#{forgive the lateness; long threads are a-ok}

[madlori]

Ok, 8x06 spec

Now that my heart rate has somewhat returned to normal, here's my thoughts on what's gonna go down in two weeks.

The way Oliver's spoken about whatever speedbump he and Tommy are about to encounter makes it sound like Buck sort of creates the crisis in his own mind. He talks about how Buck can get up in his own head a bit, and spiral about things. That is also very in character for Buck. Heck, he did that when Tommy was hanging out with Eddie.

This makes me think that whatever he finds out about Tommy's past, it's not going to be something that makes him think "Do I want to be in a relationship with this person," but more like "Does this person want to be in a relationship with ME?"

(Also, after 8x05 it's very clear what kind of person the show is writing Tommy to be, so I doubt they'd have some revelation come out that reflects poorly on him)

Given we've been told that Buck works this out with the help of Maddie and Josh, this makes me think that whatever he learns about Tommy has to do with his past relationships, or his identity as a gay man. Suggestions have been made that they run into an ex of Tommy's, who makes Buck feel inadequate. Or that Tommy HAS no exes, and Buck is his first serious relationship, which makes Buck feel the pressure of being that first one. I particularly liked a suggestion that Tommy had a long term relationship end not too long ago, not by his choice, and Buck worries he's a rebound or a consolation prize.

The common thread here is that he learns something about Tommy's past that is not in and of itself bad, but it sends Buck on a doomscroll in his brain. That's very Buck, and something he'd need to be talked off the ledge about, and Maddie's his go-to person for that - the addition of Josh implies the need for a gay man to weigh in.

I've had the thought that it might be connected to Buck's evolving concept of his own sexuality, but it's hard to imagine something he could learn about Tommy that would spur that kind of introspection, I mean, he already knows that he was closeted until fairly late in life. Not ruling that out, though.

The bottom line is that I don't think this is going to be a revelation that's going to have Tommy crying mea culpa and Buck deciding whether or not to forgive or overlook some troubling transgression. That feels out of step with how they're approaching this. I think it's much more likely that it's something Buck turns into an issue inside his head, and through them talking about it, they'll be able to reach a new level of commitment to each other.

[starsofang]

I'm late to commenting this chapter, but I spent all the day sleeping because I needed to catch up on sleep since I wake at 05:30 in the morning for school, but here I am.

Girl, I don't care what anyone says. Your dialogue is art, and your banter is the best. The first scene talking with Soap was amazing, like it feels so natural the way they talk.

Ok, so Gaz, I was kicking my feet in the air and twirling my hair with my finger during all his part, like, you can't throw “So, I have read them right, then.” at me and expect me to act normally afterwards. “You have never been kissed before?” No... 🫣 but you could be my first, you know... “I will not avoid you, I do not think I have the strength to do so, anyway. Not with you.” Girl, that's a fact. How can anyone avoid him? If you do it, you deserve to go to jail.

And Price, oh Gods Price. All the teasing banter between him and Y/N was sublime, but the “That is… understandable. Forgive me, I have not had a woman on my ship until you." so I'm the first you brought here? Am I special? You haven't had a woman in your cuartes for a long time..? But what killed me was the “I may prefer it, actually.” I CAN'T, WHAT, LIKE, I'M FOAMING AT MY MOUTH LIKE A RAVID ANIMAL PRICE JUST TAKE ME HERE, but no cute scene because Soap needed to interrupt. Angie, please just a kiss scene or a confession of love or interest or something I'm begging you give us some crumbs at least 😭

We didn't had any Ghost interactions but I'm manifesting that in the next chapter he is going to be overly protective with the reader and we are going to have a really cute scene with him because "you can hear Graves talking to you in your head and is my fault" but Y/N is going to say that it isn't and all that, please, I just want a cute scene just one don't do take it away from us.

Oh, oh, and to finish a fun fact about pirates. This one may help you in writing your next chapter. Pirate ships were smaller, so they would be easier to turn around to be able to capture bigger ships. And now that I think about it if the 141 only has 4 members their ship should be a lot smaller than the normal pirate ship in order to be able to run it with that little people so Graves is at a disadvantage in this one (I suppose he has a bigger crew and therefore a bigger ship).

This one is just for the funsies. Pirates' favourite drink was called Grog which is a mix of rum, water, lemon juice, and sugar. The water was warm because it had been previously been boiled to kill the vacteria, then you put the rum in the warm water -it killed germs and made the water taste better- then the lemon juice to prevent scurvy and the sugar so it tasted better. It really didn't make you drunk because the rum was diluated in water, and it was rationalise in the ship.

Sorry for the long fun facts, but finally, I have somewhere to share them 🩵

i hope you rested well pookie you deserve it 😙

you don’t understand how hard it is to not make gaz and reader just make out already it’s so difficult, the tension is THERE and i’m over here making gaz hang by a thread. it pains ME just as much but I NEED TO DO IT, i’m a sucker for a bit of angst and misunderstanding. same with price, i want them to just 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 but it’s fun in the moment making it not happen

ghost scene is soon! ik my man hasn’t been around but it’s a build up and finally, it’s gonna happen. i plan on making the next chapter the longest one so i can get a lot of shit done, and there’s just SO much needing to be said so look forward to it 😙

also, hope you know i will most likely be using that now somewhere in the fic. i LOVE hearing your facts, you can always come here to tell me about them and i will love every single one and i’d love to incorporate them in the fic

MWAH ILY

[ejzah]

And it Could All Come Crumbling Down, Part 2

***

“We’re here,” Deeks announced softly. They’d actually been parked for a minute or so, but Rosa hadn’t reacted at all, her gaze focused on the opposite window. Deeks nudged her now, and she startled slightly, but didn’t turn away.

“I don’t want to do this,” she said. In the weak reflection of the window, he saw her eyes were wide and scared.

Kensi reached between the console to wrap her arm around Rosa’s shoulders. Rosa looked so young at the moment, worried and uncertain, seeking comfort.

“I know,” Kensi murmured, radiating compassion and protectiveness. “I know this is extremely hard, but Deeks and I will be there the whole time.” The effect her touch had on Rosa was immediate; she instantly relaxed slightly, her spine less rigid as she reached to grip Kensi’s hand.

“And the first sign that there’s anything wrong, we will hightail it out of there,” Deeks added.

“And you’re sure she can’t make me move in with her instead or anything like that,” Rosa checked.

“Absolutely.” Deeks nodded. He’d spent hours consulting with a friend who specialized in difficult adoptions and stayed late conducting his own research to make sure their bases were covered. “As long as we make a good effort to meet your aunt’s request, legally there shouldn’t be a question of kinship. Especially since you’ve made your preference known.”

Rosa turned to Deeks, searching his face, and Deeks was once again reminded just how much she’d been through in her young life. He hoped that this experience didn’t add any further weight to her shoulders.

She nodded, gripping each other their hands. “Ok.”

Together, they got out, stopping for a second in front of the small square house sandwiched with a tiny strip of grass between and each neighboring home. From the outside, it looked aged, but well-kept and neat.

“You ready?” Deeks checked as they hesitated outside the front door.

“Yeah.”

The woman who answered the door was short, perhaps late 50s, and with a thick plait of silver threaded black hair that reached almost to her waist. Based on how quickly she’d opened the door, Deeks suspected she’d been waiting there for them.

She stood frozen for a second, eyes roving over Rosa.

“Hi, I’m Marty, and this is my wife Kensi,” Deeks said, gesturing between them. “And of course, you know Rosa.”

“Oh yes, forgive me.” She pressed a hand to the center of her chest. “I’m Andrea, please come in.”

She ushered them through the door and into a small sitting room which contained a couch and a couple cushioned chairs.

Rosa squeezed herself between Kensi and Deeks on the couch. Andrea pulled one of the chairs forward, gaze barely leaving Rosa. She leaned forward, fingers a tangled knot in her last.

“It’s good to see you again, Rosa. The last time I saw you, you were just a little girl,” she said.

“I remember,” Rosa responded softly. “Not too much, but I know you always brought me candy and you would play with me on the floor.” She hadn’t told them that before and Deeks had never been more proud of her for making the effort. Even though he felt the subtle tremor vibrating through her arm against his.

Andrea’s face lit up with delight, then quickly, then regret. “You were always such a sweetheart. I’m sorry I couldn’t be in your life more. I feel I have missed so much.”

“Why didn’t you then?” Rosa asked. “Why did you leave?”

“Your father and I had a fight.” Andrea shook her head. “It seems silly now, but we argued and refused to speak to each other ever again. After a few years, I had the opportunity to come to the US and I took it.” She rubbed at her wrists anxiously. “Over the years, I just didn’t know how to break the silence. Until now.”

“I’m curious how you found out about us adopting Rosa,” Kensi said. “We were told that there weren’t any other family members besides Rosa’s other aunt.”

“No, I suppose they wouldn’t have found me since I changed my last name after I became a citizen. I only kept contact with Marcela. She told me when you came to live with her Rosa, and then when she had her stroke, she mentioned there was a couple who wanted adopt you.”

“You could have said something then.” Despite her earlier concern, she sounded hurt.

Andrea gave them a pleading look. “I was afraid of how you would react after so long. I’ve spent months going back and forth trying to decide if I should reach out. I’m glad I did.” She held Rosa’s gaze for several seconds, warm and caring.

Deeks cleared his throat, hating to ruin the moment, but needing to be upfront from the beginning. For all of their sakes.

“I have to ask, what exactly are you hoping for from reuniting with Rosa?”

“I want to get to know her again.” She smiled at Rosa, then at Kensi and Deeks. “And to see for myself what Marcela told me about you Mr. and Mrs. Deeks. She said you were kind, and loving, and wanted nothing but the best for Rosa. Just from knowing you a few moments, I can see that’s all true.”

“I appreciate that. We want what’s best for Rosa, and to support what she acts too,” Kensi said. “So, it’s her decision how far this goes.”

Rosa was silent for several moment, then lifted her head, sitting straight and tall again. “I would like to get to get to know you again too,” she decided.

Andrea made a small sound, covering her mouth with her hand. She reached towards Rosa as if to give her a hug, then seemed to think better of it, and covered her hand instead.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She then squeezed Kensi and Deeks’ hands. “And thank you, Marty and Kensi. For giving me this opportunity.

Beside him, Rosa leaned into his shoulder. He saw her wipe a tear from her cheek, even as she smiled.

***

A/N: I hope this came out alright. I’m trying to navigate this scenario very carefully, while still stay faithful to what I think Rosa would feel given her recent past and newfound stability.

I couldn’t recall if the aunt Rosa lived with briefly had a name, so I gave her one.

[plan-d-to-i]

Excuse me. Forgive me. But misery truly loves company, i couldn't bear it alone and i honestly didn't know who to go to.

 I love mdzs believe me i do but i can never fully enjoy being in this fandom because more than majority of the fandom have their heads up Jiang Cheng's ass and every platform i go to most people are either victimising him/under the Yunmeng siblings fanvideo most of the comments are like "actually Jiang Cheng suffered a lot too, The one who was hurt the most is clearly Jiang Cheng" bruhhh/ or shoving his godawful ass in where he is unwanted.

 I just wanted to search for some Lan Qiren contents, preferably funny fanarts or headcanons, you see. I wasn't even surfing long before i find this. Yes it is my own fault for not filtering purple shit's name before searching but alas i saw it and i can't unsee. It's kinda like a last straw because lately it has been real struggle find good contents about other characters that Jiang Cheng and his victimself isn't somehow shoved down my throat. So yeah. I'm an evil pos for subjecting you to this, dragging you with myself and staining your eyes but i simply had to get it out of my chest. Sorry again.

Hahah...🥲 I feel you. I think the best way to really enjoy mdzs is far far away from its fandom. Maybe on a new sm platform where only artwork can be uploaded... not encyclopedia length twitter threads about why a fully grown woman was justified making everyone around her miserable and whipping a kid for existing. But that's another matter...

ok back to LQR, why would LQR fw jc? WWX may break etiquette rules but does jiang cheng respect these :

Talking behind other people's back is prohibited.

Sneering for no reason is prohibited.

Arrogance is forbidden.

Do not succumb to rage.

Do not fear the strong.

Do not bully the weak.

Do not disrespect the younger.

Do not take advantage of your position to oppress others.

Do not break faith.

Do not make assumptions about others.

Do not insult people.

Morality is the priority.

Harmony is the value.

Do not act impulsively.

Make sure to act virtuously.

Do not forget the grace of the forefathers.

Be careful with your words.

Be respectful and humble.

Stop the bad habits.

Be strict with yourself.

Be easy on others.

Do not hold grudges.

If others win over you, do not envy them.

Love all beings.

Honor good people.

Uphold the value of justice.

Shoulder the weight of morality.

Embrace the entirety of the world.

Perform acts of chivalry.

Have courage and knowledge.

Have courtesy and integrity.

Have affection and gratefulness.

Have wins and losses.

Be fair, and others will follow.

Believe sincerely.

Have a strong will and anything can be achieved.

Win friendships with kindness.

See friends as neighbors.

Be just.

Be generous.

Be ethical.

Be grateful.

Do not treat others with contempt.

Do not look down on the poor.

Do not bully the weak.

Be kind, moderate, cautious, virtuous.

Be gentle and content in adversity.

etc.

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 23

Word Count: 4,542

POV: Starts with the Reader then switches to Sid’s

Warngings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Sorry this is so late tonight, but well you know life, but here it is finally. Last when we saw these two, Sid had screwed up when he tried to apologize to (Y/N) and accused (Y/N) of flying back to Pittsburgh and sleeping with another man, his teammate. Now let’s find out what happened. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading! Let me know what you guys think.

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

READER'S POV

 "Are you ok?" Matt asked, throwing an arm around you as your head hung low in your hands. You could tell by his soft voice he wasn't sure if you were crying or not. Oh, you could that was for sure, but not from sadness, it was out of anger.

"No," you mumbled, then stood up and started to pace the floor. "I'm pissed off."

 "I can tell," Cully answered as he watched you move around the great room.

 "Who does he think he is?" It was a rhetorical question, so Matt stayed quiet. "I can't believe he has the nerve to think that I would just fly home to Pittsburgh and just jump in bed with someone. And that for him to think that I would sleep with you!" That came out a bit harsher than you intended. "Not that you're not hot or anything, but you're Dad, you know, and then there's Bridget and…"

 "I get it, (Y/N)." Matt chimed in saving you from further embarrassment.

 "He's just so fucking frustrating." You plopped back down on the couch next to Matt. "He never asked me to move in, you know. He just thinks I'm a mind reader or something. I mean sure I would've loved to move in, had he asked, but did he? NO!" You fought the urge to jump off of the sofa and start pacing again. There was so much tension and frustration that was bundled up inside you, that you just needed to get this nervous energy out of your system. Instead, you reached for the carton of sweet and sour chicken you'd order and shoved a piece in your mouth. It tasted like the cardboard it came in, but that had nothing to do with the quality of the food and everything to do with the nasty after-taste your conversation with Sid had left in your mouth. "I don't really think I'm being unreasonable here…do you?"

 By the look on Matt's face, he was still trying to figure out what you'd said as you hadn't even swallowed the chicken before rambling again. He finished chewing his egg roll, like any normal civilized human being would, though at the moment you didn't feel normal or polite before he answered you. "First off, you're right he should've asked you about moving in." Matt could tell you were about to interrupt him, so he quickly continued. "And you're right about him jumping to a big conclusion about you sleeping with someone, though honestly, I'm quite a catch, just ask Bridget I'm sure she'll tell you that."

 "You are," you said giving him a little wink, even though you'd never looked at him that way.

 "Thank you, now as I was saying, and I'm not trying to make excuses for him here…"

 "I feel like there's a big but coming."

 "But," there it was, you saw it coming a mile away. "I've played with Sid for a year, but I've known him longer than that. You're like the first woman he's ever really had a relationship with. I just don't think he knows how to act." That couldn't be right, you thought. "I mean sure he's gone out on dates and taken someone to an event here or there but nothing like what the two of you have."

 You'd known that he'd been hesitant to get involved with you because he thought it would interfere with hockey but you hadn't really given much thought to him not having experience in a relationship, but what Cully was saying made some sense. "I mean think about it, (Y/N). Hockey has been his whole life until you walked in. He went from being this amazingly talented kid to a superstar center and he's had no chance to experience the stuff that went in between with it. And do you know why that is?"

 You shook your head no, wanting to hear what Cully's assessment was. "Because he's been afraid." Your brows knitted together as you tried to take in that concept. Sid wasn't afraid of anything that you knew of. Thankfully, Matt continued to explain this abstract notion to you. "He's afraid that he'll fail at it. With hockey he can control it, he can work at it. He can go out on the ice and shoot five hundred pucks until he gets that shot right. But this," Matt said, waving his hand in the air then back at you. "This thing he has with you. He has no control over it and that scares the hell out of him. There's no manual on how to be the perfect boyfriend or what to do when you have an argument, and he certainly can't go out to a rink and practice how to do it. He's afraid he'll make the wrong move, probably like he just did, and well…you'll be gone."

 Fuck. That was the only word echoing through your brain. You'd never looked at any of this through Sid's eyes, but you knew that Cully was right. You tossed your head back on the sofa cushion, looking up the ceiling for some sort of divine intervention on what you should do next. "He still shouldn't have said I was sleeping with you."

 "No, he shouldn't have." Matt attempted. "I guess the question is what do you want to do? Is what you have with Sid worth working things out? Are you brave enough to navigate the waters so to speak, where no one else has; helping him along?" You closed your eyes already knowing what you were going to do, but still thinking all your options out. "I remember a certain someone," he jabbed his elbow lightly into your ribs. "Being a bit insecure herself about dating a famous athlete not too long ago."

 You looked over at Matt, head still firmly planted into the headrest of the couch, and rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, and Sid reassured me about everything." Now it was your turn to reassure him you supposed.

 "It's up to you what you want to do. The ball, or puck in your case, is in your rink so to speak."

 "I'm still mad at him," you told Cully, finally sitting upright on the couch.

 "Rightly so."

 "Which means he can stew a little bit longer."

 "Bridget would agree with you." You had to laugh at that because you had a feeling Matt's wife had left him in the dog house a time or two before he was actually forgiven.

 Blowing out a long breath, you'd come to your decision. "But I will forgive him."

 "That's my girl," Cully said then handed back over your Chinese carton to continue eating. "Now that that's settled. Can we finish eating?"

 It was a couple hours later before Matt left for the evening. "Promise me you won't let him wait forever before talking to him."

 "I won't." Though you did want him to suffer just a bit longer.

 "Good, because I have a feeling he'll be blowing up my phone until you talk to him." You walked Matt to the door.

 "Sorry, you got dragged into this mess."

 Matt leaned in and kissed your head like any dutiful dad would that was helping his daughter. "Get some rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

 "Night, and thanks again."

 SID'S POV

 You turned over for what had to be the hundredth time in the last hour and looked at the clock. Which literally read twelve minutes after three. Exactly seven minutes from the last time you'd looked at it. Why hadn't she called already? Was she going to? She probably hated you and she had every right to. You were so fucking stupid accusing her of sleeping with someone when all you wanted to do was apologize for the first fuck up you'd made the night before. Instead, you'd gone and made things a million times worth.

 The tone of her voice said it all. (Y/N) was pissed beyond words at the accusation and you knew that had she been standing in front of you she probably would've smacked you across the face; deservingly so. There was no point in laying in bed and staring at four walls so you got up and went to blow off some steam by working out, though it didn't help.

 You were a walking zombie by the time training practice rolled around though you put every ounce of effort you had into it, at least when you weren't checking your phone to see if (Y/N) had called. She hadn't. Physically, you were exhausted and it was only six o'clock at night. Nate suggested going out for dinner but you couldn't stomach the thought of eating a nice meal knowing that your relationship was barely hanging on by a thread, so you opted out and instead just grabbed some takeout at home.

