#was writing the next chapter of lover boy and leaving out gaps to fill in the actual places of rooms later lmaooo

[btsgotjams27]

All Grown Up ~ JJK | 4

✨ title: all grown up | series (completed) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: R/18+ ~ minors dni ✨ genre/au: romance, fluff, angst, friends-to-lovers, humor, banter, smut, age gap, best friends little brother ✨ warnings: noona kink, older woman, younger man, kissing, oral (m,f), unprotected intercourse, significant age gap (9 years), confident Jungkook, cocky Jungkook, bratty Jungkook, crappy mom, but overall Jungkook is the sweetest, most romantic boy who's fallen in love | warnings for each chapter will vary ✨ author's notes: I won't be updating this series on Tumblr. This fic is inspired by the k-drama, Something in the Rain. ✨ author's notes 2: okay, so i do plan on editing the rest of this series! i just don't know when it'll be done. ✨ can also read on AO3 or Wattpad

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] prev | next ✨ late night outing

✨ chapter four ~ on set | wc : 2.3k

After lunch, the two of you went back to the set, and you showed him around. He was curious about your day-to-day routine. He followed you around like a lost puppy. You found it endearing.

“Do you just sit here in case they need you?” he asked with his hands behind his back, gazing at the many people running around.

You noticed him standing incredibly close to you. Again, smelling the cologne that was fresh off of his skin. “I…I do more than just sit, okay?” you stuttered. “Sometimes, I have scenes to re-write, and I'm always writing down my ideas for other scripts.” You showed him the notebook held in your hands.

“Can I see what you have written down?” He inquired curiously, wondering what hidden treasures he’d find from the mind full of daydreams and reveries.

You tightly gripped it. “Oh…there are personal things in here too.”

His lips thinned out and he nodded, “Ah okay. Have you ever shared it with anyone else?”

You shook your head. “Not really. I typically like to keep my writing to myself.” You lied. You shared it with U-jin, but he never paid attention. You would be excited about a scene or an idea that you had and share it with him, but his mind was always elsewhere. After that, you learned your lesson and kept it to yourself.

“Maybe one day you'll be comfortable enough to share it with me?” His lips curled into a sweet smile. He'd love to hear what came out of that beautiful head of yours. He could sit for hours on end hearing you chat about the things you love.

“What makes you so special enough to see it, hmm…” you asked, teasing him.

“Well, I'll wait until that one day when you're ready to share it with me.” And he hoped it to be true, where one day you'd let him in and tell him all your hopes and dreams.

Someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned to see Hee-jin, wanting to pull you aside for a quick chat.

"Um, I'll be right back. Feel free to grab whatever snacks you want from craft services." You pointed to the tent filled with every kind of snack he could dream of.

He looked back, and his eyes lit up. Snacks were his worst enemy. He walked towards the tent, leaving you to do your thing. The wide array of snacks, candy, and drinks made his mouth salivate, even though he was pretty full from lunch. Maybe these could be snacks for his office.

He cruised around the u-shaped table, grabbing what pleased him, someone behind him was trying to get his attention. He turned around to find Lee Sora standing as cute and innocent as she could be, puppy eyes and all.

"Oh…hello," he quickly acknowledged her and returned to wandering through snacks and candy.

"We, um…met earlier," she said in a sweet, high pitched voice, hands intertwined, legs crossed at the ankle. She was on her best behavior at that moment.

He hummed in response, not giving her any attention. She found it annoying, because most men did. Sora wondered why any of her normal charms weren't working on him.

She cleared her throat. "So…what do you do?" She tried to carry on a conversation, but Jungkook wasn't remotely interested.

"I work in the gaming industry," he said, with a muffled mouth full of chocolate chip cookies. The search for snacks continued. His eyes widened when he found his favorite, a small bottle of banana milk. He held two in one hand and stuffed another bottle in his pants pocket.

Sora glared at the fluffy haired young man standing in front of her, acting like a child who won a prize. She thought to herself, wondering if it would be worth it to try and get his attention again. It was clear that she wouldn’t be getting what she wanted.

You glanced in the direction where the snack tent was and could see Sora’s attempt to talk to Jungkook again. Words kept coming out of Hee-jin’s mouth but you couldn’t comprehend anything she was saying. You were laser focused on Jungkook, hoping that Sora wasn’t annoying him, possibly enough to make him leave.

“Hey Hee-jin…” You interrupted her train of thought.

“Yeah?”

“Can I get back to you about that revision? Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll be right back.” You emphasized to her before fleeing towards Jungkook and Sora.

She was trying her best to keep the conversation going but Jungkook wasn’t giving her any energy to work off of. They stood around awkwardly before she spoke again but thankfully you came to Jungkook’s rescue.

“Hey!” you said, out of breath because you ran over as fast as possible to save him from the clutches of Lee Sora. “Sorry that it took so long.”

Jungkook immediately turned to you, completely ignoring Sora. “Yah–you owe me.” He chuckled softly.

“Shut up. Come on. Are you good?” Staring at the huge mountain of snacks in his arms. “You have enough snacks to feed a whole village.”

“Want one?” He held out a box of chocolate pocky.

You shook your head and led the way out of the snack tent, leaving Sora speechless as you stole the one thing she was interested in. A smirk left your face, feeling high-and-mighty in that moment.

Jungkook chased after you, nudging your arm. “Thanks for saving me.” He could smell her desperation from a mile away, so he was glad you grabbed him.

You gasped dramatically, turning to him. “You mean you’re not head over heels in love with the beautiful Lee Sora? She was practically drooling over you.”

The two of you turned back to look at Sora. She was bossing another intern around again, but when she saw Jungkook looking, she straightened up and waved stupidly. You snickered at how desperate she was for his attention.

He shrugged. “Meh–I think you're more beautiful.”

“Oh gee-thanks.” It almost felt like a back-handed compliment because Lee Sora was beautiful. Everyone swooned over her when they were in her presence. You were a nobody, sometimes feeling invisible at work, surrounded by famous actors and actresses. Nonetheless, you could feel your cheeks warming up.

He cocked his head to the side, trying to get your attention. “You are .”

“Shut up Jungkookie.” You rolled your eyes and ruffled his hair before leaving him again to chase after you. It was hard to believe his words. You were sure he was just being courteous.

“Noona–” he called as he caught up to you. “It looks like you have a lot of fun on set. Thank you for showing me around. I should get to work, though.”

He was leaving already? You felt like he didn't get to see much. “You…You still have to work? I thought you were off.” What’s wrong with him? Skipping work? For what though? He could have come after work or another day when there were more fun things happening on set.

He chuckled. “No, I just took the morning off.”

You gently hit his arm. “Why did you do that?” It seemed a bit irresponsible but you didn't want to scold him. He was grown, he could do whatever he wanted.

He flashed a bunny smile. "Because I wanted to see you and because I can."

You smiled to yourself thinking about how he took time off to come see you. U-jin would never even if you begged.

"I'll see you when I see you?" he asked while checking his phone and then peering at you.

"Yeah…" You nodded and smiled. "Oh--my mom said to come by whenever to pick up side dishes."

"I'll call you when I come to get it, so I can see you too." Another smile left his lips.

You smiled stupidly as you watched Jungkook walk away, hailing a cab. It was the first good day you've had in a while. You hoped the days would keep getting better.

Jungkook was whistling happily down the stairs as he was heading to his office, when he bumped into his co-worker Jin.

"Someone looks happy." Jin guessed from how cheerful and upbeat he was today.

He didn't answer Jin but instead a grin was plastered across his face. He couldn't help but feel overexcited spending some time with you today.

"Are you just getting in?"

Jungkook nodded. "Yeah, I was hanging out with someone." Although it was brief, he wouldn't trade it for the world. Again, it's been a few years since he's seen you, his longtime crush, and someone who was newly single.

"Hanging out? As in hanging out with no clothes on?" Jin sent him a wink with a sly smile.

"Hyung, gross, not that kind of hanging out." Jungkook slightly shoved Jin.

Jin let out a laugh. "I don't know. I had to ask. Who were you with? A girl?"

"She's my Noona's best friend."

"Oh, not a girl...a woman, an older woman?"

"She's not that much older." He was trying to defend you and convincing himself that having a crush on you was completely normal, even though to some, there was a big age gap.

"I'll be the judge of that. How old is she?"

"Thirty-three," Jungkook said casually, attempting his best not to make a big deal of it because, to him, age was nothing but a number. The two of you were grown adults, and if you should happen to be interested in one another, then so be it. He never understood what the big fuss was about dating someone older.

"Thirty-three?!" Jin's eyes widened. "I'm almost thirty. She's almost ten years older than you?" Still in shock after hearing his answer.

"So…"

Jin leaned in closer to him, his hand covering his mouth so no one could hear their conversation. "Do you like her or something?"

Jungkook scoffed. "What? No, she's my Noona's best friend….that would be weird? Wouldn't it?" He asked, trying to gauge Jin's reaction. He low-key had a crush on you for as long as he could remember, but that was then and there's no way you would even see him as anything more right?

Hardly convinced, Jin chuckled and shook his head. “Uh huh--so you spent the morning with her with no other motive?”

He turned to his Hyung with a fake smile. “Nope, no other motive.”

“So you'll be okay if I asked her out then?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Hyung--!” Exclaiming loudly, then he covered his mouth, realizing he didn’t mean to shout.

Jin laughed, leaning down to pat his legs. “Ha! I knew it.”

“It's been years since I've seen her and we just caught up with one another. Nothing more.” Truly, honestly, nothing but that…even Jungkook was struggling to convince himself otherwise.

“Okay then set us up on a blind date.” Jin teased him, wanting to get the truth out of him, once-and-for-all. He wouldn’t give up until he did.

“Hyung!” At this point, Jungkook began to pout.

“Wow, it's so clear that you're in love right now. You won't even set me up on a date.” Jin jokingly shook his head in disappointment, and then chuckled seeing Jungkook pouty and crushing hard on you.

“I might have a teensy crush on her.”

Jin wrapped his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Ah, there we go. Thatta boy. You admitted it, it wasn't that hard, was it?”

He glared over at Jin. “Don't say anything.”

“I don't even know the girl--I mean woman,” Jin corrected himself, mocking Jungkook and his love for an older woman.

“Hyung!” Jungkook stomped his feet like a toddler who didn’t get what he wanted.

“I won't say anything. I promise. Go get her tiger,” he said, slapping Jungkook's ass as he stepped into his office.

After work, Yuna, your best friend and Jungkook's older sister wanted to go wedding dress shopping to get some ideas and as the maid of honor, it was your duty. With an iced coffee in one hand and phone in the other, you were mindlessly scrolling through Instagram while she was trying on wedding dresses.

Yuna stepped out in one of the poofiest, princess-looking dresses she could find. "What do you think about this one?"

"It's pretty." You commented without even looking up from your phone. It's not that you didn't care about your best friend getting to pick out her dream dress. You were just sulking about not getting to pick yours. She took your appointment since the bridal boutique had been booked for months.

"EARTH TO Y/N!" she exclaimed, glaring at you.

You snapped out of your daze and looked up at Yuna. "Ah, sorry."

"What is going on with you today? Are you good?"

"I saw U-jin today."

A chill ran down her spine, making her shiver. "Gross. Did something happen?"

"He was being his usual self, but thank god Jungkook was there. He saved the day." And he really did, you were thankful for that. You weren't sure how to face a cheating ex-boyfriend.

"Jungkookie was? Were you guys hanging out?"

“Oh--yeah, he wanted to see the production set, so he came to visit.”

Yuna smiled. “I'm so glad Jungkookie is back. I missed him so much and he's gotten so mature and grown. I can't believe it. Remember when my mom would make us babysit? He was so mischievous and always asking for sweets.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah…”

“Did you guys have fun at least even though you saw U-jin?” She asked while looking at herself in the mirror, trying to see if she liked the dress or not.

You thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, we did actually.”

✨ previous chapter ~ jungkook, the boyfriend...?

✨ next chapter ~ late night outing

[speechlessxx]

I Can Keep A Secret. - 4 (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: In a jealous rage, Steve accidentally says something he doesn’t mean as he discovers something personal about the reader. 

Warnings: no Clark in this chapter, slight fingering (18+ Minors DNI), nudity but not really, lots of cussing, angsty, make-out scene, shitty writing (it’s been a while i’m sorry!), AGE GAP (reader is stated to be 21 but age is just a number. call her wtv age you want). 

Word Count: ~2.7k 

again... i apologize this sucks. i haven’t written anything since like august. 

Buy me a Ko-Fi (not necessary but i’m broke, yo) 

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

Steve never considered himself a jealous man. When he was involved with Sharon Carter, he never paid any mind to the revolving door of “friends” she entertained. Truthfully, throughout the numerous relationships he’s had in his life, Steve Rogers had never been the one to be jealous.

How could he?

Steve didn’t think he was an egomaniac nor narcissistic – not in the way that Tony Stark was, at least. But he knew he was charming. He knew he was wealthy – the black cards in his Burberry wallet reminded him of that. He knew he was handsome. He knew his worth – hell, even Forbes did.

His thoughts had never been infiltrated by the ugly, green rage monster that filled his head with insecurities. That is… Until the headlines and photographs of (Y/N) Barnes’s dinner date with “America’s richest and handsomest” bachelor, Clark Kent, had made its rounds.

It was a form of self-torture as he scrolled furiously through the many posts about the two.

Dynasties Colliding!

Clark Kent off the Market?

Everything you need to know about (Y/N) Barnes, Clark Kent’s new girlfriend.

He clicked his tongue in disgust at that last article as he skimmed through it. It was obvious that the writer had a biased opinion – one so clearly against (Y/N) – as it pointed out her “college dropout” status and her “naivete” to be involved with a man ten years her senior.

He scoffed… If only they knew.

Though, Steve couldn’t help but compare himself to the younger man. Sure, Clark was richer than he was with a booming business and a company created generations before Steve was even born. His net worth pushed him much higher than Steve and Bucky on the Forbes’s listings. But surely, he didn’t have the same chemistry as he and (Y/N) did… Surely.

As if to mock him, a photo of Clark kissing her knuckles appeared on his monitor. He glared at it, fuming with hot jealousy. He hated that feeling bubbling inside as he stared at her flustered face digitally immortalized by paparazzi and fan photos.

His phone buzzed to life as the screen displayed her name… And he did what he had been doing for the past few days following the polo match, he sent it straight to voicemail, spiteful that she even entertained Clark’s request to go on a date.

Had he misread the signs? Had there been any signs to begin with? Had she played him? Was he just her happy distraction until she could find her bearings in New York?

A sharp knock interrupted him from his thoughts as Bucky’s broad shoulders filled his open office door. He had a wide smile on his face as he entered the room, closing the door.

“You read the gossip?” Bucky chuckled. A sly smirk on his face as he sat himself in the seat across Steve’s desk. Steve quickly clicked out of his tabs and raised his brows at Bucky. “With (Y/N) getting Clark interested, other investors are looking at us, too. It’s great.”

“So, you’re really using your daughter to lure business opportunities?” Steve snorted. Considering how enchanting she was, it wasn’t a terrible strategy. If Steve hadn’t gotten so attached so quickly, he’d even advise Bucky to have her stalk the airport terminals, too.

“It’s working, man. He’s interested in the company. He wants a tour. He’s talking big money. We can scrap any deals with Stark. He’s our top priority now.”

“Buck,” Steve laughed so dryly it became a scoff. “He’s not interested in the company. He’s clearly interested in her – and only her. As soon as you give the green light and she rips the cord with him, he’s gonna back out. He’s got the lawyers to make sure that any contract he signs will get voided, too.”

His tone had been hopeful although Bucky didn’t pick up on it. Bucky had just waved it off as Steve being cautious – not Steve hoping that his daughter would dump Clark and focus all her attention back on him.

“No, no.” Bucky shook his head, waving his hand, too. “She’s equally into him. Piqued her interest more than Peter did, for sure.” Steve stopped himself from rolling his eyes, knowing damn well that she was never interested in the Stark boy. “He dropped her off and she was blushing like crazy. Ran to her room and practically screamed her head off with that Wanda girl on the phone.”

Steve pressed his lips into a straight line. He didn’t trust himself enough to respond, knowing any sarcastic remark would land him in the hot seat, with Bucky asking questions he wasn’t ready to answer… or rather, didn’t have the answers to.

“Besides… y’know one contract that’s incredibly difficult to get out of?” Steve hummed. “A marriage.”

Steve choked. “Marriage? Buck, c’mon, she’s twenty-one.” Bucky nodded, taking his daughter’s age into consideration. “Marriages are definitely the easiest to get out of. Must I remind you the reason why you haven’t seen her since she was a baby?”

“Hey!”

“Besides, isn’t he too old for her?” Steve internally cringed. Suddenly, wishing he could take it back, afraid of what Bucky would say. Like you aren’t thirty-nine, dumbass?

“He’s thirty-three. She’s twenty-one. She can date whoever she wants. She’s an adult.”

“That’s dangerously permissive.” Stop talking.

“Why’re you acting like her father, Steve?” Bucky asked, raising his brows inquisitively.

“I’m just saying, Clark’s closer in age with us than with (Y/N).” Steve shrugged. “I’m just looking out for her.”

I just want her to myself.

“Well, since you’re oh-so invested in looking out for her, I’m gonna need a favor.”

»————-　♡　————-««

Out of the many things to do on a Friday night in the big city, Steve found himself walking through the threshold of the Barnes’s penthouse. He silent cursed at Bucky, who asked him to look after his daughter for the weekend. The same daughter he had been avoiding for the past week, blowing off her calls and leaving her texts unread.

Steve found Bucky’s favor to be a direct contradiction to the statement he made prior. She’s twenty-one. She’s an adult. An adult who needed another adult’s supervision as it seemed.

However, Steve understood. She was relatively new to the city, only being here for a little over a month and a half, and known for her reckless behavior back in Los Angeles – the reason why she was in New York to begin with. Although Bucky didn’t quite keep her on a tight leash, he kept on a leash, nevertheless.

Bucky had already left that afternoon, leaving the penthouse somewhat quiet save for the music coming from the hallway that led into (Y/N)’s bedroom. He cracked a smile as he approached the hall. He could hear her obnoxiously singing along to the provocative lyrics of that one song – WAP, was it?

His hand absentmindedly found its way to her doorknob, twisting the metal and pushing the door open. She shrieked as her phone fell from her hands with a thud against the floor. She scrambled for her towel that lay haphazardly on her bed, messily wrapping it around her naked body.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” She screamed over the music. 

Steve stared at her with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. Her hair was still damp, knotting and begging to be combed out. Her chest heaved as she breathed heavily. The towel did little to hide her from his hungry eyes as he fought to keep his stare at her face and only her face. She called for the Alexa to stop playing the music before running a hand through her knotted hair. 

“Steve, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Your – your dad asked me to – uh – “he was losing the battle as his eyes gave her a look over, feeling the heat rise to his face. It was not the only thing that has risen. He tore his stare away from her, scanning the room instead. “He asked me to watch over you.” Steve explained, finally finding the words.

“Like a babysitter?” She scoffed. She had been itching to see Steve, hating him just a bit for ghosting her, but looking like that? She was willing to forgive.

“Yeah…” Steve nodded.

