#like it was one of those posts that i initially agreed with but then alarm bells went off in my head at some of the phrasing

[dimonds456]

hey tumblr, thanks for recommending me a TERF post "based on my likes." I hope the hour I spent blocking as many people as I could bear in the notes is enough of a hint for you.

#i've seen some shit this morning y'all #like it was one of those posts that i initially agreed with but then alarm bells went off in my head at some of the phrasing #the post was about how 2-year-olds and 3-year-olds don't have a concept of gender yet because they're too little #followed by 'amazing it's almost like telling kids what boys and girls are will help them understand' #so i checked the notes and it was rampant with terfs #the main post was never tagged as anything though someone just posted a twitter screenshot #i need to find the terf tags post thing cuz i didnt have time to block before but i guess i do now #now i'm paranoid about how much of my stuff has been this shit and i never realized #anyway be careful guys it's fucking BAD out here #dimond speaks #tw transphobia #tw transphobes #and like i agree- 2 and 3 are too young for this stuff since the gender binary is so fucking strong #of course girls can play with dinosaurs if they want that doesn't make them boys #but kinds will understand that the more experience and knowledge they gain of the world around them #they barely know they're sentient yet of course they're gonna get confused #but once they DO get a better handle on what gender is then some of them are gonna realize that being a boy was the right answer all along #you cannot make that judgement for them #and also like no harm no fowl if they DO think they're trans for a while? like what's wrong with that?? #this shit is complex as fuck and i do not expect a 3-year-old to get it okay? #took me til i was about 15 to even know trans people existed at all and a couple more months to realize i was one too #and i'm fucking dumb like i'm not a good metric to go off of #but even if 3-year-olds aren't going to understand that's where you as the parent have to help them understand it #but little by little #like as teenagers and adults we can just look something up and tada! there's the answer! #kids can't do that yet they DO need parents to help them #those parents just also have to be aware of how they're teaching their kids #there's a difference between 'girls like pink and boys like blue' and 'and your age it literally doesn't matter but girls like she/her' #and that was a terrible example but i'm not a parent so #you figure it out

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

X Marks the Spot - K.SY

🏴‍☠️Who; Kwon Soonyoung (Seventeen) x female reader 🏴‍☠️What; Humour. Bestfriends to lovers. I guess some tiny fluff? Adult themes. 🏴‍☠️Wordcount; 5.8k 🏴‍☠️Warnings; Profanity. Party typical alcohol mentions but neither SY nor reader are drinking. Kind of jealous/possessive Soonyoung. Making out in public places. The whole point of this story is Soonyoung in a costume marketed for women, so if that's not your vibe then this story is not for you, friend.

Although there isn't any smut, this is definitely an 18+ fic so Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Summary; You stupidly left the job of buying your costumes for the party down to Soonyoung, and now you're paying for it and have to spend the night watching him dancing in those little shorts initially intended for you.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; this is all because I can't get the thought of Soonyoung in the pirate outfit from my "Sexy costumes for Seventeen to wear" post out of my head. made myself feral with that one.

Completely out of the blue last week, Seungkwan decided to send a message in the group chat that he's throwing a costume party. No reason for it, nothing had happened to warrant a party, he had simply decided he wanted to do it and demanded the entire group be there and in costume.

Soonyoung had, unsurprisingly, already been by your side on our couch watching the latest episode of the drama you two were obsessed with, when the message came through. After the episode you both looked at your phones and Soonyoung immediately started to look for costume ideas excitedly. He soon found and fell in love with a pirate outfit and after showing you it, he said it's part of a couple costume and as besties, you have to match because 'that's what besties do'. In the year you have known Soonyoung, you have never truly said no to him and this was no different.

Though perhaps you should've at least looked at the female half of the matching costume before agreeing instead of blindly trusting your best friend.

Which leads us to here. It's an hour before the party is due to start and Soonyoung has just turned up at your apartment to get ready together just like always. He has the parcel of costumes in his arms and a bright excited grin on his face when he hands it over to you to allow him to remove his shoes.

"I haven't opened it yet," He informs, watching you walk over to the couch to lean the parcel against the arm and open it like you knew he wanted you to. Soonyoung knows you get an odd sense of joy from opening parcels whether or not they're for you so he often brings his orders over or invites you to his apartment to allow you to open them for him.

"So I see," You muse with a little giggle.

Soonyoung appears at your back a moment later, leaning his chin on your shoulder to peer into the bag as you open it. The first costume out is his, packaged in another bag though this is clear revealing the cardboard insert with a picture of a man in the costume on the front. He takes it happily when you offer it and bounces aside to start to open it excitedly.

There's only one more item in the bag, your costume so you take it out, excited about your matching pirate outfits too. Up until you turn the packet over to look at the picture and realise that this truly is not what you expected, especially not from your best friend.

"What the actual fuck, Kwon Soonyoung?!" You demand flabbergasted.

"Uh-oh, the full name," Soonyoung looks up at you in alarm, all sign of joy gone. "Did they send the wrong thing?"

"I hope so because if you saw this on the site and still ordered it, you and I are going to have some issues." You turn the packet to show him the picture on the cardboard insert. A picture of a woman in a tiny pair of high-waisted shorts, if they could even be considered that with fishnet tights underneath. There's an attempt at a white top that honestly could be a lot worse, it's off the shoulder and cropped but it's honestly not as bad as it could be for a female-focused costume, but still far too revealing for your liking. To finish it off, she's wearing a striped bandana on her head with a plastic sword in her hands and you're very certain that the sword alone is the only reason the packet is that big because there's certainly not enough material creating the costume to require such a size bag.

Soonyoung stares at the picture for a second then looks up at you with a confused little pout. "It's a pirate outfit."

"Show me yours," You demand with a sigh. He doesn't hesitate to move over and hand you his costume, still in the packet just about.

There's a clear difference in costumes. The picture on his packet depicts a man in three-quarter length vertically striped trousers and a simple white shirt with an open neckline revealing a thin triangular strip of skin down to his sternum, finished with the same bandana as your costume and a plastic sword. Though, of course, the man's sword is bigger than the woman's sword. Of course, the men get the big boy sword and the women get the toothpick.

"You seriously don't see a problem with this?" You ask, holding the two packets up side by side so that he can see the photos together. Poor, naive Soonyoung looks between the pictures rapidly in a desperate attempt to understand. Yet he winds up just shaking his head as he looks at you with such an innocent expression that you know that he seriously doesn't understand the problem here at all. "Then you can wear this one." You declare, handing him the woman's outfit before turning to stalk off to your bedroom.

"What?!" He sputters, scrambling to follow you down the short corridor. "This is for women!"

"You've said before, clothes have no gender!" You remind, turning at the threshold with a hand on your open door ready to close it and a sweet smile on your face. "If you want to match with me, Soonyoungie, you wear that and I'll wear this."

He stares between you and the packet in his hand for a moment before agreeing with a nod and a simple "okay".

And that right there, is your second mistake.

When you had told Soonyoung to wear that outfit, you really had not been prepared for how fucking good he'd look in the skimpy little outfit. So now you have to spend the next hours at Seungkwan's bustling apartment pretending that your gaze isn't constantly locating Soonyoung in the dim lighting as he happily dances amongst other costumed bodies.

Sure, you've seen Soonyoung topless before so you know the man has a frankly incredible body usually hidden under the baggy clothes he usually prefers to wear, but the sexy little pirate outfit highlights his strong torso and biceps so well. The cropped top stops at his sternum giving full view of the top half of his defined abs, the bottom half hidden by the high waist of the shorts. And those shorts? They really do not leave a lot to the imagination at all so Soonyoung has spent the entire night so far carefully doing his best to keep the sword strapped around his hips dangling in front of his crotch. You had obligingly given him the bigger sword when you had realised that the 'woman's' sword wasn't exactly wide enough to cover him. Neither of you had made eye contact when you had handed it over without a word because you both knew what it meant and the fact you had obviously seen the bulge of his flaccid dick in the tight shorts.

Which honestly, had only made you wonder how big he was hard, and that was a thought that you usually try to avoid; thinking of your best friend in a sexual situation. Though his pure existence alone makes it very hard.

Kwon Soonyoung doesn't realise how attractive he is and you're kind of grateful about it. Because if that unfairly effortlessly attractive man knows how hot he is, then you know he'll be cocky and dress to show off more often than just for nights out or special occasions, and you would not mentally survive that.

As it is, you're not sure you'll survive the night.

"One day, you two are going to stop being stupid and just fuck it out," Chan comments from your right where he stands in his doctor's outfit; Seungkwan's wearing a matching one somewhere else in the apartment and you really can't tell if it's intentional or not with those two. They're always bickering and acting like they hate each other but they're always the first the other goes to for any reason whatsoever.

"Please make it before the end of summer so I don't lose money," Seungcheol requests from your left, leaning against the wall with you and dressed in a suit just like his own best friend and roommate, wherever she has disappeared to. She's likely with Junhui based on the way the pair have been eyeing each other for the past hour -and since they met really but that's another story entirely.

"You assholes have bets on us fucking?" You gawp in betrayed disbelief at the suited man.

"Yup," Seungcheol confirms shamelessly while Chan tries to sputter out a denial that makes you level the youngest with an unimpressed look. However, it doesn't last because you hear Soonyoung's loud voice even over the music and automatically look over to where your best friend is trying to stop Seokmin from grabbing at his sword. No euphemism even if the plastic is in the right place. "Looks like Seok's going to get further with your boy than you ever have." Seungcheol sniggers. You shove his arm making him laugh harder.

"Swordplay," Chan giggles then wanders off without another word to refill his cup after swallowing the last of its contents.

"Seriously though, you should like, go fuck him," Seungcheol speaks a moment later when Soonyoung has successfully distracted Seokmin by grabbing the younger's hands to make him dance with him. Soonyoung shoots you a world-weary, wide-eyed look that makes you snicker and wave innocently at him.

"You really don't want to lose money, huh."

"It's not even about that, just you two. This has been going on for over a year now; this gross pining shit. Just sit on his dick and ask him on a date, it's not that hard."

"You can't say shit, Cheol."

"Hey, I've fucked her, regularly," he defends with a pout before sipping at his drink.

"Oh yeah, because fucking your best friend who you've been in love with since childhood while encouraging her to go after your friend who she's been mutually eyefucking for the past three months is so much better." You retort sarcastically and give him a look. He can't refute it at all, it's entirely true and he's confided in you enough for you both to know that he's constantly making his own heartbreak worse by continuing to indulge his best friend both in bed and when she comes home and whines over how good Junhui looks.

"We're as bad as each other," he decides after a second.

"Don't lump me with you, I've never fucked him." You scoff and turn back around to naturally locate Soonyoung where he's back to smiling away as he dances with Seokmin and some others.

"You want to,"

"Yeah, I really fucking do," you exhale and swallow down the last of your drink only to frown down into the empty disposable cup. "I need a real drink."

"You know you can't drink around him like this or you will ask to suck his dick." Seungcheol reminds you of the very reason why you're always the designated driver when Soonyoung dresses up.

Because yes, you have come close to getting on your knees in the middle of a club for him. Luckily, Seungcheol had noticed and took you home before you actually acted on the urge to publicly defile your best friend. Unluckily, Seungcheol had noticed and has not failed to mention it at every chance. But at least it's stayed between the two of you.

"At this rate, I'll do it regardless," you mutter, still frowning into your empty cup. "Back in a bit." Seungcheol just grunts to show he heard before you slump off to the kitchen to refill your cup with one of the non-alcoholic beverages lining the counter.

You've barely finished filling your cup when a familiar hand reaches around you and picks it up to start gulping down. Even though you know it's Soonyoung, you still look over your right shoulder where he's chugging down the drink entirely unaware of your thirsty gaze watching the drop of liquid that escapes from the corner of his mouth trail down over his chin and jaw and down his neck to catch on his collar bone. You refrain from leaning in to slurp it up and lick your way up the trail it left all the way to Soonyoung's mouth.

Instead of staring at the way his throat bobs as he swallows down the last drops, you turn back around and wait for him to place the cup down so that you can refill it. And then he grabs it again before you can, making you groan. "Seriously?"

"M'thirsty," he defends barely pulling the cup away and accidentally dribbling some of the liquid from his mouth onto your shoulder. You look at him in disgust. He just grins sweetly and kisses your cheek in a sticky apologetic way before leaning back up to get back to his task of once again, stealing your drink.

At least this time when you've refilled the cup, he doesn't steal it away and lets you actually lift it to your own mouth. You can feel his eyes on you as you drink so you side-eye him questioningly without moving the cup away.

"Are you taking Seungcheol home again?" He asks, stepping closer to you as someone passes too close behind him, his left hand falling to your hip and his right on the counter, sort of caging you in though you know it's unintentional even if you wish it wasn't.

"He can take himself home, he's not drinking tonight," you reply, distracted by the feeling of plastic pressing against you. "Your sword is digging into my ass."

Soonyoung lets go of the counter to tug his sword belt around and lays the toy on the outside of his left thigh leaving him pressed directly against you. You genuinely can't tell if he's even noticed that as he seems to be focused on the conversation judging by the concentrated furrow of his eyebrows. "That's not what I mean and you know it."

"If I know it, wouldn't I respond to what you mean?" You give him a look, puzzled by his own words and hoping he understands that you seem to very much not be having the same conversation here and you are completely unaware of the conversation he's having with you.

"Not when you're both pretending nothing's happening,"

"What?" You nudge him back enough so that you can turn and face him, which admittedly, is not your smartest move when he moves straight back in. He doesn't press against you again but his left foot is between yours as you lean your ass back against the counter. Any closer and his thigh will be very close to pressing to your crotch.

"Come on, I'm your best friend, I think you should at least be honest with me, even if you play ignorant with the others," he frowns and leans heavier onto his right hand on the counter beside your hip, bringing him in closer so that he doesn't have to talk so loudly to be heard over the music. "You two often leave together when we go out. And even though his place is closer than mine, you drop me off first so it's just you two left. I'm not stupid."

"Wait, you think that's so we can go fuck?" You realise with wide eyes.

"It's obvious, you always find each other when we're all together like this and spend the whole fucking night hiding off to the side whispering to each other,"

You can't help but laugh. "Do you all think we're fucking?" He nods. You laugh again. "Oh man, I gotta tell Cheolie this," you start to push off of the counter with every intention of going to find the man knowing he will find it as hilarious as you do, but Soonyoung puts his left hand on your lower stomach to push you back and then he pushes himself against you to pin you there. "Soonyoung,"

"No."

"What? No? No what?"

"I'm not letting you go back to him. You came with me, you're staying with me and leaving with me, no one else." He declares firmly.

You stare up at him trying to decipher what the fuck is actually going on right now, what prompted this sudden conversation and behaviour. Not that Soonyoung has never pinned you before but it's usually playfully as he whines and pouts cutely to get his way, or to just joke around. But he's entirely serious now and looking at you with something kind of dark in his eyes. Admittedly, it's pretty fucking hot. "Are you drunk?" You ask, even if you know he's not; you can't smell any alcohol on him and drunk Soonyoung gets cuddly and clingy, not whatever this is.

"You know I'm not," he places his left hand on the counter on your other side, well and truly caging you in and causing him to lean down a little closer to reach comfortably.

"Then why are you suddenly acting like this?"

"It's not sudden." You give him a look. "Okay, fine, acting on it is but wanting to, that's not sudden. I've wanted to do this for a long time,"

"Then why haven't you?"

"Because I care about you too much," he frowns a little as he takes in your features from up close, gaze catching on your lips for a few seconds before lifting back up to meet your eyes. "There's a bet you know, about us fucking?"

"I just found out." You pull a displeased expression. "Cheol's in on that, you know? He wouldn't bet on us fucking before the end of summer if he's fucking me."

"He is?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "They made it sound like he's against the bet, said he's been trying to stop them from always talking me into it,"

"Yeah, no, he just told me to fuck you. He's always telling me to fuck you."

"Oh," He licks his lips as his eyes divert thoughtfully. "Guess I should stop being a dick to him then,"

"You've been a dick to him?" You ask, genuinely surprised. You really haven't noticed Soonyoung acting badly towards Seungcheol at all.

"Mm, I always take his favourite snacks at movie night." You can't help but burst into giggling laughter at his confession.

Of course, the man doesn't have a single genuinely mean bone in his body and would think purposely taking someone's favourite snacks would be a big dick move. You bet he's been feeling kind of guilty about it while no doubt Seungcheol hasn't even noticed.

"What? Why're you laughing?" He pouts at you.

"Oh, Soonie, you're so fucking cute," you coo and cup his cheeks fondly. He smiles a little dopily at the compliment, the same smile he reserves for you and your doting attention on him even if neither of you has noticed that. The rest of your friends have though.

"Nice ass," You hear before Soonyoung's hips jerk into you when he yelps and tries to escape the slap that landed on his ass.

"Hyung!" He complains, looking over his shoulder to pout at Jeonghan as the man appears from behind your best friend.

You really can't tell exactly what Jeonghan is supposed to be, you think it's some kind of anime character, or something kinky. Maybe both. Either way, his costume is a strange mix of faux black leather and shimmery red lacey wings. And he pulls it off unfairly well considering that you know he hadn't been prepared for the party that morning at all.

"What? Don't look at me like I'm disturbing something," Jeonghan scoffs, reaching around you to grab the same big plastic bottle you had been filling your cup from. Though he stops and looks at the way Soonyoung is very much pressed against you. Jeonghan grins after noticing that Soonyoung's crotch is definitely smushed against your upper thigh; something you have been doing your best to ignore yourself because yes you can feel everything through the thin material covering you both. "Or maybe I am." He smirks at you both.

"What are you supposed to be exactly?" You ask in an attempt to change the topic to one that won't kill your last remaining dregs of sanity. Then again, with the things that come out of Yoon Jeonghan's mouth, you could still be rendered insane but for a reason other than feeling your best friend's dick pressed against you.

"No idea just grabbed some shit from Hao's costume closet." Jeonghan shrugs as he looks down at himself. "Kind of think this might be less about his costume designing and more about sex though."

"He's definitely worn that harness while fucking someone." You agree and reach out to hook your finger over the thick horizontal strap over Jeonghan's chest. You're pretty sure it's directly over his nipples, but the slightly sheer tank top he's wearing underneath the harness kind of obscures your view enough that you don't have confirmation.

"Mm, definitely." Jeonghan agrees and smirks at you. "Want to take it home yourself?"