 You'd spoken to Matt a couple times, though all he would say was to give (Y/N) time. How much time though? That was the real question. Should you be jumping on a plane and flying down to Pittsburgh at this very moment or would that make this worse? You'd really made a mess of things and had no clue how to fix it.

 Sleep evaded you again that night, even though you were both mentally and physically exhausted. You finally fell asleep around four-thirty in the morning only to have the alarm go off at six. You dragged yourself out of bed and headed off to train, hoping that it would take your mind off things.

 "You look like shit, man," Nate told you as soon as you walked into the building. "You sure you want to be here today."

 "What else am I going to do?"

 Nate shrugged not having an answer of his own for you. "Have you at least talked to (Y/N)?"

 "No, I haven't called her. I'm trying to give her time."

 Nate looked you up and down a few times assessing you and weighing his words before he spoke again. "I know you're trying to give her space, but maybe you should go see her. I've never seen you like this man."

 "I want to." All you wanted to do was get on a plane and head straight to her. "I'm just not sure it won't make things worse."

 "I know she wanted you to stay and train, but honestly Sid, neither one of us is going to be pushing hard when you're completely exhausted. I'm not saying to fly back and stay in Pittsburgh. Just go there and work things out with her." Nate clapped you on the back. "For both our sakes."

 Maybe he was right. You could just fly down for the day and come right back. All you needed to do was call and get a plane. "You're right. As soon as we're done today, I'm going to call and get it all set up. I've got to win her back."

 "That's the spirit."

 Training went a little better as you formulated a plan to win back (Y/N). You were even smiling some at the end of the day. "So as soon as we get that Tim Horton's shoot done, I'm flying out. Think we can get it done by four tomorrow afternoon?" You asked Nate as you grabbed your bag and headed out of the facility. "The plane can be ready by five, so that gives me an hour to get to the airport. Think that's enough time?"

 You were looking at your schedule on your phone making sure that you could fit everything in before flying and not paying attention when you heard Nate say, "I don't think you have to worry about making that plane." You looked up at Nate not knowing why he would say such a thing when he was the one that suggested you go to Pittsburgh in the first place. He nodded his head pointing in the direction of your Suburban. There stood (Y/N) leaning up against your car.  

 You blinked once and then repeated the action, not believing that she was really there. It had to be some sort of dream. Were you hallucinating? Lack of sleep could do that to a person. But as you drew near, it became evident that she was standing there in the flesh and blood. She looked stunning, wearing a plain belted t-shirt dress; her hair tied back in a simple ponytail, with little wisps framing her face. God, you'd missed her.

 "Hey (Y/N)." Nate's voice brought you out of your musing and you shook yourself, trying to regain your composure.

 "Hi Nate," she waved back, before pushing off the vehicle.

 "Good luck," Nate told then took off for his own car.

 You were too busy staring at the woman in front of you though to pay any attention to Nate. "Hi," you whispered in a small voice, one that was shaky and unsure of how to proceed.

 "Hi, Sidney." You found yourself frown at her use of your name. It wasn't Sid, or babe, or hun, or any of the other million nicknames she called you. "Can we talk?" You wanted to, that was your whole point of planning to go to Pittsburgh for a whirlwind of twelve to sixteen hours, but now that (Y/N) was standing here, you had no idea what to say.

 "Yeah," was the only word that came out of your mouth and you wanted to kick yourself for not saying anything more.

 "Not here," she said motioning to the parking lot.

 No, this wasn't exactly an ideal place to have an intimate conversation about your relationship. "Did you want to go back to the house?" Oh god, maybe that was a bad suggestion. "Or we could go grab something to eat?" Even though that was the last thing you wanted to do.

 "The house is fine." She opened the passenger door and then crawled inside the car before you could say anything else. It took you a minute to gather yourself and walk around to the driver's side. You'd planned on coming up with a whole speech to say to her while you were on the plane. Now you had exactly nine and half minutes, if there was traffic, to think of how you were going to apologize to the woman you loved.

 The ride was silent except for the radio playing in the background. It was weird to drive like this with her. Normally your hands would be interlaced resting on the console in the middle of the car as you drove with your free hand, but as you glanced over you saw that she was sitting on hers. A clear sign that you were not supposed to touch her. It killed you and so your hands remained at ten and two on the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip as you fought the urge not to reach over and grab her.

 You glanced every so often at her, wondering what was going through her mind. It killed you that she wasn't saying anything. "How was your flight?" you finally blurted out when you were halfway home.

 "It was good. Had a bit of a layover in Philly. So not as good as flying privately with you."

 That flight was one you wouldn't forget. It was the first time you'd been thirty thousand feet in the air and buried deep inside (Y/N). Definitely an experience you'd thought you'd be repeating again. You hadn't expected that you'd be in the car with her now wondering if you still had a relationship.

 By the time you pulled into the driveway, your nerves were shot, wondering if (Y/N) had flown all the way just to break up with you. You tried to think logically and tell yourself that if she wanted to do that, she would've done it on the phone, but knowing (Y/N), she would have to tell you that in person and not take the cowardly way out. She followed you into the house, where you sat your bag down at the door before Sammy came wondering up for her nightly pats. "Hey Sammy, how are you sweet girl?" (Y/N) said bending down to show your dog more affection than she'd shown you.

 You coughed trying to work the lump that was in your throat out. "Can I get you something to drink?"

 "A water would be great." You grabbed two bottles out of the fridge, opening hers like you always did, before handing it over to her, both of you taking a drink.

 "(Y/N), I'm…" you started to say right as (Y/N) said "Sid, I…" The two of you laughed, even though it was hollow, it still broke the tension.

 "Do you mind if I go first?" (Y/N) asked though she didn't really need to as you'd gladly give her anything as long as she didn't say she never wanted to see you again. "I hope you know that I would never, not in a million years, cheat on you. I'm not sure how you jumped to that conclusion but I'm not that kind of person, Sid. If I wanted to be with someone else, I'd be upfront with you and tell you. I wouldn't go running off and sneak behind your back."

 When she took a breath, you jumped in. "I know that (Y/N). I truly do. I don't have an excuse for why I said that other than to say that I was jealous and upset, but I'm truly sorry for saying it. I don't know how I can make it up to you."

 "I just don't understand why you think that. Have I ever given you a reason to believe that I would do something like that?"

 "NO!" You shouted, not really yelling at her but wanting her to know it wasn't her fault. "I'm just stupid. Stupid and crazy in love with you, and sometimes…" you blew out a breath. "I'm just so worried I'm going to lose you or you won't love me anymore. I'm not good at this (Y/N). I've never had a relationship last over a couple weeks. I'm afraid I'll do something wrong and push you away, but that's what I did anyhow."

 "Sid," (Y/N) said taking your hands in hers. You relished even that small contact. "You're not going to lose me or do something wrong." She moved a step closer to you, and you breathed in the intoxicating fragrance that was (Y/N). "I love you silly, and yes I was upset that you didn't see my point about staying here, and we both did stupid things, but that doesn't mean I stopped loving you." Her hand came up and cupped your cheek and you found yourself melting into her touch. "We both need to learn to communicate better. No more running away, for either of us." You were surprised she was including herself in this part, but you supposed she considered taking an earlier flight to Pittsburgh running away as well. "Do you think we can do that?"

 "Of course, if you think you can forgive me for being a selfish jerk and wanting you with me all the time."

 She rocked her head from side to side a small little smile playing across her lips. "I think I can do that. Besides, I kind of like that you want me around all the time."

 You pulled her close, so that no distance separated the two of you, as you wrapped your arms around her waist. "You do huh?"

 "MmmHmm." It was then that she leaned up and captured your lips. God, she tasted like heaven. It had been almost four days since you'd kissed her, yet it felt like four million years. You poured all your love into the kiss hoping to show her how much you not only loved her but how sorry you were for everything that you had done.

 When the two of you finally came up for air, you asked her, "So when are you flying back? Tell me that there won't be a car here in fifteen minutes to pick you up."

 "It's actually thirty."

 "That would've been so much more convincing if you weren't smirking the entire time," you told her giving her hips a little squeeze.

 "You're stuck with me until Sunday night. That is if I can stay?"

 "Are you crazy? Of course, you can stay, but where's your stuff?" You distinctly remember seeing her have only her purse with her when she was leaning against the car.

 "Oh, well. I stashed it in the garage before I had the car drop me off at the rink."

 "So, you mean to tell me you planned on forgiving me all along?"

 "I had some very good advice from a mutual friend, that lead me here." She had to be referring to Cully. You definitely owed him when you got back in town.

 "Well, I'll be sure to thank him." You dropped a kiss to her lips again, just needing to touch her in any way possible. "Did you want to go out for dinner? I can change and be ready in ten minutes."

 Her arms tightened around your neck, as your hands moved up and down her sides. "I'd rather just stay in and order if you don't mind."

 "Not at all," you answered with a raise of your eyebrows. "Though there is something I have to ask you." She pulled back slightly and cocked her head to the side in question. "I was stupid before to assume that you'd just move in with me. So now, this is me asking. (Y/N), I know I can be extremely difficult and stupid at times, but there's nothing I want more than to go to sleep every night lying beside you and to have you wake up next to me every morning. Any chance of making this happen?"

 You could see her thinking it over and you weren't sure if she was trying to be cute and make you wait for an answer or if she truly had concerns. "I would love to, on one condition." It was your turn to give her that questioning look. "If it becomes too much, you know being with each other at home and at work; you'll tell me so I can move back to my place."

 "Babe, it's not going to be too much. I don't want you six feet from me now. That's not going to change."

 "I know but if it does…"

 "If it does, we'll talk about it. Like mature adults. I will not storm out of the house and go stay with Geno." She laughed then, the sound music to your ears.

 "Well, then Mr. Crosby it looks like you just got yourself a roommate."

 "And a pretty one at that," you said kissing her soundly on the lips. "Now, what would you like for dinner?"

 "Maybe we should skip that and go straight for dessert?" (Y/N) was peppering you with kisses and making it hard to concentrate. This was your first fight and you weren't sure if you should just give in and go all out for makeup sex or take things slow and continue to talk things over at dinner. The last thing you needed was to make another mistake that's for sure.

 Pulling back ever so slightly from the embrace, you gazed at (Y/N). "Are you sure about skipping dinner?"

 (Y/N)'s hand slid down to your crotch where she cupped your ever-growing erection. "Yes, I missed you." You didn't ask anything more, knowing that you could always order a pizza later. Instead, your lips captured hers, stealing her breath away before you scooped her up in your arms and headed upstairs. One kiss melted into another and then to another until you were laying her down on the bed that you'd shared only days ago. The same one that had felt too big without her lying beside you.

 The two of you were a mess of tangled limbs and you weren't sure who was removing what clothing. All you knew is that neither one of you could be naked fast enough. Your lips traveled down her neck until you sucked on her nipples. Her body arching into your mouth greedily. One hand slid down her stomach, parting her thighs, leaving her open and wanting for you, as your lips started to travel the same path. (Y/N) stopped you though, her hands cradling your cheeks. "I need you inside me." As much as you wanted to feast on her pussy, the pleading tone in her voice had you giving in to not only her wants but yours as well.

 You settled yourself between her legs, grabbing her hips and edging her just that inch or two closer. You could feel the heat radiating off her body even before your cock slid between her folds. She was deliciously wet, and being inside her felt like coming home after a two-week road trip. (Y/N) was everything. She was your shelter from the worst storm. The light when only darkness surrounded you. There was no other woman in the world that was made for you like she was, and with every thrust of your hips and every kiss from your lips, you tried to tell her that. You would articulate it all into words for her later when you were holding her in your arms, but for now, you let your body speak them for you.

 Her legs started to tremble, and you could feel her fluttering around your cock, as she took you in deeper and deeper. You knew she was close and with a few more thrust, you felt her lose control. "I love you," she cried out, right as she hit that peak, and it was those words that sent you spiraling over the edge with her. Your own declaration of love spilling from your lips.

 The two of you laid there for some time. Soft kisses being exchanged here and there as your breathing returned to normal. "I don't ever want to fight with you again," you told her, as your fingers trailed up and down her heated flesh.

 "Me either." She agreed before kissing you soundly. "Though the makeup sex, was kind of fun."

 You shook your head at her, a soft chuckle escaping you. Sex with (Y/N) was always great. "While that was pretty amazing, I'd rather not have you absent from my life and my bed for four days. I was a mess without you." Just then your stomach growled. "I haven't eaten a decent meal since this whole thing went down."

 "Well then, we better feed you before you wither away to nothing." She reached over and grabbed her phone. "I'll cook for you tomorrow. Tonight, you're getting takeout and then after that, I plan on making up for lost time."

 "Sounds good, but I also plan on stocking up for our days apart." You wrapped your arms around her tightly, hating the thought that she'd be leaving in just a few short days, but you knew that when you finally got back in Pittsburgh, she would be there waiting for you, this time ready to build a home with you.  

[cantillat-moved]

@more-than-a-princess​ 🌞 - i really like your blog! ✨ - i love seeing you on my dash! ❄️x100000000000 - you’re my best friend!🌸 - you’re really sweet!💫 - you’re super talented! 🔥 - you need to stop being so hard on yourself! - Basically my super-talented, very smart, always fun to talk to bestie! Can I call you my bestie? Am I allowed? Ah well. I do consider you my best friend. Forgive me for how late this is: It's been a long day. But I'll be around for shitposting tomorrow :D

ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴ ᴀɴᴏɴ!

RAE!!!! OMG YOU!!! I consider you my bestie too! I want to be besties with you forever and a year (why? Because forever doesn’t feel long enough). I’m often awestruck by your talent, how your replies flows and Sonia’s voice reach out in full display – it is captivating, inspiring, and makes me want to strive to write even better and carry our threads in an enjoyable way. The research you do in all things royal, your carefully thought out headcanons and the absolute joy that is to interact with Sonia makes me wait for your replies that there is only one gif to describe.

You too need to stop being hard on yourself. It is clear to see how much love and care you put on every single one of your threads, you don’t do anything half-baked and you always give your partner plenty to work with and take the thread – regardless if planned or not. And you are also so easy to approach and talk to! (even your shitpost is –chef’s kiss-  tell me your secrets) RAE IS THE BESTEST BEST BESTIE I COULD WISH FOR OK???

[writefightandflightclub]

Tell it to the stars (Poe Dameron x reader)

Summary: between your Resistance duties and having to move quarters, you are STRESSED af. Luckily, you have a very helpful Commander-shaped friend who knows just how to soothe you.

Rated: TEEN

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs this week bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (I’m doing these quickly so I can do as many as humanly possible, so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!). P.S. I LOVE POE.

Warnings: kissing; alcohol consumption but no drunkeness; stressed reader.

GIF: off-duty Poe in huggable space jumper @lady-arryn​

Poe looks sidelong across the room at you as you sit cross-legged on the floor, almost entirly obscured in amongst a pile of papers and packing materials. You look like you’re about to weep into one of the boxes, to be honest, and Poe decides he’s had quite enough of seeing you this way.

“Okay. Intervention,” he announces, as he watches you bury your head in your hands and rub your fingertips over your temples- the sure sign of a tension headache. 

You’ve had a stressful day. Ok, week. Year, in fact. Your Resistance duties have been piling up, your paperwork is piling up, and now on top of everything, you’ve found out that you have to move quarters. It’s all just too much. You’re at your limit, and Poe knows it.

In fact, he has been keeping an eye on you all week. On your clenched fists. Your teeth worrying your lower lip. Your mussed hair and curt tones and increasingly frequent sighs. Has been listening out for the sound of your boots pacing relentlessly in the hangar.

Even around his busy Commander’s schedule, he has tried to find small ways to help you out. He offered to help you pack tonight, for one, hoping it would help, but now he realises you need something a little more drastic than that.

“Like I have time for an intervention?” you protest tiredly, indignantly, snapping at him without meaning to, your voice thin and strung-out, on the edge of tears. 

“I’m telling you you do. Don’t make me pull rank,” he says firmly, walking purposefully around the room and fishing a few choice items out of your boxes.

“Poe I’m supposed to be packing, not unpacking,” you sigh in frustration, grabbing a handful of rogue spanners and chucking them haphazardly into the wrong box.

When even the noise and movement of this wonderful man buzzing around you becomes annoying, you realise that maybe you do, in fact, need a break.

Poe stuffs the random items he’s selected in a backpack and tosses it over his shoulder, before lifting you up from the floor, his palms under your elbows as he guides you to a standing position.

“What exactly do you propose, Commander?” you say, resigning yourself to him.

“Marriage?” he smirks, and you huff out air in exasperation, turning away from him and back towards your packing. You certainly don’t have the time for him to avoid straight answers. For silliness.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I’ll be serious,” he promises, catching you and squeezing you firmly by the shoulders. You give him another chance and look into his eyes expectantly. “The hill. Blanket. Stars. Fire whiskey. My disarmingly handsome face for company.”

You want to remain impassive, but even in your foul mood you can’t help but crack a smile at his straightforward and genuine enthusiasm. He seems so certain that he can stop you from feeling... like this. You’d very much like to stop feeling like this.

“Fine,” you agree, folding your arms and setting a quick pace out of the door, abandoning your boxes with no further argument. 

“What sold it, was it the handsome face thing?”

“Nope. You had me at fire whiskey,” you tease, throwing a wink in his direction and elbowing him gently in his side as he skips to catch up with you.

You both track up to the hill, and Poe runs ahead as you approach to spread the blanket out for you, smoothing it out on top of the grass.

The summer evening is clear and still, the temperature balmy enough even at this hour, and, as you sit down and tilt your head up to the skies, you have to admit that the stars are glorious. It sounds ridiculous, for someone in a galatic war, but you had almost forgotten they were there; you’d barely looked up lately, spending your days hastening from one item to the next on your ever-extending to do list.

You glance over at Poe as he seats himself next to you on the blanket. You hate to admit it, but despite the fact he’d been by your side all week, you had almost forgotten he was there too. Had forgotten to look up at the stars in his eyes as much as you should have. Sometimes, you daren’t look at all because he is too dazzling, and you have too much to focus on without letting your crush get in the way. Now you’re looking though, and he’s looking right back.

Better late than never.

He uncorks the half full bottle of fire whiskey and passes it to you for the first swig. You wordlessly take the bottle, Poe’s fingers brushing yours, and you tip it back for a swig. You enjoy the warmth blooming in the centre of you, though you’re not entirely sure whether it’s a result of the spirit coursing down your throat or from the way his eyes blaze as he looks at you, Either way, it’s a damn sight better than the stress that has knotted itself inside you of late. 

You pass the bottle to Poe and he too takes an eager glug, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand when he’s done. you can’t help but notice that his lips flush with colour from the pressure.

“So,” he probes gently. “What’s stressing you?”

You look at him indignantly. Is he taking the piss?

“Poe, are you serious?” you begin, voice thin and high-pitched again, your hands waving helplessly in the air. “Where do I even start? I don’t have time to get everything done. It’s not packed, it’s not ready, I have so many mission reports to write, an inventory of...”

“Stop.” Poe interupts softly, but firmly, halting your racing speech. “Don’t tell me. Tell it to the stars.”

“What?” you question, face scrunched up in confusion.

“Tell the stars what’s bothering you.”

You look at him blanky.

“Come on,” he grins. “Humour me. It’s a trick my mom used on me when I was little.”

You’d resist him, but his face is disarmingly handsome, isn’t it? He wasn’t wrong. 

You smile tentatively -though your eyes remain full of scepticism- and you tip your face up to the skies overhead, beginning to speak again, listing out your worries. You feel a little foolish, but you don’t have to for long, as Poe interupts you once again.

“Nuh-uh. The stars can’t hear you like that. You have to lie back. Come on.” He taps your thigh with his palm and nods his head towards the blanket, indicating for you to recline on it.

You throw him another sceptical scowl, but the playful, gentle expression on his face has you complying with him regardless.

You settle yourself down, flat on your back and arms limp at your sides, the fleecy material soft under your fingertips.You shuffle until you’re comfortable, and your body sinks into the blanket and the cushion of grass beneath it.