“Well,” she smirked playfully, “since you’re baby-sitting… Why don’t you let your baby sit on your lap, huh, daddy?” She batted her lashes at him, and he instantly melted, forgetting his jealousy and spite for just a second. She reached out for him and had him sit at the edge of her bed, straddling his thick thighs. “Excited to see me?”

His resolve and pent-up angst disappeared. “You’re damn right.” Steve muttered, hand fisting her knotted hair and smashing his lips onto hers. The kiss was every bit hungry and desperate as it was passionate – like two star crossed lovers finally catching a moment alone.

She moaned into his mouth as his free hand slipped beneath her towel, which was loosening as she grinded against his strained pants. His fingers explored her slit, fumbling as he tried to find her bundle of nerves.

“I missed you,” she gasped as he found it within seconds, rubbing tight circles around her clit.

His lips left a trail of kisses along her jaw and sucked the sensitive skin under her ear, eliciting long moan from her as he played with her, relishing in her responsiveness. He felt her juices coat his fingers as he teased her hole, but the moment suddenly cut short when her phone dinged.

Once. And then a second, then a third.

She looked over her shoulder and glanced down at the screen. Steve pinched her, causing her to gasp again. “Don’t.” He warned her, his voice a deep growl.

It dinged again. “I’m gonna silent it,” she promised, pecking his lips as she hopped off his lap. “Oh,” she frowned. She ran a hand through her knotted hair before glancing at him, then typing.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked her as he stood from her bed and walked over to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her into him.

“I… Uh… Clark wants to hang out again.” She told him.

Steve rolled his eyes though she didn’t see. “Blow him off.” He told her, leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulders, leading back up to that sweet spot beneath her ear. Her eyes rolled back before she pushed away from him. “We haven’t seen each other in days – “

“Because someone kept sending me to voicemail,” she rebutted. “I-I have to go see him, Steve. If my dad found out – “

“Then tell him you’re not into him.” Steve insisted. She remained silent as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Steve frowned. “Wait, are you – are you into him?”

“I dunno…”

“You don’t know?” He asked her. “If you’re into him, the hell are you sitting on top of me naked for?”

“Steve – “

“God, it’s like you like making yourself easy to guys.” The envy – the green, little monster that tore at his ego and his heart – suddenly rose. No thoughts were running through his head – just angry words from his mouth.

“Excuse me?” An enraged look splayed across her face. Brows furrowed and arms crossed defensively.

“Well, considering you sold pictures of yourself to total strangers – “he stopped himself before the rest of the sentence. The self-control had finally resurfaced, but the damage had been done as fury in her features mellowed and turned into hurt.

“Is that… Is that what you think of me?” She asked him, willing her voice not to crack but the tears had already begun to form. She furiously blinked them away before huffing. “Well, it doesn’t matter what you think anyway ‘cause I’m not with you.”

“And what you’re with Clark Kent?” He seethed his name.

“At least he doesn’t call me easy.”

Steve chuckled, dryly. “Bar’s set low then, huh? Says the girl who sucked me off on the airplane when we knew each other less than two hours. Wonder the things you’d do for him.” It was spite. His words were pure spite and jealousy. They held no meaning but they sure had weight. 

“What’s your problem?” She snapped. “Damn it, Steve! I like you. I really do, genuinely, but y’know it fucking sucks when the guy you like suddenly ghosts you.”

“And it fucking sucks when the girl you’re actually interested in goes on a date with some hot shot, pretty, rich boy. Probably fucks him in the back of his limo, too.”

She stomped over to Steve, shoving him with one hand while the other kept her towel from slipping off. “Get. Out!”

“No, no,” Steve argued, grabbing her arm easily overpowering her to stop pushing him. “You’re gonna answer.” She raised her brows at him. “Are you fucking him in the back of his limo? Are you that easy?”

Her jaw dropped as she stared at him in disbelief. “You’re not my dad, so that’s none of your concern.” She began to push him towards her door, and he let her this time. “And…” Her fingers tapped against the wooden door as she stared back at him. 

“It’s none of your business, but for your information, I’m a virgin.” She clicked her tongue as a smirk splayed across her face. “Won’t be for long, though. ‘Cause Mr. Kent is inviting back to one of his many lavish, expensive homes in New York.”

And with that she slammed the door shut, locking it with the new lock her father had installed.

»————-　♡　————-««

“(Y/N)…” He called out to her, knocking on her door. “C’mon, sweetheart.” It had been half an hour since their fight, and she had yet to come out of her room.

“Go away!” She called out from the other side of the wooden pane as if she were a child.

“I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean it. I was just jealous – “

“I don’t care, Steve!”

He sighed. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go out for dinner, yeah? Just me and you. Whatever you want. You wanna embarrass me by making me use chopsticks? Let’s go. You wanna hit me with a bottle of champagne? Take your pick. I’m down.”

“Fuck off, asshole!”

You deserve that. He agreed.

Steve suddenly heard a click of the lock before she pulled the door open, pushing past him and he let her. She had a duffle in one hand and her phone in the other, typing away. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you,” she spat. She didn’t even spare him a second look.

“You going with Clark?”

“None of your business, dick.”

He called her full name and she stopped in her tracks, spinning on her heel to look at him with her brows raised. Steve had his hands on his hips as he stared at the floor before looking down at her. “You are not leaving and that’s final.”

“Oh, yeah?” She challenged, taking a step towards him. Her heel clicking against the ground. She crossed her arms across her chest as she tilted her head. “And what? You’re gonna stop me?”

“Don’t make me, sweetheart.”

“Well,” she smirked. “Take it up with my dad… because unlike you, he actually approves of my blossoming relationship with Clark Kent. I swear he’s already planning the wedding … while I, on the other hand, all I care about is the honeymoon… And I think we’re gonna get a head start to it, actually.”

Steve took a step towards her as she took a step back. “Stop being a little brat and just – “

“No, Steve,” she corrected. “I’m being easy. And you’re completely right… Sometimes being easy is just fun.”

He grabbed her arm before she could turn around and pulled her towards him. She bit her lip as she stared up at him with faux innocence. Her lips glistened with whatever gloss it was she used to make her lips plump as she challenged every bit of authority Steve had.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss that bratty attitude right out of her. He leaned in as her eyes fluttered close and he knew he had her. Then, suddenly, the elevator doors dinged and opened, ruining the moment. Both their heads snapped towards the guest.

“What the hell?” 

[nomazee]

Komorebi (5)

komorebi, p.5

synopsis: Tsukishima dislikes the amount of parallels there are with you and Hinata. He dislikes the way you’re so energetic and exuberant when you want to be, and the way you can get along so well with people. He dislikes the way that people are naturally drawn to you, and the way you’re so willing to put time into your dumb gifts and snacks and treats for a team of boys you barely know. But Tsukishima does not dislike you. And he supposes that’s part of the problem. 

series content: developing relationship, (sort of) ooc tsukishima, strangers to (sort of) friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six (final)

(THIS IS A DAY LATE IM SORRY school is really kicking me in the cooch rn but i got it out as soon as i can!! this chapter’s a little longer (still very short gjsfhgjadhf) but!! the next chapter will be the last!!! i’m very excited i hope you  guys are too :))) 

after im done with this series (which will be in the next week hopefully!!) i’m gonna do my 200 follower celebration!!  i have a basic idea of what i’m gonna do and i’ll talk about details soon :)

thank you for all the support on this series it really makes me happy!! the last chapter got 100+ notes and like,,,,wow GSHGSLNO enjoy this chapter!!)

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

Tsukishima wishes you’d get angry at him. 

It’s the one moment in his life where he prefers noise over silence. It’s unfortunate that he won’t get the former and is instead stuck with the ironically deafening presence of the latter. 

You’re quiet. So, so quiet. He’s recognized this change before but as days pass it gets harder for him to handle. He misses your eyes. He wants to see the way the ring around your iris changes color with the angle of the sunlight. He wants to hear the charm of your backpack jingle with every bouncy step you take. He wants to see the open gaps left in your messily-knit cardigan—and at moments when he drowns deeper in his head, he realizes he wants his hands to slip under the fabric of that cardigan and wrap around your shoulders and pull your form tightly to his. 

Tsukishima Kei is a greedy man. But only for you. 

He suppresses a gag at the cheesy thought as he sits in his Modern Literature class. Yamaguchi sits at the seat next to him, sneaking discreet glances that aren’t so discreet. He knows that his friend is aching to interrogate him, just like he’s tried every day for a week so far. (Tsukishima winces at the thought that it’s been a week since you left the tea and pastry on his desk.) 

Speaking of tea and pastries. You don’t seem to be letting up with the gifts. It only makes his chest hurt more, the fact that you can’t use words anymore when you used to be so good at filling up empty space with random chatter. Now you’re reduced to leaving treats semi-anonymously on his desk, things you haven’t made for him before and only now, at one of Tsukishima’s many low points in life, you’re deciding to flood him with these items as some odd form of reconciliation. 

(He calls it reconciliation to make the weight on his shoulders feel a little bit lighter. He understands, reluctantly, that it’s his responsibility to try his hand at this whole “making up” thing.) 

Anyways. Modern Literature. His brain keeps getting sidetracked and it proves to be detrimental as the teacher dismisses the class for lunch and he realizes that less than half of the worksheet he’s been assigned is finished. He’s gotten as far as writing his name down, and doing the first two questions. The date isn’t filled out and neither is the class period. Tsukishima sighs, and stands up to hand in his paper, ignoring the way the teacher scans through it and gives him a hesitant look at the uncharacteristic work (or lack thereof). 

Yamaguchi watches the wordless interaction from the doorway, initially waiting to walk to the cafeteria with Tsukishima but deciding against it as his blonde friend gives him a look that tells him to go ahead. He sighs. He should really get things together, Yamaguchi thinks. Tsukki’s never really been one to slack off during school like that.

As Yamaguchi leaves for lunch, Tsukishima sits through his teacher’s mundane spiel about keeping up with the work in class. He feels irritated and all the events that have happened in the last two weeks push at his head to try and convince him to just let all of this out, but he restrains himself. He’s already caught up with you—no help will come from finding himself in trouble with a teacher. 

At one point, the teacher notices his distant look and gives off a sigh of disappointment. She shakes her head and stands from her chair. “I hope this is just an off day, Tsukishima. I expect you to be back to normal soon.”

Tsukishima, for once in his life, has trouble pushing down the simmering anger that rises slowly to the tips of his fingers. He wants to yell, wants to hit the desk and shout and cry and fall to his knees and go to sleep all at once. He just wants to let go. 

He doesn’t, obviously. Internally conflicted as he is, he’d like to maintain some sort of composure in front of his middle-aged teacher. He wonders, though, if maybe this is how you’ve been feeling over the last few weeks. 

As the teacher walks out of the room, no more biting words left to give Tsukishima, he stands still at the front of the classroom, pulling at his fingers for a few moments as he gives himself time to calm down. There’s a lot going on in his head. He’s not sure which problem to address first. 

Stepping back to his desk, he takes out his wrapped bento and makes a move to leave the classroom. He hears footsteps, though, and as the figure becomes clear at the entryway he wonders if even thinking about you was a total mistake. 

You’re there. In the doorway of the classroom. There’s a box in your hand, one of the white ones that you always use to pack dozens of pastries in, but this one’s smaller, more personal. On top of it, there’s a friendship bracelet—navy, blue, and white, all threaded in a chevron pattern. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours. He hates the expression in your face. You look scared. Tsukishima dreads the fact that his mere presence could make you look scared.

Your lips are parted, but no words come out—it doesn’t seem like you really intend to say anything in the first place. Tsukishima does intend to say something. He wants to say something, knows that he should, that he has to. But Tsukishima Kei does not know all five-hundred-thousand words in the Japanese language, and he thinks that even if he did, he still wouldn’t know what to say to you. 

Not now. Not here when you’re standing in the classroom doorway with gifts in your hands that he knows you planned on giving him, just like every other day in the last week, looking up at him like you’re terrified to even interact with the likes of him. 

Tsukishima’s mind comes back to the present. Your mouth is closed, now, and you sniffle a bit in habit before making a complete turn in the doorway and scurrying out. 

Your footsteps are rapid, quickly getting quiet as you make your way down the hall. Away from him. 

He wants to cry. He hates crying—doesn’t remember the last time he’s done it, and doesn’t want to remember what it feels like. But it seems like every passing day gives him yet another reason to finally feel the tears and snot streaking down his face. 

Tsukishima Kei does not eat lunch that day.

[fragileizywriting]

princess and the knight

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The storm is starting to die down.

Not a lot, it’s not enough. Instead of the onslaught on the tiles of their roof, and the wind hitting up against their door and windows, there is simply just rain. The wind has disappeared, for now, leaving the pittering and pattering on their rooftop— it’s relaxing, and calming, to know that there aren’t any holes in their roof and there is no water getting in. The rain makes her all the more thankful for the green fire that burns and swelters at the fireplace, licking at the sides of the logs with small cracks and snaps. The house is quiet, sans for the fireplace, and their quiet chatter.

They are tired. It’s quite easy to forget that they’re exhausted whenever they have a conversation, but the moment Chat’s mouth clicks shut, she’s all the more aware of it.

She is lonely. It’s easier to forget that she can’t reach out to him and hold him the way she wants to when they’re bantering or conversing. The moment she opens up her eyes and sees the slight distance on the couch between them, it tells her all she needs to know.

No matter how much she wants, Chat Noir doesn’t like her that way. Maybe it’s for the best.

“Adrien loved honeycomb.” She finds herself blinking long sweeps with her lashes.

“Did he?” Chat is in the process of licking his claws clean. His tail flicks slightly, unreadable, and his furry ears twitch at her words— but nothing else gives any indication of emotion.

“He loved all sorts of sweets,” It’s only fair that she breeches the topic. She knows he didn’t have to tell her anything about his past— even though they’re friends, there’s no need for him to tell her about his migraines. She’s thankful he has— she’s so, so thankful to have learned more about the demon who sits across from her with stars in his diamond-shaped eyes. She wants to know everything about him. But that is a selfish wish. “I used to bring him food all the time. Sneak him all sorts of sweets whenever I would go see him.”

“I don’t want to pry,” He tilts his head. This sweet, soft, gentile giant of a demon who speaks softly, just in case he’s worried of hurting her. “Can you tell me more about him?”

“You want to know more?” This surprises her.

“Of course I do,” He licks his last claw clean, showing her the most friendliest of grins he can make. It doesn’t always work out in his favor, given that his teeth are sharp and deadly— far too large to be considered normal teeth, with his canines poking out sometimes when he lets them out at their full length— but it’s endearing all the same to her. “Of course I want to know more about the guy you’re selling your soul for. Must be some guy.”

Where does she start? What does she even say?

How does she condense an entire friendship into only one conversation?

She struggles to find a proper starting point, one that will explain exactly why or how her friendship with Adrien came to be.

She starts with: “Adrien loved someone.”

Chat pauses with his arm trying to place the cleaned plate on the low table behind him. He doesn’t have to stretch far, given that his arms are long, but he’s completely unfocused on the action in favor of looking at her in the eye. “Did he?”

“I don’t know who it was,” She amends her words, for some inexplicable reason. It seems to calm down the demon anyway, and she doesn’t know how to react to it as she watches his ears unflatten from his head. “I never found out who it was. Honestly, I shouldn’t have even found out. I was ten years old when I learned my first spell, and I had been so excited to show Adrien that I grabbed the first basket of cookies I could find in the bakery and headed over to his house.”

Chat listens quietly, like he usually does when she talks about him. There are so many words trying to spill out of her.

“He’d been confined to his bed for a couple of days already— oh, it was horrible. I had no idea just how long he’d actually spend there— I had begun with the assumption that it would be a week or a bit more before he was back to health.” She sighs. “Imagine seeing the incarnate of the Sun, a golden child with laughter so sweet it could nurse a crying baby to rest, confined and wrapped in countless sheets and put under custody just because he’d fainted half a week before.”

They were young, yes, but something about the sight of her best friend laying in that giant bed with no one there with him always made her uncomfortable. For a boy so small, even at a young age, and a bed so huge, she was disturbed by it. The bed was almost as big as her room. Her friend was the smallest speck of gold in a purely grey room.

At first, she’d pulled up a chair to the bed, had helped him move closer to one of the edges, and kept him company that way. Then came the days where she was too tired to try sneaking in a chair from another room, she’d sit on the massive bed with him. She’d slip off her slippers, tuck her feet under her petticoats, and have quiet conversations with him so that it wouldn’t alert any passing maids.

She suspects, however, that the maids already knew. After all, there were cookie crumbs everywhere. They did a bad job hiding it.

By the end of it all, she’d be laying with him on occasions. Multiple times she’d found herself fallen asleep next to him— how he shivered from the cold and how she’d tried warming him up while they were both asleep.

“He’d missed my birthday and he was so upset about it, so I decided to go visit him instead. The cookies I’d brought with me were magical,” She can feel her lips twitching into a smile. “It was my mother’s recipe. You take a bite of the cookie and you’d be filled with warmth and affection if you were in love with someone, and it was even sweeter if they were in love with you back. It was a winter delicacy we crafted in the bakery to keep customers from feeling too lonely during the cold season— everyone loved the batches. Very few people thought we were selling plain biscuits.”

Chat listens to every word, resting a hand against his cheek up against the sofa. “You gave him one.”

“I did,” She laughs, thinking about how her friend’s face had transformed the moment he bit into one. “I had no idea that the cookies were magical. I think you’ll get a kick out of this one, Chat— the cookies are made with clover honey, magically transformed to just be lover honey.”

“Oh, how wonderful! Wordplay is such a good way to make a joke— I’m sad I wasn’t the one to think of it.” But he grins anyway. Two perfectly sharp and perfectly deadly rows of teeth completely visible to her via the fireplace and the green Chat Noir flames. “Would you be able to make some? Do they really taste like honey?”

“They’re very sweet— of course, I can make some,” She agrees easily, giving him a smile of her own. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had this recipe, too, but they taste just as good as honeycomb. It would be nice to eat it with you.”

She wonders if he’ll feel anything when he bites into it. How will he react when he finds out that the cookie is sweet from a mysterious someone being in love with him?

She wonders if she’ll be able to hide the affection when she bites into it. After all, she— she loves him. It’s hard to hide something like that.

“Would you seriously come in through the window?”

“Yes. It was big enough for me to climb through— he lived on the second story, but the apple tree just outside his window was old enough and I was young enough that the branches wouldn’t sway too hard when I climbed them.” She can’t stop her quiet laughter, thinking of how her boots would sometimes snag against an apple or two and knock to the grass below. She always made sure to collect whatever fruit had fallen when she left, making sure that there was no indication that she’d been there to begin with. “His father prohibited visitors. Adrien was there alone for days if no one showed up to greet him. There were maids that took care of him and fed him— bathed him— but no one to stay with him. His father had turned our friends away when we’d tried to see him, and none of our friends were brave enough to try sneaking in except me. Besides, I was the smallest one who could climb the tree without breaking the limbs, so I don’t blame our friends.”

“A ladder? A flying spell?” Chat tilts his head, bewildered. “Surely you tried?”

“Of course we had,” She tries not to shutter at the memory of them being caught by the groundkeeper, a giant ladder in their hands as they tried marching towards Adrien’s window with something so heavy, and how the old man had attempted to console them with an apologetic no. “But we were too young for any of the more elaborate plans.”

