water?”

He grunts his confirmation. You open the fridge to find the filter empty. You sigh.

“Beer?”

“Beer.”

(Next)

[gffa]

THIS PORTRAYAL OF BRUCE IS SO GOOD--he snoops through Dick’s journal and creates a Robin suit based off Dick’s ideas, he intends it as a good thing, that he wanted to honor Dick’s parents’ memory and Dick’s love for them, he wanted to give him a surprise gift, and Alfred’s right, he was trying to connect. But it was still a massive invasion of privacy and Dick’s a kid who really needs those boundaries respected, he needs a place to vent that his paranoid guardian-slash-potential-father-figure won’t read everything he says, and as much as Alfred tries to gently defend Bruce, he also got the kid a journal with a lock on it to make a point. But more than that, Bruce apologizes.  He fucks up, he’s got a giant truckload of trauma in that fucked up head of his and he has no idea how to connect with someone in a healthy way, but Dick’s a kid, it’s not on him to understand that, Bruce is the adult here, and he has to work to be better.  And he does. This is where I live with Bruce, where he makes mistakes that genuinely hurt people, but he does it because he genuinely cares and because he is such shit at connecting with people in healthy ways.  He apologizes, even when it has to hurt that he was trying to do something good, because other people’s pain does matter to him, even through the five million layer deep onion of trauma and pain that is that guy’s mind. This is why I defend Bruce as a pretty good dad in comics, because he loves his kids, because he keeps working to get better when he fucks up, and he genuinely wants Dick to honor his parents’ memory, he wants Dick to have something that means something to him, he wants Dick to be safe, he wants to connect with Dick, not just train him.  Bruce has never isolated because he doesn’t like other people, he isolates because he cares so much about them and it threatens to destroy him, but he still keeps getting back up and still reaches out and that’s why so many people are ride or die for Bruce Wayne, because he can be an asshole, they’re not obligated to forgive him, but they do because they know him, they know he keeps trying to do better and keeps trying to connect, even though he’s so bad at it. Anyway, I am EMOTIONAL about Bruce making a Robin suit for Dick based on his private designs, like what a creeper, but also what an amazing emotionally stunted dad, I LOVE HIM ALMOST AS MUCH AS HE LOVES HIS KIDS.

[persphonesorchid]

Auburn Skies - MYG

Summary:  Everyone knows that if your best friend has a little sister, she's off limits. That, and the fact that your best friend will probably kill you if you even think about going near his sister. Yoongi knows this. There's no way he could tell Namjoon that once upon a time you kissed him, drunk in his living room after a break up. So much time's passed since then, too much time to bring it up now, but Yoongi still thinks about it, he's still a little hopeful. Now you're here at the lake house because Namjoon brought you and you clearly have something you want to say to Yoongi. 

Namjoon's gonna kill him.

Genre: 18+, fluff, angst, humor.

Word count: 12k

Warning(s): 18+, smut, oral (m+f receiving) unprotected sex, porn is mentioned. Yoongi and Y/n are BOTH stupid and they need help. Taehyung's trying his best, Seokjin is also trying his best but subtler. Yoongi's convinced that Namjoon's out to get him at every turn. Slight jealousy. Y/n and Yoongi have no idea how to actually hold a conversation like adults, until they do.

Notes: My addition to the Autumn Leaves Collab, hosted by the beautiful @bangtansmauyeondan !! I had so much fun working on this, and I met so many beautiful people that I'm so grateful for, so happy to call my friends 🥺 I love y'all! Please check out the other authors' fics on the Collab Masterlist! Everyone worked so hard, give my girls some love! Shout out to @blog-name-idk and @xpeachesncream for being absolute aNGELS, beta reading and helping me out when I panicked over this lol, and @madbutgloriouspond for helping me brainstorm. I hope you guys enjoy!! Please leave feedback, I'm nothing but a poor soul seeking validation (and motivation!) to keep going.

If you like my content, please, consider donating if you're able - Here

"You're staring." Seokjin nudges Yoongi's arm with his, snapping him out of his daze. He catches Seokjin's smirk, and there's a twinkle in his eye that promises nothing good. Yoongi pulls his eyes away from your form, sitting in a chair on the dock away from everyone else with a book in your hand. You're bundled up in a thick sweater and cozy sweatpants, completely lost in your book.

"Was not." Yoongi feels the need to deny it, distracting himself with cutting up onions, focusing on the way the blade of the knife cuts through the vegetable and definitely not the way Seokjin was wiggling his eyebrows at him.

"Sure. I believe you."

Somewhere inside, there is music playing. A Lo-Fi beat that plays softly under the sound of rain. It's kind of sad, if Yoongi is being honest, but he supposes that autumn is a sad season. Nothing but changes all around. The leaves change colours, mixing like paint on an easel in the hands of a melancholy artist drowning in his own solitude. They shift and the vibrancy of summer fades until they die, falling off their homes to go drifting in the wind, or land on the ground to become everyone's problem.

He doesn't really like autumn, when winter is right around the corner and he can feel the cold seeping into his bones no matter how many layers he wears. Always leaving his cheeks and his nose red, and his fingers hurting when the chill gets to them.

You enjoy it though, even reminded him when he picked up you and Namjoon this morning. You were kicking at the pile of leaves in front of Namjoon's apartment complex like a kid, laughing like you didn't have a worry in the world. You greeted him like you hadn't seen him in years, running up to him with Namjoon's scarf wrapped awkwardly around your neck like you were in a rush.

Namjoon is currently skipping stones with Jungkook near the lake's edge, and Yoongi can see he's halfway to giving up because Jungkook is on his competitive streak again.

Namjoon is one of his closest friends. He met him in college when they were both fresh out of highschool and riding on shotgun dreams of being more than what they are. He remembers meeting you during spring break of his junior year, and you were blabbering about getting accepted into the same college as Namjoon; determined to follow your brother to the end of time.

The only word to describe your first meeting was awkward, to say the least. He'd only ever heard of you, with Namjoon going off about you whenever Yoongi lent his ear. His baby sister who was doing so well in school, his baby sister, who to Namjoon, practically hung the moon in the sky. Now, Yoongi thinks he's naturally awkward when meeting new people, he can't help it. Getting to know someone is hard no matter how much you hear about them, even though you've got a pretty good impression just by word of mouth. There were shy 'hi's' and the most soul crushing 'See you later's' when there's little to no chance of ever seeing that person again. Sweaty, nervous hands meeting in shakes and straight lipped smiles.

Now, Yoongi was sure he wasn't too bad at it. And you were good, smiling brightly, not looking as awkward as he felt. What was awkward was the way Namjoon had excused himself to his parent's kitchen, pretending to get a glass of water. Yoongi had followed him with his eyes, because why was he leaving him standing in front of his sister alone?

Yoongi still remembers the chill that went down his spine that morning, as Namjoon watched him dead in the eyes over your head. A look Yoongi had never once received from him before, one that simply said: "If you think anything about my sister that isn't innocent; you will die."

As a best friend, Yoongi respected that. As a man, Yoongi valued his life. He wouldn't dare. It's the code, do not, under any circumstances, think about your best friend's sister romantically or less. You were off limits from the day Namjoon showed Yoongi that picture of you.

Off limits.

Yoongi heard that loud and clear and Namjoon hadn't said a word that day.

You were off limits, still, when you'd called him at ass o'clock in the morning - not Namjoon, your brother who trusted with everything - about some smarmy asshole who thought it was funny to break your heart. When he picked you up outside a bar where you were supposed to meet your boyfriend of a year, standing in the rain, soaked to the bone, crying and slightly drunk.

Looking beautiful even when you had stumbled your way to his car, asking what did you do to deserve getting cheated on. He didn't answer you then, he had too much to say and it wasn't the time, not when you were drunk and wouldn't remember a thing when the sun came up. So he cranked up the heat in his car, and white knuckled the steering wheel the whole drive to his apartment, because yours was too far and it was late.

Off the whole damn table, when you'd kissed him on the mouth, still drunk, still crying and clinging onto him in his living room. He pushed you gently away, even as he licked his lips to chase the taste of you. Keeping the distance between you both wide as he watched you shatter like glass in his hold. You apologized through your sobs, and Yoongi's own heart broke as he tried and failed to pick up the pieces of yours scattered at your feet.

You asked him not to tell Namjoon, and Yoongi never said a damn word. You slept in his bed that night, in his clothes that were way too big for you, and left the next day like nothing happened.

You're still off limits now, even as you've grown up and are going into your senior year. Now that Yoongi finished college and had a job like a responsible adult, now his biggest worry is the price of bread climbing up and whatever the hell was on the news.

"Namjoon, we agreed that you weren't gonna come within 10ft of this space."

Yoongi looks up to find Namjoon wandering aimlessly towards them, holding a bowl of something in his hand. He stops dead in his tracks though, frowning, "I'm not that clumsy."

Yoongi and Seokjin share a look, before raising an eyebrow each at Namjoon. He sighs, lifting the bowl in his hand, "Hobi told me to tell you that Jungkook told him..."

"For Christ's sake..." Seokjin sighs, "Just get over here."

Namjoon grins like a kid, hobbling over to place the bowl next to Yoongi's busy hands. The bowl filled with slices of pork belly that Yoongi forgot he told Namjoon to fetch for him a long while ago. Too distracted to ask about it when he was skipping stones with Jungkook, he didn't even notice when he'd moved to get it.

He wonders what else he missed, lost in his own thoughts, and his eyes dart around to catch sight of you. Of course, you were no longer in the spot you'd claimed, now standing next to Jungkook. Both of you are laughing at Jimin, who was struggling to reach a branch of a tree that Jungkook could easily reach without stretching. You attempt it, jumping to reach, but you just don't make it and it's Jimin's turn to laugh, all crescent eyes and round cheeks.

At least someone's having fun.

Seokjin was mumbling something as he pokes at the coals in the grill, and Yoongi avoids looking at Namjoon because he realised he's staring again. He's awfully quiet, and Yoongi isn't sure if it's because of him, and he really doesn't want to risk his life here.

"'Autumn is the season that teaches us that change can be beautiful.'" Namjoon says, and Yoongi finds that he wasn't even looking his way. Instead, he was watching the lake with an odd look in his eyes, distant, like if he was thinking about something too hard and struggling to grasp it. At the same time though, he looked like he knew exactly what he was talking about; smiling to himself. He pats Yoongi cryptically on the back - a little forcefully - catching him off guard, and says nothing more as he walks away.

