#wow its been months since i posted anything...... sorry gang

[pretendingboyfriends]

A/N: ok WOW first off, i’m so sorry i literally haven’t posted since december. these past few months have been so wild what with new classes and my mental health declining. i can’t promise the last few parts of this lil series will come at a timely manner just because my mental state can be very unpredictable, but i will try my best to get them out as fast as i can, especially when summer is right around the corner. i wanna thank @thestyleswritings and @friendlyneighborhood-mendes​ for being my lovely beta readers. as i’ve said before, my writing is nothing without betas so thank u for taking the time to review my piece and give me honest feedback. anyways, i made this part extra long for you guys and i really really hope you love it. <3

Warnings: explicit language, panic attack, anxiety, deidre being a megacunt (as always), smut 

Word count: 9.3k+

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It’s been a few days since your first date with Harry, the two weeks you’ve planned to spend at the beach feeling far too short as each day passes like a whirlwind. And over these days, you’ve found that getting comfortable with him is an easier feat than you’d initially imagined. Moments with him are hardly fleeting. You find yourself spending most of your time with him, whether it be going for a swim on the beach or sneaking off somewhere in the house to make out. If this were anyone else, you’d feel suffocated spending so much time with them, but with Harry it’s so much different. You can’t keep yourself away from him, even if you try, and you’re beginning to think that the feeling is quite mutual for Harry as well.

The air is humid and warm, a quaint breeze sifting through the leaves of the palm trees that surround the pool’s fence, finding its way to where the three of you lounge. The kiss of the sun blesses your exposed skin as you and Deidre lie side by side on the poolside chairs. You've lost count of how many hours the three of you have spent in the afternoon sun, but, as hot as it is, you're thoroughly enjoying every moment spent actually being with Deidre for once. Even if you aren't actually doing anything but lying in the sun, just the fact that she's spending time with you for longer than an hour makes you happy. 

Your eyes scan each line of the book in your hands, allowing your brain to paint a picture of each image as best as it can. Deidre snores quietly beside you, arms draped over her face to shield her eyes from the blinding light and Harry splashes around quietly in the pool, occasionally pulling himself under for a few moments before coming back to the surface for air again. 

As you turn the page of your book, the sudden splashing of water fills your ears before several cold droplets hit your warm skin. It immediately draws your attention away from your book and up to where Harry stands in front of your chair. 

"Hi," You muse, pulling your legs up to curl beneath you. 

"Hi back," He smiles as he pushes his fingers through his long, dripping wet hair. 

You pluck your sunglasses from your nose and gingerly place them on the top of your head so that you can get a better look at him. "Need something?" 

"Could you grab me a Coke from the cooler, please?" He asks, yanking his towel from the edge of his own chair and wrapping it around his shoulders. 

"Yeah, sure." You nod, sliding a bookmark into the spine of your book and placing it beside you on the chair before reaching into the cooler next to you for an unopened can. The chilled perspiration dripping down the aluminum can causes a chill to travel up your spine as soon as your fingertips make contact with it. You reach forward to place it into Harry's hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment.

He mutters a quick 'thanks' before cracking it open and lifting it to his lips. As he does this, you're given an opportunity to allow your gaze to fall down the rest of his body. His tanned skin glistens delicately in the sunlight, each droplet of water illuminated like tiny specks of glitter all along his chest and arms. The dark ink that litters his skin has somehow become a shade darker as well, each detail becoming more apparent to your eye the longer you study the expanse of his chest and shoulders.

"Enjoying the view?" Harry hums, very obviously amused by your mindless ogling. 

You clear your throat, feigning innocence as you internally burst into flames of embarrassment. "I don't know what you're talking about." (Luckily, Deidre is still snoring peacefully beside you, completely oblivious to the flirtatious comments being thrown back and forth between you and Harry.)

He chuckles, sipping his drink one last time before placing it on the ground by his chair. "Are you sure you don't want to come join me for a bit?" He motions back to the pool as he drops the towel back on the chair. 

"I think I'm alright staying here," You hum, tilting your head to the side as you gaze up at him. "I'm quite enjoying my book." You sigh, picking your book back up and waving it in the air to show him. 

He sighs in disappointment, shaking his head. "That's a shame. The water feels fantastic." 

You watch him turn back towards the pool, admiring the way the muscles in his back flex with his every move. He crouches down at the edge of the water, placing one hand on the cement as he slings himself into the pool, water splashing all around him. He swivels around in the water so that he's facing you again, his eyes trained on yours with a mischievous look on his face. You squint in suspicion, tilting your head to the side. "What are you doing?"

"Nothin'." He shrugs, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. He continues to wade out a little further and you roll your eyes at him, turning your attention away from him and back to your book. 

There are a few moments of silence in the air as you're pulled back into the imagery of the book, paying no mind to whatever mischief Harry is up to in the pool. But then, before you have even a second to process what's happening, cold water splashes up onto your legs, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as the book slips out of your grasp. 

"Harry!" You screech, sitting up on your chair to scold him. He's standing in the water at the edge of the pool with an evil smile spread across his face, his hands scooping up the water and splashing it up in your direction. The mixture of your screeching and the cold water reaching her side of the pavement, causes Deidre to wake from her slumber, scrambling up into a sitting position. 

"Harry, what the fuck!?" She screams from beside you, grabbing her sandal from the ground and hurling it in his direction. He cackles dramatically as he dodges the shoe by swiftly slipping beneath the surface of the water. The shoe falls into the water behind him with a loud 'PLUNK' and then resurfaces, floating aimlessly.

He rises back to the surface within a few seconds, chuckling as he pushes the sopping wet hair out of his face. "Sorry, did I get ya?"

Deidre scoffs, angrily wiping the water droplets from her legs with her towel. "I was having such a good nap and you ruined it." 

"Oh, come on," He rolls his eyes, dragging out the 'n' with a teasing lilt. "I was just playin' around. It's gettin' kinda boring being in here all alone."

She lies back against the chair exactly like she had been before, draping her arm over her eyes once again. "Suck it up." 

Harry wades back to the side of the pool, folding his arms against the warm cement and leaning his chin against them with a pout on his lips. "Pretty please?" 

Before either you or Deidre even has a moment to respond, Deidre's phone begins to sing loudly with the sound of her ringtone. She pats her hand around the chair for her phone for a few moments, not bothering to lift her arm from her eyes to look for it. She finally grasps it, sliding her thumb across the bottom of the screen and lifting it to her ear. 

"Hello?... oh, hey, what's up?" She speaks to the person on the other end, finally lifting her arm from her eyes so that she can sit up on the chair. "Yeah, I'd love to! I can be there in, like-" she pauses to glance at the time on her phone. "10 minutes?" Another pause. "Okay, sounds good, see you there!" She lifts the phone from her ear, tapping the screen once to end the call before quickly standing up from the chair. 

"Who was that?" You ask, tilting your head at her in curiosity, though you sense that you already know the answer. 

"That was Jeff and the rest of the gang. They invited me to mini golf with them," Deidre replies, folding her towel over her arm and picking her sandal up from the ground. "You can come along, if you want."

Immediately, you feel your mood begin to plummet as you watch her get ready to leave, barely even giving you a second glance as she retrieves her sandal from the water. You know she's not doing it on purpose, but it's hard not to feel hurt by her inability to spend even so much as a day with you. 

"That's okay," You respond, trying to mask the shakiness of your voice with a cheerful lilt. "Have fun, though." 

"Okay, well, I'll see you guys later!" She smiles, waving back to both of you as she turns on her heel and bounds up the porch stairs.

After the sound of the back door swinging shut fills your ears, you glance over in Harry's direction to find that he's watching you intently. His playful expression from just a few moments ago is exchanged with a concerned frown. You sigh, picking your book back up in hopes of finding a distraction from the sinking feeling deep in your stomach, but Harry has other plans. 

A fleeting, silent moment passes before Harry decides to speak.

"Hey," 

The sound of his voice pulls your attention away from the book in your hands, forcing you to move it from in front of your face so that you can look at him. "Hi," you make eye contact with him, finding that he's still in the same position from before, arms folded on the pavement as his chin rests against them. 

"You alright?" He questions, tilting his head to the side as he watches you. 

You shake your head a little, glancing down at the book in your lap. "It's fine. I don't really know what I was expecting, she's been doing this for the past week and a half. I shouldn't even be surprised at this point."

He's silent for a moment, gazing at you thoughtfully as he thinks of what he's going to say in response. "You really should join me in here. It'll help you get your mind off things." 

You hesitate, rubbing the back of your neck with the palm of your hand as you mull over his proposition. It'd be nice to have a distraction from the nagging feeling of betrayal deep within your chest, and you know Harry will do anything in his power to make sure you feel better. After a silent debate with yourself on whether or not you really want to join him, you push yourself up from the chair, muttering a quiet affirmation before slowly padding over to the edge of the pool.

You crouch down, moving to sit on the warm pavement as your legs hang over the edge and dip into the cool, clear water. Harry pushes himself off from the wall, spinning himself around 360 degrees. 

"Come onnnn," He sings, wading closer to you. "Come swim with me."

You scrunch your nose, kicking your legs in the water and staring down at the way the water splashes up into the air. "Gimme a minute to get used to the water, jeez." You scoff, kicking a bit of water in his direction. 

He rolls his eyes, wading closer to you so that you can feel his warm breath against your knees and the current his kicking feet create beneath you. "That's an excuse if I've ever heard one,"  his fingers curl around your right ankle, giving you another mischievous smile identical to the one he gave you earlier. 

"What are you doing?" You squint your eyes at him, cautiously tugging your leg against his grip. 

"M'helpin' you get in," he hums nonchalantly. "Seems like you need a bit of coaxing."

A small smile breaks across your face and you roll your eyes, placing your hands on the pavement behind you and leaning back against them. "I'm quite comfortable right here, actually." 

"Alright, then you leave me no other choice..." Before you can even process what he's saying, he's grabbing your other ankle and yanking you into the water in one quick movement. The water splashes around you, engulfing you beneath the surface and immediately soaking into your bathing suit.

You resurface, sputtering and choking on the water as you rub the chlorine from your burning eyes. "I hate you so much right now," You huff, dropping your hands and squinting up at him. He's wearing an mischievous smile, fully content with his successful attempt of getting you into the pool.

"It's really not that bad," he rolls his eyes, wading further away from you. "You'll get used to it." 

You glare at him, shoving your hands forward beneath the water to splash him directly in the face, but he merely laughs and swiftly wipes the droplets from his eyes like it's nothing. You watch as he slinks towards the very edge of the pool several feet away from you, turning back to face you before grabbing a small, foam ball floating on the surface. He tosses it in your direction, watching it land directly in front of you, splashing the water gently. 

"C'mon, toss it back to me,"

You take the ball into your hand, squinting up at him. "Is this your idea of fun?"

He shrugs. "Got any other ideas?"

At that, you roll your eyes and reluctantly hurl the ball back into his direction. He catches it swiftly with both hands, tossing it up into the air a few times as he contemplates his next move. 

“Oh, my god,” you groan, rolling your head back onto your shoulders in dramatic exaggeration. “I’m not doing this.” You turn to wade towards the side of the pool.

“No, wait!” He calls, immediately running (more like bobbing) through the water towards you as fast as he can. 

You ignore his call and start to climb the side of the pool, but he catches you before you can fully climb out, curling an arm around your waist and tugging you back against him. 

“Please,” he mutters, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck. “I know you’re upset, but I just wanna help you get your mind off things.” 

You sigh, reluctantly dropping your hands from the edge of the pavement. You’re silent for a moment as he rests his chin against your shoulder, small puffs of air hitting your damp skin.

“I really thought she was going to try to spend time with me today,” you whisper, turning in his arms to face him. “She didn’t tell me she wouldn’t do it again, though, so I guess I’m the only one to blame.”

He frowns at that, shaking his head. “Don’t blame y’self for any of this. You had expectations for this trip and she completely obliterated them.” 

Jutting your bottom lip into a pout, you avoid making eye contact with him. You know he’s right. She promised you she’d spend the trip with you, just you, but she’s almost done everything in her power to do the opposite. 

Harry leans forward, pecking your pouted lips gently. He starts to pull away, but you want more so you lock your arms around his neck and he takes that as an invitation to continue, pecking your lips in quick intervals. Even though you’d only just begun to show affection towards each other in this short period of time, it feels like you’ve been together for years. Everything is just so easy with him. It helps that you grew up with each other, but your interactions were so scarce over the years that you didn’t even feel like you really knew him until this trip. 

As you’re opening your mouth ever so slightly for him to stroke his tongue over your bottom lip, the feeling of his fingers creeping along your waist has you chuckling nervously. “What’re you doing?” 

“Nothin’...” He hums, hooded eyes gazing into yours as he traces his fingertips up against your sides. He leans in for another kiss with a lazy smirk on his lips and you hesitantly grant him one, wary of his wandering hands. 

Suddenly, his hands aren’t so gentle anymore and the seemingly harmless pressure of his fingers has turned into almost painful tickling. You throw your head back against your shoulders with a cackle, pressing your palms into his chest in an attempt to push him away but he doesn’t budge. The vicious assault of his fingers draws giggle after giggle from your lips with the occasionally squeal of frustration as you squirm in his unyielding hold. 

“I. Hate. You.” You grunt between each word, smacking your hands against his biceps, chest, and shoulders playfully. 

Finally, you’re able to tear away from him, nearly diving into the water to get away from him, but he’s faster than you and within moments he has a large, tattooed arm curled around your waist once again. You scream out in frustration, kicking your legs in the water and causing it to splash out in front of you nearly six feet into the air. 

“You can’t escape that easy,” he chuckles into your ear, continuing his assault on your poor midsection as you whimper and struggle limply. 

Suddenly,  a loud rumble of thunder pulls your attention from Harry’s abuse and up to the sky. You've been so distracted by Harry’s stabbing fingers that you hadn't seen the dark cumulonimbus' gathering directly above you in the sky, uttering low groans of warning to anyone near. It begins as small, harmless droplets, but quickly blossoms into a violent downpour, pounding into the surface of the water. 

“Fuck!” You screech as you scramble to get out of the pool. Harry is taking his time, though, laughing at the way you’re panicking. “Do you want to get struck by lightning?!” You yell to him, yanking your towel and book from the chair you were lying in before. 

He laughs at you, climbing out of the pool and standing by the edge briefly so that he can wipe the moisture from his eyes. The sight of him standing there in nothing but a tight, wet pair of swimming trunks, nearly causes your mouth to water. If it weren’t for the raging thunderstorm pelting you and everything around it, you’d take a few moments just to soak in the view, but you have no time for that. 

You bound up the stairs leading to the back porch, holding your book and towel close to your chest to keep them from getting any wetter than they already are. Harry soon follows with his own belongings, giggling playfully like a little boy as the screen door slams behind him. 

“Shit- that came out of nowhere!” He chokes, pushing his hand through the sopping curls sprouting from his head and framing his beautiful face. 

You shake your head at him with a small chuckle as you toss your towel to the side and yank the sliding door open so that you can step inside. Harry tosses his own towel over a porch chair before he follows you inside, sliding the door closed behind him. The contrast of the roaring sound of the storm outside compared to the silence inside the house is almost deafening. Both of you are wet and shivering on the carpeted floor, looking shamelessly like a pair of greasy rats. 

Both of you shower (separately) and change into more comfortable, dry attire, soon finding yourselves in the kitchen scavenging for something to eat. 

“Y’know what I’m really craving right now?” Harry asks, standing in front of the open refrigerator. 

“What?” You reply, popping a grape into your mouth as you lean back against the counter.

“Chocolate chip cookies.”

You pause for a moment, contemplating the prospect of freshly baked cookies melting in your mouth. “Now that you mention it, I'm really craving some as well."

"I think it's something in the water." He hums sarcastically, scrunching his nose to emphasize the sarcasm.

“Perhaps,” you hum in response, a smile itching to spread across your lips.

"Alright then, let's do it!" Harry says, pushing himself away from the counter. "Let's make chocolate chip cookies."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah! Come on, we've got nowhere else to be. This will give us something to pass the time!" 

Soon, you find yourself hip to hip with Harry at the kitchen counter, a large spread of every required ingredient to make chocolate chip cookies laid out in front of you. You'd found a few old aprons in the back of the pantry and of course you'd both thrown them on to make the experience as authentic as possible. 

Harry's apron of choice is a bright yellow number with tacky, purple frills lining the edges and the words "Grandma's Kitchen" stitched across the breast in that same purple color-all you can do is giggle at the sight of him. Yours, however, is nearly the opposite of his; a plain white piece with a pattern of small, black flowers.

Harry frowns at you when you begin to laugh at the sight of him in the apron. "What?? You don't like it?" He huffs, placing his hands on his hips.

"No, no-" you snort, attempting to hold in the cackle itching to escape your throat. "It's great, I love it. Really suits you."

He smiles to himself, turning to the counter. "Thank you, I think it's quite tasteful as well." 

You notice that he's pulled his hair up into a bun, so you're able to admire his face in the close proximity. He really is handsome, you think. His eyes are shockingly vibrant - piercing yet kind all at the same time. When he smiles, the very edges of his eyes crinkle as if they're smiling with him and it's getting harder for you to keep yourself from getting lost in them. You'd always found him attractive like that, but within the past week and a half you've gained a different, more meaningful attraction to him. He isn't just your childhood crush anymore - he's Harry. Harry, the boy who remembers how you take your coffee; Harry, the boy who takes you out to coffee and bookstores and proceeds to buy you nearly half the store without you even knowing; Harry, the boy that would rather spend his entire vacation with you when he could easily spend it partying with a new girl every night. 

You shake your head at him with a small chuckle, turning back to the counter before looking down at the recipe shown on your phone screen. "So..." you begin, scanning over the first few steps on your screen. "First, we need to combine all the dry ingredients into one bowl and then combine all the wet ingredients in another bowl."

"Alright," Harry hums through a nod, selecting all the dry ingredients from the layout in front of you and collecting them into his corner. "I'll mix the dry ingredients."

You acknowledge him with a quiet murmur before you continue to scan the list of instructions. As you do so, your vision begins to blur slightly. You ignore it at first, hoping it goes away, but when it doesn't, you're forced to blink a few times in an attempt to clear it. Your attempts are in vain, however, because your vision does not improve. Nevertheless, you choose to ignore it in hopes that it will go away on its own. 

As you begin to crack eggs; scoop perfectly measured cups of sugar; and combine softened butter all together into a bowl, a slight wave of light-headedness overwhelms you. It's unexpected, so you place the bowl on the counter, sliding it away from you slightly so that you can grip the edge of the counter to stabilize yourself. 

Harry seems to notice the shift in your behavior, nudging your arm gently with his elbow to grab your attention. "Is everything alright? Y'look a bit flustered," 

Before you're able to respond, your heart rate suddenly and noticeably begins to increase as well, causing your breathing to become more labored and frantic. You shake your head, gripping the edge of the counter until your knuckles are white, head hung on your shoulders as you attempt to catch your breath. "I think I'm- I think I'm having a panic attack," 

You sense him moving closer to you, a warm palm pressed against your back in a soothing manner. "Can I- What can I do to help?" 

"I just- I need to sit down," You mutter between breaths, turning slightly to slide down the cabinets and onto the floor with your hand still firmly placed against your chest. A slight numbness begins to form around your nose and your hands begin to shake uncontrollably as you crumple onto the kitchen floor. 

Harry follows quickly, moving to sit directly in front of you and gently taking both your hands into his own. "Can you try to breathe a bit slower for me?" He mutters, rubbing his thumbs against your knuckles soothingly. "Maybe in through your nose and out through your mouth?" 

You nod to him, taking deep breaths in through your nose and then breathing out through your mouth just like he'd instructed. The feeling of his thumbs rubbing against your skin so gently helps to ground you in the moment, although the feeling of panic and anxiety still rages through your veins. Just his presence alone gives you a level of comfort, but it isn't enough to obliterate the numbness in your face and the hot tears gliding effortlessly down your cheeks. 

You don't know how much time passes, but eventually your breathing has gone back to normal and you're left exhausted and still shaking. 

"Are you feeling better?" He hums, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles as he gazes up at you with the same concerned expression he'd been sporting as soon as your episode began. 

"Yeah- Yes," You stutter in response, leaning your head back against the wooden cabinets. "Fuck, I don't even know where that came from, I'm sorry." 

"No, please, don't apologize. Just wanna make sure you're alright,"

You give him a weak smile. "I'm pretty exhausted, but I'll be okay after lying down for a bit or taking a nap." 

"Yeah? Need me to help you up or do you want to sit here for a while longer?" He asks, tilting his head to the side as he smiles back at you.

"Do you think you could get me some water, please?" 

"Of course," He nods, immediately standing up in front of you to grab a fresh glass from one of the upper cabinets and fill it with water before kneeling back down to place it into your trembling hands. "There you are, babe."

You smile up at him. "Thank you." 

He smiles back as if to say "you're welcome" as he gently rubs his knuckles against your arm to give you some form of comfort.

It takes nearly 10 minutes for you to gather your bearings on reality again, but having Harry there helps so much more than if you were experiencing this alone. He watches you intently the entire time, hyper aware of every breath you take like he's afraid you'll fall apart in front of his eyes, and all you want to do is reach up and smooth out the deep creases between his eyebrows. 

"Could you help me up now?" You croak, squeezing his hand gently. 

"Yeah- yes, of course." He scrambles to securely wrap an arm around your waist, his other hand still clutching one of yours as he lifts you from the kitchen floor. Once you're fully stabilized on both of your feet, you look at Harry, hands resting on his shoulders as he cups his hands around both your elbows, searching your face frantically for any sign of distress. "You alright?"

You nod, giving him a weak smile and sliding your arms up around his neck to pull him in for a hug. His arms immediately fall to wrap around your waist, pressing your body into his in a warm, comforting embrace. 

"Sorry I couldn't finish making the cookies with you," You mutter into his ear, pressing your face into his neck. 

"S'alright, I can manage on my own." He replies, rubbing his hand up and down the length of your back. He can feel the erratic thudding of your heart against his chest, your slow, shaky breaths fanning directly over his ear simultaneously. His heart aches. 

After you take yourself back to your bedroom to rest, Harry finishes the cookies by himself. Due to his previous baking experience, the task is a breeze, but during the time he spends mixing and preparing the cookies, all he can think about is how angry he is with Deidre. He'd seen her, time and time again, take advantage of your kindness without a single thought as to how it might make you feel. She's selfish, and you're far too good for her. Deidre doesn't deserve to call you her best friend.

Just as he begins to pull the steaming, golden cookies from the oven, the sound of the front door swinging open from behind him catches his ear. Deidre stumbles in from the pouring rain, fumbling around as she removes her sandals and tosses her tote bag to the floor next to them. 

He pokes his head into the living room to look at her. She's almost completely soaked-- her long, dark hair is sopping wet, clumping together in thick strands, and her thin cover-dress is soaked completely through, sticking to her figure like a glove. He hadn't even noticed it's been raining this entire time. 

"Hey! Mini golfing got cut short 'cause of the rain." She smiles, pushing her hair out of her face as she looks at him. 

He responds with a low grunt, stepping back into the kitchen without a single word. Her peppiness annoys him. 

"Did you bake something?" She continues, sauntering into the kitchen. "Smells fantastic!"

"Chocolate chip cookies," he replies bluntly as he wipes the counter down with a damp towel.

"Can I have one?" 

"Sure, do whatever you want." He snaps, tossing the towel into the sink in frustration. 

She frowns at him, her shoulders dropping a little at the sight of the slight scowl on his face and the sudden outburst he'd just had. "What's your deal?" 

He turns to her. "What's MY deal? My fucking 'deal' is that you were meant to come here to spend time with your best friend and the longest you've spent in the same vicinity with her is when you're sleeping! She came here expecting to find a distraction from the shitty time she's been having at school and you've made it worse for her!" 

Deidre stands in shock, the hand that had been reaching for a cookie now fallen limp at her side. 

"She's in bed resting right now because she had a panic attack on the kitchen floor not even an hour ago-"

"That's not my fucking fault!" She interrupts him, throwing her arms out expressively. 

"Maybe not, but you're not doing anything to help her! You knew she was having a hard time at school and invited her here as a distraction, yet you left her to spend two weeks all by herself! If I hadn't have come along, she'd have been left on her own or forced to join you on your little escapades without a single choice." He huffs, yanking the strings of his apron to untie them from each other before pulling it over his head and hurling it to the ground. 

“You know, I asked her every time I went out if she wanted to come with me,” Deidre grumbles, shaking her head, “but she turned me down every single time.”

“Yeah, y’know why she turned you down?” Harry immediately retorts with a growl. “Because she didn’t want to spend time with a couple of random blokes that you know far better than she does!”

She snaps her mouth shut, a deep scowl etched across her brow as she stands in front of him. 

"You have no regard for anyone else besides yourself and I am not going to let you ruin this trip for her. So, PLEASE, keep doing exactly what you're doing because I'm positive she's had more time with me than the two of you ever had together!" With that, Harry storms out of the room and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and leaving Deidre standing speechless in the kitchen.

Unbeknownst to Harry and Deidre, the quarrel wakes you from your slumber in the other room, causing you to become a bit curious and move closer to the door so that you can listen to the lava spewing from both sides. The fight isn’t long, but you hear nearly every word. The way Harry so passionately defends you in the situation, which had initially caused you to feel so unbelievably helpless, gives you a sense of comfort. You know he cares about you, but there’s something so endearing about actually hearing him defend you with so much fervor. 

The slamming of Harry’s bedroom door echoes down the hallway, indicating the end of their conversation. You step away from your own door, the backs of your knees hitting the edge of the mattress as you sit. You can hear Deidre walking down the hallway, so to make it seem like you weren’t eavesdropping on their entire conversation, you return to where you were on the bed previously and pretend like you’re asleep.

“Harry?” Your knuckles rap against the wood of his bedroom door gently, careful not to wake Deidre in the other room by knocking too loudly. There’s a brief pause and a shuffling of bed sheets from behind the door before it cracks open, revealing Harry in his sleepy, disheveled state. 

“Hi,” He croaks, licking his lips and crossing his arms over his hoodie-clad chest. “Is everything alright?”

You sigh, scratching the back of your head nervously. “Yeah, um- sorry, everything’s fine, I’m just- I’m having some trouble sleeping and- this is stupid, but… could I stay in here with you?” It takes a moment for him to process your words, but once he does he’s nodding and stepping aside to beckon you into his room. “I’m really sorry, I know you were probably sleeping-”

“S’alright, babe, don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head. “Why don’t you go and get comfortable on the bed while I grab us some tea?”

You nod, giving him a small, tired smile as he steps out of the room, leaving the door cracked slightly. You make your way over to his bed, the duvet pulled back along with the sheets, indicating where he’d been lying on the bed moments ago. Your knees land on the soft fabric as you crawl further into the queen sized bed, finding your place on the other side where the duvet is untouched. A warm mixture of chamomile, jasmine, and a hint of cedar wood engulfs you when you lay your head on his pillow. The smell is intoxicating, one whiff could send you into a peaceful, drunken slumber. But, instead of actually falling asleep, you lie there for a few moments, listening to the gentle sounds of the ceiling fan spinning above your head as it lulls you into a quiet reverie. 

Soon, Harry is entering the room again, breaking you from your thoughts as you look to find him stepping through the door with two white, porcelain mugs filled to the brim with steaming tea. 

“I hope you’re alright with green tea ‘cause that’s all we have,” He murmurs, moving very slowly towards the bed.

“Green tea is perfect, thank you.” You smile, making sure not to burn yourself or spill any of the precious beverage as he crawls onto the bed beside you and places one of the mugs into your welcoming hands. Once the tea is secured, you adjust yourself so that you're sitting against the headboard, body tilted slightly in Harry's direction.

“So,” He starts, blowing on his own tea in an attempt to cool it down faster. “Is there a specific reason why you aren’t able to sleep?”

You take a deep breath, crossing your legs comfortably. “I'm, um, having a bit of anxiety and sleeping with Deidre just isn't helping since she's always making some sort of noise."

“Anxiety?” He frowns, moving his lips away from his tea so that he can be fully attentive to what you're saying. “Are you alright? Do you need me to help with anything?"

“I guess I'm still a bit on edge from earlier, so there isn't much you can do besides just keep me distracted,” you reply, forcing a small smile. "And the tea helps a lot as well."

"I can definitely do that." He smiles, leaning in to peck your lips gingerly. Of course, you welcome the kisses happily, pulling him in for a few more after he pulls away from the first one. He chuckles into your lips, deepening the kiss by tilting his head every so slightly to the side. Your free hand rests against his chest, so you can feel the gentle vibration of his chortle through the fabric of his hoodie and it makes you smile.

“Oh, also-” you continue after you've parted from his lips. “I never properly thanked you for the books you bought for me. I really do not deserve all that, but thank you, really. They will definitely be of good use.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “S’no problem. You seemed so enthralled by each of them and I thought it’d be a shame for you not to go home with at least a few.” 

You smile to yourself, glancing down at your tea. "You really didn't need to do that, but, again, thank you." You reach up to gently cup the side of his face, leaning a little bit closer so that you can capture his lips between yours once again. This time, the kisses aren't as innocent. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer to you as his tongue slowly slides against your bottom lip. If it weren't for the steaming mugs of tea in both yours and Harry's hands, it would be so much easier for either of you to take more control of the situation and move into something more than just kissing. You can sense that he wants to do something, and admittedly you do too, but you pull away before anything can happen.

"That isn't the only reason why I came here tonight, though," you speak again as your lips part from his.

He frowns slightly, tilting his head to the side as if to ask: "what's the other reason?"

"I overheard your conversation with Deidre earlier." 

His eyes widen. "Oh, fuck- listen, I'm sorry I got kind of carried away. It just made me so angry to see her continuously treat you like that and I- I didn't mean to, like, speak for you-"

"No, Harry, it's okay," You interrupt him before he can continue rambling. "I appreciated it. I probably wouldn't have been able to do it myself, so thank you."

“I really didn't want to make it seem like you can't stand up for yourself, but I know it's just been affecting you so much lately and she needed to be put in her place, even if it made her angry."

"Thank you, really. Usually, Deidre would've been the person to stand up for me for something like that, but lately we just haven't felt as close. Even before this trip. Kinda started to think she just invited me here out of pity... And I honestly wouldn't blame her if she did. " You shrug, staring down into the tea to avoid direct eye contact. 

Harry shakes his head. “Don’t think like that-- I’m sure she really did want you to come, but just got distracted by other things. She tends to do that sometimes.”

You shrug wordlessly, keeping your eyes trained to the gently swirling liquid in your cup. 