Once you’re in place, Poe lowers himself to lie beside you, folding his arms behind his head. You twist your head to look at him, but he’s looking up, his lips curved into a small smile, and his perfect, chiselled jaw tipped up towards the sky.

“Go ahead. Tell the stars,” he encourages, and you look up too.

You look up.

You look up at the swirling colours and patterns of the stars, twinkling and winding themselves into constellations and galaxies, vast tapestries of sparkling threads endlessly dying and being reborn. The sight is beautiful, and it causes some of the tension to ebb away from your body as you enjoy something which catches you entirely off-guard. Something you didn’t schedule or have to tick off a list or plan for. Just the stars and you and Poe. 

“Well? I’m waiting,” Poe says, and you think Shara’s trick starts to become a little clearer.

To yell at the stars, of all things, about not having enough time? To speak about paperwork and to do lists to these raging infernos in the limitless, infinite sky? To tell the vastness of the galaxy your worries about shifting your boxes? The stars don’t care.The stars only care that you look up.

Poe has done this for you, because he cares. How could you doubt that now? You know for a fact he hasn’t used this trick to dismiss or invalidate your numerous worries and very real stresses. You know he never would. You understand that, instead, he’s simply provided you with a chance to look up from them. To lift your head from the details of life and see the big picture. To take a moment to breathe.

The moment, lying here with him, is so simple and yet so profound, that tears glisten in your eyes, echoing the stars, and even so a soft smile spreads over your face.

“Everything will be fine,” you say, letting go of a weight from your body, shaking your head in disbelief as you feel like you’re defying gravity. How does Poe always make everything better?

“Everything will be fine,” he repeats, in that warm, sandy voice of his, and in the space between you, his hand reaches over to clasp yours where it lays on top of the blanket, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

Your breath stalls in your chest as his fingers find yours, but, instantly, it feels natural to entwine your fingers with his, and so for a moment you just lay there, holding hands, and your heart racing.You wonder if his heart is racing too.

“Besides,” Poe says, and you can tell from the way his voice filters more directly towards the shell of your ear that he’s tipped his head towards you, “don’t forget the whole reason you’re moving,” he says with a playful drawl.

The real reason was that your block was crumbling and Leia had to reissue your room. But, you had a feeling Poe had another reason he intended to cite.

You let your head loll towards him on the blanket, until you are nearly nose to nose.

You can’t help but notice that Poe is both awfully and delightfully close. And still disarmingly handsome, for sure. 

“Oh yeah?” you ask, following his lead. “And what’s that?”

A cheeky and dazzling smile blooms on his lips. “To live closer to me, right?”

Your eyes dance with humour as you gaze back at him from across the blanket, his hand still holding yours tightly, his thumb now stroking tentatively over your knuckles.

“You must be mistaken, Commander. That’s not the reason,” you insist from beneath your lashes, your tongue suddenly feeling inordinately heavy in your mouth as you realise you are close enough to smell the fire whiskey on his breath. 

Poe shifts on to his side, bringing his whole body closer to yours. “Ok, fine. Maybe it’s not the sole reason,” he says softly, nipping his bottom lip beneath his teeth as his gaze wanders hungrily between your lips and eyes. “But it sure as hell is a bonus, right?”

You turn on to your side too, and bravely throw your arm over him as stars twinkle in his eyes.

Ever so slowly, Poe inches his mouth closer to yours, and when your lips finally meet you can’t tell whether the warmth suffusing through you is from his kiss or the taste of fire whiskey on his lips. So, you kiss him again just to be sure.

That kiss knocks every coherent thought out of your head. You barely remember what you were stressed about. All you know for sure, is that you’re so glad Poe made you look up. Suddenly you remember how beautiful the stars in his eyes are, and it really puts things into perspective.

Sod the kriffing boxes. You have everything you need right here, under the expansive night sky.

The stars might not care about your worries, but Poe sure does, and he’s just melted them away.

[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 1 "First Impressions" (Elias Intro)

CW: foster care mention, tourettes syndrome, ticcing, drug mention, food mention, conversation about abuse, hospital setting, injury mention, discussion of poisoned food, vomit mention (let me know if i missed anything!)

Elias was nothing special, really, not in his eyes. He was taken from his deadbeat parents when he was 11, he was tossed around from foster homes to group homes and back again for an exhausting seven years, he didn’t finish high school. The most interesting thing about him was his tourettes, but even that was embarrassing and shameful, another reason to be ignored. Truth was, he was swept under the rug and forgotten for his whole life, so no one, including himself, thought he would ever amount to much, or thought he was worthy of nice things. People like him didn’t just get nice things, unless they were very lucky, and Elias had found out time after disappointing time that he was not one of the fortunate ones.

But Tyson sure as hell made him feel like he could be.

It was amusing to Elias how they met, even though Tyson claimed he wished it would’ve been more pleasant. Tyson had yet to learn that Elias repelled pleasantries. Elias had been staying with a few people he knew from high school, before he dropped out, in their cramped apartment, working part time at a diner so he could try and move out and be on his own. He was so tired of sharing small spaces with people. He would walk home from work everyday, because of course he couldn’t afford a car or even a bike. On that particular night, it was dark and raining, and Elias was in a particular rush to get to the apartment and change out of his wet clothes. Which is why he tried to rush across the street where there wasn’t a crosswalk, unaware of the fast car turning the corner until he heard the screech of tires next to him.

The man that got out of the car looked just as scared as Elias felt, rushing towards him in a flurry of apologies. “I am so sorry! Are you ok? Are you hurt?” His voice was shaking, and it made Elias uneasy, he didn’t look like he would scare easily, with his strong build and his mature face.

Elias scowled at him, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t drive so fast on this road, dickbag,” he scolded, “you could’ve fucking killed me!”

The man looked surprised, like he wasn’t expecting someone of Elias’s stature to have such a foul mouth. “I...I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you crossing and I...Where are you headed? Let me give you a ride.”

“What?” He squeaked in response. Logically, he knew it was his fault anyway, he wasn’t supposed to cross there, it was dark and rainy and not this stranger's fault, he was just quick to anger and too afraid to admit when he was in the wrong. “GIve me a ride?”

“Please, it’s the very least I can do. I feel awful.”

Elias knew that he shouldn’t get into a stranger's car, that it might be dangerous, that this man's kindness could be some sort of sinister facade. But he seemed so genuine, so concerned. So he slowly nodded, ducking into the passengers side door carefully. It was better than walking home in the rain. “My name’s Elias.” He heard himself saying.

“Elias,” the man repeated, “I’m Tyson.”

That was over a month ago, and the two were much more than strangers who almost had a horrible accident, by now. As Tyson was driving him home, they were talking about surface level things to fill the awkward spaces, and Tyson mentioned his ex-boyfriend, at which Elias mentioned his ex-boyfriend, and when they got to his apartment, Tyson asked for his number. They’d gotten much closer since then, Elias even stayed over at Tyson’s apartment a few days a week.

Tyson was so down to earth, so kind and forgiving and patient. He smoked weed, but he never pressured Elias into it, like other people had in the past. He was a nurse at a behavioral health hospital, he only worked nights, so they typically spent all day together. Elias was so enthralled by him and everything he did, often he would sit with Tyson as he drew sloppy, drug hazed sketches, or talk with him about the way the world worked, or things of that nature. The best part about being with Tyson was that he never felt forgotten or ignored, and he rather enjoyed the new attention. He enjoyed feeling cared about, important.

Sometimes Elias would stay at Tyson’s apartment when Tyson went to work, sleeping in his bed and waiting for him to come home in the morning. Tyson came home and crawled under the covers to catch up on sleep he’d missed at work, and after a while of holding each other while they slept, Elias got up to cook breakfast. He wasn’t a great cook, per say, but he could fry an egg alright, and maybe whip up some french toast on a good day. Today was apparently not one of the better ones, and the burnt food ended up in the trash, leaving him with scrambled eggs in the bottom of the pan. It wasn’t spectacular, but it would have to do.

“Good morning,” he called to Tyson as he came into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He always looked so nice upon waking up, his hair messy and how the late morning sun hit his beautiful dark skin as he stretched. “I made eggs. Not sure how safe they are to eat, though.”

Tyson offered a weak smile, but didn’t seem too amused at the joke. Elias wondered if he’d done something wrong, Tyson was usually so light-hearted.

“I need to talk to you about something, Eli.” He grumbled. Elias quite liked that nickname, but not when the rest of the sentence sounded so heavy. “Can we sit for a second?”

Once they were at the table, Elias took a deep breath, ready to put his defenses up, ready to be angry instead of hurt. He found himself thinking over the last few days, had he said something wrong? Was he annoying him? Overstaying his welcome at his apartment? “You’re tired of me, aren’t you?” He asked.

“No! Oh God, Eli, no!” He reached forward to take his hand as he spoke, smiling at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. You’re fine, we’re fine. This is about...well, it’s about my ex.”

Elias relaxed a fraction at the reassurance, so he was fine, Tyson wasn’t sick of him. Then he nodded for him to go on, listening carefully. Tyson didn’t talk about him much, but Elias knew that his name was Allen, that he had a lot of issues that were never really discussed in detail.

“You know how I told you that he had a lot going on? That he was sort of...a mess?” He paused, taking a deep breath to organize his thoughts. “Well, a while ago, he got mixed up with these really bad people, it wasn’t his fault, it should’ve never happened, and he got really hurt.” Tyson sounded nervous, and Elias squeezed his hand gently to comfort him. “Anyway, this guy he was with really hurt him, for a really long time. His name is August. I mean, this guy was a monster, he ruined his life.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Elias asked. The subject seemed to make both of them uneasy, and he stroked his thumb mindlessly against Tyson’s knuckles.

Tyson took a deep breath then, looking like he didn’t want to answer. “Well...He got hurt again, he’s at the hospital. I guess he didn’t want to call his boyfriend so they called me instead. I have to go pick him up. And I wanted you to come with me, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Elias didn’t know why he agreed to it, really, he just knew that within an hour he was walking down the cold, sterile, hallway of a hospital, hand in hand with an obviously nervous Tyson. He wasn’t really sure what to expect, having heard very few things about Allen in the past. Allen didn’t have his shit together, Tyson had told him, so as much as they had tried to work through things, it just wasn’t possible. From what he gathered, Tyson cared a lot about this guy, even if it wasn’t in that way anymore, and he believed him. Allen had someone else anyway, so he didn’t have anything to worry about. At least he hoped he didn’t.

Elias was shocked at how horrible Allen looked, like he was seconds from keeling over right there on the hospital bed. He was bruised up every few inches from head to toe, a sick pallor to him. Tyson wasn’t lying when he’d said that the person, August, had really hurt him.

Tyson rapped gently against the door frame, causing Allen to squint up at them with a pained look on his face. His black hair fell against his jaw and a few strands over his face, like he couldn’t be bothered to push it away from his eyes. He would be very attractive, if not for the splotchy bruises on his face, Elias thought to himself. His features were striking, all sharp angles and piercing eyes, his full lips parted slightly in fear.

“Oh, Allen.” Tyson breathed, his voice disdainful, upset at the state he was in. Recognition finally fell across his face, as if he couldn’t see who it was before he spoke.

“Tyson,” he whimpered, “you ca-came.” Relief coated his words, like he was expecting Tyson to say he didn’t want to come help him. Elias knew Tyson, knew the selfless way he cared for people, and if that’s what Allen was expecting, it was completely unrealistic.

“Of course.” Tyson reached to the side and flipped on one of the lights, which made Allen flinch horribly and squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. Elias was watching on with a pitiful interest, he had never seen someone so hurt, so scared. This August guy must’ve really done a number on him.

Elias followed close behind Tyson as he went to pull up a chair next to the bed, and Allen stared at him apprehensively. As if just remembering he was there, Tyson reached for his hand again as they sat down. “I forgot to introduce you, this is my boyfriend, Elias.” He shot him a fond look, and Elias smiled brightly back. He liked the sound of that, “his boyfriend”.

“Nice to finally meet you,” he spoke softly, trying not to startle him, “I’ve heard quite a bit about you. All good things.”

Allen nodded, dropping his head to look at the blanket and picking at a loose thread there. “Nice t-to meet you, too,” he stammered. “Ty, you didn’t uh...tell Leo, right? That I was here?”

“No,” Tyson assured him. “Did you want me to?” He sounded so comforting, so kind, just like he always did.

“No, I do-don’t think I’m ready to see him.”

They fell into a heavy silence after that, no one knowing what the right thing to say was. Eventually, Allen began to ask questions about their relationship, trying to get them to talk about themselves so he didn’t feel the attention on him. It worked for a while, up until Tyson had to excuse himself to the bathroom, and then Allen looked even more frightened as he realized he would be alone with Elias, a perfect stranger.

Elias ran through ways in his head of how to make Allen know that he meant no harm, that he wasn’t going to hurt him. Before he could think about it, he blurted, “I hope you don’t still like him.” He felt bad as soon as he said it, Allen was sitting in a hospital bed, covered in aches and pains, the last thing he needed was for Elias to interrogate him in his insecurity. He was surprised when Allen let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Who, Tyson?” He replied. Elias nodded half-heartedly. “No, I haven’t for awhile. D-don’t worry.”

Elias relaxed, leaning forward in his chair. “Ok, cause I really like him.” He bit his lip, a thoughtful look on his face. “He really cares about you. Maybe not in that way, but he really does. And that’s ok, cause you look like you could use someone who cares about you.”

Allen’s face softened, and he seemed to deflate from his afraid, panicked demeanor, at least a little. “I could. Th-thank you.”

Just then, Tyson walked in, smiling softly at the two of them. “Are you talking about me?” He teased, ruffling Elias’s blond hair as he walked past him to sit down.

“Us? Oh no, we were talking about football.” Elias joked. Tyson laughed, but Allen couldn’t even smile. He seemed glad for the company, but he didn’t look like he was used to being talked to, included in conversation.

“So, if you’re not staying with Leo right now, do you have somewhere to stay?” Tyson asked. Allen didn’t answer, didn’t even look up. He seemed like he was checked out, his thoughts somewhere else, very far from the safety of the hospital room. “Allen?”

Allen flinched at his own name, then looked up at him. “Sorry...what?”

“I said do you have a place to stay?”

Allen looked thoughtful, staring back at the wall. “Oh. Uh...I hadn’t thought about it, really. I g-guess once I start talking to Leo again...if he’ll even want to talk to me again…”

“Maybe you could stay with us,” he interrupted, already seeing where the anxious thought was headed, “Would that be ok, Eli?”

Elias nodded eagerly. He didn’t even realize that they were “us” at that point, as far as living together. It was nice to hear him phrase it that way. And he could tell from looking at Allen that he really needed a safe place to stay, and Tyson could definitely provide that.

Allen thanked them, then went quiet again. After a few moments, he sighed heavily, like simply existing was extremely taxing on his well being. “I always feel so l-lost without him.” He admitted. “I know I shouldn’t, b-but I just feel like I’m doing everything wrong and just d-don’t know.”

Elias assumed he was talking about August, and he felt bad. He couldn’t imagine how shitty it must feel to miss someone who had caused so much pain, damaged him so badly. Elias had been hurt and betrayed by people who were supposed to take care of him plenty of times, but he’d never missed them after, only looking back with resentment and anger.

“Yeah,” Tyson breathed. “I know it’s really rough on you. He really messed up your view of good and bad. But you’re doing great, someone will tell you if something isn’t ok, you’re not gonna be in trouble or anything.”

It was amazing, how Tyson could talk someone out of their panic so easily, how he seemed to know just what to say to assure them. Allen merely shrugged, clearly not as amazed as Elias was. “Leo probably hates me. I’m so afraid to call him.”

“We’ll figure that out when we get back. I’m sure he doesn’t, he’s probably just worried sick. You’ve got a tendency to do that to him.” He smiled softly at him, trying to get him to relax. It didn’t work.

Allen only had to be in the hospital for about an hour and a half after that, and then Tyson drove him and Elias back to his apartment. Elias glanced back at him every now and then, frowning when he saw he had pulled his hood over his eyes and was covering his ears with his hands. He turned the music down, thinking that maybe it was too loud, but Allen stayed tucked away into his little shell the rest of the ride back.

Finally, he was sitting at the kitchen table with his hands folded in front of him obediently as Tyson cooked them lunch. Elias came and sat with him at one point, smiling at him. “I really like your hair,” he said, “really suits your face.” He hoped that if he was nice enough, Allen would stop being so afraid and get comfortable. It was sad to see him looking so worried.

“Thank you.” Allen replied, almost mechanically.

Tyson joined them minutes later, setting a plate in front of Allen, who began staring at it trivially.

“What, you don’t like it?” Tyson teased. Even though he knew he was trying to ask it in a joking way so he wouldn’t freak Allen out, Elias could tell he was genuinely concerned. He hoped Allen knew that too.

Allen only frowned up at him, like he was too afraid to speak. He was so god damn quiet, Elias gathered. He didn’t know how, because Elias had been through his fair share of hard times and they all made him loud and pissed off. He couldn’t think of a single time that someone had treated him like garbage and he decided he would be quiet. He couldn’t tell if that signified that what happened to Allen was more dreadful than he could guess, or if they just handled things differently. He hopped, for Allen’s sake, that it was the ladder.

“N-no..I just uh...just…” he trailed off, picking up his fork with shaking hands. He looked like he was going to be sick, staring at the food. Elias tasted it, out of curiosity, but it was just fine.

“You just what?” Tyson prompted.

Allen had tears in his eyes as he stabbed through the food, staring at it in fear, like it was going to hurt him itself. For a moment, he looked like he was going to try to eat it, but then he dropped the fork to the plate with a clink and covered his face. “I’m s-sorry,” he choked out, “I really am.”

“Hey, it’s ok. Why don't you tell me what’s going on? We’ll figure it out.”

“J-just...last time someone gave me f-food, it was August, and he put something in it th-that made me sick for days... I just can’t stop thinking about that.”

Tyson and Elias exchanged a disgusted frown, not wanting to believe that someone would do that. “What a dick,” Elias remarked, “seriously, who the fuck does that?”

Allen shook his head, wiping at his tears furiously. “No, he only did it because I was doing something wrong. I d-deserved it.”

“Don’t say that. You did nothing wrong, Allen.”

He nodded at that, shutting himself up. Elias suddenly wasn’t hungry. None of them were.

“I think I need to call Leo,” Allen suddenly said, standing from the table. He grabbed his phone, then went outside.

Elias stood up and began helping Tyson clean up the untouched food from the table. He wondered if what he said upset Allen, that’s why he suddenly wanted to leave. It was true though, August was a dick for it, and there was nothing Allen could have done to warrant that kind of treatment. “Did I upset him?” Elias asked Tyson, a worried look on his face. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, love, it’s not your fault. He’s just fragile right now.” He sighed heavily as he set the plates into the sink, looking rather overwhelmed. “I know this is a lot to handle, thank you for being so cool about it.”

Before he could respond, Allen came back in, tears streaming down his face. “Leo’s coming to g-get me,” he murmured, leaning against the wall as if it was too hard to stand upright on his own, “thank you f-for everything.”

Tyson nodded at him, a look of relief slipping onto his face. “Oh, that’s good. How did talking to him go?”

Allen shrugged uselessly, not wanting to go into depth. He seemed exhausted, and no one could blame him, with what he’d been through. Tyson offered to walk him outside to meet Leo, and Elias sat inside by himself while he waited. He thought about how strange of a circumstance it was, usually when people met their partners ex, things were tense and awkward, but meeting Allen wasn’t like how he’d expect, he wasn’t jealous or insecure, he mainly just felt bad for the guy.

When Tyson came back inside, it was like they were both too afraid to talk about what happened, so they just turned on a movie instead, leaning against each other and pretending there was nothing to talk about.

[rightsockjin]

Here’s Number 13 with Yoongi! I hope y'all like it! 

Summary: A road trip with your life long friend takes an unexpected turn for the best...

Rating: T (Teen- suggestive)

Genre: Fluff and like a hint of what could be smut...