"We all know what it means when Joon starts quoting." Seokjin snickers, "You're so screwed."

Yoongi hums, and Seokjin gives him a knowing look, a look that says way more than what Yoongi is comfortable with, and he wonders, briefly, if he was being obvious, or if Seokjin was more observant than he gave him credit for.

"I hope the weather holds up." Seokjin mumbles, head tilted up and leaning slightly forward over the table to see past the awning above, he watches the sky with a small frown, "Said it was gonna rain sometime today."

Yoongi is grateful for the subject change, dumping the seasoning he chopped up into a bowl. He glances at the lake, at the reflection of the clouds on the water, they look a little gray with the promise of rain. He doesn't mind the rain, though, if it does, Taehyung's plan of sitting around the fire with marshmallows on a wire would be completely dashed.

Yoongi's not sure he could deal with the kid pouting all night because of it, and he hoped that the weather held up, too.

When lunch was ready, it was a little after two pm. The picnic table was clear of leaves that were raked to the side and into piles to deal with later. Hoseok finally crawled out of the bunk room, hair sticking up in odd angles and eyes sleepy still as he helped set the table with you and Jimin.

Yoongi walks over to the table with the small cooler he'd brought with him, packed full with ice and cans of beer, because what's lunch without it?

Seokjin walks behind, still prattling on about the weather, hoping for a little sunshine later on so he could get in the rowboat and swing his fishing rod around. He may have asked Yoongi if he wanted to come with him, but Yoongi was once again distracted; your soft laugh tunnelling his focus.

He sighs, internally, because God forbid anyone hears and starts asking invasive questions. Taehyung, of course, was clinging to you, not letting you move two spaces out of his orbit. Which of course, wasn't strange, Taehyung was just clingy that way; always stuck to someone like a kitten that hasn't yet learned to regulate its temperature.

The sight of it though, makes Yoongi's chest ache in a way that wasn't unfamiliar to him. The kind of ache that squeezes tight and knocks the air out of him, the ache he felt that night in his apartment living room when you kissed him. Thinking about it now makes the ache worse, because Yoongi knows what that kiss was, he knows what it meant and exactly where it came from. You were reeling that night, fresh out of a relationship that ended in a way you never saw coming, and that's where it came from. You were drunk, hurting, and attached yourself emotionally to the first person to treat you nicely.

It just happened to be Yoongi at the time.

He hates to think about it that way, as though it meant nothing when he wanted it to mean something. Yoongi likes to take things the way they came, there's nothing more than what it was, nothing to decipher or to sit and mull over. Not like he did that night, sitting up late on his couch, long after you'd passed out, then beating himself up about the whole thing because he was this close to laying his heart out at that moment.

He's glad he didn't. When you left the morning after, he wasn't even awake, woke up to his empty bed and quiet apartment. No note, no text - not that you owed him anything - so he left it as it was; unspoken.

He passes everyone a beer, avoiding your gaze when your hand brushes his, ignoring the soft smile on your lips that brightens your eyes and makes his chest hurt. He moves around the table and takes his seat in between Seokjin and Hoseok. He's sitting directly across from you, and to his rotten luck, Namjoon sits to your left, which puts Yoongi within his direct line of sight. He wonders if he'll be able to keep his eyes to himself, not get caught staring at you, even if your brother wasn't even paying him mind. Yoongi is cautious, still.

The chatter that fills the air is gentle, with laughs and catching up with each other. It was hard to find the time to do things like this, everyone was busy with their own schedules; the younger ones had school, the rest of them had work. Shit always get in the way.

Yoongi eyes Taehyung, who sits to your right and was poking at your arm more than he was eating. He had half a mind to tell Taehyung to quit it, the little devil on his shoulder telling him that he should; poking at his cheek and pointing. It isn't his place, though.

There's a twinkle in Taehyung's eye when their eyes meet, something mischievous that Yoongi would normally see from him when he was up to something. He turns slightly to you, whispering something to you with a hand covering the movement of his lips.

Yoongi's curious, he wonders what he's saying that makes your cheeks flush a pretty shade. Wonders what it is, when your eyes meet his for a second and you swat at Taehyung's hand. The younger man was clearly pleased with himself, smiling eyes meeting Yoongi's for a second too long, and Yoongi busies himself with stuffing his mouth with food.

"Think the water's cold?" Jungkook was looking out at the lake, doe eyes curious, his tongue absently fiddling with the ring in his lip.

"It's still early in the season..." Jimin answers, piling a spoonful of rice onto his plate, following Jungkook's gaze a moment after. "Wouldn't risk it though."

"I mean, you can if you want." Yoongi shrugs, "Just don't complain when you catch a cold."

Jungkook pouts, leaning his weight against Hoseok with a groan. Everyone knows Jungkook well enough to know that's exactly what he'd do, and then abuse his position as the youngest for the rest of their stay at the lake house.

The table was silent for a while, everyone occupied with stuffing their faces with the food, interrupted when Namjoon laughed at something Jimin said and choked on the rice in his mouth and is now nursing a bottle of water.

Yoongi missed this, just hanging out with his friends like they were back in college sneaking beer into the dorms and laughing over their drunken rambles. Just being.

Once lunch was over, they cleared the table of the bowls and plates, carrying everything inside to be washed up.

"I'll do the dishes," Hoseok says, balancing the large pot with plates and eating utensils in his hands.

"I'll do them, Hobi." Yoongi takes the pot from Hoseok's lax fingers, not giving him room to complain before he takes everything to the kitchen.

Yoongi misses the way Taehyung pokes your side, he did hear the smack of you hitting the offending limb, though. "I'll help you."

Yoongi feels his shoulders tense, and he tries to ignore it, setting the pot into the sink, while the boys place the other dirty dishes. He watches you for a moment, as you busy yourself packing away the seasoning and packets of spices back into their rightful places. He starts on the dishes, hyper aware of your presence somewhere behind him, but tries his best to keep it as far from the front of his mind as he could.

At some point, you switch places, and Yoongi takes up the task of drying the bowls and plates, packing them where they're supposed to be. He doesn't question it, just grateful to have something to do with his hands, mindful, to keep his head empty, because if his mind strays just a bit, he'll be thinking of things he really shouldn't. Off limit things. Like how he wished he'd just suck it up and kissed you back that night instead of pushing you away like he did. But, that would've been wrong of him, no? It wasn't the time and you weren't in the right frame of mind.

Yoongi skirts by you, packing the bowls back into the cupboard. This is awkward, maybe he should have let Hoseok do it when he said he would.

"Can I ask you something?" You suddenly ask, and Yoongi almost drops the bowl he's holding, not expecting you to speak because you've been so quiet. He glances over to the living room, where Namjoon and Jin are starting up a game of Mario Kart before he turns to look at you. Why does he always do that? It feels as though he's sneaking around for no reason whatsoever, always looking to make sure that Namjoon isn't looking at him.

"Uh, sure?" God, is it just him that's awkward? You look perfectly fine, elbow deep in soap water, scrubbing away at something in the sink, a small smile on your lips. Yoongi wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans, bringing them back up to stuff them into the pockets of his sweater. Play it cool, Min. "What's up?"

You turn your head, looking at him, and he swallows. The sink slowly drains, making that odd sucking noise as the water goes down and you look like you're struggling to grasp your words. There's a cute furrow between your brows, and Yoongi doesn't miss the way you bite your lip and look everywhere but at him.

Jin swears at Namjoon in rapid fire, in that way he does when he's got too much to say and not enough breath. Yoongi could see his arms flying up and swatting at Namjoon's shoulder, yelling about the blue shell he threw.

You take a breath, eyes settling somewhere above his head, clearly trying to block out Jin's racket, "Well...um..." You glance at him and look away, and Yoongi's just a little hopeful.

You look nervous, for once, wringing the life out of the dish towel in your hand as you press your lips together. There's a crease at your brow and Yoongi wonders what's bugging you. There were times when you'd freely spill your thoughts, up with him all ungodly hours just talking because that's what brother's best friends do, right? Offer comfort and a space to vent that isn't in the viewpoint of your sibling? He wonders what changed.

He knows though. It was that night, after that, things have been tense between you both, Yoongi just wishes it'd stop. He misses you texting him to tell him how your day went, or you constantly reminding him that he's way cooler than your older brother. He watches you now, if just to see you get even more flustered, even though he didn't know why.

Hope is an evil, never necessarily a good thing, if all it does is make you believe that something would work even though there's a slim chance that it actually would. Yoongi hates that he's hopeful right now. Hates that he's hoping that the flush of your cheeks and your nervous fidgeting has something to do with him, he hates that he wished you'd just spit it out already and stop his mind from coming up with all these things.

"Okay." You sigh, nodding more to yourself in a self-assured kind of way. Your eyes find his, briefly, before darting away, "Okay, so, I wanted to-"

"Hey, Y/n. Wanna play a round of Mario Kart with me?" Taehyung asks, walking into the kitchen with a smile, eyes filtering between you and Yoongi before they settle on you again. He pauses when you snap your mouth shut, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and slowly look at him. You and Taehyung share a look that Yoongi's not too certain he wants to know what's about; the silence between you three is too loud.

"What?" the younger man asks, "Did I interrupt something?"

"No."

"Yes."

Yoongi stares at Taehyung, trying his hardest not to glare at him, because what you wanted to say was clearly important. You were staring at him, Yoongi could feel it, but he's giving you an opening to say what you need to.

"No, Tae, you didn't. I'll play." You smile a little forcefully, finally giving the dishcloth a break and laying it down on the island counter. "I'll tell you later?" You tilt your head at Yoongi and he can only nod, hopeful again, that you really would and not find an easy out.

"Okay."

"Tae, can't we do this later or something?" You frown, speaking lowly as he wraps his arm with yours and drags you away, "I was actually really close this time."

"Yeah, no. You looked like you needed saving. So you're welcome." Taehyung shakes his head, curls swaying, "One day, little butterfly, you'll be free to spill your feelings." He sits you down on the couch next to Namjoon, who thankfully, has his earphones in his ears. Jin had already wandered off to do God knows after his defeat, leaving your brother to fiddle mindlessly with his phone.

You can hear Yoongi moving around in the kitchen, probably still packing away the dishes. Taehyung plops next to you, throwing his legs over yours and almost knocking Namjoon's phone out his hands. He starts up the game after passing you a remote, smiling at you, "He'll probably come over here to watch the game, so I'll lose and he could play against you, yeah?"

"Tae..." You groan, tilting your head back, and he pats your arm in a friendly manner, though a little firm in his delivery.