Chat’s ears flatten in sympathy. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard on you all.”

“It was a little bit. I would sneak in anything I could through that window, too, bringing him food and gifts from our friends.” She shoulders into the couch pillow, trying to get comfortable. “Nino would write him so many letters that my bag was swollen with them, they all would burst out of my bag the moment I tried to pull one out. Adrien cherished every single one with such care. I would read the letters to him when his hands were too weak to break the seal, and I’d add little bits of stories here and there to give it more of a flare.”

“What would you add?”

“Nino didn’t always write down the whole story, simply because he thinks we live in his head. You’ve noticed it when he’ll try to mention there’s something happening at his house, but completely forget to actually invite us?” She smiles when Chat Noir nods with exasperation to her words. “My point exactly. Even as a young boy he’d do it too. So I’d try to fill in the gaps when he didn’t explain something correctly, assuming that I’d been there for the story he was telling.”

Chat Noir’s laughter is a friendly one as he thinks about his best friend.

“You know, Nino told us a bit about Adrien, when he’d tried to get drunk with me and Luka that one night,” Chat rolls his eyes when Marinette groans at the memory.

“Tikki, don’t remind me. What a mistake that was.”

“Nino just wanted to try something new.”

Boy did he.

A drunk naga she could handle— even as she’d been squeezed by the man’s thick tail as he’d drunkenly sang to her, claiming that she was the stars and the moon that guides his ocean currents, all of it was fine. Habitable, even. Luka had rather kept her listening to his songs the whole night— and if had been just drunk Nino and drunk Luka she’d been with, she’s certain she would’ve been listening to the two of them howling into the night, drunk off their minds, singing their hearts out.

But she hadn’t been prepared to deal with a drunk Chat Noir.

There was fire everywhere.

Even with Luka’s— albeit drunk— flooding spells to quench the charred earth, and her containment spells to keep the fire from spreading, Nino had somehow gotten caught in the crossfire between the two other beings by mentioning a wrestling competition— she would’ve laughed at the memory if it hadn’t been so dangerous.

Chat Noir’s teeth aren’t the only dangerous ones— Luka had drunkenly admitted to having venomous fangs, claiming that a human would drop on a dime if he bit them. She’s still not sure if he had been bluffing or telling the truth, but hadn’t been able to consider the validity of his claims when Chat had already agreed to wrestle him to the ground.

The two of them were monsters. Literally and figuratively. Even with a tail that spans an entire side of a house, with a weight that is likely to crush standard carriages, Chat Noir had been able to wrestle a whole coil and a half off of his own body like he’d been fighting his equal.

There was so much drunken snarling. So much biting. So much demonic howling— so much naga hissing— so much of Nino laughing at the sight of two creatures fighting. She had to tend to so, so many bites at the end of that night.

She counts her blessings every day that Alix hadn’t been put into the mix, because she’d been out of town.

If a drunk naga and a drunk demon had been difficult, she can’t begin to imagine the damage that would’ve been created if a drunk witch with a tendency to literally fan flames with her wind magic had joined the party.

Every blessing. Marinette is thankful for every blessing.

“It wasn’t all that bad.” Chat’s laughter fills the living room.

“You’re not the one who had to tend to a wounded— and drunk— demon.” She laughs with him, despite rolling her eyes. “And then had to keep that drunk demon from throwing another fight when also trying to heal a wounded— and also drunk— naga. Was it necessary to bite him on the tail?”

“Yes. If he had been truly concerned of not being bitten, maybe he’d have legs like the rest of us.” Chat’s diamond eyes glitter wide and wonderful as she giggles. “Only the weak have a huge tail instead of legs.”

“Please don’t say that to him in front of his face,” She can’t stop laughing, holding onto her sides from humor. “At least when you two are drunk, you two don’t have enough coordination to actually kill each other.”

“I can’t die,” He shrugs, a wicked look on his face. His look isn’t sinister, but it’s certainly an excited one. “At least, as far as I’m aware. Luka’s the only one who’s in danger. If he picks a fight with me, he knows that I won’t be able to lose.”

“You’re horrible,” She swats at him, trying not to feel so upset at the thought of Chat Noir being an unkillable demon. Idiot, idiot, of course he wouldn’t age like her. And of course he wouldn’t live such a short life just like her. Even if she’d wanted him to be with her like a normal relationship, something that they can’t have— Chat Noir is practically ageless compared to the creatures that live on Earth. “He’s a good guy. Don’t you dare hurt him irreparably.”

“Oh, no, you’re absolutely right— Luka’s great. I love the guy. If I didn’t consider Nino to be my best friend, I’d absolutely consider Luka being my best mate.” He crosses his arms over his chest. She tries not to snort and laugh at him refusing to call Luka a friend. “I’ve never met someone who can take a hit from me as well as him. And then proceed to get back up and hit just as hard. I can still feel that punch he’d landed on my jaw.”

“Is it not because you didn’t let me heal you that time, claiming you wanted to keep it as a souvenir of the day you got your butt kicked by a non-demon?” Her face goes a bit flat with sarcasm. When he doesn’t reply, just giving her a little quirk of his mouth, she falls into giggles. “You two are going to end up hurting each other really badly one day. More than just face punches. Why can’t you just hang out together without throwing fists?”

“Please. I’m a demon of honor— I am not going to lose to a noodle in anything.”

“A noodle?” She hides her mouth behind her hands, trying her hardest not to burst out laughing again.

“Fine, a buff noodle.”

“A noodle,” She parrots, wheezing behind her hands.

“I won’t lose to him in any of our competitions. And that includes fishing, thank you.” He grins.

“Trust in my familiar to try to win in a fishing competition against a sea serpent.” She rolls her eyes. She rolls them extra hard when his tail twitches at the word familiar. He always finds the word a bit insulting to his demon status, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s a little black cat on her shoulder while she walks through town. “You know he has a literal advantage against you? The same way you have the advantage of hunting in forests? He doesn’t blend in very well against trees, given that he’s from the sea, but at least he can still hunt on land. You’re just useless hunting in water.”

He shakes his head. “Hey! I can hunt in water! Just because I don’t like doing it doesn’t mean I can’t. Besides, don’t buy into his lies, Princess. He’s just a snake, not a dragon. Sea serpents are dragons, and no matter what Luka says, I don’t see any dragon scales on him. Just snake scales. Dragons don’t produce snake oil for spells.”

“I’m well aware. I studied lots of spells, you know,” She snickers. “Even after Adrien passed away, all I did was read and read. All I could think about was reading more spells and mastering them. I’m not considered Ladybug for no reason, Chat. Handpicked by your own supposed ‘mother’. Surely you would’ve known the process, assuming she really is your mother?”

She didn’t mean to switch the conversation back to her, but Chat at least looks relaxed on his side of the couch, so she can’t feel too bad. “Oh, don’t worry. I remember it. My mom spent days reading over your ‘resume’. Went through your entire record. Every spell you’d performed, every spell you would perform in the future— she read all of it. Guess you were a good fit after all. I’m glad she picked you.”

Something in her slows down. Maybe she can entertain the idea that Chat Noir is telling the truth about his parents for a little while. “She really read all of it?”

“Extensively.” There’s a little twitch at the sides of his mouth, but he’s still playing for humor. “She leaves hell for months at a time and comes back with a scroll the size of the dining table. Reading it, pouring over it, practically ignoring me— her favorite son— for a piece of paper. Obviously she has work to do, I’m not actually blaming her. It was just a little funny to try to get my mom’s attention and she was distracted for the first time ever.”

“So she knows,” She frowns a little bit. “She knows about the miraculous cure that I’m— we— are going to attempt.”

“I’m sure she does.” Chat’s ears twitch as if he’s picking up on what she’s saying in between the lines. “I mean, she knows every spell you’ll ever cast, since you’re her prodigy. Just as my dad knows every spell I’ll ever cast, since I’m his. Although something tells me he’s never read any of it and just lets me go like a loose canon.”

The thought of literally taking a leash off of Chat Noir and him hopping through a portal funny enough that the frown on her face flickers. “Is Plagg really like that?”

“Sometimes. Hard to believe he’s my father figure, from the way he acts.” He snickers, but keeps his face as even as possible, trying to match her. “But he’s the one I spent most of my time with, and I know that he loves me. I couldn’t imagine being without a dad like that.”

The great Chat Noir. Friend, familiar, demon who owns her heart and soul, bonding with a god as old as time and calling him dad. It’s strange— most of it is, whenever he talks about his life away from the contract on his chest that binds him to the Earth for a little while longer. Does he miss home? His family? He’ll live for a long, long time— and gods don’t die— so it won’t be like he’s potentially missing out on seeing them again— but it’s the principle, isn’t it? Does he miss his home?

“What about Adrien? Was Adrien’s dad like that?”

She falters. “No. Gabriel was never kind to Adrien, even before the illness.”

“Oh.” There’s pain in Chat Noir’s diamond eyes. “I’m sorry for him.”

Adrien deserved to have a loving family, too.

“Adrien always chalked it up to grief. They’d lost his mother a year prior from me meeting him for the first time— it always sounded like that his mother passing away was the reason for the abuse. I don’t think his father visited Adrien once in the time that he’d been bedridden.”

“His father really did that to him?”

“It was horrible, but— yes. Like I said, Adrien would’ve been alone for most of that time if it weren’t for me. He told me that he never had the strength to eat anything anymore, he was so weak, but always made the exception to eat the lover-honey cookies I brought him. It helped that they were soft— there wasn’t a crunch to them. It was good on his decaying strength— I couldn’t show up without at least one. He deserved to feel love, if he couldn’t feel it from his own father.”

“He must’ve loved someone a lot.” Chat adds privately.

“I think he did,” She looks down to her hands. She smooths out her shift, just for something to do. “I think he really did.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The face he would make when eating it, my goodness— I wish I could’ve seen that face on him forever. We would play Princess and the Knight a lot— I was the knight, of course, who had to climb up Rapunzel’s tower via a tree outside his window in order to get to him— or to awaken the Sleeping Beauty from his sleep after slaying the dragon.”

“Of course,” He smiles.

“I’d use magic to create illusions of a beastly animal that I would slay— my illusions spells have never been as good as yours, but I think they did the job. In the end, I’d give him a piece of the lover-honey cookie in order to wake Sleeping Beauty up, and his face would just brighten so much.”

“Isn’t the legend that Sleeping Beauty is awoken by a kiss?” Chat’s face scrunches in quiet humor. “Or were you afraid of making it awkward?”

“We were children,” She muses, but a blush stains her cheeks. “I— I didn’t— we were friends. I loved him, I did— but I wasn’t going to push him to make a decision he couldn’t make while sick. He never said anything about it, either. Besides, the cookie was more than enough to get him to smile and be happy, even if it was for a little while— that was enough for me.”

“Was it?” There’s something painful in his eyes when she looks back up to him.

She fists her shift between her fingers.

“I prayed to Tikki every night. Begging her, pleading that she’d give me more time with him— I also begged her to let him have enough time to be able to tell the truth to the person he loved. Goodness, I even started to pray to Plagg, hoping for a miracle of some kind that he’d hear me. Imagine that, a little Ladybug praying to a different god, just in hopes for a miracle.”

“I don’t think he minded it.” Chat’s voice is soft. “He loves Tikki, after all. I don’t think he minded hearing a prayer from a Ladybug.”

“I— I knew that his sickness was incurable, I knew that— but— maybe he could find just a bit of happiness— if a god had just heard— maybe—”

“You did okay.” She glances back up to Chat with wide, watering eyes. She can’t see him from the amount of tears she’s producing— his fist and claws are so gentle around her wrists as he gently tries to pull her hands off her shift. “You did all you could, Marinette.”

“But it wasn’t enough—”

“Marinette—”

“Adrien— he— he never got the chance to tell them. Whoever it was— they never got to hear it. That’s why I want him back, Chat— I want him to get the chance to tell the person he loves the truth.” Her breath turns ragged, hard, aching in her chest. “This has never been about me wanting to tell him— that isn’t why I want him back. I want him to have the choice— I want Adrien to be able to live and breathe and be happy and never be in pain ever again. My friend didn’t deserve what happened to him. I never even got to say goodbye to him, Chat.”

“You did everything you could— and everything you did helped him.” At what point in the night had he gotten closer to her? Or had she moved on the couch closer to him without realizing? “Adrien knew that. He knew that you were doing your best. Spending time with you must’ve been the only thing he cared about, you know.”

Her cries break her voice. “I— I showed up one day. My bag was so full of Nino’s letters. So full of cookies.”

Why does he look at her with such sad eyes? “Princess. It’s okay.”

“He wasn’t there.” She squeezes her eyes shut to the point it hurts. “He’d— he’d passed away the night before, I think. Sunshine in a boy. Gone. His room was completely— completely empty.”

“Marinette,”

“He was— he— he was totally gone. His father never mentioned anything to any of us. There was nothing. No— no funeral— not even a word.”

The demonic seals on her earlobes burn bright and painful as she continues to cry, and she can’t help herself as she presses her face where she can see the same seal glowing on Chat Noir’s chest, bright enough to light up under his night shirt.

“It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.” His claws go through her unbound hair. “He’s going to be able to tell the person he loves. We’re going to get him to, I promise you. And you, my dearest little witch, are going to be able to tell him, too. I promise.”

His heartbeat is loud— gentle— soothing as she presses her ear onto his chest and listens, curling into his arms, tucking herself close as she cries.

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[harlot-of-oblivion]

The Devil’s In The Details

You're a detective of the Red Grave City P.D. investigating another strange murder when you find a possible break in the case.

After many months of daydreaming and planning, I'm finally starting a new series featuring Dante/Detective Reader! So, I hope you enjoy the first few chapters! 😘🥰

Warnings: Graphic depictions of a violent crime scenes and cursing.

Chapter 1: Another Day

Another day, another murder, you thought grimly as you arrive at the scene of what is assuredly another grisly crime.

It is early morning. The sun has barely peeked over the horizon, but that is not enough to deter several reporters from crowding around the police tape. You park your motorcycle just on the outskirts of the police barrier, assessing the best possible route to take around the crowd without drawing attention to yourself. A few bright flashes from a numerous camera makes you grumble under your breath as you hop off your ride. You straighten out your riding jacket and jeans before removing your helmet, flipping your hair back as you breath in the crisp morning air.

“Detective! Detective!”

“Is this at all related to the other murders around the city?”

“Does this mean we have a serial killer running rampant through our streets?”

“Detective, please! The citizens of Red Grave deserve some answers!”

The gaggle of clamoring news reporters and journalists greet your ears as you approach the police tape. You keep your head down and turn away from their prying eyes while you press forward, never slowing your pace as you forge ahead. And as soon as you get to the barrier, you quickly duck under and slip through before any of them can surround you with their mics and cameras.

A couple of officers rush forward to calm the crowd as you survey the scene before you: upscale house in the better part of town, no fence, and neighboring houses on either side of the home. You reach into the inside pocket of your jacket and pull out your glasses, quickly sliding them on before whipping out a small sketchbook. Your keen eyes scan around more thoroughly, looking for anything out of place as you walk up the long driveway.

The house looks like your typical suburban home: two stories of brick walls with the usual gothic architecture that is so common around this part of town. The lawn gets cut regularly and only a few stray dog toys sully its pristine state. And the garage is vast, big enough to hold two cars, but there is only one fancy sports car parked in there now.

You slide the pencil stored in the spiral spine of your sketchbook and begin to draw out all the possible inconsistencies you have observed thus far: stray dog toys means either no one’s been around to mow the lawn or that the owners do their own lawn work, the fact that the garage door is open strikes you as odd, and speaking of dog toys…your hand pauses as you double check for any sign of a doghouse in the yard before looking back in the garage, searching for anything might serves as a dog bed.    

Hmm…could be an inside dog, you ponder, squinting at your rough drawing of a dog toy that does seem to be quite small. You make a quick note about it by the sketch before moving on, drawing a car with a question mark beside it and a note about the whereabouts of the other car. When you are finished with your preliminary observation, you reach back into your pocket for a pair of rubber gloves and hurriedly slip them as you approach a group of officers waiting by the entrance.  

“Good Morning, Detective.”

The officer that greets you at the door is Tyrell Reed if you remember correctly. “Morning,” you mutter back with a nod of your head before following him past his fellow officers through the front entrance of the house. You take in your surroundings, noting that the entrance hall is quaint but still holds an air of old-fashioned wealth. After a few more quick glances over at the side rooms you ask what your colleagues refer to as the universal code for what crazy shit are we dealing with today? in the language of law enforcement.

“What have we got here, Officer?”  

“Same shit, different body.”

You chuckle dryly at his matter-of-fact reply before getting down to business. “Victim’s name?”  

“Giles Harmon. The husband of Mabel Harmon.”

You scribble down both names on a fresh page of your sketchbook. “And where is our newly widowed wife?” you ask while glancing down at your drawing of the sports car.

“A few of the neighbors saw her leave in the middle of night about a week ago, which just so happens to be how long the victim has been lying here dead.”

“Did they say whether or not she drove away in a car?” you question, looking up at the officer over the frames of your glasses. He nods and you quickly jot down that detail by the appropriate sketch before moving onto the next question. “Any kids?”

“One. A son. He goes by Paul and he’s a student over at RGU. He’s also the one who found the body, so he’s currently being held down at the station for questioning.”

“Excellent! What about the dog?”

“Dog?” Officer Reed’s brow furrows. “What dog?”

You flash him your drawing of the stray dog toys. “There’s evidence in the yard that points to them owning at least one dog,” you inform patiently before firing away with follow up questions. “Did you or any of the other officers first at the scene see or hear anything that may have been a dog?”

“Hold on a sec.” Officer Reed excuses himself and peeks his head out the front door. You hear him ask the officers your question and a variety of murmurings before he turns back to you. “No, ma’am. None of us heard no barking, but one of the boys did see some bowls on the kitchen floor.”

“Did any of the neighbors mention hearing a dog bark when Mrs. Harmon left?”

Officer Reed shakes his head. “Not that I recall, but I’ll be sure to send you their statements.”

“Did you see the son with a dog by chance?”

He shakes his head again. “Nope. I saw him myself as he was being escorted from the scene. He wasn’t holding a dog and there wasn’t a dog following after him either.”

“Alright,” you nod, finishing off the last of your notes by the dog toy sketch. “I’ll take it from here, Officer.”

“No problem, Detective. I’ll get outta your way and let ya do your thing.”  

Officer Reed tips his hat and heads back outside, leaving you to explore the rest of the house at your leisure. You head towards the kitchen, passing through what looks to be the dining room on the way there. Your eyes instantly spot the bowls previously mentioned on the floor by the end of a countertop. When you go over to inspect them, you see one is filled with water while the other is full of brown chunky pellets that look like your typical dog food. You bend down and pick up a pellet and give it a sniff, confirming that it is indeed dog food before making note of it in your sketchbook.

Your eyes flicker over and pause at the sight of a door. If I am not mistaken…that must lead to the garage, you surmise, slowly rising to your feet as you take note of a mat and a wooden key holder by the door. Multiple pairs of shoes are lined up across the mat, ranging from high heels and loafers to muddy sneakers and running shoes. You flip a page in your sketchbook and begin to draw, taking great care to detail the perfect formation shoes as well as the obvious gap in the middle of the mat…which could have possibly been the pair of shoes Mrs. Harmon put on before fleeing the scene.  