Warnings: The ending... that’s it. Nothing triggering I think. Oh someone gets smacked in the ass. So there’s that... um... partial nudity. Underwear. ok yea.

Submit a request!

Prompt list

“Can you just get in the damn car?”

Yoongi wasn’t exactly a patient person.

From the day that you met him in middle school-

Well really you had met him sometime in Primary school but you had both at some point agreed that the story you would tell people when they asked when you two had met was that you met in middle school.

That being because well... you guys hated each other.

Kind of.

Yoongi hated you and you... well you didn’t take well to being hated.

That being said, when you guys did end up becoming friends, it was Yoongi who had proposed it after years of what he put as “rivalry”.

He’d asked you to share a Sunday with him and you guys spent the whole afternoon talking.

One thing led to another and from then on you were inseparable.

“But look at the sky,” you said, pointing at the stars as they had begun to ebb away with the moon.

It was slightly purple and pink and a little orange.

The sun was still too low to be seen but it was painting the sky prettily.

“We can look at the stars some other time. We’re gonna be late.”

You rolled your eyes as a shiver went through your whole body.

It was your annual winter road trip and every year, without fail, you refused to bring a thick enough coat.

“Late to what? We don’t even have a destination dude.”

Maybe it was because you-

Pft.

You couldn’t even think of a good excuse for yourself anymore.

In all honesty-

Which is something you had started to do recently.

Honestly.

-you realized at some point on the last road trip that it was because you liked it much better when Yoongi groaned... then smiled... and gave you his.

“Late to the beginning.”

Ooooooookaaayyy?

Whatever what meant.

“Yoongi... are you sure that you got enough sleep?”

Yoongi shrugged.

“Probably. I slept from like three until six,” he said, as you ripped your eyes from the beautiful sky.

“That’s three hours,” you gaped through the rolled down window.

The car hummed softly. The warmth emanating from the engine transferred from the aura surrounding it into your bones.

But not your teeth.

They... were chattering something fierce.

“Yo-you’re fucking joking right?”

When he didn’t answer you made an ugly noise somewhere in the back of your throat and hit the roof of his-

1988 maroon thunderbird

(And don’t you forget it)

(...it’s his baby)

(It even has a name)

-car.

Yoongi’s hooded eyes shot wide open in surprise and what you knew to be anger because- well-

Let’s face it.

Yoongi has one facial expression and it’s usually somewhere between annoyed and indifferent.

He was the picture of a human grumpy cat with softer eyes.

Dark hair...

Soft...skin....

Where were you?

Oh yeah!

Yoongi glared at you. His nostrils flared.

“Did you just hit Jisu?”

His voice was even.

It wavered not.

And neither would you.

He was a big softy. Yoongi was all bark and no bite. Even his bark was reminiscent of a Chihuahua.

And not one of those feisty ones. More like one of the rat things that had no hair and barked under their breath when you tried to pet them.

...without teeth...

...with their tongue sticking out....

“Yoongi... it’s a car.”

“Y/N... it’s my pride and joy.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever. I’m not getting in your death trap when you haven't had a proper eight hours, Yoongles.”

“Listen, Squirt,” he began and waves upon waves of distaste rolled over your spine. Your skin pimpled as a blush rose to your cheeks.

You HATED when he called you...

*shiver*

*gag*

Squirt

“...and you know that I do NOT like when people hit her! She’s beat up enough as it is without having people like you smacking on her-“

SMACK

You’d hit the front hood a little harder than you would have regularly just to shut him up.

A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. His lips fell open like he couldn’t really be bothered to hold it closed.

His pink tongue poked out slightly over his teeth.

He clicked, then-

“Okay fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yep.”

...you-what?

“Yes what?”

He pursed his lips and crossed his arms behind the stealing wheel.

“The road trip is canceled.”

You gaped at him.

D:

Like that.

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and turned the engine off.

Slowly, but resolutely, he opened the driver’s side door and stepped out of the car.

“I-wha- Wait! Yoongi,” you ran around the front to where he stood.

He slammed the car door shut but he wasn’t angry. He patted the roof of the car affectionately, his back turned to you.

“...you can’t cancel-“

“Well you won’t get in the Jisu with me behind the wheel and you don’t know how to drive a fucking stick shift... what else is there to do?”

He was teasing you.

There was no way that he would cancel.

It was tradition after all.

And he would NEVER break tradition.

Well ok-

Yoongi wasn’t usually traditional.

Unless it came to you and your friendship.

He’s violently loyal to the point that one time-

When some guy had asked you out, upon your confirmation, promptly spanked your ass in the middle of home room, he’d stood without hesitation and slapped the dude’s ass back.

He’d gotten detention for a month.

The other guy, a month and a slap to the ass.

There was also a time when a nasty rumor was going around the school that that same guy and you were in a very... presumptuous position and your reputation had been shot.

Most of your other friends had believed it but not Yoongi.

Yoongi went around shooting nasty looks at anyone who dared say a bad word about you.

That’s when things had changed.

In retrospect.

For you at least. You doubt anything had changed for Yoongi.

But for you... that summer... the one of your junior year... changed everything.

No one was talking to you anymore. Your girls were now-

The Bitches ™️

And the only friend you had was Yoongi.

Your yoongi.

He’d become that then.

Yours...

Even though it wasn’t your place to make him so.

But you couldn’t help it. He’d changed. He’s grown an inch.

He’d started to work out-

And then stopped at the request of his mother because his clothing wasn’t fitting him and honestly Yoongi’s family didn’t have enough money to buy new threads-

-and for some ungodly reason, his father had given him his car and his now favorite cowhide leather jacket.

Vintage.

Let’s get that straight people.

It is vintage. Not old.

It was something in the way he listened to you.

With gentle nods and sarcasm at the ready.

It was his fake laugh.

And his laughter...

And the beautiful mornings

The way his gums popped out when you were falling asleep after pulling an all nighter under the stars.

It was his essence.

“I-well... but the road trip is-“

“Over unless you miraculously acquired the ability to drive stick or...”

He paused, looking at you over his leather clad shoulder.

“You get in Jisu, settle the snacks and apologize.”

You huffed. Your breath is visible in the early morning sky.

“I...” it was like being gutted.

Like a fish.

A cold dead fish...

“Am sorry.”

Whew.

That was tough but now you didn’t have to worry about him being salty all the way to-

“Not to me,” Yoongi said, interrupting your thoughts.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Apologize to Jisu.”

“The car?” You said under your breath.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, a smug gum smile in place, “the car.”

You deflated.

He wasn’t kidding.

That was the worst part.

He genuinely wanted you to apologize to…

Jisu

The car.

With embarrassment filling your empty stomach-

Well save for your heart which was digesting nicely!

-you sighed and said:

“Jisu... sweet... old... rundown-“

“Watch it,” Yoongi groaned.

“Fine! I’m sorry I hit you. It was rude of me. Will you ever forgive me and let me ride you?”

There was a pause in which you processed your own words.

You hadn’t meant to.

And really, if your mind wasn’t in the gutter it would have meant nothing but your Innuendo hung in the freezing air around you.

Damn were you good at saying stupid shit.

Yoongi cleared his throat and moved closer to you.

Your heart-

Now in a puddle.

-skipped a beat.

Your cheeks rouged.

He wasn’t touching you but you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. The warmth contrasted strangely with the coolness of the morning.

God... what you would give for his lips to touch you.

For his hands to graze your skin.

To wrap around your waist-

“WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT JISU DOES NOT ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY AND FEELS HARASSED!”

D:

You jumped a foot in the air.

Your arms flung around you in fear. Your elbow hit against something.

Pain shot through your arm.

You turned only to see Yoongi holding his shoulder-

The one someone had nearly run over a couple years ago and he’d had problems with since.

-and your panic soared.

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Why did you fucking yell in my ear dumb ass!”

Regardless of your harsh words, you rushed over to his side as his face screwed up in pain.

Pain you caused.

Fuck.

But he was laughing.

He couldn’t be that badly hurt could he?

“If your next question is if I’ll let you ride me the answer is a hard yes.”

Humiliation and anger rushed through your veins and into your fingertips.

Of their own accord, they began to smack every part of him they could reach.

“HEY! Why does Jisu get a better apology than me?!”

“Because Jisu is a girl and not an ass!”

It was in the way you always got the same taco from the corner stores and also rolled your eyes when he mentioned your addiction to strong coffee.

It was the way you snorted lightly-

And sometimes not so lightly.

-as he drove into the day.

It was the way you were drooling in that exact moment as the sun hit your pretty face and the seat was pulled back as far as it could possibly go.

Or maybe it was none of those things.

Or all of them.

Yoongi had lost track if he was honest.

Of all the things that made him wish he could tell you how he felt.

That he loved the moles that covered your body.

The shine from your hair after it was freshly dried.

He loved your musky perfume and the lotions you’d purchased in bulk because:

“If I like it might as well buy 12 of them.”

He loved your logic and the lack thereof.

He loved your style.

The way you refused to “ruin” an outfit with a jacket if it didn’t match and how- without fail- you always wore whatever jacket he handed you completely disregarding what you always said.

Like the one that he had lain over your trembling body as you slept when he’d stopped to use the restroom.

It was his dad’s.

It was old-

Vintage as you liked to say.

(Or bugged him by saying any time he tried to say it was old.)

It was riddled with discoloration.

It was his most prized possession.

Right after his car.

And you.

Though he’d never admit it.

And seeing you inside the car with his jacket draped over you like a blanket was doing things to him that he couldn’t comprehend.

It was like being enveloped in silk and velvet after a nice hot bath filled with lavender and rosewood and vanilla.

It was like soft musk caressing the folds of his brain, sending dopamine straight to the pleasure center of his cranium.

What he would give to touch you.

... in a less than platonic way.

The way your jaw stayed placidly open was also doing things to him.

This much less... soft

And a lot more

Well there’s no sugar coating.

Hard.

You stirred in your slumber.

His thoughts jarred to a stop.

You blinked then woke slowly. Confusion was evident in your eyes.

Quickly replaced by realization.

You looked down at the leather on your body.

The slightest smile pulled at your pretty lips.

You didn’t sit up.

You curled your small hands into the leather and snuggled against the softness.

“Morning,” you said, your voice slightly higher pitched.

A shiver ran through his nerves. His skin pimpled.

“You mean midday,” he corrected with a chastising roll of his eyes but the corners of his lips pulled up.

Fuck.

You.

...WAIT NO!

He shook his head, trying to keep his eyes forward and his mind on the road.

“Same difference,” you grumbled, pushing your arms through the sleeves of the jacket the wrong way.

Your short fingers stuck out at the edge.

A brief image of those same fingers pumping and wrapped around his-

“When’s lunch? I’m starving.”

He swallowed thickly.

“Well we ate maybe like four hours ago... “

“Exactly. I need food,” you said, righting your seat.

“We have snacks,” he said.

“But like... I want a burger.”

“Isn’t it too early for your road trip burger?”

Because every single road trip without fail, you both stopped at your favorite burger place and ate but it was only once in the whole road trip and you usually liked to save it for the road trip back to wherever you had come from for that year so you had something to look forward to.

“Mmmm, I’m feeling a shift in the matrix,” you said.

“Do you even know what the matrix is? Have you seen that movie?”

Offended, you turned to Yoongi.

He stayed facing the front.

“I LOVE Tom Cruise.”

“He’s not in that movie genius.”

You were silent for a second. Your eyes were wide.

“Hm... could have sworn....”

He smiled at the sun almost right above the car. There was not a cloud in the sky and he didn’t feel the least bit tired.

On the other hand he felt completely rejuvenated.

After a couple of miles, Yoongi let his smile settle and he cleared his throat as u set up your favorite road trip playlist.

You glance at him.

“You might wanna wipe the drool from your cheek by the way.”

“Fu-damn it Yoongi, why didn’t you say something earlier?”

It was raining.

Heavily.

Sadly, no men in sight aside from your long time friend.

Though...

Maybe not so sadly.

It had only been a couple more hours.

You had stopped for your burger.

And the sun was up and then-

BOOM

Thunderstorm.

Honestly, you were slightly worried.

Yoongi had been driving for a total of about ten hours that day and he’d been running on three hours of sleep.

You guys still had a couple more days of road trip to go.

Usually they lasted around three to four depending on how annoying you are being. And that’s counting the drive back home.

But at this rate... you guys might have to turn back early.

Now, you had no real clue where you guys were headed.

You never really did.

Yoongi never told you.

But it was cool.

Cool cool cool cool cool

Totally cool.

You trusted him and he had never led you astray.

Though... that one time when you guys got lost for nearly a week because he refused to check the GPS was kind of astray....

Anyway.

You never doubted he had good plans.

He’d taken you to amusement parks and landmarks and historical sights just for the hell of it.

He’d taken you wonderful places so you had never questioned him.

This time... you really, really wanted to know if a thunderstorm was even worth it.

You opened your mouth to ask but were instantly shushed.

Taken aback your eyes widened.

Again you tried to speak but one of Yoongi’s fingers came up to your lips to keep you silent.

“Look it’s coming down hard and I really cannot focus when you speak.”

You crossed your arms, his leather jacket rumpled slightly as it rubbed against itself after you had put it on correctly.

It smelled so much like him.

The leather smell permeated through your nostrils. But under it was something else. Something woody and fresh that was so... Yoongi, it made your head spin.

You frowned but settled in your seat with your mouth shut.

Soft lo-fi filled the air in the car.

You were no longer cold.

For obvious reasons which didn’t include the heating because it was broken in the car.

But you felt a shiver of fear run down your spine.

Yoongi’s black hoodie seemed darker now that the sky was cloudy.

It was pulled up to his elbows, his forearms out in the open-

As if that wasn’t illegal or some shit.

- and flexed slightly. His veins, prominent.

Another chill ran down your body.

This time... for a reason completely unrelated to your circumstances.

It was going to be a long drive.

The car broke.

Jisu broke.

It was about time it did too.

Though Yoongi was having a hard time.

Honestly... he was tearing up.

Or at least, you thought he was.

But he refused to look at you as the tow truck dropped you off at the nearest motel.

It was still raining ugly and you were still unbelievably cold.

Though maybe you were playing it up a little so that Yoongi would put up with you cuddling into his side.

It was partially for you but it was also for him.

He didn’t want to admit it but you knew.

You knew he needed something to ground him.

What better to do that with than with yourself?

“We’re here,” the driver said, squinting through the downpour.

“Thanks again for the lift,” you said since you knew Yoongi wouldn’t speak in fear of his voice breaking.

“Well you gotta pay darlin’” the driver said with a wink in your direction.

“But you’re welcome nonetheless. I can try to get you closer if you would like. Wouldn’t want you and your boyfriend getting a cold.”

A deep crimson blush filled the blood vessels in your cheeks and neck.

Your throat closed.

You coughed.

On instinct you pushed Yoongi away and made a disgusted face.

Yoongi’s nose twitched, his shoulders slumped.

“We- were not-“

“She’s single,” Yoongi said, his voice much stronger than you expected it to be.

“Friends,” he clarified.

Disappointment flooded your mind.

Friends. And that was that.

“I’m sorry but we only have one room available for the night,” the clerk said.

There was only one room?

“Does it at least have two beds?” Yoongi asked, giving you a worried look over his shoulder.

His hair was slicked to his head.

Waving slightly.

“I’m sorry sir,” the clerk said, “it’s a single queen bed. That’s really all we have.”

There’s only one bed????

What the fuck kind of fan fiction were you living in?

What are the damn odds?

Being friends since forever ago did not mean that you had shared a bed before.

There had always been a line that you didn’t-

Couldn’t

Wouldn’t

-cross.

This was by no means normal.

You glanced around the lobby trying to avoid looking at your friend.

“Well... okay. Shit. Yeah give me the room,” Yoongi said under his breath as if you, not hearing him, would make up for him taking the room.

He didn’t want you to think he’d planned this.

He hadn’t.

Why would he have?

How could he have?

He can’t control the fucking weather.

Regardless, as he got the key to the room he couldn’t help but feel sleazy.

He paid then thanked the clerk.

You were shivering.

Damn you and your insistence on not wearing a damn jacket.

His wasn’t enough.

You needed a shower. A warm one.

Your lips were nearly blue.

Without hesitation, he picked up his duffle and your rolling suitcase.

He casually walked up to you and wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders.

The leather was wet.

And now ten times colder.

He led you to the hallways of rooms on the first floor.

It was the last room in the far corner.

Yoongi had thought of multiple scenarios in which you guys ended up in a room together but never had he thought it would be while you guys were “just friends”.

You shivered under the weight of his arm.

“Come on, Squirt. Let’s get you in dry clothes.”

There were two things you hated:

Being cold,

And

Yoongi calling you Squirt.

Yet, this time... you were grateful for the cold.

And for the nickname.

Was it-

*gasp*

Growing on you?

Yoongi opened the door and with it came the strong scent that inevitably came with hotels.

To you, it had always been kind of comforting.

Like family trips and new adventures.

Today though, it smelled very much like nerves and fear and something shifting in the air.

It felt like nothing was moving.

Even as you stepped into the room and onto the slightly too dark green carpet, it felt like the world around you both had stopped turning.

Yoongi’s arm fell from around you and you mourned the loss.

You listened rather than watched him bring the bags in.

It was somewhere between 60-70 degrees and the wetness of your hair was seeping into your scalp.

Still, you refused to take off the jacket that was growing heavier and heavier as the rain soak in.

“Hey Y/N, give me the jacket.”

You spun around as he set down the luggage. He held a hand out.

Suddenly, you really didn’t want to get rid of it.

It felt like your second skin.

“Uh... but I’m cold,” you argued.

“And if you stay in that jacket you’re going to catch a cold. Hand it over.”

He curled his fingers in a “come hither” motion.

Your throat went dry.

Then, as if under a spell, you pulled the slightly heavy leather off of you and handed it off.

Yoongi watched you remove the jacket in a trance-like state.

You were staring at his hand.

He felt the fabric fall into his palm but he wasn’t looking.

He was staring, mouth open at your shirt.

Your white, long sleeve, wet, shirt.

And you know.

We all know…

What happens when a white shirt gets wet.

And now, Yoongi had the full boob-

PROOF

(dude that doesn’t even sound the same)

He had the full proof.

He blinked owlishly, glued to the way the fabric stuck to your chest.

He could see the skin tone bra that you were wearing.

The lines of your stomach visible lightly.

All the blood rushed to one of two places.

You know which.

Don’t lie.

He pressed the cold jacket against his body so that it covered what was quickly growing.

You watched him curiously as his mouth shut with a click.

You followed his gaze as goosebumps covered your arms.

That’s when you saw it.

And embarrassment wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what you felt.

You crossed your arms over your chest but you couldn’t turn away.

There was something else running through your veins aside from the humiliation.

Hope.

Because Yoongi wasn’t turning away and you weren’t stupid either.

You could see the strategic way that he was holding the slightly dripping jacket right in front of his…

Area…

And he had taken his eyes off your chest and now wasn’t even looking at you.

In a sudden burst of confidence-

And let's be honest, probably terrible judgement.

-you shimmied out of your shirt and balled it up.

Without letting yourself think of it too much before you chickened out, you tossed it right at his chest area.

Since it was wet, it made a wet-

PLOP

On his shoulder.

Confusion was clear on his expressionless face as he looked at the fabric.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes in question then did a double take.

You licked your lips nervously but tried to keep your nerves at bay.

This was normal.

You always hung out in your bra with your oldest friend.

Everyday things…

Pft.

Easy.

“Wh-what are you doing,” Yoongi asked, his voice wavering.

“The shirt was soaked through. I thought that I should get out of it as well.”

Then mustering all of your courage, you unbutton your jeans.

The pop of the button was unnaturally loud in your ears.

The zipper was deafening.

“W-wait! Y/N what the fuck?”

You looked up trying to keep your ‘this is totally normal’ look on your face.

“Getting out of my wet clothes. Isn’t that what you said for me to do?”