"If you don't tell him now that's fine..." He points at Namjoon with a tilt of his chin, trying to remind you of your brother's presence without being obvious. "But at least you could spend time with him. Never know what could happen." He wiggles his eyebrows.

Evidently, Taehyung's the only person who knows about that night with Yoongi. He was the one who picked you up from his apartment after all, firing question after question and not giving you room to breathe. Though he was a tad upset that he wasn't your first call when you were stranded, he understood why you'd called Yoongi. At the same time, he gave you an earful about just leaving the man hanging after you kissed him. Something you shouldn't have done in that moment, lord knows what Yoongi thinks of you now.

You've tried and failed so many times to tell Yoongi that you weren't as drunk as you seemed that night three months ago, you knew what you were doing. You were hurt, yes, but it was more out of realisation. Your relationship with your ex had been rocky at best, you'd given into his advances to hopefully put your crush on Yoongi behind you. It was easy at first, to have someone to put your focus on and give yourself to rather than to waste it on someone who didn't see you the way you saw him.

Yoongi has always seen you as his best friend's sister, nothing more. And you'd kissed him that night hoping that even for a second he'd realise, but he pushed you away and you knew there was no use hoping.

Even now, embarrassment still burns at your chest when you think about it, because what were you thinking? You'd left without saying anything to him because you were positively mortified. There were hundreds of unfinished texts that started and ended the same, with you contemplating if you should tell him or not.

More often than not, a tipsy night would find you huddled under your sheets with your finger hovering over Yoongi's contact.

It was more likely that he still saw you as the fresh out of highschool kid who followed him and your brother everywhere.

You groan loudly at your own thoughts, and Taehyung turns his head, looking between you and the TV screen, "Uh....You can play Toad if you want.."

"Huh?" The choose your character screen is up, idle, waiting for you to move your joystick around. Taehyung's already picked, "No, it's not that. I don't even like Toad, you can play him."

"That's the rudest thing that's ever come out of your mouth." Taehyung pokes your side with a finger, "What's on your mind?"

"Everything." You sigh, scrolling around to pick a random character. Don't get it wrong, you love Mario Kart as much as the next guy, but right now your mind was far, far away from this moment and the game.

Taehyung pats your thigh, "Maybe losing will help." He snickers, just as the game starts up.

"Oh, you're on." You're not gonna lose, no matter how confident Taehyung is, no one could beat you at Mario Kart.

"Cheater! TaehYUNG. Joon tell Tae to stop do- You're cheating!"

"It's literally impossible to cheat at this game!"

Yoongi leans back against the island counter, content to watch you crash and burn as Taehyung wins yet another race. His victory laugh is deep, almost unheard under the sound of your indignant screeching. The rest of the boys gathered to see what you were yelling about, finding the sight of your losing streak more than entertaining.

Yoongi had paused only for a moment, making a light snack that everyone could enjoy if they wanted to, though, it was only an excuse to make your favourite. He watches as you scoot to the edge of the couch, he can't see your expression, but he doesn't doubt that you're pouting with the cute furrow of your brows that comes with your concentration.

"Namjoon." You whine to your brother, though Namjoon's hands fly up into the air, phone and all.

"Nope, leave me out of this."

"But he's cheating!"

"I'm not! You just suck."

Yoongi picks up the tray of Hotteok as soon as everyone calms down, carrying it over to the group. He rests the tray down on the coffee table, careful to move quickly so he doesn't block the screen for too long.

"Oh! Sweet! Thanks Yoongi." Namjoon is the first to move, leaning forward to grab one.

"Wait, Joon. They're ho-" Yoongi snaps his mouth shut as Namjoon has already picked it up. He promptly drops it, pulling air through his teeth before blowing on his fingertips.

"Ow." Namjoon pouts at his fingers, rubbing them against the material of his grey sweats.

Yoongi sighs, "Be careful, would you?" He focuses on the TV screen, you're directly behind Taehyung, throwing a blue shell that sends him skidding off the road just in time for you to cross the finish line.

"Ha!" You push at Taehyung's shoulder in your excitement, sending him against Namjoon, who drops his Hotteok on the floor.

Namjoon stares forlornly at the pancake for a quiet moment, while you do a victory wiggle in your place, his misfortune ignored.

"Well there you go, who wants to play?" Taehyung asks, glancing around the room. Jungkook waves his arm, getting up from his space on the floor by Hoseok's legs to totter over. "Yoongi! Nice of you to volunteer."

"What? I didn't...?" Yoongi stares at Taehyung like he's sprouted a second head.

Taehyung ignores him.

"Hey I wanted to play..." Jungkook whines, Taehyung ignores him, too.

"Guys, let's go take a nap in the bunk room." He stretches his long legs over Namjoon's, pulling him up by the arms and shares a look with Jungkook who was likely, as confused as everyone else.

"I'm not tired, though. I napped when I got here." Hoseok pipes up, pressing his lips together when Jimin not so subtly nudges his side with an elbow.

"Let's go take a nap." Taehyung repeats, eyes narrowing slightly at Hoseok. He relents under Taehyung's gaze, sighing as he stands and drags Jimin and a complaining Jungkook.

Taehyung smiles brightly, dropping his hands heavily on Yoongi's shoulders. Yoongi doesn't know what the kid's playing at, but allows him to direct him to sit next to you.

Yoongi shares a look with Seokjin, who shrugs and stands to leave too, linking his arm with Namjoon, "I found a book I think you'd like Joon. But we have to look for it, it's lost in my bedroom somewhere..."

"Oh...Kay? Sure."

Their voices trail off as they head up the stairs, and Taehyung waves as he backs out of the living room, with a sweet - suspicious - boxy smile."Have fun you two!"

"Okay what the hell." Yoongi mutters, turning his head to look at you. You didn't look his way, staring dead ahead at the TV, fingers tapping lightly at the control.

He hears you take a breath, "Wanna play Toad?"

"Uh...sure."

A few minutes go by before Yoongi could finally relax, getting comfortable on the couch focusing on the game and not the fact that you're less than a metre away from him. You're nibbling on a piece of hotteok, a little too quiet for Yoongi's liking. He was expecting you to be yelling because he's way ahead of you.

"So...can I ask you a question?" Yoongi keeps his eyes on the screen as he asks, afraid to look at you because he might slip up or stop all together. He could already hear the little voice in his head screaming at him to shut up. "I just wanna ask about...what you wanted to tell me in the kitchen?"

Yoongi doesn't normally pry, people's business are theirs and not his. But curiosity is driving him up a wall and he just needs to know. Maybe he was being foolishly hopeful again, thinking that whatever it was had something to do with him. That's why you hadn't said anything when Taehyung interrupted, right?

Yoongi wonders what Taehyung's deal was, first he was being too clingy with you - not that it's any of his business - and now he's acting so painfully obvious; trying to get you both in a room alone. It didn't go over Yoongi's head, as not a lot of things do.

He purposely lets you win the race, though, your victory was unsounded as you set the controller aside. "Right... kitchen..."

"You know you could tell me anything, right?" Yoongi says softly, fingers just wanting to reach for yours, if just to offer comfort. He tucks them against his palm though, and into the pouch of his sweater for an extra precaution.

"Yeah I know," You smile faintly, "like old times right?"

"Yeah exactly, and I won't judge, you know that. So whatever it is, just say it."

Maybe his words were a bit harsh? You stiffen a bit in place, sighing through your nose before you turn to look at him. The determination from earlier is back in your eyes again, and Yoongi finds it impossible to hold your gaze, and he's the first to look away this time. Keep it together, will you?

He feels heat climbing his neck, racing to each of his cheeks and he hopes to god you just think he's going pink because it's cold in here. Seokjin really needs to get that crappy heater fixed so Yoongi can blame something if you ask about it.

"Okay so remember the time when you-"

"You two are being awfully quiet." Seokjin pokes his head into the room, staring at you both, but not too long, before his eyes find the tv screen. "Oh, Yoongi, did you win?"

"No..." Yoongi sighs, watching as you shut him out once more.

"Really? It was so quiet..."

You make an offended sound in the back of your throat, straightening a bit to glare at Seokjin.

"Yoongi, can you help me with the firepit?"

Yoongi follows Seokjin outside along the wrap-around porch, the sun was halfway in its descent, painting the sky in a flurry of soft colours. The lake glistens with amber crystals, catching the sun's sleepy gaze as it drifts slowly off behind the hills; almost out of sight.

The sunken fire pit was in the backyard, something Yoongi helped Seokjin install last year. He's quite proud of it really, he did most of the heavy lifting while Seokjin stood around telling him how and where he wanted things like a glorified dictator.

As Seokjin gathers the firewood and steps down the three steps to throw the logs into the firepit, Yoongi realises that he didn't actually need any help.

"Watching you try to talk to Y/n is so painful. Like that time I broke my arm but worse."

"I actually wasn't doing the talking." Yoongi grumbles, enjoying the satisfying crunch of gravel under his sandals as he walks over to the cushioned semi circle bench and sits to watch Seokjin do all the work. "You have terrible timing."

Seokjin scoffs, shaking his head, "It's a wonder Namjoon hasn't figured it out yet...you're so obvious."

Yoongi feels like Seokjin just isn't listening to him, continuing his mission of getting the fire going; his words completely ignored.

"Joon is oblivious sometimes."

"You are too."

"Here, this one's longer."

Yoongi watches as Seokjin trades wires with Jungkook, patting him on the shoulder as the younger man happily sticks his marshmallow on the end of his wire. As usual when they're all together, there's laughter in the air, and the lightness Yoongi feels in his chest is something he misses when he's alone.

He watches the moon rise behind the trees, full and glowing brightly in the cloudless sky. The fire was warm, the burning wood crackling softly, sending little glowing sparks up into the air. Everyone had their own bag of marshmallows for toasting, with chocolate and biscuits for s'mores.

"This is nice," Hoseok comments, smacking Jimin's hand away from the smores he was setting up, tucking them into the corner of a small bowl he brought. Jimin gets one anyway; sneaking it away while Hoseok wasn't looking.

"Yeah, we haven't done this in forever." Namjoon sticks the wire with his marshmallow a little too close to the fire.

"It's gonna burn if you do it like that." Yoongi reaches over and raises Namjoon's hand higher.

"When it's burnt it's the best, though."

"Are you a sadist?" Taehyung frowns at Jungkook, "it's better when it's just a little toasty."