"And take it from you? I wouldn't dare, you look so handsome, Hannie," You coo, playing along with the flirty banter you two have always partaken in. Not because anything has ever happened between you nor will it, you've discussed it plenty of times to make sure you're both on the same page still. But it's just fun to harmlessly flirt.

"Never said I won't be wearing it," he licks his lips and gives you a suggestive look.

"You're not going home with her," Soonyoung argues firmly, crowding up against you further though his gaze is on Jeonghan in warning, so he misses the way your eyes widen and dart down to where Soonyoung is now pressing his crotch against your hip, his own thigh pressing up between your thighs. Jeonghan doesn't miss it though and cackles, taking the bottle and his cup away entirely without another word.

"S-soonyoung," You stammer, hands fluttering at his sides, wanting to push him back for your sanity but you think putting your hands on his exposed skin will just make you pull him closer.

"Do you have to flirt with him all the time?" He frowns at you, entirely unaware of the screaming in your mind, mostly just sounds with the odd yell of the word penis. He'd probably laugh if he heard it, to be honest, just because of the word penis. He wouldn't even realise it's his penis you're mentally screaming about. "And when I'm right here too. Did you forget I'm here or something?"

"No," You choke out.

"Then why- are you okay?" He suddenly realises how wide your eyes are.

"I can feel your dick," You blurt, unable to think of anything else.

He blinks at you for a moment then looks down at where he's pressed against you as if he hasn't even noticed until now. "Oh," he pulls his hips back and his thigh from between yours making you let out a heavy shaky exhale as your body relaxes a little. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Ha, not the word I'd use."

"What word would you use?" If he was any other man, you'd say the little quirk of his head and innocent eyes locked onto you is fake, just some kind of game, a way to flirt. But it's Soonyoung and you've seen this man miss the most obvious of flirtations since you've known him; the amount of times you or the guys have had to bluntly tell him that someone had been trying to take him home to fuck is frankly absurd. "Stop touching my ass!" His sudden exclamation makes you jump a little while he looks over his shoulder in annoyance, glaring at Seungkwan who's giving him an innocent look.

"I'm very happy that you two are finally doing something about your consistent sexual tension and mutual pining but take it out of my kitchen, please. I don't want to have to burn my home down if you defile my counters." The younger man speaks bluntly with a slightly sweet edge to his words. You can't even see him but you just know that he's got that too sweet smile on his face that always feels more threatening than anything.

"What?" Soonyoung blinks at him, the annoyance of his ass being grabbed melting away. "We're not doing anything."

"Hannie told me you're being possessive and we all know that she likes that so-"

"Hey!" You exclaim offendedly, not because you can argue it, but just more that you're being talked about like you're not there. "She has a name!"

"Well take hyung home and he can moan it for the neighbours to hear." Seungkwan gives you that sweet-threatening smile as he leans around Soonyoung to meet your gaze. "My neighbours don't want to hear it."

"My neighbours won't hear that," you scoff. Soonyoung can't help but frown, he feels like he's just been rejected even though he hadn't even gotten to the point of actually asking to take you home and fuck you like he wants to, like your mutual friends had convinced him you want him to. But your firm dismissal of Seungkwan's words sounds like you putting that boundary securely in place before he can even ask to tumble over it into your arms.

"He's loud-" Seungkwan starts to point out but you're not done talking even if you had taken a quick scoff break.

"I don't live in a cheap-ass building with paper for walls like you do, Kwannie." You finish.

Both men stare at you for a second, Seungkwan at first just blinks in surprise at the fact you're not even disputing the Soonyoung moaning your name part, just whether or not your neighbours will hear. And Soonyoung is full-on gawping at you, mouth open and eyes wide, wondering if this means that boundary even exists between you.

"Does that mean you won't get a noise complaint? Hyung is pretty loud, you know? There's a reason we don't live together anymore."

"I don't know." You reply with a shrug.

"Then go fucking home already and stop humping against my kitchen counter!" Seungkwan grabs Soonyoung by his hips to yank him backwards away from you while the scantily dressed pirate yelps and flails a little at the unexpected action. Then he's shoved towards the kitchen exit while Seungkwan grabs your wrist to tug you along.

You're both too genuinely dumbstruck by Seungkwan's sudden forceful actions to do anything but stumble along until you're both outside of the apartment, shoes in hands and staring in shock at the door that's just been shut in your faces.

"Did we just get kicked out?" You mutter.

Soonyoung nods slowly and then looks at you. "I think we got kicked out for sex."

"Is it still sexile if you're the ones getting kicked out and told to go elsewhere to fuck?" You muse, attention down as you focus on shoving your feet into your shoes, one hand on the wall behind you and the other out in the air pointlessly.

"Uh, reverse sexile?" He offers, dropping his shoes to shove his feet into.

"Sounds like a sex position."

He laughs. "What would that even look like?"

"No idea." You grin at him then figure that well, it seems like you've both been outed enough already seeing as all of your friends have stopped hiding the fact that they expect you to finally have sex, which really implies a mutual attraction. So you suck your bottom lip into your mouth for a second as he frowns down at his shoe that just will not accept his right foot for some reason. "Shall we go find out?"

Immediately, Soonyoung looks up at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"Shall we go find out what reverse sexile looks like?"

"Like…us?"

"Yeah, Soonyoung, us," You confirm with an amused twitch of your lips. "You said you're the only one to go home with me, right?" He nods. "Then let's go home and find out, Young-ah."

"Ye-no, wait." He steps closer and takes your hand gently before you can start walking down the hall to the staircase. His fingers are barely holding onto your own. It's perhaps the most cautious he's ever taken your hand into his. Even the very first time he had boldly laced your fingers together and you had only met ten minutes previously.

"No?" You ask, feeling really kind of stupid all of a sudden. You had been so unusually confident in asking him to go home and fuck you.

"Not because I don't want to because I do seriously, I really want to fuck you." He breathes out, sounding rather affected by the thought alone as he stares at you longingly and holds your hand a little more securely. "I just…I don't want it to wind up like Seungcheol."

"Uh, what about Seungcheol?" You shuffle a little closer while giving him a questioning look.

"Regularly fucking his best friend who has a crush on someone else, while he…while he wants her as more than just company in his bed." The way his expression turns serious and yearning makes your heart start to race a little with hope.

"While he…Are you saying you want more?" You ask quietly.

"Earlier when I said I care about you too much, I meant I care too much to be able to have sex with you if it means nothing. I really fucking like you and I don't want to go home with you like this if you don't feel the same. I can't do that." He shakes his head a little. "As much as I've thought about this, about you and me doing all kinds of kinky shit all over your apartment, and mine when Jihoon isn't there. Or when he is if you're into exhibitionism, I don't know your kinks and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't even notice anyway because he never leaves his fucking room an-" He's rambling at this point, frowning down at your connected hands as he talks.

"Soonyoung." He makes a soft hum of a noise as he looks back up at you with rounded eyes. "We can talk kinks later, I'd really like to get back to the matter of it sounds like you're confessing to me?"

"Oh, right yeah, I guess I am." He chuckles a little and scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. "So uh, yeah, I really like you and uhm, I guess now comes the part where hopefully, you say you like me back but I really don't know if you do because the guys just really said you want to fuck me and-" You cover his mouth with your hand that time to shut up his second bout of nervous rambling.

"I really like you too, Soonie," You confirm softly and giggle at the way his features light up adorably behind your palm. "Can we skip the trial dating bullshit and go straight to being together? I'd like to show you off as my boyfriend," His eyes widen dramatically and then he's nodding rapidly in agreement without dislodging your hand. "You're so cute." You coo and lean in just to press a kiss to the back of your hand over his mouth. He looks utterly betrayed and heartbroken when you lean back. "What?" You play innocent and lower your hand while backing up, lacing your fingers behind your back.

"You can't tease me like that, baby!" He whines, toddling after you and dragging his feet in a sulk as he moves along the carpeted flooring of the hall.

"Tease? Me? Never," You grin at him then stop as your back hits the door to the staircase.

"You are, teased me for the past year. Teasing me now." He continues to mumble away as he nears, though cuts off when you reach out to grab the sword and yank on the plastic to pull him in right up against you. His hands automatically fly up to catch himself on the door above your head while his breath catches in his throat.

"If you're so worried I'm going to keep teasing you, Soonie, you better hurry up and take what you want." You warn in a low voice, chin tilted up so your faces are only inches apart.

Soonyoung groans in the back of his throat before he leans down and seals his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He presses his left forearm flat against the door beside your head so that he can firmly hold your jaw with his right hand and tilt you further into him with his thumb pushing on your chin to urge your mouth open wider and deepen the kiss in a manner much too filthy for a public hallway of your friend's apartment building.

"Oh for fucks sake!" The loud voice of the friend in question forces you both apart to peer over Soonyoung's shoulder to where Seungkwan is in the hallway with the cute neighbour he's recently started to date, their hands together and clearly with one intention in mind while sneaking away from his own party. They're standing outside of the neighbour's slightly open door but Seungkwan is staring at you and Soonyoung in disbelief. "I told you to go home! Not get your booty here!"

"Ha, booty, pirate joke." You snigger and Soonyoung giggles, both at your amusement and the pun he honestly hadn't even noticed.

"You two are fucking useless." Seungkwan decides and lets his neighbour tug him into the apartment. "You better be gone before I'm back!"

"90 seconds, right?!" Soonyoung calls as Seungkwan disappears. The younger's head pops back out to glare at the other and flip him a very heartfelt middle finger before the door actually shuts behind him that time. Soonyoung turns to look at you with a mischievous smirk. "Should we go fuck on his bed just to piss him off?"

"As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather only I hear you like that, Soonie," You pout at him cutely. "I'm not very good at sharing my toys, you know."

"Oh, I'm your toy now?" He muses, reaching down to open the door carefully to back you through it with his other arm wrapping around your waist.

"Mm, mine and only mine to play with when I want, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, yours and yours only, baby." He agrees lowly. "And you're mine."

"I am." You confirm and tilt up to kiss him teasingly. "Let's hurry and get home so I can show you everything that now belongs to you."

A/N; There is more to this but I had to cut it all because it really was me mostly rambling with a sort of hand job thrown in there. The title comes from a conversation in the part I haven't included, by the way. Working title was "Yo ho hoe". But if I continue that part I removed from this, I guess there will be a part 2 as a direct continuation from this and it'll include smut.

#wkcnet #svthub #seventeen x reader #seventeen reader insert #seventeen fic #seventeen friends to lovers au #seventeen f2l au #seventeen hoshi x reader #seventeen soonyoung x reader #seventeen hoshi friends to lovers au #seventeen bestfriend au #seventeen hoshi bestfriend au #seventeen soonyoung friends to lovers au #seventeen soonyoung bestfriend au #seventeen hoshi f2l au #seventeen soonyoung f2l au #seventeen fanfiction #svt x reader

[genericpuff]

From the standpoint of someone who doesn't even like LO that much. Reading through this gave me a strange sense of discomfort? I think. Something about the combination of the essays, and the digs at the author in a lot of posts, and making a community based on it, and the ranting. It made it feel a lot more group ragging on something than normal fandom re-writes. I can't help but want to say something on the subject (0/3)

Gonna respond to all your asks together if that's okay, from what I can glean there's a word limit on mobile (?) so it makes it very interesting to see who's able to put all their thoughts into one big ask vs. who has to cut them up into parts 😆

So I can understand that discomfort, it's actually one that I also initially felt towards the community when I discovered it. Though even more so because when I found out about antiLO being a thing, I was still a MASSIVE fan of LO and my thought was "wow, these people are losers" LOL but then a lot of what they were saying resonated with me more as I realized the story was going nowhere (it was around the trial arc when Eris was revealed to be the 'reason' for Persephone's wrath).

All that said, I don't think I was wrong to feel off back then even though I don't feel that way now. We have our own takes and ways of approaching certain subjects, and how we feel is how we feel.

I will say that I can't, in any way, take credit for 'creating' the community. AntiLO pre-existed me by years and I was simply welcomed in as my opinions of the comic changed. I was a lot more involved in UnpopularLoreOlympus when it was born around the S2 finale of the comic. So... don't give me any sort of credit in 'owning' this community or anything of that sort, I came in during a period when criticism of the comic was becoming more common practice. I'm just also someone who's very verbose and loud in their opinions which appeals to a lot of people in this community, so I get why people might see me as some kind of "pillar" within it or like I'm the loudest person in the room, but I promise you that doesn't mean I have any sort of ownership over this part of the fandom or that I feel my opinions carry any more weight than the people around me. It's just a community, after all, not a religion.

It's true that saying I'm not making money off Rekindled doesn't mean I'm not benefiting off it in other ways. But the 'benefits' are still kinda... nothing? in the grand scheme of things? like okay great I have loads of people reading my stuff every update but like, this is still just Tumblr lmao none of this is real and as soon as Rekindled is over, I might be lucky to bring some of the readers over into my next project, but I doubt whatever I do next will get as popular as Rekindled was. All the "benefits" I get are virtually the same as what people writing fanfiction get on AO3 get or what people doing redraw videos on Youtube get. It's fake Internet points for making fan creations.

And that's okay, because that's sorta just the nature of fandom in general, throughout any niche community. People will be naturally drawn to what's familiar and what I do here appeals to the people who are familiar with LO and the criticisms of it, often people who agree with those criticisms. The Zelda community has LinkedUniverse, Pokemon has Hanamusa, Attack on Titan has communities that are dedicated to loving the anime, hating the anime, and even dunking on people who don't 'get' the anime, Undertale has every single crazy rewrite and rewrites-of-rewrites that have been spawned from its fanbase. Did you know there's an entire community of people who discuss and argue over fire alarms? I didn't, but when I found out about it, it was after listening to a video on Youtube discussing all the interconnected drama of the fire alarm community. Like that's wild and seems so stupid and pointless... but it matters to the people who are in it, and my opinion of how they operate isn't going to change how it makes them feel to be a part of that space. That's kinda just human nature, we create our own little microcosms of things to bond over so for people within those microcosms, any amount of disagreement or discomfort will feel massive in proportion.

I guess the point of what I'm trying to say is that a lot of this stuff feels crazy loud but it's really only that loud because it's occupying a single room.

The reality is that Rekindled is still a very niche project dedicated to a niche webtoon that's a part of a niche medium. As loud as it is within here, it's still only because it's such a closed community. Anyone outside of the Webtoons community has zero clue what it is. The 'attention' that I'm getting is still from other niche people who occupy a very specific interest.

And that's not even exclusive to Rekindled, despite Webtoons attempts to sell LO as a 'worldwide phenomenon', a lot of people don't know it exists and couldn't care less. Does that mean my rantings about the comic and its creator matter any less to me or the people who are interested in them? Not really. Is it all pointless? Maybe, but not everything really needs to have some bigger point. We're all kinda just here spending time talking about something we both love and can't stand. What I say about LO and do with Rekindled is undoubtedly inconsequential and pointless to people who aren't in the room. That's fine. That's why I keep it all in my own house. There are definitely people who talk about it outside of the home but that's far from what I can control.

That said, I think LO also does fall into a very unique category where it's very easy to do rewrites and redraws of it simply because it, in and of itself, is a rewrite. Rekindled is far from being the first "fix it" fic, not only of LO but also of any piece of media in general, it's not really a new phenomenon (but again, when it's loud, it can be easy to go "well clearly YOU had to influence this"). People are drawn to retelling LO or 'fixing' it because LO is based on Greek myth. If it weren't for that, no, I don't think people would be as interested in doing so. It's because we literally have a solid foundation of reference material - the myths and original poems - that we can go "hey, why did LO do this? it should have / could have been xyz". You can't really do that as much with a purely original work besides wish fulfillment of "what if xyz happened" because whatever an original piece of work winds up being is clearly what it was meant to be. We have nothing to compare it against.

But with LO, we know what it could have been because we know what it was trying to be since day 1 - a retelling of the Abduction of Persephone. That's not to say we always knew exactly what Rachel was planning on doing with it, but it's not hard to be disappointed when we see certain mythical stories being established in LO - such as the tale of Eros and Psyche, the Titanomachy, etc. - only to see them get dropped or completely mishandled.

On the one hand I could use HADES and Stray Gods as examples of popular media that don't get 'rewritten' the same way LO does because while they have their own unique interpretations of the myths they're based on, they still feel like properly thought out stories that appreciate the source material. LO, by comparison, feels like it's written by someone who hates Greek myth.

But on the other hand, those rewrites may absolutely exist and I'm just not aware of them because I don't occupy those rooms! The world is only as big as we perceive it to be.

That said, it's always sort of ironic to me when people say Rekindled is "riding off the coattails of LO" because while I can understand their sentiment - because obviously it's a direct re-creation of LO - that opinion seems to operating from the assumption that LO was ever not riding off Greek myth's coattails to begin with.

And no, I don't think my criticizing of LO on an LO-focused blog should in any way be conflated with "media isn't allowed to be bad". I've said this before and I'll say it again, I'm into loads of bad media. I'm also fully capable of enjoying a piece of media but also shit-talking it without actually feeling any sort of vitriol towards it. House M.D. is one of my favorite TV shows but goddamn some of the plots are just so dramatic and out-of-this-world that you can't help but laugh at them (and that's why we have spaces like /r/okaybuddyvicodin LOL). One of my favorite games growing up was Starfox Adventures because I had never played the original Starfox games but I had played loads of Zelda and Adventures was basically Zelda but with Starfox, and I know there are plenty of people who will go "but puff, that game is ass!" and I know! But I love it regardless.

With LO, it's not a matter of "bad media shouldn't exist!" it's a matter of observing what makes it so bad and why that's had a negative impact on both the audience it attracts (primarily teenagers and children) as well as the culture it's taking its ideas from. If LO was just some "so bad its good" webtoon that was easy to enjoy but also poke fun at, I would have zero issue. It's the fact that it's blatantly problematic in its writing and intentions but still hailed as the #1 webtoon on the platform (webtoons in and of themselves being a medium that I've lived in for over a decade so it's virtually impossible to get away from whatever is influencing the culture as a whole) while winning all these accolades for being "brilliantly written" and its creator is given a voice over Greek culture when she herself is not Greek or even well-read on Greek culture in any capacity - that's the issue and why I've spent so much time talking about LO. And if it wasn't me, it would be anyone else, because the problem has been around for ages and people have been trying to get the word out about it for years.