When you look back up at him, you realize how cozy and warm he looks just sitting there in his hoodie and sweatpants, mug of steaming tea sitting at his pink lips. Your tank-top and shorts aren’t doing much to help with the chilled draft wafting throughout the house, so seeing him like that makes you want to crawl into his arms in search of warmth. 

He notices the way you’re shivering and moves to set his mug on the bedside table. “Are you cold?”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, a little. The anxiety gives me cold flashes.” He quickly tugs his hoodie over his head as soon as the words leave your lips, carefully taking the mug of tea from your hands and placing it on the bedside table before holding the hoodie open for you to slide your arms in easily. Your heart nearly melts at the sentiment, sliding your arms into the sleeves and pulling the piece of clothing over your head. It’s warm, soft and smells just like him, and it immediately gives you a sense of comfort. “Thanks.” You smile.

“S’no problem,” he replies, reaching over for your mug to offer it back to you. You carefully take it from his hands, thanking him before taking another tentative sip. The liquid is still a bit hot, but it has cooled down just enough for you to sip at your own leisure. 

“You’re way too sweet to me, Harry,” you sigh, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over your fingers.

“Y’know, I don’t think I am,” he shakes his head, moving closer to you on the creaky mattress. “Think I should be sweeter, show you how much you deserve it.”

You scoff quietly, looking away from him to hide your flustered expression. “Oh, shut up.” 

He falls silent, the only sound that can be heard being the shuffling of the sheets and creaking of the mattress as he moves closer to you again. And then you feel it: his lips pressed to your shoulder through the thick material of his hoodie. It’s soft but it’s there and as soon as you turn your head to look at him, he pulls away, staring directly into your eyes with an almost unreadable expression.

“You deserve so much more than what you think you deserve. I wish I could show you that.”

You maintain eye contact with him, breath caught in your throat. You’re rendered speechless at the depth of his words, forced to take slow, deep breaths to calm the pounding of your heart as he inches closer. You open your mouth to respond, but you’re unable to speak a single word other than the faint murmur of his name. 

His hand finds both of yours as they clutch the warm mug of tea, (tighter than you’d initially intended due to the tension clouding your brain) carefully prying it from your fingers before placing it on the bedside table. You angle your body towards him, taking his face in your hands before moving forward to plant your lips against his. He immediately returns the kiss in a slightly more fervent manner, pushing you to fall back against the pillows as he cages you in with his arms. 

Despite the unexpected escalation of what began as an innocent conversation, Harry begins kissing you slowly, his tongue laving over your bottom lip and into your mouth. You allow his body to move between your legs as he kisses you, your hands holding desperately onto the nape of his neck and curve of his jaw.

“Wanna show you,” He mutters between hot, wet kisses. “Can I do that?” His face hovers over yours for a moment, waiting for you to say something. 

“Yeah- yes, please.” You breathe, reaching up to place your hand on the back of his neck and pull his lips back into yours. 

Immediately, Harry’s fingers curl into the waistband of your shorts, helping you tug them down your bare legs and toss them to the side before he lets his hands glide down your legs from your thighs to your calves, reveling in the softness of your skin. He pulls his lips away from yours, staring down into your eyes as his hand falls between your legs, fingers slowly finding your clit over your warm, damp panties. 

You hadn’t planned any of this so, of course, so your panties are nothing special, but when Harry lets his head fall down to look at where his fingers meet your sex, a shaky sigh leaves his pink lips. It sounds as if he’s in pain just from the sight of you and he hasn’t even taken your panties off yet. 

His lips fall to your neck, pressing hot, wet kisses along each side before trailing down the front of your hoodie clad chest. Once he reaches your lower region, his arms hook beneath your legs, slinging them over his shoulders as he moves to lie on his stomach between them. His hot breath washes over your clothed cunt, causing your legs to quiver around his shoulders at the sensitivity and you suck in a breath to hold back a gasp. 

He starts slowly as he peels the soft cotton of your panties from your skin, dragging them ever so slowly down your legs before nudging them aside on the bed. You’re finding it increasingly difficult not to squirm beneath his scorching gaze, but with his arms locked tight around your thighs, your movements are clearly limited. 

Harry begins to press gentle, open-mouthed kisses to the supple skin of your inner thighs, nipping lightly between each kiss. Much to your dismay, he pulls away, his knees still planted on the mattress between your legs as he scoops his luscious hair into his hands and pulls it back into a quick, messy bun. You lie there watching him, chest heaving with your labored breaths and he smirks. 

“Haven’t even started and you’re already out of breath,” he drops back down to hover over your body and you're left to cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, feeling the heat radiating from your skin to your palms. His long fingers circle your wrists, gently tugging your hands away from your face so that he can plant another firm kiss to your lips. "You sure you wanna keep going?"

He stares down at you with a cautious and gentle look in his eyes as he waits for you to respond. His need for consent is comforting and you can tell he really cares. "I'm positive. Please, keep going."

Content with your response, Harry smiles, pecking your lips one last time before crawling back down your body and slinging your legs back over his shoulders just like they were just moments ago. Since he'd removed your panties, there's no barrier between his lips and your glistening sex, his warm breath washing over your sensitive skin and causing your thighs to quiver ever so slightly. 

"Ready?" He asks quietly, virescent eyes meeting yours through thick, brown lashes. 

His purposeful prolonging has caused you to grow a little impatient, so you huff a frustrated "please," to him in hopes of speeding up the process. He chuckles a little, but finally brings his mouth to your hot skin, tongue peaking out from between his lips to slowly drag against your clit. A shaky breath escapes your lips at the initial contact, and then he presses forward, wrapping his pink, swollen lips around your sensitive button, sucking gently and it causes a much louder moan to tumble from your mouth. Your hand falls to his head, fingers pushing into the hair that was once pulled tight against his head by the messy bun. He lifts his head slightly at the sound of your moan, bringing a finger to his glistening lips as he gazes up at you, mischievous glint behind his eyes. 

"Sorry, sorry." You whisper breathlessly and he shakes his head, shoulders shaking with his slight laughter. 

His mouth finally returns to your lips, eyes trained to yours to ensure that you don't make any more loud noises before he delves back in, fully devoting himself to your pleasure. Your lip slips between your teeth in a feeble attempt to contain the breathless whimpers and moans itching to spill from your mouth and your hand continues to press into his hair. The pleasure you feel from just his lips and tongue is undeniably amazing. It's obvious the man doesn't shy away when it comes to foreplay and that only eggs on your aroused state. 

Languid strokes of Harry's tongue gradually turn into quick, firm flicks that cause your thighs to quiver with pleasure as you clamp your own hand over your mouth to muffle your involuntary noises. He hums against you purposefully so that the vibrations double the work of his tongue and lips into a delicious harmony of blissful ecstasy and your back arches from the sweat-damp sheets beneath you. Your skin is clammy and hot from the heat being emitted from your body, yet the uncomfortable, tacky feeling of it is the last thing on your mind. His mouth is a drug and you're an addict, beseeching for the next dose. 

Muffled moans and the sound of his swollen lips colliding with your dripping folds fills the small bedroom and it only makes Harry move faster, desperate to have your release glistening against his chin and upper lip as he gazes down at your heaving body. He wants you to fall apart; he craves to watch you find that burning release within the pit of your stomach and melt into the sheets from the pleasure of it. If only you knew how many times he dreamt of having you in this exact position, nearly sobbing from the work of his skilled mouth. 

"Thought about this so many times-" he pulls away, allowing his thumb to take the place of his lips and rub gentle circles against your throbbing clit. "Taste better than I could've ever imagined. Just wish I could really hear you." 

His drawled words and the lack of warmth directly against your cunt draws you to look down at him breathlessly, unable to muster a response to his confession. He chuckles at that, not expecting a response before he returns to the task at hand. By now, you're teetering over the edge, aimlessly grasping for a pillow to press over your face in an attempt to silence the growing sounds that emit from the back of your throat. Finally, you find yourself toppling over the notorious edge, the pillow that's pressed firmly against your face throughout the entirety of your orgasm doing its job in muffling your noises.

Harry watches you pulse and shiver helplessly for just a few moments before his hands are pulling the pillow from your face and tossing it above your head so that he can kiss you again. His lips and tongue taste of you as he explores the depths of your mouth and your heart continues to pound against your chest with your labored breaths. 

He pulls away from your face after a moment, smiling as he tilts his head to the side. "How was that?"

"That was-" a puff of air leaves your lips, "that was good."

"Just good?" He frowns, pecking his lips down the column of your neck. 

“I- fuck, Harry I don’t even know what to say, it was amazing.” You laugh breathlessly, tucking your fingers into his hair. 

“Amazing, hm?” He smirks. “Would you say it was five out of five stars?” 

A broken laugh leaves your lips again. “Yeah, I’d say it was five out of five.” Heat thunders across your face as you breathe another flustered giggle and he chuckles along with you, leaning forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. He presses a few soft, wet kisses to your skin and exhales, his warm breath causing goosebumps to bloom there. His ego has inflated quite a bit from your confession, but that doesn't hinder his desires to make you as comfortable and satisfied as possible.

“Do you need some water, or maybe a snack?” 

You push yourself up onto your arms, frowning at him. “What about you?” It’s almost unbelievable to you that after he worked so tirelessly to make you come, his first thought is to ask you if you need anything more, as if he hasn’t already done enough for you.

He rolls over onto his back beside you, staring up at you. “What about me?”

You briefly glance down his body, noticing the visible tent in his sweatpants. “Can I do something for you?”

“If you want to,” he shrugs, trying in vain not to show his agony. He’s obviously uncomfortable. “But I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do anything.”

You nearly roll your eyes at his unwavering chivalry, wordlessly lifting yourself up and slinging your leg over his hips to straddle him. “I want to.”

At that, Harry lifts himself up off of the bed and wraps an arm around your waist to press you into him, that small bit of friction alone causing a low whimper to slip past your lips. His mouth finds yours, fervently pulling kisses from your lips as he guides your hips against his own. You’ve imagined this scenario so many times, yet the feeling of your own fingers frantically coaxing you to release is nothing compared to the feeling of Harry’s warm body beneath you. 

Even through the fabric of his sweatpants, you can feel how thick he is and it only makes you want to move faster. His lips have attached themselves to the spot between your jaw and neck, skillfully biting and sucking at the skin as your hips gyrate against his. You can already feel the burning sensation growing between your legs due to how sensitive you are from your previous orgasm, and Harry seems to be reaching his own climax as well. He’s clawing at your hips and ass, desperate to have you as close to him as possible as low grunts fall from his lips.

It doesn’t take long for you to find your release, choking out Harry’s name as your fingers tug and yank at his now lopsided bun. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, continuously swiveling your hips against his as he chases his own impending orgasm.

“Shit!” He groans a little too loudly as he comes, but you’re quick to shush him, slapping your palm over his mouth while your hips work him through his climax. Your thighs are burning and beads of sweat break out along every inch of your skin, but the satisfaction of knowing you’re working him down to his very last drop is enough to keep you going until neither you, nor him can take it anymore. 

Once you finally fall limp against his body, he musters enough strength to roll you onto your back, pressing a few chaste kisses along your jawline. 

“Was it five out of five?” You breathe, keeping your eyes shut as you lean your head back against the pillow. 

“Hm?” He hums, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Would you rate my skills five out of five?”

“Oh, definitely.” He chuckles breathlessly. 

feedback is always welcome and don’t forget to reblog!!

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[filmflowersbangtan]

Dead of Night (preview)

pairing: gang member!jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: swearing | drug mention | gangs | in the full story, there will be violence, blood, fighting, threatening 

preview word count: 4k

you meet jungkook in a diner in the early morning where it’s just the two of you in the entire place. An interesting relationship ensues, and you find out he’s not who you thought he was. He’s a prominent member of the city’s most powerful gang, surrounded by danger and trouble. But you still want him.

--

author’s note: I sincerely apologize for being gone for so long and for not updating any of my fics. To everyone waiting on IMSWY pt. ii: I am so sorry for taking so long with it. It’s still in my WIPs, and I haven’t given up on it yet, but it is on the back burner right now since I have many other ideas bubbling up that I absolutely have to write or else they will probably internally set me aflame (lol). 

I will be deleting many of my fics soon. I will be keeping “Unbound,” “I Must Still Want You,” “Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold,” and “Lonely Planets.” Everything else I will be deleting because I have no desire to finish working on them or I simply do not like them anymore and can’t see them going anywhere.

I also will probably not be writing anymore series. Everything will most likely be one shot because every time I start a series, I get too overwhelmed with the idea of updating parts and finishing them that I just end up postponing them for too long and leaving too many people who have been looking forward to them disappointed. I do want to say that I have been going through So Much since I last posted Lonely Planets pt. ii and IMSWY, but I am in a so so so much better place now. That’s why I’m even writing this story now.

This will be a oneshot. It will not be a series. It will be very long. I am almost finished with it, but I am posting this preview just to see if you all would like to continue reading it.

Thank you all. I appreciate all the feedback and the follows and the reblogs so, so much. The feedback and the reblogs of Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold is what really motivated me to write this one. I hope you all enjoy it. 😊

--

Being alone was like an addiction. It was fulfilling and appealing and…well, lonely. 

Two in the morning diner stops during the weekdays had become routine. The place was completely empty save for a waitress and a cook and maybe a tired trucker. You tucked yourself in a booth in the back. The vinyl seats were cracked and uncomfortable, the lighting was stark and washed everything raw. But it was comforting. Sleep was evasive and your apartment was barely unpacked, boxes stacked haphazardly in the dining area and the mattress on the living room floor. It was your idea to move to this vast city far away from home. This city swallowed everything in its incessant noise. Nocturnal and teeming with cars and neon lights. It never rested and the two of you had that in common. You took solace in that. 

The air was thick with bacon grease and bitter black coffee. Every morning you had waffles and orange juice. The refills were free and the waffles were the exact same circumference as the plate underneath it. Time was stagnant here. The city pressed against the plate glass windows, but the reflections from inside barred its entry. If you looked out, you simply stared directly at yourself. Maybe there was some kind of metaphor in that. 

The night shift waitress, Bethany, set your plate of steaming waffles on the table as well as a glass syrup dispenser. She knew you by name and you thanked her for the food. She smiled sweetly and left you be. 

The door chimed, denoting the entry of another patron. You didn’t look up. Bethany greeted the person in her cheerful customer service voice. You knew she didn’t actually sound like that. Once, you glimpsed her smoking a cigarette by the dumpster at the back of the diner arguing with her boyfriend on her cell phone. She had a tired voice. You wondered if she was lonely, too.

As you ate, Bethany took the patron’s order. From where you sat, his voice was a mumble. “You got it!” Bethany said before breezing away.

You glanced up from your food at the patron. Hair dyed blond, dark brown at the roots. He had a gentle face and a mouth made for smiling or furtively suppressing them. Tattoos were stippled on his arm all the way down to his knuckles. He was staring down at his phone, his fingers were slender and embellished with many silver rings. He was impossibly handsome. A paragon of beauty. 

And he looked up. Right at you. Why was it at that moment you happened to notice him, he decided to notice you, too?

Your scalp prickled with hot embarrassment. You immediately averted your eyes back to your waffles. There was only a bite remaining. Good. You could finish, get your check, pay, and leave.

Boldly, you chanced another glimpse. He did, too. This time, a smile, broad and lovely, stretched across his face. It was endearing and intimate and you had never felt so seen. It was exhilarating. A small smile crept onto your mouth. You couldn’t help it. His smile was contagious. 

This was how the following hour went. Weighted glances and secret smiles from across the room. He received his food, and he picked up his plate and mug of coffee and…was he coming this way?

You watched him, eyes wide, as he sauntered over to your booth and set his items on your table. “May I sit?” he said. His voice was the perfect match to his face. Smooth, sonorous, soft. Crushed velvet. 

Jerkily, like you had never done it before, you nodded. He sat. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you replied. 

“I’m Jungkook.”

You told him your name. He repeated it once, twice, thrice. Like he enjoyed the feel of it in his mouth, rolling it around like a piece of hard candy he didn’t want to dissolve on his tongue just yet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached his hand over the table. You smiled and shook it. 

His plate was piled with pancakes and sausages and scrambled eggs. He dug in. In between bites, he asked, “So what brings you here at this time of night?” “I have trouble sleeping. And you?” Your chest was tight with the awkwardness of it all, but he appeared to be perfectly at ease. 

“I’m just a night owl. Or I’m a vampire.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued eating.

Surprisingly, laughter bubbled from you until you couldn’t help the giggles that shook you. How long had it been since you had a conversation with anyone? Your store had been a drought for the past month, only a couple of people coming in a day. You didn’t call home because your parents would ask how you’ve been, and that topic lit a fire in your skull. Bethany was just a waitress doing her job. And Nora was always busy. It was refreshing to have someone sit with you. Talk with you. Want to be near you. 

His eyes danced at the sound of your laughter. It was an innocuous expression, boyish in how pure it was. 

You covered your mouth with your hands to mask the laughter. And he gently grabbed your wrist and removed them. “I like your laugh.”

Butterflies unfurled their wings in your stomach and fluttered in a frantic cluster. He resumed his meal as if nothing happened. “So what do you do?”

You cleared your throat. “I own a used book and record store downtown. It’s small and kind of hidden from the street, but it’s there.” You chuckled nervously. You were proud of that store, but you might have to close it down soon and return to your hometown with your tail tucked in between your legs if the revenue continued as it did. 

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s super cool. I like records. Books, not so much. Where is it located?”

You told him the address. “By that bodega on the corner.”

“The one that sells the really good blue raspberry shaved ice?”

You snapped your fingers. “That’s the one.”

“I’ll definitely have to stop by.” 

This was how the next few hours went. Talking about everything and nothing. He had lived in the city his entire life, worked as a freelance artist, had an apartment not too far away. Plates had been swept away by Bethany long ago. Refills poured, drained, and poured again.

And then, “Do you maybe want to get out of here? Kick it at my place?” Jungkook asked. His expression was open and genuine. 

You didn’t know if that was a good idea. But talking to him was stimulating and you didn’t want it to end. 

He noticed your hesitation. “Turn you location on your phone, I’ll even give you my address so you can send it to your friends. Anything to make you feel comfortable.”

He was right. He didn’t live that far. It was barely past five o’ clock in the morning, the city was still awake, billboards alight. The buildings towered, dark against the predawn blue of the sky. The apartment building was modest and typical of the city. Clean and affordable but just expensive enough to be appealing to a specific demographic of college students and those with decent enough jobs. His apartment was on the third floor and was charming with brick walls and high ceilings. There was a bookshelf packed with vinyl records, even more in milk crates. A record player in pristine condition sat on an end table beside an armchair. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Jungkook said, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the front door. 

“You said you liked records,” you replied, browsing his collection. 

“I did.”

“This isn’t liking records. This is a goddamn treasure trove.” You pushed your hair behind your ear, eager to move it from your face. “Bowie, Billie Holiday, Bob Dylan, Prince. You even have a rare version of Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland. With the naked women! This is incredible.” 

He laughed. “I see you are a woman of taste.” 

“If only my dad could see this. I’m afraid to touch anything.” 

“I’m sure you don’t have clumsy hands with records. Since you have a record store and all.”

You laughed. “I appreciate the trust.”

“So what would you like to listen to?”

You mulled it over, taking your time examining the sleeves of the records. Then you found one.

He smiled when you showed him the cover art. “Perfect.” 

Frank Ocean’s Blond. A modern classic. Perfect for the liminal hour of five AM. 

Jungkook slipped it from its sleeve, fingers on the slim rounded edges of the record. He carefully settled it on the turntable, placed the needle on the disc, and played the album. There was the classic crackle of vinyl, and then the first track emanated. It was a phantasm of sound, rich and ethereal. Light but weighted. The song was the deep blue of the sky before the sun decided to pull itself above the horizon and emblazon the sky with its myriad of colors. It was the perfect song for this liquid moment that felt like a dream. This beautiful stranger standing before you with his incredible collection. 

And then you were in Jungkook’s arms, slowly swaying to the music. You smiled up at him and him down at you. 

The album continued on in the living room, serenading to no one. You and Jungkook had moved to the bedroom, lounging on the bed. The horizon blushed peach, casting the room in half-light. You both lay on your backs, him with an arm slung casually behind his head, you with your hands folded delicately on your stomach. 

“Thank you for paying for my meal today,” you said to him meekly. 

He smiled. “Thank you for the great conversation. And having an amazing taste in music.” 

You laughed. “What made you come sit with me anyway?”

That was when he looked at you, his mouth still slung in a smile, but his eyes sincere. “Because you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks went hot and you giggled nervously, covering it with your hands. He rolled over and carefully removed them, his eyes on yours. For a brief moment, time was still. Your breath caught in your throat. He was so close. His lips were so close. Your noses were just barely brushing. His voice was husky when he said, “I like your laugh.”

And then he kissed you. 

In the living room, Frank Ocean sang about nights and new beginnings. 

In the bedroom, you and Jungkook were breathless. Hands on thighs. Hands in hair. Teeth on collarbones. It was a innocent hunger, one that never got too peckish. He was careful with you, didn’t dare to remove your clothes. “I like you,” he breathed into your neck. You gasped at the sensation. 

You kissed until you both eventually succumbed to sleep, the morning sun pouring drowsy golden light across the room.

It was well into the afternoon when you woke to the sound of a shower running. The room was unfamiliar. Definitely not your barren apartment with the boxes strewn about the place. And you definitely weren’t on your living room mattress tangled amongst its waves of sheets. The bed you were in was the most comfortable you’ve ever experienced. Brick walls, plants, beautiful abstract canvas paintings leaning against the wall. Then you remembered. 

The diner. The vinyl collection. The sunrise. The kiss. 

Jungkook. 

He was in the shower and you were fully dressed and the night had to have been a dream. But it wasn’t. Reality settled back onto your shoulders in agonizing waves. You were hours late opening the store. But oh, you wanted to burrow into these soft, sweet-smelling sheets and dissolve into nothing. Eventually you got up. 

The door to the bathroom was open. You thought about telling him you were leaving, but instead, you drew your name and number into the mirror steam and went home to shower and change yourself.

An entire week went by and he never called. He didn’t return to the diner, either. It hurt. Every time you lay on your side, willing yourself to sleep, the phantom feeling of his hands and lips barreled you at such an unwelcome rush you would gasp. None of it was real. You had to keep telling yourself that. None of it was real. 

Life went back to normal. Jungkook was a fleeting daydream that sifted in and out of your thoughts. The store still barely got any customers, except for the same two or three crate diggers who visited like ghosts. And then Nora, your best friend, breezed through the door. She was a city girl through and through. Large sunglasses, the omnipresent iced coffee, the expensive wardrobe curated specifically for being in front of a camera. She was partly why you moved here. The two of you were from the same hometown, and she had escaped first to chase the tail of a fashion designer career. 

“Move here!” she had said during a phone call. “You’ll love it. You’re super hipster and this city eats that shit up! And you can open up that record and book store you always dreamed of.” 

She wasn’t wrong. You loved this city but this city seemed to not love you back. Now, she pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and set her iced coffee on the counter top before you. You were sitting behind the register, feet up and reading a book when she had come in. You looked up from the paperback in your hands. “And what have I done to deserve your presence, Your Highness?”

“Good morning, dork! We’re going to a party.”

You kicked your feet down. Slipped a bookmark in the book and closed it. And you simply said, “No.”

She blinked, her smile stiff. “Why not?” 

“You know I have to open this place every single morning. I can’t go to a party and get drunk and miss another opening.”

“Stop making this store your entire life.”

“It is my entire life.”

“Well, live another one. Just for one night.” She clasped her hands together and actually pouted. “Please.”

You sighed. “You don’t have anyone else to go with?”

She perked up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I do. I just want you to go with me. I want you to have fun for once. All you’ve done since you been here was work.”

Every single dollar and penny from your savings went to this store. It was your lifelong dream. And Nora—lovely, naïve Nora—had never needed to work for anything a day in her life. She meant well. She was never intentionally ignorant. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

She also didn’t know of your time with Jungkook. It was embarrassing that he never called. It angered you that he called you beautiful and said he liked you only for it all to be false. Thank goodness you didn’t have sex with him. 

“I’ll have fun once I’m a millionaire or something,” you said to Nora.

She huffed. “I can find you someone to cover the shop for the night. You won’t even have to pay them. Please just come with me.”

“No. What if they steal something.”

She stared at you flatly. “Do you really think any of my friends—my friends—would steal? Let alone steal any of this stuff? No offense.” 

“Why do you want me to go so badly?”

“I already said. Fun. You know, music, drinks, guys.” She sang the last word and accompanied it with a little shimmy. 

“I have plenty of music and I can buy my own drinks.”

She slammed her hand against the counter top, startling you. “Stop being fucking difficult and come have some fun with me.”

So, grudgingly, you went. Albeit late because you didn’t trust anyone else to close the shop for you, but you went nonetheless. Nora did your makeup. Just glitter eyeshadow and a little eyeliner because you insisted you didn’t want much. And she picked out your outfit—a black lace bra, a crop top cardigan, and a pair of white shorts. 

“Because I can’t dress myself?” you grumbled, sliding on the clothes. 

“Exactly that. You dress too…hipster-y. You need to be hot for tonight.” 

You hadn’t worn that bra since you dated Namjoon. He was pretentious and arrogant and such a city boy it made you lightheaded. You met when he waltzed into the store shortly after you moved here. He smiled at you and you practically melted. The books were what he came for. He bought a Russian classic novel and at checkout, he discussed with you the allegory of sharing fruit in literature. He was eloquent and intelligent and so damn gorgeous you fell for him in that same moment. He scribbled his number on the receipt and told you to keep it. 

The relationship lasted for four months. He suggested you move into his high rise apartment downtown with him. It was a modern edifice, all glass and steel and money. He was the wealthiest person you had ever met in your life. And, stupidly, you were in love. 

And then you saw his text messages with some unfairly beautiful girl he followed on social media about how good she looked in his bed . He said he was lonely, that you worked too much, what else was he supposed to do? Needless to say, you left him. And you hadn’t seen him since. 

Now, Nora said to you, “And don’t think about wearing those fucking platform boots.”

“Why not?” you said, frowning. “They’re cute.”

“They look ridiculous. Like those boots that one goth girl from that cartoon you like wore.” 

You grinned, mischievous. “That’s exactly why I bought them.”

To Nora’s dismay, you wore the fucking platform boots. 

The party was in an underground venue. It wasn’t all red wine and an elaborate excuse to brag about money, like the gatherings Namjoon liked, it was edgy. A live band played pop punk on a stage, the lights in the place were dim save for the spotlights and the white Christmas lights behind the bar. Greasy pizza and liquor and neon lights. You brushed elbows with someone smoking a joint, and you were pretty sure someone was doing coke in the bathroom. 

Nora pulled you to the bar where she ordered herself a cocktail and you a craft beer. She knew you so well. 

There were so many people here. You mentally kicked yourself for not bringing flyers for your store. 

And then you saw him. Nora was talking your ear off about how hot the frontman for the band was and you almost choked on your beer. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you spat.

Nora blinked rapidly. “What? What happened?”

“This is why you brought me here. You cunt.” You didn’t mean to call her that. It wasn’t a word worn with frequent use in your vocabulary. In fact, you hated the word. But it was deserved in this situation. 

Namjoon. He was standing near the stage with a craft beer of his own in his hand, bobbing his head to the music. He didn’t like places like this. They were tacky to him. He didn’t even listen to this genre of music. What the hell was he doing here? 

The girl standing next to him turned to him and smiled. She was wearing lipstick as red as murder and her bob was so black it reflected the lights with an envious luster. She had a septum piercing, the two silver balls glittering in the low light like two tiny stars. That’s when it clicked. He was here because of her. She was that unfairly beautiful girl in his text messages. Your skin felt incandescent. 

“He had to see how hot you are. I thought you would enjoy shoving that in his face.” Lovely, naïve Nora. You wanted to slap her. 

You stood from the bar stool and set your craft beer on the bar. “I’m leaving now.”

Her face was slack with regret. Before she could form an apology, you turned and walked away. 

You were a few moments from the door when you heard your name. It wasn’t Nora. You stopped and your breath hitched. Your turned slowly, preparing to see Namjoon with that girl by his side but instead—

“Jungkook?”

His hair was black now and almost as shiny as that girl’s bob. It hung past his ears in gentle waves. He stood there in a baggy black shirt and jeans, his thumbs tucked into the front pockets. Silver bracelets draped from both wrists. In this lighting, he looked ethereal. Infernal. This couldn’t be the same man you shared a chimerical morning with. He looked like he had been created by the darkness of the city’s nights. 

Maybe it was just the hair. 

“Hi,” he said in the same way he did when he sat your table at the diner. It could’ve been mistaken as sheepishness, but his eyes were not meek. Besides the hair, you couldn’t figure out what was so different about him. 

Breathlessly, you said, “Hi.”

“You look nice.” 

Over his shoulder, you noticed Namjoon go to the bar. Nora scowled at him. He smiled amicably at her and his mouth moved, saying something. She froze, and her eyes immediately darted to you. Namjoon turned and saw you. And he started your way. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

You should’ve ran out of the venue. There were a million other things you should’ve done, but instead you grabbed Jungkook and kissed him. 

Initially, he went rigid with shock, but he melted into the kiss. You felt him smile against your mouth. “Miss me that much?”

You pulled away. “I did not.” A glance over his shoulder and Namjoon was gone. You audibly exhaled. 

“What happened?” 

You ran a hand over your face. “Ex.”

“Ah,” he said. “Is that why you were leaving?”

“Yes. And now I’m going. Goodbye.” You whirled around, shoulders tense with embarrassment and headed for the stairs. 

“Wait.” He caught up to you on the stairs. “Can I go with?” There were small white string lights strung in the stairwell and the glow reflected in his eyes. They were so brown. 

“Don’t you have friends to be with?” Your phone buzzed in your back pocket with an incoming text message. Most likely your own friend dying to know who the guy you just kissed was. You ignored it. 

“They’ll be fine.” He grinned. 

“Okay,” you said, feeling yourself smile as well.

There was no destination, but you ended up at a park, sitting beside each other on a swing set. Your feet dragged in the wood chips as you pushed yourself back and forth slowly. He looked up at the night sky and sighed. “Do you want to know why I hadn’t called?”

You just looked at him. 

“This may sound like a corny excuse, but… I was afraid of what you would think of me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated before saying, “If we continued seeing each other, you would eventually find out that I’m not a freelance artist. I do paint, but that’s not what I do.”

You could feel your heartbeat gradually speeding its pace. “What do you do?” His eyes fell down to his hands. He turned them over, studying the lines in his palms. His hair slipped over his eyes. He was a portrait of affliction. “I’m a Lost Boy.”