As soon as you are done sketching the missing pair of shoes, you glance over to the key holder and instantly notice an empty hook. You look closely at the other hooks, noting the pair of keys that belong with the sports car in the garage along with a couple of other mysterious keys. One of them looks like a key to a lawnmower while the other may be a key to a lock box or a safe. You quickly correct your previous note about the possibility of having hired help to at least not having it for lawncare before taking out a spare evidence bag. You carefully unhook the mystery key and drop it into the bag, making sure it is sealed properly before finishing up in the kitchen.  

You open a few drawers and cabinets, casually searching until you find a bag of name brand dog food in a nearby cupboard. The label boasts about being the best dog food on the market for small breeds, confirming your assumption from earlier when you first arrived. You quickly write that detail down and take one last hard look at the whole kitchen, letting what you have discovered so far tell their tale of what happened the night of the murder. All the little details fall into place and form an incomplete picture, but you can still glean some information from what you have gathered thus far:

The numerous pairs of shoes on the mat show no sign of being shoved out of place, which could mean the suspect felt no sense of urgency as they fled the scene. There is evidence that they owned a dog, but it either ran away or it’s hiding somewhere in the house…or perhaps a victim as well. And if it turns out that the latter is true, then the murder may not be the result a lover’s quarrel gone wrong.

The picture in your mind looks more like a preliminary drawing, but you remind yourself that even the best works of art take time to complete.

You check out the other rooms on the bottom floor only to find more evidence of this family’s luxurious wealth in the form of expensive paintings and furniture. Once again you see no evidence of a rushed exit, but that could simply be because the suspect did not have to enter most of the rooms on the way to the garage. You head back to the entrance hall and climb up the stairs to the second floor. The sight of more police tape blocking entry into one of the rooms tells you that is where you will find the body of the victim as well as the crime scene analyst scouring every inch of that room for crucial evidence.

Before you head in there for a quick debriefing, you take a quick peek into the other rooms and immediately deduce that the scene of crime happens to also be the bedroom.  You also take note of just how spotless each room appears to be, which may add more credence to this being premeditative murder. Easy there…don’t wanna jump the gun so soon, you mentally reprimand while nodding at the two officers on guard outside of the bedroom. You squeeze through a large gap in the police tape and your eyes instantly spot a most grisly sight.

Mr. Harmon is lying face up on the bloodstained carpet, dead vacant eyes staring up at the ceiling. You turn to a fresh page in your sketchbook and get to work mapping this horrid scene. The bed sits in the center of the room against the wall and the sheets are all rumpled. One of four pillows is on the floor while the others are strewn across the bed. The victim’s body is lying a couple of feet away from the foot of the bed and he appears to be wearing white cotton pajamas with a baseball theme pattern. Besides the messy bed and dead body, nothing else seems remotely out of place on first inspection. But that just means you need a closer look to add more detail to the sketch forming in your mind.

You draw out some final details before walking across the room towards Carmen Torres, the crime scene analyst currently snapping pictures of the victim. Both of you started out in Red Grave P.D. at the same time and have formed an amicable relationship over the past few years. She does not seem to mind your more serious and sometimes snarky attitude while you tolerate her eccentricities since behind her quirkiness lies a brilliant forensic mind. Plus, you enjoy her attempts at lightening the mood with cheery conversation while poking around a dead body.

The rotten stench of decay wafts under your nose before you can call out to get her attention, causing you to wrinkle your nose as you cough in disgust. Carmen looks back over her shoulder and flashes you a sunny smile. “Good morning, Quickdraw!” she greets, using her fond nickname for you despite all your vehement protests.

“There’s nothing good about it, San Diego,” you retort with a roll of your eyes while waving your hand in front of your face. “But I guess good morning to you too.”

“I see you’re as chipper as always,” Carmen jests as she reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a jar of what she refers to as miracle smelly cream before tossing it your way.

“I’ll be a dazzling ray of sunshine as soon as I get some coffee,” you chortle while catching the jar. You unscrew the cap, scoop a small amount of its contents onto your finger, and smear it beneath your nose. When you give a test sniff to see that the stench is no longer as strong you screw the cap back and toss the jar back to her. “But until then…” you trail off, taking one last look around the bedroom. Carmen waits patiently for you to continue, already aware that this is just part of your investigative routine from all the other times you have worked together. You glance through your sketchbook one last time before asking the age-old universal code once more:

“What have we got here?”

“A little variety for one thing!” Carmen exclaims as she takes a few steps closer to the body. “Not every day that we see the wife beating the shit of her husband before finishing them off!”

“True,” you admit with a tilt of your head. “Domestic violence where the woman is the abuser is not as common, but it still happens.” You follow her and crouch down over the body for closer inspection. Despite being dead, Mr. Harmon’s expression seems quite indifferent to his current state. Multiple injuries mare his face, neck, and chest, indicating that there was physical altercation before his untimely demise. It all points to a classic case of domestic abuse, but all the bruises you see are still black and blue.

“Did you happen to find any more bruises that are older?”

Carmen’s face scrunches up as she ponders your question before answering. “Uhhhh nope. I’ll make a note of it for the medical examiner…Oh!” She sets the camera down on the floor before scooting closer to the head of the body. “You’re gonna love this!” she declares with a confident grin. “As you can see, there’s a real nasty contusion on his head, which could’ve been the cause of death,” she informs while pointing to a bloody spot by the victim’s temple before continuing, “but there’s just one problem with that theory.”

You reach over and examine the wound with your gloved hand, feeling around the injury before looking back at her. “Not even a dent or crack in the skull,” you conclude softly, adding it to your mental sketch of the crime.

Carmen nods excitedly. “Exactly! So maybe he died from blunt force trauma to the head, but we won’t know for sure until the autopsy.” She picks up her camera and switches lenses before snapping a few detailed shots of the injury as she continues. “If anything, I’d say he suffered from a concussion. And if that’s the case, then it’s possible that it played a part in his death. Well, that and the loss of blood.”

“Hmm…seems plausible,” you murmur more to yourself as you withdraw your hand. “Miss Murder beats him up, he falls unconscious, and she probably runs away thinking that he’s dead.” You hold your sketchbook in your lap while you take out another rubber glove to replace the one now sullied with blood. As you carefully pull off the glove and slip a clean one on, you think about the recent cases yet to be solved. None of them are related in terms of how the crime itself happened, but there is one tiny physical detail that connects them. The more you think about it, the more you start to get a hunch that so far has never let you down.

“Is there any indication that he may have been paralyzed?”

Carmen pauses her photo session. “Uhhhh besides getting smacked aside the head? No, not really.” She removes the camera from her face and stares up at the ceiling in thought. “It’s possible that his spinal cord could’ve been hit during the beating, but I dunno if Miss Murder could’ve pull that off.” She turns her head and meets your contemplative gaze. “Ooooh! Are ya getting’ one of your Quickdraw hunches?” she guesses eagerly, eyes growing wide as she leans over in anticipation of your explanation.  

You grunt in mild annoyance before indulging her curiosity. “Let’s look at his hands and arms.”

Both of you lift a hand from where you are crouching and push back the sleeve of his pajamas down to the elbow. You splay the victim’s arm out onto the floor and begin to draw out your findings in the sketchbook. The inside of his palm is a bit calloused, perhaps from doing his own yard work, but the rest of his hand is smooth and free from any kind of blemish. You note that Carmen is examining the left hand and that a gold band is around his ring finger. His arm has a sprinkling of freckles among coarse hair as well as some muscle. And again, there are no blemishes of any kind…no cuts, no bruises, no injuries whatsoever.    

“No sign of defensive wounds,” Carmen mumbles in awe under her breath.

“It’s human instinct to defend yourself,” you chime in absentmindedly while you make note of your discovery by the depiction of the corpse in your sketchbook. “We still put up a fight even if it seems hopeless.”

You grow quiet as distant memories bubble up from the back of your mind, but you suppress the hurtful images as you reach over and pull the collar of the pajamas away from the victim’s neck. All you see are more bruises and no other injuries, so you follow your gut instinct and move onto to inspect his chest. You peek under the pajama top and see something odd just under his left pectoral. Your fingers make quick work of the buttons on the pajama top and you flick it off his chest for better inspection. And just as you expected, there is a small puncture wound that looks terribly like the other previous murders that have cropped up recently.  

“Oh shit!” Carmen gasps as she fumbles for her analyst kit. “I didn’t think about-”

“It’s okay,” you reassure while the corners of your lips quirk into your first smile of the day. “Nobody would’ve expected you to search for injection wounds since-”

“He has obvious signs of blunt force trauma to the head,” Carmen finishes your sentence as she takes out a couple of DNA swabs and tubes. “Do you think this is connected to the other murders? Or is this just one big coincidence?” she asks, quickly catching onto your hunch while you put a big circle around the puncture on your drawing.

“Don’t wanna jump to conclusions just yet,” you respond calmly while readjusting your glasses with the pencil. “Not until we perform an autopsy,” you tack on while Carmen gives you a knowing smirk. You stand back up and flip through your sketchbook, intending to ask her about the missing dog and if she came across a safe in the bedroom, but the sudden ringing of your phone interrupts your train of thought.

You shuffle the sketchbook in your arms, carefully trying to remove the rubber glove from one hand. Carmen watches you for a bit while you struggle before offering to slip the glove off for you when an annoyed huff leaves your lips. As soon as your hand is free from its protective barrier, you pull out your cellphone to see who is disturbing your investigation. “Huh…speak of the devil,” you mumble, seeing the name of the medical examiner before swiping the screen to answer.

“Hello?”

“Detective!” he greets you back enthusiastically. “I finally have the test results you wanted!”

“Excellent!” you exclaim while closing your sketchbook. “Mind if I swing by your office?”

“Oh gods yes! Please!”

You hear the definite sound of worry within his pleading voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, everything is fine! It’s just uh,” he pauses for a moment. “It’d probably be better if I just explain it to you in person.”

“Alright. I’ll head on over shortly,” you reply, arching a brow at his curious behavior, but you are not too surprised since he is known for being a little paranoid at times.

“Very good, Detective,” he sighs in relief. “See you then!”

When the end of the line cuts off, you check the time on your phone before slipping it back into your pocket. “You got a break in the case?” Carmen asks inquisitively as she snaps a few more close ups of the body.

“I sure fucking hope so,” you grumble morosely, “or else the Lieutenant will have my ass for leaving so soon.” You take out the evidence bag with the mysterious key. “I found this hanging on a key holder in the kitchen. Looks like it can open a safe or a lock box. Have you-”

“Nope, but I’m not quite done here,” she quickly answers while taking the bag from your grasp. “I’ll keep my eyes open for it though.”

You nod. “Also, have you seen any sign of their dog in the house?”

Carmen shakes her head. “No…but I did collect some small fibers from the bedsheets that could’ve been dog hair. Now get outta here!” She gestures towards the door with her head. “And don’t worry, I’ll cover for ya,” she reassures with a friendly smile. “It did sound like Graves was a little spooked by something…well, more so than usual.”

“Yeah,” you murmur while stuffing your gloveless hand into your jacket pocket. “Don’t know what that’s about.”

“Maybe…” she trails off in thought before her eyes suddenly grow wide. “One of the body’s came to life and confessed their love to him!”

“Oh my god,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling as she expands her ridiculous speculation.

“And he, so overtaken by their confession of undying love, asked them to be their lawfully wedded zombie!”

“Okay! I’m leaving now,” you announce with an indignant huff while walking towards the exit, glancing over your shoulder at the very exhilarated crime scene analyst.

“Aww!!! He probably wants to ask you to be his best woman at the undead wedding!”

“See ya, San Diego!” you bark back with a half-hearted wave of your sketchbook before rushing out of the bedroom, shaking your head in exasperation at her facetious claims while climbing down the stairs.

You remove the other rubber glove and your glasses as you head out the front door. The officers standing outside bid you farewell as you make your way down the long driveway, steeling yourself with every step as the clamor of news reporters rings out in the morning air. You are once again bombarded with various questions as you cross under the police tape. Your eyes narrow as you walk up to your motorcycle, which is currently surrounded by a small group of journalists from the local newspaper.

Damn press! you seethe, but their presence is not enough to stop you from blocking their incessant inquiries by putting on your helmet before mounting your ride. The group spreads out and tries to block your only exit, but you call their buff by revving your engine a couple of times in warning. They all jump back at the blaring purr of the bike, giving you an opening to take off from the crime scene with a loud roar.

Another day, another murder…but I’m also another day closer to solving this case, you resolve with a determined grin while turning down the road towards your next destination.

Read Chapter 2

My Ao3

My Masterlist if you want more 💖 

Tagging: @bettybattaglia @drusoona and @exsultry

[lucidpantone]

Wtfock Fanfic Recommends

Hey there Fockers (see what I did  🙊)

I am doing this genre first because haters are gonna hate and I just want to dispel all the negative connotations now and sage all the bad vibes out of the tag because god knows we need to sage our household aka the wtfock/wtfam tag. Be gone, bad spirits (and before I get hate I am not talking about those critiquing the poor behavior of the tag am talking about those throwing around the “f” word when it’s not even the right word to use in this context). If you want to find out what is the right word please read this insanely articulate post from Skamsnake about the creative process around explicit fic writing.

Okay, take a seat and let's get lost in the sauce.

Let’s chit chat about some real shit. Those damn written words that are keeping us hydrated during the Wtfock drought.

**Update: Going forward I will be rating my reviews via the MPA(USA) filming rating system out. However please take in mind I am no expert and culture matters. I may be being overly cautious but the genre that follows is rated NC-17 in its entirety. **

Fanfic Genre: Erotica/New Adult fiction Tagged under Explicit in Ao3 (or known by its street name: smut) Fic count AOT (as of today): 62

Genre Definition (provided by wikipedia): Fiction similar to YA that can be published and marketed as adult—a sort of an 'older YA' or 'new adult. New adult fiction tends to focus on issues such as leaving home, developing sexuality, and negotiating education and career choices.

This tag barely makes it out of the 20’s without these next four writers so we need to put some respect on their names and spotlight their “best of”.

Skamtrash/ @vearthling (14 MotherFing fics)

Your catalog is so damn extensive its hard to choose but I have to go with my personal fav because am a sucker for an aged up celebrity rock star Sander falling in love with a dark hair boy amongst the crowd. We got plot, romance, a hot and steamy recording session. It's fluffy smut but also kinda of romantic. This one is my personal fav.

Ok and since the crowd has clearly spoken on Ao3 if you want something that puts the E in explicit and has 10k hits, check out this fic. I actually like this work too mainly because it has a pretty endearing follow-up with Milan and Jens/Aaron just embarrassing Robbe after a not so discreet quickie session during the Wtfock Xmas party.

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JesseLBlack (Double digit Spanish fic Queen)

I am so excited to shout out this dark horse. She is such a machine and an absolutely amazing writer even though all her work is in Spanish. I just want people to appreciate her contributions. If you can read spanish and enjoy a good sneaking around session while the parents are at home this is the one for you.

Also I have no idea how this woman found my kink but she did and that's good punctuation especially in Spanish. Like just stop it, my eyes can’t take seeing so many virgulilla used properly in written form. I felt attacked.

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Zaddy Skam/ @zaddyskam

If you haven’t connected the dots yet Zaddy is our long time Anonymous contributor to the Ao3 tag. This fic selection may seem like a random choice but I enjoy Zaddy first fic the most Woensdag 16:36.

If you’re a sucker for an in canon fic that creates a little more narrative and fills in the gaps to the original story then this is the fic for you. Plus I like that it's not super smutty mainly because it shows control and range. Its easy to reach for the usual tropes in explicit fics but this fic really turns this genre on its head with suggestive erotica then presenting the actual act itself. Its just really well crafted and also gives an option to those who want a little erotica but don’t want to dive deep into the pool.

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SkamSnake/ @skamsnake (A legend amongst legends and one half of what inspired the infamous Dinsdag 14:17)

I mean what can be said when the actual wtfock writers are adopting your own ideas into their content. You gotta be doing something right. Here is it what I believe is one half of what I feel inspired parts of Dinsdag 14:17.

FYI: Snakes Omega fic counts under the ABO tag and will be discussed when I get to adoptive “world” fics.

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Tokyometropolis/ @luludemauryyy  (The other half of what inspired the infamous Dinsdag 14:17)

Video phone is almost eerie to read now having seen Dinsdag 14:17 & Dinsdag 23:12. They are parts of video phone that I literally feel were ripped out of the fic and put onto screen even some dialogue quirks are recognizable. Its a huge testament to the skill of this fic. Also, I truly believe the 2nd chapter of this fic is some of this writer's best fic writing. I see a ton of rhythm and play with cadence and that angsty tonality. I can’t rave enough about video phone chapter 2 its so well thought out. Give it a read and let me know what you think wtfock borrowed out of this fic for the big screen.

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Midsummernightoddity

I mean is it smut? or is it just excessive fluff while making love? I think the latter. If you want gooey I mean chocolate syrup style love making gooey this is your baby. It’s Robbe’s first time and it’s wrapped up in a ton of emotions. I enjoyed it and definitely made me get a little teary it was so damn sweet. If you love, love, then this is your fic.

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IcedWhiteMocha

They gave us one fic and one fic only but damn they did give us a good one. Are you a slave to in-canon writing? Ever wonder what happened in that 3 hour time slot in the infamous hotel from when Sander and Robbe entered the hotel room till the shower scene, well this fic will fill in all the blanks.

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Shout Outs (IMO)

Two strangers at a party catching one another’s gaze from across the room: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22383466/chapters/53478205 by fockinglevendcliche/ @fockinglevendcliche

Tales from Quarantine: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022276 by UndercoverTimeagent

Announcement: We need more zoenne erotica someone write some please!

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Special thanks and acknowledgments to Hollyster, Sassywarlock29, sote faen, angelboygabriel and joshlerbitches. Also if anyone reads russian please send me a couple of words on this fic. If I missed anyone am sorry and up next I think I will do “worlds” fics so HP, ABO,Magic,time travel etc etc or I will do one shot enemies to lovers (chaptered Enemies to lovers will be its own thing). Let me know what tag you want more information on.

[harryandhishook]

Don’t touch what isn’t yours! - Chapter 1

Fandom: Dream Daddy

Pairing: Damien x Robert

Setting: Maple Bay

Warning: Mentions of smut, Damien’s genitalia referred to as male, nothing much for this chapter

Summary: Damien has been dating Robert for a while and their life is becoming slowly more and more domestic but unfortunately, someone has been watching and doesn’t like it one bit.

Words: 1618

Requested: I remember seeing an old posts about some really dark prompts and I thought about the cult ending of Dream Daddy so I jumped at the chance ... then got really carried away (Btw, I wanted to contribute to the cult ending stuff so don’t @ me for this, normally I wouldn’t write Joseph like this)

Side note: This is a story I have completed and if it wasn’t for an anon jumping into my asks to see if I was okay then I would have waited longer to post this. Sorry for the absence for this time but everythings just piling up and I rarely get much time to myself if I’m not doing uni work (Which I graduated :D but I’m going onto a masters) or doing normal adult survival stuff so I hope this is okay.