I don't necessarily think every 'fix it fic' is built equally. I think it's a case by case thing. A lot of people are deadass just doing it for fun and to be a part of a community, and I think that's wonderful. There are also people who try to do this but ultimately disrespect whatever the creator was going for by somehow implying that their own original ideas were inferior just by existing, or using their fix-it fics as a way to deliberately harass the original creators (ex. whatever the fuck 'art lore' is on TikTok, based on what I've seen it seems purely made for bullying budding artists and talking shit which is... gross af, but I don't think it's anywhere near the same as readers of LO calling out its highly successful award-winning creator for having zero clue what she's doing with her comic lmao). I don't think a blanket statement of "fix it fics are bad" accomplishes anything because it depends on a variety of factors like the person's intentions and what they're trying to accomplish. Many fanfictions in general could be called 'fix it fics' even if the creator 100% loved the source material with zero issue - because they're still saying "what if xyz happened instead"?

Me, personally? I'm someone who loves Greek myth and who used to adore LO. I was very discouraged and upset when I saw it turned into what it became, and I wanted to try my own hand at creating something new out of the rubble that could give me closure. It's what I choose to do with my time and other people seem to enjoy it as well. I'm sure there's loads to criticize and speculate on regarding my 'intentions' in creating it, but at the end of the day I'm sorta just doing what I want to do with my time because I have a lot of thoughts and ideas I need to get out of my head and many of them are thoughts and ideas that other people like reading about.

If you feel uncomfortable by the amount I talk about it here and the way I talk about it, that's fine. Those are your feelings. There are loads of other antiLO-themed blogs to read that might not give you that same vibe. Even I have certain icks towards certain opinions within the antiLO community, I've seen some people be genuinely shitty and I'm sure that's ironic to hear considering you're describing your own discomfort towards my stuff, but we all have different tolerances towards different things at the end of the day.

I do my part to keep things in my own house of a neighborhood that's really small in the grand scheme of things. It just feels like a big neighborhood if you don't travel. There will inevitably come a day where I'll pack my boxes and move elsewhere, talk about new things and write essays about other topics. That's obviously not today but I definitely don't want this to just be like, my entire identity or the rest of my life LOL it's just something I've chosen to spend my free time doing and I'm content with that. Maybe a year from now I'll feel differently, who knows? At the very least I'm hoping to one day finish Rekindled because no, I don't want this to actually be my identity for the rest of my life, change is a good thing LOL but what that change will bring is, for now, a mystery. Here's hoping wherever I end up at least brings its own uniquely good times like I've had here :' )

Sorry, that was a very long response with a lot of sorta aimless muddling over the topic at hand, but thank you for the opportunity to discuss it regardless ! because I do think it's important to find that 'grounding point' when it comes to stuff like this. because as much as I get riled up over LO, yeah, at the end of the day, it's just a dumb webtoon and I don't wanna go soiling myself over it LOL but I'm also just like... running a Tumblr blog with my personal thoughts and ideas, no more or no less. Even the "attention" I get is still only 200-400 notes per new episode of Rekindled, which pales in comparison to any real metrics of "success" imo LMAO again, it just feels loud because this is a niche community made up of a lot of the same names and faces; step outside of it and no one gives a shit LOL

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

[accio-victuuri]

(candy vault) : alexander mcqueen shoes, nike off white and yibo’s missing mole 🤍

this fandom has lots of candies in the past years and there are ones that fall through the cracks or things that i simply wanna talk about. also for the benefit of new turtles who probably missed it & a good trip down memory lane for those who’ve been here for a while. i made other posts similar to this before and i haven’t done a good old mini compilation so here ya go. ^^

2/23/2021 WYB was in Beijing, participating in the recording of CCTV’s Lantern Festival program in the evening. The actual broadcast was 2/26/2021.

In the materials initially sent out by YBO, for the photos, you couldn’t see AM shoes. Maybe the shoot was better off focusing on his face, which I totally agree, but it was like they didn’t want to focus on it that much. We only saw the shoes when they released the BTS video where it would be tricky to crop it out.

During the actual performance he changed into a more comfortable looking Jimmy Choo shoes. He was wearing AM outfit so it made sense that the shoes should match too. This should’t really be a big deal or even a CPN, only because changing shoes is sort of normal at events like this. Maybe he was more comfortable with the Jimmy Choo, although the choreography for this performance is not that complicated like his other routines. The way I remember it, WYB usually sticks to the shoes he has on.

The CPN alarm bells started going off tho when ZZ flew from Beijing to Shanghai wearing the same style McQueen shoes. He had shooting back in 2/24 and there were some talk that he was more than a half hour late as planned on set. So going by our collective galaxy brain, they could have spent some time together during late 2/23 and some time on 2/24 which is after the CCTV shoot. WYB probably lent the shoe to him or he just got it from their shared closet lol. This is why ZZ was sort of late, because he was with WYB. The pattern of ZZ being later than usual on set when he is with WYB is something that still happens this year. I’m not implying that he is slacking off when he is with WYB but more of just adjusting his schedule so he can accommodate the love of his life. they both deserve that in between their busy schedules.

maybe this is why YBO didn’t want to highlight that on the materials they released 2/26 ; because they knew where the shoe went 😂😂😂

While we’re in the subject of shoes, let’s take it further back with their matching nike off white in 2018. It’s one CPN that is often given as an example but I haven’t discussed on here.

AAAAAHHHHH! I miss the days when they could still wear Nike shoes. Oh well….

Looking through the airport pictures of ZZ before joining the CQL group from 2016 to 2018, there are no pair of Nikes that could often be seen in pictures of him. There are 2 back in 2017. Before CQL, ZZ had quite a variety of shoes, including a few pairs from Adidas. Like WYB, it is obvious that he likes to buy Nike co-branded products, likes to grab the latest models, and even buys more for collection.

Now let’s focus first on the shoes, it’s a collab of Nike air vapormax X off white. There are two shoes of the same style but in different colors. The black model will be available at 3/30/2018 and the white will be available at 4/18/2018. We know that at the time, WYB will surely have what’s new when it comes to NIKE. It’s either it will be sent to him cause he has a relationship with the brand or he will buy it himself. He is known to always wear the latest designs released. He is also a collector, so he most likely bought the black and white version.

WYB wore the white version on 4/28 and ZZ wore the black model on 5/8 based on photos.

As for ZZ, he was recording an episode for a show and he also used this shoe for the rehearsal. It is the same show where he had to dance and the choreography was taught by WYB. We’ve seen this in the BTS and ZZ talked about it himself.

WYB was seen again with the pair during PD101 on 5/10. It’s funny cause this is the same day where XZ was filmed candidly behind the scenes and he said he hasn’t seen LWJ all day.

These two. Honestly. They only formally “met” and then started shoot 4/16 and it hasn’t even been a month but they already have a couple shoe and ZZ was out there emoting about missing LWJ/WYB? It’s a common discussion that leads to alternative timelines like DT or 2017 or it could just be that it’s one of those rare instance where you connect with someone so quickly.

I have 3 possible explanations:

1. It’s totally unrelated. They bought their pairs separately since they like the style and collab.

2. WYB gave the shoe to XZ. I am a fan of both of them giving gifts to each other. And if you are someone who believed XZ gave him a lego set even before they started filming as a gesture of goodwill then this should make more sense to you. Also WYB is known to give gifts and that includes shoes ( for example SDC 3, he gave out multiple pairs ). This reasoning is not necessarily a CPN of them being boyfriends, but more of being close enough to give each other gifts. and not just the usual one you would give to a colleague cause if WYB only has the white and XZ has the black, it’s a couple shoe. WYB low key hinting at the prospect if them being a pair and XZ accepting it.

3. They bought it together, as you would when you’re with a friend and are scrolling through shopping apps together. I think there are fake rumors of that, the two, in between takes scroll through their phones and buy each other stuff or same style clothes. Again, it doesn’t necessarily mean boyfriend behavior, but more of being close enough to do that.

A clue for that is WYB was seen with the black pair during CQL filming around early 6/2018. You can clown that he is wearing ZZ’s shoes or he did buy the 2 kinds for his own and ZZ got the black only.

Lastly is the stolen mole!!!!! ♥️

Since cpfs are obsessing over WYB’s very visible mole from the Bazaar shoot.

It’s one of my favorite fake and it basically says, The reason why WYB cares so much about ZZ’s mole under the lip, is because WYB also had one like this when he was little. The elders in the family said it’s something good and it means he will have a happy life. However the mole disappeared. Or i guess in his case it’s not as prominent and has faded instead.

While filming, GG has scenes where he didn’t have make up or it gets taken off because of the heat. WYB looks at him closely and points out his lip mole, saying that he had something like that before but it disappeared. GG then added that his mom told him that his mole appeared only after a while when he was young.

That’s when WYB said GG stole his mole. When it disappeared, the mole transferred to GG 😂😂😂

Maybe this is why WYB is so fixated with his mole that he even includes it in his drawing of XZ/WWX.

-END.

#Youtube #bjyx #yizhan #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

[artiststarme]

Intrusive Thoughts

This is a fic based on this post from yesterday. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

It wasn’t unusual for Eddie to say something completely unexpected out of the blue. In fact, it was common practice for him to voice some of the strangest shit Steve has ever heard. He had some of the most concerning intrusive thoughts that Steve had ever borne witness to. From minor comments about jumping into traffic to bizarre mentions of pulling strangers' ponytails out of nowhere, Eddie has said some strange things. But sometimes, he still manages to surprise him. 

This particular time, they were walking through downtown Chicago on a long-weekend trip. Eddie had badgered Steve for weeks to get a weekend off to take a short vacation up to the city to see a metal concert. Steve didn’t really want to go to a concert that he knew was going to be more screaming than singing but Eddie could be very persuasive when he wanted to be, and persistent. After being annoyed for three days in a row, Steve’s stubbornness faded and he agreed to take the time off work, drive to Chicago with Eddie, and keep him company doing ‘touristy’ things for a few days. 

He had to admit too, he was having a good time despite his initial reservations. Chicago was a beautiful city and there was a lot more to do here than there was in Hawkins. They’d hit up a few touristy spots, had appreciated the wonderful architecture, and had put their fakes to good use to visit a bar or two. He was getting a little concerned about Eddie though. 

On their walk to the concert venue one night, Eddie muttered, “I’m having the Midwestern urge to jump into traffic. You know, like a deer.”

At the time, Steve just nodded at him. It was 8 PM on a Friday and he was going to have to deal with a lot more noise than Eddie apparently wanting to jump in front of cars going 50 mph. So, he kept his mouth shut but grabbed a hold of Eddie’s wrist for the rest of their walk. This weirdo could think about it but there was no way in hell Steve was actually going to let him walk into the busy street. Fucking idiot. 

The concert was just as insufferable and loud as Steve expected it to be. But the beaming smile Eddie had on his face for the rest of the night and into the early morning was worth the start of a migraine that Steve had to deal with. He’d do anything to keep Eddie happy. Even if that meant sticking out in a large group of metalheads and punks wearing a polo and light wash jeans. 

The next day, Eddie was still riding his high from the concert. He was talking a mile a minute and practically vibrating in leftover excitement from last night. They were walking through the downtown area in search of something for lunch when they had to cross a bridge. Steve was watching the boats glide through the water on the river and Eddie was staring harshly at the slow-moving woman and child in front of them. When the mother and child stopped walking completely to peer over the edge at a boat, Eddie grunted angrily and leaned closer to whisper into Steve’s ear. 

“Ah, the Midwestern urge to push the miniature human off the edge,” he rolled his eyes and bumped shoulders with Steve as though he expected agreement. 

Instead, Steve’s head snapped to look at him in alarm. “Um… no. I love you but goddamn. Let’s not do that.”

He was able to remain a calm, albeit slightly alarmed, composure on the outside but on the inside he was astounded. Eddie’s violent thoughts were escalating and those were just the vocal ones that Steve knew about. What else was he thinking that he wasn’t unintentionally saying out loud? Meanwhile, Steve was thinking to himself, ‘what the fuck is wrong with this guy?’ 

“Relax Stevie. Ooo, can we stop and get pizza? They have deep dish here!” Steve just vaguely nodded and let him drag him across the street to the pizza parlor. What else was he supposed to do other than ignore his concerns for the time being?

Later that night when they were back in their hotel room, Steve decided to bring it up to Eddie. “Hey man, remember what you said earlier about pushing the kid off the bridge? Do you get thoughts like that a lot?”

Eddie looked at him confused. “What do you mean? I never think about hurting kids.”

“Seriously? You told me earlier today that you wanted to push that ‘miniature human’ off the bridge when they were walking really slow in front of us!” Steve raised his voice slightly, feeling a bit manic as he gestured his hands for emphasis. 

“Stevie, that doesn’t sound like something I would say. Are you sure it isn’t something that you thought about and are trying to blame me for?” His eyes turned concerned and he tilted his head as if to analyze Steve.

“Don’t turn this around on me! I don’t think about pushing children from high ledges!”

“You have to because this thought came from somewhere and it wasn’t from me!” 

There was a moment of silence between the two of them where Eddie was trying to remember if he actually had thought about it and mentioned it to Steve earlier while Steve panicked. Maybe it was him that thought about it. But that brought a whole other slew of problems. Why was Steve thinking about throwing children off of high surfaces? Was he reverting to the jerk he was back in high school? He thought he’d made progress but maybe not if he was thinking about hurting innocent, but very slow-moving, individuals. 

Eddie patted his shoulder and drew his attention back to him, “hey man, I’m sure it’s fine. We all have thoughts like that sometimes, okay? Don’t overthink it. I’m going to go take a shower, you good?”

“Um, yeah,” Steve nodded. “I’m just going to call Robin and check in.”

“Sounds good, man. I’m going to be singing in there but I’ll stick to the songs you like. If you have any requests, just pop your head in and let me know.”

Steve laughed and threw a towel at him, “go take your damn shower!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Eddie chuckled and ducked into the bathroom. 

Steve’s smile dropped as soon as he was out of sight. Was he the one having intrusive thoughts? He could’ve sworn that Eddie had been the one to say it but he also had several head injuries under this belt. Arguably, Eddie’s memory would be better and more reliable even with his ADHD than his would be… Right?

He dialed Robin’s number in a daze, barely even registering the dial tone and only tuning back in when he heard her voice over the receiver. “Hello, Buckley residence. Is this Steve?”

“Hey Robs,” he said unenthusiastically. She, of course, immediately picked up on his downtrodden mood and moved to fix it. 

“What’s wrong? Did Eddie do something? You’re four hours away right now but I can find a ride and be there in four and a half to kill him. If he so much as hurt your feelings, bruised them at all, I will start planning his murder this very second. Just say the word, Steve. I will take him out, no questions asked,” she rambled.

Steve just sighed. “I’m just confused. Earlier today, I could’ve sworn he said he had ‘a Midwestern urge’ to push a kid off a bridge we were walking on. But when I brought it up to him to hear what the fuck that was supposed to mean, he said it was my thought and he never had it. Am I a bad person, Robin?”

“No Steve, of course not! Aside from your frequent episodes of passive aggressive bitchiness, you’re the nicest person I know! And even when you are being a sassy bitch, it’s justified!” She reassured him.

“I thought about pushing a kid off of a bridge earlier today! That’s not nice at all!” Steve said in panic. He didn’t think she was understanding the severity of his thoughts. 

“Steve, you practically have six kids of your own. There is no way you would’ve thought about pushing a kid off the ledge. Also, “a Midwestern urge”? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. It had to have been Eddie that said it.”

“But-”

“Steve, Eddie’s memory sucks worse than yours does which honestly, I didn’t even know was possible until we became friends with him. Between his nonexistent brain-to-mouth filter and his ADHD, he can’t remember anything. I am 100% positive that he’s the one that said that. You’re a good person and you’re nothing like King Steve was in high school, okay? You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be your best friend if you were still a jerk. Who do you take me for? Don’t insult me!” She simultaneously comforted, raged, and belittled. As always, Steve was impressed with her ability to do all three so effectively. 

“I’m sorry, you’re right. You wouldn’t be my friend if I was still an asshole. I was just worried after-”

Robin cut him off again. “Hey, you don’t need to be worried. You’re fine. Where is Eddie? I want to speak with him.”

“Rob-”

“Put Eddie on the phone, Steve! I have things to say to him. If you don’t give him the phone so I can yell at him, I’m going to get a ride and proceed with my murder plan. Do not test me, Dingus!” She screeched through the phone. 

“Jesus Christ, fine.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and yelled to Eddie in the bathroom where the water was no longer running. “Eds! Robin wants to talk to you, come here.”

He heard something fall, a muffled curse, and a subsequent thump before the bathroom door slid open and out stumbled Eddie. His hair was still wet and he only had a towel wrapped around his waist. “Yeah?”

Steve stared at the tattoos on his chest for a full minute until he heard Robin clear her throat. He darted his eyes up to look at Eddie’s face from where they rested on his torso. Eddie’s eyes were flooded with amusement and a smirk was stretched across his face. “See something you like, Stevie?”

He frowned through a rapidly spreading blush and held the phone out to him. “Don’t get smug now, asshole. Robin wants to tear you a new one, here.”

“What? What did I-”

Steve could hear some of what Robin yelled over the phone starting with, “Stop trying to manipulate my best friend, you maniac! He’s had at least three concussions, dipshit. It’s a miracle he even remembers all of our last names!”

He heard a litany of very creative insults for a solid five minutes before Eddie told her, “alright, I promise I won’t accuse Steve of having my own intrusive thoughts ever again. Have a good night. Mhmm, bye now.”

He hung up the phone and turned to Steve. His eyes were big and surprised and his bottom lip quivered a little bit. “Look Stevie, I know you’re probably still mad that I unintentionally freaked you out by making you think you were going crazy. But your best friend is really scary and I really need a hug right now so can we revisit the apologies later?”

Steve just laughed and opened his arms wide so Eddie could jump into them. They’d have to talk about Eddie pushing his intrusive thoughts onto others but for now, they would hug and enjoy a peaceful night in their hotel on vacation in Chicago. Life couldn’t get better than this.

(@anzelsilver @zerokrox-blog thanks for your ideas in the comments of the last post, I made sure to include them in this one!)

Permanent tag list: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1

#robin gives steve a huge hug when they get back to Hawkins but starts hitting eddie for hurting her bestie #Eddie's memory miraculously gets better when Robin starts threatening him with physical violence #once in a while Steve will say something completely random and weird just to watch Eddie confusedly claim responsibility for it #Steve forgives but he's also a big fan of payback #I'll die on that hill #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #protective robin buckley

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

Never a Bad Time for a Hug

Here's another little ficlet inspired by the brilliant @haysgrove and this post.