You didn’t understand. He noticed your silence and looked up at you. “The Lost Boys. This city is practically run by them.” He corrected himself, “Ran by us.” He stopped, closed his eyes, and sighed. “I’m in a gang.”

Your voice was a whisper. “What?”  

He quickly added, “If you no longer want to associate with me, I understand. They’re—we’re—dangerous. I mean, even if you haven’t heard of us, you know us. The leather jackets, the vandalism, the fights. That venue is owned by us. The drugs at that event were supplied by us. That band playing is in our pockets. My apartment is paid by dirty money.” He laughed quietly to himself then, almost pityingly. 

The night air around you was thick with your own dread. “Is being around you dangerous?” You hadn’t meant for your voice to sound so small.

“I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking.” You could hear the unsaid “but” in his tone. 

“But what?” you prompted.

He chewed on his lip. A dimple in his left cheek appeared. “I won’t hurt you, but I can’t promise your safety. If you do decide to be around me.”

--

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #kpop #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts jeon jungkook

[cornappreciation]

It's been a while. Episode 40 discussion post below! Spoilers, obviously.

hi! wow! its been a while! sorry about that, brainrot said i have to think about nothing but warrior cats for like six months straight so ive been busy with that. but im back, hopefully? not sure if anyone really recognizes my specifically (or if they ever did), but anyways. since i didnt make an analysis post for the past,,, two (?) episodes, some of my cited evidence will just be "trust me bro" as i dont have notes to look back on, only my own memory. now! episode 40!

this episode was very corn-heavy, so that's gonna be the focal point of this post. ok, time for a quick recap. ive already established in my previous episode analysis / theory posts that corn is almost definitely been *replaced* by xolotl, not possessed or altered. its also likely the beast in the cave near metztli is quetzalcoatl (though this could be a manifestation of xolotl as well), and xolotl is trying to rid of him (this is why im working on the assumption is it quetzalcoatl and not xolotl in the reflections, however this could be some amalgamate of the two "getting rid" of xolotl….. who knows!). im going against my previous theories here! i said in a previous post the shadowy figures were likely xolotl, but im leaning towards corn here in the replacement theory, ill detail why later in this post. he also said at some point in episode 40 that he "got rid of his negative traits" (paraphrasing) which could be a reference ot getting rid of his twin. As for the evidence for replacing rather than possession: mind the difference in hairstyle in his human form, difference in facial markings, and his lack of transformation back into nagual form (likely because it would be markedly different. it could be that xolotls nagual form is reminiscent on corn's dream self with the face covered in hands? yall know what im talking about, ill cite the episode later. but this is unrelated).

All of this happened directly after he failed to shoot the mercy bow. Not sure if the mercy bow or the town is relevant here, but i figured its worth bringing up. This scene in episode 35 is the last we see of regular corn. He has been in human form since this point. He seemed to panic while holding the bow, which could be a mark of his personality in general, *or* something to do with being in metztli, bringing us back to the monster in the cave the citizens of metztli keep at bay with blood. This beast is likely xolotl (although as ive outlined above this could be an incorrect assessment) when the gang first enters the town, and has perhaps "switched places" with corn, leaving quetzalcoatl trapped in xolotl's reflection. This ties back to episode 40 itself, with xolotl (im going to be referring to the impostor as xolotl from now on, its easier for me) requesting that the nurses remove the mirror from his room and give him a wooden spoon rather than a metal one (that could give off his reflection). I'm not sure what this means for corn himself, perhaps xolotl just doesn't want to look at and be reminded of him, or this could be a strategy for getting rid of him? if anyone has any ideas feel free to tell me lol. Not super clear here. Maybe it can be explained by the mythos?

back! to! the! mercy! bow! which isnt really relevant to episode 40. most of this post isnt relevant to episode 40! because i think this episode mostly served to build tension and let us get to know xolotl a little better. but why not give myself a refresher and go back into some of my old stuff? just to get the ball rolling again. ive said in previous posts that i thought the reason the quetzalcoatl and xolotl,,, "thing" happened was because of the mercy bow presumably being destroyed or lost during the eruption of the red tezcatlipoca, since it isnt seen on screen after this happens. im going to tentatively retract this! i dont think its right (though it IS still a possibility….. maybe xolotl was able to take over bc corn disappeared WITH the bow??? but im not sure if the fact he was never able to use the bow disproves this……. hm.) we know *corn* is the proper wielder of it, yes, but i honestly think its more to do with the spooky cave than the bow (something i overlooked previously). its possible the bow being destroyed allowed xolotl to take over? honestly kind of stumped on xolotls method here. its also possible that my replacement theory is totally off mark and theres something im missing!

heres a timeline rq, starting with the gang entering metztli. corn and others enter metztli. they make their way to the temple with the mercy bow. corn attempted to use it, but is scared off by something or otherwise flys away for an unknown reason. this is the last we see on him. he appears only in human form from here on, with his altered facial markings and hairstyle a mark of him being changed. my theory explains this as xolotl pretending to be quetzalcoatl, from some point after corn left the temple and the red eruption. xolotl is likely the creature in the spooky cave the citizens of metztli keep at bay with blood. somehow, xolotl trapped corn in his place (his reflection), while he roams free, pretending to be corn. he avoids reflections of himself (as a shadowy figure is seen on them. This figure is likely corn. Others can see this reflection, as we see a guy at Blackwell drop his spoon after noticing it), and is "maliciously compliant" (uncooperative) with authority. It's likely he purposefully "got rid" of corn, as he says in episode 40 that he got rid of his "negative qualities". spooky! but this episode did not bring a lot of answers. great way to build up tension though! loved the constantly clock ticking as a buildup. cant wait for the next ep :)

apologies if anything ive stated has already been speculated on or confirmed otherwise ! like i said, i havent been active in a while (i even stopped using my main blog, so i dont use tumblr too often), so for all i know i could be the only person left in the no evil fandom on tumblr. feel free to add onto this or correct me or anything ive gotten wrong! ive missed interacting with yall on these theory posts :) might add on more later if i have any revelations.

#No evil #No evil Betsy Lee #Betsy Lee no evil #Corn no evil #Quetzalcoatl no evil #No evil corn #I forgot what tags I used to use AAA #Xolotl no evil #No evil quetzalcoatl

[natakari-tash]

More lies, more projecting..

Anons by their side, wow, doesn't sound familiar at all.

December 2019 has been a long time ago, I've been in the twitter GC when the "confrontation" happened. Been confused by the way it all exploded, I remember that clearly. This group chat has always been and meant to be a safe space, to vent, to discuss fandom things, talk about the show too. When misunderstandings happened they were either cleared up in chat or in messages or just given time to cool off. People clash sooner or later, you can't agree with everyone on everything, nothing wrong about that. No one is, will be nor was blamed for leaving the chat, even less for taking a break from the fandom. Also need to add that all fans are equal regardless the followers or whatever reason someone finds to assign as "qualifying" to be better than others. So, a group chat of fans that are friends, new people added here and there, new friendships made, fallouts happen here and there, friends talk again, life continues.

Except... This was never a problem to these two. Tink and Saz. They saw and seem to still see it the same way (if not worse) as back then. That Min is the problem. Guilty of always speaking condescendingly to other fans according to both, considering Tink an "idiot" which was pulled out of thin air (again, I happened to open the chat on those messages, closed it as I thought it has been cleared up to an extent).

How did Saz reply to my message where I reached out to her?  "I'm sorry you feel that way"

See? No remorse. Claimed she wasn't uncomfortable with the whole gc but uncomfortable and scared of Min. Sell that bs to someone else.

According to Saz, the whole chat was okay with Min's horrible behavior that no one dared to speak about nor put a stop to it which had to be changed. When no one bit her bait she was clearly free to claim we're all horrible people that gang up on others and attack them relentlessly whenever they think differently. She's still saying it. Wow, standing up to hurting people, to lies, to other obvious bs makes you an awful person. Guess I shouldn't report anyone who attacks shippers solely for the ship and not behavior.

How dare friends vent for the past pain some fans inflicted on them and keep it contained in *gasp* a group chat that isn't public and everyone is free to be themselves?! The woooorst.

Okay, back to those memories.. Soon enough Saz was yet again defending Tink, claiming Min didn't stop but supposedly made subposts or sth and even threatened and blackmailed her.

Uh, wtf?? Way to twist words, wow, taking everything someone posts as personal. So healthy...

I've left them alone, so did my friends from chat and outside it. It's always the two that mention us in some way, add a lie etc. They do it in cycles they keep accusing us of.

Turn off that projector already, you two, move on, stop being vengeful spirits, c'monnn.

I'm not sure what happened before and what after, me messaging Saz or her messaging people from the chat she supposedly considered friends like Tink supposedly did too, I am sure that Saz went around trying to pull people with her and stand up to the massive threat that she clearly still sees Min as. I never messaged Tink. None of the people that have been contacted from the chat that have known Min for longer than me and also irl, none have agreed with Saz. What's even worse, Saz fed all that to another friend that I didn't see as being played by her, used this friend at the confrontation. That it indeed took me long to see.

At a point the two admitted that why they joined the chat for over a year, planning to leave it soon, that they regretted thinking it was a good idea, then both acted like that didn't happen- never said that, that no one saw that. Suuuure.

Hey, people have memory not just eyes. Your bs is not any less bs, Tink, Saz. Think we'll just ignore what we know know and ignore your maskless faces? Nah. Nice try.

Filp and flop, bitter then not and not then bitter again, contradicting selves again and again, taking every swing our way as an opportunity to add to it...

Like I mentioned already, it's cyclic. Feeling attacked so they let it out, then silence from them about it, bam, silence, more lies, silence, more slander, silence, new name for the horrible gc, silence and without doubt there's been bad mouthing in the months I moved on and didn't even remotely think of either of them.

When I expressed doubt to Saz about her words she took it as intimidation tactics, that this is what she gets or daring to disagree with Min and trying to call out Min. Her words. That I'm blind if I can't see the problem with Min, also that I'm bullying her.

Hello? Irony anyone? Self-awareness?? No one's home. Naturally. She's the frigging blind one. When it's more than one person that tells you you're wrong maybe take a step back and consider seeing where you're wrong and work on it. Saz and Tink have been around Min for less than others within the chat if I'm correct. Hell, I didn't know Min for as long as Chriss, Shea, Dot, Hikari, Sam and many others, yet still enough to see how Min is. A person, that like everyone can mess up, fight, apologize,  stand up to inaccuracies, to bs and other things while doing their thing, living their life, having their views...

Saz and Shea talked, anyone that knows anything about Shea knows that she won't just nod to bs and . She knows how people can get, knows how to handle them, had a job like that. She can go from zero to murder cop if necessary. Being Min's partner she looked into the situation and guess what? The whole thing has been taken out of proportions, there was no condescending tone, and also no innocents she said. I'll never forget that. No innocents. No one was innocent. There have been mistakes made my Min, being condescending WASN'T one of them.  

Yes, I've accused Saz of being okay with Yeshim because Drula is all buddy with Yeshim who Saz was (is?) friendly with, true, had to see the reaction. Did I believe that? Nope. That reaction along with the previous messaging told me enough on its own. Wasn't seeing her as a friend when I first messaged her already yet still being open to hear her side but nothing more cause it was clear to me she won't change her mind any soon nor will apologize to everyone she hurt. Her reply showed me she didn't and doesn't care about anyone in the chat but her and Tink.

I'll say it no matter how many times it needs to be said. If one of my friends does sth wrong and I see it I'll most likely contact them, reach out to them, tell them they did sth wrong, do it within a chat as it happens if needed. 

My point? I don't manipulate the people I consider as friends.

And once again.. Not only I'd notice the superiority in tone if there was any, I'd frigging mention it and talk about it. Most likely in DMs.

It looked like a misunderstanding at first, handled poorly, it uncovered a whole mountain of yikes in the end, kept getting worse since then. I think Saz never truly saw anyone in chat as her friends, she wouldn't accuse us that fast and keeping it up so long if she did. Acting like we betrayed her not the other way around.

Now the cult thing, Polol Discord server, Min being the cult leader.. Saz is lying again. Tink too. Notice the pattern?

Min being guilty of sth. Them not able to see what's right infront of their noses. People supposedly fearing Min and afraid to disagree. Min being a mighty fearful cult leader for having certain knowledge & being specialized in their fields. Uh, not happening. Obsessed much?

Ask anyone in the server, I'm waiting.

Stop projecting your issues on people, Saz and Tink. Not anyone's fault around here you feel inferior, feel the need to save people from others, feeling threatened without being threatened, playing victim for who knows how long so far, assigning power and clout where it's not in play at all. Therapy is nothing shameful, moving on is necessary. Please.

#hop off already #life is meant to be lived #move tf on already #tink #saz

[hanjizung]

The mansion. [PAR T I]

✞༒The Mansion.༒✞

[PART I]

SKZ x Reader.

Word count: 2.8k

♡ Warnings ♡: None. (for now...)

A/n: here’s the first part of this new series im so excited to post! all of this is based in a dream i had. hope you enjoy it! ♡

You checked everything in your backpack for the last time before reuniting with the rest of your friends. 

"You have everything?" Chan asked, closing his own backpack and smiling when you nodded at him. 

"Let's get going then, the night is just starting." Minho announced, keys in hand. The rest of the guys followed him, talking among themselves.

Where were you going? Exploring. You've always been a curious soul, always wondering if abandoned places held something hidden to the human eye. That curiosity guided you here, with these guys that you grew very close to in a short time. 

You called yourselves 'urban explorers' and as the name indicated, you visited empty and sometimes scary buildings just because you thought it was fun. At first, you started alone.

But one day, you happened to coincide with them in an old house by a lake. The first impression was… something else. They confused you with a ghost, you confused them with a dangerous gang and that provoked a lot of screaming. But after that death scare, Chan explained who they were. 

They called themselves ‘stray kids.’ And you found it fitting to the hobby that they all did together. At the end, you asked Bang Chan if you could join them, since exploring by yourself had its dangers, and sometimes the loneliness was too much for you to handle. Chan happily accepted, and that's how you ended up here. 

Today you were going to explore a mansion that Minho found by the outsides of the city, it seemed very appealing, especially because Seungmin had gotten a new recording camera and was excited to film the upcoming events. 

Everyone was super excited to visit said mansion. Everyone, except Changbin. 

Frowning, you waited for the guys to walk ahead of you, walking slowly with the shortest of your friends, a smile on your face corresponding to his own when he saw your worried face. 

"Changbin, we've done this a lot of times, there's nothing to worry about, you know? Even Jisung and Jeongin don't feel scared anymore. Besides, we're just going to explore, not summon a demon" you joked, taking his hand with your smaller ones to try and reassure him that everything would go smoothly. 

"I know, Y/N. I kinda had gotten used to it but… I can't help but feel like this one is going to be different" he replied, shrugging. 

You could understand that. Not all the places you visited had the same energy, it was normal to be more scared of one or more excited to visit the others. All of the buildings had their own distinctive aura. 

"I'm sure everything will be okay as long as we stay together" you hugged his arm, walking to Minho's car. You had divided yourself in two teams, one would be going with Chan, and the other with Minho. 

Each team had the same supplies for filming. In your team (by team you really mean who you're in the car with) was Minho, the driver; Jisung, in charge of carrying snacks; Seungmin, the best camera man of the gang, and finally, Changbin and you. He was in charge of the heavy stuff, like extra water bottles and such, meanwhile you were responsible for the team's flashlights, walkie talkies and batteries. 

Of course, Chan assigned you as the most responsible one since you explored by yourself and never got lost or injured, and just like Chan, you were also in charge of carrying bandages, rubbing alcohol and enough materials to clean a bad injury. You also made sure to always remind the guys to carry their bottle of water and portable chargers for your phone just in case that your flashlights died on you and you lost the batteries. 

Better be prepared than sorry, you always said. 

Minho started the engine, telling you that he found out about the mansion because of a story that one of his neighbors told him about an old woman who died there and cursed the mansion decades ago before her death.

You couldn't help but laugh at the story, getting an arched eyebrow from Jisung who told you to 'be skeptical' because as far as you knew, magic could be real and you were disrespecting that old woman's curse by laughing at it. 

Seungmin proceeded to laugh at him and ask him if he ever listened to the things he said, Jisung tried to hit him from the front seat for making fun of him. It was all fun and laugh in the car thanks to Jisung, but next to you a quiet Changbin distracted himself by looking out the window. 

You were worried about him, he was being more serious than usual, so you decided to stick with him the whole time, only to make sure he felt okay with going on with the exploration.

Two hours later, a huge building could be seen from afar, the roof of the old mansion being what made the mansion really stand out from the forest surrounding it. Upon finally seeing the place that you were going to explore, Changbin audibly gulped to your left. Jisung and you left out a surprised wow. Seungmin, who was sitting on your other side, took out his phone to take a photo of it,while Minho smirked, his eyes never parting from the road in front of him as he parked in front of the old place.

Jisung was the first one to leave the car, slamming the door shut gaining an angry shout from Minho, who got out the car after his friend to scold him from closing the door like that, meanwhile you waited for either Changbin or Seungmin to get off the car to finally be able to breathe the clean air and stretch your legs. 

Apparently, Changbin still wasn’t as excited to explore the mansion as your other friends were. You watched the rest of the guys taking their own backpacks and talking from the window after Seungmin left you and Changbin alone.

You closed the door after Seungmin left and looked at Changbin, placing your hand on his shoulder gently to make him look at you instead of the mansion behind you. 

You could tell something was troubling him, but opted to not say anything. Changbin inhaled and exhaled, his eyes closed and then he returned your smile, opening the door next to him and finally getting out of the car. He waited for you to get out too and Minho, waiting on the back of the car, handed you both your backpacks, closing the trunk of his car. 

You reunited with the rest of the guys who were just getting out of the car and took out your phone. Chan shouted for them to come close to him and make the usual check of having everything. 

"Do all of you have your walkie-talkies?" he counted the nodding head with a smile. You had yours on the pocket of your hoodie. It was almost always there. 

You counted the flashlights in your bag and handed them to the guys, they thanked you and waited for Chan's next question. 

"We're going to test the walkie-talkies and then we're gonna choose a number to see who we're going to be paired with" while Chan talked, Felix and Jeongin tested if the walkies worked, but it seemed like they didn't because Felix looked troubled. 

"Chan, the walkies don't work. We only hear static when trying to receive, it's not clear. Are we going to proceed without them?" the rest of the guys looked at Chan, waiting for his answer. He shrugged. 

"it would be better if we had them, but if you say they don't work we'll just leave them in the car. We can scream if something happens or if we find anything interesting" he said. 

"it's kind of scary going without the walkie, though " Hyunjin said, giving his device to Jeongin who took the most he could back to Chan's car. 

"Nothing bad is going to happen if we go without them, Jinnie. Y/N explored alone, with no walkie for months and she's here with us now. If something had happened maybe she would have quitted urbex" Felix pointed. You laughed at him, the boys loved to pull the 'Y/N used to do urbex without us' card when someone chickened out before an exploration. 

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and sighed, taking the container with everyone's name. 

That's how the pairing system worked. Every time different people had to choose who they were going randomly assigned with, but since you joined that system had to be readjusted, so the person whose name wasn't chosen had to pick a number from 1 to 4 and join them, the groups made from playing rock, scissors, paper and the one who lost had to pick first, their companion and them becoming the number one for the next draw. 

The first round of rock, paper scissors began and after a few minutes, Jeongin was the loser. 

Hyunjin picked Jeongin's name and shook the container for Jeongin to pull a name out. He did and unfolded the little paper. 

"It seems like I'm going with… Seungmin" he said, showing the name of the second youngest to everyone. 

The second round began, Hyunjin lost and he picked his companion; Chan. The next pair was Felix and Jisung, and the last pair was Changbin and you. 

"That means Minho has to pick a number to see what team he's going to join" Chan said, mixing the papers with the numbers on his hand and letting Minho choose one. 

He opened the little piece of paper, everyone holding their breath in anticipation of his words. A little smile creeped on his face, his head turning to look at Jisung and Felix who were resting against Chan's car. Apparently, his number had been three. 

"Alright, now that everyone has their companion we're going to explore. But first, do you all agree on filming the whole exploration or just take photos of the place?" Chan asked. You had a little go pro camera, the one you used when you explored alone to check if anything happened or moved and you weren't aware of it. 

Seungmin loved filming things, so he had gotten a better camera that he was very excited to use that day, giving his old one to Jeongin who seemed kind of interested in capturing paranormal things on tape. 

Meanwhile, Jisung had a modern voice recorder but he only used it when he heard noises and wanted to record anything that he thought was suspicious. It was kind of hard for him to catch up on noises that you didn't make, but he was always the first one to hear steps that didn't belong to any of you, asking to the void if anyone was there, his hand extended trying to record any possible answer. 

Chan, unlike you, didn't have his own camera. Instead he had some gadgets he bought to make contact with possible ghosts. 

Because yes, Chan believed in ghosts, and that was the reason he started exploring abandoned places, to try and communicate with spirits from the other side.

Hyunjin did have a camera of his own, but unlike Seungmin's, his only worked with night mode during explorations, that annoyed him because he preferred to see everything like the first time he was in the explored place in person, not all black and green. 

"I'll start filming everything once we get inside like always, so if you guys don't want to film we at least will have my recordings" you said, pointing to the camera resting in your chest. 

"I'm going to film everything for sure, I'm super excited to try this beauty" Seungmin said, holding up his camera with a proud smile making all of you laugh. 

"I'll bring my camera just to film if Chan manages to make contact with some ghost” Hyunjin said, guarding his device in his backpack. 

Jeongin didn't say anything, but since his partner was Seungmin there was no need for him to film anything, so he walked to Felix and gave him his camera to use if they happened to find something exciting. 

"Alright, then I guess we can get inside now. You know how it goes, we go wherever we want to and in this particular case with no direct communication we'll have to scream if anything happens. Jisung, give me the spray can please" Chan made sure to remind you. Everyone listened to him, he had this image of leader and a reputation of always helping you with anything you were struggling with. He was an excellent friend, and an even better leader. 

Jisung stopped looking into his backpack, tossing the oldest a black spray can. Chan caught it and that was when all of you followed him to the enormous front doors of the mansion. 

"It's a beautiful door to be vandalized like this…" you sighed. Chan looked at you with understanding eyes, but that didn't stop him to do what you all knew was coming next. 

In the middle of the wooden doors, Chan's hand hovered, his finger about to press the spray to draw the logo you got so used to seeing when you explored a new place. 

The initials, SKZ were used to mark places that you visited. They first started using it around the abandoned building near the city where you live, some rumors of a new gang were heard here and there, every time you overheard people talking about that mystic gang that didn't do anything except leave their logo you almost wanted to laugh. 

Almost, because the things people said weren't good things, so you always had to resist the urge of snapping at them and explaining what exactly did the logo mean. 

But you never did, because you had insane self control and tried to focus your energy thinking on what your mother could do for dinner, deciding to be hungry the rest of the day instead of angry. 

To your surprise, Chan moved his hand. You heard him sigh, and he walked to the wall on the right side, marking that place instead of the beautiful door. When he was finished he looked at you with one of his beautiful dimpled smiles. 

"She's right, the door was too beautiful to ruin with our logo. Let's get in now, the place is big enough for us to investigate separately" he said, trying to open the doors. 

He grunted, then he pushed both doors with all the strength in his body to be able to finally open them. Bang Chan succeeded and everyone clapped, he moved and allowed everyone else to get inside before him, like the amazing leader he was, always looking out for all of you. 

You stepped inside, turning on your flashlight and looking around, taking in your surroundings. The light coming from your friends and illuminating the place more, giving you the ability to see more clearly in the darkness. 

On your left, Minho and Jisung were looking closely to the framed pictures on the wall. You glanced at the framed photos and paintings, they looked incredibly old and gave you a sense of fright, your back felt cold and something in your head told you to get out of there.

Walking away from Changbin who hadn’t left your side, you pulled the door and tried to open it. But it didn’t. And you started to panic, a nervous laugh leaving your lips, grabbing the attention of the guys who were mesmerized with the gigantic mansion. You stared at all the boys, looking if anyone was missing and blocking the door from outside as a cruel joke. But you couldn’t concentrate and count who was inside and who wasn’t. Much to your panicked state, the guys weren’t saying anything when you tried to pull the door open again, they opted to look at you as if you were crazy.

“Haha, you’re very funny, guys. Who’s blocking the door?” you asked, voice trembling. Hyunjin walked slowly to you, as if to not alarm you even more. He moved your shaky hand from the doorknob and tried to pull the door open himself.

“Y/N, there’s nobody outside. We’re all here, together. Look, here’s Jeongin, Felix, Minho, Seungmin, Jisung, Changbin, Hyunjin, you and me” Chan said, taking your hand when he was close enough to you. You  looked at each of your friends that Chan pointed while saying their names to you and you felt a chill run through your back.

Felix took your hand from Chan’s and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, but you pushed him gently, indicating to him that you didn’t want a hug in that instant. Instead, you turned to look at Chan, squeezing the blond’s hand to let him know you weren’t feeling okay at all.

Chan and Hyunjin tried to open the door together, but after some tries under your anxious gaze, there was no success. Sighing and finally giving up, Chan turned to face all of you who hadn’t moved and said:

“Guys… we’re trapped.”

【ＮＥＸＴ　ＰＡＲＴ】

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fanfic #skz series #stray kids fanfic #stray kids series #self insert #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids x you #One day I'll know how to properly tag #hhhhh yes #part 1

[cutaepatootie]

Now or Never - 07 | FINAL

Pairing: Hoseok | Reader Genre: racer hoseok au / angst / smut  Word Count: 17.2k

A/N: oh wow, this was a long ride *pun intended* Anyways, here it is, the final chapter of this serie. It’s sad to finally write down everything I thought about while listening to Now or Never by Halsey more than a year ago. Seeing everything finished makes me feel sad and I don’t know how to feel about this part, if I like it or not... But I hope you do :) Thanks for being here. Lots of love!

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Pt. 01 | Pt. 02 | Pt. 03 | Pt. 04 | Pt. 05 | Pt. 06 | Pt. 07 final

“Hello?” the male voice says through the other side of the line.

“Hi.”

“Y/N? I thought you had deleted my number?”

“You texted me the other day, remember?” you say, biting your lower lip.

“And you left me on read,” Hoseok sighs. “I thought maybe you needed some space or something.”

“I thought so too,” you whisper.

You lower your head and lean your back on the locker behind you. Hoseok remains silent too.

“Can I see you tonight?” you mumble after a few seconds.

You can hear his doubt even through the phone.

“A… Are you sure you wanna see me? I don’t wanna rush you into anything,” he says.

“I’m sure,” you nod reassuringly.

“Okay, well then… I’m dying to see you too,” he says, and you can imagine him with that radiant smile drawn on his lips.

It only breaks your heart even more.

“I’m at work right now, but my shift ends in fifteen minutes,” you say, looking at the clock that almost marks midnight.

“I’ll be there in ten,” he says, hanging up.

You sigh, putting your phone in your backpack. Bringing your knees to your chest, you hug them tightly. Tonight is your last day at work. To say that you’ll miss it would be a complete lie, but the fact that you won’t work here anymore means more than just stop coming here ever week, or stop getting paid.

Just as he said, in less than ten minutes Hoseok is there, letting you know through text message.

After saying goodbye to your colleagues, you leave the hospital through the staff door. There he is, inside his silver Porsche waiting for you.

Quickly, you walk towards the car looking around you and making sure no one is there watching you, even though you wouldn’t be surprised to find Mark somewhere.

“Hey,” Hoseok says once you get in the car, hesitant. He doesn’t know how to approach you.

You guess you’re the one to blame, since you ignored his texts and called him out of the blue.

“Can we just go for a ride?” is all you say.

He looks at you one more time before igniting the engine and getting out of the parking lot.

You remain silent as you press your forehead to the glass of the passenger window. You watch the streetlights disappear as you pass by, leading to deserted streets and dark alleys. The neon lights adorn the tall buildings of the city and the last buses leave their passengers on their stops. It looks like a completely different world by night.

You don’t know where Hoseok is leading you, you just wanted to escape with him for a few hours, maybe make yourself believe that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t have to betray the only person that has kept loyal to you through these past months.

Finally, the car reaches a more secluded are on the outskirts of the city.

It is a small mountain from where you can see the landscape of the city, all its lights looking like stars in the distance.

Hoseok stops the car and turns off the engine, leaving the radio on as soft music plays on the background. The only lights that enlighten you both are the ones from the panel of the car.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a short silence.

You’ve thought about it all week, about Mark’s words and threats. Your sister was all that mattered to you, or so you thought, because making a decision has been more difficult than you thought it’d be. Sure, you had feelings for Hoseok, but you had never thought that they had reached the point where sacrificing you and Hoseok for your sister would be something you needed to think about more than once.

You’ve thought about telling Hoseok and convincing him to help you, but how would he react when you told him that you were the mysterious new racer of the Black Panthers? His rival. You know he likes you, and that he wants to keep seeing you and is willing to take the risk… But does he feel the same way about you? Does he love you? You don’t know that for sure, you don’t know if he would be willing to risk more than his position in the Blue Eagles for you and your sister, much less after hiding such a secret from him all this time. Plus, if Mark found out he had helped you… Would your sister be safe?

“Hey,” he calls once again when you stay still and don’t say a word. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You shake your head, your eyes still somewhere far from that car.

“Y/N, baby,” he whispers, two of his fingers grabbing your chin softly and turning your head towards him. “Talk to me.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

Can you trust him?

You open your eyes and stare at his. In the darkness of the car you can see their vivid shine, that same shine that dragged you towards him in the first place.

You open your mouth to speak, to tell him the truth… But somehow, you stop yourself.

Who is the man who is sitting in that car with you? You don’t know him. He is Jung Hoseok and he is a racer of the Blue Eagles. Apart from racing, he deals with drugs and does other jobs for his gang. But, has he ever killed somebody? Has he ever had his heart broken? Does he have a family? Dreams? Plans for the future? Does he like coffee in the mornings or is he a tea person? Does he like rainy days or sunny days? Does he prefer the right side or the left side of the bed?

You only know his name and his preferences in sex, that he likes Tinashe and that he enjoys dancing, but further than that, you don’t know him. Can you put your sister’s life in the hands of a stranger just because you’re in love with him? For God’s sake, you’ve only known him for four months.

As you stare into his eyes, you realise you don’t really know who Hoseok is, all the conversations you have had have been light-weighed and banal, you’ve only slept in the same bed once and all you have are some passionate nights and funny moments to remember.

“I’m just stressed for my final exams,” you end up saying, the lump in your throat getting tighter and making you feel as if you are being strangled.