“I said to get out of my jacket,” he said harshly, using it to gesture at you half naked. Your fingers hooked on the waistband of your jeans.

“Well the logic follows, doesn’t it? Wet jacket,wet shirts, wet pants…”

You pushed them down your legs without looking at him.

“Off.”

You heard him hiss under his breath.

Fear gripped you as the cold air of the room hit your skin which was a little moist.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” Yoongi began.

There was anger in his voice.

“But whatever it is. It’s not funny,” he finished throwing the jacket onto the floor.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked into the restroom.

Your heart sank.

D:

It was later in the night and you were huddled under the white blankets of the queen bed and Yoongi had yet to come out of the restroom.

You had thought you’d heard some low grunts coming from the restroom but then the shower had turned on and you heard nothing but the rain and the water.

Of course, unbeknownst to you, the grunts were very real.

Very much soft-

(in volume)

- for a reason.

And very much because of you.

It was when it was getting too intense that Yoongi decided to take a cold shower to calm down his hormones.

Still, he had decided to stay in the restroom for most of the night.

He was a night person anyway.

Always got his best thinking done when the moon was full and up.

This was no different.

He sat on the toilet seat, his legs spread wide and his elbows on his knees.

He was in his underwear and the shirt he had worn all day.

He hadn’t gotten the courage to walk out.

Not with the humiliation of having beat one out

(well not completely just a little bit)

(not that he was...little…)

To you in a bathroom while you were partially naked in the next room.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

Were you just so comfortable with him that you guys had crossed the friendship line to the point of no return?

Or were you attracted to him and that was some grand gesture?

Either way, he was terrified to guess wrong.

Why had he thought that this year would be different?

Why had he thought he could sweep you away on some romantic road trip in his crappy old car when he didn’t know the first thing about being romantic?

His idea of romantic was throwing a vintage-

Old.

let's call it how it is.

Old jacket on you when you were asleep.

It was spanking that asshole who had smacked your ass all those years ago.

And sticking by you when your other friends turned away from you.

It was branding them the Bitches and making sure that you knew that you hadn’t been at fault for the rumors.

Romantic Yoongi held your hand through your first year of collage and held your hair back the first time you drank too much.

It was him tucking you in when you guys spent all night out looking at the stars.

It was taking care of you when you were sick.

It was…

Throwing his prized jacket on you when you were cold…

And sacrificing his jacket so that the rain didn’t hit you directly even thought that might ruin it…

...

So he could see how you guys were confused.

Because isn’t that what friends did all the time?

Take care of each other?

And now, he had crossed a line he couldn’t get back from.

It was too late.

He’d missed his window-

If there was any window to begin with.

He’d missed it.

And maybe he just needed to be okay with that.

When you woke up, it was still super dark.

You half expected it to still be night but when you reached for your phone you realized that it was nearly noon and Yoongi hadn’t woken you.

You sat up, forgetting that you had slept in your underwear.

The sheets slipped from your top, the bra still on.

Suffice to say, your chest hurt.

Instinctively, you reached behind you to unclasp the bra but-

“Hey-hey-hey! Man in the room,” you heard from somewhere.

Your hands halted, still groggy, you blinked in the darkness.

“What man? All I hear is a grumpy Yoongi,” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyelids.

A sigh.

A groan.

Then a lamp turned on before you.

The light hit your sensitive eyes. You blinked against the brightness and when you could finally comfortably open your eyes, your jaw dropped.

Yoongi-

Your Yoongi was sitting in the beige armchair.

His pale legs were spread wide.

His boxers-

He was wearing boxers…

!!!!

-were far too loose and hung on his thighs.

From your position, you could see his bulge though it was clearly not hard, or at least not entirely.

Still, the fabric was pulled over it.

His chest was covered with a white T-shirt.

His arms were on the arm rests.

Your mouth fell open.

Water…

God you needed water.

You looked around you but there was not a single glass in sight.

“I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve realized, Squirt but I am very much a man.”

You avoided his eyes.

“I try not to think of you that way.” you mumbled, pulling the sheets up to your chest.

Lying through your teeth…

You know..

Like a liar.

There was a pause.

“Why are you so shy all of a sudden? Last night you had no problem stripping in front of me.”

You froze.

What...what was happening here?

“You- you seemed less than happy about that if I recall correctly,” you said then when he said nothing you added, “and don’t call me Squirt.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

And ran a hand through his hair.

It stood on end.

Fuck.

Fuck….

He looked so hot.

“Only because you caught me off guard. Now,” he gestured between himself  and you, his fingers conveniently pointing towards…

“We’re even.”

Even?

Even?

“So if you were to take off something else, I’d have to as well. For fairness. Of course.”

You-

Did he-

D:

“We-Fair? Do- Do you hear yourself right now?”

You scrunch your nose.

You smelled something fishy.

Veerry...veeery fishy.

“Yes I speak korean, Y/N. The question is,” he stood, his boxers settling over his long legs, his shirt was tucked slightly into the elastic at his hips.

Where were you supposed to look?

The muscles on his arms.

His thighs, begging you to ride-

Or somewhere in the middle?

He had to know what he was doing to you.

He had to know that walking around in the loosest pair of boxers would draw your eyes straight to the center of his legs.

He wasn’t stupid.

So what angle was he playing?

(Acute ;])

“...Do you?”

He was by your side now. Your face was level with his stomach.

How does one react when your closest friend of your whole life is suddenly very close to naked in front of y-

…

Ohhhhhhhhhh....

“This is about me stripping yesterday...isn’t it?”

You held the covers up to your chest awkwardly.

Suddenly, you felt really stupid.

You shouldn’t have stripped without his consent.

You just really thought that...if you pushed a little, He’d see you as more than just “That girl that he hated in elementary school and is now stuck to him like gum.”

Did you just make that up?

Yeah.

Okay.

Moving on…

“What do you think,” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The muscles flexed under the white. Behind him, through the mirror, you could see his back side reflected.

Sculpted.

Fucking damn it.

If he was going to reject you couldn’t he have done it with pants on??

“I think…” but you couldn’t think. It was too much.

Too soon.

Too quickly.

You were on the edge of spilling the beans.

Teetering on a cliff and you couldn’t see the ground.

Was it ocean below?

You didn’t know.

You shook your head and forced yourself to look into his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Yoongles… I’m sorry,” you said.

His smug smile fell.

A small frown pulled at his lips and his shoulders slumped.

Yoongi had made a choice. He’d decided he was going to push.

He’d decided it was time to tell you.

This coming after he got a call fairly early in the morning about the car needing a part that wasn’t available and they wouldn’t be handing him Jisu that day.

Meaning… you guys were stuck together for another day.

In a motel.

Alone.

With nothing to do.

This was why he’d decided to wait for you in his boxers.

You’d made the first move and now it was his turn.

He’d hoped you would reciprocate.

But he had clearly been wrong.

It wasn’t that you were trying to seduce him.

No…

You had simply grown too comfortable with each other and your state of half dress had nothing to do with hidden feelings for him.

Well, he supposed that at least he hadn’t declared his love for you like he’d planned to do initially…

...as much as  saying “Hey, I kind of wouldn’t mind going out with you”-

(this was a big deal because Yoongi avoided leaving his house at all costs… in all honesty, he hated road trips but you made it bearable and even a little fun)

- could be considered declaring his love for you.

He didn’t think he could handle the look of disgust on your cute face as he told you he had feelings for you.

Feelings…

What a joke.

Maybe this was for the best.

If you stayed friends, then it was probable that you guys would never stop talking to each other.

Another thing he couldn’t handle was losing you.

“It’s no fun if you just apologize, Squirt,” he said after a brief pause, choosing to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

You sighed.

He’d confirmed your worst fear.

He didn’t like you.

Not in the way you liked him.

And you’d made him uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to take it back and give you the wrong answer then? You know, for your pride?”

Yoongi sighed then chuckled.

“Would you? It would really make my day.”

You smiled up at your friend.

Like two pieces of a puzzle you had fallen back into your old dynamic.

It was almost like you guys weren’t standing half naked in front of each other.

“Anything to make your day, Yoongles.”

In a second, Yoongi had scooted you over. The other side of the bed was cold but you didn’t mind.

He slipped under the covers next to you.

He’d settled under them, his body faced towards you before he spoke again. A small smile on his soft baby lips.

“Is it weird that I’m starting to like when you call me ‘Yoongles’?”

You mirrored his position, putting a hand under your head. Your chest was slightly exposed, still covered by the sheets but he didn’t look down and you didn’t mind.

“No… is it weird I’m starting to like you calling me Squirt?”

“No,” he confirmed with a slight shrug.

A comfortable silence built up between you. Your eyes started to feel heavy.

Tentatively, Yoongi reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His soft touch made you fall further into the land of sleep.

When your breath had evened out, Yoongi tapped your nose then traced your slightly parted lips.

This road trip hadn’t gone how he wanted it to.

Not by a long shot.

But he couldn't say he was totally disappointed.

As you slept, he felt his own eyes begin to close. His eyelids were heavy.

He fell into the comfortable darkness not too long after you did.

You guys were friends.

And maybe, he just had to accept that.

Maybe it was for the best.

And maybe… just maybe… he could grow to be okay with it.

Some day.

Don’t hate me....

Masterlist

[ttttaehyungie]

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 4

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series masterlist

sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 4.2k

chapter rating | PG-13

warnings | none

a/n | IM SO SORRY this is late 😔😔 skldjflkj i was trying to get this out for namjoon’s bday butttt i failed HAHAH sighz life just threw consecutive curveballs my way ok but here we go!!!! part foouuuurrrr

If you thought things between you and Namjoon would be awkward, well, they were. Undeniably and unbearably awkward. The silence stretched long between you without Hoseok to fill the space. Maybe you should have reserved some topics of idle chatter instead of expending them all during last night’s dinner. Maybe you should have asked Namjoon to come over after Hoseok’s dance class. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to hang out at all.

Wistful regretting will get you nowhere. You know that. But you indulge in it all the same, stirring your straw and watching the ice cubes in your latte swirl and clink against the sides of the glass. Pointedly keeping your eyes trained on your half-full cup and off the man seated at your shared table in the cafe, his fingers thrumming nervously on said table, you feel a twinge of guilt. How long will you let this silence drag on?

It’s not for the lack of trying. You’re trying. You really are. And you know that Namjoon is too. Small talk just seems to evade you. And deeper issues are off the table, for now at least. Not until you’re sure that he’s not going to abruptly drop out of your life again. Although you’ve agreed to give him a second chance at friendship, the emotional shields were still difficult to lower.

Flicking your eyes to your watch for the thousandth time that afternoon, the unease only gnaws at you further when you realize that the minute hand has scarcely ticked forward by two minutes. Forty more minutes to go. It feels like it’ll be a lifetime before Hoseok is done.

As Hoseok’s weekend trip came to an end, you wondered if the hangouts with Namjoon would experience a similar fate.

But then again, it’s not Hoseok whose friendship he was looking to rebuild. That had never ended. It was just yours. So should you really have been surprised when he invited you out for lunch midweek when Hoseok was miles away back home and away from the city?

You had to give him credit. When he said that he would do anything he could to attempt to make reconciliation happen, the guy had really meant it.

The first couple of lunches together - lunches that you dragged yourself to because you had agreed to give him a second chance - were a total cringefest.

Namjoon was the one who pushed through it with unwavering perseverance. And that was what spurred you to continue trying.

It’s not like you don’t enjoy his company. You do. It’s hard not to, really. Not when his dimpled smile and rounded pleading eyes are as disarming as they are. Namjoon has always been a good listener, always making you feel valued for your ideas no matter the frivolity, but lately he’s picked up this habit of bending down to your height, tipping his chin down just so so he can peer up at you with the most puppy dog look ever and you just- you can’t handle it.

It’s devastating. It’s irresistible. It’s a bulldozer through all the walls you’ve put up over the years, smashing them to rubble in a matter of weeks.

And so the lunches you used to drag yourself to became lunches to be anticipated. The text conversations that began in stiff formality soon gave way to a barrage of emojis and typos left uncorrected, and you find your walls gradually giving way too. The two of you had always shared an easy chemistry, something that hasn’t faded with the years and unaffected by the breakup.

The breakup was the one thing that still remained taboo.

Well if he hadn’t wanted to speak about it in the time leading up to your breakup back then, why would he want to talk about it now?

You know you’ve chosen to forgive him. But the residual bitterness still sits much like the dredges at the bottom of your daily morning cup of coffee. Unprovoked, it would be fine. It lies dormant so long as nothing shakes it up.

And you’re not going to shake it up. Because you’re over Namjoon.

“Ke- ketchup?!” Namjoon sputters, jaw dropped and eyes wide. “I know it’s been five years, but damn…”

“What?” Your tone is defensive, but your facial expression is irrefutably sheepish as you drag a fry through the offensive red condiment you’d just squeezed onto your plate.

“What ever happened to the vendetta against ketchup?” he asks, still gaping at sight of you consuming the very thing you’d once condemned as unworthy of being ingested.

You shrug and answer simply, “Lots of things can change in five years.”

It was just meant to be a passing comment, nothing more. But Namjoon seems to take in the sight of you afresh, then nods emphatically.

“That, it can.”

The noise that escapes you is tiny, hopefully indiscernible, as he places an elbow on the table, suddenly leaning forward with his chin in hand, hovering over his half-eaten club sandwich. Determinedly refraining from shifting a little in your seat under his scrutinizing gaze, the words of protest sit heavy on your tongue as you keep a tight grip on them much in the same stubborn manner. You will not break. You’re over him.

“You’ve changed,” he says, gaze still roving over you. It’s not an accusation in the slightest, but more of an observation. “And it’s not just the ketchup.”

“Thank god. If the only character growth I’ve made in the past five years is learning to consume ketchup, then that’d be a real problem.”

He laughs - the staccato hah odd but familiar - and reclines back, elbow propped casually against the back of the chair now.

“But for real,” he says, gesturing with his sandwich-filled hand, the crumbs go flying all over the table. He takes a pause as he stuffs the entirety of it in his mouth, his cheeks bulging with the too-big-mouthful. It’s amazing how he doesn’t choke, but he manages, gulping it down so he can continue. “It’s like you’re more comfortable in your own skin now somehow.”

“Hm,” you ponder between your own bites of your burger, “what do you mean by that?”

“You just seem more sure of who you are lately.”

You purse your lips at that. After the breakup, you finally stopped chasing Joon’s shadow and embarked on your own journey of self-discovery. But you can’t tell him that.

“Maybe,” you offer instead. “I could say the same about you. About having changed, I mean.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you emphasize, jabbing towards him with a fry. “It feels like -” same fry still in hand, you tap it against your lip as you think through your words, then point it at him again as it comes to you - “like you’re finally letting the words out. You’ve always had this really deep inner world - god knows how many times I’ve lost you mid-conversation to your daydreaming - but now you actually verbalize it.”

The poor fry that’s been waved all around as you gesticulated your thoughts finally gets popped into your mouth. “And it’s nice. It’s nice having a peek into the landscapes of your mind.”

“Maybe it comes with publishing,” he jokes, but his eyes shine with unsaid appreciation at your words.

Your heartbeat stutters a little at the sight of it, but you ignore it. Because you’re over him.

You’re over him. You’re over him, you’re over him, you’re over him.

That’s what you remind yourself, smacking your cheeks as if the sting of it would resonate the words into your stupid brain and make. it. stick.

Sighing out to yourself in the bathroom, you ready yourself to return to the living room. To return to Namjoon.

Yes, it’s pathetic, but you’re hiding in the bathroom away from Namjoon.

Steeling your nerves, you twist the lock and pad your way trepidly back to the sofa where Namjoon sits.

Feigning normalcy, you take a seat next to him and tap away at your phone for a distraction.

Underneath you, the cushions shift and jostle you lightly with the shift in Namjoon’s weight as he scoots closer to you. His warmth bleeds into you where his thigh presses against yours. At least he’s got his pants back on.

“____.”

You look up at him.

“Are you really ok?” His eyes are full of emotion - concern, repentance, sincerity - as they search yours.

“It’s fine, Joon.”

It’s not.

Maybe you were being too naive when you thought you could just be friends. That whatever existed between you two before all this would never get in the way. That the same memories that plague you don’t similarly affect Namjoon.

It had all been going well before this came in like a bucket of cold water dousing you in shock from head to toe.

Namjoon sat in your bed, blankets pooled around his waist to conceal his bottom half. His pantsless bottom half. Not that it took particular prominence in your mind, you dismiss, as you focus on pulling the thread through.

It seems Namjoon’s reputation as the god of destruction lives on. And neither his pants nor his ego are safe from it. What began as an afternoon of dorky fun, attempting to reproduce Hoseok’s latest choreography video (and poorly), peaked into hilarity when Namjoon’s pants spontaneously decided they would have no more of what can barely be termed as dancing. With a sharp ripping noise, his pants seam tore straight down the middle.

The way his eyes shot wide, his hands flying to shield his crotch, had you doubling over in laughter till your sides hurt and you had to gasp to catch your breath between peals of laughter. He whined for you to stop, but it only made it all that much funnier.

The occasional giggle still escaped you, but eventually you calmed down enough to offer to patch it up for him, brandishing the sewing kit you retrieved from the depths of your closet.

And that’s how he ended up hiding under the covers while you mended the rip in his berms.

A chuckle - this time not your own - breaks your concentration.

“What’s so funny?” you ask.

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Hey.” You elbow him lightly. “Share the joke.”

He bites his lip as he considers it for a second. Prodding him once more, it makes him relent.

“I mean, I imagined being undressed in your bed again, but I definitely didn’t think it would be like this.”

Oh.

Oh.

It registers somewhere in the back of your mind that it is pretty funny. But your laugh sounds hollow, even in your ears. Dropping your gaze back to your stitching, to the sewing that you’ve completed, but you repeat the stitch on the same spot a couple more times. It’s unnecessary, but it’s all you have to hold on to right now in the midst of your shock.

But you can only do this for so long before it reveals itself for the irrationality it is. Knotting it up and snipping the thread hastily, you pass the article of clothing back to Namjoon as you rise from where you were perched on the edge of the bed, the action taking him by surprise.

“Here, I’ll give you some privacy to put them back on. I need to use the bathroom anyway.”

You’re speeding off before he can get a single word in.

“____,” the sound of your name pulls you out of your thoughts. His hand is warm where it grasps your arm, shaking you gently. He’s doing his head ducking thing again, stooped to your level so his eyes can bore straight into yours. “I crossed a line, didn’t I?”

“No, no.” You shake your head, and you fake a smile as you huff out an exhale. “It was a good joke, Joon.”

“But it made you uncomfortable.” His eyes never leave yours. “I made you uncomfortable.”

You don’t answer. What were you supposed to say?

“I’m really sorry, ____. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s fine, Joon. It’s fine.”

It’s not. It’s really not.

But it has to be. Because you’re over him.

It’d occurred to you once that the fates had a sense of humor, and now you’re quickly realizing that tormenting you is their favorite brand of humor.

It should be great that Namjoon blended into your friend group with little to no problem.

Ever since the first time you invited him over for lunch in the museum’s cafe - something that was meant to be a one-off, a compromise so you wouldn’t have to cancel your lunch appointment with Namjoon while also accommodating the deluge of urgent work that had cropped up without warning - his visits, both to the museum and its cafe, had become much more frequent. When asked about it, he’d explained that the artwork in the galleries became a great source of inspiration for his own work.

But you know the real reason. He’s lonely.

The city may be bustling with people, but it’s still a lonely place. At least with your job, you have regular coworkers you meet every day and have formed friendships with. But for Namjoon, being a novelist may grant him the luxury of flexibility in his work environment, but it also denies him the company of regular coworkers. His ready availability, no matter whether it was for morning coffee runs or lunch appointments or after-work dinner or drinks, made it easy to piece together that his way of life before this was quite a solitary one.

So it should fill you with selfless joy that your close friends have taken to him well.

In reality, a selfish jealousy simmers in the pit of your gut.