"It won't melt inside if you play kiss and tell with the fire. You gotta burn it." Jungkook's marshmallow was just on the edge of charred and Yoongi watches with mild disgust as he smushes the thing between pieces of chocolate and unsweetened biscuits. He shoves the entire thing in his mouth and closes his eyes, moaning around the treat like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

"Um? There's no way you're enjoying that." Hoseok didn't try to hide how he felt about it, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook. "Stop moaning like that!"

"I wasn't moaning!"

"Yes you were!"

Yoongi shakes his head, turning to look at you, who sat next to him, eating out of your own bag of marshmallows. The wire Seokjin had given you is still in your lap, untouched.

"Want me to make one for you?" He asks softly, already sticking a marshmallow on his wire. He hangs it over the fire and twirls it so it gets nice and brown, "Do you want it with the cookies?"

"Yeah, thanks." You smile sweetly at him, and Yoongi feels his heart stutter in his chest.

Once he's finished assembling the s'more, he hands it over to you. You take a bite out of it, and Yoongi struggles to breathe the very next second at the sound you make, turning his head swiftly to stare into the fire as though it would save him.

"Dude, Y/n. That's gotta be the best s'more ever created." Taehyung says, snickering from across the firepit, "Yoongi make me one, too!"

"You can make it yourself." Yoongi's cheeks flush, passing you a bottle of water when you choke.

"I wanna make happy noises, too."

When the fire in the pit smolders and the embers of the wood burn orange, everyone is ready to call it a night. The younger ones escape to the second floor bunk room first, Seokjin and Hoseok right behind them.

Hoseok is trying to convince Seokjin to flip a coin for the master bedroom while they go up the stairs.

"Owner's rights, Hobi."

"You have any idea what it's like to share a bathroom with those three? Have a heart!"

Their voices fade, and Yoongi is left standing in the entryway with you and Namjoon, feeling awkward and not quite sure what he should do with his hands. So he shoves them in the pockets of his sweatpants, and drags his feet towards the kitchen, suddenly thirsty.

You and Namjoon are talking in hushed tones, too quiet for him to hear, but he pays it no mind, it isn't his business, really.

You come in a second later, moving to the fridge just as Yoongi moves past you, and he's a little curious, a little worried, because you look a bit upset. There's a frown tugging at the corner of your mouth as you crack open a bottle of water.

"Everything okay?" Yoongi asks softly, fingers just itching to reach out for you, but he holds his own bottled water a little tighter instead.

"Yeah...Joon is just..." You shake your head, "Are you staying up to watch the movie with us?"

Your change of subject didn't surprise Yoongi, you've been doing that a lot today. He lifts his shoulder in a shrug, "I might...do you want me to?"

Yoongi would give you anything you ask for right now, hell, he'd find a way to pull the moon from the sky if you asked it of him.

"Huh?" Your eyes seems panicked for a second as they dart away to stare off elsewhere. "If you want to, it's up to you really."

"Then I'll watch." He gives an easy smile, "Are you sure you're okay?" He steps closer, a hand meeting your cheek gently, unintentionally and without Yoongi's consent. Simply out of his need to offer you comfort when he can, and maybe it's his wishful thinking, maybe it's that stupid thing called hope again; Yoongi swears you lean into his touch. Your skin is warm, like cooling tea on a winter's morning.

"I'm fine," You're staring at his lips as you say this, and Yoongi's heart skips before it gallops, threatening to burst from his chest. Maybe he's imagining it, but you move a step closer, and he does too, leaning down a bit to meet your height, "I just wanted to.."

Just another inch, if he moves just an inch closer. You're so close now that your exhales mingles with his in the space between you both, he could feel the chill seeping off the bottled water you hold, pressed against his stomach where your hands linger.

Yoongi decides he's not going to be awkward right now, he's going to be brave and just do this. He's going to kiss you and pour everything he feels into it, and hope - prays - that you feel it too.

"Ahem."

You and Yoongi both spring apart like teenagers caught doing something they shouldn't. Yoongi's cheeks are heating up too quickly for him to stop it, and yours are too, and he doesn't want to turn around because he knows who's behind him.

Think fast, Yoongi. Think.

"I hope your eye feels better. You should kiss - rinse! Rinse with warm water. 'Cause you know...germs...could uh.... get in there.... "

Really? Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, already anticipating his death when he turns to face the grim reaper behind him.

Namjoon stands in the kitchen doorway, eyebrow raised, doing that thing he does with his jaw. Yoongi feels a little faint, looking at the ugly painting Taehyung convinced Seokjin to buy and hang up in the living room over his head.

"Y/n had something in her eye and I was just checking." He looks back at you and you look just as confused as he's feeling, smiling though, as if his misery is funny to you. "R-remember. Warm water, okay?"

With that he leaves, not looking at Namjoon, who's gaze he could feel at the back of his head.

"Joon, are you serious?" Your voice was a harsh whisper, a little loud in the silence of the kitchen.

Yoongi walks away, hands in his pockets, not catching Namjoon's reply as he makes his escape. What the fuck was that?

"Let's watch The Conjuring."

"Fuck that." Hoseok puts his palms up, "Unless you're willing to cuddle me to sleep, we're not watching that movie."

A chorus of groans fills the room, "For the love of God, just pick something already. Not you, Jungkook."

"It's not my fault Hobi's a coward."

Hoseok's reaches over Seokjin to smack the back of Jungkook's head, who immediately retaliates by hitting Seokjin instead. The three of them trade playful smacks for a moment, while Taehyung and Jimin argue about which movie would be best to watch.

"Okay let's just all pick something." You say, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers, "Rock, paper, scissors, whoever wins; we'll watch."

Terrible idea really, everyone knows Jungkook is going to win.

Yoongi opts out, not really caring what goes up on the screen. He's sitting with his hands under his thighs, trying to keep them warm but at the same time, keeping them from doing something stupid. You're right next to him on the couch, he's once again hyper aware of your closeness, the way your arm would brush his every time you moved, the scent of your shampoo, soft and fruit scented.

He focuses on the way a single tear slips from Hoseok's eye, the way he tries to make himself as small as possible on the other couch next to Seokjin with a white knuckled grip on the latter's sweater. Jungkook triumphs in his endeavour of beating everyone who played against him, laughing, carefree and malicious as he pulls up The Conjuring.

Hoseok keeps his head tucked behind Seokjin's shoulder for most of the movie, clinging to him and jumping at every loud sound from the TV; poor guy's going through it.

Yoongi is just barely watching, staring at the screen, but not really following along - he has no idea what's going on. Mind too distracted with the fact that you chose to sit next to him and not next to anyone else. He's still reeling from the incident in the kitchen, glancing at Namjoon who was stuffing his face with popcorn, form outlined in the glow of the tv.

He could feel the warmth of your thigh through his sweatpants, and every little movement you'd make at the jumpscares and the loud sounds.

Hoseok dips halfway through, going up the darkened upstairs hallway with his phone torch on. Jungkook had the audacity to fall asleep, drooling on Seokjin's shoulder and mumbling unintelligible words; unbothered.

"I'm going to bed." Yoongi says to you, not really sleepy, but not interested in the movie enough to stay and watch. You grab at his hand and he pauses, "What?"

"You're leaving me here to suffer?"

"You're a big girl, you can take it." He shrugs, patting your hand before getting up. "Night guys."

Yoongi lays quietly in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a frown, unable to sleep. He turns his head, looking at the clock that blinks sleepily back at him and sighs, it's getting later into the night and sleep continues to evade him.

The house seemed to have quieted, the sound of Jimin and Taehyung arguing about who gets to use the upstairs bathroom first stopped a while ago, though, the stillness only allowed Yoongi's mind to wander off. He wonders if you're sleeping yet, he knows you have trouble sometimes, a common curse you both share.

He wonders about what you and Namjoon argued about, if it had anything to do with him. God he hopes not. The last thing he wants is for you and your brother to fall out because of him.

There's a soft knock on his door, quiet enough that he almost misses it. Just almost.

Yoongi gets out of bed, dragging his feet to the door. He isn't completely shocked to find you on the other side, looking like you're two seconds from walking away. Your hand still hovers, eyes impossibly big when they meet his in the soft light of the downstairs hallway.

"Hi." You say, softly, hand falling and gripping at the hem of a tee shirt he's sure belongs to Namjoon.

"...Hi?" Yoongi's brows furrow, not quite sure what you're doing knocking on his door at one in the morning, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wanted to talk to you..." He lets you shuffle into his room, and you walk over to the bed while he closes the door.

"What I wanted to tell you earlier..." You sit on his bed, a good distance away, enough to leave the space between you both cold and Yoongi longing for you to come closer. You seem to be struggling, staying quiet for a little too long.

"Hey." Yoongi calls, "Whatever it is, you can tell me, okay? You know I'd never judge you." He feels the need to repeat himself, just in case you need to hear it again.

"You will." You glance at him, bottom lip caught between your teeth, and you shake your head, "This was stupid..."

"Hey, hey." Yoongi grabs your wrist, stopping you from getting up. "How about I look over there?" He points at a random spot beside him with a thumb, "I won't look at you and you can just say it." He turns for good measure, staring at the wall on the far side of the room.

You're silent for a moment, a long moment that has Yoongi wondering. Maybe he should stop pestering you about it, bury his curiosity - his concern - in a box somewhere to forget about. He's been on your back about it for most of the day, granted, the universe apparently didn't want you to say anything, not with the way you were constantly interrupted every time you tried to talk about it. He should take that as a sign and drop it all together.

"You okay back there?" Yoongi asks softly, turning his head slightly, but not facing you.

"I wasn't really drunk." You say

Confused, Yoongi's brows furrow, "Huh?" He turns to face you, "What are you talking about?"

"The night you picked me up outside that bar." You're not looking at him, instead, you're looking down at your hands in your lap. The events of that night comes rushing to the front of Yoongi's mind, the way you kissed him, how soft your lips were.

"Wait, so..." Something in Yoongi's ears was buzzing, loud and distracting, as realization dawned, he feels a heat rising from his toes. "You-" he stands quickly from the bed, now that he knows exactly why you've been trying to say all day, he thinks he just might lose it.

"Why'd you leave without saying anything?" It's the first thing out of his mouth and Yoongi wishes he'd just shut up.

"I was embarrassed that I just kissed you out of nowhere like that. And you pushed me away, what else was I supposed to do?" You say in a rush, "I know you only see me as Namjoon's little sister."

"I don't." Yoongi says, and at your pause, his palms start to sweat, heart kicking against his ribcage. "Why did you kiss me that night?"