“Oh shit, they were this week,” he growls. “I completely forgot, sorry for not asking you about them.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Did they go well?”

“I don’t know,” you honestly say. “I was a bit distracted and I didn’t study during the weekend.”

“Oh, c’mon, you’re a nerd,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure you had studied everything the month before the exams.”

You smile lightly. How is it that he even makes you smile when you’re feeling like a shit?

“Shut up, I like to take a last review.”

“Sure,” he teases you.

You punch him in the arm playfully and he smiles.

“There’s something else going on in that mind of yours, I can see it.”

Ugh, you hate how he always reads you like an open book.

“You can read minds now?” you joke, trying to change the topic.

“I’ve always been able to, it’s just a secret I wanted to keep,” he says. “But don’t try to distract me, tell me what’s wrong.”

You roll your eyes, but let him grab you from your waist and pull you towards him until you’re sitting on his lap. Slowly, he pushes his seat backwards so you have more space.

You bring a hand to his cheek and caress his soft skin.

“I’ve been wondering… I barely know you,” you whisper softly. “You always read me so well, but when it comes to you… You hide behind that funny-and-cool-guy façade and I can’t see beyond it.”

Hoseok sighs and turns serious. Then, he leans backwards so his back is pressed to the back of his seat.

“What do you wanna know?” he asks after a few seconds.

“I don’t know,” you blurt out. “Everything? A lot of things?”

He smiles softly and lets his hands roam your back, calming you.

“Start with something easy please.”

“Who are you, Hoseok?”

“Oh wow, I asked you to start with something easy,” he jokes before turning serious once again. “What do you mean by that?”

You sigh and get more comfortable on his lap.

“I mean, I barely know you. You have all this faces I’ve seen, but I don’t know which one of them is the real you,” you say as a flash of hurt crosses his features.

“I’ve always shown you the real me.”

“Yeah, but is it the funny and laid-back guy, or the cocky drug seller? Or maybe the mysterious and quiet racer? The calm boy who can sit for hours at a party doing nothing or the energetic boy who loves dancing and gets scared of fair rides?”

He tears his hands from their grip on your back and looks at you sternly.

“I’m all of them.”

You shake your head and bring a hand up to caress one of his cheeks.

“I refuse to think that the same boy who makes love to me all night long and always makes me laugh and comforts me is the same person that deal with drugs and races illegally and do all sorts of other illegal activities.”

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but I’m the same,” he says lifting his hands up in the air.

“I just want to know you better.”

“And you? What about you?” he snaps, changing the topic and directing it to you. “Is the girl that studies at a good university and barely ever attends to frat parties the same that belongs to a gang and hooks up with a criminal?”

“You’re not a criminal.”

“I deal with drugs, race illegally and do all sorts of other illegal activities,” he says, repeating your previous words. “That sounds like a criminal to me.”

You sigh. Because he’s always like this. You take one step forward and he takes two steps back.

“My father abandoned us when I was twelve. I can’t stand my mother and as soon as I reached sixteen I moved from home. Ever since then I’ve been paying my own rent, my studies, I’ve been saving money so when my sister turned sixteen she could come and live with me in another city far from our mother. That’s why I joined the Black Panthers too, because of the money and the freedom they offered me, and when the races finish, I’m planning on moving with my sister – who turned sixteen last week – to another city. One far from here. That’s it, that’s everything you need to know about me,” you say barely breathing in between sentence and sentence.

Besides Lynn, Hoseok is the only person you’ve told about your family and your personal life.

You wait for him to say something, but he just remains there contemplating you with that same blank expression. Not being able to stand the silence, you start talking once again.

“I love history and I would like to be a nice historian, maybe work as an annalist for some cool magazine or newspaper, travel the world and go to every single museum in this planet. I am rather shy and quiet, it takes a long time before I trust someone and even then, I don’t show my true self until I’m a hundred percent sure I can trust them. I am independent and I hate when someone is constantly asking me what I’m doing or how I am. I like silent places and cars. I like racing because it makes me feel the owner of my own life. I hate spicy things and love tea, oh and I always choose the left side of the bed.”

You finish with a deep breath and then look at Hoseok. You can swear you’ve never seen him looking at you with such an intensity. Reality dawns over you when you realise you just told Hoseok everything about you – in a rather summarised way – and suddenly you feel scared.

Why isn’t he saying anything? Did you go too far? He told you he liked you, and that he wanted to keep seeing you, but maybe he just wants sex and you misunderstood him.  

Biting your lower lip and scolding yourself mentally, you start pulling away from Hoseok. Just as he notices you moving, he grabs your hips and forces you to stay in place.

“You’re moving to another city?” he asks.

You scoff and fight against his grip.

“That’s all you have to say after everything I told you?” you spit. “You ask me if I’m moving even after opening myself to you like that?”

With anger running fiercely through your entire body, you grab his wrists and force him to pull away from you.

“Let me go,” you growl.

“Wait, no, Y/N,” he says, fighting against you.

“Let me go Hoseok,” you say through clenched teeth. He’s stronger than you and resists your movements.

“No until you let me speak.”

“You spoke, and said the most stupid thing you could’ve said.”

“So, asking the girl I’m crazy for if she’s going to move is a stupid thing?”

You stop your movements and look at him with wide eyes.

“Are you going to answer my question?” he asks. “Are you going to move to another city?”

Looking at his eyes and nodding is painful, but you do it anyway.

“As soon as the races end?”

“Yeah, my sister will have ended school and I will have graduated. We have nothing else that ties us to this place anymore.”

“Not even the Black Panthers?”

“No.”

“Not even me?” he asks.

You take a moment to think. Of course you would love staying in here and keep seeing Hoseok, but it would lead you nowhere. Your mother would make sure to ruing yours and your sister’s lives, she was an important person in this city and she had contacts. She would make sure you wouldn’t find a job and that you wouldn’t be able to pay for a rent and your sister’s studies, so the both of you would have to return home with the tail between your legs. And you aren’t even sure the thing between you and Hoseok would have a future. Are you willing to sacrifice everything you’ve been fighting for, for a boy you met barely four months ago?

“I just don’t know any other thing that isn’t racing or being part of a gang. My father was part of one, my sister too, and then my cousin. He was the one who introduced me to the Blue Eagles when I was fourteen, and I guess this is all I’ve done ever since then,” he shrugs. “It’s simple as that. This is all I am and all I’ve ever been. I’ve always had a happy life, I love my family and my friends. This is my life and all that I’ve got and I never told you about it because, to be honest, I never thought I would feel the need to.”

He brings you closer to him and you let him do whatever he pleases with you.

“At first it started as something dangerous and thrilling, I didn’t care about you, who you were or your damn gang, but then… I don’t know what this is anymore,” he sighs, running a hand through your hair.

“You aren’t going to leave this even if I ask you to follow me and run away from this shitty city, are you?” you softly ask.

“No,” he sincerely answers.

And that’s all you need to know. He likes you, maybe he even loves you, but he loves his lifestyle even more. You don’t blame him for it. You love him, but you also have things that are more important, like your sister and your future. You don’t want to belong to a gang all your life, you don’t like this lifestyle of running and escaping and hiding.

You stare deeply into his eyes and he stares back deeply into yours.

“What the fuck are we doing then?” you scoff, laughing bitterly.

“Just living the moment,” he answers, grabbing your jaw and connecting his lips with yours.

You follow his lips and tongue, his passionate movements and lewd sounds. It’s all so raw and vivid, but it’s always been like that when it comes to you and Hoseok.

He parts his lips from yours after biting harshly on your lower lip, and he starts tracing kisses down your neck. You move yourself closer to him and grabs the back of his neck, pressing his face ever harder against you.

“We’re gonna get hurt in the end,” you mutter, biting your already sore lower lip to prevent you from moaning.

“Who cares,” he growls, his voice muffled because of your skin. “It was fucking worth it.”

He parts his lips from your skin and looks at you in the eye.

“We’re always talking about getting caught and the others finding out, about us being in danger because of this, but who fucking cares anymore,” he growls again. “I want you and you want me.”

He grips your cheeks tightly, forcing you to stay in place and look at him.

“I fucking want you so much I don’t care about them finding out about us or about us being in danger,” he says with his jaw clenched tight. “When this all ends we’ll remember it and think, ‘fuck, it was so worth it’.”

You gulp down and lean forwards to attach your lips to his once again. He’s right. This was so fucking worth it.

You start grinding on his lap as Hoseok deepens the kiss, grabbing the back of your head and pressing you against him. The radio keeps sounding in the background as the sound of ragged breaths starts filling the car.

You could never have enough of Hoseok. The feeling of his hardening member against your core as you grind on him, the friction between the material of your jeans turning you on even more. His hands grabbing every curve of yours, his slender fingers tracing every millimetre of skin. The way his lips feel against yours. His taste. His smell. His sounds.

Panting from all the kisses, you pull back and grab the hem of his t-shirt. Instead of smirking and teasing you as he usually would, he just lifts his arms and lets you take off his t-shirt. As soon as the piece of fabric is gone and thrown in the back of his car he reattaches his lips to yours fervently.

He pushes you backwards until your back hits the steering-wheel, hitting the claxon and causing a loud noise to fill the place. You don’t even acknowledge it, as you let Hoseok take off your denim jacket.

He wastes no time as he finds the hem of your t-shirt and sneaks his hands inside of them so he can caress the soft skin of your stomach.

You moan, letting your head fall backwards as Hoseok’s lips traces kisses from your lower lip to the junction in between your collarbones. His hands trail up until they find your bra.

He cups both of your breasts with his hands and squeezes them while he keeps ravishing your neck with his kisses. Another moan escapes from your lips when he pulls your bra down and you feel your breasts bouncing a he sets them free.

“Oh God,” you mumble when you feel his hands on your breasts again, caressing them, rounding the nipples in between his index finger and his thumb, squeezing them and seizing them with both his hands.

“You like this, babe?” he asks, his voice muffled as he keeps kissing your collarbones.

“Yeah,” you gasp. “Yeah, I love this.”

“Hmm… I love your tits,” he growls, giving them a particular hard squeeze as if to emphasize his words.

“H… Hoseok,” you moan.

“Fuck.”

With a sharp movement, he takes his hands from under your t-shirt and as soon as you lift your arms, he takes it off. He leaves your bra on, still pulled down a bit so he can see your breasts.

He spanks you when you start grinding on his crotch once again.

“Do you want my cock? Is that why you’re grinding on my lap like a needy slut?”

You nod, biting your lower lip and looking at him through your lashes, your eyes almost closed in the bliss state you’re in.

“Keep grinding on it babe, I want you to come in your pants for me.”

“Ah…” you breathe when he lifts his hips upwards to meet yours. “Keep going, please.”

“You like this?”

“Yeah.”

He grabs your hips and pulls you down on him with strength. You almost see the stars as you feel the damp material of your panties sticking to your core from the collision, his hard cock feeling delicious under your movements.

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna make me cum in my pants too if you keep going at it like this.”

It’s so filthy, you grinding on his cock like that inside his silver Porsche, parked in the middle of nowhere, all lights out except for the panel’s lights, about to cum in your own pants from the movements of Hoseok’s hips underneath yours and his dirty words whispered in your ear.

“I’m about to cum,” you gasp in his ear, holding tight to his neck as he presses your hips against his. “Hoseok, I’m… I’m…”

You don’t have time to finish your sentence, as a wave of pleasure fills your body from head to toe and you clench your teeth to prevent you from screaming. It’s as if all strength was taken away from you and you’re only left with some limp limbs and a fucked out state.

You keep holding onto Hoseok’s neck, feeling as if you could crumble down in any moment from the intensity of your orgasm. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and let him ride out your orgasm, still moving your hips forwards and backwards against his crotch, his cock still painfully hard.

“Fuck, are you okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you laugh, moving your face from the crook of his neck and looking at him. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he simply says, reaching underneath the driver’s seat and pressing a button, pulling the seat backwards until it reaches its limit. “Now kneel in front of me.”

You do as he says, shifting uncomfortable when you feel the wetness of your panties and jeans in the crotch area. Lifting your eyes, you stare and Hoseok and mentally keep that image of him looking just as fucked out as you must look. His hair is sticking out everywhere, his eyes dark with lust, half-closed. Red cheeks, swollen lips, marks of your kisses on his neck, sweat glistening down his bare chest.

“Take my belt and my jeans off.”

You do as he says with sharp movements. His dark boxers have a wet spot just where you can make out the head of his cock.

“You know what to do next,” he smirks, and caresses your cheek before letting you go.

You look into his eyes and an idea pops in your mind. Reaching backwards, you unclasp your bra and let it fall.

“Hey, who said you could take your bra off?” Hoseok quickly reprimands you.

You smirk. “I don’t need a bra for what I’m about to do.”

You run your fingers over his clothed erection before taking his boxers off, Hoseok lifting his hips from his seat so you can slide them down his legs and throw them somewhere in the back of his car along with the rest of your clothes.

“And you’re about to…?” he impatiently says when he sees you making no move towards his cock to take it into your mouth.

You observe it for a moment, standing against his lean stomach.

Grabbing the base of it, you pump a couple of times.

“Babe…” Hoseok warns you.

You smirk internally and move yourself closer to him, both of his legs resting against your sides as your stomach makes contact with the leather material of his seat. You lean closer to him and, with your free hand, grab both of your breasts.

You drag his cock closer to your chest until the soft skin of your breasts is completely surrounding it.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” Hoseok growls as he watches you collect saliva and spit it on the tip of his cock.

You use both of your hands to grab your breasts and keep Hoseok’s cock in between them. You look at him and his fucked out expression and then, you start moving up and down.

“Oh my… I won’t last long like this… Fuck.”

“Well, you better not cum if you want to fuck me afterwards,” you smirk. You usually let him take the lead and you barely speak if not to say thanks or how you’re feeling, but right now, kneeling in front of him, his warm cock in between your breasts as you move them up and down, encourages you to tease him a little bit.

Hoseok glares at you and goes to say something that turns into a growl when you spit on your chest once more, the saliva dripping down your skin and finding the tip of his cock as it appears in between your breasts.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he says, bringing his hands to his hair and pulling from it as he rests his head on the headrest, closing his eyes and trying to focus on not coming so soon. “I can’t stop picturing my cock disappearing in between your pretty tits.”

You smirk and fasten your pace, hearing a loud moan from Hoseok and a wide range of curses.

“Stop, stop,” he says in a rush, coming back down to reality and grabbing your shoulders to stop your movements.

He then grabs your arms and forces you up until your straddling his lap once more. Sticking out his tongue, he places it in between your breasts and lick the skin there clean.

“I can’t cum yet, I need to fuck that pretty cunt of yours.”

You bite your lip and take off your jeans, so only your panties are left.

“They’re fucking soaked,” he growls, helping you take them off.

When the black panties are on his hands, he smirks and suddenly leans forwards to open the small glove box.

“They’ll bring me luck tomorrow, when I’m racing against that fucking racer of yours. They’ll be my lucky charm from now on.”

Your brain completely ignores his words as you watch him keep your ruined panties inside his glove box and closing it afterwards.

“You don’t need any lucky charm,” you scoff. “You’re the Ghost Eagle, the invincible racer.”

“Yeah, but when I beat that son of a bitch’s ass and cross the finish lane I will think about them and how they’re soaked in your juices. Of how hard you came from grinding on me,” he says, placing open-mouthed kisses all over your neck. “Of how good your moans sounded.”

“Ah, yeah?”

“Yeah. And I’ll think about how pretty your face was too.”

“It’s funny hearing this from you, then man with no weakness crumbling down at the thought of some panties in his glove box.”

“One, they’re not just some panties. And two, the man with no weakness does have a weakness.”

“Yeah?” you ask, somehow a small, bright light, switching inside your brain.

“Yeah. You wanna know what it is?”

You nod, biting your lower lip.

“You,” he says, he’s expression turning serious.

Your eyes widen briefly, but you force yourself to hide your commotion and just smirk.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you’re my fucking weakness,” he sighs. His hands start roaming down your naked body, grabbing your hips and lifting them so they’re just hovering above his erection. “You got me crazy.”

He grabs the base of his cock and pumps it a couple of times before sinking your body down on it.

You growl as he doesn’t even warn you and before you can adjust to his size, he starts moving.

“Completely crazy,” he growls again and again, pressing your body to his. “I’d do anything… Ah… I’d do anything for you.”

“If you’d do anything for me, then get out of this shitty city with me.”

He stops for a moment.

“You know I can’t,” he sighs.

“Then it’s not true that you’d do anything for me.”

With a harsh snap of his hips against yours, words disappear completely from your mind and you’re left speechless. You hold onto his neck and hide your face in the crook of his neck as Hoseok starts fucking you wildly.

“Don’t ask that from me,” he pants. “I already told you it’s my life, I can’t just simply disappear.”

You close your eyes, letting the feeling of Hoseok inside you fill your senses completely. You can’t just tell him you’re that son of a bitch whom he is willing to beat their ass. You can’t just ask him to let you win the races. You can’t just ask him to betray his family, the Blue Eagles, for you. He just told you, between them and you he would always choose them. And in a way, you understand him. They’re everything he has, they’re his family, friends and companions.

“Then promise me you will never forget about me,” you whisper.

Hoseok grabs your hair in a ponytail and pulls from it, making you lift your head from the crook of his neck and look at him.

“I promise you baby,” he says, trying to calm his breath.

“Whatever happens, promise me you will still remember me even after this all ends.”

“I could never forget about you.”

He leans forwards, willing to reattach his lips with yours. But you lean backwards a bit, avoiding his lips.

“Whatever happens?” you ask once again.

“Whatever happens.”

You throw yourself at Hoseok and push his shoulders so his back is completely resting on the back of the driver’s seat. You attack his lips with yours in a rush of passionate kisses, swollen lips and wet tongues.

Pulling from the hair at the nape of his neck, you begin moving up and down his length once again. Hoseok lets you move freely, enjoying the feeling of you taking control.

“Touch me, Hobi,” you pant in his ear. “Touch me.”

Hoseok bring his hands to your breasts and starts caressing them. Then, he pushes your back, forcing you to lean closer to him. From that position, with your breasts just aligned with his face, he starts peppering kisses all over them, sucking and licking.

“Ah…” you moan.

You can feel him twitching, and throbbing inside of you with each breath you let out, with each moan and call of his name, and involuntarily you start clenching around him.

“Fuck babe,” he growls, his voice muffled as his lips are still attached to one of your breasts. “Keep doing that.”

He brings one of his hands to your ass and places a hard slap there, his fingers massaging the area afterwards. He spanks it a few times before redirecting his hand towards your core.

You shiver when you feel his finger over your clit, moving at the same pace of your thrusts.

“How could I ever forget this?” he moans.

The feeling of it all is so overwhelming, you’re soon orgasming on top of Hoseok, pulling away and letting his still hard cock fall on top of his left thigh.

Your eyes are completely closed, and your lips parted in bliss, but you hear the lewd sounds of Hoseok licking his fingers clean and then bringing them down to your clit once again to ride out your orgasm.

“Fuck…” you mumble.

“Are you okay, baby?”

You swallow and move away from his fingers once you start feeling overwhelmed by them. Slowly opening your eyes, you find Hoseok looking intently at you.

Nodding, you smile softly.

“Look at the mess you made,” he laughs looking at his thighs and the leather material of his seat. “I’ll have to clean this up before tomorrow’s race.”

You roll your eyes and peck his lips once before kneeling down in between his legs once again.

“Knowing how freaky and kinky you are, you’ll probably leave it there along with my panties.”

Hoseok laughs softly. “I’d love that, but I’d probably be hard half of the race.”

You smirk, grabbing his cock and pumping it slowly. It’s covered in your own juices, so your hand slides up and down easily.

“And you wouldn’t concentrate.”

“Probably not,” he says. “I would be thinking how good I fucked you and how good I would fuck you after the race.”

“Ah, yeah? You would fuck me?” you tease.

He opens his mouth to answer, but you take his length and close your lips around its tip, a gasp escaping from Hoseok’s mouth along with a soft ‘fuck’.

“Yeah,” he pants as you suck him just the way he likes.

Slowly, teasingly, with your tongue tracing the vein that runs across the side of his cock and then stopping at the head of it, paying special attention to the tip of it. Your hand taking care of the part your mouth cannot.

“Move your hand from my cock,” he orders, and you do as he say.

He then grabs your hair into a ponytail with one of his hands and starts moving your head up and down. He repeats the same movement a few times before pushing his cock all the way into your mouth and keeping you there.

“You’re so good to me, how could I ever forget you?”

You close your eyes, ignoring the sting in the back of your throat. The burning sensation mixed with Hoseok’s cries is your own private heaven.

When you feel like you can’t breathe anymore you pat his thigh with your thumb a few times, and he releases the pressure on your head.

You cough a few times once his cock slips from your mouth.

“And what about you?” he asks, starting to pump his length with a fast pace. “Will you forget about me?”

You shake your head no and open your mouth.

“I want to hear you.”

“No, Hobi,” you say.

You know he loves it when you call him Hobi. He tries to act as if he didn’t, but you can see the way his eyes light up each time the nickname leaves your lips.

“That’s it,” he smirks, his eyes focused on how your lips are parted and your tongue stuck out for him. “Now I’m gonna cum in your mouth. Do you want it?”

You nod your head and look at him impatiently. You can see form the corner of your eye his hand starting to move faster and faster, and when some droplets of sweat start falling down his chest you know he’s about to cum.

He’s panting desperately, and just when the first spurs of cum leave the tip of his cock, he averts his eyes to yours and brings one hand to caress your cheeks as you eagerly receive all of him.

He pumps his cock a few more times, milking it completely until he starts coming down from his orgasm.

You close your mouth and swallow it all, opening it afterwards to show it to him.

“That’s it, good girl,” he mumbles, wiping away with his thumb some of his cum that was slipping from the corner of your mouth. “You’re so good to me.”

He grabs you by the waist and places you on his lap. Immediately, he attaches his lips to yours and kisses you passionately.

You don’t think about the next day, or how you’re going to win the race and beat him. You don’t think about the crucial piece of information you just got. You don’t think about the betrayal and the lies. You don’t think about how much you’re going to miss him once this all ends. You just let him kiss your thoughts away in the darkness of his car, in the silence of the night with the city that brought you together and that also tore you apart at your feet.

. . .

Friday comes with the memories of last night in Hoseok’s car. With the memories of his hands all over your body and his kisses all over your skin, his words whispered in your ear and his promises of never forgetting you.

Friday comes with the realisation of everything you’re about to do, of everything you’re about to put an end to.

You say goodbye to all your teachers and classmates. You have passed all your exams, you’re officially done with university.

You clean your apartment and start getting everything you will need into boxes.

You take a shower and dress yourself before going out and picking the bus that will bring you to the industrial area.

As soon as you arrive at the Black Panther’s garage you can sense the thick atmosphere. Everyone is doing their own tasks, minding their own business in silence. You tense immediately. ¿Has Mark told anyone? ¿Do they know? ¿Is Jackson going to punish you and ban you from the two remaining races?

“Y/N!” you hear your voice being called.

You leave your things in your car and then slam the door shut. Fuck. This is it. You’re out and this is all gone. You’ll have to find another way to earn the money and get the fuck out of this city. Or maybe you won’t be able to leave the city at all.

You see Jackson in front of his office, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you sternly.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” you nod, trying to hide the fear that’s paralyzing you right now.

Maybe being forced to stay in this city is one of the best endings. If Jackson knows, then you have no idea of what he’s capable of doing to you. Or maybe it’s best if Jackson knows, because then you’ll future will be in his hands and not in Mark’s.

Before he closes the door of his office you catch a glimpse of Mark staring at the both of you. You try to hold his gaze as Jackson finally closes the door.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, trying to act calm.

Jackson sighs before taking a seat on his chair. The office looks more like a recording studio than the office of a garage, but that makes you feel a little bit more relaxed somehow. You have spent entire afternoons with the rest of the gang members laughing and just chilling. It makes you sad to think that there won’t be afternoons like that anymore.

“Yeah…” Jackson sighs after a small pause. “Yeah.”

You look at him cautiously, your hands trembling at your sides. To prevent you from trembling even more and falling limply onto the floor, you take a seat on the leather sofa next to the wall.

Jackson looks at you and smiles softly at you.

He doesn’t know.

You sigh feeling relieved that you still have time left, but you can’t ignore the pang of guilt you also feel.

“Are you sure? You look worried,” you say. “And the rest of the boys too, well, except Lynn because I spoke to her and she could only think about what she would wear tonight.”

“It doesn’t surprise me,” Jackson laughs.

You smile at him and, when he tears his eyes away from yours, you push the subject a bit.

“Well?”

“I’m just nervous,” he says. “Like, really fucking nervous.”

He’s looking straight at his intertwined hands, bouncing his leg up and down constantly. You’ve never seen him like this, without his tough-leader façade.

“Why? Because of the race?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I didn’t know how to tell you because I didn’t want to pressure you but… I’m nervous as fuck for tonight’s race.”

You blink a couple of times. Pressure… As if Mark’s words weren’t already enough.

“I am, too,” you sigh, opting for being sincere.

“If we don’t win tonight… Then the championship is gone for us. You are our only chance, it’s the closest we’ve been to winning in years.”

“Oh, you’re not pressuring me at all,” you joke.

Jackson laughs softly, but stops when he sees you’re not laughing at all.

“Sorry, I’m sounding like such and egoistic asshole, just worrying about winning the race and all that… But this means more to me than just some victory, a trophy and a bag full of money.”

“It means power,” you nod, understanding.

“No, it’s not that either,” Jackson says shaking his head.

You frown. “What is it, then?”

He hesitates and sighs loudly. “It’s difficult to explain, but I guess it’s time I do.”

You nod encouragingly.

“I need to do this for my sister,” Jackson sighs, as if he just lifted a weight off. “I need to avenge her, I need to make Namjoon pay for what he did to her.”

“Namjoon?” you ask, frowning.

“You know there’s bad blood between me and him,” Jackson explains.

“Yeah.”

“Well, it has not always been like that. We were once close friends… Fuck no, we were brothers.”

He stops for a minute, and you can see it in his eyes, in the way they’re distantly staring at the wall, that he’s remembering those times.

“We grew up together in the same neighbourhood, next door. We drove our mums crazy together, got arrested for the first time together, got into this world together, dream about our futures together, about being the kings of the city… I thought it would always be us against the world, the big RM and Wang,” Jackson stops for a moment again. “Fuck, those were the best years of my life.”

“What happened?” you cautiously ask.

“I gave Namjoon everything I had except one thing, my little sister. When we were kids the three of us always played together and got into trouble together, but I was a kid and thought nothing of their smiles and touches. It was when he turned fifteen when I started noticing the lingering looks and warm smiles… I made him promise me that he would never approach my sister, she was my sister, his best friend’s sister, nothing else. And the bastard looked me in the eye and promised me.”

You can see the hurt in his eyes. Where is his sister now? Is she with Namjoon? Did she choose Namjoon and not her brother?

“Like a fucking fool I believed him. I thought nothing when he started telling me that he couldn’t meet that night, or that he had other things to do. I thought nothing when my sister told me she wouldn’t come home for the night, that she would stay at her friend’s. Behind my back he was fucking her… For nearly five years… But I found out. I was supposed to be at the garage, working my ass off so we could finally open that recording studio we had always dreamt about, but they gave me the day off and returned home early, only to find him in my sister’s bedroom with her in his arms.”

Jackson clenches his jaw and his hands become tight fists.

“I punched him, again and again and I swear to God I would have killed him had it not been for my sister that got in between us. Sometimes I dream about that night and I dream about killing him. I wish I had killed him.”

You flinch when he slams his fist on the wooden table and screams.

“In the end she chose him, and he chose her. She went to live with him to some shitty apartment, with a shitty income in a shitty neighbourhood even worst than the one we grew up in. She deserved better… Fuck Y/N, she was so beautiful, in every way. She was like a fucking star, illuminating wherever she went. Everyone loved her, with her smiles and laughs, and she didn’t even realise. She could have had everything and she… She chose him, a no one that had nothing to offer, with nowhere to honk out.”

What could Hoseok offer to you if you stayed here? Or what could he offer to you if he went away with you? If you choose to trust your heart and not your mind and you choose not to betray him tonight, what could he offer to you? And what could he offer to your sister? To her future? If you stay here you won’t find a job at what you want, your mother will make sure of that, and your sister will have the same fate you had. An eternal search of something you’ll never find. What else does he have besides this life full of danger and violence?

“The last time I saw her was at a race,” Jackson continues, snapping you out of your own thoughts. “Namjoon and I used to be part of a gang, with some others like Jinyoung, Jaebum, Yoongi or Jin. When I found out about my sister and him, the group divided and the boys took sides. That night we were racing as rivals for the first time. I still remember it as if it happened yesterday. I remember getting out of my car and seeing them, she was sitting on the bonnet of Namjoon’s car, him in between her legs with his hands on her cheeks. They were laughing, kissing each other in between jokes. I remember thinking that I had never seen my sister looking so happy. I remember thinking that maybe I should let my pride aside and let them be. I remember Namjoon nudging her side when he saw me looking at them, and her turning around to face me.”

The last time… He hasn’t spoken to her ever since then? Or even seen her?

“They exchanged some words before she decided to hop off the bonnet of the car and hesitantly walk towards me. I remember Namjoon looking at me with a threatening look, as if I would ever hurt my sister… Again. I remember my pride taking the best of me, she was my little sister, my baby, my everything, but seeing her walk towards me like that with Namjoon looking out for her made me realise she was now a grown up woman who didn’t need me anymore, who had someone else to take care of her now. I remember feeling hurt, and angry, and sad, sad above all. So, I turned around and rejected her. I got inside my car and waited for the race to start.”

Your heart clenches at the sadness behind Jackson’s words.

“It was a partner race, they’re forbidden now, but they were huge. In it, your partner had to sit in your lap while you drove, facing you. It was exciting, not gonna lie, even more if you liked the girl, but it was dangerous too. You vision field was reduced, and you couldn’t move as freely as usual so you couldn’t react quickly to any unforeseen thing…” another pause. This time longer than the rest, and you can almost swear he’s on the verge of tears. “It all happened so quickly. My sister got in the car with Namjoon. My partner was a girl I don’t even remember anymore. She sat on my lap and I remember kissing her, telling her that I couldn’t wait for the race to be over so I could… Out of the corner of my eye I could see my sister on Namjoon’s lap, kissing him, reassuring him. Then the race started… And the next thing I remember was seeing Namjoon’s car crashed into a concrete wall and stopping my fucking car, kicking out that girl and running towards the car… Or what was left of it. My sister’s body absorbed the force of the impact, protecting Namjoon from the damage.”