First // Prev // Next

Perfect, everything was perfect, Damien had a perfect house, a perfect, if somewhat moody, son and a perfect, if slightly dysfunctional, boyfriend, everything was perfect … Maybe not perfect but close enough.

The bright morning light filtered through the curtains, flowing over the beautiful dark coloured carpet and slithering up to drape across the two lumps underneath the red silk sheets adorning the four-poster bed. Soft sounds of snoring filled the room as two men embraced as if their lives depended on it, one gruff and rugged while the other delicate and soft, complete opposites but fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw, maybe not the exact same picture but they go together nevertheless. Nothing could ruin the morning, nothing could interrupt their moment of bliss, nothing at all, except an alarm.

The blaring of Damien’s phone alarm caused the two men to stir, groaning from the rude awakening as the long haired prince of darkness sat up, his hair ruffled and tangled, the obviously two sizes too big, red V-neck shirt hanging off his shoulder as he looked around, his eyes still drooping while he observes the room, trying to get his brain into gear.

Moments of tiredly debating the inevitable wake up and letting his alarm play, Damien finally groggily reached over to his oak nightstand, swiping the screen and silencing the obnoxious disturbance. His hand shuffled around the wood, pushing his phone out of the way to grab his glasses and place them on his face.

Looking around, after giving himself the ability to see, he spotted something that quickly pulled a small smile across his face. Laying on the floor nearby the end of the bed was Roberts black leather jacket.

With a deep breath and his bottom lip between his teeth, the Victorian man carefully shuffled across the silk fabric of his bed, his bare legs slipping out of the covers and over the edge. Once his foot made connection to the fluffy carpeted floor, Damien peered over his shoulder to make sure that his other half was still deep in his slumber before finally pushing himself up.

Tiptoeing across the room, he carefully took the article of clothing in his hands, making sure that no noise could rouse his sleeping lover before slowly pulling the coat over his arms and holding it close to his body. The fading smell of Alcohol and Robert’s musk bombarded Damien’s nose causing the gothic dad to moan in happiness, letting a shiver course down his spine at the familiar aroma giving him a little boost for the day.

While Robert continued to sleep, Damien decided to get ready for the day. Looking over at the dark drawn curtains, he decided against letting the warm sun light up the room, his boudoir was dark but his lover was still asleep and he wouldn’t want to disturb that so he used the small amount of light flowing past the gaps to find his vanity, taking his ornate carved brush in between his long slender fingers and carefully pulling through his long black hair, luckily, the knots weren’t too bad after … last nights adventures … but still enough to make him wince. The Victorian decided to distract himself from the slight pain in his roots by reminiscing, well, more dreaming about Robert, thinking about their romance, thinking about their late-night escapades, thinking about Roberts hands, about his ruff voice about his…

He had not realised just how distracted he had gotten until he felt two strong arms wrap around his body from behind as some prickly stubble grazed his neck and a breathy deep voice whispered in his ear,

“Morning, love” another shiver shot down Damien’s spine as he squeaked from the sudden appearance of his lover, quickly he turned his head, hair swishing over his shoulder as he came face to face with the man he was fantasising about a moment ago,

“Robert, I didn’t hear you get up, darling, how, erm, how long have you been awake?” the goth asked softly, a slight nervousness laced in his voice as he realized just what state of dress he was in, Roberts shirt, Roberts Jacket and nothing else, he was practically naked. His thoughts were interrupted by a low gravelly chuckle,

“Long enough to watch you practically drool over me” he smirked as he wrapped one arm under Damien’s legs, lifting him off the chair so he could sit down, placing the man onto his lap instead, “I woke up just in time to see you smell my jacket” he whispered with an underlining tone of lust but to Damien, he could also hear the love emanating from his voice.

The Victorian squeaked softly and quickly pushed his face into the crook of Rob’s neck, hiding his obvious blush, even in such a dark room, anyone could see the bright crimson gracing over the softer mans face,

“I-I wasn’t smelling it, I was just … reminding myself of your scent, there’s a difference, my dear” Damien argued back, his voice muffled by Robert’s tanned skin, unfortunately the sound of his phone vibrating with notifications stopped him from just hiding under the safety of his bed sheets, “I think my cellular is definitely taking away the aesthetic of my lifestyle” he chuckled softly, peeking out from his little safe spot, moving his gaze as best as he could to see that his lover was staring lovingly down at him,

“I think you wearing my leather is definitely taking away from the look … but it suits you, makes you look a little … rebellious” he smirked as his eyes seemed to move over every inch of the Victorians body until they stopped, Damien watched curiously, following his gaze until he saw exactly what he was staring at.

With a gasp, Damien pulled the red shirt down his legs further, keeping anything out of view as he tried to keep himself composed, unfortunately, the damage had been done and Robert now had the image of Damien’s long, slender legs nestled over his as the red shirt crumpled up his body and revealed … a little too much of his body,

“Robert, as much as a part of me would love to recreate the events of last night, I’m afraid I am under dressed for the day and you must remember, some of us must leave the home for our place of work, so I really do need to go and bathe before Lucien awakens so I can at least provide him breakfast” he tried to argue but it got harder and harder to want to when he felt the familiar feeling of large, rough hands creeping up the inside of his thigh, “a-as I already seemed to h-have wasted some time, my morning bathe will need to be cut shorter t-than usual” he stuttered out, feeling Robert’s hand push past his and under the red shirt, creeping closer and closer to his little treasure, “I n-need to make breakfast a-and make sure I have e-everything and … R-Robert...” he partially moaned out as he felt the fingers of his lover touch the crease connecting his thigh and something that was still quite sensitive, “I-I need t-to get r-ready and I’m already s-sensitive enough a-as it is…” he whispered in the other man’s ear, his breathless argument only made Robert smirk more, his fingers dangerously close to his prize,

“You always seem to give yourself a good few hours and never use it all in actually getting ready, so a little fun before you do get ready shouldn’t be too bad and anyway” Robert’s thumb and forefinger wrapped around Damien’s little dick, rubbing gently, “how about, to help you save time and not have to rush, I join you in the shower?” he asked with the biggest shit eating grin on his face as he watched Damien’s expression change to sheer pleasure, he took it as a win. Earning a whine from the goth as he removed his hand, his arms once again snaking underneath Damien’s legs but this time it was to carry the softer man into the en suite bathroom, spending the next half hour giving Damien a reason to think about him all day … and probably giving Lucien a wake up call.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch, Damien managed to get ready for work in time, breakfast was made with enough time to spare for both him and Lucien since the boy still had school and even though he refused to look either his father or Robert in the eye, probably from the inappropriate wake up call, he gave them a smile before he left. Damien and Robert kissed each other goodbye as they left to go their separate ways with a promise of meeting up again after the Victorian came back from his probably quite exhausting job and that was how the day went.

Finally, when the end of the day came, Lucien was first home like always, stomping to his room to play his obnoxiously loud music, Robert decided it was around time to head over to wait for his lover and also be uncharacteristically nice enough to start dinner for them all to give Damien a little break and once the man in question was home, Robert was there waiting by the door, bouquet of flowers in hand and a warm smile on his face.

However, unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyes were watching them from a distance, a pair of dark, hate filled eyes, glaring at them both while hatching a plan for them because if someone were to have Robert, it wasn’t going to be Damien.

[fangirl-ramblings]

oh yay i love your prompts! could you please do misc 3. with javier and a gender neutral reader, i was thinking like a post guarma situation but i'll be happy with anything you come up with!

I loved this idea as soon as it popped into my askbox, and I knew straight away how I wanted to start and end this story. (The middle took a bit of working on, but we won’t dwell on that😂) I also need to give a huge thank you sweet anon for being so patient - I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it

Misc. #3 -  “ I told you I wouldn’t be long”

Javier Escuella x g/n reader

Notes: Angst & Worry + Major Spoilers for Chapter 4 & 5

“We won’t be long, mi amor” Javier had told you as he saddled up Boaz 

“You promise?” you pleaded, leaning in for a kiss. Grabbing you by the waist, pulling you as close as possible to him, Javier brushed his lips against yours, whispering softly 

“For you, mi razón para vivir, I’d promise the world and find a way to give it to you”

That was the last conversation you’d had with your lover, just a little over a week ago - before your life was turned completely upside down.

Within 24 hours, you’d discovered that the bank job that Javier & the other boys had travelled to Saint Dennis for was a total bust. And while Abigail & Charles had somehow managed to escape and get back to Shady Belle, the rest weren’t so lucky. There were gasps around camp as Charles explained how the Pinkertons had surrounded the bank and used a captured Hosea as leverage, before shooting him and leaving him for dead in the street. Those inside the bank had apparently fought hard to escape, but somehow John had been caught and young Lenny was mowed down as they ran across the city’s roofs. As far as Charles knew, he had left the surviving men at the docks of Saint Denis, where they were trying to board a ship, but having sacrificed himself to save them, he didn’t know if they made it or if they did, where they were headed. 

All of this devastating news almost brought the camp to stand still. It was only due to the quick thinking of Sadie, that it was agreed that she & Charles should hunt for a new camp while everybody else stayed to quickly pack up.

That’s where you were now, alongside a dozen or so of fellow campmates, cramped into a small shack in the middle of the swamps in a place known as Lakay.

“Do you think they’ll know where to find us?” you’d asked some of the others as you helped Pearson prepare the stew.

“That’s if they make it back” Karen slurred as she stumbled past you.

Sadie shot her look before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder “I’ve left a few messages in different locations for “Old Uncle Tactitus” from his “dear niece Caroline’ “ she explained, “Hopefully they’ll manage work it out”

Abigail agreed taking your hand in her own “Don’t worry, you’ll soon have your Javier back & then we can work on getting my John”

You nodded hoping what she said was true. It was bad enough knowing Javier was out there somewhere, but the thought of never looking deep into those deep brown eyes again was almost too much for you to bear. Shaking the unpleasant thoughts out of your head, you picked up a bowl of stew and headed into the hut with it

Pearson’s food was never the tastiest, but when your heart is hurting and morale is at an all time low, no food would ever be able to fill the gap in your soul. Pushing your spoon around the dish, but unable to bring yourself to eat any of it, you were suddenly distracted by the door flying open.

“Well, well – I hope you all missed me” Micah bellowed, announcing his return as he sauntered through the door.

Everybody’s attention was quickly drawn to the blonde man and he was met with a barrage of questions

“Are the others okay?

“Are they with you?”

“Where have you been?”

“Settle down, settle down. They’ll be here soon enough, we just thought it would safer if arrived separately, that’s all” He sat down on an empty chair looking at his captive audience. “Now I’m willing to tell you all about our little adventures, but it would be nice if somebody was to get me a drink first”. As Mary-Beth reluctantly stood up to go fetch a bottle of beer, you took the opportunity to approach Micah.

“Tell me is Javier..?”

“Lover boy is fine” he sneered “well apart from taking a bullet to the leg & being captured by some Cubans, or whoever they were.”

Those words and the way he so casually mentioned it to you, made it feel like you had just taken a shot to the stomach “What?..how..?”

“I’ll tell you soon enough, now where the hell is that drink I asked for?” He yelled brushing you off. “Now listen up everybody ‘cause old Uncle Micah has a story you all will wanna hear”

You sat down to listen to what Micah said, but you struggled to take it all in. The only thing you remember is even though the others had left Javier behind, somehow Dutch had managed to find and save him, though he could barely walk. The thought crossed your mind, he was struggling to walk - how was going to be able to make it back to camp? To you?

As Micah continued his tale, you found yourself wanting to be alone and so headed to find an empty corner to lay your head down and tried to fall asleep, but of course it was no use. Everytime you closed your eyes you had visions of what Micah had spoke about, poor Javier being shot at, being left behind by his friends, or being trapped in some cage not knowing if anybody would come for him. Despite all of the nightmares, you must have exhausted yourself and somehow fell asleep at one point in the night, as you woke the next morning with the sun beaming it rays through the window directly on to you. You shifted slightly, only to be surprised to find a toned arm wrapped around your waist. Looking over your shoulder you smiled as you saw a familiar body snuggled against your own. Rubbing your eyes in disbelief, before you finally came to your senses & realised this wasn’t a dream, Javier leaned forward to kiss your cheek softly, whispering “Hola mi cariño, I told you I wouldn’t be long” 

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Moth Work + Optical Illusion | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

I’m finally back to share an update for the next two chapters of MOTH WORK (which I intro’d HERE). I’ve been having a pretty bad health week so I’ve been a bit of a blob lol and it’s made it difficult to put out content for you! However, we back for now and I’m excited to talk about these chapters. If you missed the previous update I’d suggest starting there first since it has all the details about the overall story!

What’s it about? 

Chapter two is the project’s title chapter, and also the chapter where the boys are actually! on! a! boat! It starts a few minutes after chapter one when the boys dock their canoe. Lonan spontaneously decides to go swimming and Harrison’s reaction looks something like: lol ok. He joins him and Lonan quickly starts an existential rant about the illusory nature of God and that’s where the chapter gets most of its direction. The entire thing takes place in the water, which was fun! I don’t write many water scenes and I find I find them a lot of fun.

The writing bit: 

I can’t really say anything specific about the drafting process for this chapter because I wrote it a few months ago (maybe May?), but I do remember it being *peak* drafting for this story. I feel like I haven’t had this ease with drafting since writing this chapter. 

Playlist:

I really tried not to be NBT biased but (my cult):

Tempt You (Evocatio) by Nothing But Thieves

I Was Just A Kid by Nothing But Thieves

Gods by Nothing But Thieves

I don’t have any excerpts for this chapter because I don’t think any of it is excerptable lmao even where I title drop. Which means we move onto chapter three, Optical Illusion:

What’s it about?

This chapter is thiccc and filled with so much tea?? It starts as a continuation of the previous chapter and then a mini resolution of the relational tension when Harrison gets his ear pierced and Lonan enters crisis mode when he thinks he sees his father’s ghost. A lot of this chapter is summary to fill in gaps which is also why it’s so busy. It’s called Optical Illusion for the most *symbolic* reasons as things appear to look up for the boys (fake news) and Lonan insists he’s seeing his dead father lol. I wanted to initially call chapter two Optical Illusion because of the heavy God rant Lonan goes on but I think it makes more sense for this chapter!

The writing bit:

This chapter has so many alternate endings! I got it wrong so many times before eventually settling with what I did. Originally I wrote in an on-page resolution of conflict (a few times) but then scrapped that entirely, then wrote a few more potential directions, found one I liked, and then followed more endings until I eventually landed on one. I think this is probably because I wrote a lot of this during school in multiple spaced out settings so I lost my train of thought quite a bit. We finally get some on-page vulnerability from Lonan at the end which is like the first time that’s happened in years lmao. 

Playlist:

I Was Just A Kid by Nothing But Thieves

Graveyard Whistling by Nothing But Thieves

Emergency by Nothing But Thieves

Lover, Please Stay by Nothing But Thieves

Hell, Yeah by Nothing But Thieves

Afterlife by Nothing But Thieves

Disco by Surf Curse

(lol I really tried to be diverse there!)

Excerpts:

After we tie up loose ends from the previous scene in chapter 2, there’s a short time skip that first starts with a flashback a few hours before. If anyone remembers the squad’s departure from the cabin in the Rewired updates, Harrison basically describes it here. This was exciting for me to write because in Reeve’s POV we actually don’t see them physically leaving the cabin as there’s a time skip. I had a lot of fun writing this chunk of backstory before we jump into the fictive present and it’s one of my favourite parts of the story so far. I think this is because I was feeling really homesick for my homegirl Reeve and finally writing with her was such a release?? Like oh wow euphoria?? My queen??

This is a bit from when Reeve exits the cabin and decides Harrison is worthy enough to talk to before she, Foster, Darren and her mom head back home to the east coast. A lot of this context for this excerpt comes from the one chapter I didn’t update on for Rewired (Dark Room) so all you need to know is Reeve has previously bought Harrison a set of cigars. My personal fave because it features my woman in her natural state:

“I like the cigars,” Harrison looked over the water, the cattails grazing the lake’s perimeter like a halo. 

“Thank Darren. They cost him sixty bucks.”

“Well tell him I like them.”

“No thank you?”

“And that I say thank you.”

Reeve flicked her sunshades from the crown of her head to her eyes—her mother’s, he thought. It wasn’t that bright, but she held a hand over her forehead regardless, and beneath the sienna tinted lenses, squinted.

“It’s hot out here,” she said, fanning herself with a receipt she’d found in the mail drawer.

“It’s August.”

Here’s more of that interaction ft Reeve lukewarmly caring about her brother (big! mood!):

“We’ll meet you in Boston at the end of the summer,” Harrison said, and offered her the cigar. She took it swiftly like although she’d gifted it to him, it still belonged to her. The smoke she exhaled caught in the sunlight and dissipated gold.

“Is Lonan sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“Tell him I said bye.”

From there, we have a bit of a honeymoon period (that ends very quickly) as Lonan pierces Harrison’s ear, and then things get bad when Lonan thinks he sees a ghost so! A classic me move!

The chapter ends there and we jump into four. I’ll have a separate update on that because it’s been a PROCESS, however, I hope you liked this update! This project is wild because the voice is so different to what I’m used to so I can never really tell what’s good or what’s awful lol (I think this will take practice). Thanks for reading!

--Rachel

[nbcreepere]

Beauty and the Stinky Boi (Remus x Reader) CHAPTER 18

(I can't put the pic in but here it is https://i.quotev.com/img/q/u/19/10/4/jyqjckaatw.jpg )         I woke up but didn't open my eyes. I could feel Remus playing with my hair and whispering something. I listened in to him. "I would never hurt you, I will only love you, and though I wont marry you because, well I can't handle the thought of marriage." I felt a bit saddened by this, but I continued to fake being asleep. "I will give you a ring, I'll hope you'll say yes to being my only love, because a forever lover is better then what you are now... but I have to wait." He finished. After a few minutes of him playing with my hair he shook me, gently, awake. "Hey, (y/n) wake up." I slowly lifter my head and realized we were still outside. "W-we're still outside?" I asked. "Yes we are. Do you wish to go back?" He asked. "No, I like it out here." I told him. I got off of him and stood up. "I am hungry though." I said. " Well I had that prepared as well... You see Thomas stopped by before you woke up and dropped off some food.          After eating we were dancing again. I remembered what he had said. I wouldn't mind not being married as long as I'm with him. Soon he took me and had me spinning. When I had stopped and was facing him he was down on one knee. "(Y/N), I know we haven't been together for long, and please don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want to marry you due to I can't handle it, but I want to be with you for the rest of my life, so... will you be my forever lover?" He asked pulling out a ring that had a rose on it. I was stunned. My mouth was a gap and my eyes were filled with tears. "Forever and always." I say hugging him.         Remus burst threw the door with me in hand. "(Y/N) SAID YES!" He announced. The others did their own things to say congratulations and Remus and me said our thanks. We all celebrated and even though it wasn't marriage like my parents or grandparents, it was still the best thing to happen. Remus was off talking to his brother and they were laughing. Logan came over and started talking to me. "You actually tamed his beast, you're the first and only one to do that." I smiled knowing that's his way of saying 'thanks for everything you've done to keep him at bay'. "No problem Logan." Logan soon walked off to talk to Thomas leaving Patton to come over to me. "My little child is growing up and falling in love!" He said giving me a bear hug. "Thank's Dad." I hugged back. "What's next? The dirty??? Please not the dirty!" I laughed as Patton was freaking out. "No Dad, I will still be taking showers and being clean." I told him. He calmed down. "Oh thank the puppies..." He said. "Well I'll let you get to what you were doing. I need to talk to Logan." He told me before walking off. "You did it kid." I heard a voice behind me say. I turned and saw Deceit. "Oh hey Dee." I said. "You had him fall for you, you made him leave Thomas alone, you did the impossible." He said. "Good job." I smiled and looked at him. "Thank's slimy boi." I said punching his arm jokingly. "I'm not slimy..." He said a little upset. "I know just your nickname." I said walking off to Remus. "Keep doing what you're doing..." 10/4/19 I'm just gonna write chapters a day before and post them the next day. :p Also this isn't the end it's just leading to it. I'm sorry to say it but there will be an end, but I will make it worth everything, and hey, if I have to I'll make a second book. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a lovely night!