"You probably think it was because I was drunk. That wasn't it." You look him in the eye, "I wanted to."

Yoongi takes a breath and a moment to think carefully about what he's about to say, "Y/n." He runs his palms against his thighs, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "You were drunk. Just out of a relationship and you only kissed me because you were hurting, that's it."

"That's not-" You sigh loudly, pursing your lips and staring at the ceiling, "Do you even know why I dated that idiot? It's because you..." You trail off, picking at a loose thread on your t shirt.

Yoongi waits, giving you the moment you need to gather your words.

"I dated him so that I could forget you." You say softly, not looking at him, and Yoongi feels like he's buffering, like a frozen computer screen. Just standing there as he processes your words, it's taking a while to sink in, or they have, Yoongi is only trying to understand them. "I thought that dating him you would..."

Yoongi sighs, "Tell me something, yeah?"

You nod quietly, waiting. Yoongi watches you for a moment, he's more curious now, "How long?"

He watches as you fluster, eyes darting around to look at anywhere that isn't him. The way your fingers pinch at the dark sheets on the bed, you draw your bottom lip between your teeth and Yoongi just wants to kiss you. But as he's been doing all day, he gives you a moment; Yoongi is nothing but patient.

"Since we met?"

Is that a question? There Yoongi goes buffering again. He blinks a couple of times, mind going through the motions of his forced epiphany. The moments when you used to follow him and Namjoon around, all the staying up late texting as though you both were more than you were at the time.

"I really really like you and I tried to show you that night, but well..."

You get up from his bed with a sigh and step towards him and Yoongi tries his best not to take a step back, he allows you to reach him, to stand close enough for him to touch. He's panicking, on the inside, a voice in the back of his mind telling him that this is a terrible idea and that he should probably stop you.

He can't bring himself to, words stuck in his throat.

You're closer now, Yoongi could feel the warmth of you, and he swears this time that he'll be brave. So he kisses you first, fingers tangling in your hair, a hand gripping your waist to pull you even closer. He feels your hands against his chest as his eyes close, your lips are warm and as soft as he remembers, and he groans at the taste of you. His tongue finds yours, slowly, sliding against yours and he wants to savour this, commit your every sound to memory. Yoongi groans when your hands slide into his hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck.

He pulls back for air, lungs trying to take in as much air as possible, too quickly, he feels lightheaded. But that could just be because of you. He presses a fleeting kiss at the corner of your mouth, nose brushing against yours lightly. He's pretty sure this is what being high feels like, the rushing of his blood in his ears and the tingling at the tips of his fingers.

"You're gonna end me." Namjoon will too. The thought alone was enough to make Yoongi pause, realise the grip he had on your hips. One of his hands is just shy of the exposed skin under your tee shirt, hyper aware of the way your chest is pressed to his, your lips on his neck.

Namjoon is going to kill him.

He feels your teeth nip at the skin of his neck and he hisses between his teeth, your tongue follows. He pulls away, pushing you from him gently to take a couple steps back. He sees the question in your eyes, the soft furrow of your brows. He sighs through his nose, thinking about how much of a terrible idea this was, and how Namjoon would very likely drown him in the lake.

"Y/n...we can't." This was the reason he pushed you away the first time. Yoongi likes to think ahead, think about all the outcomes of a situation before he walks into it. This could go two ways, and Yoongi's mind can only focus on the worst scenario. What if this goes wrong? What if doing this now ruins everything, he'd not only lose you, but Namjoon as well.

He sees your pout and he looks away, wondering why he can't just let it happen and deal with the consequences later. But Yoongi isn't like that. He likes to sit and over think things.

"Is this about Namjoon?"

Yoongi startles at your question, jolting a bit as he drops his hands from your waist, fingers curling against his palm. He's not as good at hiding his thoughts as he presumed, or you just knew him too well for his own good. He answers your question with a silent nod, not meeting your eyes in the darkness of his room.

"Yoongi. He wouldn't care. Namjoon can't do anything, what I do isn't his business."

Yoongi goes to argue that that's not the point. You were so off the mark that he almost laughed, Namjoon wouldn't care what you thought. He wouldn't be able to look past Yoongi even thinking about touching you. So much for being brave.

You sigh, and Yoongi catches the hurt in the sound.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't push me away again, please." You reach for him and Yoongi doesn't stop you, because he can; he doesn't want to. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

"Are you sure?" He asks seriously, catching your wrist, ducking his head so that he could meet your eyes properly, "Tell me now that this is okay because when I start I won't stop."

You barely got to nod before Yoongi was kissing you again, pouring everything he had into it, hands moving down to grip at your ass in your cotton shorts. He takes careful steps, walking you backwards towards the bed.

"Just let me take care of you, yeah?" Yoongi gently pushes you back onto the bed, taking his time to strip you out of your clothes. Not letting his worries and doubts stop him from telling you how beautiful you are, or from kissing every inch of skin revealed to his eyes.

He kisses his way down your thighs once your shorts and panties are out of the way, stopping every now and then to nibble at the soft flesh. Your little sighs and moans are something he wants to record and keep with him forever, even though he wouldn't need them to remember.

He touches you lightly, just to tease, sliding his hands down your thighs, eyes locked on your glistening pussy. He wants to draw this out, ignoring your impatient whine and the rise of your hips at his touch. He's waited so long for this, wanting to taste you beyond the kiss you shared so long ago, Yoongi wants to make you beg. Reduce you to a mumbling mess of incoherent words, but at the same time, he too is impatient.

He shushes you gently at your call of his name, fingers parting your folds and watching the way your pussy clenches around nothing at his gaze. "So pretty, baby."

It was your only warning before he dove in, licking a board stripe from your engerance to your clit, focusing the tip of his tongue at the bundle of nerves. You suck in a sharp breath, hand tugging at his hair and it only spurs Yoongi on. He sucks gently in your clit, tongue moving in slow figures and dips a finger into your wet heat. He groans at the way your cunt just sucks him in, arousal dripping down his hand and he adds another, curling them against the soft spot within you.

He looks up at you, past your heaving chest to your fucked out face. Your parted lips, furrowed brows, glazed eyes looking back at him.

"Yoon--fuck."

Yoongi groans lowly in his throat, pressing his tongue flat against your clit, mouth flooding with your taste. He'd stay there forever if you gave him the chance, listening to the way your breath hitches and the sound of your moans and the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly. He drives his tongue inside you, and the whine that leaves you has him rutting his hips against the bed. He can't get enough of your taste, the way your pussy clenches he's around his fingers.

"You taste so good, baby." Yoongi loves the way you grip at his hair, the way you tug sends tingles down his spine. He thrusts two fingers inside you, crooking them right, hitting the spot that sends your moans into a higher octave. He can't be bothered with how loud you're being, or if anyone's awake right now and would know exactly what you're both up to. You don't seem to care either, too lost in the pleasure; moaning his name.

"F-fuck, right there," you whimper, thighs tensing around his head. Yoongi groans as he obeys, crooking his fingers and rubbing at the spot that makes you sing so sweetly. His lips never leave your clit, tongue swirling around the swollen nub in figure eights. Dragging his fingers within the tightness of your dripping heat, he could tell you're close, feeling the way your thighs tremble. "Fu-"

Your back arches off the sheets, and Yoongi moans when your release gushes out of you and into his mouth. He stays there and takes it all, until you push at him instead of pull and Yoongi lets up, running his hands up your sides in an attempt to soothe as you tremble in the after wave. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," you squeak out and Yoongi chuckles, getting up to sit back on his thighs. He watches you for a moment, watching the way your chest heaves with your every breath, your hair a tangled mess against his pillows. His eyes trail your form, down to the mess between your thighs that twitched at his attention.

"Sure? You good to go on?" He asks to be sure, squeezing your hip gently. You nod, reaching for him and he goes without complaint, caging you within his arms and kisses you slowly. His tongue tangles with yours, and he grinds his hips down against yours, seeking friction for his aching cock, dampening the front of his sweatpants.

"Fuck that feels so good." He groans, sucking bruises into the soft skin of your neck. He angles his hips so that the length of his cock rubs directly against your clit, shuddering, it feels so good and Yoongi can't stop. He slows down though, because he could feel his release racing down his spine. "Fuck, baby."

"Wanna..." You push at his shoulders, "Wanna suck your cock." Your hands are at the drawstrings of his sweatpants already, tugging, "Wanna taste you, too."

"Fuck, okay."

Yoongi gets off the bed to shuck off his sweats, cock springing free, red and pulsing, precum beading at the tip. He chuckles at your facial expression, eyes surprised even though your bottom lip is caught between your teeth. He notes the way your eyes follow the movement of his hand, he grips his cock and squeezes, thumb catching the translucent drop and dragging it down his shaft.

"You're big."

"Good for you, then?" He pumps his shaft slowly, whispering curses under his breath.

You roll your eyes, "It wouldn't have mattered if-"

"Shh." Yoongi shushes and crooks the fingers of his free hand at you, "Come here."

He leans down to grab a pillow behind you, pausing, "Where's comfortable for you?"

"Wherever you want me," you say sweetly, and it would've been cute with the way you smile, if it wasn't for the look in your eyes. For a moment Yoongi feels like he's in for way more than he bargained for, with you looking so pretty, alluring, like a succubus ready to siphon his soul. Such a far contrast from the you of earlier, fumbling with your words and flushing under his gaze.

"This isn't about me." Yoongi swallows, "Are you kneeling or do you wanna stay on the bed?"

"I'll stay here." You make yourself comfortable, propping up on your elbows, and Yoongi passes you the pillow to help you reach his hips in your position. You slide the pillow under your chest, already reaching for him before he steps closer and Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath when your smaller hand wraps around his cock.

You mirror his motions from before, pumping slowly and Yoongi's not sure if you're teasing him or not. Tongue snaking out to kitten lick at the head, you swirl it around before taking it into your mouth.

"Ah fuck." Yoongi throws his head back, a hand finding your hair as you take him slowly to the back of your throat. He feels your exhales against his tummy, just barely, his mind too muddled to focus on anything but the warmth of your throat and the wiggling of your tongue under his shaft. "You're doing so good, baby."

You hum a gurgle of a word Yoongi would probably never decipher, the vibrations around the head of his cock has him tugging lightly on your hair and pulling out and away from your mouth, breathing hard. He'd be damned if he comes so quickly, that shit will probably haunt him for the rest of his life.