You gulp and clasp a hand over your mouth to prevent you from sobbing. You can feel your eyes burning with tears and you jump put of your seat to place a comforting hand on Jackson’s back.

“Jackson… I’m so sorry… I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Jackson says after a while, straightening up and causing your hand to fall from its place. He rubs his eyes and then looks at you. “No one told you and after all the commotion the accident caused, the prohibition of partner races, I’ve tried to make people forget about it by keeping silent.”

“I’m really sorry, I have a younger sister and if something ever happened to her…” you stop when images of your sister come to your mind.

Maybe this will all hurt, and it will keep hurting in the future, but you must do what’s best for your sister. Now, you’re surer than ever.

Without thinking twice, you hug Jackson and caress his back comfortingly.

You both stay like that, hugging each other and sharing your pain.

“I’m so, so sorry,” you mumble, breaking the hug.

“Now you know why this is more than some races to me, more than a championship and money. I have to live knowing that the son of a bitch who killed my little sister is still out there, living his life to the fullest, going to parties and breathing the air my sister is no longer able to breathe,” Jackson says, clenched teeth as he spits venom and hatred with each word. “At first I thought about killing him, take everything away from him as he did to me. But that would be like a gift to him. I want him to live knowing that he killed her, I want him to remember her every single fucking day of his life. I will take everything away from him, yes, but I’ll be slow and painful.”

“You want to take the place of his gang as the leaders of the races, and therefore, the leaders of this city.”

“Our clients, the ones we sell… Our goods to, are important ones. They have high positions in the elite of this city, they’re powerful and they want their suppliers to be equally as powerful. Winning the races means you’re the king of the streets, the most powerful. If I take that away from him, I’ll take all his clients, all his money, all his power… He will be that poor boy who was a no one again.”

“If I win tonight’s race, I’ll still be able to win the championship. If I lose, J Hope will have too many points for me to catch him.”

“Exactly,” Jackson sighs. “I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, I just want to tell you that this is a team work and we’ll all be supporting you. I believe in you, I know you can do it.”

You look at the ground, your mind racing faster than you’ll car will race tonight.

“You have potential,” Jackson continues. “We all believe in you.”

You already made a decision. Why is it so hard for you to nod and tell Jackson that you’ll do it, that you won’t fail him or the Blue Eagles?

“I’ll do it for our sisters,” you nod decisively.

. . .

Your hands are sweating inside your gloves, and your heart his beating wildly inside your chest. You feel like you’re gonna throw up at any minute.

You got into this because you wanted to feel free, feel as if – for once in your life – you held the reins of your life, of your decisions and the consequences. But now you are where this all started, inside your black Mitsubishi, feeling the weight of all that was going to happen that night over your shoulders, suffocating you.

You look at the girl who is standing in front of the cars, the megaphone in her hands as she shouts something you don’t give a fuck about. You guess it’s the same thing she always says.

You avoid looking at your left, where the silver Porsche is parked, the man you love and you’re about to betray inside.

You wonder if he’s thinking about you, if he’s imagining everything he would do to you after the race, and you close your eyes, because you want to imagine that too.

You want to picture yourself at the party an hour after the race, sitting in your booth with your drink in your hand, pretending you’re bored and that you don’t notice the stares Hoseok’s sending your way, making him impatient and angry. You imagine yourself texting him, smirking as you write each word carefully, teasing him because she’s watching you and he knows you’re texting him. You imagine yourself telling goodbye to Lynn and the rest and sneaking out of the party. You imagine yourself waiting for Hoseok outside as you gaze at the stars. You imagine his hands roaming all over you in the car, on your way to your apartment. You imagine the feeling of his lips as he kisses you and pushes you against the wall of the elevator. You imagine his delicious caresses and how impatient he is while you open the door to your small apartment. You imagine…

You open your eyes and come back to reality.

Imagining is not going to get you out of this. It isn’t going to help you.

But you can’t help it. You keep imagining, thinking about the what ifs. All the after parties you will never sneak out of. Of all the kisses and caresses and impatient spanks as you open the door to your apartment that you will never have.

Your body is on autopilot and you don’t even know the race has started and that you’re driving now, pressing the gas pedal with force.

Hoseok is ahead of you, as usual since his car is lighter and accelerates faster.

Looking through the rear mirror of your car, you can see Jungkook’s and Jinyoung’s cars starting to disappear into the distance, just Hoseok and you at the front of the race. When did the race start? For how long have you been driving on autopilot?

You position your car directly behind Hoseok’s, picking up his speed.

You can see him looking at you through the rear mirror of his own car. You would be smirking by now, but your lips are forming a straight line and a frown has appeared in between your brows.

Slowly, your car starts coming closer and closer to Hoseok’s, but as he sees what you’re doing, he press the brakes softly and the rectangular red light on the back of his car lights on, making you step on the brakes too.

You click your tongue and try to approach him in a different way,

There’s a curve not far from where you’re now, you’ll wait until then,

Yeah, you’re my fucking weakness.

You got me crazy.

You shift gears, reducing so the engine of your car contains its own strength.

We still don’t know J Hope’s weakness.

The man with no weakness does have a weakness.

Yeah?

Yeah. You wanna know what is it?

You.

You start seeing the curve. Hoseok must be happy because he has escaped a bit from you.

You wait, the curve is getting closer. You have to do it now.

Taking advantage of the straight path ahead of you, you let go of the steering wheel and quickly grab the pitch-black helmet with both hands.

They’re trembling as you unclasp the security bar of the helmet. They’re sweating as you pull from the helmet, taking it off and placing it on the passenger seat.

It feels different, driving without your helmet on. You feel naked, exposed.

Quickly, you grab the steering wheel just in time, and just as quickly you step on the gas pedal until the sound of the engine is so loud you can’t stand it anymore.

When you look upwards, your car has caught Hoseok’s and you’re both side by side. While your car was slowing down because you were saving your engine’s power, Hoseok had maintained it and it lost strength.

The curve arrives and you grab tightly the steering wheel. This is it.

You shift gears and let your car relax a bit as you take the curve, the power of the engine still accelerating your car’s speed.

Taking a deep breath, you roll down the tinted window of your car and close your eyes. This is it.

You’re my fucking weakness.

You open your eyes and turn your head a bit, looking at the silver Porsche. Hoseok is focused on taking the curve, his cheeks getting fuller like every time he’s concentrated on something.

He feels a pair of eyes and he looks to the side, to the fucking asshole who is threatening to take the victory away from him.

Instead of seeing some tinted window and some black helmet, he sees…

He sees you.

It’s brief, but you can see it, the astonished look on his face. The fucking confusion in those dark eyes of his.

You turn your face around quickly, focusing your eyes on the road once again. You must return your attention to the race, and that’s why you must look away from Hoseok, not just because you can’t stand seeing the betrayal on his face.

Pressing your foot on the gas pedal you take the curve from the inside, your car easily passing the silver Porsche. You roll the window up once again when the curve ends, and you continue pressing on the gas pedal as if your life depended on it. You don’t want to look to your side, in case you find him still looking at you.

Finally, you give in and out of pure curiosity you look at the rearview.

Nothing.

You then look at the side mirror. In the distance, you see two dots of light. Is it Hoseok? Is he okay?

You shake your head, forcing yourself to continue. This what you wanted, now you can’t back away.

Time flies as you continue pressing on the gas pedal and keeping the steering wheel straight. You unconsciously look to the side mirror every now and then, hoping to see two lights, or some silver reflect. But you don’t, instead all you see is the empty road behind you and the streetlights at both sides.

Your eyes find the finish line after a couple of seconds.

There, a mass of people dressed in black, vibrant blue, red and all sorts of colours are waiting for you.

As you cross the finish line, you let out all the air you didn’t even know you had been holding. You hear screams and cheers coming from the outside of your car, but you stay inside, silent and unmoving.

Your hands still gripping the steering wheel, the engine still on. The lights of the panel of your car remind you of the night before. Of how tight Hoseok was holding you against him.

The screams become more vivid and invade the inside of your car when the driver’s door opens and someone barges in to hug you.

“You did it!” you hear the voice of Jackson against your ear as he hugs you tightly.

“Yeah,” you mumble, a fake laugh escaping your lips.

You try to smile and look happy when he break the hug and looks at you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he sincerely says.

You nod with your head before unbuckling your belt and turning the engine off, keeping the car keys on the back of your jeans.

Just then, another car crosses the finish line. It’s Jungkook, followed closely by Jinyoung. But no sign of the silver Porsche.

Your eyes keep scanning the finish line as car after car crosses it. Hoseok is still nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, your gang mates hug you, kiss you, pick you up and turn you around. Lynn jumps excitedly as she hugs you. She screams your name and Jackson follows her, and soon others are screaming your name too.

You catch a glance of Mark blending in with the rest of the Black Panthers. He’s celebrating, just like the rest, but when his eyes meet yours, he turns serious and just nods.

Your attention turns back to the finish line when you hear the loud roar of a engine.

The silver Porsche appears and the crowd parts to give him space to park. But, instead of parking, it flashes its headlights at the crowd.

The Black Panthers are still celebrating, but you’re too focused on the silver car and its driver to care.

The crowd takes some steps back once again and then, the silver Porsche accelerates and disappears in the distance.

For a minute, the crowd stays silent, but then, your name is shouted once again and they keep celebrating.

They don’t notice how your eyes still linger on the place where the silver car disappeared. They don’t notice the frown on your face or the longing in your eyes. They don’t notice how you’re desperately trying to get rid of their hands touching you to lift you up, or their arms surrounding you in a hug. They don’t notice how your heart is breaking right in front of them. They don’t notice how you bite your lower lip to not scream in agony.

You must face the consequences of your act, and they don’t notice any of that because you hide it all behind a cold façade – your old-time friend.

Hoseok could have been a big ‘now or never’ shouted in the air at the top of your lungs. He could have been a lot of things, but he’s not any of them anymore. And, ever since he can’t be a ‘now’, maybe he will be a ‘never’.

. . .

After the race, you don’t feel in the mood for partying, but you know that if you go to your apartment you won’t be able to do anything but think, and that’s the last thing you need right now.

Instead of acting like a mature persona and facing the consequences of your acts and the choices you made, you choose to drink in hopes of forgetting about everything even if it’s just for tonight.

And drink you do. Glass after glass.

Nobody finds it weird that you’re drinking as if there was no tomorrow, too focused on drinking all the alcohol in the room themselves.

Shot after shot your throat burns and shot after shot your mind stops thinking about him.

The Black Panthers are celebrating. You’re at the top of the chart, ten points ahead of the unbeatable J Hope. Even if you finished the final race in second place, you would win.

Jackson is already drunk, mumbling uncoherent things to a girl that is attached to his neck. Jaebum, Yugyeom, Youngjae and Bambam are dancing on the dancefloor. Mark is nowhere to be seen. And, unsurprisingly to you even in your drunken state, Lynn and Jinyoung are making out on a couch.

Then, there is you, sitting on an armchair by your own, drinking and laughing on your own. You’re starting to see double.

Trying to focus your gaze properly and get rid of the blurry lines, you stare at the booth in which the Blue Eagles are.

The atmosphere in it has nothing to do with the usually cheerful and celebratory one. Namjoon is sitting, his gaze lost inside his glass of liquor – and you wonder if he’s thinking about her, if he ever thinks about her anymore. Taehyung is talking to some girls, but he doesn’t look as playful and in the mood as he usually is. Jungkook and Jimin are talking, a conversation that seems to serious for a party. Yoongi is on his phone as he usually is, and Jin is laughing with some girls, though you can’t see his smiles reaching his eyes.

Your eyes search across the booth again, in search of Hoseok, but he isn’t there.

You wonder where he is. If he’s home, or if he’s on that mountain he brought you to just yesterday. You wonder if he’s thinking about you, if he hates you, if he’s mad at you… He probably does, and he probably is.

Sighing, you fill you cup once again and gulp it down in one go.

If you could just force your mind to stop thinking about certain things, you would be carrying on, knowing you did the right thing… At least for your sister.

It isn’t until fifteen minutes later, that your feet drag you to the bar of the old industrial unit. You touch the sticky counter with your fingers, not caring about the strange looks the people are throwing at you. Some congratulate you – now everyone knows you’re the mysterious new racer of the Black Panthers – some others just look at you, and others send you a look of disgust.

This is were you were drinking your thoughts again – you have a weird habit of doing that – after he beat you in the second race of the season. You still remember his words and his voice.

You look pissed, None-Of-Your-Business.

And you were.

You close your eyes, wishing he would appear from behind you and tease you like he used to do. You would pretend you hated it once again and act all rude and closed-off, when you were really willing to answer him with a smile and shiny eyes.

When you open your eyes, a figure exiting the door of the male’s bathroom catches your attention, the vibrant blue bomber shining like lighthouse for you.

You follow the figure with your eyes until it exists the industrial unit.

You immediately take your hands off of the sticky counter of the bar and run towards the door where the shadow disappeared.

Was it…? No, it couldn’t be.

But you wanted to find it out for yourself.

Outside, you welcomed the fresh air with open arms. It was like the sound of an alarm clock to your drunken system.

You had to blink a couple of times to recognise where you were, before stumbling towards the back of the industrial unit.

Once you arrive, you see the place deserted, and you feel a pang of disappointment in your chest. The sky is clear tonight, and the moon lights the place, bathing with its milky light.

You squint your eyes through the place, and just when you’re about to give up and go back to the party, you find a slumped figure on top of one of the metallic containers.

Back pressed against the back of the industrial unit, legs pressed against his chest, head leant backwards, there he is. Hoseok is contemplating the sky just like you had been contemplating it the night you two ran away from the city, even if it was just for a weekend, even if it was just because you had to escape from the police.

You stay there, paralyzed, thinking about just running away and acting as if you didn´t see him. But that would just be another act of immaturity to add to the thousand you committed tonight. So, instead of chickening out like you want to do, you take a deep breath of air and try to act as if you weren’t drunk.

“Hoseok,” you call.

The boy immediately snaps his eyes at you. It takes him a couple of seconds to recognise you, but once he does, he hops off the metallic container and starts walking towards you.

Or so you think, because once he reaches you, he just continues walking by, not even sparing you a glance.

“Hoseok!” you call once again, running after him and grabbing his arm once you reach him.

He shakes your hand off of him and ignores you.

“Hoseok, please! I just wanna talk to you!”

“So you can keep lying to me? No, thanks,” he says, not even once stopping to look at you.

Maybe it is because you’re drunk, because otherwise you would never cause a scene in front of everyone, but you run towards him until you stop right in front of him.

“Hoseok!”

Quickly, he avoids you and keeps walking towards the entrance of the industrial unit.

You don’t give up and follow him.

“What do I need to do for you to talk to me?”

“Disappear,” he spits.

“No, please, listen to me,” you insist, once again running until your in front of him, your hands on his chest to stop him from further walking. “I need to explain it to you.”

“Back off.”

You flinch at the venom laced in his voice, but still, you don’t give up, not even when he grabs your wrists with his hands and tries to push them away from him.

“Back. Off,” he repeats through clenched teeth.

“No.”

“I said back off!” he shouts, grabbing your wrists harder and pushing you away from him with strength.

“And I said listen to me!” you raise your voice so it tops Hoseok’s, catching the attention of some people who got out of the industrial unit to get some fresh air.

Hoseok stops for a moment and he analyses you, eyeing you up and down.

“Are you drunk?” he whispers, scrunching his nose as if he was disgusted by you.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter right now.”

“That doesn’t matter?!” he asks, raising his voice once again. “Of course if fucking matters. I won’t have this conversation with you, much less if you’re drunk.”

“I’m good now,” you say, taking a step back and waving your hands in the air as if showing him you are completely capable of maintaining a conversation. “See?”

“Well, maybe you want to talk, then,” he says, completely ignoring you and your stupid movements. “But I don’t.”

And with that, he turns around once again and starts walking away from you. Once again. He has walked away from you too many times, and they were all your fault. You’re not letting him go this time.

“I am in love with you!” you shout, making Hoseok stop dead in his tracks.

You are gasping for air as if you had just been running a marathon.

When you see Hoseok doesn’t make a move, you stay there, shyly repeating those same six words.

“I am in love with you,” you whisper, so lowly you’re sure he hasn’t heard you.

You observe his back as it tenses and relaxes, his fists as they clench and unclench, and you wait, for him to turn around and tell you he loves you back, or to continue walking as if you never said anything in the first place.

But he turns around and takes some steps towards you.

“You’re just saying that because you’re drunk,” he scowls angrily.

And despite his steady voice and firm words, you can see his eyes searching for some clue in yours. A clue that tells him you’re lying. A clue that tells him you’re telling the truth.

“I am in love with you,” you repeat for the third time, now looking him in the eye.

“You’re saying that just so you can keep playing with me.”

“Does it look like I’m playing with you, Hoseok?” you ask, taking some steps towards him.

“Well, it didn’t look like you were playing with me all these past months either,” he says, lifting his arms in the air. “And look where we are now.”

“I can explain…” you plead.

“Explain what? How funny it was to laugh at me?” he asks, bitterness laced in his words.

“I never laughed at you.”

“Just tell me something… Was it all planned? To get me to sleep with you just so you could learn my strengths and my weakness and use them against me? Was it all planned when you invited me to your apartment that first night? Or the second? Or the third?”

“No,” is the only thing you can whisper.

“What?” he says, asking you to say it more clearly.

“No,” you repeat. “It was never planned.”

“Why can’t you look me in the eye as you say so, then?” he asks, and you lift your gaze, not even realising you had been staring at the ground. “You can save it. The I love you. I already caught you in your sick little game, you don’t need to play pretend anymore. Congratulations, you got what you wanted, you’ll be the best racer in the city.”

“I don’t wanna be the best racer in this fucking city, or in any other city for that matter,” you angrily say. “I invited you to my apartment because I fucking wanted to. The first time and the second one and all the other times. At first, I only saw you as a forbidden attraction and that was what made me want you I’m not gonna lie, but things started to get more and more difficult and I…”

You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words to say.

“Why would I tell you that it was wrong and that we would get caught all those times, then? Why would I tell you to stop if I only wanted to take advantage of you? How would you explain that night when I told you we should stop seeing each other?”

“Another piece of your game.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “There was never a game to begin with!”

“I saw you Y/N,” he says, approaching you dangerously until his chest is nearly touching yours. “I saw you in your car, with your helmet off… Looking at me as if you had been waiting for that moment for years. That stare… Each time I told you about that mysterious new racer of the Black Panthers and how badly I wanted to beat him… You were laughing on the inside, weren’t you? At least I hope you had fun.”

“It was never like that! If you’d just let me explain!” you say, getting frustrated.

“Couldn’t you have explained me last night?!” he says. “While you were in my car, telling me all those things… I even thought that maybe you were right, that I deserve a better life, one better than this. I even thought about leaving everything behind and starting from zero with you.”

“I thought it’d be better if I just disappeared and you never heard of this,” you say, trying to calm yourself and lower your voice to stop you both from catching everyone’s attention. In the end, all everyone around you is seeing is just a Blue Eagle arguing with a Black Panther, and not a simple Black Panther, their new racer and therefore, the Ghost Eagle’s enemy. “That way you would have never thought this way about me.”

“Well, congratulations, you got exactly that.”

You click your tongue, but as you start hearing voices coming from the industrial unit, you know you don’t have much time to explain yourself.

“I wasn’t planning on winning, or even telling you, I would just move out of the city with my sister and it’d be over, you would maybe think about me for a couple of moths but then you’d end up forgetting about me, but Mark came to my apartment last Sunday when you dropped me off and he saw us. He threatened to tell Jackson about it and hurt my sister if I didn’t win tonight’s race and the championship.” you say, rushing your words as the noise and voices start getting louder. You’ve attracted too much attention. “The only easy way of winning you was using your weakness against you, and you told me that weakness was –“

“What’s going on here?” a deep voice says from behind you, startling you.

Hoseok backs away from you as if your presence burnt him, but as he does so, his eyes never leave you. The deep frown between his brows and the way his lips form a thin line, makes your heart beat erratically.

“Please…” you mouth to him. “You have to believe me.”

“I said what’s going on here?” the voice repeats, and when you move away, you see Namjoon approaching followed by the rest of the Blue Eagles.

Their vibrant blue bomber jackets make their way through the crowd who was “discreetly” staring at you.

“N… Nothing,” you stutter, looking to the floor awkwardly.

Hoseok is still speechless, staring at you and a huge battle exploding inside his mind.

“Are you sure? Hoseok?” Namjoon asks once again, this time walking towards Hoseok.

“I can’t believe you fucking did this to me,” another voice chimes in, and this time, the shiver than runs down your spine tells you that Jackson isn’t going to ask what is going on. He already knows.

A pair of hands grabs you from the collar of your t-shirt and pushes you backwards.

You only see a pair of dark, furious eyes.

“How could you?” Jackson spits. “After all I’ve done for you, after all I told you.”

“I… I…” you stutter.

He shakes your body with force, making you stumble backwards. You don’t fall to the ground because the same hands that are pushing you are the ones that keep you in place.

“I’ve let you in my group and accepted you as a sister.”

You don’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’? You’re not sure you’re sorry at all.

“I’ve let you into my own fucking life,” Jackson says through gritted teeth, shaking you once again and causing you to fight against him trying to escape from his grip.

“Let go off her,” Hoseok growls, grabbing Jacksons t-shirt from its back and pushing him away from you.

“And you…” Jackson spits, turning around and quickly pushing Hoseok back. “You piece of shit.”

“Stop this! What the fuck is going on here!” Namjoon shouts, separating both Jackson and Hoseok.

“You didn’t tell him?” Jackson laughs devilishly, looking at Hoseok. “You were keeping it a secret, weren’t you? You and your girl.”

Hoseok remains silent, looking defiantly at Jackson.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Wang?”

“Why don’t you tell him Hoseok?”

“Hoseok?” Namjoon asks, staring at the dark-haired boy.

Hoseok glances briefly at you before taking a deep breath.

“Why don’t you tell him you have been both fucking each other behind our backs?” Jackson asks again once he sees Hoseok is not going to say anything.

Namjoon’s eyes widen and he immediately snaps his eyes at Hoseok, then at you.

“What? Hoseok what is Wang saying?”

Hoseok hesitates, the silence surrounds you both.

“Joon, he’s telling the truth,” Hoseok says, maintaining eye contact with Namjoon.

Namjoon sighs loudly and runs a hand across his hair.

“Fuck… Hobi…” Namjoon scoffs. “What have you done?”

“I’m sorry Joon, fuck, I know I betrayed you and broke our rules… But I couldn’t help it, I...” Hoseok says, stopping before looking at you and then averting his eyes away from you once again.

Namjoon is still running his hands across his hair, his face, not knowing what to do.

Jackson scoffs.

“Of course you’re not going to punish him,” he says bitterly. “You did the same.”

Namjoon snaps at that.

“You don’t bring that up now,” he says, pointing Jackson with his finger, threatening him.

“I can bring that up whenever I fucking want,” Jackson says.

He slowly approaches Namjoon until the latter’s finger is pressed against his chest. More people stars stopping to see what’s going on, surprised to see both leaders of the Blue Eagles and the Black Panthers interacting for the first time in years.

“You better stop before I –“ Namjoon starts.

“You also betrayed me and broke all our rules. How are you going to punish him for following in your footsteps?”

Angrily, Namjoon breaks the small space that remains between them both and grabs the front of his leather jacket.

“Stop. Now,” Namjoon grits his teeth.

Everyone around you his holding their breaths, waiting expectantly for what is going to happen next. The only sounds that surround you are the few voices of the people that are outside and that aren’t focused on you and the muffled music coming from the industrial unit.

“Was it all planned? To do the same thing to me again?” Jackson keeps spitting, teasing Namjoon, pushing him closer to his limit. “Did you use her like you used my sister? Did you send him to fuck her just so you could see me suffer again?”

Namjoon growls loudly and slams his fist on Jackson’s nose.

“No!” you shout, launching towards them to try and stop them.

You grab Jackson’s leather jacket in an attempt of pushing him away from Namjoon, but they’re like a storm clashing against the sea, unstoppable, drowning everything and everyone in their way.

They keep shouting things none of you can understand while punches fly, they push each other and keep fighting like two rabid dogs.

Jungkook and Jimin rush to grab Namjoon as you pull from Jackson’s jacket with all your strength, but despite your efforts, he doesn’t move a single inch.

Instead, you stumble backwards and nearly fall onto the ground if it weren’t for the arms of Yugyeom. He looks at you with stern eyes before rushing to help Jinyoung trying to break Jackson away from Namjoon.

“Y/N…” Lynn whispers from behind you.

You look at her and she has tears in her eyes. You can only lower your head and let the guilt fill you.

“I…” she stutters.

You only shake your head and let her hug you.

But your small moment is broken when you hear the screams of Jungkook and Jinyoung.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Get out of my way then!”

“Jinyoung!” Lynn calls him before he can punch Jungkook in the face.

But it’s too late.

And somehow, hell breaks loose and everyone is punching everyone, dragging them to the ground and shouting like crazy.

You can’t help but feel as if you’re the responsible of it all.

“Please, stop!” you say, trying to push Bambam away from Jimin.

When you see all your efforts are in vain, you let go of the boys and look at Mark, who is contemplating everything from afar.

“Are you happy now?” you ask him bitterly. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Blind with rage, you approach him, close your hand into a fist and slam it onto his face with all the strength you have. It is so sudden, that Mark doesn’t see it coming and your fist collides against his nose completely.

It hurts more than you expected, but the pain is so satisfying, you punch him again.

Mark lets out a cry of pain and clasps his hand over his bleeding nose. You pant, massaging your sore knuckles and ready to deliver your second punch. But this time, Mark is waiting for you and he throws you onto the ground.

You fight against him, rolling onto the ground, trying to kneel him on his crotch.

But he’s bigger and stronger, and he clasps his hands around your throat, a devilish glint on his eyes as he sees you gasping for air.

You grab his wrists, trying to scratch him, to break his hold over your neck. Gasping, you watch some droplets of blood run down his chin and land onto your t-shirt.

You scream, trying to find strength with it.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he pants. “This is what you deserve.”

You clench your teeth, your lungs starting to burn and your throat begging you to swallow, to breathe… To do anything. But you can’t.

Somehow, your grip over Mark’s wrists looses and you find yourself looking away from him and looking at your surroundings.

You feel dizzy. All around you are punches, screams, people watching… And yet, all you can do is watch, because you feel as if this is all your fault. When your father ran away from home he caused you great pain, and ever since then, you’ve been doing the same thing to everyone that surrounds you. You know you’ve caused pain to your mother, despite her harsh words towards you and her behaviour, you know he loves you. You know you’ve caused pain to your sister, leaving her on her own with your mother, promising her that it would all be over some day. You’ve caused Hoseok pain, you’ve caused Jackson pain, you’ve caused Lynn pain…

You look up to see Hoseok trying to stop Namjoon from hitting Jackson.

What did you expect after all you did to him? That he would understand and run after you? He told you, this world is everything he has, those boys who are hitting each other are everything he knows. You can’t just appear into his life and tell him to leave all that for you, and much less when you’ve been lying to him all the time.

A part of you understands, that this is how things are supposed to be. That this is how it’s supposed to end. Hoseok belongs to a world that is miles away from yours, despite being in the same city, despite racing together, despite you trying to lie to yourself and convince yourself that you’re a part of this world too. Another part of you is begging you to not understand, to not think, to just feel.

That same part is longing to have Hoseok in between your arms once again, forever. That same part is begging you to stay with him.

But the bigger part, is the part that understands, the part that can’t do to your sister the same thing your father did to you. And that part is now telling you to let go of him, you made him suffer enough, just disappear from your life, he will end up forgetting about you.

Your eyes then land on Jackson and Namjoon, who are still resisting everyone’s attempts at separating them. You remember the story Jackson told you about Namjoon, his little sister and him. As they’re punching each other, screaming at each other after years of pent up tension, you realise they’re just two broken boys still mourning the death of a girl they loved, a girl that will never come back. Regret in their every hit, in their every word, regret of what they did and what they didn’t, a regret that’s eating them up.

This world has no place for that kind of love.

This world has no place for Hoseok and you.

You don’t want to end up as Namjoon and Jackson’s sister. A sad love story that didn’t fit in this world of violence and death, something too beautiful for such a dark place.

You don’t want Hoseok to end up as Jackson and Namjoon. You better have him remembering you with bitterness than crying over something that could have been but wasn’t.

You better have him forgetting about you. That way it will hurt less when you cry over him at night, miles away from him.

But your sister needs you. You can’t let her down like your father did. You have to close this chapter, and start the next. That’s what life’s about.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath of air, you gather what little strength is left in you and you sink your nails into Mark’s skin until you can feel his flesh breaking underneath them. Mark gasps in pain and doubts, enough for you to take advantage of it and roll onto the ground until your hovering above him.

Landing one last punch on Mark’s jaw and crying in pain when you feel the bones of your hand hurting from the impact, you stand up.

“Stop them!” Lynn is crying. “They’re gonna kill each other!”

Namjoon is bleeding from his nose, Jackson’s lip is broken and swollen. Jackson’s hands are over Namjoon’s neck, but he’s not fighting back. He’s just staring at Jackson.

“Don’t you dare,” you growl, feeling Mark moving behind you, and you crash your boot against his ribcage, making him turn around and held the sore area.

“Please!” Lynn repeats.

And then, it is as if times stops. Jinyoung stops hitting Jungkook, Yugyeom lets go of Taehyung. Yoongi and Jin stand up from the ground panting, and Bambam, Youngjae and Jaebum do the same. Jimin sits on the floor.

“You killed her!” the voice of Jackson is heard in the silence that has somehow created itself around the scene. “You took her away from me!”

You all watch as Namjoon does nothing. He doesn’t fight back, he just stares into Jackson’s eyes, tears falling freely down his cheeks.

“You took everything away from me!” Jackson keeps saying. “And now you’re taking her too.”

“Stop this,” Lynn says, lowering her voice.

“Jackson,” Jaebum also says, walking closer to the blonde boy and placing a hand on his shoulder. “He isn’t fighting back.”

“I’ll take everything away from you back…” Jackson says through clenched teeth.

You can see Namjoon starting to gasp for air, his eyelids almost dropping.

“He’s gonna kill him,” Lynn insists.

“Jackson, this is enough,” Jaebum repeats. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

He tightens his hold on Jackson’s shoulders and finally, something clicks in him. Standing up abruptly, he lets go of Namjoon and averts his eyes from the boy gasping for air on the ground.

“What are you all staring at?!” Jackson shouts to the curious crowd. “Go back to minding your own fucking business!”