[oohfluffy]

LMN Ch.1 | OSH

Group: EXO

Member: Oh Sehun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Writer!AU | Neighbor!AU

Word Count: 2,318

✎ Chapter 1: Endings ✎

Fresh red petals fell from above as the box that carries his once brightest star, now gets buried several feet from below the ground, dimming its light as it gets farther down.

And she's gone.

His tears couldn't bring her back. His prayers wouldn't get answered despite his faithfulness. His heart wouldn't ever be fixed since the only one who can put every pieces of it is now gone.

He should've made every second worth it before she's out of his grasp.

He should've made sure she heard his 'I love you's a billion times before she closed her eyes into a deep sleep.

He should've made everything perfect that day when he asked her to be his girlfriend since he ended up ruining everything.

He was a jerk to her at first, he admits that.

But he truly loved her.

It was just too late before they both realized—

They can't be.

It was too late for regrets.

Only memories will remain.

But he knows he will always be the same.

Loving her will be his greatest achievement in life.

"SERIOUSLY, NOONA?!"

You almost jumped out of your seat, turning your swivel chair with a hand on your chest.

"I just fucking read the ending of your recent story! Did you seriously need to let her die?!"

"Watch your words, Yeol." You rolled your eyes as Chanyeol's legs gave up, looking at you with sorrowful eyes. You pushed your eyeglasses up as you stared at him. "Get out if you're just gonna rant about the ending of MY story." You turned your back on your younger brother and continued planning your next story.

You're an amateur writer, 25 years old, already wrote 3 best-selling books but unfortunately they're all—

"All of your books has sad endings! Don't you have a heart, noona?!"

You scratched the back of your neck as you can't concentrate with your work.

"Just go and study. You have classes tomorrow."

"Can you promise me one thing?"

Your eyebrows shot up as Chanyeol's pleading voice rang through your ears.

"What?"

"Please make a happy ending for your next story, noona. Please."

Chanyeol reads every book you publish, may it be online or the hardcopy one. You can say that he's your number one fan. Obviously, he's a book lover. He only started becoming one when you became a writer. Such a good dongsaeng he is, right?

You sighed.

This was the 4th time he's asking you for a happy ending.

"I told you, I can't—"

"Why though? Is it because you broke up with your boyfriend?"

"Yeol, you know that's not the reason behind our break-up."

You turned to him again, speaking with your eyes as you saw him pout in defeat. He stood up and walked towards you. You followed his movements and closed your eyes as he landed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Okay, I won't ask anymore. Sorry for startling you earlier, noona. I was just carried away. You know how your stories affect me." You chuckled as Chanyeol hugged you like a kid to his mom. You patted his head with a smile. "I'll always be your number one fan, noona."

"Mmm. Please do." You hummed as you squeezed him tighter.

"Your heartbeat really calms me, noona."

"Perhaps because it might stop any minute—"

"Yah! That was—"

"Shush." You gently pulled him away, flicking his forehead as he stood up. "You have exams tomorrow, right? You should study not—"

"Ne, ne. I will, noona! If I get on the top 5 for this semester, you'll make a happy ending for your next story, okay?"

With your younger brother's big eyes, big ears, reddish cheeks and cute grin, you nodded with a sigh.

He's 19 and in the 2nd year of studying Architecture in EXO university but he's still a kid to you.

"Fine, fine. I will try."

"Don't just try!"

You literally pushed him out of your room and closed the door since he won't stop talking.

Chanyeol's right though.

Your endings always have a rainy day, much to Chanyeol's chagrin.

It will always start with light-going events to the romantic scene of the main characters to the arrival of the conflict and then to the tragic death of the female character.

It always leaves the boy alone.

Broken.

"Back to work." You muttered to yourself as you sat down on your swivel chair and faced your laptop again. Your eyes focused on the screen as you typed the title of your new book.

| Love Me |

Your eyebrow scrunched together as you stared at the words.

"It's too common." You pressed the backspace bar as you bit your lip in concentration. "I should probably complete my plot first. Yeah. I'll do that."

You leaned back on your swivel chair and glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall in front of you. A picture of your family was taped beside it, making your lips curl up into a smile.

Your eyes drifted back to the calendar.

Today's November 20.

"4 months left." You whispered as you closed your eyes, resting them for awhile. "I'll finish the book before that."

I promise.

"Let's start brainstorming then."

You shut your eyes open with a motivated grin and quickly clicked Microsoft Word to begin writing.

"I can do this!"

✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ✘

"Dasom, I can't do this."

She just scoffed as she let herself fall on your bed.

"This is not the first time you've said that and still ending up being the best author of the year. Stop kidding around, Park Yeoreum." Dasom closed her eyes as you continued staring at your laptop with an empty notepad.

"I swear! This is the first time I've ever been hit with a hard mind-block! I can't even think of a nice plot!" You groaned as you lightly bumped your head on your desk in frustration. "I'm going down!"

"You're being annoying, you know. Just clear your mind first. Relax for a week or something before diving into the world of your dark fantasies, my friend. Your books suck."

"My readers love my books, Dasom. They don't suck."

"Bad endings suck! Did you even think of your readers' hearts? I think they always break whenever they read your books."

You huffed as you turned to her.

"Happy endings don't happen unless you die with a happy life. My books contain all the truth you should know about life, not just sickeningly sweet romance that you can't ever have in life forever. Everything's bound to be broken and fixed." You looked up as you played with a toy of a fluffy white puppy. "It's just sometimes we don't know how to bring the pieces back together, that's why we end up crying and sad until the end. Life goes on whatever happens. You shouldn't get caught up with your broken heart and focus on moving forward instead."

"That's always the moral lesson in my mind whenever I finish a story." You smiled at the stuff toy in your hands.

"No wonder you're a great author. You say wonderful words." Dasom sat up straight, eyes wide open as she gapped at you.

You laughed at her comment.

"You'll come up with something, trust me." She shrugged.

"Thanks." You put down the stuff toy back on your desk. "Where are your younger sisters, by the way?"

"They're downstairs with your own sister. Probably gossiping about their crushes in college. Those girls really." Dasom shook her head as she stood up and walked towards you. She suddenly has a soft and worried expression on her face.

"I know that look." You looked back at your laptop and avoided her stare.

"I'm just worried. You know you can always count on me, okay?"

Your eyes went down on your keyboard as they slightly burned. You brought your hand to your chest, feeling the normal beats of your heart.

"There's nothing to worry about, Dasom. Everything will be fine."

You heard her sigh in defeat as she opened the door.

"Just call me if you need anything, okay?"

You hummed in reply, not bothering to look back at her as she stared at your back. With the last sigh released, she went out and close the door.

"Time's running, Yeoreum. Think fast." You mumbled as you opened a notebook before getting a black pen from your pencil case.

"We can start with the characters. Their traits, hobbies, relationships, etcetera." You scribbled on your notebook as your mind slowly started working. "Settings."

You smiled as you almost filled the page with writings.

"Main conflict..."

And you're back to none.

"Shit." You slumped on your chair as you cursed. "What the heck is the conflict now?"

You groaned as you stared at your notebook.

"Help me." You mumbled as you looked up on the ceiling.

A knock on your door interrupted you, making you grunt in response.

"Unnie, dinner's ready." Chanhee, your youngest dongsaeng, called out as she slowly opened your door. "Are you busy?"

"No, I, uh..." You sat up straight as you closed your notebook. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay then! Don't stress yourself out, okay?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Dasom unnie already went home with Bora and Soyu. They said goodbye to me for you too."

"Is that so?"

"Yep! Come down, okay?"

You looked at the door as it closed.

"I think I need a break for awhile."

"Bye, noona!"

Chanyeol waved his hand as he went out of the house, leaving you with your parents and Chanhee at the table.

"He's still at that convenience store?" You asked, grabbing a glass of water.

"It's a good thing for us. Your brother's so enthusiastic about helping in our family's needs. Even Chanhee's working part-time in that ice-cream store near their school." Your mother said as she smiled at you.

"If you're all doing this so I can—"

"Stop now." Your father's stern voice echoed the room. "Just finish eating and go back to your room. Let your sister do the rest."

"I'm not a disabled person, dad. I can wash the dishes for this night—"

"You're disobeying me now, Yeoreum?"

You felt your father's hard stare, making you land your sight on your plate.

"N-No. I just want to help like before—"

"The only thing you can do is to listen to what I say and stay in your room."

You harshly dropped your glass, making Chanhee jump from her seat beside you. You stood up and walked upstairs without a word.

"Yeoreum, darling." Your mother's soothing voice called out as she stood up. But then the thud of your door made her sit back down. "Why can't you control your temper for once, In Sung?!"

"She won't back down if I go easy on her, Ga-in. You know how hard-headed she is. She's already an adult that can make her own choices but for her condition—"

"I understand your point but you'll hurt her in the process!"

"I-I'll go start washing the dishes."

As Chanhee spoke softly, it made the couple shut their mouths.

"I'm sorry, Chanhee—"

"It's fine to talk about unnie's condition because you're both worried, but please stop fighting. She won't be happy with it."

In Sung and Ga-in looked at each other as the youngest of their children went to the sink, leaving them speechless.

✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ 

"Just give me a little bit of inspiration, please." You mumbled as you wrote on your notebook again.

It was the third day of your empty page in your laptop. It was depressing to see.

"Noona?"

"Yeah, come in."

As Chanyeol went inside your room, your eyes remained on your notebook. He peeked at what you're writing and gasped.

"What?" You turned to him with an eyebrow raised.

"You're writing!" His fanboy feels started attacking him again, making you roll your eyes.

"Duh." You huffed, turning back to your notebook. "Fuck, yeol. You ruined it!"

"I didn't do anyth—"

"You distracted me, now my mind's blank!"

Chanyeol jutted his lower lip as he stared at you.

"Sorry."

"What are you doing here anyway?" You groaned as you rested your head on your hands placed on the desk. "You're not here to rant about the ending again, are you?"

"No, no! I'm just here to inform you something."

"What is it?"

"My best friend will be moving in the house next door. He's taking Architecture too! Everyone loves him like he's a god or something—"

"Why do I need to know this?" You lazily replied, looking at your window that shows another window of the house next door.

"Well, Chanhee's excited to meet him. You know how stupid she is when it comes to college boys. Sehun's a jerk though, so she shouldn't." Chanyeol said as he walked towards your bed, lying down as if he owned it. "I don't even know how we stayed as friends. He's a good guy but a playboy. He enjoys wrapping all the girls around his fingers. I think he even sleeps around. I tried talking to him about his ways but he's a hard-headed person like you. So I gave up and just let him do whatever he wants since he's handsome and smart. And--"

All of Chanyeol's words was taken in by your brain, making it start working like a machine. Your head shot up as you opened your notebook and wrote the ideas you suddenly have.

"You're a fucking genius, Yeol! I love you!"

Your younger brother just stared cluelessly at your smiling face as you wrote on your notebook.

"What? Did I say something awesome?" Chanyeol scratched the back of his head with a confused expression but suddenly grinned. "Whatever. As long as I can help!"

Yep, you did help.

—

❥ Ch.2

[gentleknj]

consequences (part 2) | kth

✧ pairing: kim taehyung x reader / crime au

✧ genre: angst, light smut, breaks of fluff because i needed to break up all that angst.

✧ word count: over 6k  ✧ summary:  This is a love story of two people, told in chronological order. Lovers on the lam was never going to be an easy feat. But falling in love wasn’t any easier than robbing a bank, especially if your love thrives in the midst of a drug war. One from a broken home and the other from an underground drug world, will this love triverse the odds or will it succumb to its demise?

✧ warnings: heavy swearing, familial issues, cheating, slight gore, mentions of drugs, guns, serious crimes, death, and alcohol. If you are easily triggered/very sensitive i recommend you not reading this. i’ve said it before and i will continue to say this until i run out of words to write. I would rather have 0 readers than harm anyone. enjoy. X

(ps i am so so sorry this is so late, but i promise the next chapter will be over 10k and there will be more backstory for both y/n and taehyung as well. thank you for the continued support, and i hope it lives up to your expectations)

masterlist

Love. A completely foreign concept to the blonde man, a feeling he thought he had only felt many years ago when his mother was still alive. But such a out-of-the-box feeling resonated from the figure beside him. Whatever he was developing with you, he knew it had to be protected and he would stop at nothing to do so.

It truly was astonishing how there was even any room for oxygen in the office, the tension thick enough to disperse the hydrogen from the oxygen atoms themselves. Jin’s hardset eyes continued to lock with Taehyung’s. The latter still found it harder to breathe, despite keeping his resolve. The older man waved gently for Laura to shut the door, making a tsk sound when she tried to leave while doing so. The sound alone drove chills down your spine as if it were some warning signal that only went off to alert full hell had broken loose.

“Laura, dear, please do stay. I think you’d at least like to get a goodbye in if this whole ordeal goes south.” Jin’s voice was sweet like honey, only stinging like the bee it was made from. Such a handsome man, kind and gentle looking, but his soft features were a ploy to deter you from the malevolence brewing inside.

The blonde woman swallowed thickly before doing as told, closing the door to cut off the party unfolding beneath them.

“Now, I’m aware that Mr. Jeon has told you about a job tonight, is that correct?” Jin spoke as he shifted his position, resting against the front of the doe eyed boys desk flatly on his palms. The tone of his voice kept Taehyung on edge, his digits sweating against yours as he gripped you tightly, stepping in front of you just a fraction. “Ah, well, there have been a tiny change in plans. You see, what you collect tonight is to be returned here to me. Of course, you all get your cut, but only what is seen fit for the effort I see you put in.”

“Sure. It doesn’t bother me either way. I drop a few bodies, hand you your shit and leave.” The blonde male fired, feline eyes never leaving his targeted audience.

“Mm. I see.” Jin reached up to gently rub his chin in what seemed to be annoyance, quickly standing to his full height as he adjusted his expensive blazer. “You and Jungkook are to head to the docks and disband this poker game to bring me my payout.” His expression was now calm, unreadable almost as he sat further onto the edge of the wooden desk.

“But it’s mine, is it not?” Jungkook’s features were hard, emotionless save for the quick tilt of his head to the side. Taehyung knew that gesture all too well, his friend was ready to pounce and quite literally rip apart Jin’s throat in pure anger despite, howbeit, his formalities still lacing his voice. “Those men owe me, sir. I don’t mind splitting my profit 70-30 with you-”

“You expect me to take such a low share when I’m doing you a favor and not putting a bullet between your lady’s eyes after taking her on your desk in front of you? Hmm?”

He was egging Jungkook on, enjoying the rise he was getting out of him. Your free hand lent itself outwards to Laura, her hand welcoming yours immediately. Taehyung swallowed thickly, releasing your hand before outstretching his towards Jin. ”You have a deal,” The younger verbally sealing the negotiation. “My only request is that our girls are monitored among the guests downstairs. None of your men, or you, get alone time with them. You wouldn’t want us to focus on their safety while we’re gone and fuck up the job, would you?”

Taehyung was charismatic, it was hard to say no to him whenever he made any kind of business transactions. He radiated confidence even if his life was on the line. Jin turned his attention to the blonde man, eyebrows raising slightly as his expression became furthermore unreadable. Minutes passed silently as they looked at one another, the latter’s hand still outstretched causing your heart to pound with the muted bass from downstairs.

“We have a deal. 50-50, and the ladies join the party downstairs. I’ll have my men posted at every door, and if you or your ladies try anything, our deal is off. Do I make myself clear?”

The agreement was then made by the chorus of hums in agreeance, guns lowered and tucked away as Jungkook was released. The brunette boy wasted no time in making his way to his girlfriend, his emotions etched into his face. The tension was still residing in the stuffy office and the purple haired man nodded towards the door.

The four of you were to follow Namjoon to the room down the hall to equip the two men before they headed out for the night, the door slightly ajar as Jin’s voice rang out.

“Oh and boys,” He smiled smugly, taking a seat in the lavish chair behind Jungkook’s desk. “Don’t take too long, I may charge a late fee if you do. I’ll choose which of the girls will repay me for the time you waste of mine.” Taehyung grasped the younger boys arm firmly at his words and shoved him further down the hallway before he could reply with some remark that would guarantee the deal would be off.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you were stood outside in the cobblestone driveway. Jungkook had said his goodbye to Laura before he left the house, instructing her to take care of herself by any means until he returned. The blonde mans eyes were fixed on yours, his hands taking yours firmly.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere alone and keep in mind what I taught you about close combat.”

“Tae, I’m not seven. I can handle myself if I feel my life is in immediate danger.”

“I know that. I just needed to hear it. I’ll call you when we’re coming back and then you and I can leave alright? I heard Yoongi’s got us a penthouse suite for the week and a run for us to do.”

“I don’t want to think about that until you’re back in one piece, got it? Focus on getting you and Jungkook back safely and then we can talk about the next run.” Your hand moved to cup his cheek gently, your teeth worrying into your lower lip as you paused. It was hard to grow attached to someone, let alone someone like him, a complete mystery. But the affliction that brewed in the pit of your stomach was hard to suppress. You had given your heart completely to him and you hoped he knows it. Falling in love wasn’t something you ever wanted to do, love never existing in your upbringing, but it sure did have a hold on your heart when you looked at him.

“I promise.” He nodded, tangling your free pinky with his own before leaving a chaste kiss to your forehead.

Within minutes, the car had disappeared into the traffic of the night, the pale woman beside you reminding you to join her inside. The heavy feeling that plagued your chest was one Taehyung felt himself. Only, he couldn’t focus on it, but instead the man beside him and the mission at hand.

Jungkook is amazing on his feet, agile and intelligent, he was a great man to fight beside. The tension that radiated from his body and filled the car, however, was something the younger man was always struggling to subdue behind a facade of indifference.

“They’ll be fine, you know.” The older of the two spoke, checking the magazine of his silenced .9mm as his friends knuckles turned pale at the intensity of his grip. “Even if that bastard wanted to put his hands on her, you know she could-”

“Just shut the fuck up, hyung. I don’t need to keep the image of him laying hands on her in the front of my mind. It’s bad enough he fucking came to my home.” Jungkook all but growled, jaw tight as the traffic heading to the docs blurred by.