"This is ridiculous," Logan scoffed and folded his arms over his chest as he sat at his desk chair with Roman and Virgil hovering over him.

"C'mon, Specs. You love taking people literally!" Roman goaded.

"Just because I frequently misunderstand idioms and turns of phrase, doesn't mean I actually enjoy doing so."

"It'd give you a chance at petty revenge for every time he's caught you making a dad joke or punning?" Virgil offered.

"That hardly seems worth the effort. Besides he'd never let me live down initiating a hug."

"Then think of it this way," Janus cut in from where he was leaned against the doorway. "Physical affection has been known to improve both physical and mental health, so showing physical affection to Patton, Thomas's Heart, can only have good benefits for Thomas as a Whole. Help him live a long healthy life and all those other things you're always going on about."

Logan sighed. "That does make some sense," he conceded.

"So you'll play?" Roman asked excitedly.

Logan looked to Virgil and held up a notecard. "Can I use 'bet' in this context?"

"Technically," he nodded. "It's more of a challenge thing though. Like, when Patton actually told us there was never a bad time for hug..." he gestured to Logan, who nodded in understanding.

"Lol. Bet," Logan replied flatly.

"Exactly. Or, another example, I've got this in the bag and you guys are goin' down!"

"Bet," Logan replied.

"Yeah, you got it," Virgil encouraged.

Janus nodded. "Think of it as a newer rendition of 'you wanna bet?' that Thomas used when he was younger, or also 'betcha can't'."

"Ah! Yes, I see. Does this also apply to the phrase 'you bet' when agreeing to do something for or with someone?"

"I mean, yeah," Virgil nodded. "That one isn't really the most common use, but it works. It's basically a term of agreement."

"Un-der-stood," Logan said each syllable as he wrote on another notecard. "Thank you, Virgil."

Virgil gave a two finger salute.

"Alright, are we done with the whole vocab lesson thing?" Roman asked impatiently. "Can I go win now?"

"No. Cause I'm gonna win," Virgil grinned mischievously and dropped through the floor to find Patton before Roman got to him first.

"Ha! We'll see about that!" Roman retorted and followed suite.

Logan remained where he was reviewing a small stack of notecards.

"Not going to join in the chase?" Janus asked.

"Hm?" Logan glanced up. He shook his head. "No, I'll be bidding my time. If I'm going to participate in these shenanigans, then I intend to get the most out of it I can. Which would include catching Patton off guard."

"That's devious of you, Logan," Janus commented, arching his scaled brow in surprise.

The Embodiment of Logic smiled. "Thank you."

Janus blinked. "I never thought I'd be alarmed by you, but here we are..." he shook his head. "Best of luck to you."

"To you as well. You'll need it."

---

"Uh. Virge, whatcha doin', kiddo?" Patton asked in confusion as the Embodiment of Anxiety seated himself on Patton's foot.

"Taking you up on your offer," Virgil explained, hugged Patton's leg. "Never a bad time a hug, right?"

"Uh. Well, I'm mean, yeah, but I'm not sure this actually qualifies as a hug though, hon."

"Sure it does. My arms are wrapped around you, right?"

"Well, that's true," Patton conceded. "You okay though? This isn't really how you usually ask for a hug."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just takin' you up on your offer."

"Uh, o-okay," Patton nodded and picked up his glass of lemonade. "Well, I was gonna head into the living room-"

"Oh yeah, go ahead, don't mind me."

Patton waited a beat for Virgil to move. "Alright," he shrugged and stepped in that direction, moving the leg with Virgil attached to it with surprising ease.

---

"Good evening, Padre," Roman greeted as Patton stood over the stove diligently stirring in a pot of boiling spaghetti and snuggled his way under Patton's arm.

"Hey, munchkin," Patton smiled, if a bit puzzled. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," Roman replied leaning his head into Patton's shoulder. "Just taking you up on your kind and generous off- Ow!" He jumped back when Virgil, still sitting on Patton's foot, pinched his leg.

"Boys, behave," Patton said warningly.

"He started it!" Roman objected, pointing to the gremlin on the floor.

"Well, I'm ending it. Virgil?" He cast a stern look to the Embodiment of Anxiety.

Virgil rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry for pinching your leg even though you totally deserved it."

"Virgil..."

"I'm sorry for pinching your leg," he grumbled.

Patton turned an expectant look on Roman, who folded his arms petulantly.

"I accept your substandard apology."

"Close enough," Patton sighed. "Okay, Virgil, kiddo, I'm sure you're having fun hanging on my foot like that for whatever reason, but I need to strain the pasta and it's very heavy and I don't want to spill any hot water on you. Can I please have my foot back?"

---

Patton snuggled happily back against the couch, pulling the hood of his cat onesie over his head and settled in as the opening credits to The Rescuers started. He jumped in surprise as arms wrapped over his shoulders and a head rested against his, pushing his hood over his eyes.

"Who in the world?..." he reached over his head, trying to find whoever was hanging from his shoudlers. Whoever it was snickered and ducked out of the way of Patton’s swinging arms.

"Roman is that you again?"

"Not me, honey-bee," Roman answered. "I have your cocoa though."

Patton managed to push his hood up enough to see Virgil perched on the arm of the couch and gave him a puzzled look. Virgil helpfully held up both hands and shrugged.

Patton tried to spin around to catch his captor off guard. He managed to throw them both off balance and whoever had a hold of him tumbled to the floor with a surprised curse and a laugh. Patton sat up and glanced around, but whoever had a hold for him seemed to have sunk from the room.

---

"Good morning!" Patton greeted cheerily as Janus slunk into the kitchen.

"Morning," Janus replied with a slight shiver. He stood behind Patton and wrapped his all six arms around the other's chest, effectively pinning Patton's arms to his sides. He hummed contentedly. "You're warm."

"Um. I also can't really move. And I'm trying to get coffee started before everyone else is up. So?..."

Janus harrumphed and shifted so Patton could have use of his arms again and nestled his forehead against the back of Patton's neck.

The Embodiment of Emotions started. "You're freezing! Janus-"

"My heated blanket short circuited and I can't find Remus," he complained.

"You poor thing," Patton tutted and managed to turn in Janus's arms, and ran a hand up and down his spine. "What happened to your blanket?"

"It's old. Happens. Remus can fix it." He shivered again and tried to nuzzle closer still.

"Why don't you go sit on the couch with a blanket and I'll be there in just a second with some coffee to warm you up."

Janus peeled himself away from Patton and trudged to the couch. He curled up in a ball, pulling the blanket over his head. He was almost asleep again from the cold when a gentle hand rested on his back.

"Sit up for me, sweetheart," Patton encouraged. He held out a thermos when Janus managed to get himself upright. Janus took the warm metal and hugged it to his chest.

"Thank you," he murmured as Patton slipped on the couch behind him and wrapped them both in the blanket, trying to keep in some of the warmth. It wasn't the inconveniencing hug he'd planned for the morning, but it would have to do.

---

Patton wrapped his arms over his stomach and groaned. So maybe that bowl of ice cream was a bad idea after all... It wasn't fair. Logan could eat ice cream with no ill effects. In fact, so far as he knew only he and Roman had bad reactions to ice cream. His pout turned to a grimace as his stomach gurgled again, and let out an icky sounding flatulence.

Without warning the door swung inward with a sudden Bang! as it hit the wall. Patton cried out in surprise, nearly falling from the toilet as he did so.

Remus wordlessly pranced over to him and gently wrapped his arms over his shoulders, resting his cheek on Patton's head, and hummed happily, apparently unbothered by the awful stench in the room.

Patton sat there frozen and awkward till Remus finally stood again and left a kiss on the top of his head and patted his back, then pranced out of the room again, slamming the door behind him, causing Patton to jump again.

---

"Okay," Patton started as he stood before his fellow Sides who were seated on the couch in front of him. "I will admit that the increase in hugs has been nice. That said, I will also admit that I...misspoke before when I said there was never an inappropriate time for a hug. When someone is sitting on the toilet is definitely a bad time for a hug."

Remus snorted and stiffled a giggle behind his hand, drawing a scowled from Roman who swatted the backside of his head.

Patton gave both twins a warn look. "While I appreciate the sentiment because I was not feeling very good, and I still stand by not needing to ask for a hug every time, I would like to establish asking for hugs in the bathroom and knocking. Knocking is a good thing to do, looking for a hug or not. Okay?"

Virgil raised a hand. "So all other hugs are still free game?"

Patton brow pinched in suspicion. "And when I'm cooking. Ask when I'm cooking. Just in case you don't know I have a knife or something and I don't want anyone getting hurt. So ask before when I or someone else is cooking and in the bathroom, a quick hug while brushing teething is okay, hug on the toilet...less okay. And knock. Knocking is always good to do. Okay? But yes, for the most part, I'm okay with not asking before needing a hug. Deal?"

Logan held up an index card between his first and middle finger. "Alright, bet," he replied with a small smirk. Without further warning, he tackled Patton to the floor, taking care that his head didn't hit the floor.

Patton yelped in surprise as he and Logan went tumbling to the floor, before either had time to recover the others jumped forward piling on one another, in a heap of laughter and limbs.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #virigl sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #my writing

[certifiedlurker]

I am not someone to make posts. This isn't even my og blog. It's more of a decoy. But I am here because I need answers. I watched kinnporsche and out of that my favorite couple story was that of vegaspete. I am more into taboo sort of things so there you go. But here is the thing, why do y'all keep supporting Pete's actor. If almost regularly anecdotes of him abusing those around him comes to light, then this is not just a case of young immaturity.

I know no one is pure, good. Not even our most favourite actors. Hey Brendan Fraser may have some dirty laundry in his closet, maybe even Britney Spears. We don't know them. But if we get to know about how religiously shitty someone is ( like jk Rowling): do we still go on and on gushing about the person?

I often feel that the persona that the actor built is what's been considered. I know we all have our own little personas and what we preach is not always something we practice. But come on! Every other day you see something in the tag that blares of alarm bells.

Wiser people have adviced me to not be so involved when it comes to famous people. And they are right. Because every other day we project our own morality on this unknown person and then get mad when they turn out to be entirely different. I have also been told that complaining online without any core action that can bring about change- is meaningless. And I agree. But my point is why is there not a discussion going on among fans? Like vegaspete are characters and not the actors...you can admit that you have enjoyed an idea but still initiate a discussion. Right?

#vegaspete #biblebuild #build jakapan

[thesaltyace]

omgggggg

I fucking HATE our neighbor

you might recall that when we moved in about a year ago, the motherfucker caught us outside and proceeded to talk and talk and talk without giving us a chance to get a word in edgewise, and within 5 minutes was verbally bullying us with religious evangelical Christian talk under the assumption that OF COURSE we shared his religion and worldview!

I posted a rant on FB about it and a few acquaintances seemed a little confused as to why someone bringing up religion within the first five minutes of meeting someone isn't appropriate. And here's the thing - it's not that it's inappropriate in and of itself. But it's sure fucking alarming when that person is pushy about it and you feel like saying something contrary could potentially land you in danger. It's not that bringing up religion before you know a person is itself a problem - it's that the folks who tend to do this are batshit crazy far-right Christians who are 100% ready to embrace fascism because they're certain they'll be on top in that scenario.

So anyway I posted another rant on FB today calling out those "I don't understand why that would be a problem" folks because my spouse had another interaction with this neighbor today that really drives it home that "I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO".

Spouse went outside to put the trash and recycling in the bins, and the neighbor was washing his car outside (which is right next to the bins). Quick reminder that only a couple weeks after moving here we started exclusively parking behind the house specifically to avoid interacting with him (since he only has a parking space out front). The neighbor saw Spouse and started talking to them, immediately veering off into a rant about how if he came into power he would kill all the Democrats and everyone in prison. Justification? The Bible.

Huh. Yeah. So, uh, THIS is why I had a knee-jerk reaction to the guy bringing up his religious beliefs (and doing so in a forceful manner that didn't allow for us to disagree). You see this, yes? He feels totally comfortable expressing that absolutely horrifying position to his neighbor. Why? Because he assumes everyone else either does or should agree with him, just like that whole religious discussion on day one which I knew was a big fucking red flag. And I would bet every penny I have that he's also a raging white supremacist. He hasn't explicitly made that clear, but I'm sure he'll volunteer it any day now.

Anyone who thought my initial reaction to the guy was excessive or unfair should carefully consider what kind of red flags they're willingly overlooking when "nice" white people are just "sharing their religion" with you. There's no way in hell this guy would ever come into power and kill the people he thinks deserve it... but he sure votes for people would can and would. Don't make excuses for them or wave it off as harmless. It's not.

And no, I don't feel comfortable continuing to live next to this dude but we also can't move so that best we can do is continue to try to avoid him. Not only that, but honestly? In this city it's likely we'd land ourselves next to fascists again even if we did move. What the actual fuck. Please stop the world, I'd like to get off. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with people?

[atwentywhore]

Hi! No hate at all (I love your blog) but I was curious about your post about true-crime. Can you explain why you hate them? I for one find them fascinating and very informative. You can’t erase history and these are stories that need to be told!

Hello! First off, thank you for the kind words! I appreciate it 😊

Before I answer your question, I will say this: I am by no means an expert in this subject and what I am about to say is purely my opinion. However, if you do feel the need to research further (which I recommend), I’m sure google will be much more informative and explain things much better than I will. I will do my best to articulate though!

I’m sure at this point it is no shock to my followers/friends that I am not a big fan of true crime to begin with. Which is saying something, because when I was younger I was definitely all over it. Whether that be documentaries, docuseries, podcasts, crime scene photos, 911 calls, etc. I was consuming that content at an alarming rate and almost became desensitized to it as a whole (which is NOT something to brag about mind you). It wasn’t until I truly looked within and asked myself why I found this content so fascinating. Why was I so unbothered by actual peoples suffering? That’s when I was realized that this isn’t something I should be consuming for entertainment. There is nothing fun or entertaining about the real life suffering of my fellow human beings.

That was when a switch really flipped and I started seeing more videos/posts about people who were the friends and families of the victims begging people to stop sharing their loved ones stories, telling people how horrific it was to see people talking about these terrible things like they were nothing and having to relive the trauma they dealt with over and over again. And that is exactly what happens with most of these docuseries about serial killers/murderers in general. And yes, in case you haven’t guessed it, this is 100% in reference to the new J*ffrey D*hmer docuseries….

This whole series was framed as being informative and really trying to tell the victims stories, not J*ffrey’s. Yet, it did the complete opposite. And if you pay attention and listen, you will see that the families who initially agreed to this were lied to and are now disgusted by how the whole series of events are being portrayed. This docuseries isn’t about the victims, it couldn’t care less about them. And I don’t care if you agree or disagree because the real people affected by his actions are not happy with it, and neither should you.

I think we really have to sit down and ask ourselves why we seek out content about other peoples suffering, especially when those were real people. What makes it so informative? What does this docuseries give you that a quick google search won’t? Why won’t we, as fellow human beings, listen to others who have been affected by these horrible tragedies and not consume this content? This series was not made to shed light on his actions, it was a pay check. One they didn’t even share with the families that lived through the events you now watch on screen.

And to your point of “these stories need to be told”… D*hmer, G*cy, B*ndy, etc. are some of the most well-documented serial killers in history. There is no shortage of content or information on them. What is the point of constantly rehashing the atrocities they committed every other year? If you’re curious, look it up yourself.

And it doesn’t just stop with docuseries, it’s most true-crime content in general. Over the years, people seem to have forgotten that these horrific stories they are listening to/watching are about real people. People who can’t give their consent to have their story told. Or even just families who were never asked if it was okay to share this information. Imagine you are scrolling through tik-tok and come across a video of someone telling the story of a loved-one of yours who was murdered. Can you imagine how triggering that must be? Now this isn’t to say that all true-crime content is like this. Some are “ethically sourced” (for a lack of better term) but I would hazard a guess to say that most of this content is not.

Please keep in mind that I am not saying that if you consume this type of content that you are a terrible person. I cannot tell you to not listen to these podcasts or watch these tv shows, but what I can say is be mindful. Are the families/people affected by what you are about to watch okay with it? Have they even been consulted? If not, why would you continue?

Anyways, that was a super long winded answer, but I hope this helps explain my viewpoint. I literally wrote this out in a google doc before transferring it over here. Let me know if you have any other questions 😊

#taylor talks #anons #anon ask #true crime #this was a doozy

[afro-hispwriter]

ALICIA CLARK X FEM DIXON READER

After Ricks disappearance (twd) and Fixing the plane era(ftwd)

F/I- first initial

Warnings- language, implied smut

a/n- i wrote this a long time ago, its been posted on on wattpad for a while so i decided to post it on here… Enjoy!

Rick was gone, things were falling apart. Your dad, Daryl left the communities to join search parties all the way until he was the last one searching. Michonne and you wanted to keep looking but her pregnancy was to far along, and you basically took care of her and Judith. The atmosphere feels familiar just like when Carl died, you and him were best friends, you supported him in every one of this decisions even helped him get with Enid.

But this felt worse.

The person who has made sure everybody survives is dead. The man who was a mentor to you, the man who saved your father in countless occasions is dead. Morgan left almost 2 years ago and nobody heard from him. You knew Rick and him were close, he helped Rick when he came out of hospital. He deserves to know what happened and you will make sure of it.

-

"I want to go out and see the world for myself and I want to find Morgan." You said at dinner to Michonne and surprisingly who joined your dad.

"Excuse me what, you want to leave a whole state and travel to Texas just to see the world and find Morgan and for what?" Asked Michonne raising an eyebrow. Your dad sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"I agree kid. Why?" He asked looking at you.

"Ok first I'm pretty sure I'm 18, I'm supposed to be enrolling for college planning out my life, seeing what else is out there. I can take of myself of the time I have been surging in this world I can make it I'm sure if it. And second all of us know how much Rick meant to Morgan, I can go to Texas and tell him what happened maybe he will even come back even if it's for a little bit." You said enthusiastically. The adults shook their heads taking in the information.

"I'll think about it." Said your dad and Michonne nodded going back to eating.

"There's gotta be another reason you wanna leave." Said Daryl as you walked to your home.

"I already said why Dad." You said looking ahead

"No, you didn't I know ma own kid." He said stopping and he grabbed your arm so you would stop as well making you roll your eyes.