Immediately, the crowd disperses, leaving you all alone with the silence of the night and the erratic breaths of Namjoon and Jackson.

“This doesn’t end here,” Jackson keeps saying, and then, his eyes find you and you feel them piercing into you. “For you either.”

You swallow, but stay sill as you watch him disappear followed by the rest of the Black Panthers. Lynn stares at you sympathetically as Youngjae and Bambam help Mark on his feet. You shake your head, letting her know you’ll be fine.

When you watch the rest of the Black Panthers disappear, you watch a part of yourself disappearing with them, the chapter half-closed by now.

Somehow, your eyes find Hoseok’s.

They’re still as dark and sharp as the first time you saw them. His equally as dark hair is dishevelled from the fight, and there are a few purple bruises blossoming on his right cheek. The moonlight reflects on his smooth skin, his sharp nose and defined jawline. He still looks as beautiful as the first time you saw him, and you don’t think you’ll ever see someone as beautiful as him.

He looks drained, as if he was tired of this.

Jungkook and Jimin are helping Namjoon on his feet too, and you think this is over, you can’t do anything in here.

After Jackson’s threat, you’re not sure you’re safe, and your sister either. The best you can do now is disappear with your sister and try to forget what happened in this city. Deeply, you know you will never be able to forget it, or forget them, or forget him, but you’ll have to try.

Without looking back once, you leave that industrial area behind and all that comes with it.

. . .

You lie on your bed looking at the ceiling.

You will mis the peace and darkness of your small apartment. You will miss a lot of things, fuck.

But you’re not safe anymore, and tomorrow you’ll pick your sister up and go away from this place. You don’t have the money, and you definitely don’t have a place to go, but you’ll have to figure something out. The most important thing right now is yours and your sister’s safety.

You’re trying to think about the trip, about buying the train tickets since your car is still at the Black Panther garage, about renting an apartment, finding a job and a nice school for your sister. You’re trying to think about anything but him. You really don’t want to remember the hurt in his eyes, and much less the adoration and passion that were in them as you laughed or kissed or just stared at each other. You don’t want to remember that first night you met him at a college party at some abandoned building, how he called you None-Of-Your-Business, how he loved teasing you and how you loved teasing him…

But fuck, it is inevitable to think about all you could have been, all the places you could have visited together, all the things you could have shared. It is inevitable to think you’ll never find someone like him, that you’ll never find someone who’ll make you laugh as he did. It’s inevitable to think about all the what ifs and the could have beens.

All your few clothes are already stuffed in a big bag under your bed, all your belongings in a backpack next to the big bag. You’re already gone, despite still being there.

You’re starting to get sleepy when the sound of loud, rapid bangs on your door fill the entire apartment.

You sit up on your bed, startled, and your heart starts running at the speed of sound.

“Fuck,” you mouth.

This is it. Jackson has come for you. You won’t be able to pick your sister up and run away from the city. Maybe if you call her, you can warn her and tell her to go.

Another round of loud bangs fill your apartment and you tense even more.

You rush to the kitchen and grab a knife. You’re not going to stop them with a fucking knife, but it’s all you have.

“Y/N!” a voice calls your name.

A voice too familiar. A voice that doesn’t belong to Jackson.

A sense of déjà vu fills you and you let the knife fall onto the floor. Your mid reels back to a night, some weeks ago. You’re in the bathroom of the industrial unit, the loud sound of music is muffled by the door. Someone’s banging on it while calling your name and you feel…

“Y/N,” the voice repeats, this time a bit softer, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear him. “It’s me, please open the door.”

You don’t even think about it, you rush to the door and open it, finding Hoseok there, a big bag on his hands. He’s dressed in the same clothes he had worn to the race, his hair still dishevelled and he has bags under his eyes, a worried look on his face and desperation in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you breathe, frowning, your mind still not processing what’s going on.

“We have no time for that now,” he says, rushing into your apartment and closing the door behind him.

“B… But what’s going on?”

He ignores your question and looks around your apartment. He knows it better than his own, so he just walks towards your wardrobe and opens it. Seeing it already empty, he looks at you.

“Where are your things?” he asks.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”

He ignores you once again and starts searching all over your apartment.

“I already packed everything. It is under my bed in two bags,” you say.

Hoseok rushes to your bed and gets the two bags from underneath it.

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” you say, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to look at you.

You’re starting to get nervous, if you aren’t already nervous enough.

Hoseok rushes a hand across his hair and looks at you. The sight of his dark eyes takes away all the air in your lungs.

“Jackson is coming for you,” he says. “I heard them when I went to your garage to try and talk to him.”

“I already knew that,” you frown. “It’s obvious he would go after me after all I did.”

“But he’s coming now,” Hoseok rushes. “And once he has you, he’ll go after your sister, and then after me.”

“W… What?” you stutter. “Now?

“Yeah, you have to go now.”

You grab the bags that he hands you with shaking hands. He then starts pushing you towards the door of your apartment.

“How… How am I gonna find a train ticket now for me and my sister? It’s three AM.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head. “I have my car outside, it has enough gas to run some kilometres.”

“Your car?” you frown, stopping dead on your tracks and making him stop too.

“Yeah, the keys are in the outside pocket of the black bag. Inside you’ll find ten thousand dollars. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I could find in so little time.”

You fight against his hands that are still pushing you towards the door, turning around to face him.

“The keys, the money… What do you mean with all this?”

Hoseok sighs. “Run away. Pick your sister up and move to a place far from here, you’ll be safe if Jackson can’t find you.”

“And you? What about you?”

He shuts his mouth and looks at you, his eyelids dropping a bit.

“No,” you say. “I won’t leave you here. Jackson will kill you.”

“He’ll kill you and your sister if you do that.”

“But I can’t just let him kill you!”

Hoseok grabs you by the shoulders and shake you a bit.

“You have no time, Y/N, Jackson and the rest of the Black Panthers will be here at any moment. Just grab all those bags and go away.”

“But you, what about you? You –“

“Don’t worry about me right now, okay? I’ll be fine. This is my life, remember? I know how to deal with these things.”

You shake your head. “You can’t do this on your own. No one can.”

“Namjoon is with me, I have the Blue Eagles on my side,” he says, trying to calm you. “It’ll all be fine.”

“No,” you shake your head once again. “No, it won’t be fine. Just… Come with me.”

“And leave Namjoon on his own? After all he did for me, I can’t do that. I can’t abandon my family.”

You feel your eyes burning, tears starting to blur your gaze. So, this is it?

“We already spoke about this,” Hoseok says, his voice barely a whisper as his eyes search yours.

“When we spoke about this, your life was not on the line.”

“When we spoke about this, I didn’t know you were the main racer of the Black Panthers.”

“So you would run away with me if you still didn’t know?”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Hoseok shakes his head. “All that matters is your safety.”

“Why? Why do you care after all I’ve done to you?”

The apartment becomes silent for a few more seconds, you staring at Hoseok and him staring at you. Again, flashbacks of another night with him fills your mind. This time, it is a night a lot happier than the bathroom one. It is the first night you invited him to your apartment. You remember him laughing at your choice of drink: milk.  

“I guess I would have done the same if I had been you,” he sighs. “I don’t blame you for anything you did, I know it wasn’t easy. You did it for the people you love. I would have done the same.”

“You believe me, then?”

“I believe in what your eyes told me each time I kissed you,” Hoseok nods, as if reassuring him. “Maybe I should have just listened to you when you told me to stop seeing each other, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation then.”

You shake your head.

“No, don’t blame yourself. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t gotten into a world I didn’t belong to. I thought it was just a game.”

“We wouldn’t have met each other then,” he whispers.

You place a hand on his cheek. It is warm and soft, a touch you know you want to remember.

“We would have,” you smile reassuring him, reassuring you. “This is a small city after all. Maybe we would have met at that party at the abandoned building anyways.”

“I would have seen you there, at the bar rejecting that boy,” Hoseok smiles. “I would have approached you without a doubt.”

You smile and he places his hand on top of yours, already caressing his cheek softly. In the silence of your apartment, your world is crumbling. Outside everything goes on. The moonlight still seeps through the small slits of the blinds, the neon lights of the city as bright as ever. Cars pass. People pass. Time passes. And you stay there in your apartment basking in all that could have been but never will be.

You swallow the few tears that are rolling down your cheeks. This is you, in your most naked form. No cool façade, no emotionless expression, not swallowing back tears anymore.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I’ve known it for some time now, but I was too afraid to tell you… In case you ran away before I could.”

Hoseok clenches his jaw, stopping himself from doing something. What? You’ll never know. Maybe he’s stopping himself from saying those three words back, maybe he’s stopping himself from letting your words sink inside him, maybe he’s stopping himself from letting go of everything and running away with you. Maybe…

Instead of saying anything, Hoseok leans in and captures your lips with his, telling you everything he’ll never be able to tell you with words.

He tastes like salty tears and the night breeze. He tastes like sparkles in your stomach and laughs at the top of your lungs. He tastes like rolled down windows and the speed of sound, he tastes like driving at 200 kph on a cool night. He tastes like everything you ever wanted. Freedom.

They say the best things in life come free to us, unexpectedly and fast. You have to pay attention, for those things go as fast as they came, and once you see them, it is now or never. Take them or leave them. Take the risk or spend all your life thinking about the maybes and the what ifs.

That was Hoseok to you. Something that came fast and unexpected, a now or never shouted in the night sky, something that was brief but intense a beautiful.  

That night, as you drive down the streets of the city in a silver Porsche, the sounds of gunshots become distant as you keep pressing the gas pedal. You scream ‘it is now or never’ at the top of your lungs, windows rolled down and the night air seeping harshly inside the car, playing with your hair.

#hoseok #bts #bts scenarios #kwriterskollection #angstykpopnet #bts imagines #bts fanfic #hoseok scenarios #hoseok imagines #hoseok fanfic #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #bts angst #bts smut #now or never #hoseok racer au #bts racer au #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #jung hoseok #j hope

[nordic-breeze]

I was going through my files and I came over this document I sent to my friend @distant-rain pretty much the same day I realized I had fallen in love with Arthur, after weeks of being in denial or shrugging off my daydreaming of this cowboy as nbd or thought experiments and boy was I confused. 

I knew next to nothing about RDR1 when I wrote this December last year and I didn’t know much about RDR2 post chapter 2 either except for Arthur’s fate, which I had just learned of, and oml was I upset and confused. Though also scaringly accurate about certain things.

Now over six months later, I love this cowboy even more. And I kept true to my word. If anyone wanna read the rambings of a fangirl who had just found her new obsession be my guest.

I was blown away by how massive this game is. The level of detail is incredible and I greatly appreciate the effort put into creating this world. Yeah, we’ve all heard about the horse testicles shrinking in cold weather but it’s not like it’s just one bizarre detail being essentially a dick joke in an otherwise average game. No, RDR2 is detailed enough that it actually makes sense to add in peculiarities like that. The amount of wildlife alone, I mean, ever since the PS2 era I’ve been used to seeing animals in games but R* created whole-ass ecosystems in RDR2, several of’em, from snowy mountains to marshlands, with animals that act so much like actual animals. Just listening to the birds singing, it’s like being out in an actual forest!

Characterization is another thing that amazed me, in particular the protagonist. I knew nothing about the first RDR when started playing RDR2, nor did I know anything about RDR in general other than it was western-themed and made by the GTA-guys. I expected somewhat of a similar characterization as GTA where every character is a stereotype or a caricature. I genuinely liked GTAV’s story for what it was and even though every character was more or less an asshole, some of them were also weirdly likeable and even earned my sympathy (and hint of affection) occasionally.

But it never really went deeper than that nor was it particularly long-lasting (still way more than I expected tho). I bonded with one of the characters more than I thought I would but not nearly as much as I would had the characters felt more like actual humans and not like the epitome of stereotypes. But it is what R* wanted and it worked. I expected the RDR2 characters to be the same but to my surprise the characters, especially Arthur, are fleshed out, complex, even relatable (depending on your actions I guess). Unlike GTAV, they act and react like actual human beings. Well, human beings that have lived their entire life (more or less) as outlaws. In a country and time period foreign to me. But still they felt human. Ofc I’ve not gotten to know any of the NPC’s as well as Arthur but from various missions and eavesdropping on their conversation I’ve gotten to know them a bit. Hosea is my favorite. He seems like a good man despite being an outlaw and I love how everyone goes to him for advice and how supportive he is. I also wish more people (esp a certain Dutch man) could listen to him more. I also really like Charles. He definitely got morals and could be a good influence on Arthur and the others. I haven’t seen much of Sadie yet, but think I’ll like her too. Lenny seems nice. That one scene when he and Arthur went out drinking together was absolutely brilliant! And lil Jack’s adorable ofc. Only one I don’t like is Micha or Miach or whathisname. I know no one in the van der Linde gang are saints but that guy is a total psychopath. I kinda wish Arthur had gotten his way there when he said they should just leave him in jail as he was nothing but trouble and it annoys me how Dutch is sticking up for him. Yeah, speaking of, not too fond of Dutch or that German guy either atm.

But all in all very impressed by the large open world, the level of details to well, everything and the characterization. Soundtrack is great, graphics are stunning, animations smooth, the horse-riding simulation is just extraordinary and you never know what’s gonna happen as you ride through the map. The amount and variety of random events and encounters are truly impressive. Often comical, like that wildlife photographer who keeps getting almost eaten up by the wildlife he’s trying to document, sometimes eerie like the serial killer side story, or sad like when Arthur met with his former love. Or a combination of said elements like the pig farmers I ran into. With no pigs. But were still veeery well fed. You know, when people are just a liiitle bit too friendly? That eerie feeling you get when you just know something’s wrong but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Until you can. I thought they were husband and wife I really did. You shoulda seen my face when I realized they were in fact brother and sister. Me and Arthur had the exact same face. They were living as husband and wife tho. Well, up until I killed them.

I also love the contrast between the more ‘modern’ world and the simpler life. I could go into town, buy food at the saloon and rent a room or take a bath at the hotel. Or I could ride a few mins out into the wilderness, hunt and gather my own food, cook it over a bonfire and sleep under the stars. Electricity exists, but people are still completely dependent on oil lamps and open flame. Trains and trams exist, cars have been invented, but people still mainly travel on horseback. This contrast between old and new as an era is ending and the modern era is about to begin has been an amazing experience considering the level of detail the game has. The colonization of the new land, which has been largely unknown to me, the contrast between this and modern-day America we see on TV. So many people did not even speak English, I often find abandoned buildings, or burnt-down buildings, some with bodies inside, leaving me wondering what happened to them, I found a ghost town whose inhabitants had been wiped out by a plague. It was tough for many I reckon.

In fact, I find the exploration of this foreign but also somewhat familiar, beautiful but harsh world and its many random events and encounters waaay more interesting than the actual main story itself, which is why it took me forever to reach chapter 3. In fact, the story is probably my least favorite part about RDR2, as backwards as it may sound. I’ve never been into western stories or aesthetics, and I’m certainly NOT into the whole ‘outlaws till the end’ stuff ugh. I fail to sympathize with the whole ‘boo-hoo the world no want outlaws like us no more it’s unfair’. Ugh, go cry me a fucking river. And then go get a job. A real job. Yeah, I get it that adapting to society is tough, life’s tough deal with it and stop preying on others. Wow, robbing two trains in short time and staying in the same fucking area actually has consequences, I’m so shook!

So yeah, story-wise I don’t quite ‘get it’ and Dutch is really starting to get on my nerves, which is probably why I prefer to just ride off alone and experience the world. I guess RDR2 story will rely heavily on being torn between gang loyalty and your own morality and principles but since I have virtually no concept of group loyalty that is all lost on me. My own morals and principles all the way. I’m like, ‘these people suck, take Hosea, Charles, Sadie, Tilly (maybe John Marston and his family) and leave these bitches behind’.

At the beginning, I did kinda liked Dutch. He seemed genuinely sorry for Sadie, took her in and saved her life, even if it meant another mouth to feed in dire times. And he showed Kiran mercy despite hating the O’Driscol’s. But as I’ve progressed thought the game, his grand speeches about sticking together, sticking with him, slowly but surely has turned from pep-talk to keep people’s spirit up to sounding like a cult leader desperate to keep his following no matter the cost. Yesterday when I was playing, I overheard him quote some quasi-philosophy book to Lenny and used the words to twist them into his own convictions to support his decisions. And when Lenny objected, Dutch literally said ‘you’re breaking my heart, kid’. Wow Dutch, talk about manipulating your protégé.

It was the mission when those lawmen approached Arthur as he was fishing with Jack that really made me consciously see Dutch in a new light. Up until then, RDR2 had mostly been fun and games but that conversation left me feeling a bit uneasy. But I just figured it was the main story finally picking up pace and also, I figured I was near the end of the chapter. I carried on, suddenly eager to see what would happen and was thoroughly surprised by how the chapter ended. In a bad way.

While both chapter 2 and chapter 3 begins with a ‘new start’ vibe, chapter 3 felt very different from chapter 2. Mostly it was that feeling that Dutch’s obsession with ‘sticking to this life’ is going to get people killed. Idk, it’s this eerie feeling something’s wrong but can’t quite put my finger on it-feel again. But thanks to internet being internet I already knew some spoilers so I couldn’t help but to look up something and… well, let me put it this way. I’m never going to finish this game. Ever. It breaks my heart because in so many ways it’s truly an amazing game and a fantastic experience. But I’m just not that into the story, I don’t like where it’s heading and I don’t want to see what’s coming to character(s) I’ve come to care deeply about.

I still want to explore the world more, see what unfolds, do more challenges, add stuff to my compendium, maybe get some trophies… but I doubt I’ll ever progress much story-wise. Quite the contrary, I might reload an earlier save and just stay in chapter 2 forever.

(wrtten a couple of days later)

Seems my instincts was right on the money, esp concerning Dutch. Sad thing, I do believe he is sincere. In the first few chapters at least. He is manipulative but I also believe he’s convinced himself that he’s doing the right thing. And then his obsession will eventually get the better of him and when people and the lifestyle is slipping away from him, he doesn’t handle it well at all. Ugh, it’s so frustrating, I just wanna gather all my favs and yell: “leave nooow, before it’s too late!

It’s not for the sake of spacing it out or making it last. I just don’t want to progress in the story at all. I hated losing Horseshoe Overlook. HATED IT HATED IT HATED IT!!!! Yes the new place is beautiful, yes I know it’s the life of the outlaws and RDR2 does show that life for better and for worse whereas most stories tend to romanticize the whole thing, yes as outlaws they can’t stay for too long in one place. But as mentioned I have a hard time sympathize with and immerse myself into that lifestyle. Yes, I got all my upgrades and a whole new area to explore, a bigger nearby town, and closer to that big city. Still hated it. Horseshoe Overlook was my place. The Heartlands was home. And the view was stunning! And I liked Valentine. It was small and dirty but I had good memories from there. Until I had to shoot up half the town. My motivation for continuing the main story is at absolute zero.

It was more what the transition represented, I guess. You never know what will happen in RDR2. And it’s true, for random encounters, and many of the individual missions. But when it comes to the story as a whole, I feel like I already now can predict how it’ll play out. Every chapter begins with the gang on the move, finding a place to settle down and have a fresh start, even chapter 1 (as they were on the run bc a heist gone wrong or something). Then they settle down, go into town to get to know the area and establish connections and looking for easy money, often at the expenses of others. X random events later, they get too overconfident or careless, screws up or get hunted down, it ends with a shootout, then they are on the run again, finds a new place to settle down where Dutch promises that THIS TIME IT WILL BE DIFFERENT until they’re wanted on the entire map and can’t go anywhere cos the wild west is ending. I really liked it at Horseshoe Overlook and whenever Im in that area again I’ll just get sad.

I had no idea I’d gotten so emotionally invested so I was really surprised at how much I disliked moving camps and all. I’ve also gotten so fond of Arthur. I was so busy with exploring, doing challenges, learning to hunt etc I didn’t even realize it happening. Until one scene had me almost tearing up! I think because, we as the player really have to look out for him. Even though I make sure that he eats regularly, he’s still underweight. When out riding I usually set up camp when night falls so that Arthur can get some rest. Something I’d never think about in any other game. And I always give him coffee in the morning. Then it’s his journal that gives such valuable insight into who he truly is as a person. There’s no doubt he’s so much more than just a mere outlaw. He writes surprisingly well and is open and is surprisingly honest about his thoughts and feelings. How torn he is between the life of an outlaw and wanting to be a better man, a better person. How he admired Charles because, for him it was ‘so easy to just be good’ whereas he himself always feel torn between good and evil. And his journal entries when he meets his long-lost love Mary and saves her brother from the cultists. The expression on his face as he said goodbye to her on the train station… how utterly heartbroken he was… how she still loved him too… man, that one tore at my heart. Still does when thinking about it.

I wish I could take Hosea, Charles, Sadie, Tilly, John’s family and maybe Lenny too with me, run off and start anew. Charles would have good influence on Arthur and encourage him to turn his life around and find his place in society and encourage John to be a better father and role model for Jack and they could all learn how to live as free men and women without robbing or hurting anyone (unless they deserve it). Like, Charles is an excellent hunter and tracker. He’d totally get enough food for the gang and maybe even enough to sell. He could train Jack too. Hosea was always more of a conman/grifter than a brute/robber. He could con bad guys or rich assholes Robin Hood style. If anyone gave him grief, John and Arthur would settle the score. Arthur could sell animal pelts and John could take up carpeting. They’d be such a happy lil family. But, RDR1 is yet to happen so it’s all just wishful thinking *sigh*

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #the ramblings of a fangirl #about me

[nohappenstance]

Hetaera - Unsteady (Prologue)

Hetaera - “a courtesan or mistress, especially one in ancient Greece akin to the modern geisha.”

Pairing: Liam x MC (Riley) x “The Gang”

Book: The Royal Romance 

Word Count: ~2,000

Warning: Major(?) character death

Rating:  PG-13

Song: https://youtu.be/pFjryf8zH_M 

Author’s Note: This is my first fic and I’m uber nervous to post. My MC is named Riley Brooks because I’m pretty lazy. This is mostly canon but I wanted to explore the idea of Riley deciding to stay with Liam at all costs - including becoming his mistress, hence the title of this series.  The series will contain some fluff, some NSFW and quite a bit of angst, because, mistress. The prologue describes the events that eventually lead Riley to make her decision.

All characters but Zady belong to Pixelberry.

         The gang made their way through the hallway of the posh apartment building. Upon reaching the correct door number listed, Maxwell leaned against the wall and rubbed his forehead wearily. Searching for Tariq in the hot L.A. sun and brutal traffic had taken its toll on all of them. In had been a long morning, and they had one more address left on their list. Even with narrowing their search to only those customers who purchased Sartorini shoes exclusively, the search was tedious and until now, fruitless. Riley took a deep breath before knocking determinedly on the door. 

         “Here goes nothing, guys,” she said.

         Drake sighed tiredly while Hana gave Riley an encouraging smile. There was no answer at the door so Riley knocked again, somewhat louder this time. They heard feet shuffling and the door opened just a crack. A petite woman with delicate features blinked out at them. They had obviously woken her.

         “H-hi, is Tariq home?” Riley asked. 

         At the mention of Tariq’s name, the woman opened her eyes wide, then they began to fill with tears. “I was wondering when someone would show up.” She said, “you might as well come in.” She stepped aside and opened the door wider. 

         As they stepped into the apartment, they were met with a mountain of designer coats piled on the couch. On the corner was another pile of Sartorini shoes. The apartment was sparsely decorated and otherwise empty. This was definitely Tariq’s place.

         “I’m Riley, and this is Hana, Drake, and Maxwell.” Each one gave a slight wave as they were introduced. “I’m Zady”, the woman replied. “are you all friends of Tahir?” 

         “Tahir?” Maxwell questioned, his face puzzled. 

         “Tariq. I meant Tariq. Are you all his friends?” 

         Everyone looked at each other. “Friends is a strong word,” Drake stated, “think of us more as… acquaintances.” 

          At Drake’s response, the woman’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re not friends, what the hell do you want?” Zady spat out in a harsh voice.

          “We are hoping he could help us resolve a problem. Please, it’s a matter of great urgency to me and to…” Riley’s voice trailed off when she saw a shadow pass over Zady’s face.

          “I strongly doubt he can help you,” Zady said sadly “in fact, he can’t help anyone anymore. Tariq is dead.”

                                               * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

          This is the absolute gloomiest flight I’ve ever been on Riley thought to herself as she sniffed and wiped her eyes. She was having a hard time keeping it together. She’d already broken out in loud sobs twice on the plane and the rest of her friends were not faring any better. Drake was staring intently at his third glass of whiskey as if drawing the strength he needed by simply looking at the glass. Maxwell kept swallowing repeatedly and occasionally dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. He read the card that Zady had given him, “Detective Dave Reyes,” Maxwell murmured.  Hana was openly weeping, but since she was Hana, still managed to look beautiful, even the motion of the tears that fell from her eyes was elegant and fluid. In comparison, Riley could feel that her eyes were red and puffy and she was a mess of tears and snot. 

          Riley laughed bitterly. “I’m sure going to be a sight at the wedding shower tonight,” she croaked, breaking the silence that hung like a heavy blanket across the cabin of the plane. “Puffy eyes and a broken heart have never been a good look on anyone.”

          “You are always beautiful, Little Blossom.” Maxwell gave Riley a slight smile, trying to be supportive. Hana chimed in, “I’m sure that with a splash of water and fresh makeup you will look as gorgeous as always, Riley.” she encouraged. 

          Drake said nothing as he continued to nurse his whiskey. He sighed. “What the hell, I’ll say it,” he declared “Tariq was a pompous and shallow ass but he sure as hell didn’t deserve his fate.” Although everyone was in agreement, no one answered Drake. All their minds went back to the events that although happened just a couple hours ago, seemed like another lifetime.

                                                * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

          At Zady’s announcement, they had looked at each other with shocked expressions on their face, everyone speechless. “What do you mean he’s dead? Explain yourself!”  Drake almost shouted at Zady in his bewilderment.

          Zady was taken aback at Drake’s combative manner, but she held her ground and lifted her chin. “You haven’t explained who you are, and what exactly you were wanting from Tahir. I don’t think I owe you any information!”

           Riley felt the room spin and a sick sensation in her stomach. She swayed unsteadily and grabbed Drake’s arm for support. 

          “Whoa, Brooks!” Drake exclaimed. “You ok, there?” Upon seeing the green tone of her skin, Drake lifted her in his arms and carried her to the couch that was not covered in coats.

            “I just need to lie down and clear my head,” Riley responded. Her eyes sought Zady’s. “Please.” She asked simply.  

           Zady at first looked annoyed, but then her face softened when she saw that Riley was truly upset. “That’s fine,” she stated, waving her hand while walking to the kitchen. “It appears that we all got off on the wrong foot. Let’s all sit down and clear the air.” Zady walked to the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the refrigerator. She handed the water to Riley.

          Riley took the glass and downed the water appreciatively. “Zady, we are so sorry. We intrude upon your home and ask for answers with no explanation. Drake can be…intense at times, but he means well.”

          “Intense is one way to put it,” Zady said as she eyed Drake appreciatively. 

          Drake blushed under Zady’s gaze. “Yeah, I-I’m sorry.” Drake lamely apologized as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

          Maxwell graciously stepped in. “Zady?” he asked, “perhaps it’s best if we start from the beginning…” Maxwell began to relay the whole story, beginning with Riley and Liam’s first meeting at the bar in New York, to Maxwell sponsoring Riley as a suitor for Liam during the social season. He explained how Liam and Riley were madly in love, how she had been set up by Liam’s own father at the coronation when Constantine was sure Liam was going to propose to Riley. Understanding that Zady and Tariq had some sort of relationship, Maxwell downplayed Tariq’s part in the scandal, and instead stated that they were looking for Tariq in order to clarify the misunderstanding and clear both Riley and Tariq’s names. 

          As Maxwell spoke, Zady’s eyes became wider and wider. They were as big as saucers when he finished. “Wow,” she repeated, “wow”. Zady then launched into her own tale. “Like many in this town, I came here looking for my big break.” she began, “I’ve been here almost a year, going to as many auditions as I can while working the midnight shift at the 24-hour diner as a waitress. I know, I know, I’m a walking cliché.” She shrugged her shoulders.

                  Maxwell opened his mouth to speak but then decided against it. Zady continued, “About a month ago, a good-looking stranger came in and sat at one of my tables. From the looks of him, I could tell he was money. Not “Hollywood money” either, but old money, real money. He introduced himself as Tahir and said that he was conducting “family business” here in L.A. Even though I could tell he was quite self-centered, something drew me to him. He looked so sad and out of place, kind of like he was searching for something that was impossible to find. You know, I’ve always had a thing for lost souls…” Zady’s voice trailed off but then she continued, “I shared with him how I was behind on my rent and would probably be living out of my car soon. He said that he was tired of being lonely and invited me to stay with him. On a whim, I said yes. He was good to me and we were fine for a couple of weeks until I came across his passport”

          Zady took a deep breath before continuing, “the name on the passport said Tariq Alnobani and it was issued by a country I’d never heard before – Cordonia.  When I asked Tahir why he was going by a different name, he appeared quite upset and said he had his reasons. He abruptly changed the subject. Now, that makes sense.” She finished.  

          Riley sat up. “Zady, we don’t want to upset you any further, but we need to know, how did Tariq die?”

          Zady took a deep yet shaky breath before continuing. “He was murdered.” Hana gasped and Maxwell brought his hand to his forehead. Zady continued, “it was a mugging gone terribly wrong. Tahir, I mean, Tariq was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. According to the detective, Tariq was walking on Venice Beach after dark.  A pair of junkies got too aggressive when they tried to rob him.  They knocked him down and Tariq hit his head on an overhanging piece of concrete. He was found the next morning. Thankfully, the detective said he had gotten knocked out quickly and didn’t experience much pain.”

          “When the responding officers noticed Tariq’s clothes, they realized they were dealing with a wealthy person. The department assigned a hotshot detective to the case. Detective Dave Reyes. He left me his card. Told me to call him if I learned anything else about Tariq’s identity. Apparently, they’re having quite a time locating next of kin since he’s from a foreign country. Maybe you all could give him a call. Here.” Zady took a business card from the side table and handed it to Riley.  

          Riley took the card from Zady. “When did all this happen?” she asked.

          Zady once again began to cry. “Just three days ago,” she replied. “I found out through the detective, after coming home from my shift.” Zady laughed bitterly, “I was actually a suspect at first, or at least I was treated like one. While I can’t say I loved Tariq, he was good to me and we were happy the few weeks we were together. Now I have less than a week to find somewhere to live. I am booked for a dog food commercial later this week. We’ll see where that takes me…I’m so sorry about what Tariq’s death means for you, Riley.” Zady finished.