Watching as Yeri feeds Namjoon a piece of cupcake, your stomach turns at the blatant attempts at flirting. Unable to stand the sight, your gaze drops swiftly to the cupcake in your own hand. Chomping into it, you grind your teeth with a force that’s entirely unnecessary for such a moist cupcake.

You have no right to be upset with Yeri. Honestly, she’d done her due diligence. You’re the one to blame.

Having recognized Namjoon from the lecture, and noticing the number of times he’d walked you to work after your occasional morning coffee run, it wasn’t long before Yeri marched you to the pantry, arm hooked in yours. She steered you away from prying ears and towards where Soo-eun sat, waiting.

Yeri plucks the coffee cup out of your hand, ignoring your sputtered protests, and places it firmly on the counter with a solid thud, hot liquid sloshing about in the cup and rendering the poor barista’s efforts at latte art a complete waste.

“I’m sick of waiting for you to spill to us about your boyfriend, ____, so I’m taking things into my own hands! It’s been weeks. We need the juicy details!”

Soo-eun, who had been brewing her own cup of tea, nodded as she stuck her tea bag into her mug. “I have to admit, I’ve been waiting too.”

“Guys,” you say, waving your hand in dismissal. “It’s not like that. He’s just a really old friend.”

Well. It’s half true. They don’t need the messy details, you decide, as you recount how you met Namjoon all those years ago. It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re over him.

“Nooo,” Yeri whines, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “I thought something juicy was finally happening in your life, ____.”

Oh, if only she knew.

Jealousy bubbles up like an emotional acid reflux that you desperately try to keep down. With every flirtatious touch, you have to remind yourself that you’d never explicitly communicated that Namjoon was off-limits. Because he’s not.

You can’t lay a claim on him because he’s not yours. Not anymore.

But as you grapple with the jealousy that threatens to boil over, you’re forced to wonder - maybe you’re not that over him.

You put a finger to your lips, shushing your friends, then beckon them forward. Shooting them a thumbs-up, they return ones of their own.

Your knocks rap sharply on the wooden door. Heavy footsteps approach the door and the three of you ready yourselves.

The door cracks open and Namjoon peeks out, messy-haired and shirt all rumpled.

“____, wha-”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!” your trio hollers more than sings.

As the song - if the cacophony can even be called that - carries on without care for neither the time (midnight) nor the neighbors (probably highly annoyed), Yeri shoves the cake into Namjoon’s unsuspecting hands, clearly unaware of his klutzy nature, and the cake very nearly ends up in a heap of strawberries and cream on the ground. But your hand shoots out to catch it, rebalancing the weight of it quickly, well-practiced after the years of growing up around Namjoon. The reflex action doesn’t go unnoticed by him and his lips quirk upwards as Soo-eun snaps a party hat - glittery and obnoxious just like the ones donning each one of your own heads - to Namjoon's head, hiding his bed hair.

"... happy birthday to yoooouuuu," the song drags out into a dissonant finale.

Namjoon's smile has always been captivating, but it's even more so with his features illuminated by the soft orange glow of the candlelight. The tenderness so evident in his eyes pulls you in, irresistible and unrelenting. And though the urge to avert your gaze usually plagues you inanely, it seems to have been entirely overrode by this strange new fixation on the sight of his dewy-eyed expression.

“Thank you so much,” he says, and the sincerity in his words isn’t diminished even with the way he half-whispers it out.

Quiet affection settles like a gentle hum in your heart. Before this, the exhaustion from the day had been eating at you, your eyes strained and dry from the unforgiving glare of your screen at work, your bones heavy with lethargy and craving nothing more than the plush welcoming hug of your mattress. But now, seeing him alight in jubilation, it’s enough that you feel the tiredness recede.

“But please.” He hurriedly jabs a thumb back to his apartment twice. “My neighbors’ hate for me is probably increasing at an exponential rate the longer we stand here.”

“Screw them!” Yeri whispers sharply, the irony of it lost on her. “Blow out your candles first, Joonie.”

Joonie.

Just a single word, but it yanks you right out of the pleasantry you’d been floating along in. Jealousy pulls you under, suddenly irrationally possessive over the simple nickname as you drown in the ebbing waves of the nasty emotion.

Turning back to Namjoon, you plaster on a polite smile. “Yeah, make a wish first.”

Looking between the three of you, it registers that none of you are going to be making any moves to enter his place until he submits to your bidding. Better to just you guys what you want. Relenting, the candles get extinguished in two puffs, and your cheers - hushed this time - fill the hallway.

“Alright!” Yeri claps her hands together, breaking out of a whisper with her exclamation. “Time to check out Namjoon’s abode!”

In typical devil-may-care Yeri fashion, she pushes past Namjoon and walks freely into the place, making herself comfortable. Used to her antics by now, Soo-eun laughs a little, but follows her lead, grabbing the cake from Namjoon on her way in.

“I’ll get this sliced.”

Your eyes trail after Soo-eun as she enters the apartment. When you turn back to Namjoon, you find him looking at you. There it is again, that look. It’s a look that you don’t want - don’t dare - to decipher, but it’s a look that seems to linger whenever he thinks you won’t notice.

You’ve noticed it for weeks now.

In feigned nonchalance, you brush past Namjoon to make a beeline for his couch. After the number of times you’ve hung out at each other’s places, Namjoon’s apartment is like a second home to you now.

“How’d you know I’d be home?” His voice is echoey where it carries over from the doorway as you plop yourself into the leather seat, letting your body get swallowed up in comfort. The front door clicks shut and Namjoon joins you in the living room soon after.

“Face it, Joonie,” Yeri calls from where she’s inspecting his bookshelf. “We’re your only friends in this city.”

“Ouch.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But touche.”

Slices of cake get distributed, courtesy of Soo-eun, and the couch gets crowded as all four of you squeeze onto the tiny thing that was definitely meant to seat two. But there’s no complaints. Not when there’s cake.

Squished between Namjoon and Soo-eun, your bodies pressed up side by side, you’re not sure if you’re imagining it when you feel Namjoon stiffen up momentarily, then hesitantly relax and lean into you. The feel of him is indulgently familiar, and you wonder if it’s the same for him.

The room settles into a contented quiet for a while. Clearly, consuming the dessert takes priority over conversation.

It’s Soo-eun who starts up the conversation again. “Didn’t you go to college here, Namjoon?” she asks. “Did you not keep in contact with anyone?”

You watch carefully as Namjoon fiddles with his fork as he clears his throat. “How do I put this?” he begins, the silver of the fork gleaming distractingly with the way it catches the light under his fidgeting. “I guess, I, um, wasn’t in the best space in college to be making friends.”

“Well,” Yeri interjects before the mood can dampen further, placing a hand on Namjoon’s thigh, “that’s fine, because you have us now!”

Namjoon eyes the hand on his thigh, but says nothing. Jealousy threatens to consume you. Teetering on the brink and frankly unsure which way it would swing, you jump up from the couch.

“I’m kind of thirsty from all the dessert.” It’s a blatant lie. You’ve only had two bites. “I’ll get water for everyone.”

Extricating yourself from the situation, you march into the kitchen. Concentrating on locating the drinking glasses helps to get your mind off of what just happened and the jealousy seeps away.

The drawer where most of Namjoon keeps most of his utensils opens to reveal three glasses. Looking around for a fourth, you finally spy one sitting on a high shelf to the left of the sink.

Rising onto your tiptoes to reach for the glass, you stubbornly maintain that you can reach it if you just stretch that last inch, but a tanned arm grabs it before you can.

The clink of the glass on the counter is barely audible with the way your ears feel like they’re completely stuffed up with cotton. The warmth emanating from the figure behind you causes warmth of your own to rise in your cheeks.

You whirl around.

“I could have gotten that,” you say, trying but failing to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “I didn’t need your help.”

“You seem a little off. Are you okay?” Namjoon asks, his brown eyes scanning you. Testament to the decades of friendship you two shared, of course he would know something was wrong.

“Sorry for being a party-pooper on your birthday, Joon. I’m just tired,” you say with a sigh. “It’s been a long day.”

His hand raises, as if meaning to touch you, but stills for a moment before it drops back to his side.

“I understand. Thank you, ____. You didn’t have to do all this for me, y’know. You should have just gone home to rest.”

“But I wanted to,” the admittance comes slipping out. You frown a little as you look him in the eye. “How did you celebrate your birthday last year, Namjoon?”

His jaw, slacked in surprise, fidgets as he formulates a response. Finally, he huffs out a sad laugh. “I didn’t.”

The hollow loneliness pangs through you and even if it’s only secondhand, it’s still enough that it wraps around and constricts your heart, the emotion welling up tightly in your chest.

Against all better judgment, against the boundary lines you’d carefully drawn up, against the promise of just friends, nothing more, you reach for Namjoon’s hand. As your thumb skims over his knuckles, you marvel at how familiar the sensation of his skin under yours feels, even after all this time.

The way he watches the tender strokes of your thumb - that same lingering look you didn’t want to confront - confirms your earlier thought. The indulgent familiarity of each other’s touch is one that is shared.

“Has it been really lonely?” you ask, compassion leaking through the crack in your voice.

The pause is answer enough. And you expected it. What you didn’t expect, though, was his reply, “I have you now.”

The sheer amount of cherishment in his eyes plunges you into an abyss you can’t fathom ever emerging from.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as you lean in close, catching the way his eyes widen in your peripheral vision.

“Happy birthday, Namjoon,” you whisper into his ear. And, fuck it, you snip the final cord of self-discipline, untethered and free-falling into the dizzying swirl of emotions as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

You’re definitely not over him.

[katsidhe]

15.19 Final Thoughts

I was all set for disappointment after 15.18, but this was… good, actually! Not perfect by any means, but the beats it hit and the points it made were by and large ones I’d been waiting for all season. Where it wasn’t touching (and it was touching!), it was absurd enough for me to enjoy it heartily anyway. I wish that this episode had been split into, like, three, so that it could have spent the time it needed on wallowing.

I love the empty earth. Love it to absolute PIECES. Because it fits so, so well, right? The claustrophobia of the Winchesters’ lives writ grotesquely large. They’re the most important people in the universe, of COURSE they are, because Chuck feels like it, and of course they can’t die, of course they’re doomed to wander eternally—ughh I love it. It’s the natural, absurd, and absurdist conclusion to where this story has always been heading. I am so glad that they went there.

Sam’s heartbreaking guilt—his knowledge that his defiance in 15.17 was what led to this empty universe. Oh, Sam. Again sublimating his loss and his agony into personal responsibility. And the worst part is that he’s right. I love the tragicomedy of Sam and Dean’s offer to play along for Chuck, and that he refuses, preferring to watch them walk the earth alone. Honestly? if it had cut to black right there? I would be mightily pleased.

ok but SAM!!! if there was a winner of 15.19 (and therefore a winner of SPN in general? sure feels that way to me), it’s Sam. Sam defied Death and defied God (and in 15.17 defied Dean). Sam saved Jack, who was the key to everything. Sam got the assist on Lucifer. Sam tricked Michael. Just, GAHH, what a great episode for him.

I about lost my goddamn mind when Lucifer showed up, because I had lost any inkling of hope that he’d turn up again. Kinda figured that plot thread had been irrevocably dropped. I’m sorry for losing my faith, Show! I should have believed that you’d eventually give me a taste of what I wanted!

I predict this opinion is going to be a little unpopular, but I was so happy to see him. I don’t care that he was too quippy, I don’t care that he was gone in like six minutes, I don’t care that his and Michael’s fight was, again, anticlimactic (though at least there weren’t wires, t god). Here’s the thing. I don’t NEED my fictional suffering to be like, artisanal, and thoughtfully designed. I’ll buy that shit at Costco, in ten gallon drums. I’ll chug it straight from the bottle like trauma ketchup. I’ll watch Lucifer resurrected a thousand times, if it means I get to watch Sam’s FACE while they’re in the same room. PRAISE.

The corollary: the ABSOLUTELY AMAZING CONCEPT of the last five people in the entire world being Michael, Lucifer, Sam, Dean, and Jack, all stuck awkwardly in the Bunker. Omfg. This SENT me so hard I had to take a walk, I was laughing too much. What a ripe premise. What an ugly premise. I need fic, immediately, stat, stat means now.

Relatedly, I love the mental image of Sam unobtrusively going offscreen and getting the archangel blade and handing it to Michael and quietly hissing, “uh PLEASE ffs kill your goddamn brother.” Pfffffffffffffffff.

Deeply disappointed that Jack didn’t get a chance to say anything to Lucifer. Yet another thing that needs further treatment.

I’d figured Lucifer was telling the truth when he told them he was joining Team Kill Chuck. However, Lucifer’s willingness to be on board with Chuck’s plan makes, just, a ton of sense. He’s always had less to lose than Michael, when it comes to accepting his father’s olive branch, since he fell so far so long ago, while Michael is still teetering on that precipice. And Chuck’s just extended, basically, a massive apology to him by erasing all the people and places and stories that he favored over his children. Of COURSE Lucifer wants to be alone with his dad, the only chosen one left, in a universe that is finally pristine. Of course he wants to rub his new favor in Michael’s face. I just wish we’d seen and heard more of this. His resurrection wasn’t pointless at all, but it was underdeveloped.

Michael’s inability to separate himself from his father’s will at the bitter end is a tragic and somber end. Jake Abel brought his A-game again. I wish very deeply that we’d been able to see more of him this season: he is one of the few surviving people with genuine investment in Chuck as a person, and he had a deep, deep betrayal to unpack.

Chuck and his enemies: Billie was always too straightforward in her goals and motivations to be truly interesting as an enemy to Chuck; she is less a character, and more an avatar, a force of nature. She opposed him the way a river opposes stone. The Emptity is nearly disinterested in the whole mess—it just wanted to be left alone. The really interesting sources of conflict for Chuck were always going to come from his family: Amara, and the archangels. And I’m glad we got some of that conflict now, even if it was too little too late.

Both of his children were unable to separate themselves from craving his approval. It’s a dire, tragic condemnation of this immortal cosmic family. And it says something about the microcosm of the Winchesters, of them as the model for the stories Chuck enjoys, the stories he inhabits. Supernatural is a story about being trapped. 

Sam somehow tricking both Michael and God? Sam, your BRAIN, it’s simply too big! but real talk how did he manage this? Does he still have the protection from Chuck’s sight via his now-erased God hole? I’m gonna go with yes, and in fact I’m gonna go a step further and pretend he still had that bullet wound this entire season, and that it healed when Jack took Chuck’s power, because now it makes even less sense than ever that the writers chose to erase that tantalizing physical connection. There, in my head, I’ve now fixed it.

Jack. Oh, Jack, what was the show ever going to do with you? The only thing it could, I think. I love that Dean, with absolutely no sense of irony, demanded Jack return with Sam and Dean to where he ~belongs, accusing him tacitly of selfishness, as if not three days ago he’d been egging him on to suicide. For Jack’s own sake, I am glad he is away from the Winchesters, and I hope he spends several decades talking to Amara and like, manifesting as a tree or something, to get some badly needed emotional balance and sense of scale. There is still so much wrong with putting this much power and responsibility in the hands of a browbeaten three-year-old. But, yes, my heart does swell at the thought of Sam’s imperfect love fostering the new God.

The image of Sam and Dean, broken bones, bloodied faces, laughing in the face of God like they’re insane is a pretty damn good one.

Also, Dean denying himself as the “ultimate killer”? Hahahaha so much to unpack there

My least favorite part was, predictably, the saccharine speech about #freewill, complete with the goddamn table carvings. I will certainly cop to really enjoying the montage, tho (but can anyone explain to me why it was like, almost-but-not-quite in chronological order? ).

I’m probably going to have more to say about all of this. Please talk to me about this episode. I’ll forgive 15.18, and hell, I’ll proactively forgive 15.20. Together with 15.17, 15.19 paints a more pleasing, more damning, and more fruitful conclusion for SPN than I ever dreamed I’d get.

[fmdminheearchive]

hello! it’s me, the perpetually absent as of late mun of minhee, eunah, dowoon & seungwoo. to summarize: i’ve been having the worst luck irl for about three months straight. it’s been one thing after another and i no longer am able to tell you what day of the week it is. (like, really.) great, now that that’s over, consider this my plot call for the new quarter. i’ve decided to plot for all my muses through minhee’s account & my d!scord to try and keep everything together as well, so please like/reply to this post for anything under the cut that interests you for any of my kids! i’ve really missed you, famed <3

minhee

of course, all of these schedules, and the other group ones, are open for threads with lipstick members as a given!! the special mv filming, their fan signs, etc!! 

and anyone who wants to do a volunteering thread, yes please! <3 bc muses, minhee is so here to bitch about bc between takes for the documentary... and then she’ll go all i lov my family <3 at the concert like a week later but nvm that.

lipstick are promoting hurt locker from july 15 - august 15, so if that crosses over with any of your muses’ promotional periods, please feel free to hit minhee and me up, because oh god, she is so bored of waiting around backstage at music shows. she’ll happily cause some mischief or assuage any nerves or anything else!

ulsan music festival : for muses in decipher, knight, charm, unity, aria, impulse, fuse, femme fatale or vive! maybe minhee almost makes your muse late for their set, or maybe they have a real heart to heart in the dressing rooms after they catch minhee yelling about her shorts riding up one too many times.

suwon kt wiz supporters festival : for muses in gal.actic or aria! omg hot girl shit here. anyways, minhee hates the outfits lipstick are dressed in here, so she’ll probably be complaining about being a sexy delivery driver. gal.actic muses will have to deal with her asking them to teach her the choreo for fri. sat. sun. because she loves it so much. 

daegu chimaek festival : for muses in bee, gal.actic or silhouette! more hot girl shit! bee and silhouette muses please forgive minhee for being a clingy lover of both groups, even into her hag era. same as above applies for gal.actic muses -- idk, part 2: she gets you to film fri. sat. sun. tiktoks with her.

haeundae hite concert : minhee hates their outfits, part 2. loves bee, part 2.

hallyu dream concert : ok i’m not typing out everyone who’s performing here, but if your muse is!! hit up minhee!! she’s got a flannel shirt around her waist that she will be slipping out of and using as a lasso (no one point out to her that she could just... untie it...)

eunah

same again, everything 7rophy-wise obviously is all open for 7rophy members!! dumdi dumdi prep & promo stuff and all that! 

volunteering stuff with anyone is open!! & the photoshoot with any other dimensions idols is open too!!

has her solo comeback on july 20th!! basically is promoting nonstop all summer and is . suffering a lot, it’s really hard on her.

chinese international students’ festival : for muses in alien, lucid, silhouette or impulse! eunah is ... not gonna be in a good mood, so pretty much, uh, this (and the other festival 7rophy are performing at), would be pretty good opportunities for maybe some old friends to see the return of bitchy/icy eunah, or for her to shock some new friends with her attitude!!

cheonan world dance festival : for muses in lucid, silhouette or fuse! see above, basically. 

dowoon

bc muses come get your x-rays with dowoon!! he’ll hate it!! alternatively, come hang out at the anniversary concert with dowoon!! he’s ok with it!!

someone please come animal shelter volunteering with this boy, he loves animals so so much.

so, charm’s on tour in japan for most of this quarter! charmies ( dowoon says : bleh but you know the way nctzens call dream members the dreamies ... yeah ... ) please hit me up for some dowoon tour bitching. he really hates fallin’ flower. like, more than anything. please indulge his complaints, or totally disagree with him! maybe him and one of the other charmies could have a massive falling out on tour :eyes: drama. he’s just grumpy bc he’s away from wang for so long.

but on the bright side, he loves home;run so much, so on the total flip of the last point, charmies please come have fun with him!! fun, of course, means long hours in the dance studio even after everything is perfect, but like? he’s smiling? so that obviously means it’s fun? even if it isn’t? idk he’s a strange child. or maybe it’s time for fights... again? 

hallyu dream concert : again i am not typing out everyone, but if your muse is performing at this concert, dowoon will probably be in desperate need of a break from charm after the quarter he’s had, so come hang out with him!!

seungwoo

my king. the opposite to dowoon’s gremlin ass self. anyways, yes, hi. mars muses, your leader misses you and wants all the threads for twilight era, even if he doesn’t really care about the song very much. 

seungwoo in general is just the most in need of plots right now, so if anyone wants a messy ex turned good boy bff or a deep seeded hatred thing from years back or anything, uhhh hmu. 

hallyu dream concert : and again!! he’s open for threads here!! let him, idk, extend his leaderly duties to your muse and take care of them if they need something. or maybe there’s a backstage confrontation years in the making?!?!? or, idk, you catch him reading some poems and your muse thinks that’s lame nerd shit. 