"I hate the atmosphere that is going on, it's like when Carl died but worse and I hate it. I just need to go, I need fresh air Dad, i need to see whats out there maybe even help people." You said throwing your arms in the air looking up at the sky. Daryl smiled, you would always talk about helping people when you were just 4 years old. But now that the apocalypse happened he never thought he'd actually have to let you be on your own anytime soon, maybe it was time.

"Alrigh I'll talk to Michonne tomorrow, I'll get ya that trip." He said and you smiled before pulling him into a big hug.

"Thank you father." You said and he chuckled.

-

"Ok y/n, ya have a high range walkie(i know those don't exist for very long distances)for when you get farther and farther away from ere and you have food to last a month or so and water for a week or two. And gas in the car to last Ya couple miles at least to get out of Virginia. A map, a gun with 2 rounds, and please try to put notes or something out there to tell me your alive, please I don't want to go out lookin for ya. Cant loose you kid." Said your dad who it was clear was very nervous on letting you leave.

"I'll be fine dad, I have been taught from the best of the best." You said and then you saw his eyes water.

"No, no dad don't cry because then I will. We have to be strong i promise I'll be fine. We agreed on 2 months if I'm gone more than that or if you don't hear from me when those months come to an end you come looking for me." You said holding back the tears.

"I know kid, I know it's just ya growin to fast." He said looking at you.

"Fuck it come ere kid." He said and pulled you in for a tight hug. You hugged him back hard, soaking up his affection, which definitely doesn't come everyday. You pulled away and looked up at him.

"I'll be fine dad ok, I'll be back." You said and backed up, everybody stood around and you waved before looking at Michonne and pointed at her belly.

"I better be godmother when I come back." You said smiling

"Yes ma'am." She said with a smile on her face. You got in the car and turned it on, you had some doubts on leaving but knew this has to happen. Your dad came to the window and leaned on it and you took in a breathe.

"Please don't loose yourself, if you have to stop stop. Don't leave the people who care about you." You told your dad and he sighed knowing exactly what you meant by that. He was looking for Rick so much it was taking him away from you. Daryl stepped back and you smiled at everybody and waved.

"I'll be back in 2 months I promise." You announced and they all smiled, you put the car in drive and drove off watching the gates close behind you.

"Y/n can you hear me." Your dad said over the walkie and you grabbed it.

"Yeah dad I can hear you."

-

You got to Tennessee right before the car stopped. You sighed and looked around to see if there was anything a car or a store. You grabbed the walkie and took in a breathe, please work, you thought.

"Dad can you hear me?" You asked and heard static then his voice.

"Ya I can, ya alright?" He asked

"Ya I'm fine, I'm in Tennessee but I think that soon probably a couple more miles you won't be able to hear me so im starting with the notes." You said and held back tears.

"Alright I love ya." You heard him sniffile before the walkie went out.

"I love you to dad." You said and out the walkie away and grabbed the pack. You opened the pack and grabbed the note book and pen. You wrote, STILL ALIVE- F/I, and looked for a place to put it. After an hour you found a gas station and put the note on the counter under a rock.

"Dad not sure if you can hear me but, if you do come for me I'm leaving notes in stores." You put the walkie back and grabbed your knife and stabbed a walker that came for you.

-

Almost 13 days (that's what google said). 13 days and nights of running and hiding from herds. Avoiding people, some you had to kill. Your feet hurt even after taking a days break in Arkansas but you finally have reached Texas. Not knowing where Morgan is you decided to use the walkie every few miles in. You looked at the map and Texas was huge, it could take a few weeks to find him, if he is even alive. But you needed a break so you needed to find somewhere safe. You found a house that looked safe enough so you cleared it, only 3 walkers where in it.

You set up a fire and out a can of beans over the fire. You grabbed the map and decided where you should head to next.

(A/n- I read that season 5 of fear is filmed in New Braunfels, Texas and its near Austin soon)

Austin, Texas, in school in Alexandria the teacher said Austin is pretty popular. Morgan could be there so that's where you would start. You took a 2 days rest and even found a lake to bathe in, after getting supplies you made your way to Austin. You left a note at the WELCOME TO TEXAS sign and left another at store the another. There was a hotel a little father form the house and out another there.

After a day or so you were closer to Austin and decided it's time to try with the Walkie.

"Morgan, it's Y/n I'm in Texas, I don't know if your alive but I'm here." You said and put the walkie away after no answer. You walked for what seemed hours when you saw the Austin sight and grabbed the walkie.

"Morgan I'm in Austin." You said into the walkie and decided to start trying different channels as you repeated the question though each. You tried the last channel and was about to put it away when you heard voices and your heart sped up.

"Morgan?" You asked and kept moving the circle to hear it more clearly.

"John, June you there." Someone said, it was a deep voice and noticed it was Morgan's voice.

"Morgan, Morgan, it Y/n Dixon from Alexandria, please hear me." You said pleading to yourself.

"Y/n wha-." He started. "What are you doing out here so far, where are you?" He asked.

"Umm I'm by the Welcome to Austin sign. Where are you maybe I can find you." You said and out down to the ground pulling the map out."

"I have two people close to you y/n, don't be alarmed their names are John and June." He said and you sighed.

"Ok." You said wearily.

"John, June did you hear that." Asked Morgan and a female bodice came through.

"We hear you Morgan, on our way Y/n." A man said.

"Hang tight y/n." Said Morgan and you sat back. You grabbed a paper and pen and wrote. FOUND MORGAN. You sat there for a while when a car approached and stopped next to you, you raised you knife reading to attack of nesassary. The window went down and the man and woman out there hands up.

"Hold on hold on young lady I'm John and this is June, we come to get you." John said and you hesitated.

"We won't hurt you i promise." June said. You nodded and grabbed your stuff and opened the car. You sat down and watched John and June's every move.

"So where did you come from?" Asked John and you sighed.

"Long story." You breathed out a laugh and they smiled.

"Guess we will know about it after you meet Al." Said June and you cocked your head to the side.

"Who's Al?" You asked wearily.

"She was journalist before and she interviews everybody on their stories." Said John and you nodded.

-

"Morgan, who is y/n?" Asked Alicia as she and Luciana approached him.

"She's comes from Virginia and Alexandria like me, she's around your age Alicia." Said Morgan smiling and Alicia rolled her eyes.

-

The car came to a stop out some gates and they opened. The car pulled in and people crowded around. John and June got out and your door opened revealing Morgan. You got out of the car and hugged him before pulling away to look over all the people. It was a whole bunch of little kids then a whole bunch of adults.

You looked around and your eyes fell on a very pretty girl with brown hair and hazel eyes. Her eyes where on you but they seemed defensive like yours at the moment. You felt uncomfortable and Morgan said to clear a path so you could sit down.

-

"I have been walking for almost 20 days, Car broke down when I reached Tennessee." You said to Al and she smiled. Everybody else was sitting around eating dinner as they heard your story how you arrived here.

"You have any family, back in Virginia?" She asked and you nodded.

"I have my dad, and more people who became my family, we have lost some but they will never be replaced." You said.

"Lover?" She asked and you shook your head no.

"Nope pretty much a virgin." You said and they all laughed.

Alicia started at you slowly relaxing that you were not a threat, all of them did.

"Why did you come here?" Asked Al and you sighed.

"I was 12 when the world started, I'm like 18 now. I'm supposed to be enrolling into college now, planning out my life going to go see what's out there. The apocalypse may have happened but I still want that chance. And Morgan I need to tell you something, privately." You said and he looked at you concerned. He gave Al a look and she shut the camera off then got the film. He stood up and you followed, he stopped just a few feet from everybody and waited for you to speak.

"Ricks gone." You said. "Gone not dead, just gone it's like he disappeared." You said looking down, thinking about that day.

"Wha- what how, what happened." He asked.

"Bridge explosion, he saved everybody." You said and Morgan nodded then you heard someone clear their throat.

"I'm sorry Morgan." Said June, you looked at him confused.

"I told them about Virginia, they how me and Rick go back." He said and you nodded.

"They haven't the body?" He asked and you shook your head.

"No, my dad, he has been looking out there by the bridge everyday, Michonne is pregnant with Ricks kid and she's about to give birth so she can't look anymore. And I was practically taking care of Judith so I couldn't either. And others have their own thing." You said and Morgan nodded again before walking off. You sighed and and smiled at the group.

"Anything else you guys want to know about me?" You asked and Al came forward.

"I want to know about the king and the tiger." Said Al and you nodded walking back to the fire.

-

You told everybody what you needed to know. Your guard was down long ago, you kept sneaking glances at the girl who's name is Alicia and she looked back at you as well. You got ready for bed when you were approached by Alicia.

"We never had a formal introduction, I'm Alicia Clark." She said holding her hand out and you shook it.

"Y/n Dixon."

You talked the night until you fell asleep from exhaustion. You learned about her family, all the things she has been through and you shared hers. She told you about her boyfriends and you felt a pang of jealousy, 'Gosh y/n you don't even know this girl,' you told your self. You fell asleep after an hour and Alicia put a blanket over you and whispered goodnight and left. You woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and got up. You looked in the mirror and braided your hair into two. You went outside and the people started building some type of plane. You approached Alicia as she was talking through a microphone looking at parts. She saw you approach and she smiled, you then looked up and saw a plane.

"Hey what's with the plane, didn't see that last night?" You asked Lucianna as you approached her, she smiled and sighed.

"A few weeks ago we were on a plane and we crashed landed a few miles from here, we actually came from here at first so we came back. Those kids they left biters out there tied up to keep us away, because it's not safe. We gained their trust and we are building this plane so we can get out of this place." She said sun you nodded you looked over the people and your eyes fell on him.

"Dwight?" You said sternly and he looked at you eyes widening.

"Mini Dixon, what are you doing out here?" He asked and you glared at him grabbing your knife when you felt a hang go to it, you saw Morgan shaking his head to stand down.

"What are you doing here, I thought you were dead?" You asked him.

"I'm lookin for Sherry, my wife, not trying to cause any trouble." He said and raised his good arm as a surrender. You nodded and stood down every body who watched went back to what they were doing. Alicia came in-front of you with a concerned look.

"So what's your story with him?" She asked

"He served the man who killed two people of my family and kept my father in a cage keeping him like an animal." You said looking at her with hard eyes.

You lended you knowledge on fixing things with the plane. It's clear they were grateful on your help, you fixed the engine to the best of your ability.

"Y/n want to come with me to a ware house, we need more parts." Said Alicia and you nodded. You made your way down and smiled at her.

-

Small Alicia POV

Gosh she is so beautiful. I met her yesterday and I feel like I have known her since forever. Call me crazy but I'm starting to get feelings for her already.

-

Regular POV

The butterflies in your stomach were almost painful when you were near Alicia. She was gorgeous, you felt like you could tell her everything and you almost have from Atlanta to now. You grabbed your backpack, emptying it out of anything that was worth leaving just encase. You took your knives and gun and left to find Alicia. She was waiting outside a car and got in when she saw you. You sat in the drivers seat and looked to see if anybody else was going, luckily no one was there.

"Anybody else going?" You asked and she shook her head.

"Do you have a problem with it, because I can get someone to come with us may-." She started but you shook your head no.

"I have no problem at all." You said and winked making her cheeks flush red. She drove to the warehouse and she told you the parts to look out for as well as food. You took out two walkers with your knives and looked back to see Alicia looking at you with awe.

"Never taken out biters with knives really." She said chuckling. You looked down and saw a metal pole that was sharpened at the edges.

"Well I mean that pole is badass, where did you get it, might need to get myself one." You asked.

"A water park." She said smiling and you nodded.

"Alright tell you what I teach you how to fight with knifes and we stay a little longer to find a pole similar to yours. Deal?" you asked holding your hand out. She thought for a second and took your hand and shook it.

"Ok come here stand in-front of me." You said as two walkers approached you both. She stood infront of you and you handed her your knives, you stood close to her.

"Now, you going to want to dodge them, go in between them. Remember you have to use strength to kill them just cant push it in. I'll be here just encase." You said. The walkers go closer and Alicia tightened her grip on the knives.

"Go you said." And she ducked as they swung at her, you backed up out of reach then one by one they were both put out.

"That was great, remember you gotta faster and if you have someone behind you, let's say as kid you have to push them back, maybe use you leg or arm. Even an adult if they don't notice you have to act quick." You said and she nodded cleaning the knives.

"Thanks I'll definitely use that, after I find knives." She said.

"If you can get a hunting knife there much stronger and lighter." You said and she nodded. You found a majority of the parts needed and headed back to the car.

"I found this." She said and handed you a metal pole with holes in it. You grabbed it and smiled at you, you got one of your knives and it's holster and handed it to her.

"Thank you Alicia, as a true thanks here's one of my knives, work with one just for now you will go better I just know of it." You said and she smiled brightly.

"Thank you, now let's get back and we can sharpen the edge." She said and started the car.

You kissed her cheek and pulled back getting a red face. You looked at her though the corner of your eye and saw her face was red.

-

When you arrived back to the truck stop, she helped sharpen the metal pole. You and her had a flirty thing going on for the rest of the month until you started feeling sexual tension start to arise. The stares would last long as well as lingering touches, she thought you how to use the pole and you taught her knives. Everybody shared their knowledge with you and you did with them.

The plane was just about finished when you realized if they finish the plane you may loose them, loose her.

"So, where do you guys plan on going after getting the rest of your group?" You asked Alicia as she ate dinner, sitting on the ground.

"Not sure, definitely leave this area." She said and you nodded seeing how bad the area is, you sat down next to her and she offered some of her dinner but you waved it off.

"Maybe fly to Virginia." She said lowly and you looked at her like she was crazy.

"I'm just playing can't risk another crash, especially where the girl I likes home is." She said and looked at you. Your face went red and the butterflies in your stomach, she grabbed your chin and pulled your face closer to hers.

"Y/n Dixon I like you a lot, it's ok if you don't but-." She said but you silenced her with a kiss. She pulled you in harder making you moan, she set her dinner down and you pushed her on the ground, straddling her. You looked up and saw there were people still around so you pulled away.

"Want to take me to your tent?" You asked and she nodded, you got off her and held your hand out which she gladly took. She led you to her tent opening it and pulled you inside. You slid your shirt off and she did the same.

She looked at yours left arm and stomach and noticed a beautiful tattoos.

(This but all around the forearm)

(Something like that)

"Didn't know you had tattoos." She said and scratched her head.

"Oh yeah... do they bother you?" You asked.

"No no they are actually really hot." She said making you blush. You walked over to her and pushed her onto the makeshift bed.

"Wait crap I've never had sex with-." She started and you kissed her.

"It's ok, I'll teach you." You said and she looked at you confused.

"After Carl died, his girlfriend, Enid, and me got close and we ended up in bed together. It was just one night didn't mean anything." You said and stroked her hair.

"Didn't say that in the interview." She said and leaned back letting you crawl on top of her.

"Some things are just not to be meant to be said." You said and winked at her. You went down and captured her lips, she raised her hands and caressed your sides. You laid down on her putting your weight on her body making her moan.

"Just relax let me do the work." You said and trailed down her stomach.

a/n- once ftwd season 6 comes to hulu I’ll be able to continue my part 2

#alicia clark x reader #Alicia clark x dixon reader #x female reader #fear the walking dead #Daryl dixon x daughter reader #the walking dead #alycia debnam carey #alicia clark

[homerforsure]

Whumptober No. 6 Bruises / Touch Starved / Hunger Whumptober No. 30 major character death / left for dead / ghosts

Me: I can’t believe I have to post this absolutely incomprehensible piece of writing. 

Me: You don’t... have to?

Me: No, I’m gonna. 

Buck has an exceptional number of pillows on his bed. There are six, before he knocks a few to the floor every night, and he burrows into them like a nest, curling up with one against his chest, two pressed against his back, one between his legs. His sheets are a ridiculously priced, cool, crisp cotton that welcomes him in, surrounding him. The blankets he uses aren’t weighted, but they’re heavy and thick and he keeps his air conditioning turned up so he doesn’t have to give up the feeling of nestling into them in the heat of summer. Along with the white noise machine on his night stand, all of it is chosen to trick him into sleep. To keep back the feeling that night time in his own apartment is the loneliest part of Buck’s day. 

It wasn’t perfect, pre-covid. It’s been a long time since Buck had someone share his space, share his bed, someone he could reach out and touch whenever he wanted. But his life outside of home was full. He didn’t lack for closeness; in some ways he had more than he’d ever dreamed. So while he had lonely moments, they weren’t a constant ache in his chest. 

These months though. These months hurt. Facetime isn’t a substitute for curling up on Maddie’s couch with whatever silly-labeled wine she’d liked best that week. It’s definitely not a substitute for Eddie’s couch and losing to Christopher over and over again at Mario Kart. The last time they talked, Eddie had reached over and ruffled Christopher’s hair and Buck felt it. First as a tingle up the back of his scalp and then as a bruise to his heart. Eddie’s touches, so constant and so casual, became essential somewhere along the way and Buck feels himself reaching out for them even when he knows it’s not allowed.

“Six feet, gentlemen,” Bobby says gently when their orbits swing toward each other and Eddie makes a dramatic show of raising his hands and taking a giant step backward. Bobby just shakes his head and reminds them it’s the price they all agreed to pay for not wearing masks in the firehouse. 

Buck starts dreading the end of a call when taking off his heavy turnout coat leaves him feeling cold and exposed. He folds into himself, claiming a chair, putting in earbuds and crossing his arms tight over his chest, pulling his knees up even though he knows better than to put his shoes on the furniture.

It’s a similar position to the one he lies in at night, clinging to the pillows, trying to draw comfort out of the smooth fabric. In those moments, his loneliness is so loud it might as well be a beacon sent out into the universe, a burning shout of need. 

And that shout is heard. 

***

“Have you guys heard of exploding head syndrome?” Buck asks one morning when the calls are slow and the crew is all lingering in a lazy way rather than rushing off to take care of their other duties. 

“What, the band?” Chimney asks.

“I think it was an album,” Bobby says.

“No,” Buck sighs. “It’s a sleep thing. It’s this loud noise that you hear when you’re falling asleep like a massively loud explosion. Only it’s just happening in your head.”

“Is your brain actually exploding? Like an aneurism?”

“No. It’s just the noise.” 

Just the loudest noise Buck had ever heard. It woke him up with a feeling of abject terror. It was an explosion that didn’t echo. It just rang, clear and true through his eardrums like the end of the world. Even as he struggled out of his sheets, searching for the source so he could run from it, part of him knew it wasn’t a sound that left any physical evidence. What could it even be? A sound like that? An old fashioned safe dropping from two stories up? A car crash without the crunch? Just a high speed collision of two immovable objects, all of the equal and opposite reaction of their momentum forced to escape as sound. 