           Riley was touched that Zady would think of her at a time like this, in the midst of her own pain. Nevertheless, in spite of her sadness, Riley still felt so much anger at Tariq. Now, she would never be able to clear her name. Liam would have to marry Madeline. She would lose the love of her life, the friendships she had formed, and her fairytale ending all because of the selfishness and short-sightedness of a dead man. It was back to New York for her. Her waitressing job and unfinished grad degree were calling her name. She stood up and handed the detective’s card to Maxwell. 

          Riley hugged Zady and took her hands in her own. “Zady, thank you so much for taking the time to answer our questions. Maxwell here will contact Tariq’s family in Cordonia and give them the detective’s information, won’t you Max?” Maxwell nodded furiously. “I – we,” she said, waving her hands toward the group, “We wish you the very best going forward. I hope to buy tickets to your movies one day.” Riley smiled.

Zady laughed. “From your mouth to God's ears…” Zady crossed her fingers. “I also wish you the best. All of you. Hopefully, Riley, in spite of these events, you’ll get your happily ever after, after all…”

[winteriron-trash]

Ok, so that fanfic questions ask meme? You wanna do ALL OF THEM?!

YES, LET’S DO IT, HERE WE GO, PREPARE YOURSELF I’m copy and pasting answers I’ve already done just so I don’t have to retype them and there’s a break because god this got long. I might link this on my About Me post, cause holy shit I spent time on this

1. What was the first fandom you got involved in?

Actual fandom? Probably DC. That’s when I started reading fanfiction and really poked my head around online communities dedicated to media and all.

2. What is your latest fandom?

I don’t know, probably Marvel? Maybe Riverdale, but I was a fan of the comics before so

3. What is the best fandom you’ve ever been involved in?

If I’m assuming this question is about the actual fandom and not the source material and the people in the fandom and its community as a whole? Probably the Percy Jackson fandom. Not really into it anymore so I don’t know the state of it now, but it was a pretty wholesome and positive community. Any community that calls it’s creator “Uncle Rick” has gotta be pretty dope.

4. Do you regret getting involved in any fandoms?

Oh lord save my soul for admitting I like this, but definitely Five Nights at Freddy’s. The indie gaming, creepypasta, underground subculture as a whole is something I regret getting into. Don’t get me wrong, I usually love the source material, but the fandom is just so bad. You probably know what I’m talking about, the fangirls who insist they’re insane and are in love with Slenderman or something.

But specifically on FNaF, lord, I don’t even know what the fandom is anymore. It’s a meme, a fetish, and a hellspace all at once. And I’m not gonna fucking lie, I’ve been in this hellhole long before any of that. Like, I can’t even try to escape it, I’m in it for the long haul. I was just someone who joined for the lore and now we’re here with fucking casual bongos and trash gang and fuck I didn’t ask for this. I can’t escape. I know so fucking much about the franchise it hurts my fucking soul. I remember when the FNaF 2 trailer came out and we were all micro-analyzing London Bridge Is Falling Down. I remember when Springtrap didn’t have a name and we called that fucking Spring Bonnie or Golden Bonnie. I survived that era and I have PTSD from it, trust me. I remember when we were naive enough to think FNaF 3 was the last game. I know what channels were born and what channels died because of that series. I know it all.

I’m sorry, I got off topic. BUT I DON’T GET TO FUCKING RANT ABOUT IT ENOUGH, FUCKING FUCKSHIT

Oh, and a lot of bandoms I was in too. I went through an alt phase where I’d only listen to shit like BVB, BMTH, MCR, PTV, SWS, and so on. Once again, that sort of fandom was the same as the indie/creepypasta in being ‘different’ and ‘insane’ and all that and I was no different. I was a weird fucking kid when I was like 13. I regret all of it.

5. Which fandoms have your written fanfiction for?

Marvel, DC, and a couple Riverdale. 

6. List your OTP from each fandom you’ve been involved in.

Not in many fandoms but

Marvel - WinterIronDC - SuperbatStar Trek Voyager - Captain Janeway/Seven of NinePercy Jackson - Solangelo

7. List your NoTPs from each fandom you’ve been in.

Marvel - Stucky, Stuckony, Romanogers, Clintasha, any incest ones, (save me for admitting this) SpideypoolDC - Any batboys shipped together, Bruce/Talia

And I don’t really have NOTPs for my other fandoms? Marvel and DC are really the only two things I’m invested in the fandom of. I guess you could count Wincest as well for Supernatural.

8. How did you get involved in your latest fandom?

What even is my latest fandom? Um, we’ll just say Marvel because I’m really not into joining fandoms much anymore. Honestly, I was a big DC fan who felt the need to hate Marvel because no shit. Eventually, I just got sick of the absolute shit movies DC had and I decided I had nothing to lose by just watching Iron Man. When I watched it I realized “wow, superhero movies can actually be good???” and I just binged the entire MCU in one month and was ready to see the next movie in theatres and I think I’ve seen every single MCU movie in theatres since Civil War? Definitely since Homecoming. I gave up on DC movies. The new Aquaman looks like shit, I’m so fucking pissed they redid Mera’s look when she looked perfectly fucking fine before and now she’s oversexualized and it’s gross. I’m excited for the new DC Batwoman TV show because I HAVE BEEN WAITING TO SEE A LIVE ACTION BATWOMAN SINCE THE DAWN OF FUCKING TIME

9. What are the best things about your current fandom?

Probably the Tony Stark Defense Squad. As a collective whole, I think the Defense Squad is one of the sweetest, nicest corners of the fandom. We’re incredibly kind to each other, write great meta and fic, and it’s just a great community. Of course, there are assholes, but you know.

I might get flamed for saying this, but also the HYDRA Trash Party corner of the fandom is actually really nice? Like, they understand consent and abuse aftermath and all the real shit better than the rest of the fandom, not gonna lie. Like, for as dark as the fic is you’d expect the people to be fucking nasties, but I have never met a rude HTP enthusiast. Or even one who’s unaware of how consent and whump work. They’re all very aware and kind. It’s bizarre, considering the source material. They get an awful rep though.

10.  Is there a fandom you read fic from but don’t write in?

Literally any fandom I’m in besides Marvel and DC. I think I wrote like 2 Riverdale fics. Getting into reading fanfic and getting into writing fanfic are two entirely different ballparks. I don’t really read that much fanfic anyway, especially not anymore. I read Marvel and DC, but even then. I think it’s hard because sometimes you can’t switch off the whole ‘reading like a writer’ thing. That’s why I enjoy classic literature. I’m a slut for some good ass prose and symbolism.

11. Who is your current OTP?

WinterIron, of ducking course.

12. Who is your current OT3?

I’m not really a fan of OT3s, to be honest, I find I’m personally pretty weak with writing poly relationships and I don’t really enjoy reading them because one character is usually focused on a lot more than the other two. But if I had to pick, I would say T’Challa/M’Baku/Bucky only because I am solely responsible for the creation of that abomination and you have no idea how much people begged me for a series after the first one, it astounded me.

13. Any NoTPs?

As before listed, Stucky, Stuckony, Spideypool, Clintasha, Romanogers

14. Go on, who are your BroTPs?

IronWidow is my top BroTP, but I also like WinterWidow as a BroTP. Stucky is good as a BroTP too, as well as Tony & Rhodey.

15. Is there an obscure ship which you love?

Literally any ship I have. Yall I’ve been here since WinterIron was obscure. But to name a specific one I’m just gonna go with Pietro/Tony. I don’t know, I just had an idea I was writing for them and I was thinking about how much missed out potential there was between them. And with Pietro as a whole, but you know. Marvel has to kill off the only good Maximoff they had.

Oh, Natasha/Pepper too, but they aren’t as obscure, I guess.

16. Are their any popular ships in your fandom which you dislike?

Stucky, clearly.

17. Who was your first OTP and are they still your favourite?

Stony, and no. They fell apart for me, at least MCU-wise.

18. What ship have you written the most about?

By now, WinterIron, I believe. I recently passed my count of fics for Superbat.

19. Is there a ship which you wished you could get behind, but you just don’t feel them?

Pepperony, probably. I think it’s actually a cute and sweet ship and I like their in-canon moments, but I just can’t get behind reading fanfic of them? It never works out for me, I don’t really get it. It sucks because I do enjoy seeing their cute moments.

20. Any ships which you surprised yourself by liking?

I’ll do a different answer I thought of besides the first time I answered this. But Thruce was a big shocker for me. I didn’t even think about it during Ragnorak but then I saw an incorrect quote for it and I was like? Oh? This? This is a good, pure ship right here. The funny thing is, I actually wrote a fic with them as a side ship long before they hit it big so like, I was shocked when they came out of nowhere. But hey, I’m fucking here for it. I’ll probably never write it, but I’m here for it. 

21. What was the first fanfic you ever wrote?

Goodnight, My Angel. It was a Superbat fic and really sad, but I still love it.

22. Is there anything you regret writing?

Probably... You Deserve Love And You’ll Get It. No, I won’t link it because I hate it that much. I’m not even gonna talk about it.  It’s my most popular fic too why

23. Name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of & explain why you like it.

Super dorky, but The (Un)Wanted Kiss. It’s my first finished chapter fic, and the first chaptered fic I did on Tumblr and it just brings me a lot of nostalgia. It reminds me of where I was as a writer when I started it and it was an entire fic spawned from people wanting more of a simple 500-word prompt and that just blows my mind. It reminds me of the power of fans and how much love and support I got from it. It really kicked me off as a “serious fanfic writer” I think.

24. What fic do you desperately need to rewrite or edit?

All You Are Is All I Need. That is a hot fucking mess. Probably The Red Halo too.

25. What’s your most popular fanfic?

*sigh* You Deserve Love And You’ll Get It

26. How do you come up with your fanfic titles?

I bullshit my way through them. My most recent fics have actually followed a trend of being named after songs.

27. What do you hate more: Coming up with titles or writing summaries?

Summaries. I always make them so fucking corny, I hate it.

28. If someone were to draw a piece of fanart for your story, which story would it be and what would the picture be of?

One Foot In Front Of The Other, probably. Just because I want more fem!WinterIron fanart. I can’t say what scene because spoilers but.... yeah, anything from that would be great, really.

29. Do you have a beta reader? Why/Why not?

Sort of. I make some of my friends like Pizza read over my shit before I post it, but that’s not often, only when I think I need it. I don’t just because I write a lot and I’d feel bad for constantly annoying someone with making them read everything I write. I hate inconveniencing people.

30. What inspires you to write?

The better question is what doesn’t. I never stop thinking like a writer. My brain forgot how to turn off that feature.

31. What’s the nicest thing someone has ever said about your writing?

Ummmm, I can’t think of an exact thing? I get so many beyond sweet comments and messages, it’s hard to pin down one comment. I think if I had to pick, I once got a message from someone on Tumblr who was old enough to be my mother complimenting me and telling me I didn’t write like a teenager and I think that was really sweet.

32. Do you listen to music when you write or does music inspire you? If so, which band or genre of music does it for you?

Yes, yes, yes, yes. And honestly, any genre. I listen to everything. Everything. But specifically, Emilie Autumn has inspired a lot ideas/fics I’ve written.

33. Do you write oneshots, multi-chapter fics or huuuuuge epics?

All of the above.

34. What’s the word count on your longest fic?

Around 23k, I think?

35. Do you write drabbles? If so, what do you normally write them about?

Yes, and whatever I get prompted for, really.

36. What’s your favourite genre to write?

For fanfiction, I guess romance? I mean, that’s really all my fanfiction is. Otherwise, I’ll write quite literally any genre I feel like. I go wherever an idea takes me. I’m character based, not genre or plot based.

37. First person or third person - what do you write in and why?

Third. I fucking despise 1st person. I just do. That’s an entire rant we ain’t here for today.

38. Do you use established canon characters or do you create OCs?

Usually canon characters. I only use an OC when I absolutely have to, to make the plot do the plot stuff.

39. What is you greatest strength as a writer?

Nothing. My writing sucks. All of it is shit.

40. What do you struggle the most with in your writing?

Everything. I screech the most about pacing and sentence structures though.

41. List and link to 5 fanfics you are currently reading:

Most of these are actually on my to-read list but whatever.

Winter's End by ali_aliska Winter is Coming (aka Fifty First Avengers Dates) by 27dragons, tisfan My Love is Vengeance by seikaitsukimizu The caged Hawk by asamandra Fertile Ground by 27dragons, tisfan

42. List and link to 5 fanfiction authors who are amazing:

27dragons tisfanChiaki_Hamano arianapeterson19 thepartyresponsible

43. Is there anyone in your fandom who really inspires you?

Not really? I’m not knocking any of the other ‘big names’ in the Marvel fandom, but I don’t really draw inspiration from other fanfic writers. Not for plot, and definitely not for writing style. I get inspiration from fanart I see sometimes, but it’s never one main artist who I stalk to be inspired, just whatever I happen across online.

44. What ship do you feel needs more attention?

WinterIron, duh. I will not rest until WinterIron is the biggest ship in the Marvel fandom.

45. What is your all time favourite fanfic?

I’ve mentioned this fic before and honestly, it hasn’t been topped yet, but  In the Company of Monsters by Chiaki_Hamano. It’s not even a Marvel fic, and it’s not even a ship I like, but god, I fucking adore it. I’d love to write something like it, but with WinterIron if I had the time, I think the entire world and setting would fit WinterIron beautifully.

46. If someone was to read one of your fanfics, which fic would you recommend to them and why?

Well, that all depends on what they’re looking for in my fanfiction. If they’re looking for WinterIron, I’d probably tell them to start with The (Un)Wanted Kiss just because that’s one of my most loved fics and I think I did really well with it. But if they just want a general fic, A Great Connection is one I’m really proud of and I still get gushing feedback about.

47. Archive Of Our Own, Fanfiction.net or Tumblr - where do you prefer to post and why?

For just writing fanfic, Ao3. Tumblr can be a pain in the ass, and I don’t even use ff.net.

48. Do you leave reviews when you read fanfiction? Why/Why not?

Yes. But only if 1, I really, really loved it or 2, I don’t think the fic has enough attention. It also helps if the writer responds to comments. I don’t see the significance of saying “I loved this!” if the fic has dozens of other comments saying the same thing. As a writer, I know what comments writers prefer. Longer ones, deep comments pointing out what things they liked, and so on. However if I write a comment that long, I like to get a response because you know, I love seeing the writer talking about the elements of the story I liked. 

49. Do you care if people comment/reblog your writing? Why/why not?

Not really, to be perfectly honest. Yes, I love and cherish every kudos and note I get, and the sweet comments make me want to die of joy. But I write for me. Even when I take prompts, in the end, I write because it makes me happy. Yes, I love the validation. But even without it, I would still write. I do not write fanfiction for you, I share fanfiction with you. There’s a difference. Writing makes me happy. If I only cared about the validation, I wouldn’t have a folder reserved of fics I’ll never post but I wrote just because I wanted to. I write to write. The moment I start writing for validation, I might as well stop writing, because it’s not worth it.

50. How did you get into reading and/or writing fanfiction?

Ummmm I think I was just curious? I was new to internet culture, I saw fanart of Superbat and I discovered Ao3 and was like “wow, this stuff exists??? Words for free????? About my favourite characters being happy and dating each other??????????” and it was a downward spiral. I was like, 11 when I read my first fanfiction. I was obsessed with Superbat fanart, and I thought, what would it hurt to try actually reading it? Like, that was so taboo to me. And now we’re here. Tadaaaaaah

51. Rant or Gush about one thing you love or hate in the world of fanfiction! Go!

Oh, a chance to ramble. Yay. I’m gonna rant because I’m a rant-y person.

I think something that annoys me about fanfiction is not necessarily a probably within fanfiction, but rather the outward view of it. Fanfic has an awful rep within the real world. The one-time fanfiction really took centre stage was when Fifty Shades came out, which only hurt the platform by furthering the stereotype that it’s all porn made for horny freaks who just want to get off.

I should not be ashamed to say I write fanfiction. I should not feel childish saying it to myself. No one should. At least half of my ‘fans’ are nearly a decade or more older than me. It’s clearly not something that’s immature or silly. Of course, it can be, but any hobby can be dumbed down to a kiddy version.

But fanfiction at its core is ignored for what it really is. When adults talk about fanfiction they belittle it and only see a tiny subsection of it, ignoring what it’s supposed to be about. It’s about creating transformative works for media you’re passionate about.

Fanfiction gets a worse rep than other transformative works such as fanart or whatever. Writing as a whole does. Fanfic is painted as this utter trash.

I’ve read fanfiction that made me cry, laugh, feel shit. I’ve read fanfiction that tackled heavy topics. Even on a sexual standpoint, I’ve read fanfiction that was willing to write erotica that published authors wouldn’t fucking touch. Both in a kink sense, but also in terms of how the relationship functions. I’ve read shitty fanfictions, sure. But I’ve read fanfictions that were better than 90% of the published books I’ve read. Even fanfics I didn’t like.

To put fanfiction into perspective, the average YA novel (the age group fanfiction is generally but not always aimed at) is 70k words. I’ve read fanfiction that blows that word count out of the water. And it takes fucking skill to write something that long. It’s not just writing a bunch of porn or cute scenes, that takes serious world building and character arcs.

Fanfiction kills so many tropes that are common in YA and literature in general. I read a YA after reading nothing but fanfiction for a long time and I was fucking appalled? It was a popular YA too. I won’t name what one because you could literally imagine anyone and it’d probably fit. The characters were flat, the romance was outright manipulative and toxic, the plot was dull, even the writing itself was bland. This was the type of book years ago I would’ve loved. But compared to most (of course, not all. Shit exists, but I think in fanfiction, we’re able to better filter out the shit) fanfictions, it was fucking trash.

When I started reading fanfiction, I assumed it’d lower my standards. The first time I picked up an actual novel I was relieved, excited to not have to deal with the problems that are in unpublished writings. But I quickly realized it was the complete opposite. Fanfiction threw my expectations through the roof. I expect fiction to include representation, fresh plots, interesting characters, thrilling romances, and decent fucking sex scenes if they’re there. But it just wasn’t there. It all fell flat. As someone seriously into the writing and reading community I hear so often that it’s hard for plots to be original and you shouldn’t judge on originality, but then I read fanfiction written by fucking teenagers that’s fucking mind-blowing with plot twists and original ideas, and I have to wonder is it really that hard? It’s clearly doable, you just have to take away the fanfiction part.

I have YA novels sitting on my sheld I know I’ll never read and enjoy because fanfiction just made my expectations too high. Which is good in a sense because I pray some of these amazing writers, when they get older will go on to write mind-blowing original novels and I hope that this generation of writers will put out great literature in ten to fifteen years, but for now I’m just… underwhelmed. I think it’s why I read a lot of classic literature too. Shit was better back then.

And yet despite all that, fanfiction is still made to look like shit in the modern media. It sucks so badly for fanfiction writers not to look like serious writers. I could publish one book, have it get the amount of attention my biggest fanfic got and be considered a serious author. My biggest fanfiction currently has 40k notes on Tumblr. Imagine if that were a published short story. It’d be a fucking hit. And there are others that make my numbers look small. And yet it’s brushed aside as unimpactful.

I think a lot of that stems from the fact that fanfic writers do generally start out younger. I’m 16. Others either are or were my age. But age does not equate to skill in writing. Sure, that is a factor, but it is not the entire story. I know a 14 yr old who writes some of the best prose I have ever seen. And even if younger fic writers aren’t on level yet, fanfiction is what’s helping them grow as a writer. But because we’re teenagers, we’re turned away just because of that. Even more specifically because we’re teenage girls (for the most part, I’m not saying other genders and/or age groups aren’t writing/reading fanfic) and we all know how society feels about them. It’s just a fucking shame that fanfiction can’t be respected for the legitimate form of writing it is because of the stigma. I’ve seen fanfic writers say they aren’t real writers because of the stigma, it’s awful. We feel the need to tear ourselves down for an admirable hobby. I can’t say my favourite book is a fanfiction I read, when I has every right to be a valid answer.

We’ll cut this ramble off here because wow I really went on didn’t I.

[manonblckbeak]

Temptation: Part VI

wow. whoa, what? Gin’s actually finally posting another part of temptation? 

okay, kidding aside, i just wanted to say how sorry i am about the time it took to post this. i explained before that i was going through some weird things in my life and i wasn’t feeling any of my writing and to be honest i didn’t want to post anything for you guys if i didn’t actually love it. i’m better now, and i managed to write something i’m really proud of and i hope you guys like it! Thanks to @nightcourthighlordrhysand for everything really.

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

As winter grew colder and Christmas drew closer, Feyre dove into her art projects like they were her only means of survival. She knew she should use this time, this magical time of year to get closer yet to her friends, but after that day at Hiems… she just didn’t trust herself around Rhys. Didn’t trust herself to make the right calls, to be strong, to keep her heart safe.

               So she did homework, practiced her drawing and her painting and her sketching, but never, not even as she realized the very thing that was supposed to keep her mind off of him had betrayed her once more—not even as she realized she had drawn his face, his body, his lips—thought of him.

               It was for the best. This, all this, was for the best. She knew where the road that lead her to him would take her, and it was not a peaceful or pretty place.

               And it was not selfish, she had come to realize. Because she was no longer thinking about herself, no longer thinking about how much she would hurt and bleed and suffer. No, not at all. She thought of him, of how she would ruin a… piece of art. Rhys—Rhys was so pure, so perfect—like a painting: splashes of colors and feelings and pain. And she couldn’t add up to that. Couldn’t change it, no matter how much she wanted to…

No. She wouldn’t go down that road.

               Feyre sighed, dropping the charcoal she had been drawing with. She could start to make out an elegant face on the paper beneath it, the lines on it beautiful and strong. Again. She had done it again. With a growl of irritation, Feyre ripped out the page off her drawing pad—which, if she was to be honest, had seen better days. She had been doing this too much lately.

               Dropping the balled up paper in the trashcan beside the desk, Feyre stood up, arching her back in an effort to stretch cramped up muscles. She wondered for a moment when Mor would be back, if she would find her asleep again, if she would complain the next morning about how they never got to spend time together anymore.

               Things between her roommate and her had been… complicated since the visit to Hiems. She’d tried at first. After all Mor had told her, after what she had shared as well, it had seemed like they would be stronger than ever, but—Mor could relentless in trying to make things right. And right for her wasn’t the same as it was for Feyre.

               So she had started to avoid her, avoid her plots and plans, her matchmaking, her efforts that, despite seeming well-intentioned and harmless, could hurt her so deeply. And with avoiding Mor, came avoiding Azriel, Amren, Cassian and, of course, Rhysand.

               And she had never felt so lonely. This, this was what she had expected her life at Prythian Academy to be like. It was like the world was collapsing in on itself and she couldn’t help but stand in the middle of the crossfire.

               She sighed again, checking her phone for the time. 7:30. Too early to go to bed yet, but definitely too late to go to the cafeteria for any remnants of dinner. Gods, what was she doing with her life? Mor was probably somewhere with the gang drinking the expensive wine she’d bought at Hiems—a never ending amount, it seemed, for she was always taking more and more and more from the bottom drawer of her closet. And yet, here she was: alone, unhappy, and fully aware that this—all of this—was her own choice.

               She was about to put her phone away when the ringing tone sounded.

***

               Feyre had come to fear the ringing of her phone. In the bitter, lonely weeks that followed Hiems, not once had Tamlin called, and yet, every time the damned thing buzzed, it was a near heart-stopping phenomena.

               It was not that she disliked having the thing with her. The phone was a commodity, a privilege. It kept her company when humans did not. But even when said nightmare did not happen, the phone itself, old and battered, held so many memories. Photographs and messages and even a makeshift love letter typed into the notes of the phone, signed with “much love, Tamlin”.

               It was a constant reminder of a life she did not want, did not need, did not deserve. But a reminder she kept close, for it let her know, with each touch of her skin against the cold screen, that love could be a poison. That love could be dangerous. That love could be wild and hurtful and tricky.

               So when her phone rang, the buzzing sending shivers up and down her spine, she jumped. Because she wasn’t ready to keep the reminder that close to her heart. She wasn’t ready to talk to Tamlin again, especially not alone, not after everything she’d done to bring herself up from the blind panic he’d set her upon at Hiems.

               But her fast breathing slowed down to a stop when she saw the number on the screen. For it was not Tamlin calling… But Nesta.

               “H-hello?” Feyre said, hands trembling with the fear of yet another heart-breaking moment, another piece of news that could change her life as she knew it, another slap in the face. You know, figuratively.

               “Hey, Feyre.” Her sister’s voice was as rough as she remembered. But oh, it was so nice to hear it. If not for the feeling of being home, for the simple reason that she had not talked, properly talked to another human being in so long. Weeks. It’d been weeks since she’d last had a conversation that hadn’t involved how absent she was or how her projects were going or what the fresh hell she was doing with her life. So, yes, the roughness and familiarity and just the fact that this was a simple, non-Rhysand related conversation was… nice. Very nice. “I trust you’re doing well?”

               Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall out into the planes of her face. Oh, how simple it would be to tell the truth. How simple it would be to confess that everything had turned, most definitely, to shit, and she was not well, not in any way. But things were not simple. Life was not simple.

               And so, she simply said, “Yes.” Feyre reached over to turn the light of her drawing table off, leaving only the room light on. She stood and walked over to her bed, throwing herself at the linen sheets before adding, “Yes, everything’s fine.”

               “I’m glad. But Feyre,” Nesta said, voice sharp. “You haven’t called in months. Dad’s been worried sick. You don’t call, don’t answer our texts, even Dean Falsum seemed helpless trying to get ahold of you.”

               Guilt buried itself deep inside of Feyre. She’d been trying so hard to make it all bearable for herself that she had forgotten about everyone else, it seemed. But she guessed she couldn’t pin it all on Tamlin or even Rhys. This was months of carelessness. This was just her avoiding her family for the very reason she was avoiding Mor: they, too, thought they knew what was best for her and she knew what was best for herself. “I’m sorry, Nesta.” She said quietly. “It’s just been… hard.”

               “Yes, well,” Nesta seemed angry at her. Not that she could really blame her. Her sister could be a bitch sometimes, but she was nothing if not protective of her family. “It’s been hard for us, too, you know? Dad’s rarely ever around, and since you aren’t here anymore…” she sighed, as if reminding herself that that hadn’t exactly been Feyre choice for starters. “Since you aren’t here anymore, I have to take care of Elain.”

               “How’s—”

               “And your beau,” Nesta ground out. “He keeps coming around. Begging—begging for us to bring you home.”

               Feyre trembled. Oh, Gods.

               “I can’t take it, Feyre.” She said, and Feyre could swear she heard some desperation in her sister’s voice. “I can’t take it anymore. Elain’s scared to bits. The last time I had to call the cops on him.” There was a sigh here, and it sounded so tired, so distraught, that Feyre wondered for a second if it had been herself that had breathed it out. “I don’t deserve this, Elain doesn’t deserve this. We can’t keep suffering the consequences of your mistakes.”

               “What—what are you saying?”

               “It’s time for you to come home.”

***

               Breakfast came all too soon.

               But Feyre didn’t talk as she picked up her food. Didn’t speak as she tried, and failed, to eat, and stared out the window beside their usual table, and blatantly ignored everybody. Her mind was still reeling with Nesta’s words, with the promise in them, with what the future now held for her.

               She went about her day as if everything was still the same, walking the halls of the Academy like a zombie out for brains. It had taken its time, but by now, the confusing halls made some sense to her. It wasn’t like she could trust Mor to be her guide anymore.

               Art class was usually the one joy in her life these days, Alis being the one support she needed most. The teacher was so giving, so kind… But her mind was elsewhere today. Miles away, actually. Back where she could still hear Nesta’s voice calling, as if a hair’s breadth away, I don’t deserve this.

               And she didn’t. Not really.

               Nesta had never been the best sister, had never cared for her as she had obviously cared for Elain, but Feyre loved her all the same. She was her sister, Gods damn it. And she was right, she didn’t have to keep paying and paying for what was surely Feyre’s momentary lapse of judgement. No matter that it was much more than that. No matter that it was haunting her, turning her life into shit.

               Because that, well that Feyre could deal with. She could deal with Tamlin ruining her life if it came to that. But her sisters… She had done too much to keep them healthy of mind and body and soul to lose them to him now. She had simply done too much. Tamlin could take her pride and her innocence and her youth, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t take her sisters.

               She knew what she had to do. Because she knew how his mind worked, knew how guys like him ticked. It was simply a matter of how to do what was necessary, because she had pushed everyone away and now… now everything had just turned to shit. And she couldn’t do this alone. She knew this now. Together we stand, alone we fall and all that shit, right?

               Right.

***

               I need a favor.

               Feyre didn’t look as Rhysand unfolded the note she threw at his desk, her rushed calligraphy shaky with the thought of what she was about to ask him. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see one groomed brow tilting upwards at the words before he wrote something down in his own notebook, ripped it out and threw it back at her.

               So, you’re talking to me, now, are you?

               Great. This was going to be phenomenal if this is how it was going to start out.

               Rhys… Just, meet me in my dorm room after class. Please.

               This time she did look. She stared deep into those violet orbs as they read the words scribbled into the note and the smirk on that exquisite face faded—just a tiny bit. Yes, they seemed to say to her. I will.

               As the bell rang, Feyre didn’t bother getting a written confirmation that Rhys would show, trusting him out of pure will. She would have to trust him, or this wouldn’t work. Or this would just crumble into dust.

               Gods, maybe she should’ve asked someone—anyone—else.

               But, alas, now it was too late for that.

And she wouldn’t regret it. This was the obvious choice. She had something with Rhys, be it something she wanted or not. And she could work with that. That spark, that flame that sprung to life every time they touched… it would save her. It would save her sisters. Because if she knew something about people like Tamlin, if she knew something about territorial, abusive bastards was that they didn’t touch what was someone else’s.

***

               “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

               Nine words. The first nine words that she said to him in weeks and they were… a mess. Gods, what was she playing at? What was she thinking? But no, she knew what she was doing, she reassured herself.

Still her gut felt like it was hanging out by a thread, and her head spun and she couldn’t think besides the feeling of second guessing every decision she had made since coming to Prythian Academy. She couldn’t help but think about how badly this could end, how incredibly wrong. Still she needed it. Needed it to work. Because if it didn’t… well, that wasn’t a choice.

               “What?” Rhys was caught between laughing and staring incredulously at her, hand messing up his blue-black hair.

               “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” She repeated, walking her way around him to sit on the bed. She patted the space next to her for him to sit down and, when he didn’t move, sighed impatiently.