[staywritten]

Over&Over│Seo Changbin│III

Over&Over│ Chapter III

Synopsis: Loving Changbin was either than breathing, but why was it so hard to accept that he can love you just as you love him. Why do you always questions your own self worth. What were you supposed to do when he went on an arranged marriage meeting?

Genre: Non idol au, fluff, angst, hurt comfort, smut

Word Count: 1604

Part I PartII 

Masterlist

Jisung groaned as his phone rang, the one night he actually falls asleep early and Changbin decided to call him. “What man? I’m sleeping- wait what?” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes before crawling out of bed. “You did what?”

And that was how Jisung found himself wandering around town looking for you, it was getting pretty late. Changbin was only worried because you blocked his number and had no way of making sure you were ok. Jisung walked inside your job and walked over to Chaeyoung. “Is she here?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she glared at him. 

“Look Chaeyoung, this isn’t my drama. I’m only a bystander, and yet I had to get out of my bed, run halfway across town just to make sure she’s ok so could you like cut me some slack here?”

“It’s fine” you walked out from the back and sighed. 

“Thank God you’re ok” he pulled out his phone to text Changbin. 

“If you text him, I’ll break your arm.” Jisung raised his hands in retreat. “Fine fine, since you two dragged me in the middle of this can someone at least tell me what’s going on.” he opted taking a seat.

You leaned against the bar top. “How about you tell me what Binnie told you?”

“He just told me he fucked up, and he was worried about you.” 

“That’s it? You got out of bed to look for me all because Binnie said he fucked up?” you raised a brow. 

“Yes and no. I mean he’s my best friend, I’ve gotten out of bed for less. And you’re my friend too, and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you either.”

You sighed shrinking into yourself. “I’m sorry for snapping at you… I’m just upset…. Binnie doesn’t usually lie to me… He went to an arranged marriage meeting...and he hid it from me...it doesn’t matter that he rejected her. He shouldn’t have it…” 

“I’m sure he didn’t want you to overreact or be sad overthinking it”

“Imagine how I feel now? I It’s so hard acting like everything is ok… Acting like our very obvious class difference isn’t there…” your eyes began to water. “I’m just a bartender… my family has nothing but debt and a farm…” you wiped away the stray tears that fell. “Everyday I wake up next to Changbin it feels like a dream. He’s so perfect and kind and I know this is temporary… it’s only a matter of time before his family makes him marry someone else...or that he realizes I’m nothing… I have nothing… I can give him nothing… That he’s gonna meet someone pretty, smart, more charming...and he’s gonna get bored of me an leave.” you choked back a sob. “That he claims he didn’t tell me about this meeting for my sake because he doesn’t want me to worry…. But I’m always worried…” you covered your face. “I’m always so scared….”

Jisung’s eyes softened as he gently rubbed your shoulder. He called your name so softly, his own eyes watering at just how broken you looked. “How long have you been feeling like this…? Have you ever told Changbin-Hyung?”

You just shook your head, you couldn’t bare to look at Jisung. You couldn’t bare to see the obvious pity you knew he had for you.”

“How could I tell him…”

“Because it’s not just your burden to carry” a familiar voice echoed from the door way. Changbin stood, heaving heavily covered in sweat. 

Your head shot up looking over at him, you quickly tried to cover the fact that you were crying. Shooting Jisung a glare. “You called him?!” 

He shook his head and raised his hands again. “It wasn’t me! I swear.”

“I called him” Chaeyoung leaned against the backroom. “You two have a lot to talk about...And running away isn’t going to help. Rather you fix this, or break up...you need to talk.” she sighed “Jisung, c’mon let’s give them some space for a bit”

“You don’t gotta tell me twice” Jisung hopped up following Chaeyoung out.

“Please don’t run away again…” He took a step closer to you, hesitant and slowly. Almost like he was approaching a wounded animal. His eyes were soft, brows furrowed. “Baby...please…” He took a seat at you across the bar. 

Your eyes were wide, pupils darting to look at everything. You were scared, your anxiety getting the best of you. It didn’t happen often but when it did he was usually the only one who could calm you. “Breathe Baby… deep breath…” he held your hand lacing his fingers with yours. “It’s ok… It’s ok…” he cooed. “You don’t have to put up a strong front for me…” he tried to cover it, but the hurt was so evident in his eyes. His heart broke that you were so easily able to share all your concerns with Jisung. “Do you want me to go first...or should you…?”

“You…” you mumbled, your gaze never leaving his; hands laced between your fingers. 

He took a deep breath. “I love you… more than anything or one in my life… I would do anything to make you happy.” He rubbed your hand with his thumb. “I made a mistake… My sister arranged the meeting because it was more so a business deal than anything else… I knew from the beginning that I would say no, and I fought to not go but...I could have fought harder…” his shoulders slumped. “It’s not Noona’s fault either… She wanted me to tell you… And I was going to but… I just didn’t want to worry you…” he sighed. “I’m so sorry…” 

Your eyes watered as you shook your head. “I’m just… so scared…”

“Don’t be scared… I love you and I’m never going to do anything to make you doubt that.” he tilted your chin to look at him with his free hand. “Baby… I’m going to meet a lot of people in my life… a lot of women. And no one will ever be better than you… I will pick you over and over and over again… Because that what it means to be in a relationship… It’s picking the same person every day of my life.” he smiled softy. “And for as long as you let me, I’ll continue to pick you…” he cupped your cheeks gently, gazing into your eyes with that warmness that always made you feel safe. “Can you forgive me?”

You nodded attempting to choke back your tears. Despite all your insecurities, despite your anxiety he really was your home. “C’mere…” you moved out of his hold to move around the bar, and run into his arms. He pulled you into his chest, bundling you as close as possible. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s ok…” you gripped the front of his t-shirt, your fingers still shaking. Looking up at him he pulled you into a kiss. His lips moving gently against yours as he deepened the kiss. The bitterness of liquor on your lips, and desperation on his tongue. 

You weren’t even sure of how you made it back home. You refused to leave his arms, refused to break the kiss. You needed him.

Stumbling into your apartment, your back hit the mattress as he pinned you under him. His mouth leaving sweet kisses on your skin. His hoarse voice groaning your name over and over like a prayer. 

His whole life he’s never had to want for anything, and he recognized that he’s never had to work too hard for much. But you were the single most priceless thing in his life, and he’d never stop working to prove to you how much you deserved to be happy. 

You gripped his back, nails raking along his skin as he pumped into you. Your legs hooking around his hips, holding him closer to you as you moaned. “B-Binnie please…” your eyes clenched in pleasure. 

He pulled back just slightly to get a good look at you. Your body convulsing from pleasure, lips parted as you begged, body flushed and warm all from him. He brushed your hair out of you face, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “I love you so much…” he whispered. 

You looked up at him, biting down on your lip as you tried to calm your racing heart. “You’re my whole world…” you threaded your fingers through his hair, brushing them against his scalp. 

He gave you that lazy smirk of his before grabbing something from the side table. He’d been trying to figure out the perfect moment to propose. Big dinners, events, huge moments with your families. It all felt off and he always lost his nerves. But in this moment here. Just the two of you lost in one another. This was the moment he was looking for. He grabbed the ring from the side table. “There’s still so many ways I want to love you… so many things I want to learn about you...And if you’ll have me… I want to spend our whole lives doing it…”

Your eyes widened as you looked at the beautiful diamond ring, words escaped you. Your eyes watered before you nodded pulling him into a kiss. He chuckled kissing you back, showering you with tiny pecks as he pulled away to slip on the ring.  

There wasn’t much that could be done about your anxiety or insecurities. A life time of trauma wasn’t going to be resolved in a single conversation. But he sure as hell was going to work hard to at least reassure you everyday that he loved you.

End.

Mini series complete. I hope you guys enjoyed that and special thanks to @soobinsmile ❤️❤️❤️

∘Tags List:

@sassystay-bunny​ @skzsprinkles @tophuphu @hugs4chan @channieboyo @tonfilm @soobinssmile

[thefanficmonster]

Forever With You

Sam Giddings (Until Dawn) x Emo!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Death, Mourning, Swearing, Slight Gore

Genre: Angst

Summary: Living with knowing that your life was basically given back to you from near-death thanks to the demise of a loved one is the closest feeling to death with your heart still beating. Sam now knows that. The whole group knows that. Good thing friends stick together even after death. 

Requested by my lovely Until Dawn Anon. Hi babyy! I hope you enjoy the read and I sure as hell hope this isn’t the last request of yours I’ll be writing. We’re business partners at this point LOL. Love you ❤❤❤

QUICK NOTE - Some elements of this fic, by request of Until Dawn Anon, have been inspired by a certain drama series. I’m not gonna name it to avoid spoilers for both the show and this fic, but whoever’s watched the show will recognize which show is being referenced.

Sam’s POV

“You’d make a mean hunter!“ Chris comments as Y/N lowers the shotgun after shooting her mark for the fifth time. 

“Nah, I’d never hurt animals.“ She gives him a sincere smile, “But I appreciate you thinking I have the proper skillset.“

We’re waiting for the world’s slowest cable car to make its way to our station, aka the lower station so we can meet up with the rest of our group, assuming that any of them are already there. 

When I arrived at the station Chris, Ashley and Y/N were already there. They were sitting on the benches outside the station, waiting for me. I was actually supposed to take the same bus as them but something came up right as I was about to head to the bus station, forcing me to take the bus an hour after theirs.

“Sam, I will never forgive you for this, I swear!“ Y/N says, standing up from the bench and heading in my direction, “You let me thirdwheel alone! I mean, I could only survive watching these two beat around the bush for so long!“ She lowered her voice when she said that, giving the couple us two and Josh call Chrashley a quick glance over the shoulder.

I took her hands in mine almost instinctively, “Aw, I’m sorry. But look on the bright side: the love radiating off them is so strong it kept you warm as well!” It was true, her usually freezing hands were not so frozen. Still colder than a person’s should be, but not yet to the point of provoking concern.

She smirked, rolling her eyes, “You know I’d rather freeze to death than have love keep me warm.” She spat the word ‘love’ as though it was poisonously bitter in her mouth. Luckily, before I could say anything more, Chris dragged us to the makeshift shooting range he had found at the side of the snow covered clearing.

It didn’t take long for him and Y/N to start getting competitive with one another, like the not-blood-related siblings they are, so now Ash and I are observing their little competition of who can hit the most marks with the smallest amount of prep time. It’s obvious Y/N the one winning, but Chris isn’t the quitter type so while she is shooting even the smallest of pebbles in the snow we point out to her, he’s still aiming for the hanging sacks of sand and the glass bottles.

With the two of them being so immersed in their ‘competition’, Ashley and I are chatting while remaining a safe distance away from the shooting pair - Chris especially. Y/N has at least slight experience in the field. Being at the distance that we are, we are also out of earshot for them. So, both Ash and I bring up the obvious topic that never remains unspoken - RELATIONSHIPS.

“You and Y/N have been really close as of late. Finally making things official?“ Ash nudges the conversation first as she adjusts the beanie she’s wearing.

I sigh, a white cloud created from that breath of something between disappointment and dread, “We’re not even unofficial. We’re just friends.“ I take the opportunity to take a teasing stab at her, “I’m not luck enough to have my...“ I make quotation marks with my fingers, “’crush’ feel the same way about me. Unlike you.“ I smirk at her, noticing the color of red appearing on her cheeks despite the cold breeze that’s caressing every inch of exposed skin, making it worryingly pale.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Sam. For both of those statements.“ She says diplomatically, scanning the shooting duo with a quick once-over. “She isn’t as reserved when she’s with you. I know you don’t notice, but everyone else does. She’s different, warmer even, with you.“ I expect her to go on, explaining her situation with Chris, but she doesn’t.

As much as I’d like to get her to go on and spill a little of what she feels about Chris, even though everyone and their grandmothers already know, I can’t help but let my mind go down the rabbit hole of ‘what if’s. I’m not oblivious nor blind, I can see the way her demeanor changes around me in comparison to, let’s say, when she’s around Mike. However, she’s ‘warmer’ with Josh, Chris, Matt and Ash as well. It’s called friendliness. It’s no secret that she’s never been too fond of Emily or Jess or Mike. The friendliness of a person can so easily be taken out of context when someone’s crushing on them.

And Y/N’s friendliness especially. This girl hates romance. Absolutely hates it. The word ‘love’ itself gets her annoyed and bothered to the point of discomfort sometimes. I have never tried to probe and try to figure out why. I say I haven’t cause I respect her privacy, but truth be told I am scared. I want to believe there is a small part of her that still wants to experience a romantic relationship, a love connection, and I’m afraid that prodding the subject would shatter all the hopes I have.

How did I end up falling for this dark, broody, Catwoman like emo girl? - I have no idea. It was only natural if you ask me. I think I’m not the only one who’s so whipped by her, but I could never be sure. I mean, how could someone NOT fall for this raven badass: black hair, eyes just a shade lighter than black, tattoos - perfect combination of beauty and brains. And balls, she’s probably the boldest person I’ve ever known or will ever meet. What really caught my attention when I first laid eyes on her was the way she shined. Literally. I don’t mean that as a cheesy metaphor - the girl is always covered in jewelry that reflects the sunlight perfectly. She mesmerized me from day one. She made me a big hypocrite - I was always the one to tell Chris and Ash to make a move, to confess their feelings, and now here I am, in their shoes as though they have cursed me.

“Hey, eagle eyes! Our ride’s here.“ Ash announces, handing Chris his backpack as they fall in step, walking side by side around the station.

Y/N falls in step with me, elbowing my ribs gently, “Slow down, let’s give them some privacy.” She slows her pace to a frustratingly slow walk and I oblige, “I don’t usually say things like this, but they are really cute.”

We’d be really cute

Wait, where did that thought come from?!

“Yeah, I know.“ I say through the fog of confusion that has taken over my brain. “They sure are.“ I clear my throat, trying to hide the fact that my own mind just shocked me. Damn, what is happening to me? What is this crush doing to me? It’s exhausting and terrifying but....I don’t want it to stop.

                                                              *  *  *

“It’s ok, baby. You’re ok.“ Y/N’s voice echoes in the eeriness of the mines.

How did this night make a swerve for the worst so suddenly. All of it, all the horrors just piled up so suddenly. We’re fearful of our own shadows at this point. We are terrified of each other as well. We’re all in a fragile and vulnerable state, with out sanity hanging by a thread. We are all slowly losing ourselves more and more, the events of the past few hours and the hours to come dragging us in the depth of this seemingly endless void of terror.

And then there’s Y/N. Mike, her and I have just found Josh who was having some sort of hallucination-riddled breakdown in the mines. While Mike and I stood aside, contemplating our next move, Y/N didn’t waste any time hesitating. She ran right to his aid and literally pulled him out of his horrific delusions, wrapping her arms around him tightly, murmuring words of comfort as he cried on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry. For everything. I should’ve done something...I should’ve saved them.. I shouldn’t have done this to you guys.“ Josh’s sobs tear my heart to pieces. Seeing him like this is like watching a disaster happen right in front of me, but I’m incapable of doing anything to prevent it or aid help the people affected by it. I’m helpless, I can just stand aside and watch. Watch as he falls apart and Y/N desperately trying to keep him together as if she’s strong enough to carry such duty on her shoulders.

“It’ll all be over soon, it’ll all be ok. Hannah and Beth know it wasn’t your fault, Josh. We forgive you too. Please, don’t do this, at least not now.“ Just as she says those word, an inhuman screech comes from somewhere in the distance behind us, accompanied by another shortly after which came from right up-front. 

Good thing we don’t have to head in either of those directions, not that we’re safe no matter which path we take. We’re walking through thigh deep water which could be hiding anything below the surface yet we wouldn’t know because it looks more like ink than water. We’re not the most discreet nor quiet as we move forward, taken that we are doing our best to push through with letting out as little curse words and sneers due to the inability to feel our lower body.

My foot hits something solid and rather sharp, most likely a large stone, causing me to let out a loud hiss before I could stop it. I freeze, listening on the noises surrounding us, expecting those screeches to emerge from behind the nearest wall and put an end to this torture we’re enduring. 

I nearly jump out of my skin when a hand wraps around my wrist gently. My first instinct is to pull away, all my muscles tensing as I try to take a step back. 

“Hey, hey relax. It’s ok.“ Y/N’s voice is unusually soft and sweet, just like when she was comforting Josh. It’s the voice she uses when aiding a hurt animal, or calming a weeping baby. “You’re ok, nothing bad will happen to us, ok Sam? We’re making it out of here.“ She’s carrying the mom role, the older sister role, the nurse role and the pillar we’re all leaning on for support. She’s keeping it together so we can too.

Her hand moves down to mine, unfolding my fingers that I’ve curled into a tight fist due to the uncomfortable sensation of being half frozen and half numb. He holds my hand open while quickly slipping off a ring from her pointer finger and putting it on mine. It has a small brightly blue rock on it. I recognize it right away - it’s the only ring she wears permanently. She changes all her other accessories, but never this ring. I can swear I’ve heard her joke that she’d like to be buried with it when the time comes.

“The lady that gave me this ring said it symbolizes the courage to carry on while carrying the world on your shoulders, and that really stuck with me.“ Her tone takes me to a different place, somewhere nice, safe and warm. Her words wrap around me like a safety blanket, for a moment letting me forget everything: the past few hours, the present and the yet to be determined future. “I have a feeling you need that courage more than I do.“

I nod but I’m physically unable to look up and meet her eyes. My gaze is fixated on her hands, which I’ve never felt so warm, holding mine as though it’s made of porcelain.

“If you keep going at this rate, all your jewelry will end up on me.“ I fish the necklace from underneath my hoodie, holding the charm so she can see it.

It’s a necklace she gave me right before she went on her first forest ranger training program. We weren’t sure if we’d see her again when we were at the train station saying goodbye. She said there was a chance of her staying at the camp to fully devote herself to what she wanted for her future. Thankfully though, she returned about four months later. I remember how hard I had to fight my tears that day. I should’ve know it would be useless - Y/N notices everything. That necklace, a beautiful blood red circular pendant hanging on a silver chain, was her saying ‘see you soon, hopefully’. I haven’t taken it off me since.

“I’ve already written it all to you in my will.“ She gives my hand a squeeze before letting go and continuing forward. After a brief return to the present reality I follow, making sure to always be an arm reach away at most from Y/N. Being within close proximity to her makes me feel like it will be alright. I mean, she said it would be, and she’s never wrong.

We enter an area where the water isn’t as still anymore. It rushes towards this small cliff where it creates a waterfall, pooling in the lower level in the form of a deep lake. The water is way higher there and the ground at the bottom is not reachable.

“Let’s try not to get pulled.“ Mike declares, his walk now more of a struggle just like everyone else’s “If we can reach that wall without dying we should be ok.“

We all nod, more as a way of reassuring ourselves than a response to his statement. We are less than fifteen feet away, I have a strong belief we can make it.

Ten feet away. We’re almost there.

And then we hear it - a deafening screech. It’s right next to me.

We turn to see that monster grab Y/N by her throat, throwing her into the water. Before we even have time to react, it’s too late. The thing has once again picked her up, holding her high above the surface of the water. She looks at me, her eyes screaming the way her vocal chords can’t. The fear has silenced her.

The wendigo’s other hand pierces through her chest, pulling her heart out. 