There's a string of spit connecting your lips to his cock, and you smile like the minx you are, not letting him get far enough away before you're taking his cock into your mouth again, bobbing your head at a quick pace. Yoongi could cry, he's trying so hard, there's sweat dripping from his hair, you're pulling him closer, taking him deeper and his eyes roll back.

"Shit. Slow down." His words trail off in a moan, and he's unable to help the rolling of his hips, thrusting his cock into the warmth of your throat, gently, mindful of your breathing. You swallow and he swears, thighs tensing and he stops, pulling away again to release a stuttered exhale. Leaning down, he kisses you, licking into your mouth with haste, tasting himself on your tongue. "Wanna fuck you." He breathes against your lips, releasing your hair for you to scoot back up the bed.

He's quick to follow, slotting his hips between your thighs, stopping to map bruises against the skin of your chest. He laves his tongue over a nipple, fingers toying with the other, he takes the pebbled bud into his mouth just to hear you make a pretty sound.

"Yoongi." You whine his name, and Yoongi doesn't waste another second, hooking one of your knees over his elbow, other hand guiding his cock to your wet cunt. He stays there for a moment, tapping his cock against your clit just to watch you squirm. You raise your hips to meet his teasing thrusts and Yoongi chuckles, easing back to slowly drag his cock down your slit until it prods at your entrance.

He slowly presses into you, watching the way your pussy sucks him in, arousal coating his cock. "You're so fucking tight." Yoongi stills, gripping your hips, watching you through a lust filled haze. He thrusts shallowly into you until he bottoms out and stills, free hand squeezing your hip gently. He swipes his tongue over his thumb, pressing the digit against your clit to rub in slow circles, "Relax for me, baby."

When he feels your body relax around him, he moves, setting a slow pace to start, leaning down to slot his lips over yours, swallowing the sounds you made. You arms wrap around his neck, nails scraping red, angry lines at his shoulder blades. The pain only heightens the pleasure he feels, crossing his eyes and curling his toes.

"Fuck." Yoongi bites gently on your earlobe, "You're so good for me baby. So fucking good. Taking my cock so well."

He knows you're getting tired of his pace. You're lifting your hips to meet his thrust, moaning helplessly into his ears. "Want more, baby?" He leans back in time to catch your nod, kiss swollen bottom lip caught between your teeth. He grips your hips again, keeping you from moving, and slows down just to watch you squirm and beg for him.

"Ple-fuck. Jus-" your words cut off with a gasp, hands gripping Yoongi's wrists where he holds you. He sets a punishing pace, the sound of his thighs hitting your ass loud in the quiet of the room. "Oh F-fuck, Yoongi."

"This what you wanted, hmm?" He tilts his head at you, one eyebrow raised, sliding a hand up your sweat slicked skin to cup your jaw, you take his thumb into your mouth and Yoongi's cock pulses with the need for his release. He smirks, pressing his thumb down on your tongue, pace never faltering, his nerves are on the edge of frying, orgasm tingling at the end of his spine. Pulling his hand away from your mouth and presses his thumb against your clit, looking down at the way his ccok, covered in your arousal, disappears inside you.

Yoongi groans, the sound rumbling in his chest, feeling your pussy clenching around his cock, squeezing tight as your breath hitches. "Ah--fuck I'm gonna-"

"Yeah? Come for me, baby." As your body tenses and tremble, Yoongi chases his end, hips stuttering and he gasps, cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat as his release spills into you. "Oh fuck."

Head light and ears ringing, Yoongi kisses you, it's more tongue than anything else, but he doesn't care. He does his best to keep the full weight of him off you, peppering kisses along your jaw. He feels your every breath and his sweat cools on his skin, "You okay?"

There's sweat burning his eyes and he squints at you as you push his hair back and away from his face, you're smiling and giggling shyly. Like if he told you a joke and didn't just fuck you nine ways to hell. "I'm perfect."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, leaning back up again to carefully slip his softening cock out of your still pulsing walls. His release comes flowing out not two seconds after, he watches with his bottom lip between his teeth, cock giving an interested twitch.

Yoongi gets up before he starts something again, because he just might die trying to go through a second round so quickly. "Don't move, I'll be right back."

He looks around on the floor for where he left his sweatpants, he puts them on and shuffles quickly to the door. He only realises just how quiet it is now that it's quiet, he realises how loud the two of you were being.

He goes back to you with a warm, damp washrag, finding you close to falling asleep. He cleans you up anyway, mindful of your sensitivity.

When he's done he watches you for a moment, fingers finding yours first. Mindlessly he fiddles with them and reaches for his discarded shirt and passes it to you, releases your hand only for you to put it on. "We probably could've done this sooner." You say softly, smiling.

Yoongi tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "What? The sex or...?"

You lightly swat his arm, "You know what I mean."

"I do." Yoongi presses a kiss to your wrist, sighing when you gently lay that palm against his cheek. He believes that action speaks volumes and there's no need for words, but he realises that he hadn't said it back to you earlier. Though, he was very much distracted and his thoughts were absent. "I like you too...alot...just in case that wasn't clear."

He shifts on the bed to be closer to you and leans his head on your shoulder, "I'm sorry it took me so long. It takes me a while to come to terms with things. I overthink and make things harder for myself, I wasn't sure if this was the right way to go."

You hum softly, breath tickling his ears, "It's okay. I suck too. We could've avoided the run around if I'd just told you."

"Yeah, you're terrible. I had no idea what to do with your smoke signals." Yoongi raises his head, chuckling. Leaning over, he presses a kiss to your forehead and tilts your chin to kiss you softly. "Can I take you out? When we get back."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

Yoongi smiles, feeling like a kid and nudges you softly, "Go pee. I'll strip the sheets, go on."

He watches as you walk on wobbly legs till you reach the door and pause, turning your head to watch him with wide eyes, "you don't think they heard us, do you?"

"Nah, they're asleep."

"Dude, whoever was watching their porn so loudly last night, fuck you. Honestly, the lack of respect in this household."

It's the first thing Jimin says when he comes downstairs the next morning, looking like he'd slept on the wrong side of the bed. Eyes swollen as he takes the coffee Seokjin offers and the sympathetic pat to his shoulder.

Yoongi ignores the conversation, even though you looked like you were about to combust next to him. Seokjin was giving him a look from his spot by the stove, looking ridiculous in the pink apron he favoured.

"Yeah the walls are so thin in here it's wild." Seokjin wiggles his eyebrows at Yoongi and you choose that moment to choke on your sip of orange juice.

Taehyung pauses, fork halfway to his mouth with a strip of bacon hanging for dear life at the end of it. He looks between the both of you for a quiet moment, strong brows furrowed until something lights in his eyes. "Oh my god."

Jimin, who's slumping in his seat, looking like he wanted nothing more than to crawl his way back upstairs perks up at Taehyung's words, "What?"

Yoongi stares silently at Taehyung, daring him to open his big mouth and say exactly what he definitely wants to say.

"Nothing. Nothing...." Taehyung waves his hand with the fork, sending the piece of bacon flying off it and into his glass of orange juice. Jimin watches on with disgust as Taehyung fishes the piece out of the cup and tosses it into his mouth.

"The bin is right there."

"Are you drinking the juice?"

Yoongi runs circles into the skin of your knee, as Taehyung and Jimin bicker.

"Oh, Joon. Come eat." Seokjin wanders over to the entrance and Yoongi just barely catches the sight of Namjoon passing by, saying that he was going for a walk first. Hoseok and Jungkook enter just then, finding their spots at the table as Seokjin sets plates for them.

"I'll be right back." Yoongi says softly, pressing a kiss to your temple, leaving Jimin sputtering into his coffee. He pushes his chair back and stands, catching the way Hoseok squints at you.

He points, not saying anything before he leans around Taehyung to smack at Jimin's arm, "I told you so! You owe me fifty."

"Bold of you to assume I came here with money."

"You guys made a bet?" You ask, incredulous.

"Yeah. It's either someone was watching porn, or someone was getting it. You and Yoongi are the only ones not sharing a room..."

Hoseok voice fades as Yoongi shuts the front door behind him. It's cold, mist and dew clinging to the world and Yoongi regrets leaving his sweater in his room. He rubs his hands over his arms, the long sleeves of his t shirt barely keeping him warm.

Namjoon's already walking, a good distance from the house near the lake's edge. Yoongi takes his time walking over, gravel crunching under his feet, he slots his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

When he reaches Namjoon, the younger man is crouched down, cooing at something on the ground. There's a little crab scurrying around trying to get away from Namjoon's curious fingers.

"Just let the little guy be." Yoongi announces himself, "Thing's probably scared shitless."

"I just wanna pick him up, though," Namjoon continues to try, sighing when the little crab escapes into the lake. "Oh well.." He dusts his hands and stands up, finally looking over at Yoongi.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks, and remembering he's standing out in a tshirt and sweats, Yoongi shivers. Namjoon looks all cozy in his beige sweater and matching beanie.

"I wanted to run something by you." Yoongi says, looking out at the lake and the way the light of the morning sun glitters against the still waters. He shoves his cold hands into the pockets of his pants, rubbing his thumb over his curled fingers. He realised that this is going to be as hard as trying to talk to you, and Namjoon waits patiently, watching Yoongi with eyes that seemed to know too much.

"Uh.." Yoongi chances a look, glancing at Namjoon who's just as quiet as him, waiting. "Look man, Y/n and I had a talk last night."

"Right?" Namjoon gives him a look, a confused one, head tilting and all.

Yoongi takes a breath and decides to go headfirst, though he takes a step back from Namjoon to be sure. "I really like your sister and we talked about it and I just wanted you to know that."

The uncomfortable look that morphs Namjoon's features wasn't what Yoongi was expecting, especially since the look stays there for a while as Namjoon just stares at him. He raises a hand to scratch at his cheek, "Dude."

"What?"

"Are you saying that I owe Hoseok fifty dollars?"

"...Eh?" Yoongi's confused, and it feels as though he's spent this whole weekend running on pure confused energy. Namjoon shakes his head, laughing in a way that makes Yoongi take another step back.

"I know. You two are terrible at hiding shit." Namjoon points his thumb over his shoulder, back at the house where he glances. From where he stands, he could see Seokjin, Taehyung and Jimin peering out through the window. "I know my sister, and I know my best friend. You guys are adults, so, really, there's nothing I can do but watch it happen."

Namjoon shrugs, and Yoongi flushes, cheeks heating. "But when I met her...you...you gave me a look."

"I was trying to ask if you wanted water!"

"That was not a 'do you want water' look, Joon."