               “No, I—” Rhys said. “I heard you the first time. I just can’t understand you around all the crazy of what you’re saying.”

               Feyre laughed bitterly. Rhys thought about how much it didn’t suit her, that laugh, and for a second they were just two people having a normal conversation, before he remembered what they were actually talking about. “Well, the situation is a bit… crazy. So, what is it they say?” Feyre smiled sadly. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

               “Oh? So dating me is desperate, now, is it?”

               Feyre punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes.

                 “Feyre, I—”

               “No,” She said, begging him with her eyes, all blue and sad and woeful. “Please, Rhys. I need this.”

               “But why?” Rhys finally sat down next to her, taking her hand in his, holding it tightly, like it would spill all her secrets. “What could you possibly gain from this? Everyone here at the Academy already kind of thinks of us as an Item. What could come of this?”

               Feyre sighed. “That’s just it. I need you to come home with me.”

               Rhys stared at her with his violet eyes, understanding and not. “You’re—you’re leaving?”

               Feyre sighed, looking down. This—this was where it got complicated. If this didn’t work—and she had to be practical about this, because these were her sisters and she couldn’t leave any room for the unexpected, she had to work, had to think and feel and plan strategically—well, if this didn’t work, it’d come down to Feyre going back. For good.

               She didn’t want it to come to that. She didn’t want to leave. As lonely as Prythian Academy had become, as much as she’d never wanted to come here in the first place, the thought of going home—going anywhere else besides right here, right next to this man besides her had become unbearable.

               “Yes.”

Feyre was distracted. It was all Rhysand’s fault, really. All his damn fault. His damn eyes, and his damn lips, and his damn hands. She followed the lines of his face and how the light illuminated each inch of his sun kissed skin, down to his neck, to his collarbone, to the planes of his chest and the tattoos that lay beneath his shirt just a hair’s breadth away. Her breath trembled.

“Feyre?” He said, waving a hand in front of her face, startling her out of her reverie.

“Sorry,” Feyre sounded sheepish, almost shy as she blushed deep red, betrayed by her own thoughts. Her feelings were everywhere, it seemed. Splattered out into the world and crashed into nothingness, leaving her feeling empty and full all at once. She felt so afraid. For her, for her heart—for Rhys.

               “When do we leave?” Rhysand asked. It was the first confirmation he’d given her that he’d actually go, and she could’ve sworn she had actually felt her heart skip a beat. So selfless, this man. So—giving. He had asked her nothing in return as she told her the story of her life with Tamlin. How they had met—in a school camp out in eighth grade—and fallen deeply in love, and how that had been lovely and warm and good for a while. And how bitter it had all become, how sad.

               She smiled, “Next weekend,” grabbing both his hands in hers, she squeezed them tightly before saying, “You have no idea how much this means to me, Rhys. I won’t forget this.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, refused to let him see just how much he could affect her. “Thank you.”

               “I would go to the stars and back for you, Feyre Archeron.” He simply answered. “This is nothing.”

***

               The week went by without much incident. Feyre wished she could somehow apologize to Mor, but she didn’t know how—didn’t know what to say, how to say it. She was just lost, broken. And perhaps it was just too late. Mor had opened up to her and she had closed down. She had shut her out completely, and for what? The fear, constant and unwavering, of being hurt, of hurting, of everything in between. Feyre had been a terrible friend, and she knew it.

               It was Saturday morning when Feyre decided that she had to put an end to this. She could not stand the silence anymore. This room, their room, had been a safe haven for so long and now—now it was a cage. It contained her, it provided her with a place to hide and sleep and draw but she could no longer be happy in it, no longer laugh or share any sort fond memories here.

               So as she prepared for the day, hauling a simple red sweater and ripped jeans over her head, and put on some mascara and red lipstick, Feyre made a decision. Today, she was ending this miserable phase of her life, be it for good or for bad.

               She shook Mor awake. It was early, earlier than her roommate would probably like to be woken up on a Saturday, but she didn’t have much time before she had to leave for her trip with Rhysand and she had to do this before she left—had to, or she wouldn’t have the strength, wouldn’t have the courage to do what was necessary. You see, your courage didn’t lie in your actions, not really. You gathered it up in every one of your bonds, be it with family or friends or lovers. That’s what gave you courage.

               “Mor,” Feyre said, a hand on her friend’s shoulder. One brown eye opened to look at her sleepily, brow furrowing. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

               “Feyre?” Mor wiped a hand over her face, blinking the sleep away. She sat up in bed, stretching her arms and back, looking at Feyre confusedly. “What is it? Are you okay?”

               “Oh—yeah. I’m fine.” Feyre didn’t know what to say now. Mor was still looking at her with a confused look in her eyes, like Feyre had grown an extra head. It was weird, for Feyre to wake her like this, after weeks and weeks of silence and avoidance, she knew. But she also knew that her roommate deserved this, even if she didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Mor deserved so much better than her, so much more. “It’s, um—can we talk?”

               “Um, sure,” Mor patted the place on the bed next to her. “What is it?”

               “I wanted to talk to you before I left…” Feyre sat down, wondering what on Earth she could say to make this better, what she could say that wouldn’t sound completely selfish and cruel and self-centered. She came up with nothing. Eventually, she said, “I’m so sorry I’ve been distant. I—I was trying to protect myself, and you, and everyone, but I just made a mess of things.”

               Mor put a hand over hers. “Feyre,” she looked into her blue eyes, trying to capture some semblance of meaning in those words, trying to understand. “We would never hurt you, not on purpose anyway. And don’t you know by now?”

               “What?”

               “Sometimes, the ride is worth the risk of getting hurt.”

***

               The drive home went smoothly.

               Feyre had met Rhys outside the gates of Prythian Academy since, for once, she did not feel like meeting everyone for breakfast. Patching things up with Mor had gone okay, great even, but it was all she could take for one day, she guessed. She had texted him and gone outside, barefoot once more, to feel the wind on her skin, the earth on her feet, the sun on her face.

               She was happy right now. Right now—because time, for her, was a very fragile thing. At any moment things could change. And they probably would, too. She just hoped it was for the better.

               Feyre hadn’t explained to Mor what exactly her and Rhys were going to be doing. She could only guess her roommate would be questioning him at breakfast, and hoped he wouldn’t say anything too incriminating. She couldn’t take it if she knew how dangerous her situation was—Mor knew about Tamlin, about how he had treated her, or rather, mistreated her, and how he still thought she was something of his to just take as he pleased. And her friends, well… if she knew her friends, she knew that they would stop at nothing to keep her from going home when she didn’t want to. Because they were good people, and that’s just what good people did, even when the people they did it for didn’t really deserve it.

               She didn’t say much to Rhys as he arrived, hurrying inside the car for the long journey back home. But she wondered if he had told their friends about what they would be doing, what lay ahead for them. It would be easy to ask him, to just say the words, but the silence was so welcoming, so simple that she did not dare break it.

               “Penny for your thoughts?” Rhysand’s eyes were on the road ahead, his voice low and smooth, like a stream of warm water.

               Feyre blinked, shaken out of her reverie. She’d been watching the plains of trees outside the window, how they blurred into splashes of greens and browns and blacks, doing anything she could to ignore the warmth that radiated from the man beside her. The smell of citrus and the sea. And the thoughts that seemed to plague her mind, those dangerous, betraying thoughts of how those arms had felt wrapped around her, how those lips had touched and burned and kissed, how those hands had marked her. “Oh,” she tried to think of what to say, what to do besides tell him the truth, and came up with nothing. Eventually, she said, “I was just thinking—I haven’t told you much about my sisters. I think I should prep you for this meeting.”

               “I need… prepping?” he smirked, aware of her blush, and put a hand on top of hers. “I’m kidding. Prep me up, darling.”

               “Prick.” Feyre laughed. She slapped his shoulder playfully, rolling her eyes. But her mind was reeling, wondering how to do this, how to begin explaining things. Her relationship with her sisters was so—complicated. So strained. And she didn’t want his pity, and didn’t want him to think she didn’t love them or that they didn’t love her either. They did, they all did. It was just—complex. And weird. And hard.

               Relationships, Feyre had come to realize, took work. Especially when the people in question didn’t fully trust you with their heart. And Nesta—well, Nesta didn’t trust anyone with her heart, not even her own sister. There was only one person that truly had hold of her soul, and that was Elain.

               But even with Elain’s help and the years of building up trust, after Tamlin, there was too much anger, too much disappointment, too many secrets between them. You see, for Nesta, there was no such thing as water under the bridge. And she wished she could fix this, she wished Elain could stop walking on eggshells and Nesta could stop her quiet bravado, but there was nothing she could do. Nesta wouldn’t listen, not to words or promises. But actions—well, actions were another thing.

               And that was her plan. Not only to stop Tamlin—though, that was the most important part. But these months of being alone at the Academy had taught her one thing, and that was that alone, she was nothing. She was just a shell of a girl. Without friends, without family, without the loving of those around her, she didn’t have a reason to live at all.

               So, yes, she did want to scare Tamlin away. But her plan, well, it consisted of more than that. She wanted to show Nesta that she was not weak, she was no longer the girl Tamlin had strung along and hurt and fucked up, over and over and over. She was her own woman, she was strong and smart and worth something. She had friends that would fight for her, friends that would be with her as she fought for herself—friends that would even pretend for her, it seemed.

               And it didn’t matter that Tamlin still haunted her, it didn’t matter that everything he did and everything that happened the following months was still embedded deep within her, because she was all the more valiant for it. All the anxiety it had caused was just a misfortune of fate. And she would show them, she would show them all.

***

               It was about midday when Rhysand pulled up at the Archeron driveway. He stretched his neck to look at the house, his violet eyes focusing on the creamy walls and clear windows of the property.

               On the drive here, Feyre’d told him everything there was to know about her sisters. He categorized what she’d told him, or, at least, what he’d gotten from it. Elain Archeron—sweet and gentle, worked at a dog pound and could always be found gardening. Nesta Archeron—hard as steel, cold as ice, book andstreet smart.

               He was not sure he was ready to meet them. The people that had so completely undone Feyre, the people that had told her she was not enough, that she was entirely to blame for whatever mistakes she had made in the past. But he had to do it. For Feyre, for himself, for a future where her family was united and strong. So he said, “You ready?” He looked at Feyre, violet eyes flashing with emotion.

               Feyre took a deep breath, looking at the house where she had grown up, where so many memories and so many emotions had occurred. She blinked, “Y—yeah.”

               He seemed to read the nervousness in her eyes, the tremble in her voice, because he put a hand on top of hers as he said, “It’s going to be fine, Feyre.”

               “No, I—I know.” Feyre shook her head, seeming to shake away some kind of thought as well, and he didn’t think he should ask what had been on her mind. Her eyes looked sad, forlorn. Like she had been remembering a life not so long ago.

               Rhys sighed, stroking her hand before he let it go, moving out of the car and around it to open her door for her. “Milady,”

               “Thank you,” she said, trying to ignore the feeling that swept over her when he called her ‘milady’, as if she were his, as if she were more than just a girl that had nothing at all to offer him other than hurt and poor excuses and unhappiness.

               As they walked to the door, Feyre’s hands trembling with nervousness. He grabbed a hold of her hand, squeezing it tight in his own. “Hey,” he said, “It’s okay.”

               She nodded, taking another deep breath before moving forward and into the doorway. “Are you sure you want to involve your sisters in this lie?” he finally said, before Feyre could ring the doorbell. “It’d be easier to just tell them we were involved as well.”

               She seemed to think it over, even though they’d talked about it before, but eventually said, “No, I—I want them to know the truth.” She looked at their hands as if she were about to let go of his, but, for his surprise and wonderment, didn’t. “There’s too much between us—between Nesta and Elain and me, for me to lie to them. They’re my sisters, Rhys. As easy as it would be to just lie, I need them to support me.”

               It was his turn to nod.

               Feyre rang the doorbell, squeezing his hand for reassurance. “Just a minute!” comes a voice from inside that she recognized as her sister’s. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a breathless Elain, holding her cat, White Socks, in her hands. She smiled widely and said, “Feyre!”

               “Hello, Elain.”

***

               Feyre could tell how uncomfortable Rhysand was.

Nesta held him under an unwavering stare, eyes steely and cold. “So,” she said, moving her gaze to his hand, currently intertwined with her sister’s for some kind of comfort in this strange, somewhat hostile situation. “You’re not together?”

“That’s right.” Rhys answered, all business. Feyre squeezed his hand, as if to say Relax, you’re safe, and nodded her agreement to her sister. Nesta didn’t seem much convinced, not with their weird displays of affection, but then again, nobody ever was. They had a—special connection. A bond that most people would think went beyond friendship and maybe—maybe it did. But it didn’t exactly mean the opposite either. They weren’t lovers, weren’t anything but two people who would fight for each other no matter what, even if it meant that they wouldn’t be together at the end of the day.

“You seem pretty chummy to me.” Nesta drawled out, eyes still on their hands.

Feyre sighed, letting go of her friend’s hand to bury her face in it for a moment. She recomposed herself as she said, “Look, Nesta,” she looked at Rhys for support, and he smiled encouragingly at her. “The situation is this—Tamlin won’t ever stop. He won’t ever give up chasing after me, not while he thinks I’m still his.” She gave her friend a little grateful smile, because she was so thankful, so incredibly thankful that he had agreed to do this. “And that’s why Rhys is here. My relationship with him has nothing to do with it.”

Nesta snorted deprecatingly before saying, “So you admit,” she drawled, “There is a relationship?” her gaze was studious, as if she wanted to pick apart any and all information she could from the sight before her. But there was nothing to see, nothing to discover—was there?

No, Feyre was clear on one thing and that was that her relationship with Rhys was just friendship and nothing more, no matter her feelings. No matter how much she—no. She wouldn’t go there.

Feyre sighed once more, exasperated. “No,” she ground out. “Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying at all?”

“Fine.” Nesta moved her gaze to Rhys again, exploring the planes of his face with that careful mistrust, “And you?” she asked. “What’s in this for you?”

“I’m sorry?” he spluttered, looking at Feyre for help, unsure of what to say, how to explain that while for her there was nothing in this, no feelings, no relationship, no love—well, for him it was different. Rhysand was deeply embedded in his friend’s life, for better or for worse and he wished, oh, how he wished, there was more for them, and he would do anything for her. He loved her, he was in love with her, he had fallen and she had not caught him, but that was okay, too, because he was more than equipped to deal with pain.

“Well,” Nesta said, studying him once more, that fatal curiosity filling her steely eyes. “You come here to help us having nothing offered to you other than friendship. What is your angle here?”

“I think you undervalue your sister.” He said, sounding angrier than he’d intended. He figured it just got to him, seeing the very people who were supposed to protect and provide a home for Feyre treat her with such disregard, but he knew it wasn’t his place to judge. He’d come to help, to make amends between them, not to harm their relationship further. “I do what I must to keep my friend where she wants to be.”

“Can I—” Elain finally quipped up from where she sat at the end of the living room, propped up on a chair with White Socks on her lap. “Feyre, why don’t you just come home? You didn’t even want to go there in the first place—you say you want to keep her where she wants to be, but isn’t that with us?”

               It seemed to pain Feyre to answer the question, seemed to burn her with every breath she took, but she gathered herself up and said, “I wish—I wish that I wanted to come home. But home, for me, home is elsewhere now.” She begged her sister to understand with her blue, deep eyes, and continued, “I didn’t want it to be like this. When I first went to the Academy, I thought it was going to be hell. But I found the best friends I could ever wish for and—Elain, I can’t begin to explain or apologize or—”

               “Then don’t.” Nesta interrupted, softer this time. “Just—fix this.”

***

               “Are you sure about this?”

               Feyre couldn’t think. Not with him standing so close to her, not with the smell of him, the citrus and the sea, the overwhelming sureness that this was wrong, so wrong, yet—it just felt right. Rhysand let out a breath, leaning over to put a hand on the tree trunk behind her as she stepped back, not allowing her an inch of detachment from him. She could almost laugh at the irony, almost feel the mockery of how alike this was from the first time they had kissed. It mimicked the very surroundings, the feel of the bark against her skin, the wet grass under her feet, the warmth of his body against hers.

               “Yes,” she couldn’t look away, couldn’t keep her eyes from his violet orbs, staring at her with a hunger she almost wished she didn’t know. This is just for show, this is just for show, she reminded herself over and over, gulping. “I’m sure.”

               Rhysand nodded, finally looking away to the building in front of the small park they stood in. “When does he get off again?”

               Feyre exhaled shakily, feeling weak in the presence of him, feeling like she could not stand on her own, without the tree, without his arm around her middle, without the grass supporting her up. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of him—as if that were possible. She’d been trying for months now. Sighing, she took her phone off her back pocket and checked the time. “In about five minutes.”

               He nodded again, still looking at the building.

               It was a law firm, one of those that never did pro-bono jobs unless they had to because that never led to any “progress” for the firm. Or, as Rhys liked to call them, douchebags in suits. Feyre had explained to him that Tamlin’s father had worked there all his life and finally bought out a part of the company a few years back. He’d wanted his only son to continue his work once he retired and so, he’d managed to get him an internship. At the time, Feyre’d found it wonderful.

               But that’s when it’d started.

               Tamlin’d screw up or drink too much with his office buddies and his father, being the proper, old style kind of guy he was, thought he could beat it out of him. He’d changed so much in a matter of months. Become hollow, and angry, and sad. And then there had been the drinking.

               Tamlin had never been one to drink too much. He’d liked beer, sure, but never gone for vodka or anything like that. But afterwards, Feyre would find him outside her house with a bottle of scotch, mumbling about how much he loved her and how she could never leave him and how he would tear apart anyone that dared come between them.

               After a while it started to scare her. And she tried to break things off, she did. But he just kept coming around and calling and making these damn threats and promises that she wasn’t sure he would keep and was honestly scared he would because he had become scary and she was now so unsure of how exactly she had fallen for him. But she knew, she knew that this—this was a different person than she had once knew. Occasion and fate and terrible choices had made him into a monster and she did not deserve him. Not anymore. Or maybe—maybe she did, because she didn’t help, either. She’d just run, scared. She didn’t call the cops when she’d seen the scars or the bruises on him, she didn’t do a thing.

               “Feyre?” Rhys’ voice shook her out of her reverie. She noticed how wet her eyes had become, and shame swept over her. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. Not right now—not ever. “Hey, it’s okay.”

               “I know,” She shook her head, “I just—I wish I could just forget all this.” Feyre sighed, wiping at her eyes, before saying, “It’s fine.”

               “No, it’s not fine,” he said, hand coming up to cup her face. He stroked her cheek gently, like he was going to lean in and kiss her at any moment, but just whispered. “You don’t deserve to suffer. You don’t deserve to have your past follow you around wherever you go.” Rhys pressed a kiss to her cheek, sending shivers down her spine. Because this, this wasn’t for show. This was the two of them—the two of them against the world. “You are a bird that’s forgotten how to fly, Feyre Archeron. And we will set you free.”

               “Here he comes.” She whispered, a hair’s breadth from his lips.

               Rhys studied her face, looking for any trace of doubt, of fear, of second guessing. She tried to convey certainty, but she could only guess her eyes were as sad as she felt as he hesitated.

               She wasn’t sad for herself. She wasn’t unsure or confused or afraid. In fact, she wanted this, and her reasons for wanting it were quite selfish. But she knew how much it would hurt him, how much it would mean to him to have her and then not.

               And yes, Feyre knew how self-centered that sounded, but that was simply true. She was aware of his loyalty and his affections for her. And that’s what made this that much harder. To dangle herself in front of someone who could never have her. At least, not while she was so broken. So sad, so unbelievably unfixable.

               She glanced at the man approaching, tall and blonde and muscular. Before Tamlin could notice her looking, she turned back to Rhys, cupping his face, putting a strand of hair behind his ear. “It’s okay, Rhys.” She said, resting her forehead against his and closing her eyes, breathing deep. She took in the intoxicating smell of him, the warmth of his body, the solid feel of him against her as she added, “Set me free.”

               And then, it was just the feel of lips against lips, their tongues clashing and claiming, and the taste of each other, the touch of his hands to her hips and neck as he pushed her against the tree trunk, the pulsating heat of their bodies as they moved ever so slightly. She forgot where she was, who she was, why she was here. She forgot just why—why on earth this couldn’t be.

               Rhys let one hand wander under her sweater, feeling the warm, creamy skin beneath, and Feyre let out a low moan. As another mimicked action from the night in the woods, she came up for air and he didn’t stop kissing her, trailing a line down her throat, to her neck, to her collarbone. He licked upward and nibbled on her ear and Feyre giggled—a strange new sound. “Ticklish,” she whispered, smile visible in her voice.

               He just engulfed her in another kiss, biting down her bottom lip, running his tongue through her teeth, the roof of her mouth. She had to remind herself that they were in public, that they were here for a purpose besides this—whatever this was. Because she was not sure it was a ruse anymore at all. And maybe it hadn’t been for a while now. Maybe she felt for him, maybe—

               “What the hell is going on here?”

               Feyre pulled back as if burned, Tamlin’s very voice scaring her beyond measure. But she wasn’t paying attention to him at all, didn’t care for once that he was here because the man before her, because Rhys, still had his arms around her and his eyes on her lips and—

               She almost gasped as the realization ran through her, as it hit her.

               Feyre was in love with him.

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[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 2nd December 2018

Finally, we’ve gotten to December – this’ll be a busy month for me considering all the end-of-year lists and such, but it’s also the holiday season, so let’s look at how the charts reflect that jolly spirit? Oh, a new 6ix9ine song? Okay, well, we’ll get to that in a bit. Welcome to REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Top 10

Staying at the top for a fourth week today is “thank u, next” by Ariana Grande, which has recently been knocked off in the US by “SICKO MODE”, but it’s still reigning pretty strong here.

The runner-up spot hasn’t shifted either, as “Woman Like Me” by Little Mix featuring Nicki Minaj is still at number-two.

Actually moving this week, however, is “Thursday” by Jess Glynne, up only one space whilst still entering the top 3 at number-three.

Also climbing this week is “Without Me” by Halsey, now at number-four after a two-spot increase.

Unfortunately, this means “Shallow” by Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper has suffered, being pushed down two spaces since last week to number-five.

At number-six, after an initial surge due to TikTok and Snapchat, we have Ava Max somewhat proving longevity here with her first ever UK Top 10 hit, up seven spots from last week, “Sweet but Psycho”. Congratulations.

“Funky Friday” by Dave and Fredo hasn’t moved at number-seven.

“ZEZE” by Kodak Black, Travis Scott and Offset is actually up two spots to number-eight this week. “Guess we all made for each other”, whatever that means in the context of the song – listen, I reviewed the song in full and any time I’ve heard it since have felt like A-level physics tests, without any equation sheets.

“Sunflower” by Post Malone and Swae Lee from the Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse soundtrack is down a spot to number-nine.

Finally, to round off our top 10, Freya Ridings’ “Lost without You” is down a space to #10.

Climbers

Surprisingly on this slow week, we have quite a handful here. George Ezra’s “Hold My Girl” is obviously up eight spaces after the single push to #25, nearby “Baby” by Clean Bandit featuring Marina and Luis Fonsi up six spots to #26 – which will also get the album boost next week. “Mo Bamba” by Sheck Wes continues to rise ten positions to #27 (and I couldn’t be happier for it), while “I Found You” by benny blanco and Calvin Harris is up 11 spaces, taking me by surprise to #29. I didn’t necessarily think this would catch on that well, but I guess clubs are interested so I’m not going to be complaining – I like the song.

Fallers

Wow, we have much less of these than I expected. I knew it was a slow week but most slow weeks at least come with a lot more fallers than gains, yet we just have a spoonful. “Let You Love Me” by Rita Ora gets its streaming cut that takes it down nine or so pegs to #14, while The Greatest Showman hype dies down for P!nk’s “A Million Dreams” and James Arthur and Anne-Marie’s “Rewrite the Stars”, down five and one positions respectively at #16 and #17 – this isn’t happening soon enough, frankly. Since “Back and Forth” by MK, Jonas Blue and Becky Hill couldn’t possibly have a streaming cut, I’m just going to assume it absolutely collapsed this week down a whopping 23 spots to #37. Yikes.

Dropouts

“Leave a Light On” by Tom Walker drops out again from its #36 return last week, while of course “Broken Homes” by Nafe Smallz, M Huncho and Gunna is out from #38 as that type of grime-trap never does all too well unless it’s named after a Cadbury chocolate apparently. “Strip” by Little Mix featuring Sharaya J is also unfortunately out from #25, whilst the hilariously awful “No Stylist” by French Montana featuring Drake is taken with it from #22. “The Greatest Show” covered by Panic! at the Disco is also expectedly out from #39, but otherwise that’s all. Now, let’s get to the bigger story.

Returning Entries

Okay, cool, “Remember Us This Way” by Lady Gaga is back at #39, “Goodbye” by Jason Derulo and David Guetta featuring Nicki Minaj and Willy William is back at #40, but the main headline is of course going to be the start of the influx of Christmas music. While I may need to deal with more of this when I potentially change the format next year, we still get enough in the top 40 over December so I apologise for the Returning Entries sections eventually becoming smaller and more monotonous as we go on – naturally by two years we won’t have any returning entries we haven’t talked about, other than special occasions like “Three Lions”, so this December month is pretty much the end of this section and also the start of me attempting to review Christmas music, which is harder than you think. While “Fairytale of New York” is at #66 and “Last Christmas” is at #52, the one that reigns over all, and is currently already at #14 in the US, is this classic.

#34 – “All I Want for Christmas is You” – Mariah Carey

Well, this is one of the first times on the show I’ve reviewed both Christmas music and one of my favourite songs of all time. There’s something in the joy of those twinking bells and synths, Mariah’s sweet yet powerful delivery and most importantly the freaking sleigh bells, that make me want to involuntarily smile. The lyrics are simplistic yet they’re now just iconic, aren’t they? If you haven’t sung the chorus to this song, and you have a working voice-box, I doubt you’ve lived through even one Christmas. It’s not like the verses are anything to scoff at, either, hell, the bridge is arguably where Mariah really excels, especially with the male choir behind her providing some vocalisation that really has that carol feeling to it, especially with the main reason this song is so fantastic, other than the choirs, other than Mariah Carey being the vocal powerhouse she is (seriously, that final chorus is transcendent), and other than the joyful vibe, those sleigh bells combined with the driving percussion which just give the song such a punch that you need for a Christmas song to work as well as they can when you do them right. Even if Mariah Carey flops for the rest of her career, she’ll always be making bank out of this timeless tune which I hope stays for more than a while during the holiday season. Sadly, I can’t give this Best of the Week, but you’re damn sure I would if I had that choice. Sadly, not all of our Christmas returning entries will be this good over the weeks, although I’m sure this entirely makes up for it.

NEW ARRIVALS

Now you’ve got in that festive mood, how about we kiss under the mistletoe to aggressive trap-rap about gang violence? It’s that time of the year again.

#38 – “KIKA” – 6ix9ine featuring Tory Lanez

Listen, I don’t want to seem like I enjoy 6ix9ine’s music or defend his actions. He deserves that 25-to-life sentence, he’s an awful human being and most of his music reflects that in every way. If I really had the strength in me, I’d do what I did with “FEFE” and just ignore it completely, instead talking about 6ix9ine’s legal troubles, but this is Tory Lanez’s first ever UK Top 40 (and 6ix9ine’s third) so I don’t want to seem disrespectful to Tory, hell, he’s easily the best part of the song... which, yet again, I hate to admit, I like quite a bit.

The beat here really reminds me of the tropical trap stuff like “ZEZE”, and just like that song, Tory Lanez doesn’t let the melody go any further than a few seconds before he hops in for the hook, which is insanely catchy and I do like the dude’s voice, so he can pull off lines that may seem cliché like “I do my own stunts, Jackie Chan with it” with enough charisma, but then 6ix9ine comes in and just interrupts Tory with some repetitive, mindless bars that reek of “I wrote this in two minutes”, but it’s over quick and we do get a pretty funny reference to Bobby Schmurda’s hat, so we can quickly get to the kick that builds into the great hook again, hell, and in the second verse, after Tekashi steals a Lil Pump line (seriously?) and claims that he’s on some “Ray Charles, John Cena s**t” because he “can’t see the b****”, which is actually hilarious, Tory interrupts 6ix9ine in return with an admittedly funny skit with him replacing “TR3WAY”, a word 6ix9ine cannot legally say anymore despite his catchphrase “it’s f***in’ TR3WAY!”, with other words such as the Trojan brand of condoms, and the American chain Target, before bursting into laughter. Uh, yeah, I’m hesitant but this is a good ‘un, despite its many, many charming flaws – it’s clearly supposed to be funny, so that’s how I’m enjoying it.

Oh, and my friend Prez wanted me to talk about “WAKA” and while I do love A Boogie wit da Hoodie’s singing voice here, with a pretty catchy hook, I’m not sure how I feel about the song in general. The beat has a pretty intense string melody which I can dig, with Boogie actually developing a story which is interesting enough, until 6ix9ine literally shoots the song up, with gunshot and explosion effects that’d make you think he’s Joe Budden, but his part isn’t that awful and it’s insanely short because he’s the feature on his own album for the most part, so, yeah, this is a damn good Boogie song with a few intrusions from the Skittles-man. If we had a version without Tekashi, I’d like it even more.

#20 – “AirForce” – Digdat

Who’s Digdat? Good question. How did his first ever single debut in the top 20? I don’t know, but congratulations, I guess. Since I’ve looked more into British hip-hop, I actually recognised the name but didn’t know much about his particular brand of reggae or pop-infused grime-trap, so I did some research, and yeah he’s pretty okay, albeit a tad boring, so I didn’t expect him to get a hit on his own – and that’s because he didn’t. This song charted because of a remix from much bigger grime duo Krept & Konan, but since that has less streams, we’re talking about the original, and again while I appreciate the dark string-based production and Digdat’s blunt and fast delivery, it’s a bit too generic, I’m sorry. There’s too much bass here that overpowers the actual beat, and the first minute essentially being a bunch of synth-air with producer tags is a bit of an odd choice. The beat is pretty good but the mixing somewhat ruins it, but not enough to be all that noticeable. It just rounds out to a perfect, balanced, “I don’t care”. Hope Digdat gets some more recognition after this, though, the dude has potential.

Conclusion

I don’t feel like I can really give Digdat a Dishonourable Mention or Worst of the Week, but “KIKA” is just clearly so much better, so yeah, Best of the Week goes to Tory Lanez, whilst I don’t think I can really be that mean to DIgdat, so he gets Honourable Mention for “AirForce”. See ya next week, when I’m guessing there will be an influx of Christmas music!