Once his heart rate had slowed, he googled. He wasn’t initially sure what to google. “Ridiculously loud noise woke me up” seemed at once too vague and too specific but sure enough. Exploding Head Syndrome. It was what happened. Obviously. But Buck remained too full of adrenaline to sleep. As he sat up in bed, he couldn’t shake the urge to look around. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain. He didn’t feel alone. 

“I’m just glad it’s happening in your head instead of mine,” Chim laughs. “Maybe try putting some earmuffs on before you go to sleep tonight.” ***

The sound doesn’t reappear. Buck is relieved, but sleeping doesn’t get any easier. He tries to soothe himself with obscenely long hot baths, by ordering a hoodie that’s more fluff than fabric, by running a foam roller across his muscles, trying to pry them into relaxation. It’s so much work and it does so little. Buck’s entire body is screaming out at all times for a hug or a massage or even just a really fucking good haircut. It takes longer and longer to fall asleep and the little sleep he does get isn’t restful. It’s like whatever meager comfort he manages to give himself during the day is leached away in the night. 

He doesn’t even notice the bruises at first. It’s an easy enough thing to miss. Their job is heavy physical labor and Buck barrels through a scene like a one man stampede. Bruises are as common as the smell of smoke in his hair. The ones Eddie points out on his arm though are different. 

Buck’s carrying a kitten at the time. The fire they’ve been fighting is beaten back to smolders. Buck shucked off his coat, wet and dripping from the hose and too cold for the shaking animal, and grabbed a blanket from the ambulance to wrap her up and cradle her against his chest. He’s rubbing his face against her damp fur, feeling the softness like a concentrated shot of endorphins when Eddie asks, “What the hell happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?” Buck asks and Eddie’s hands are pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up to his shoulders while Buck’s trying to hold onto the cat.

“You don’t feel that?”

“Feel what?” He’s maybe a little ruder than he means to be but the sleep deprivation makes him cranky and the touch deprivation means that Eddie’s gently probing fingers feel like a dream on his skin. The care in the brush of his hands makes Buck’s knees weak. 

“Your arms are bruised to hell,” Eddie says. “Are you- Did someone grab you or something?”

“I swear to god, Eddie. I don’t feel anything.” Except grumpy and exhausted and longing. 

“Jesus, it goes all the way up your shoulders. It looks like-” He stops, pulling Buck’s collar aside and tracing a small spot that Buck can’t see even if he turns his head. “They look like fingerprints, Buck. Are you seeing someone?” 

“What!”

“These are handprints. And they’re dark. Do you really not-”

Buck wrenches himself from Eddie’s grasp so he can turn around and look at him because if Eddie’s really accusing him of putting everyone at risk by trying to date someone right now… But Eddie’s face is nothing but concerned. Which makes Buck scared. 

“Is it really that bad?” he asks, clutching the cat to his chest. 

Eddie rubs a hand up Buck’s back (it feels so good, hot like Buck’s t-shirt isn’t even between them and is it just because it’s been so long or just because it’s Eddie?) without looking around to see if Bobby’s watching and that’s really all the confirmation Buck needs. It’s bad. 

***

After that, Buck starts to feel them. He wakes up and he can’t breathe. He wakes up and he can’t move. He wakes up on the floor. He spends every moment that he’s asleep fighting to wake up. Buck can only remember fragments and pieces of the torment but he knows that it feels like drowning. Like being held down. Like being grabbed and pulled and smothered. He thinks he remembers long dark hair. 

Google is useless. Sleep apnea. Sleep paralysis. Sleep terrors. Even sleepwalking. None of them can account for the worst of it. For the physical signs of whatever is happening to him while he sleeps.

Bruises bloom blue on the pale skin of his hips. Purple on his ribs. Green on the back of his neck. The ones that Eddie saw first on his arm fade to yellow.  A long scratch runs down the side of his face. Dark circles under his eyes grow darker every day. 

“What’s happening to me?” he asks his reflection.

All he wants is to be able to ask that question with someone’s arms around him. He wants anyone to hold him tight and shush his fears and tell him that it’ll be okay. 

It’s easier than he thought to hide it. Buck just chooses his shower times strategically and opts for a long sleeve uniform, complaining that he ruined his short sleeves ones by grabbing bleach instead of detergent while he was half asleep. 

He’s always half asleep these days.

At least in the bunk rooms, he gets some semblance of rest. Whatever presence he feels in his own bedroom doesn’t cross this threshold and Buck sleeps deeply, almost missing the scream of the alarm. 

“It’s getting worse isn’t it?” Eddie asks, cornering Buck in the locker room. Buck can’t help but nod and Eddie steps closer as if to touch him. 

Buck flinches away and Eddie pulls up short as though hitting an invisible wall. 

He breathes Buck’s name on a pained exhale and says, “You have to get some help. Whatever it is…”

“I don’t know what it is!’ Buck answers. “It’s living in my house and it- it- God. Maybe I need an exorcism.”

“Maybe you should come home with me,” Eddie suggests and Buck recoils again. 

The firehouse seems safe but there’s no guarantee that Buck won’t be followed anywhere else. He’s desperate to be safe--desperate for Eddie to make him safe--but not at the expense of anyone else. Not when he doesn’t know what he’s facing. 

“Okay,” Eddie says. “But call me in the morning.” 

***

The burned girl screams louder when she sees Buck than she did while they were putting out the inferno of her car. 

“Stay away from me!” She shrieks. “Stay awaystayawaystayaway.”

“Miss, we’re going to need you to calm down,” Hen says to her. “Buck, you wanna move aside? Like preferably somewhere she can’t see you?”

Buck does because the patient’s well-being is more important than anything, but his skin feels like ice. He wants to demand to know what else she sees when she looks at him. Wants to know how she knows. For half a second, he imagines following her to the hospital and waiting for her outside the glass doors.  

They aren’t far from her house (52% of accidents happen within five miles of home) and the girl’s father arrives on the scene before they finish prepping her to be transported. And he sees Buck. 

He freezes when he does, but at least he doesn’t scream. He ignores Buck completely, instead going to the ambulance where his daughter is still crying and trying to soothe her. Hen offers to let him ride in the ambulance, but he says that he’ll take his car. 

“You’re in a lot of trouble,” he says, returning to Buck as the ambulance pulls away. “What you summoned… That’s not a normal ghost.”

“I didn’t summon anything! It just happened.” Buck’s voice is high-pitched and he just barely stops himself from grabbing onto the man’s arm, but the man doesn’t seem afraid of Buck the way his daughter was. “What is it? How do I make it go away?”

The man shrugs, “She came in through an open door. Which door depends on the person. But she’ll do everything in her power to keep it pried open. All you can do is try to close it again.”

It is… the least helpful advice Buck’s ever been given in his entire life. But the man’s daughter is on her way to the hospital and he needs to follow her. He vanishes. 

***

They’re about to have four days off. Buck’s bracing himself to meet the woman in his dreams. To look around in that dreamspace for open doors and slam them shut again. He can do it. He has to. 

***

The next night Buck wakes up and he can’t move. He’s paralyzed on the bed. He’s paralyzed on the bed and someone’s standing at the top of his stairs. 

She’s not… right. Buck can’t quite see in the dark and he can’t lift his head but the woman on his stairs isn’t solid in the way a human should be. The outline of her is strong, but it’s like she’s a shell wrapped around a cavernous emptiness. She’s across the room but she’s already pulling at him. 

Buck tries to thrash but his arms are pinned as if her hands are already on his wrists. He needs to reach the lamp. If he can just turn on the light.

“Get away from me,” he pleads and the part of her face where lips should be turns up, revealing pointed teeth that stand in front of a void.

“You called me,” she says. The words don’t come from her mouth and Buck doesn’t hear them with his ears. It’s wrong wrong wrong. He throws himself hard to the left and he rolls, flying further than he expected to, suddenly free, and crashes hard into the table, knocking the lamp to the floor. It shatters, bulb and all and pain scrapes across Buck’s shoulders.

“Poor boy,” the ghost mocks. “Poor lonely boy. Just wants someone to touch him. Just wants someone to stay with him. I heard you.”

“No,” Buck says and he tries to scramble, but his feet can’t find purchase on the floor. “I didn’t want you.”

He doesn’t deny the call. Can’t deny it when his heart is reaching out in the same pleading, desperate way now. Please. Anyone.

In the time it takes to blink she’s in front of him. She’s so close. She shouldn’t be able to get that close without standing on him but she’s there. Her voice whispers in his mind, “You should choose your words more carefully.”

And then her hands are around his throat.

The pressure is insistent and her motive is unmistakable. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to squeeze the life out of him. He’s going to die here and Eddie’s going to find his body because Eddie’s going to come rushing over as soon as Buck doesn’t call him in the morning and what if this thing is still here waiting for him. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Buck’s mind yells for him like his lungs did when Eddie was buried except now it’s Buck who’s too far away, who’s trapped somewhere deep and dark with no hope of escape. 

He tries to breathe and his breath whistles. It’s like the first time someone handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and he tried to drink through the plastic stir stick. Black stars twinkle in the room and tears build in his eyes. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

There’s a shift as she adjusts her grip and it’s enough for the stars to clear. Buck throws himself forward, shaking his head like he isn’t a ragdoll trapped in the jaws of a rottweiler, like he has a hope of breaking free and then he does. The ghost is thrown off balance and Buck jumps, scrambling back over his bed for the stairs. He can’t even think about defeating her, finding out the secrets of where she came from, closing whatever fucking door he left open. All Buck wants to do is live. 

A force behind him swells like a wave to lift Buck off his feet and slams him into the bathroom door. He expects to slide off of it and onto the floor, but he’s held in place hard, his head turned and his cheek pressed to the wood, toes just brushing the ground. 

“You begged me to come,” the ghost hisses. “I’m here for you, lonely boy. Don’t fight so hard.”

A hand skims up his back, nearly gentle, but leaving a numbness in its path and Buck shudders in disgust. He jerks against the door, but his arms are wrenched behind him and he screams. He realizes it’s the first time he has.

“I didn’t call you! I don’t want you here! Get out.”

“I came because you needed me.” A long finger trails down his cheek and Buck whimpers. She’s taller than him now. Was she always? “I could feel you from so far away. An aching ball of need. I’m here for you now.” 

“I don’t need you,” Buck growls and the room flashes like lightning. He hopes to fall, almost expects to fall, where he can scramble again but instead, Buck is hurled away from the door completely. He has time to see that he’s above the stairs, throw his hands out uselessly and then he’s frozen. 

Buck hovers there in the air above the stairs, dangling in the grip of the ghost, like a cat grabbed by his scruff. Kicking wildly, he grabs for the invisible hand that’s holding him, yelling “No, no, no, no.”

“Need me now?” the ghost asks. 

Smothering the terrified part of him that nearly answers yes, Buck forces himself to stop twisting and just hang there. He doesn’t want to fall. He doesn’t want to die. But what he needs isn’t going to come from the ghost. 

“No,” he answers. 

And he can’t explain how he knows what her face looks like when it’s screwed up in fury, but he does. It’s vicious and vindictive and Buck’s not surprised at all when he’s flicked away from her and down the flight of stairs. 

He seems to hit each one as he falls, something that should be impossible with the speed that he’s traveling and the force with which he bounces off of them, but the ghost is obviously responsible. Air leaves his lungs as his ribs crack against the stairs. His elbows and knees scrape. His head bangs the rail. Buck’s long, long legs seem to tangle as he falls, cartwheeling him down and he lands in a heap at the bottom. 

As he tries to figure out if he can still move, the door flies open. 

Warmth rushes in. Buck hadn’t even realized how cold it had gotten since he first woke up, but the room seems to thaw around him. It’s like sunlight. 

It’s Eddie. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Evan. Buck. I’ve got you, Buck. I’ve got you.” 

Tenderly, he scoops Buck off the floor, unsnarling the mess of his limbs and feeling all over for the damage he can’t see. “I’ve got you. Open your eyes. Come on.” 

The ghost stands at the top of the stairs and then she’s at the bottom. Buck clambers backward again, digging his heels into the floor to push himself upright in front of Eddie, to try and hide him from view. Eddie doesn’t seem to see the ghost. All of his attention is still on Buck, stroking his hair, promising over and over that he’s there, that he has Buck. 

All of the ghost’s attention is on Buck too. “You need me,” she says. “You called for me.” She sounds different now. Bitter. Like Buck wasted her precious time. 

“I don’t need you,” he says and he reaches behind him to grab Eddie’s hand. “I already have everything I need.” 

Lights flicker and that impossibly loud sound bangs in Buck’s ears again. He gets one last look at the ghost’s vicious, violent visage and then she’s gone. 

And then Buck wakes up.

#whumptober2021 #No.6 #touch starved #no.30 #ghosts #fic #911 #strangulation #nightmares #beating #ghost fight #look idek #911fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #i can't stress enough that i have no idea what's happening here #does this ghost represent something? #she definitely should! #and yet! #she is but a misguided creature of the underworld! #there are 24 more prompt days left? #what if I'm not allowed to write more than 1000 words for any of them? #because whatever i'm doing now is unsustainable

[peterpparkerwrites]

revelations - part nineteen

a/n: currently on hiatus - look at my pinned post for more info! this fic has a lot of parts so I’ll have it scheduled to post twice a day - once at 11:00 AM PST and once at 5:00 PM PST. since I will be gone and can’t update links, if you want to find previous parts, just scroll down my page :) warnings: mentions of ptsd, language, mentions of character deaths pairing: peter parker x reader word count: 3.3k

masterlist ~ requests are closed ~ part twenty

taglist: @lilbeatlebear @somefuckshit1 @hufflepuffseeker

~

"Y/N?" Peter's voice made you jolt upright, his concerned brown eyes right in front of you. "What the hell was that?"

For a minute you had to register that you were in your bed, and he was right next to you. With shaking fingers you reached a hand out and held his face, shutting your eyes. He let you, concern still swimming in his eyes as you opened yours to look back at him, relaxing.

"Nothing, that was nothing. I promise."

"That-that was not nothing," Peter's took your wrist, lowering your hand from his face. "You were screaming, sweetheart."

"What?" Your voice did feel hoarse, but you figured it was from sleep, "I-What?"

"I-I thought we were being robbed or something," he let out a weak laugh, but it sounded forced. "Are you alright? That was..."

You swallowed, glancing at the alarm clock on your bedside table and seeing the time. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up this early."

"Don't apologize," he gently moved you to lean against him, laying you both back down on the pillows. "Talk to me."

"Titan again," you shut your eyes, not wanting to elaborate. You still haven't told him the truth about what kind of state you were in right after he died. He didn't know that you had been basically starving yourself, not speaking, not doing anything until you came home and realized May was still around.

If May hadn't been spared in the snap, you had no idea what would've happened to you.

Peter held you tighter, taking one of your hands and bringing it up to his chest, where his heart was. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, and it made you relax a little more. "That'll never happen again."

"I know," you relaxed a little more, though you could feel the tenseness in your shoulders and the way your heart was still beating a little faster than normal.

"Try to go back to sleep," he said softly, and you met his eyes again. He was still concerned. You knew this was scaring him - you had told him when he first came back that it would go away, and you genuinely thought it would. With him back, what did you have to fear?

But memories of Titan still plagued you, even months and months after the return, and years after he had died. For the first time ever, you had understood why he had initially rejected you all those years ago. You understood his fear of losing his soulmate, and you were glad he never had to experience it.

"Okay," you agreed, letting him move back against you like he had several hours ago when you first went to sleep. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before relaxing, and you heard his breathing slow down almost immediately. He never had problems going back to sleep.

But you stayed awake for a long time, knowing you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. You stared at the ceiling after Peter fell back asleep, his arm still wrapped around you, and you tried to use that as a reminder.

He was here. He was safe. He was alive.

But he was going to be leaving for nearly three weeks. You squeezed your eyes shut, reminding yourself that that was a good thing. He needed a break from everything, he deserved to be able to have fun with friends and explore parts of the world he hadn't seen before.

Honestly, he probably needed a break from you, too.

You almost winced as soon as you thought that, knowing he would be mad if you actually thought that to be true. But you knew you were worrying him, especially the last few days with the nightmares and the lack of sleep. And now apparently screaming yourself awake.

"You're still awake, aren't you?" Peter suddenly mumbled against your collarbone, and you did wince this time.

"Sorry," you whispered, but instead of responding he sat up, adjusting you both so that you were laying against his chest this time.

"I'll stay up with you," he promised, and you wanted to cry at how sweet he was. You had to be the luckiest person on the planet.

"I love you," you smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I love you, too," he brought your knuckles up to his lips, kissing right where your promise ring rested. "Is it getting worse because I'm about to be leaving?"

God, why did he have to know everything?

"No," you said too quickly, and he gave you a doubtful look, "School has just been horrible lately, I don't know why I chose to take summer classes."

"You shouldn't lie to your boyfriend, you know," he squeezed your side and you jumped, glaring at him, "I still have time to cancel. We can just spend that time together instead, I could always go to Europe some other time."

"No," you sat up, "No, you're going. You need a break, Peter. Don't worry about me. I...I had to be without you for a long time, three weeks is nothing."

His expression softened, "You'll tell me if you need me, right? I can be back in a heartbeat."

"I know," you cupped his face in your hands, "But I won't. I'll spend some time with May, my parents, at the compound. I haven't visited Pepper and Morgan in a while, either. I'll have plenty to do."

"Okay," he didn't sound very convinced, but he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours anyway. You kissed him back easily, still surprised at yourself for getting lost in it every time.

"With the time difference, if you have a nightmare, I want you to call me," he moved his hands to cover yours, holding your palms to his cheeks, "I'll be awake, I can talk you through it. Promise?"

"I promise," you agreed, knowing that you would probably break that.

You weren't sure how, but you both eventually fell asleep. Peter was on the phone when you felt the sunlight from the windows warming up your face several hours later, but you didn't open your eyes as he talked.

"I'm getting really worried, May."

You tried not to tense when you heard that. It wasn't hard to guess what he was talking to her about.

"No, I-I don't know if she would want to do that," he sounded defeated, and you heard him sigh. You peeked an eye open, seeing him sitting in your chair on the other side of the room, one of his hands in his hair while the other held his phone to his ear.