Namjoon reaches over and pats his shoulder softly, hand lingering, "You have my blessing, if that's what you came to ask for." He smiles, eyes disappearing, but Yoongi's relief is cut short when he tries to shift away, Namjoon's grip tightening. "Though, she's still my little sister. I know where you live."

Yoongi chuckles, a little scared.

"Good talk." Namjoon nods to himself, "I'm going inside. Get out of the cold!"

Tagging: @madbutgloriouspond @blog-name-idk @taestefully-in-luv @btsstan12 @hamsterclaw @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @doneimnida @here2bbtstrash

[highlandwhackamole]

A Grand(ish) Theory of What the Heck

I love the utterly unhinged, super detailed theories about what's going on in Good Omens, especially in season 2. I hope one or more of them turn out to be true, as some kind of glorious puzzle-box-hidden-code monstrosity. And also I think that there has to be a simpler explanation for things, for the people who are at least Somewhat Normal (tm) about this show. (... I assume such people do exist somewhere...) This is what I have been pondering recently.

The thing that started me thinking about this was this post, containing some promotional materials for season 2 that feature main characters with scenes in their heads. Like this:

Seeing this created a very similar situation in my own head, but with a nice shiny lightbulb.

All the weirdness: the car, the sideburns, the clock, the behavior of the folks of Soho, the vanishing storefront signs. The absence of God. I think this is all because everything we see is in their heads.

I don't mean it's made up. At least not entirely. Memory is already a plot point. Why not explore it on a deeper level? I've read theories emphasizing the minisodes' stories being retold by Aziraphale and Crowley. I think the whole season is like that.

You know that sort of conventional-wisdom-fact-concept that you can only dream faces of people you've seen before (or variations therein), because your brain can't make new faces up? So it just fills in what it thinks is close enough? I think that idea, applied to remembering or recollecting things, could explain so many things that are wonky in this show.

Wonky Things

Crowley parking in an impossible London location? He definitely remembers it was in London, so his brain just stuck some obvious London landmarks in there.

Awkward clattering happening when Crowley throws the stacks of books he's inexplicably carrying around the bookshop? He wouldn't actually throw Aziraphale's books! But he'd like to think he's cool and nonchalant enough to do that, and if he did it would definitely make Some Kind of Noise.

Jim walking toward the bookshop from somewhere mysterious? Maggie and Nina saw him first, and he came from that direction, so he must've walked all that way. They don't know about the elevator in the Donkey.

Aziraphale remembers tartan hills and the Loch Ness monster because he was having a jolly time driving through Scotland, so obviously the scenery must've been whimsical Scottish things.

Nina put the Honolulu roast sign up, so she remembers its presence, but perhaps the occult/ethereal visitors to her shop do not.

Maggie really did text Aziraphale about the rent, but a note through the mail slot is a much more dignified way for a scholarly angel to imagine he received a message.

On the Fallibility of Recall

This season is loaded with unrealistic inclusions. The colors are turned up to 11. Some of the scenes are more caricature than believable interaction. Remembering things never copies or reproduces them with what one might call high fidelity.

Scenes recalled by separate memories will inherently vary. One person's hefty jigger might be another person's dash. Who knows for sure where the sun was that day? You and I might recall an event having different lighting or a different color palette, sort of like viewing something with different lens filters.

According to Neil, Crowley is an unreliable narrator of the story of his Fall. He labels the variations in clock times as a continuity error in a show where Everything Is Meant, but he doesn't say whose continuity error it is. He insists that the Bentley is the same through the whole season; maybe it was the same, but remembered differently. Maybe this is part of why there's more CGI but it's harder to spot.

So What?

Is this all there is to it? I sure hope not. I like my Good Omens with enough layers to put to shame an onion wrapped in a cake and covered in a parfait.

Is this possibly the fancy footwork that's distracting from the real magic trick? I wouldn't put it past Our Gaiman. There are a lot of things one could hide in the narrative of unreliable memory.

Is this going to stop me from rewatching and repondering and remaking theories for the next couple years? Not even at gunpoint.

[slackerlifewhere]

In defense of Ron Molan

Since I already wrote a post about Deruth, I'm going to make one for Ron as well because I'm absolutely confused why some readers hate him too.

Fair warning once again, if you haven't read or finished the first volume of TCF, please be prepared for SPOILERS. Thanks!

So...this is going to be a long post too. Be prepared lmao

Isekai and Abandonment

Like with Deruth, the most common thing some readers hate about Ron, is how he abandoned OG Cale and didn't seem to notice a difference when Cale and Kim Rok Soo got swapped.

Like I mentioned in my post about Deruth, please put yourself in their shoes before criticizing or hating them. Imagine this.

You noticed that a friend or family of yours, someone who you know for how many years, suddenly changed. The changes aren't obvious. There are some parts of their personality that are still them and some that have changed. What would you first think?

Transmigration? Long lost twin? Clone? Possession? No. The first thing you'll probably think is they have a problem that they can't tell you or maybe they just want to change. You'll be confused but you won't think too much about it. It happened but what are you gonna do about it? Ask them? And if they don't tell you why, would you push for it? Maybe you'll continue to watch and see if you'll find something incriminating but it won't ever answer your questions unless the other person talks.

So is Ron at fault for not noticing this after serving OG Cale since he was a baby (and changed his diapers lmao)?

Yes and no.

He should've asked Cale, former KRS, more about the topic. He should've pushed because he's an assassin. It's his job to know more. But he didn't push because there is some truth to Cale's first impression of Ron.

He cares for OG Cale but it's not enough for him to leave behind his thirst for revenge and completing his goals. And in all honesty, I find it logical for him to leave OG Cale to join Choi Han in TBoaH.

He lost his whole family to Arm, with only Beacrox as his reminder of what he lost. He was accepted as a butler for the Henituse family but that doesn't mean he forgot his past as an assassin. He'll always be an assassin and he'll leave behind whatever attachments he has depending on how useful that attachment is.

He only stayed in TCF because OG Cale was replaced with Kim Rok Soo. He was intrigued but not enough to completely leave his mission. It only changed when Cale got angry when he lost his arm and helped him gain a new one. He now owes Cale a debt.

Before, he owes the Henituse family a debt because they gave him a place where he and his son can hide in. He repaid that by being their butler and possible protector from other assassins or danger (tbh I dunno if they know he's an assassin). Still, his mind is focused on any opportunity to find and kill the organization that ruined his life. So it was easy for him to leave when he first noticed the connection Choi Han has with Arm.

Saying he abandoned Cale because he doesn't care is not completely wrong but it's also not completely right. He has layers. (Like Shrek and his onion lmao)

Lemon tea and Scary butlers

Another reason why some readers don't like Ron is, funnily enough, because of the lemon tea that he keeps giving Cale. And because he scares Cale.

Lemon tea? Seriously?

Some say Cale hates it and Ron keeps giving the drink. They say it shows that he doesn't care about his master and that he disrespects him. And yet, here I am just finding this absolutely hilarious.

Personally, I don't like tea so I understand why Cale doesn't like lemon tea. But I just see this interaction with Ron as a comedic relief and them bonding in their weird way. Sure, it gets repetitive, but after looking up what benefits a person gets from drinking lemon tea and knowing all the mess Cale gets into 24/7, it's pretty tame that lemon tea is the only thing he gives to Cale. These two are so emotionally stunted but that doesn't mean Cale will stay quiet if he truly doesn't like the tea Ron keeps giving him.

He's the master and Ron is the butler. Ron and Beacrox are both loyal to him. He can order Ron to stop giving him lemon tea anytime he wants. He talked down stupid nobles and priests for worse things they did and didn't do (because of Mary). I don't believe he can't tell Ron that he's being disrespectful to Cale as his butler.

If your reason is Cale is too scared of Ron to tell him to stop, then I think you don't understand their dynamic.

Cale finds everyone, not just Ron, scary. He finds the kids scary. He finds Choi Han scary. He finds the Whale Tribe scary. They're OP and can kill him before he can blink. And yet he's very close to all of them.

Ron scares him because Ron is an assassin and is very good at his job. And honestly? A normal person would be scared of Ron. But the difference is, Cale is not normal and he can also kill anyone if he wants to (are his ancient powers and skills he gained as KRS decoration to you guys?). Him being "scared" is him being respectful of Ron's abilities. He acknowledges Ron's strength but also finds the way he smiles when he can kill someone, "scary" (understandable).

So no, the whole lemon tea thing and him being scared of Ron that he can't tell him to stop giving the stupid tea doesn't make sense as a reason for hating or disliking Ron.

Oh, and last thing.

Ron actually gave Cale a sweet tea once early in the novel. I think it was before the war and Cale was stressed with a lot of things, including maintaining the shield around the territory. So...yeah, he shows concern for Cale in his own twisted way.

Again, layers.

___

That's my opinion about the matter. In short, Ron is a human being who can be selfish and dangerous. He's a person who has emotions despite being an assassin. He has his own goals. It's not that hard to understand him.

[hecates-corner]

When I first heard There Are Other Ways, I was a little disappointed by the fact that Circe didn’t successfully seduce Odysseus, considering the huge Greek Mythology nerd I am.

Bear with me.

Then, I played the saga, and that song, for my wonderful mother tonight. About halfway through, I gasped.

The story is accurate to the Homeric version: he confronts her (clandestinely at first), she fights back, he pulls the sword.

But she’s not afraid. Of course she isn’t.

Why would an immortal being, with the rage and power of commanding a million different beasts if her Plan A goes down, be afraid of a measly man with a flimsy toothpick to her throat, just because he ate a flower and said “Be afraid!”?

That’s right! She wouldn’t.

Because Jay didn’t submit to the blatant misogyny of the tale.

Read this article for incredible information, if you please. It changed the way I saw Circe’s story.

If Circe cowered, simply because a man held a sword to her throat, only then would she have seduced him (if we’re going ultra-canon with the storyline, which Jay isn’t), which would have, yet again, thrown off the balance of power.

Circe could give less of a shit about the sword, in the song. She thinks he’s pretty hot, and maybe she’s manipulating him into coming to bed with her so she can trick him, so she offers a tryst or two. Here, if you read the article, she is throwing off the nature of men and women by being the active sexual partner.

He refuses, too enamored with Penelope, and shuns his curiosity in her. You can hear how it pains him, it’s a struggle to say no. But he does. He’s strong, he’s no god, cheating on his wife for the sake of sex appeal. He’s just a man.

He begs. That’s the thing that got me. Not her, him.