The blonde man sat tight lipped the rest of the way, a frown remaining prominent on his otherwise model like features. Once the two arrived, there wasn’t much security for the game that nestled itself in a freight container, sitting against the waterside. The headlights of the car were turned off as they parked a few containers down, scoping out the area for any unexpected onlookers or security. Gun silencers in place, mags full and hearts silently racing, the two snuck amongst the shadows to the entrance and easily took out the two hefty guards. But not before one of them got a good left hook in on Taehyung, his lip splitting at the harsh contact. It only egged his anger and discomfort of the entire situation on further.

Loud music pumped through the metal container to muffle the chatter of the older men inside, the bickering amongst who was bluffing and playful banter about the others abilities at poker. It was almost a shame to break up such a domestic get together, as domestic as drug kingpins could get on a weeknight.

The brunette nodded his chin towards the opening gap of the container and the two stepped fluidly inside, neither hesitating to put a bullet between the two goons’ eyes that stood to overlook the game. The six men sat around the poker table shouted in a mixture of shock and anger upon the interruption.

“Ah, Mr. Jeon. I see you’re here to collect your money personally, eh?” The eldest man sat at the far end of the table spoke after they had quieted down, all eyes on the two young men with gun sights that moved between each of the elders.

“Something like that.” Jungkook quipped, a small smirk making an appearance. “I grew impatient of waiting. I have people to pay off as well, you see, it isn’t just about you.”

Laughter boomed from the bold man, hands moving to swipe through his taut hair, glasses dropping to the tip of his nose. “Young man, there is such thing as patience-”

“Cut the shit, Ahn, we aren’t here to talk. We’re here to get what you owe my friend here and leave. Now, either you can give us the fucking money, or we’ll put a bullet through your head and take your fucking pals out as well.” Taehyung made his way to the other side of the container to press the tip of his silencer firmly to the back of the man’s head, annoyance bubbling through his veins.

The smoke from the abandoned cigarettes around the table made the air thicker, apprehensive glances shared between the two boys. Neither one of them taken seriously by the gangsters sat before them. Each men in the room had their fair share of guns pointed at their skulls, so this was nothing new. But they needed to be provoked into cooperation and Taehyung was getting impatient as the thought of you being alone at the manor creeped up his spine.

Dry laughter befell the older men and that seemed to only heighten the blonde’s annoyance, his gun swiftly shifting momentarily to lodge a bullet in the man beside Mr. Ahn. The men’s head made a loud thudding sound as it hit the table, the laughter ceasing between the older men.

“Christ..” Mr. Ahn sighed, motioning to the three duffle bags sat in the corner of the container. “Your fucking money is in there. Take it and leave.”

Jungkook nodded, lowering his gun before shouldering two of the duffle bags and motioning for his friend to take the other.

“Don’t even think about retaliation, sir. I know where your daughter and her three children live.” The youngest man threw a smirk over his shoulder before taking a leave through the slightly ajar doors.

The walk wasn’t very far to the car although their pace was swift, the trunk opening upon a simple press of a button from the keychain that sat comfortably in Jungkook’s hand. The two boys shared a silent congratulatory nod as the duffles were stuffed in the trunk. The hour long drive back was now the only thing left of this fucked situation.

Back at the manor, Laura had flit between small groups of party guests to do her best at keeping the anxiety of the situation at bay. You on the other hand, gripped the mostly full bottle of soju in your hands, knee bouncing up and down as you sat on the bar stool that hugged the in-home bar. It was hard to keep the gnawing thoughts of negativity from clouding your mind. And the smug look on Seokjin’s face from the far end of the room didn’t help ease your mind one bit. You could feel his eyes boring into your skin, making you feel small and under a magnifying glass.

You had been too caught up in nursing the tiniest of sips from your bottle that you hadn’t noticed someone sat down beside you.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re frightened.” Namjoon chuckled before ordering a drink of his own.

“Oh, piss off.” You hissed, your nose scrunching slightly as you tucked into the bar counter further, eyes scanning the front door periodically in hopes of seeing the man that made you feel safe.

“Mm, feisty.” The purple haired man shook softly with laughter, sipping from his freshly made drink. “You know, you should ease up a little bit. We aren’t as fucked up as you’re making us out to be.”

“Oh yeah?” You finally looked at him, brows knotting together. If he wasn’t so intimidating and on the ‘opposing team’ you would’ve found him to be much cuter than your senses would allow. He’s probably a nice man, but right now you could only think about the million and one ways he could put you in danger right now with a simple signal from his boss just over 10 feet away.

He simply nodded, eyeing you over the rim of his glass. But before the conversation could carry out, you had anxiously glanced at the front door for the umpteenth time that night and were pleasantly overwhelmed by what you saw. You didn’t owe Namjoon a polite excuse before jumping from your seat, feet shuffling quickly through the intoxicated bodies.

Your hands immediately cupped Taehyung’s face to give his features a good look over, noting his split lip and deciding to ask him about it later before pulling him into the tightest hug you could manage. He’d only been gone maybe three hours, tops, but after growing used to doing any runs with him, this felt like you’d been apart for too long. Relief finally flooded through you when he let out a laugh at your actions, duffle dropping to beside his feet to wrap his arms around your frame.

Your embrace was short lived when none other but Seokjin himself interrupted with an unamused clearing of his throat. “Shall we head to the office, boys?” He spoke, a wry smile making an appearance.

Jungkook waved his girlfriend over with a small smile, the two interlacing hands before the four of you followed behind Jin to the office you met in earlier. The air seemed to be just as tense as a few hours ago, duffle bags making a quiet thud against the hardwood of the desk. 3.5 billion won sat comfortably between the three large bags, each bundle of money counted twice to ensure the full payout was there. Half was taken by Hoseok and Namjoon down to their leader’s car as the aforementioned man stayed behind, hand outstretched to Jungkook.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Jeon.” A cheshire cat smile making an appearance as the two shook hands.

Jungkook had stayed silent in response as Taehyung shook Jin’s hand as well, the older male leaving immediately after. You let out a heavy sigh, unaware that you had been holding your breath that entire time. And now that you could relax, the dried blood that sat against Taehyung’s swollen lip brought itself to the front of your mind once more.

“Christ, what happened?” You frowned, brows furrowing as you tilted his chin to get a better look at the bruising area.

Instead of answering, he simply sucked in a quiet breath when your fingertip ghosted over the wound sat proudly on his plump lip. A ‘tsk’ sound fell from your own lips, his face being tugged down gently by your hands as you leaned up on your toes to place a firm kiss to his forehead. Your fingers laced with his when Jungkook spoke up, Taehyung’s chest blooming with warmth at your simple actions. He hadn’t felt someone care about his injuries, however minor they may be in this case, since primary school.

“Goodness, what am I to do with you, raindrop?” Her voice was hoarse from the medication pulsing through the IV. “What happened?” She tried again, this time with a new softness in her tone.

The small boy looked at the floor, eyes brimming with embarrassed tears. “The boys at school told me I looked like I was poor. And they said mean things about you so I pushed one of them and told them they were stupid.” His voice broke as the tears spilled, tiny hands clinging to the soft fabric of her sweater.

Gentle coos filled the room along with his sobs. Her tired arms mustered as much strength as she could to pull him up into her lap as she sat at the edge of the bed, fingers carding through his messy brown locks slowly.

“It’s okay, raindrop. They don’t know any better, okay? Their parents didn’t take the time to tell them right from wrong. Now how about this, hmm? You and I can go down to Myeongdong tomorrow and do some clothes shopping okay? It’s going to be okay, baby.” She paused, pulling away enough to make eye contact with the sad boy in her arms. “I’ll make it all better, I promise you. But you have to promise to never get sent home from school for some dumb fight. Got it?”

He nodded hurriedly, afraid that if he even missed a beat that she would be disappointed in any hesitation. Any over thought reaction. She was all he had, and he couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen if he made her hate him. Although, what he didn’t know, was that his mother wasn’t wired to hate the small, intelligent and kind boy that sat in her lap with snot and tears claiming their spot on his small, puffy face.

The two men bid their goodbyes after splitting the cash evenly, the younger of the two muttering an apology before whisking away his girlfriend to be a host of the party still carrying out strong on the floor below. The anxiety finally subsided as Taehyung’s hand laced with yours, a nod towards the door for a silent understanding of much needed rest. Although, with the amount of fear you had during this evening’s events; you were sure that it would be near sunrise that the two of you would finally be getting some sleep.

AUGUST.

-

Today had been marked the hottest day of the year, lucky for you two, you were calmly sat in the large apartment Yoongi rented out. From the windows, you could see all of Daegu. Soft chatter from some droning newscaster about a convenience store robbery from yesterday. Your hip rested against the grand piano Yoongi had bought and occasionally played when he stayed at the apartment between jobs. The sun beat down on the lively city, people going about their day and completely unaware of your actions the previous day. More so, they knew what you’d done, but not that it had been you.

Taehyung had gotten stir crazy, going on about how he had been itching to get his hands on actual cash and not on the cold plastic of the card his friend set up for money to be wired to for jobs. So, on a complete impulse, the two of you drove to the edge of town and robbed the fourth convenience store since last month. The registers were never full of enough money to raise eyebrows, but close to a million won was enough to report to the police.

Adrenaline, pure and hot as it coursed through your body. The balaclava snug against your skin, leaving your eyes and lips exposed. Two things Taehyung couldn’t quite get enough of. A friend of Yoongi’s, Park Jimin, decided he would be an accomplice so long as he got a third of whatever proceeds the two of you were able to get.

The van circled the block twice, the three of you scouting for any ‘heros’ that would come to the rescue of the young, unwary cashier that sat inside. Business was slow and there were hardly any people roaming the streets. What a perfect opportunity. Taehyung dialed Jimin’s cell, instructing him to keep it on speaker and sit around the block with the van running so they could make a smooth getaway.

The orange haired man was obedient to his friends instructions as he adjusted his sunglasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “Good luck, I’ll be here.” A soft smile was hidden behind his mask as the three nodded to one another.

Your feet carried in sync with the tall blonde’s, hands entwined while you entered the store. No customers were inside, the adrenaline subduing slightly. Taehyung held the trash bag open as you pointed the gun at the cashier, heart pounding loudly in your ears.

“Clean the register out!” You shouted, pacing slightly as you glanced around the store once more. “And don’t you fucking get ballsy kid. I won’t hesitate to fucking shoot you.”

Tears began pouring from the young man’s face and you felt a little guilty, this had to’ve been his first job. Ironed work vest, naive. He followed directions well enough, though, emptying the entirety of the register into the bag Taehyung had held out, gun tucked into the back of his pants snugly.

But before either of you could register the older woman that came out of the backroom, she fired a shot. It rung out in your ears as you turned to the source, morals out the window as you fired not once, but twice at her. The young boy had taken this opportunity to book it out of the store, jumbled words falling from Taehyung’s lips.

As your heart nearly stopped, you grabbed the bag from the tan boy’s hands, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him out to the van that now sat with the backdoor opened and a very panicked Jimin in the driver’s seat.

“Fuck! Step on it! Get us to the fucking apartment!” Taehyung’s body thudded into the bed in the back of the van, the door sloppily slamming shut as the orange haired male did as instructed, speeding off down various streets in an effort to not seem suspicious.

“Baby, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You cried, tearing the wool fabric from your face as well as his to hold your hair back.

Your hands were covered in blood, the bullet luckily hitting his lower left abdomen where there would be less chance of any major organs being completely thrashed.

“Fuck, J-Jimin! Learn to fucking drive, huh?” Taehyung shouted, face growing pale.

Sweat beaded on his hairline, large hands enclasping yours to add pressure to the wound. “Call Hyunsik and tell him to meet us at Yoongi’s place.” You shouted over your shoulder as the van haphazardly pulled into the basement parking lot of the apartment complex. Luckily enough, if you insert a special card into the elevator then you can bypass the front desk and any staff that would inevitably ask questions. “Baby, you’ll be okay. I’ve got you, okay?” You tried once more, reaching a hand up to brush hair out of your boyfriend’s face, blinking away the tears that spilled.

It was no easy feat to support Taehyung’s weight as you and Jimin helped him into the elevator, the phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear as he helped lean his friend against the elevator wall. Within the span of twenty minutes you had gone from an adrenaline junky to a complete mess. The man you cared so deeply for was now bleeding on you, losing consciousness as you made it to the dining room table of the apartment. The blood trailing itself from the elevator and across the white tiles.

Within minutes, you had managed to follow the instructions being given over the phone as Hyungsik informed you that he would be there in ten minutes. The blood was staining your hands at this point, tears mixing with sweat as you inspected for the exit wound.

“Yeah, yeah- There’s an exit hole, fuck! Please-” You sniffled, trying your best to remain level headed as every emotioned flooded through your head at once. “Please hurry.”

As he promised, ten minutes had passed and the elevator doors opened, a tall man in workout clothes entered the apartment. The size of the first aid kit in his hand looked more than equipped with whatever he could possibly need. But the amount of blood Taehyung had lost was more than any kind of first aid kit could even dream of having. Of course, medical TV shows were almost never correct in their diagnosis considering 90% of them were all fictional or dramas.

“He’s going to need blood.” Hyunsik spoke, gloves already on and kit opened beside the now pale man splayed on the table.

“Take mine.” Without a second thought you began searching for a tourniquet amidst the supplies. “I-I have O Negative, I can give to anyone. Please.” your eyes met the older man’s as tears blurred your vision.

A quiet nod was given as you sat at the head of the table, hands running through Taehyung’s hair in an effort to calm his grunts of pain. An IV was started as best as an at home one could be, your attention shifting to the pacing man across the room.

“Jimin,” Your voice shook. Clearing your throat as the orange haired man turned his attention to you, he looked almost as helpless as you felt. “Call Yoongi, please and let him know what happened okay? And- and figure out a way to clean up all the blood so we don’t get caught and you can have my share of what we took, okay?”

A sigh fell from his lips as he shook his head, long strides carrying him to the elevator as he dialled who you assumed was Yoongi. This was supposed to be simple, get in, intimidate the kid and get the cash. That was it. How could this have gotten so fucked in such a short amount of time?

A soft groan of your name came from the room down the hall, your thoughts interrupted by the sound. Padding quietly to the source, worry etched itself onto your features as you stood in the bedroom doorway. The curtains had been closed and a humidifier infused with lavender were all an attempt to keep the tan boy you’d grown very, very fond of, calm.

“Y/n.” He called again, arm over his eyes so he hadn’t a clue that you had been standing there.

“I’m here baby.” You started, carefully moving further into the room. “Are you okay?”

He jumped slightly at the closeness of your voice, the darkness concealing the majority of your figure, sve for the soft glow from the humidifier. But in the sudden movement, he winced and you could feel your chest tighten at the sound. His hand came down to pat the bed beside him, a pout forming on his pink lips. A quiet giggle escaped your mouth at the sight, he resembled a small child who was needy for affection and it made your heart swell. To see him acting normal like this after the events of yesterday was enlightening to say the least.

Once sat beside him, your hand gently brushed through his hair as the other carefully lifted the covers to investigate the large bandage that sat above his hip. He was lucky enough that the woman had bad aim and missed his organs. He sure was happy that he had gained a little bit of extra weight or else he probably wouldn’t have survived. That, and the handiwork of Hyunsik who, luckily enough, works at the hospital but is close friends to Tae as well as Yoongi, so this kind of a call wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him.

While you were lost in your thoughts, eyes glued to the injury, the blonde took a moment to admire your features, soft with a warm glow from the light of the humidifier, relentlessly beautiful. And as if he were a mad man, his large hands grasped your cheeks gently, tugging your face to his to place a firm kiss to your lips. He felt intoxicated when he kissed you, like nothing in the world went wrong and you were the only other person on the planet with him.

The hum you let out against his lips caused a wide, boxy smile to appear. One you hadn’t seen fully since before Kim Seokjin appeared that night in Jungkook’s office. The butterflies were entirely mutual, but he hadn’t a clue that they were. To anyone outside of the relationship, it was obvious you were in love. Madly in love.

But the words that hung at the back of your throat didn’t have the courage to climb out and make themselves known. Pulling his thoughts back to reality, admittedly yours as well, his large palm skimmed down your neck and down between your breasts, trailing down your stomach as he finally rested it in your lap. Long fingers tugged at the fabric of his sweats that adorned your body, his teeth capturing your lower lip between his to graze his pearly whites over. The feeling caused you to moan into his mouth, hands moving to push gently at his shoulders.

“You’re hurt baby, we can’t do that.” Bashful giggles left your mouth as you leaned back against your palms, your eyes meeting his.

He sported a very unconvincing pout, the corners of his lips tugging as you squinted at him. “That doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel better. You are taking care of me afterall, like some kind of hot nurse.”

“Oh, no no. No foreplay, no sex, no nothing until you’re better. I know you’re tough, but I don’t want to hurt you even more okay? It was my fault anyways that you got hurt.” Your eyes fell to your lap were your hands now sat, guilt eating at your mind.

“What the fuck?” The volume of his voice took you by surprise, your eyes meeting once more. “You know that isn’t true.”

“I could’ve checked the store better before just pointing a gun in that kids face.” God, you felt like you’d let him down.

“Hey, neither of us expected there to be anyone else. I could’ve checked the store too, you know? It’s not your fault, I want you to know that.” Large, warm hands took yours, tugging you to lay beside him on the bed. “We both could’ve done better at checking, but you got me to the van. I remember little...snippets, if you will, of you helping hyung. If it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have made it. Okay?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice now. Instead, you carefully tucked into his side, your face seeking a home in the crook of his neck. The two of you laid like this for a while in silence until Taehyung switched on the tv, flicking through the channels aimlessly. That is until the CCTV screencap of the two of you robbing the convenience store was on every news channel. Both of you watched intently as the reporter carried on.

“There have been reports of robberies in the last month by, what seems to be, the same couple. The two remain unnamed, but are armed and dangerous. Yesterday around 3pm, there were shots exchanged by the owner of a G25 near the edge of the city. The owner, Ms. Kim Heejung is in critical condition, and it is hard to tell whether or not she will survive the two bullet wounds. If you have any information about the suspects, we urge you to call 119. Thank you, and we will keep you updated as the story develops.”

Taehyung’s rumbling laughter took you by surprise, your brows knitting together as you moved to look at him. Before you could even question him, he shook his head and put one hand up in surrender.

“I’m not laughing at the fact that that woman has been hospitalized, it’s just funny to me that it took them this long to even broadcast our robberies. At this rate, they’ll never catch us.”

“Shut up, or you’ll jinx us.”

A sly smirk graced his features and you shook your head, moving to get up from the bed. But of course, a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist and anchored you in place. Giggles bubbled from your lips, your eyes rolling heavenward as soft lips left sporadic kisses against your face. Your attempts to push him way proved futile, but the laughter that bubbled between the two of you as you now lay face to face was enough to make butterflies erupt in your stomach. His breath fanned over your face, stray hairs of your own tickling against your skin.

Over the year, Taehyung had grown accustomed to being alone. Sleeping with someone was purely physical for him and he absolutely refused to let anyone spend the night with him afterwards. Feelings were just something that would inevitably leave him in shambles and he couldn’t quite bring himself to do such a lousy thing to himself again. So what was so different about you? Why is he letting you in so close? The laughter died down as these thoughts swirled his cluttered mind, hand resting in its place against your chin; thumb ghosting its pad against your cheek.