"I gotta go, she'll be up soon. Love you."

You shut your eyes again, knowing better than to fake being asleep still. It wasn't hard to act like you just woke up, though.

But you didn't really need to do anything. You felt the bed dip as Peter got back in, and you couldn't help but smile as you felt him start to press his lips to various places on your face.

"I know you're awake," he mumbled, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Your heart is racing."

You started laughing, not able to hold it in anymore. "I'm pretty sure my alarm could have woken me up just fine, Pete."

"Hey," his hand found your side, making you jump a little, "I think I'm perfectly good at being an alarm clock."

"Uh huh."

He leaned back against the pillow next to you, letting his hand cup your cheek. You felt his thumb brush right underneath your eye, and you knew he was probably frowning at the bags underneath. You spoke up before he could say anything about that.

"We should probably get up, huh?" You sighed, finally opening your eyes fully. You met his soft smile as he let his fingers trail down your jaw.

"At least I don't have to worry about your mom bursting in anymore," he faked a shudder, and you laughed.

"You're lucky I don't still live in a shared apartment," you snorted, "If you had met my old roommate, it would've been a nightmare."

"Is it too early for patrol?" He moved to rest his head on your stomach to stare up at you, and you started playing with his hair.

"Yes. I demand at least breakfast first. Or lunch, I suppose."

"I can try to make you an omelet?"

"You will set my fire alarm off if you do that, Pete."

He gave you a dirty look before rolling up and out of bed, "Okay, fine. How about I go to that brunch place you like down the street and bring food back?"

"I would love you forever."

"Hey, you're already supposed to love me forever," he winked at you, gesturing to his back, "If that tattoo means anything to you, at least."

You chucked a pillow at his head and he caught it, laughing.

"Why don't you get breakfast and I'll meet you at the usual spot and we can eat there," you made yourself get up, wishing the bags under your eyes felt a little lighter. "Maybe an early patrol would be good after all, and food would motivate me to get there, at least."

"I bet I can beat you there," he already had his keys in hand, heading for the door, "You take ages to get ready anyway. Catch you later alligator!"

"Cheater!" You muttered after him as he left, barely dressed to go anywhere, but he was too competitive to change into normal clothes apparently. "And stealing my lines."

Ten minutes later and you were at your meeting spot, grinning when you realized he wasn't there. But you didn't have to wait very long.

You didn't jump as you felt two hands snake around your waist.

"Damn, I can never sneak up on you anymore," Peter muttered and pressed his face into the crook of your neck, making you laugh and twist out of his arms to turn around, meeting Spider-Man's mask.

"Maybe I'm developing spidey senses. Wait, what does May call it? The-"

"Don't say it," he groaned, leaning his forehead against yours. "Please don't start calling it that. It's horrible."

"Peter tingle," you grinned when his mask's eyes squinted to glare at you.

"You are lucky I love you," he sighed, grabbing the bags he must've set down when he tried to scare you. "There was a long line, that's the only reason you beat me."

"Sure."

He handed you a bag, lifting his other hand to take his mask off. "I will take this food back."

"Never," you snatched the bag, pulling your mask off to stick your tongue out at him. "Thank you, Pete."

"Anytime," he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before joining you in sitting down on the ledge, pulling his own food out of the other bag. "Why are we patrolling right now again?"

You shrugged, taking a bite of food. "Because we have no school right now and there might be, I don't know, a bank robbery?"

"I'm sick of bank robbers. Like, can't they do something better with their time?"

"What would you suggest?"

"I don't know, like...therapy?"

"What?" You nearly choked from laughing, and he shrugged.

"Hey, they clearly got some issues to sort out if they're bank robbers. Besides, therapy is a good way to get help! Therapy is good for a lot of things, actually. I would recommend it to anyone!"

You stopped chewing, his rant a little too specific for you to not catch what he was trying to say. "Like what sort of things, Peter?"

He shifted slightly, not quite meeting your eyes. "Like nightmares. And PTSD."

"I don't have PTSD," you said firmly, wanting the topic to be shut down before it even got started. "I'm fine. Nightmares are normal."

"Y/N," he took your hand, making you meet his eyes even if you didn't want to. "Screaming yourself awake isn't normal. Having nightmares this often about Titan isn't normal, either. I know how much you struggled when...I just want you to get help."

Your mouth twitched, "How much did May tell you?"

"She's told me what I wished you had told me," he brushed his thumb along the back of your hand, and you saw that he looked a little guilty. He knew there was a reason you didn't tell him everything, and you felt sick knowing that he knew the kind of state you were actually in. "Please don't be mad at her, I-I practically begged her to tell me. I want to know how to help you, so I needed to know how you were."

You couldn't be mad at him, and he knew that. You couldn't even really be mad at May, because you knew she wanted to help you, too. And it wasn't like you explicitly told her to keep anything from her own nephew, practically son.

"Don't...don't freak out when I say this," you said carefully, "I had gotten better. A lot better. I did see a therapist when it first happened. But...I think when you back...it kind of brought back those memories and I started thinking of all the ways I could lose you again. I think that's why the nightmares are worse now than they were a year ago."

Peter took a breath, leaning back a little. You never wanted to tell him that, knowing he would immediately blame himself for your mental issues.

"It's not your fault," you said quickly, making him frown, "So don't even go there. I'm so happy you're back. This is more than I ever could have hoped for, and you're more than worth the stupid nightmares. It just...it opened new fears because now I know what it's like to lose you."

"This is why I think therapy is a good idea, Y/N," he looked back at you, "You never would have told me how it was when I was dusted. You probably wouldn't have told me this, either, if I hadn't brought it up. But you can't keep bottling up how you feel, trust me."

"I know," you felt him squeeze your hand, "I'll...think about it."

"That works for me," he brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. "Now that that's over, should we patrol?"

"Now I'm just going to be thinking about bank robbers going to therapy, so I don't know if I'll be able to focus."

"Let's go visit Morgan instead," Peter suggested, "I want to say bye before I leave. And she always cheers you up."

"She'll be excited to see you," you agreed, "But more excited to see me."

"Ha! You wish. She adores me."

"Well, I'm her godmother, so."

"Alright, you can't pull that card every time."

"Of course I can."

-

You didn't exactly expect to see Morgan in a Spider-Man costumed when you both arrived at Pepper's place. Something about seeing her bouncing around her room in it made you want to burst out laughing, though.

"Um...new costume?" You asked her mom, biting your lip as Pepper dragged a hand over her face.

Peter was already doubled over laughing, and you couldn't help but join in. She looked hilarious, her Spider-Man replica mask slightly slipping off her face and the sleeves way too long for her. She even had fake little webshooters.

"Yeah, she pretty much begged for it when we saw it in the store, I couldn't say no," Pepper winced as she jumped off the bed, finally seeing you guys.

"What is Spider-Man doing in Morgan's room?" Peter asked as he walked up to her, squinting.

"It's me!" She took the mask off, grinning, "Surprise!"

"What? You're Spider-Man? No way!" Peter picked her up, spinning her around while she laughed. As usual, the sight of them together made you melt.

"I'll be in the office if you guys need me," Pepper squeezed your shoulder and gave you both a smile before leaving the room.

"Look, I have webs!" Morgan lifted her arms proudly.

"They're even cooler than Spider-Man's," you complimented, making a face at Peter that Morgan couldn't catch. He stuck his tongue out at you.

"I wanted to come and see you before I went on a trip," Peter sat her on his lap, and she immediately turned to face him.

"Where?" She demanded, making you chuckle a little. She was a lot like her father already.

"Nowhere special, just with my class."

"How long?"

"It'll only be a little while."

Morgan pouted, and you understood her sadness. "I know. I'll miss him too."

"Can I come?"

"No way, little lady," Peter ruffled her hair, making her laugh, "You gotta stay here and protect New York! I'll leave Auntie Y/N here with you."

"Are you really gonna come back?"

Your eyes flicked over to him, feeling an ache in your chest as his expression softened. She didn't ask if Tony was coming back anymore, at least.

"'Course I will," he smiled at her, "I'll be back before you can even miss me. Now why don't you show us how your webshooters work?"

You let Peter entertain her as you watched, laughing at Morgan's quick quips and scolding with Peter apparently mishandled her webshooters. She was already so smart for her age, and it made your heart ache every time you thought about everything Tony couldn't be here to see.

Maybe Peter had a point. You remembered the first few months, and how you needed to talk to someone that wasn't May or Tony. You had a therapist who was great, and you felt a lot better even when you couldn't be fully honest. It wasn't like you could just go an tell her you were Shadow, and your boyfriend and soulmate was Spider-Man.

It was so differently now, too. Your best friends were back, but they were younger than you and almost ready to graduate high school - something you did ages ago. You didn't see them every day, and it felt like you were growing apart. Nat and Tony were both gone, and the constant reminders of them were everywhere. And now you could picture a hundred different ways that you might lose Peter again.

"I think you're right," you said to him on the way home, and he gave you a curious look. "About therapy. I think I'll look into it again."

His lips broke out into a wide smile, and the look on his face made your decision more permanent. If not for you, then you should at least do it for him. "That's great, Y/N."

It was only a few days later that you were standing with him outside of your apartment, trying to work up the courage to say goodbye to him for the next three weeks. He looked excited, and you weren't going to dampen his mood.

"You better have fun or I'll come there and kick your butt," you threatened, and Peter bit his lip to keep from laughing at you.

"You aren't very intimidating, sweetheart. But sure, I promise to have fun. I'd have more fun if you were there with me, though."

"One day, we'll take a vacation together," you promised, "But not to Europe in the middle of the summer with thousands of tourists, okay?"

"Fine," he slid his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly. You held him back just as tight. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too. Try not to get into too much trouble, Spidey."

"Eh, no promises."

#this is the last part I wrote #it will probably be a while before I finish this series :/ just warning you now lol #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker reader insert #spider-man x reader #spider-man fic #spiderman x reader #peterpparkerwrites masterlist #my writing

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.

> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.

  “ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

   ‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”

a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem. 

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”

     The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.

  “Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.

  “Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.

  “You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.

  “John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.

  “Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.

   You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.

  “Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.

  “Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”

  “Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”

  “It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.

  “Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.

  “Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.

  “You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.

  After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.

  “Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”

  “Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.

  “I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.

  “Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”

  You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

  “Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.

  The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

  You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.

  Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.

  You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.

  You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.

  Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.

  Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.

  Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.  

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

  He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.

  “C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”

  The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.

  “Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”

  “Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.

  The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.

  “We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.

  “Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.

  “I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.

  “I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.

  To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.

  On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.

  “Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.

  “You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.  

  “Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.

  “You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.

  “Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”

  “As in bi-curious?”

  “Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.

  When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.

    ||\\

  It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.

  She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV.  “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”

  “Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

  “Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.

  It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.

  The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.

  Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.

  “Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.

  “Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

  “C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

  “Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”

  You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.

  “Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.

  “Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.

  “Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.

  Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.

Okay, think.

  Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.

  “Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.

  He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.

  “He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.

  “None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”

  When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.

  “Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.

  “You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”

  Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

  “Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”

  He’s lying. You can tell.

  “Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.

  “Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”

  He’s angry.

  You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.

  “Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”

  He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.

  “Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”

  As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.

  Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.

   Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.

  The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.

  “Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

  “Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

  You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.    

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

  You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.

  “I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”

  “Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”

  He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.

  Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.

  “Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.

  “Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.

  “It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”

  He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.

  “Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

  “I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.

  “Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”

  “Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”

  “Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“

   She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

     You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.

  At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.

  “Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.

  “You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.

  “It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.

  “I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.

  “Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”

  “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”

  “Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”

  “I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.

  “Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.

  Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.

  As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.

  You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-

  “Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”

  “What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

  “Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.

  “Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

  “Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.

  “You’re bossy today.”

  You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.

  “Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.

  “I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.  

  All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”

  “Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.

  “I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.

  “Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

  “Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

  “Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”

  “I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.

  “I parked on a different spot,” he responded.

  “Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”

  “Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.

  “I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.

        ||\\

  You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.

  “I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.

  “I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

  “Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”

  “I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”

  “How can you even say that?” he barked.

  “Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.

  He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“

  “Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.

  “Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.

  “It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”

  “I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.

||\\

   A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it. 

   And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close. 

   Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together.  You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.

  “How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

   He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.

  “I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.

  “You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

  “That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”

  You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”

  “It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.

  “You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.

  “It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”

  “Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”

  He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

 “Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

  “I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

  “Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-

  Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.

  As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.

  Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

  She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.

  “Last time you said that…”

  “I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

  “Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.

  He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.

  “Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.

  “Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.

  “You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.

  “Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.

  “Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.

  “I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.

  Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

  “What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.

  I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.

||\\

     You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.

  But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.

  “Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.

  “Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.

  “I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.

  He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.

  “I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”

  “So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.

  “I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.

  “Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”

   He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.

  “Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant. 

  “Yes?”

  “Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly. 

  That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.

  “For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”

   By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.

  “That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.

  “What about you?”

  “Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”

  “But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”

  “That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.

  Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.  

  You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.

  He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.

   Well, shit.

  He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.

  You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.

  You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.

  “You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath.  You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.

  You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”

  “Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

  “What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.

  “We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

  “Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.

  You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.

  “Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”

  “Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”

  ||\\

  He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.

  He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.

  He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.

  So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.

 ||\\

    “What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”

  Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.

  You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.

  “We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

  “What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”

  “Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”

  “Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.

  “Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

  “Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.

  As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.

  “Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.

  “Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”

  He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“

  Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.

  “Yoongi, what-“

  “Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.

  No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.

  At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.

  “Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.

   Brother?

  “How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.

  “Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”

  “Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

  “People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.

  “I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.

  “Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”

  “I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.

  “Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”

  “Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

  “It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.

  Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“

  “Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”

  “Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.

  Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”

  “Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”

  Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.    

  There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.

  “How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.

  He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.

  “I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”

  “What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.

  “Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.

  This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

  “Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

  You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.  

  “Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.

   ||\\

                                                       “Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

     It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…

  No. He promised.

  You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.

  Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.

  Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.

  You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.

  “Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.

  “When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”

  “I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

  “Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.

  He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.

  “I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”

  “What, now? Y/N-“

  “I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly

  Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”

  He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.

  Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.

  You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.

  You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

  “Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”

  He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.

  “Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”

  Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

  As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.

  “Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.

  “No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.

  When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.

  Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.

 ||\\

    The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.

  During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.

  “Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

  The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.

  “Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”

  “Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.

  “It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”

  “You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”

  You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.

  “It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.

  Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.

  Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.

  Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.

  “Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.

  You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…

  “Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”

  You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.

  “So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.

  “Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.

  “I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.

  “Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.

  “I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.

  “Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.

  “Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

  Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.

  “H-How come?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”

  You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”

  “Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.

  “That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  “Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

  “I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.

  You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.

  “Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”

  Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”

  “If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”

  He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.

  “Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.

  “Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

  “Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”

  “Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.

  “Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.

  That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.

  Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

  “No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.

  “Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.

  “No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.

  He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.

  “You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.

  You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.

  “I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”

  You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.

  Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.

  Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

  During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.

  You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.

  “Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.

  “She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.

  As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.

  “Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”

  All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.

  “Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.

  “We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.

  “Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.

  “Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.

  “Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”

  “I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”

  “Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.

  “I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.

  “Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

  Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.

  You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.

  “Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.

  “Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”

  “Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”

  “Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”

  “Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”

  “Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”

  “What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

  His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.

  “Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.

  “Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

  He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.

  “Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.

  “That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”

  His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

  He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”

  “Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”

  He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.

  “Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

  “I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”

  A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.

  “Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.

  “Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”

  “My place.”

  Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

  “Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.

  The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.  

  Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.

  He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.

  “Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”

  He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

  “Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.

  You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.

  “Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”

  Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.

  “Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

  His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

  “When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.

  “A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.

  “Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.  

  “How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

  It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.

  “Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

  “I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”

  “We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

  “Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“

  “You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.

  “Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”

  “I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”

  “Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”

  “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”

  “If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”

  His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.

  “I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”

  “Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

  “Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

  He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

  “I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”

  He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”

  You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

  “Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”

  “Not even then.”

  “How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

  The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.

  “Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.

  Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.

  Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.

  Alright. Great.

  As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.

  Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.

  “It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”

  You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.

  “I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.

  “Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.

  “It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”

  Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated  guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.

  “Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”

  You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.

  “Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”

  You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.

  “It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.

  “This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“

  “Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.

  It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.

  Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.

  “How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.

  His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.

  “Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.

  As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.

  “Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”

  “Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?

  “Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.

  “Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”

  “B-But the protocol-“

  “Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”

   He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”

  “That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.

  “If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.

  “Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.

  Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.

  “I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.

  “W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

  Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.

  “Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.

  He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.

  “You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”

  “An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”

  “You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”

  Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”

  “My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

  “It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”

  “So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.

  “Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”

  “So you rebelled?”

  “No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

  “It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”

  “I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”

  “Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”

  “Because of the devil, right?”

  “Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.

   Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.

   When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.

  Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”

   You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.

  “I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”

  “But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”

  “Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”

  “I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.

  All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

  “Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”

  “No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”

  “Then why?”

  “Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”

  You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.

  “You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

      There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.

  “I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.

  “I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

  “Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”

  “I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”

  “Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Okay.”

  The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.

  Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?

  You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

  Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

  Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.  

  Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.

  “Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.

  “Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”

  “It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”

  By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.

  “I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”

  His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.

  “You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.

  “Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”

  That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

  “Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.

  “Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”

  Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

  “It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

  “Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”

  While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?

  When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.

  “Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”

  By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.

  “Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”

  “Can we go home, please?”

 The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.

  “Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.

  You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.

#bts fics #bts fanfic #BTS suga #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #bts angst #bts smut #fallen angel #fallen angel au #bts reader #bts you #bts fluff #bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #park jimin #jung hoseok #kim seokjin #two shot

[thetriggeredhappy]

recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

-

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

-

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”


Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my fanfiction #dad!spy #father-son bonding au #shut up me #que? #in this au he picks a fake name like she does. later i think demo starts calling him norman and some of the others do as well as goofs #also apologies for montgomery i couldnt quite get away with not naming random rich guy. just barely scraped by with guards one through four #everybody talks

[salamoonder]

Alright, so here’s the thing. At this point, I actually don’t care what Artagan has or hasn’t done and, morally, what that means. It’s irrelevant. Interesting, but irrelevant. What I want to talk about is what the Nein, excluding Jester, know about him, and what they do with this information, and how they cast judgment.

Here are things that the nein have actually seen: fleeting glimpses of a figure in a green cloak. one conversation with a giant archfey who has recruited jester’s help in planning a convention. further, fleeting glimpses. very very brief phrases.