“So I beg you, Circe, grant us mercy, and let us puppets leave~”

Then, Circe offers to help him — not because she’s restoring the nature of being submissive — but because she has empathy and compassion for the man. She helps him because he’s proved himself, to be weary, and faithful, and human. She knows the feeling of love.

So, yes. So many layers. Like an onion, worthy of making you cry.

1. Jay is spitting in the face of misogyny and gender roles, and having her help him because she empathizes. Because she’s in power.

2. It’s sort of a jab, if interpreted a certain way, at sexual assault. He says no, and he holds true to it. Even though everything is telling him to give in, to let it happen, he refuses, and remains as sure as he can be.

3. It shows how very human Odysseus is. Athena forgot it, and somehow held him to it. Even the men forget it. But he never does. There is only so much he can do.

This is my favorite saga so far.

[morganbritton132]

obsessed w this new saga with David and the other teachers.... perhaps them either coming over again for a small party - "it's mostly family!!" Hence being even more confused when even MORE famous people show up (THAT'S brony Erica???)

I’m picturing the same cookout from this post.

There are three new eighth grade teachers this year. Including David, there is Marissa and Jordan. Then there is Kathy, who has been at the school for two years. They are all trying to figure out what is going on with Steve Harrington.

The man is a complete mystery.

He’s a walking contradiction in a math pun sweatshirt and he is often the topic of conversation when the four of them are alone in the breakroom. Jordan describes him as ‘onion-like’ because he has many layers and Marissa always replies with, ‘yeah, a fucked up alien onion where each new layer is weirder than the last.’

It’s a bit cruel but also, they found an article about Starcourt Mall.

Who is just in a fire? Who saves a bunch of children from a structure fire that collapsed on top of them and doesn’t make it their whole personality for the rest of forever? Who just never mentions it ever?

Steve Harrington, apparently.

After David (and Kathy) left Steve’s house more confused about the mild-mannered math teacher than ever, he went home and googled ‘Eddie Harrington.’ All he found was a link to a Facebook page for some dentist.

So, like, who the hell is he even married to, right? The guy has a Grammy but not a Wikipedia page? What’s up with that?

All David knows is that when Anita (the teacher that’s probably closest to Steve) invites everybody over for a cookout and says that your partners are more than welcomed, he’s going. When Steve asks if it’d be okay if Erica stopped by on her way to the airport and Anita said yes, he’s definitely going.

He is not going to miss the opportunity to see the kid that gave her dad psychic damage by introducing him to the fucked up parts of the My Little Pony fandom. No way.

Kathy informs everybody that she will NOT be bringing her husband, but she will bring booze.

David arrives too early and ends up helping in the kitchen. He’s slicing up tomatoes with the world’s dullest knife when Steve gets there. He can’t see the front door, but he can hear Anita ask, “Oh, where’s your service doggie?”

“It’s his day off,” He hears Steve joke, “Brought the human instead.”

And then David hears the man of mystery’s man of mystery himself because Eddie says with 100% impulsive thinking and 0% brain-to-mouth filter, “Yeah, he brought his service top instead.”

David just knows that Steve is giving Eddie the same dead-eyed look of unbelievable that is reserved for students that mix their chocolate milk with peas and dare each other to drink it in the silence that follows. Anita, bless her heart, replies as happy and clueless as can be, “Oh, that’s cute. Because you provide a top-notch service.”

“Never had any compl- ow!”

The first time David gets a good look at them, Eddie’s pressed up against Steve’s back, looking over his shoulder at the pictures of Anita’s grandkids she has on her phone. One of his hands is wrapped loosely around his waist and Steve is holding the other one, fiddling with the rings on it. They look so casual, like they’re always standing that close together.

David watches as Anita points in the direction of the drinks cooler and Eddie slips away with a kiss to the side of Steve’s neck and then another to his cheek. They hold hands until they absolutely have to let go. It’s cute. Marissa, next to him, scoffs and says, “Gag me with a spoon, they’re fucking adorable.”

Eddie returns to Steve with two beers and a Smirnoff Ice for Anita, gets another kiss and clearly calls Steve ‘sweetie’ when he clinks their bottles together. Steve throws his arm across Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie tucks his hand into Steve’s back pocket like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

David loses track of Steve and Eddie for a while, catching them in his peripheral as he mingles with everybody. He seems them steal a kiss. He sees them laughing at something Kathy says. He sees them holding hands as Eddie looks utterly lost during a discussion of the baseball season.

At one point, he sees Eddie stand up on the bench of the picnic table and get yanked down by Steve. They’re both laughing and Steve gives him a kiss that is not exactly chaste.

Cindy rolls her eyes at them and says that they’re always like that.

Him and Jordan are playing cornhole against Steve and Eddie. He’s almost positive that Eddie is not as bad at the game as he’s pretending to be, but just likes when ‘Stevie baby’ guides him through how to throw the beanbags. If it wasn’t for Steve excusing himself than he probably wouldn’t have noticed the big SUV parked in the driveway.

His first thought when he sees Erica is ‘oh, she must be adopted’ followed immediately by ‘wait, duh’ and then by ‘hey, wait a minute.’

Steve gets stopped by her bodyguard before he can hug her with a big threatening hand on his shoulder. David’s still trying to figure out why she looks so familiar when Erica says to the bodyguard, “Uh, excuse you. Do not touch him. He was my first bodyguard, have some respect.”

Steve scoffs, “I was your babysitter.”

“I’m sorry,” Erica says, full of sass. Eddie is a couple steps back, grinning ear to ear. He loves when Erica and Steve get into it. “Did you bleed for me? Did you fight for me? Did you, Steve Harrington, get tortured so I made it out safe? I think so. Bodyguard.”

Eddie finally greets her with a bow, “Lady Applejack.”

Erica gives him a flat look and tells her bodyguard, “You can tase that one.”

David is still reeling from the words ‘babysitter’ and ‘torture’ that he probably would’ve missed Marissa in his ear if she wasn’t so goddamn loud, “Holy shit, that’s a fucking US Senator.”

Jordan is quieter when she mutters, “Language.”

Later in the evening when the sun is starting to set and they should all really go home and prep their lesson plans for next week, Anita’s husband lights a bonfire. David is sitting across from the fire from Steve and Eddie and he so tempted to ask what Eddie does for a living when Steve whispers something to him and then stands up quickly.

He can’t even ask what that was about because Eddie gets up and follows him, almost matching Steve’s quick steps into the house. They’re gone for a while, long enough that David gets up to check on Steve. He looked pretty pale when he rushed out of here.

He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears them, and he stops. Steve sounds tired but reassuring as he repeats, “I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m fine now.”

He hears Eddie respond with, “I know, baby. I know, but rest with me for a minute, kay?”

When he pokes his head around the turn in the staircase, he can see the bottom of Steve’s Nikes hanging over the top landing. He can also see the bottom of Eddie’s boots where he’s crouched over Steve. His first reaction is to think he stumbled on them in a compromising position, but he can’t bring himself to move just yet.

“You just had a seizure, take your time getting your bearings, sweetheart. Do you wanna go home?” Eddie asks in a cacophony of jingling metal rings and chains. Steve makes a noise that Eddie interprets, “Okay, do you want me to give you space?”

“No, come –“ The sound of metal clinking together doesn’t get louder, just more and when David pokes his head around the corner again, Eddie is straddled across Steve’s lap. Steve’s hands are on his hips and then higher, pushing up Eddie’s shirt clumsily just feeling him. “Feel floaty.”

“I’ll keep you grounded, baby.”

David knows he should leave, or at least looks away, but he stuck frozen to the floor at the sight of the scar tissue running up Eddie’s sides and back. They’re deep and jagged, and old. It looks like he was torn open and sewed back shut, and it takes David a long time to get his feet to go back down the stairs.

He goes back out to the fire a little dazed and later, it’s only Eddie that returns. He whispers something to Anita and then disappears into the night.

When Cindy makes a comment about Steve leaving without a proper goodbye, David tells her to shut up.

[kittycatcaptive]

Light Yagami is the kind of monster that you don't really see until it's too late, the kind that will smile so brightly and hold your hand and walk you to a beautiful cliffs edge just to push you off. Or sometimes you do catch a glimpse of him, the real him, out of the corner of your eyes, but when you turn to look the mask is back and he will smile like he knows something you don't. Light is a monster, but you find yourself drawn in with honeyed words that feel just a bit too sharp and a smile with a few too many teeth. Light mimics the kind of person everyone wishes they could be, at least on the surface, but if you just watch long enough you can see something dark writhing under the surface. Light is some terrible thing caged in a human body, writhing and raging and screaming underneath perfect hair and clear skin and falsely warm eyes. 

Light Yagami is the sun, bright and beautiful, he is the warmth on your skin after a long, miserable winter. he brings life, feeds and nurtures what he believes is his. But just like the sun he is capable of burning the very same skin he warmed, destroying it from the outside in and the inside out. capable of causing droughts that lead to famine, capable of starving and destroying. He can dry and crack and crumble the very same earth that once bloomed with new life at whim and he does, simply because he can, and he wants too. Light, much like the sun, knowingly or unknowingly, intentionally or unintentionally destroys everything that gets close to him and fundamentally changes every person, every surface he touches. 

L Lawliet is the kind of monster who doesn't ever try to be anything other than what he is. L is the ghost you see out of the corner of your eyes, even if he's gone by the time you turn your head. L is the feeling you get when you know your being watched even when you can't figure out who's watching and from where. L is the kind of monster whose eyes seem to peel you like an onion, examining every layer as he goes, sees parts of you that you didn't even know were there. L is the kind of monster who's every look will rip you apart piece by piece just because he wants to see what makes you tick, what makes you who you are. And when he has stripped you bare, ripped holes in your flesh and prodded at your mind and examined your soul, will simply move on. when his eyes leave you with your now cracked mask and tattered soul you understand what it is to be an ant under a microscope, to have been swallowed whole, to be seen and known right to your core and that is truly terrifying.

L Lawliet is the moon, usually quiet and calm but still capable of moving whole oceans. He is the pull of gravity, The cycle of the tides, feeding and nurturing whole ecosystems. He is a pearl in an inky ocean of stars, lighting your path in the night. But the moon, just like the sun is capable of starving and destroying. Capable of eating things whole, capable of flooding whole areas and swallowing swimmers into the depths. He can erode earth and rock into sand, can swallow whole sections of earth to keep within himself forever at whim and he does, simply because he can, and he wants too. L much like the moon, is ever changing, one day he may be there to light your path through the night and the next he will be gone, leaving you lost and blind in the dark.