“You know, I can see the sadness in your eyes when you think like that.” You whispered, keeping your gaze on his lips as he put his full attention on you. “Whatever it is that makes the cogs in your brain work so furiously like that, that make your eyes seem so lost, I hope you’ll tell me one day.” Where the boldness came from that encouraged you to say this was beyond you. But before the cops catch you both, you opt for getting to know the man who has your heart in his giant, warm palms. All of your life was filled with horrible examples of marriage and family, money and drugs tearing everything at the seems. There was just something about him that made you want to pretend, just for a moment, that love exists and the world isn’t completely overrun by money hungry, sex driven, unintelligent beings with enough empathy to spare for a cockroach.

His touch retracted for a moment, mind stalling at how you were able to read him so well. It didn’t make sense how you were able to see that he was so caught up in his own mind when he had grown so talented at masking everything. The way he pulled away, even if it was for a second, you could feel any courage that grew on those words at the back of your throat had been squandered and replaced with a nauseating feeling of overstepping. And with that, you pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing.

“I’m going to make sure the blood trail we left is gone, yeah? Just...ring me if you need me, babe.” The tone of your voice faltered slightly, eyes glossed over before exiting the room. How could you have been so bold like that? To assume you know anything about the mystery that is Kim Taehyung?

Your bottom lip was taken between your teeth, hands finding comfort around the glass of wine you had left atop the piano. The keys seemed to beg to be touched, but you couldn’t be bothered to remember the sickeningly bittersweet lies that tangled with the melodies you’d practiced until your fingers hurt. Maybe you were in fact defective like your uncle had said all those years ago, incapable of anything but destruction and caressing those ivory keys you begged so fervently to save you.

-

a/n: AHHHH! an update, fiNALLY! again, i am so so so sorry this took so long to post but i had a lot going on. its also past midnight and ive been up for nearly 30 hours so i apologize for any mistakes that were left in, im posting this without editing it three times like i usually do (pls go easy on me). i hope you guys enjoy this series as much as i do, and feedback is always appreciated! x

[awakening-rp-blog1]

the seventh coven’s elder security, lee sunmi.

life stage. prime.

physical appearance. twenty-five.

personality.  sunmi is a messy open book. she lets people probe her wounds, yet few trickle deep within the tiny empire she had built within her chest, and somehow the foundation shakes very little and she gives them her country. passion ruins through her veins and she wears her heart on her sleeve, a terrible liar quite frankly and awful at hiding her true emotions. she heals with a terrible intensity, always burning bridges with those who wronged her and making sure no one gets out of the fire alive. at times, she says quite a lot and nothing at all. she always takes too little and gives too much, reaching for people to find salvation in the gaps of their words.she is a prankster, a joker. sometimes, when humans speak in idioms and empty platitudes again, she feels far away. as if she could shed her responsibilities and plagiarzie identities for a while and no one would notice. living amongst humans is an odd pretending and profoundly unsettling. but at its core sunmi is yearning for her own chapter in the book of life, to keep the story from writing over her head.

history.  mid november and the sky is greying. she doesn’t say much and by now people know better than to light all the dark rooms in her house. everytime the autumn month comes by, she can feel it, the tide of her birthday and the same night her mother died. it is as if one morning she looks across the shabby dinner table and everything that has ever been left unsaid was written in her father’s eyes. no one ever had to tell her anything, she always managed to overhear snippets of conversations. the feeling of her father’s forced love became all too familiar. she could see it now, the way he spoke in dim lit words, the way he mentioned her with little feeling and even more disgust. autumn always returns with a vengeance, to collect its debts. how often do we wear smiles that hurt, smiles that tell us we have burned too long? she feels heavy and the worst thing is, she knows the weather of leaving; the stale air, the crisp fall wind. when she grows old enough to understand the poisonous hatred carefully cultivated by her father for unearthing her mother from his planet, her whole body tells a story of pain, like a sickness she refuses to treat.mid july and her smile is wide and effortless. the dry heat of summer lays heavy and she has been going at it for days - a weary traveler, a foolish and gentle spy. a young sunmi lurks through life like it is an old house, teasing the wallpaper until it falls down. layer by layer, story by story. motions to people with the edge of her voice, with a change of her expression. they say her curiosity overflows, walking hand in hand with her innocent beauty. outside the cityscape of hanyang, she is skipping between the apple trees in her family’s yard, curiously following the slim river side.she loved him. that’s what sunmi told herself the day her father sold her to be someone’s wife. she loved him. he, who had eyes only for her, who ignored every other pair of long, black eyelashes gazing his way. but it takes the hard way to learn that “i love you” doesn’t mean “forever”. at first his charm felt like a shelter for the soft of her. he enveloped her in honey, velvet words, burrowed himself in her eyes. she ignored how his mouth held wars, ignored the chill after he held her. it was never about her. when he kissed her, it was always the taste of leaving. and she saw the parts he took of her, leaving her cracked open, overflowing with disbelief. and still, she looked up at him everytime and heard herself say “i love you”. godforsaken words.he called her name like it was water, whispered that she is the only thing in the universe that can quench his thirst ( he is always parched ). she didn’t know how to tell him that she is the goddamn drought. he sought refuge in the bottom of liquor bottles but instead of comfort they offered rage. the sun rose one december morning and he put a knife in her back, still drunk from the night before. he decided to put her somewhere she cannot reach, decided their stories should no longer touch.she would teach him better. the saving grace of the seventh coven elder embraced her, the closest she would ever come to having guidance. and they taught her that her body is a wound. but the parts of her that burned will clot with love and she will grow thicker skin on those outstretched arms. and that she will keep making churches out of people because there is no other way to experience ardour. and sometimes the people will be burning - out of greed, or vice, or too much giving, out of something dark and cavernous she cannot reach. and their fires will fill her lungs with secondhand grief. maybe she fans the flames with her own disharmony. but one day, she could embrace the rebirth in building bridges out of the thorns she plucked out from her ribcage, understanding that she was her own home and maybe that is why no place could ever fit so neatly into her fugitive heart.she didn’t know what exactly she expected when her teeth sunk into her past lover’s flesh, ripping out his carotid artery. she had dreamed about this moment and the incoming enlightenment only to realize that he had dug too deeply within her soul, without a sense of tenderness and love. he made her into a river when she was an ocean. lately she has been trying to dream of something more but how could it be any different? she negotiates with her quiet, she wanders, she bleeds and tries to dream again. the gentle suffocation of people who disguise their greed with affection evoke the strange alchemy of myth and murder. you hungry girl. never saw a woman more in love with the humming of the fridge. forever pacing the moonlighht, loving in all directions. reckless hands combing through a lover’s hair, frenzied eyes, kissing boys and girls half awake. heart like a cigarette that won’t stay lit and by next week, she will be in love with some other creature. lee sunmi had died a tragic death centuries ago and yet lee sunmi was walking this earth stronger than ever. wielding fire and fury at anyone that would dare approach her saviour, her light, her leader. in the end, the bitter truth is that she is simply someone searching for savagery. a phrase, a light, a fire. the signs along the way. and by the end of it all, she has renounced her own name and become more of a sinner than a saint, the almond moon as witness.

[royallyanxious]

Collapsing Star Prologue

So I’ve started yet another story this time with a big pinch of moxiety (and eventual prinxiety because I’m a trash and can’t write anything else bye)

Collapsing Star

Obviously you can read it on AO3

next chapter

Parings: one sided moxiety, eventual prinxiety, logicality

word count: 2582

tw: depression and anxiety disorder

Roman is sitting relaxed on Patton's sofa, laughing at one of his puns. They accidentally bumped into each other few weeks ago just after Roman moved back to his hometown. That was their first meeting since high school times. Yet Patton's pun remained just as pure as they used to be. And Logan is still getting as annoyed as he used to be upon hearing them. The only difference is that now Patton kisses down each of Logan's frowns. Roman smiles. He's happy that these two found their way together. He used to ship them so hard during the school times and when he learnt that Logan is going overseas to study his heart broke. Apparently he came back after two years, called Patton and week later they were happy couple. They now have been dating for 3 years and Roman couldn't get happier. And apparently so do they.

"Oh man so many things has changed since high school..." sighs Roman "You two are together. I, instead of being a hollywood star, am managing the theater... So many has changed..." He looks around the comfy apartment Logan and Patton share. It’s so cozy, he has never been here before and yet it feels like home already.

"But is it a bad thing though?" beams Patton "As long as we're all happy it shouldn't matter what we accomplished and have yet to accomplish in our lifes!"

"Agreed." nods Logan and delicately squeezes Patton thigh.

"And I'm so glad that you came back to Florida Ro!" adds Patton grabbing a cookie "We've missed you so much here! This town seems so boring without you!"

"Well Patton, technically the number of residents of this city makes it almost impossible to avoid any interesting situa-" he stops in the middle of the sentence and the smile drops off his face "Your earbud is..."

Patton with one quick move clicks the earbud which has been in his ear since Roman walked through the door. Now that he thinks of it Patton has been wearing it every time since the reunion in grocery store few weeks ago.

"Hello?" asks Patton. He's not smiling anymore. His face is serious and his lips form one thin line. Roman can't remember seeing Patton like that. "Never." Says Patton after few seconds and Roman catches a sight of sadness in his eyes. Apparently someone on the other side of the phone has said something sad or disturbing. Patton has always been a sensitive guy. He gestures Logan to give him a piece of paper and quickly notes down some address "Okay I have this. Stay on the phone. I'm coming. Stay on the phone." he says and quickly walks out of the room. Soon the front door shuts and Patton leaves. Confused Roman looks at Logan who sighs and rests his elbows on knees.

"A lot has changed since you left Roman." he clears his throat awkwardly. This is new to Roman too. He knows that Logan hardly ever has problems with explaining things, but this time he seems to be clearly uncomfortable.

"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to Lo. I understand that we may have… grown apart a little bit" says Roman, even though he's really curious. He knows that his friends' feelings go first so if Logan doesn't want to talk about it- he's not going to force him.

"No, it's nothing really..." Logan exhales loudly "Despite the time that has passed I still consider you one of my closest friends Roman." he smiles slightly and Roman smiles back. He's glad that the relation between them hasn't faded away completely and now they can restore this friendship.

"So?" asks Roman and moves a little bit closer. Now he can ask about details. The tight grip on his heart disappeared being replaced with new one. Why was Patton sad? What happened when he Romas was away?

"So you know Patton..." Logan's voice is a little bit softer when he says the name of his boyfriend "He's the best human walking on this world. He sees the best in people and he loves to help others..."

"Mhm..."

"Few months ago Patton has registered into this program."

"What program?"

"It's called...Guardian Angel... I doubt you’ve heard of it. It’s this kind of program you wouldn't never hear about unless you look for it. And believe me Patton was looking for something like this for a long time... But let’s start from beginning, shall we? You remember that he used to suffer from depression, right?"

Roman nods quietly. These were dark days. The diagnosis and the struggles Patton has to face every day... Finally he managed to win with the illness but Roman knows that he still has to check up at doctor from time to time.

"So Guardian Angel is about helping people with depression and other mental illnesses. The recreation process is long and arduous but Patton of course was determined to become someone's angel. He passed all the tests. And it’s not easy to pass them for someone who himself has had troubles with mental illnesses…. So after that he had to wait for a person who needed help and was willing to put themselves under Patton's care."

"Willing to?" Roman raises his eyebrow.

"Yes, the person of whom you're taking care of chooses the guardian themselves. Patton was like a little teddy bear to be shot down at the lottery. It made me a little bit mad because Patton being Patton was worried that no one will like him enough to choose him. But... after weeks of waiting someone has appeared... A boy though he would be offended if he heard me speaking like that about him." Logan chuckles "He's 19 now, but he was 17 back then... his name... his name is Virgil. And Patton is up to his disposition 24 hours per day, 7 days per week. He even have a special earbud. You must have noticed it. So whenever Virgil doesn’t do well or needs help Patton is there to pick up the phone which mostly ends up with him taking Virgil home.”

Roman leans, trying to analyses what Logan has just said to him.

"So now Patton is...?"

"Yes, picking up Virgil. They will probably come here if Virgil feels like meeting someone new. But I think he doesn’t mind that too much. So unless you want to leave, you can stay. You're no bother Roman." Logan stands up "I have to make some tea. Virgil will probably want something hot to drink... He was probably wandering around the town with his friends again. It always ends up like that... He gets hurt and..."

Roman follows Logan to the kitchen and watches as his friend boils the water. Suddenly a question pops into his mind.

"Are how do you feel about this situation?" he asks and Logan smiles slightly.

"At first it was weird... You know technically I’m no one to Virgil. I mean, I’m not the part of the project so at first I felt a little bit excluded. Especially since there are days when Virgil has to stay with us for a few days... And sometimes he needs to be taken to the doctor... Things like that felt weird at the beginning but now..." the smile grows wider "He feels almost like a little brother you have to take care of which is a pain but you still love him. It's hard to explain but despite all these horrible things he has been through Virgil is great person. And he has grown up so much during past two years! You wouldn't believe! He's so much mature now! He's not attending college yet but we're slowly thinking about it. He's health goes first so I sometimes teach him some random stuff from my textbooks, you know Roman and... wait what are you laughing about?" Logan frowns and Roman can't hold the laughter inside anymore.

"I've never thought about you in terms of proud father Lo!" he exclaims finally as he somehow manages to conduct a series of breathes in order to calm himself down. Logan snorts.

"If you spend as much of your time with someone like Virgil you would be proud of him too."

"Yea... That's what I dream of Lo.” Roman’s voice is laced with sarcasm “Handsome male with sad background story and I'm his prince on white horse! But in my vision I'm his lover. Not his mother, Logan!" laughs Roman. He knows he shouldn't but he still laughs. He feels a spark of excitement when corners of Logan's lips travel up.

"You haven't changed at all Roman." he shakes his head and pours the tea with water. Small, cozy kitchen fills with the smell of green tea and mint. "Do you like mint tea? Sorry that's all I have since Patton started freaking out about Virgil's health, all we eat and drink recently are greens." he says it completely seriously but Roman can sense a tickle of humor in the tone of Logan's voice.

"Mint is okay." replies Roman and Logan take another mug out of the cupboard. All of them are covered with colorful dots except of one which has little purple bat on it. Roman doesn't need a genius to guess who's the owner of this mug. He tries to imagine Virgil. He’s probably shy… With blonde angelic locks and big, green eyes. Following Patton everywhere like a lost puppy. Most likely wearing all grey. And on the top of that- gay. Roman hums to himself.

"Logan aren't you jealous though?" he asks with curiosity after few minutes.

"What do you mean?" Logan looks at him with surprise.

"I mean... Patton and Virgil must share a special bond since Patton is his ‘angel’, oh my that sounds stupid but anyway... The age gap between them is only 4 years too. And as you said before you don’t have access to everything they do. And that earbud thingy… Doesn’t it worry you a little bit? I know that you consider Virgil as your younger brother but... He doesn't have to think that way. Okay and now you’re laughing? Great just great, would you enlighten me what you find so funny?” Roman grunts embarrassed watching Logan holding his stomach as a wave of giggles comes from his mouth.

"Don't worry friend. First of all, Virgil and Patton tell me everything. I don’t feel excluded even in the slightest. Second of all... Virgil has hinted us recently that he may or may not have a girlfriend."

"Straight? In 21st century?" mocks Roman teasingly and Logan raises hands in defense.

"Hey, I'm no one to judge! He knows that I will support him no matter what. But." he stops abruptly and points at Roman "You. Don't you dare to hit on this boy. Playboy."

"I'm not a boy anymore Lo-ogic." snorts bored voice from the corridor and Roman immediately turns around. So that must be Virgil. He looks nothing like Roman has imagined. He's leaning over the door-frame with his hands crossed on the chest. He's wearing a dark leather jacket and black skinny jeans. His bangs is dyed purple and Roman would say that he looks like a classical bad-boy if it wasn't that Virgil's whole face is smudged with resting of black eyeliner and eyeshadow. Streams of tears are still visible on his cheeks.

"Oh Virgil. You're here. How amazing." smiles Logan softly. "Oh you too Patton. I've made you some tea. Sit down, both of it. You must be tired. So Pat, did it go smoothly?" asks Logan as Patton sits next to Roman who feels a little bit out of place right now. He watches as Virgil lazily walks over to the chair and literally falls onto it. He leans his head back with closed eyes. Roman finds it a little bit weird but basing on lack of reaction in both Logan and Patton's posture he assumes that it's normal.

"He forgot to take his meds again." sighs Patton with a pinch of accusation in his voice.

"Oh." escapes from Logan's mouth.

"For a week." finishes Patton.

"Oh!" this sigh is much more aggressive and both Logan and Patton stares into Virgil's exposed neck as if they were trying to burn holes in it.

"I just didn't feel like it." mumbles Virgil more to himself than to Logan or Patton. The purple lacy ribbon around his neck, moves slightly on his Adam’s apple.

"Well young man you know I will have to report that." Patton clicks his tongue. "Could you at least tell me if you have them with you?"

Virgil rolls his head and finally faces Roman. Until now Roman hasn't realized that he is sitting directly in front of Virgil. He gulps. This is awkward but Virgil doesn’t seem to care about Roman at all. Not something Roman has expected from a mentally ill person but who is he to judge.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't..." hums Virgil almost cheerfully and takes out his phone.

"Virgil." Logan's voice is cold and sends chills down Roman's spine but it seems that it doesn't bother Virgil even in the slightest. He types something into the phone, waiting if either Patton or Logan say something more.

"Okay I will take them now." he groans finally after replying to some text and takes off small box. Roman can't see the name of the medicine but it's pretty obvious that it's antidepressants. Virgil quickly gulps the pill. "Satisfied?"

Logan sighs and Patton smiles brightly.

"You want us to treat you like an adult and yet you act like this..." says Logan, gets up from the table and leaves the room mumbling something about writing to the doctor.

Roman notices that Virgil almost immediately buries his nose in his phone.

"Who are you texting kiddo?" asks Patton sweetly and Virgil flinches a little bit. His bangs fall into his eyes more and more.

"No one special." Comes a quick reply.

"Girlfriend?" chuckles Patton.

"Maybe." replies Virgil shortly with his eyes still glued to the phone.

Patton giggles once again.

"Do you want some more tea Roman? Oh right! Roman you don't know Virgil. I mean officially! Roman this is my little Virgil. Virgil honey this is my old friend Roman."

Virgil finally brings himself to look up at Roman.

"Sup?" he says quickly and his gaze drops down again.

"Nice to meet you too..." snorts Roman. Patton laughs as if he was watching a good comedy, not an awkward meeting. He gets up and ruffles Virgil's hair.

"I'll be back in a minute." he says and turns around.

Huge blush crawls on Virgil's face and he quietly looks above his shoulder at Patton who disappears in the door. Small smile wanders in the corner of his lips and Roman gasps. Virgil instantly turns his gaze on Roman and bites his lip. They for a while stare at each other trying to read each other's expression. Virgil is the first one who turns away his eyes.

"Guilty." flashes through Roman's head but he stays silent. Instead his clicks his tongue. To his utter surprise Virgil hisses at him.

"What the-"

"What?" grunts Virgil and his gaze falls back on the phone "Have you never seen a hissing emo with make-up ruined from crying."

Roman laughs quietly.

"No, I have not."

"You're welcome then." Virgil's eyes look up for a tiny piece of second before dropping down again.