Here are things that the nein have heard about him from jester: he’s pretty cool, you guys :) . he’s got a chaotic streak, like her. he helps her pull off pranks. he’s always shown up for her. he’s handsome. he taught her magic. he kept her company when her mom was busy. he is her first friend. he is her best friend. he is her oldest friend. she really loves him.

and yes, they know he misrepresented himself to jester for years. they know he sent them to an island where you lose your memory every night. they know that he is sketchy as fuck and they do not know if he means what he says. and that is reasonable and understandable and fair.

here is something that i don’t know if you guys know about abusers, regardless of if artagan is one or not. (and he’s not. i’m not even going to say i don’t think he is, he literally is not abusive. words mean something; stop throwing them around because you personally don’t like someone.) you cannot tell their victims that they are abusive or awful or manipulative or horrible, and expect that to help. that makes it worse. the same is true of cults. you cannot, and i mean CANNOT, make yourself hostile, because then the outside world is hostile, and the abuser is safe. the outside world is hostile, and the cult is safe. furthermore you’re reinforcing what every abuser and what every cult plants in their victim’s heads--i’m the only one who would put up with you. i’m the only one who really loves you. everyone else will be cruel to me, but i’m the only thing you have. even if the nein had reason to suspect that the traveler was straight up abusing jester instead of just weird and shady, that is not a good response.

no matter how bad artagan is or isn’t, fjord, caduceus, and beau are still being condescending. they are still failing to trust that jester knows what she’s talking about. they are still trying to coddle her, they are still treating her like a child, and i want to talk about that. i want y’all to see that they’re still treating her like she’s emotionally fragile. like individually, i want to talk about that, and also the fact that everyone seems to want to lump caleb into this. (and yasha?? yasha has barely said anything about him, y’all.)

i’m going to skim over caduceus a bit because i don’t think his is a jester-centric problem. he tends to just trust that he either has the correct answers to a situation, or that even if he doesn’t know what’s correct, he knows what isn’t. this arc has been very interesting, because it’s been a lot of “i’ll play along with this because it sounds intriguing, but i’m going to be very self righteous about it the whole time.” like. the “we’re good” when jester brought up transferring followers to melora is haunting me. why “we’re good”? i get cad’s philosophy that not everyone is going to flock to one god--that’s fine, that makes sense. but the implication of “we’re good” really makes it sound like “mmm no thanks, none of these people would end up in my cool and correct religion anyway.” because he doesn’t know! he doesn’t know if any of these people would actually be happier and better off with melora. or. maybe he does know, or has decided, that they wouldn’t be, because these are not the kind of people that he could see himself falling under the same moral umbrella as. (lmao love how i said i was going to skim. anyway. again, less a jester thing, more a “cad is smug about everything” thing tbh.)

let’s move to fjord. he is quite honestly making me almost more uncomfortable than beau, because he’s making statements that i don’t really actually believe. “we just don’t want you to get hurt” is all very well and good. coupling that with agreeing with beau that they shouldn’t leave jester alone with artagan? without telling jester? does not jive. (i’m still not over the ridiculous of that, by the way. yeah this dude--no, this ARCHFEY, who could snap you in half in a moment--has been alone with her regularly for the first 20ish years of her life but now, now he’s going to try and kill her, and you’re going to be the one to stop that.) fjord keeps saying things like this--that he trusts her--but he doesn’t actually act like it. at one point he even says “if jester has faith in the traveler, that’s good enough for me, i suppose.” but it’s not, and he doesn’t act like it is. you know who actually acts like that? caleb. caleb’s getting his own paragraph though this is getting long as fuck. but if fjord actually meant that? he would’ve told beau “listen i know this situation is sketchy and i don’t like him anymore than you do but because i trust jester i also trust that she knows what she’s doing here, and i’ll be there to back her up with whatever she needs/wants me to do”. but he did not say that or anything like that. instead he agreed with beau to essentially be bodyguarding jester--without consulting jester about it at all. he wouldn’t have told jester “he’s generally full of shit, right?” about the traveler. jester is continually telling the group over and over again that she knows what he’s like. she knows Exactly how he can be. and the sad thing is, if fjord actually believed that she knew what she was talking about when she said that and if he believed that he could actually talk to her frankly and not that her feelings had to be protected at all costs (my skin is still crawling at “we don’t wanna ruin jester’s special day”. it’s not a five year old’s birthday party), then he would have straight up told her. he would have said “hey we’re concerned enough that he’s going to hurt you that we don’t think you should be alone with him. can we help guard against that?”

and i’ll be honest, i’ve kind of been squicked out by all the romantic posts about fjord and jester because he’s spent the last few episodes genuinely treating her like a wonderful but vulnerable child who needs to be protected from the world. when he told beau "I'm probably the least clued in as to how jester feels” i was like YEAH NO SHIT. and i know he meant it in a romantic sense but i feel that it’s true in general. like i get that he’s scared to talk to her. that’s fine. he doesn’t have to talk to her about her feelings, romantic or otherwise. but if he’s acknowledging that he does not at all know how she feels then he has no right to behave as if he does know. and again i don’t mean this in a romantic sense. i mean it in a, he is making the assumption that she can’t handle reasoned criticism of the traveler to her face, kind of sense. he and beau both are opting for “random insults, threats, and judgments they have decided apply” over “genuinely this is why we are concerned”. there has been a lot of “you don’t need him” and “you are better off without him” and “you’re better than him” and “you have us why do you need that” and those are judgement statements that are essentially meaningless. all they do is further demonstrate to jester that they don’t actually understand why she’s upset or what she actually wants.

i think caleb, mr i-eat-encyclopedias-for-breakfast, likely just has a better intellectual understanding of the fae and that may be why he’s not as outwardly concerned as the rest, but he’s also actually decided to trust jester that she knows what she’s dealing with. she has demonstrated both verbally and with her actions that even if she may not have known about artagan initially, She Knows How This Works. and he trusts that. caleb truly went “alright, i trust that you know what you’re doing, where do you need me” and that was IT. i’m not saying that he’s not allowed to be suspicious or concerned or wary of the traveler: i just don’t think he is. and i hate that people keep lumping him in with the rest of the nein “treating jester like a child” because they think he’s predatory or something--especially as caleb and fjord are pretty much the same age--when he is literally the only FUCKING person consistently asking jester how she feels and then actually acting accordingly.

and the thing is, you don’t have to be caleb and largely unconcerned, it is actually possible for you to show concern and alarm and wariness for your friend’s best friend without condescending to them and veth has been doing that this whole damn time. we know how she feels about him; she decidedly does not like him. but she set that aside to really fully listen to jester and then tried to be helpful to her in deciding what to do next, without inserting her own opinion. veth is the only one acknowledging that, sure, this looks really bad and i don’t like that guy, but you know him best, jester, and you know yourself best and so it should be your choice what to do in this situation. she reminds jester--if he is really a friend to you, and he is doing things you don’t like, then you can talk to him about that and he should listen. i want to talk about how when jester suggested that artagan join the mighty nein, there were exactly three reactions. extremely lame excuses from everyone but caleb and veth, “maybe, like, an annex--” from caleb, because he knows what everyone else is gonna say, and “we don’t like your friend” from veth, literally the only person who has apparently decided that jester can hear that without dissolving into a puddle or something.

and i want to make it clear--i don’t hate the actors. and stories are supposed to make you upset and uncomfortable, to an extent. they’re supposed to make you think. you’re not supposed to be happy when darth vader blows up alderaan. you’re not supposed to be happy when edmund betrays his siblings to the white witch. these are all excellent, excellent character choices and i applaud the cast for making them. and i don’t hate fjorester. and like yeah there have been a lot of cute moments in the last few eps. and they are cute and their story is compelling and it’s interesting. but i wish people would stop acting like fjord’s attitude towards her is perfect and lovely and that he trusts her sooo much when he is going behind her back like this. i am...the biggest widomauk shipper. and i have to admit my heart does the swoopy thing every time i rewatch the forehead kiss. but that wasn’t great. it was overall really not a good read or handle of the situation. it was, there was an attempt. and i do think fjord is trying. and i think beau is trying too. and i think all of their attitudes however terrible just come from a place of loving her and wanting to protect her. but--and here i must point frantically back at artagan--loving someone does not mean that you’re not hurting them.

#artagan #the traveler #jester lavorre #fjord #beauregard lionett #caleb widogast #veth brenatto #the mighty nein #critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #thane watches critical role #long post

[the-river-person]

Secrets of the Deltarune

Okay so I was taking a closer look at the Deltarune and I started to notice some really weird things. It’s a symbol for the Kingdom of Monsters, right? Wrong. Gerson tells us “That's the Delta Rune, the emblem of our kingdom.The Kingdom...Of Monsters.” Okay so its the same thing, right? Nope. I looked up emblem and its distinction from Symbol. A Symbol represents an idea, a process, or a physical entity. While an Emblem is often an abstract that represents a concept like a moral truth or an allegory. And when it is used for a person, it is usually a King, a saint, or even a deity. An emblem crystallizes in concrete, visual terms some abstraction: a deity, a tribe or nation, or a virtue or vice and can be worn as an identifier if worn as say a patch or on clothing or armor or carried on a flag or banner or shield. So what does it matter? Well Gerson even tells us why. “That emblem actually predates written history.The original meaning has been lost to time...“  Hold up. Predates written history? The beginning of written history is approximately 5500 years ago. Somewhere around 3400 B.C.E. Thats a long time. And the prophecy that goes with the symbol talks about the Underground going empty, so it can only really be as old as The War Between Humans and Monsters. But...when was that? The game doesn’t tell us the exact dates. Well we have a couple clues. At the beginning of the game we have a little cut-scene of the war and then a bit where we see a human going up the mountain only to fall down into the Underground. Most players assume that this is you, beginning your adventure. Except its not. Later in the game, when you SAVE Asriel in the True Pacifist Route, we’re shown another cutscene with the exact same human figure in EXACTLY the same position, being helped by a very  young Asriel and the silhouette of Toriel. It’s Chara, not Frisk. So our date of 201X (2010-2019) takes place long before Frisk even arrives. We don’t know how long before. That really doesn’t help with when they were first thrown down there though. So I took a look at the images before that, of the war. The first image shows a human who is very different from the later pictures. Both the make of the spear and the animal hide-like clothing suggest that it’s probably stone age. The text tells us a very general “Long Ago”when describing how both races ruled the earth together. In the next two images we’re shown the actual war. The crowd of humans have various things like torches and spears. Those diamond type spears are very similar to Roman Pilums. The Human figure with a sword was interesting though. He bore a mantle (cape or cloak) and is sporting a sword. Though there’s not much detail, we can still identify the general time period of the sword. The size isn’t big enough for a proper claymore or longsword, or even a hand and half sword. Since our figure appears to be moving forward, and we can guess that it’s not in a friendly manner given the context, yet still holding the sword in one hand instead of two, it’s probably a one handed broadsword. It also has a cruciform hilt (cross-shaped) that is slightly curved. The blade is quite wide with what appears to be straight edges (based on two images with limited detail). And it has a very narrow Ricasso, an unsharpened length of blade just above the guard or handle. Ricassos were used all throughout history, but they’re pretty notable for the Early Medieval Period in Europe. And the rest of the sword (blade type, length, crossguard, and method of use) is very reminiscent of a Medieval Knightly Arming Sword, the prominent type of sword in that period from the 10th to 13th centuries. So I had to take a closer look at my spears. Turns out, they actually more closely resemble a medieval cavalry lance or javelin. And many Javelins have their root in the style of the Roman Pilums, including the sometimes diamond shaped tips. The sword and mantle of the figure suggest heavily he’s a knight, and backed up by the spear carriers we can guess that its the Early Medieval Period, possibly the beginning of the Romanesque Period. So that would place us all roughly a thousand and at least ten years before Chara fell into the Underground in 201X. Asgore was certainly alive back then. In the Genocide Route Gerson says “Long ago, ASGORE and I agreed that escaping would be pointless...Since once we left, humans would just kill us.“ and in the Post-Pacifist when you go back to talk to everyone he’ll say this when talking about Undyne “I used to be a hero myself, back in the old days. Gerson, the Hammer of Justice.” He even talks about how Undyne would follow him around when he was beating up bad guys, and try to help, by enthusiastically attacking people at random such as the mailman. This tells us that Gerson and Asgore are as old as the original war and both had been part of the battle. And both lived long enough to survive till now. Gerson is quite old looking, while Asgore is not. He explains this by saying that Boss Monsters don’t age unless they have children and then they age as their children grow, otherwise they’ll be the same age forever. But Undyne doesn’t appear to be old. And I started to wonder how long normal monsters lived in comparison to Boss Monsters. A long time for sure. From the Undertale 5th Anniversary Alarm Clock Dialogue we can learn that Asgore once knew a character called Rudy (who also appears in the Deltarune Game), who he met at Hotland University and appeared to be generally the same age as Asgore. Since it takes place in Hotland we know that it was already when they were underground, Asgore was King and was already doing his Santa Clause thing, and that Asgore was trying to find ways to occupy his time aside from actually Ruling. In the dialogue he tells us that Rudy began to look older than him. “I was there for it all. His Youth, his Marriage, his Fatherhood. Then, suddenly, one day... he fell down. ... Rudy... I... was never able to show you the sun.” Monsters can live a long time. But Boss Monsters, as long as they don’t have a child, can live nearly forever as long as they aren’t killed. Based on that, Undyne is probably quite young and Gerson is incredibly old even for a Monster, and yet only recently he’s stopped charging around fighting bad guys. Since Undyne was with him, those bad guys were in the Underground, and his distinction of her attacking not so bad folk like the mailman, means that he was probably in an official capacity to fight crime, such as a guardsman, or maybe captain of the royal guard. So. Even though there’s plenty of time for a prophecy to spring up naturally. We have a number of Monsters who have actually lived that long that would be more than happy to correct mistakes and assumptions. Gerson is quite elderly and is a tad forgetful, but he still knows much. Characters such as Toriel and Asgore are still hale and hearty, and both had witnessed so much. Though we know very little about the character, Elder Puzzler is also implied to be quite aged and knows a great deal about the “Puzzling Roots” of Monster History. You’re probably wondering what all of this is leading to. Well with these characters in place to maintain knowledge of history in the populace, then we have an Underground which created a prophecy AFTER it was trapped there, which leads me to conclude that when the prophecy was created, it must have been referencing something older than the War of Monsters and Humans.

“The original meaning has been lost to time... All we know is that the triangles symbolize us monsters below, and the winged circle above symbolizes... Somethin' else. Most people say it's the 'angel,' from the prophecy...” ‘Angel’. This is when we hear about the angel. We see the Deltarune on Toriel’s clothing and on the Ruins door. As well as behind Gerson himself. The thing he mentions clearly has wings of some kind. Surrounding a ball (note to self: Look into possible connection between mythical ball artifact from the piano room and the Deltarune Emblem). It looks a little like the fairy from the Zelda series. Those “triangles” are the greek letter Delta. That letter has a lot of connections and meanings to it. A river delta is shaped like the letter which is how it got its name. There are a number of maths and science connections. But the two connections you’d be interested in are that a Delta chord is another name for a Major Seventh Chord in music. The soundtrack of Undertale uses these chords to do fantastic things with the tone and aesthetic of its leitmotifs, changing them from a happy or hopeful tune, to a dark and despairing one without actually changing the melody. And in a subfield of Set Theory, a branch of mathematics and philosophical logic, it is used to calculate and examines the conditions under which one or the other player of a game has a winning strategy, and the consequences of the existence of such strategies. The games studied in set theory are usually Gale–Stewart games—two-player games of perfect information (each player, when making any decision, is perfectly informed of all the events that have previously occurred, including the "initialization event" of the game (e.g. the starting hands of each player in a card game)) in which the players make an infinite sequence of moves and there are no draws. But why is one of them turned upside down? I started looking things up again. Turns out there is such a symbol. The Nabla symbol is the Greek Letter Delta only inverted so that it appears upside down. Its name comes from the Phoenician harp shape, though its also called the “Del”. A musical connection is exactly what Toby would do. But its main use is in mathematics, where it is a mathematical notation to represent three different operators which make equations infinitely easier to write. These equations are all concerned with what is called Physical Mathematics. That is... Mathematics that calculate and have to do with measuring the physical world. Why is that relevant? Well the difference between humans and monsters is that humans have physical bodies while monsters are made primarily of magic. Well I also discovered that the Delta symbol for the ancient Greeks was sometimes used to as an abbreviation for the word  δύση , which meant the West in the compass points. West, westerly, sunset, twilight, nightfall, dusk, darkness, decline, end of a day. All this symbolism for a couple of triangles. There’s entire books devoted to them. And he calls the whole symbol, deltas and angel alike, the Delta RUNE. Whats a rune? Well a rune is a letter, but specifically a letter from the writing of one of the Germanic Languages before the adoption of the Latin alphabet. Interestingly... the Greek Letter Delta does NOT qualify as a Rune. In any stretch of the word. I searched for hours. What I DID find was the etymological origins of the word Rune. It comes from a Proto-Germanic word “rūnō“ which means something along the lines of “whisper, mystery, secret,  secret conversation, letter”. Interesting. So since its paired up with the Delta... it could be taken to mean “The Secret of the Delta” or “The Delta’s Secret”. If we make a few assumptions we might even get something like “The Secret of the West” or “The Mystery of the Twilight” or numerous other variations that have different connotations. It’s conjecture, certainly, and possibly a few stretches. But it is certainly there to think about. My thoughts centered around the positioning of the letters. The idea that the one facing up represented Humanity, and the two ordinary Deltas were Monsters. With the Angel above them all. Or rather, SOMETHING above them all. We have no proof that the idea of an Angel existed before the Underground’s prophecy. I like to think it did because usually that sort of thing draws on previously existing beliefs and ideas. For all we know the symbol could represent an abstract idea that governed both monsters and humans. Like “Kill or be killed” or “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you” or other basic idiomatic ideologies of that sort. Other than the realization that the Deltarune is older than the prophecy and the Underground, I didn’t have a concrete idea of what the Emblem actually means. Just a lot of theories and connective ideas. But there’s certainly a lot to be found. I don’t really know how much thought Toby actually put into this, but he’s quite well known for secrets within secrets. So its possible he knew all this going in. If he’s anything like me, and I am notorious for writing this sort of twisting references within references within references into my stories, then he’s probably at least aware of an existing connection. Its quite probably that the Deltarune is exactly what Gerson tells us. An emblematic set of symbols that is used to represent the continuing Kingdom of Monsters and has been since before written history. But as he says... its so old that it might have had a different meaning originally, whatever idea the Monsters wanted to remember, wanted to uphold enough to use it for their royal family and their kingdom, a reminder. Of something, or someone.

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