She’s gone. She’s gone. She can’t be gone! WHY HER?! Why couldn’t it be me?! Why am I still drawing breath when she just let out her last one?! WHY DID IT GO FOR HER?! Is it because it knew that’s the quickest way to kill me?! TO KILL ALL OF US?!

The wendigo throws Y/N’s body over the cliff and into the deep lake below right before it climbs one of the stone walls and leaves our sight. It didn’t see any of us. We were too frozen to move even if we tried, of course it didn’t see us. 

“We..- we gotta keep moving. Sam, come on. It’s over. She’s gone. We can’t help her.“ Each word shakier than the last, but still like sharp stabs right through my chest. Mike has taken hold of my arm and is leading me towards the wall we are supposed to climb to get out of here and back to the lodge.

                                                            *  *  *

I don’t remember climbing the damn thing. I don’t remember the way back to the lodge. I can faintly recall the pained cries of everyone in the basement when Mike told them what happened. All that time I couldn’t utter a single word. I couldn’t comprehend what had happened. It all happened so out of the blue and it was over so quickly, like it wasn’t the end of a human life. Like it didn’t matter and it wouldn’t have any lasting effects on anything that followed. As though her death wasn’t worth to be remembered.

It all sunk in only after I was out of that hell-hole lodge, the flames dancing in front of my eyes, surrounding the structure that within its walls held several of those monsters, one of which was the one that killed Y/N.

Y/N

Thinking of her got me to look down at the pendant of the necklace around my neck, the fire being reflected off its smooth red surface. Like a pool of blood in the middle of a forest caught by a wildfire.

See you soon, hopefully

I take one look at those woods, my heart sinking at the thought that behind those trees there’s an entrance to the mines. The mines that are now the resting place of the girl I loved. The girl that deserved better.

“Sam, they’re here. We’re safe. They’re saving us. It’s finally over.“ Mike’s words are nothing but a faint echo at the back of my conscience.

What’s on the front lines of my mind is that phrase - See you soon, hopefully. I’ll be seeing her soon. But not through death, she would never wish that upon me or anyone.

She’ll come back. She won’t let this be the end. She’s too stubborn.

“SAM!“ The screams fail to reach me completely as I run as though my life depends on it. My feet barely touch the ground, my instinct leading me to the nightmarish depths of this mountain. 

I will not allow it to be your resting place, Y/N!

I jump from the top of the wall into the shallow water, letting the water drag my shaky form towards the cliff. With zero hesitation or doubt, no regard for the filthiness of the water or the horrors that may await me below its surface.

It’s pitch black. I can’t see or feel a thing. My body feels like it’s being stabbed by thousands of needles, causing it to go numb. I push my lungs to their limits, testing every cell of my body, begging them to not fail me.

The discourage starts settling in, accompanied by the pain that’s spreading throughout my chest due to the lack of oxygen. I’m just about to swim to the surface to breathe when I see it.

A glow. More of a reflection, actually. The reflection I was talking about earlier. The minimal light that’s pushing its way into the mines has made it to this depth and is being reflected by a metal ring connected to a pale hand.

Dizziness and pain all but forgotten, I push myself to swim lower, grasping the hand and giving it my all to pull it up. I only realize I’m above water when air enters my lungs in large gulps. It takes me a second to take in the fact that I’m holding the bloody, pale, unmoving body of Y/N with a hole through her chest.

“Please...“ I beg through gasps for breath, “Please open your eyes, live. Oh God, a wendigo or not just...just please come back to me, Y/N! Come back to take me with you!“

Despite my words of desperation, my screams of agony, I know they are in vain. I know she wouldn’t come back even if she could. She would rather stay dead than return as a threat to her friends with the risk of actually hurting them. She would never bring harm to her loved ones.

Images flash before my eyes: The hurt in her eyes when Josh’s scheme was revealed; Her comforting Ashley while Chris was out with the Flamethrower Guy; Talking Mike into putting the gun away and not shooting Em; Her standing up to Emily, grabbing her arm before she could hit Ash; Her comforting the disoriented and scared Josh we found in the mines; Her looking at me a second before her death.

There are two scenes that have been permanently engraved in my memory: Seeing her shining form for the first time and seeing her ink-like eyes, filled with terror for the last time.  

                                                            *  *  *

We’re sitting in a room with bright neon lights and security cameras in each corner. I don’t remember how I got here. I don’t even remember leaving the mines. We were all given a change of clothes and a blanket. They offered us food and something to drink to refuel our bodies but after those horrors we saw, non of us are able to hold anything down. Josh was taken to a separate room the moment the helicopter landed and we haven’t seen him since.

I’m sitting on a bench next to Chris and Ashley, opposite Mike, Jess and Emily. Poor Jess has had it the roughest out of all of us. She has been drained of all emotion, her face isn’t even pale - more see-through. Mike’s arm is protectively wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her close. Matt and Emily are holding hands, unable to say anything to each other. Chris has Ashley tightly wrapped in his arms as though he’s prepared to protect her from anything. 

And I’m alone. 

I saw a black body bag being unloaded from the helicopter. I knew whose body it contained. No one dared say a word about it. We had run out of tears and words at that point.

I keep my head hanging low, my eyes fixated on the white tiled floor beneath my feet. The lights are too bright compared to my pitch black world. It’s all just empty and meaningless now. Looking back, I should’ve taken my own advice and spoken up about how I felt. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed much, maybe everything would’ve been different. And that’s the real torment - I will never know.

I straighten up, squinting at the artificial blinding lights, resting my back against the wall behind me. As I’m doing so, I catch a glimpse of something shiny in front of me. 

My heart leaps. 

It’s such an irrational reaction to something so simple. So ordinary to anyone else.

The shine is coming from the light reflecting off the chain Mike’s wearing around his neck. A familiar chain I’ve seen on someone else.

“That’s Y/N’s.“ I bark at him angrily, gaining his attention, “Why do you have it?!“

“Sam...“ Chris’ hand rests on my arm, “We all have something hers. She was sentimental, remember?“

‘Was‘. That change from ‘is‘ to ‘was‘ is killing me. And the ease with which everyone has accepted that Y/N is now a thing of the past.

“She gave me a bracelet.“ Ashley shows me her wrist

“She gave me this cool watch...“ Chris rolls up his sleeve, “I’m glad it survived all the crap it was put through with me. Not a scratch.“

“She’d haunt you if you scratched it.“ Matt smiles but his eyes are dull with sadness

“She’ll haunt us regardless.“ Emily says, “I hope she does.“

The rest of the crew shows the pieces Y/N left them of herself and it’s the most heartwarming while also heartbreaking feeling. The room has a different atmosphere all of a sudden. We are seven people, each with a soul of our own and a piece of Y/N’s. 

As long as all the pieces are near each other, she’ll be alive and present. She’ll live on to watch over us and guide us. She’s probably looking down at us right now, relieved that we made it out. Overjoyed that Chris and Ashely are finally where they’re supposed to be - in each other’s arms. Glad Matt and Emily have found a stable middle ground. Proud of Jess for what she survived back there and happy she has found safety in Mike’s embrace. And what does she feel about me? As I said, I’ll never know, I can only hope she heard what I said to her back in the mines.

Assumptions aside, her message is crystal clear and leaves no room for speculations:

As long as we’re together, she’ll be with us. Forever.

[meowdymista]

Van der Driscoll Pt 2

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

You guys asked for more. Again, it is not perfect, BUT I accidentally wrote so much with so many perfect cut off points... Instead of smashing it in one post, I’m going to hit you up with Part 3 Saturday 9am GMT just coz

Word count: 1540

Warnings: Violence, abuse

Part One & Masterlist

Part Three

He stiffens at that, his eyes darkening introspectively. "Heidi?"

Hysteria bubbles in your chest. "You don't know her name? You don’t even-!” A laugh erupts from your throat. “How do you act so high and mighty when you don’t even know her name?"

"Y/N-"

"She wouldn’t have been there if it weren't for me! And then I went ahead and slept with her killer!"

"I weren't on that ferry-"

"But you stayed knowing what he had done!" You choke as the sobs finally overcome you. "You stayed with him and I stayed with Colm and… I thought you made it better, but this is so so much worse."

Arthur swears, reaching for you before retracting his hand hesitantly. "I'm sorry- if I'd have known…"

"You'd what? Leave them?" You try to scoff but the corners of your mouth are dragging too far towards your chin. “You have that luxury?”

He sighs, defeated. “You ain’t been in the game as long as I have. Sometimes things get messy.”

“Messy is a pile of lawmen. Messy is a couple of horses being lost.”

“I wasn’t there - things go wrong-”

“A job gone wrong is loss without a payday - it was a fucking massacre, Arthur! It was indiscriminate slaughter!”

“I’m sorry, ok? We’re all sorry about what happened!” He flicks the reins as if determined to leave the gang behind. “Nobody knows why, but everything blew up and bodies started hitting the deck. You ain’t the only one that lost family on that damn ferry - we lost more people than we have done in years. We tried to tell him it didn’t feel right- but no one ever imagined that...”

He trails off, his chin low, eyes only seeing the road ahead.  You shake your head, wanting nothing more than to curl up and cry, but the bonds are unforgiving so you stay as you are, looking anywhere but at the driver besides you.

Hours pass in silence. You catch him worrying in your peripherals occasionally, but it does nothing to help the ache in your chest nor the overwhelming exhaustion that has burrowed its way into your bone marrow.

Balancing a cigarette between his lips, he strikes a match on the bottom of his boot. When it’s lit, he offers it to you but you turn your head further away. 

“I’ve been smoking a lot lately,” he mutters, smoke curling from his lips. “I’m starting to doubt whether I’m breathing you in or smoking you out.” He throws you another glance, his eyes sad under the rim of his hat as he takes another deep drag. You close your eyes, trying to ignore the pain that ripples in his words.

“Didn’t expect to see you out here!”

Your stomach flutters as the familiar face grunts its way into view. He stretches his legs out, leaning back on his arms that have crossed over your own. Officially seated, he gives you a dazzling smile that makes you melt.

“Can a lady not enjoy some peace and quiet in this town?”

He chuckles, setting the worn gambler’s hat aside as he lights a smoke. “Surprised you’d want to.”

You nudge him playfully, accepting the proffered tobacco with fixed eye contact. You inhale the same air he’s blowing into the misty morning, trying not to let the blush creep up your neck. “What brings you back to Valentine? Outta supplies already?”

He rolls his eyes. “I wish.” You cock a flirtatious eyebrow, but he shakes his head, suddenly serious. “Where were you last week? I made the trip especially.”

“I was… visiting friends,” you lie.

“D’your friends know about me?”

“Do yours?”

His fingers caress your hand as he takes back the cigarette. “Touché.”

“What would you have done if it had been the other way round?” he asks eventually. “If you and Colm’s boys came into our camp… What would you have done?”

“I kill men - not women.” You open your eyes to meet his brooding gaze. “I… can’t imagine I’d have done well when I learned about the boy neither.”

“If they weren’t there?”

You swallow the lump in your throat as he looks away. “I wouldn’t have had a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” he says lowly. “Is that what you tell yourself?” Your laugh is damp.

“This life…”

“Is shit.” You scoff as his lips thin. “We don’t go into it because we want to. The only reason we stick with it is because we’ve made too many enemies to go clean.”

“C’mon, it ain’t all bad-”

“Everything about us is fucked because we got caught in the crosshairs.” His mouth twists, your own disappointment reflected in his slouched shoulders. “You made me feel like… like all this mess was happening for a reason, but now…” Your voice breaks. “Even if I got away from Colm, you won’t leave Dutch. You wouldn’t have taken me back there if you could’ve. Everything is just… fucked.”

"How's your side?” he enquires gently.

"Least of my worries,” you mutter. You haven’t been able to sleep properly for weeks now, and when you do, your dreams are borderline hallucinogenic. The exhaustion has long since soaked into your bones, and now with your limbs bound for yet another unending hour, it wasn’t like the wound (or your broken tooth) were worthy of your concern.

Your giggles peeter out as you realise what he’s seeing. His eyes are soft and sad as his fingertips drink in the irregularities of your skin as gently as they can.

“Every one of them is a story,” you murmur, pulling his chin up and away from your body. “A story for another time.”

The corner of his lips tucks into his cheek. “Well, if we ain’t sharing secrets-” He leans back and pulls his shirt over his head in one swift tug. Your hands are small, pale and delicate against the muscles of his stomach. You comb them through the golden hair, trying not to linger on the silver scars that litter his body.

You wrap a hand around the back of his neck and pull him in, wordlessly thanking him. He responds firmly, his tongue tracing your lips as your bodies mould to one another. Despite your efforts, you realise with a sinking stomach that you have gone and fallen in love with him.

Graceful in defeat, you gorge yourself in this new emotion, allowing yourself to bask in the temporary bliss that is his company.

Dirt builds up behind your nails as you hiss back into the present moment.

“Done,” breathes Arthur, his fingers grazing the soft flesh of your hip as he cuts the thread. “I guess I should have guessed where all your stories came from. I didn’t mean to become one of them.”

You try to inspect the stitches yourself but they’re just out of your line of sight. Pulling down your shirt, you look around for the bedroll. Every string of every muscle is screaming for rest, no matter how temporary. As though reading your mind, Arthur tuts.

“You need to eat somethin’.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You should be. When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care either."

He lights another cigarette as you crawl across the grass of your small camp and collapse just inside the tent. You barely close your eyes before the smell of tobacco wakes you again.

“Eat.”

You groan loudly. “What about you?”

“Forget about me.” A cigarette is pinched between his incisors as he begins to pack away the camp. “If you don’t start eatin’, I’m gonna have to do something we’ll both regret.”

The weight of your arms with the small spoon of soup is laughable. You force your mouth to meet it, your entire focus taken up by the menial task. You manage half a bowl before surrendering. Arthur is watching you over the back of his horse, the lines between his brows digging six feet into his head. He looks away quickly, his mouth still a thin line despite his efforts.

“We got another while to go yet.”

“Where are we going?” You watch him unpin the tent and fold it up.

“East.”

“East?” you repeat, laughing at how your ears have warped the sound. Your stomach sinks as you watch him purposely avoid you. “You handing me over?”

“What? No! O’course not, Y/N, I ain’t stupid.”

“Then… why east?” You watch him closely and notice his knee jittering despite his weight. “Where are you taking me?”

“You can’t stay here.”

“And you can’t let me go. If Colm catches me-”

“I won’t let him.”

“Then… what?” You swallow the lump in your throat. “I know you ain’t going to let me stay with you after what I said about Dutch.” Your weak laugh comes out breathless. “Arthur?”

“I’ll make sure you get out of here alright. I owe you that at least.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” you state as calmly as you can. “I’ll be fine.”

The shadows under his eyes are darker today. You can’t help but wonder how much longer he stayed awake after you passed out. “I won’t be able to forgive myself if something happens to you, Y/N. Let me have this.”

[if-the-crown-fits-translate-it]

Duchy Conversation 4

[27/03, 4:29 AM GMT - 27/03, 6:13 AM GMT]

[The following transcript details the conversation is between one of the Crown ARG Discord members and Duke on Twitter]

Donti: “Hi! How was your day?

Its me again :)c

((If its late or youre sleeping dw about responding :p))”

Duke: “Forgive my tardiness, my embroidery was enchanting me so that my ears laid unaware!

How do you do, Donti? It is the Duke speaking. I must say, my sister has quite the opinion of you!”

Donti: “Oh its great to talk to you again Duke :D I hope I left a good impression! Is your embroidery going well?”

Duke: “It is going quite splendid! The Crown truly does spoil us, giving my sister and I such rich-coloured thread. Truly we are fortunate for his generosity and love.”

Donti: “Ohh! Good colors always make embroidery fun! What are you making?”

Duke: “I must ask though - as a sheep yourself why must you graze on such nimble hearts? Wolves are not supposed to concern themselves with the opinions and thoughts of prey such as yourselves but Prince is but a pup, why must you all be so cruel? I am quite interested in the answer, you see, because it is I who saw the tear tracks down faers face and I who heard the drums of despair in this household.”

Donti: “Oh..

Are you talking about blunt anon?

All of us are very angry at them, whoever they are.

I promise they do not reflect us as a whole.”

Duke: “To answer your previous question however, I am making a rose for Baroness. I do feel horribly for how I was unable to aid her with her spoiled dress so I do hope this gift soothes her and shows that there is no ill will from I to her.”

Donti: “Thats nice! Baroness loves flowers and nature! Thats super thoughtful of you. Im sure she'll love it :D

But back to Prince... Are fae ok? we're worried about faem.”

Duke: “"Blunt anon" is quite a peculiar name I must say. Indeed that is the scoundrel I speak of. It is wonderful to hear that you all are not that way - frankly, if I suspected you were the one to make Prince cry I would have simply neglected to respond, as is customary when one deals with enemies of one's family. Prince is currently recuperating, poor thing. A bleeding heart only leads to death and yet fae still has not learned that yet. I do wish you to send out a warning if you would be so kind - do let anyone know that if they ever treat Duchess in such a matter they will swiftly come to regret it. A gentleman does not revel in violence but she is my most dearest sister.

I thank you for your kind words however, I do indeed hope she enjoys my gift so - do not tell the others but she may be the only one in this family I can truly connect to on an intellectual setting, besides my sister of course.”

Donti: “Ill tell people not to be rude to Duchess. Not that they would.. Im pretty sure they like her :D”

Donti: “"Blunt anon" came when people would send... Rude asks to people. It was originally just blunt questions. But it escalated to... What happened to Prince :( We're trying to find them, but theres only so much we can do

Oh wait! have other people reached out to you all yet?”

Donti: “I know some of my good friends have talked to duchess.. But not to you yet!”

Duke: “Ah, indeed people have reached out and only Duchess was there to greet them. It pains me of course but I found myself with activities to do throughout the day. Schooling is still important to Duchess and I so that took up quite a bit of time - do not tell Crown but I was indeed spending time taking in the beauty of ballet instead of working purely on my Latin. Tea time too is an important affair, especially for I, and then it is always important to spend time with ones sister! So alas, you have been the only one I have graced with my thoughts and feelings out of your crowd of sheep.”

Donti: “Hm. I like the name sheep... Its a little kinder than "plebs"

You seems to like a lot of.. Elegant things! (I hope thats the right word) like embroidery and ballet! Where did you learn such refined taste :oc”

Duke: “Where did I learn such refined tastes? They have always been apart of me, you must understand. The Crown helped unlock those parts that I kept buried deep away and help nurture them. Oh such a brute I used to be! No care for the finer things in life, only one-upping my beloved sister. To think I used to slide in the dirt just for a measly point - bah! Truly I am in much debt to the Crown, for without him I still may have been a unruly fool.”

Donti: “... You played sports before you met Crown?”

Duke: “My sister and I both did, yes. It does not do well to dwell on such miserable times, Donti. This is why little one you are still a lamb.”

Donti: “Oh! If you don't want to talk about it, you dont have to! ^u^ Friends dont force their friends to talk about uncomfortable things!

Hm... But if the plebs are sheep... And I am a lamb... Who is the shepard...?”

Duke: “How sweet! Tell me, little lamb, who do you think the shepherd is? Or if there is one at all?

If you are a little lamb then I must ask, is there a Mary to be found alongside you as well?”

Donti: “Hm.... I think from our perspective the shepherd, (or shepherds in this case) would be our lovely mods :D

But from your point of view? Its most definitely Crown!

Andd.. Im assuming a Mary is a leader... Little lambs follow Mary after all... Hm. A lot of us have shown leadership at some point in time or another! It really depends on the scenario!”

Duke: “Intriguing.

It depends on the scenario you say?”

Donti: “Yep! People take charge depending on whats happening, and sometimes theres no leadership, just us discussing and working through it!

Why do you ask?”

Duke: “When the flocks have gone and left and all there is is the gentle bobbing of the water, who do you trust to save you from drowning? While you thrash and scream and feel yourself weaken who do you look towards for guidance? When the taste of salt kisses the interior of your esophagus whose name is on the tip of your dying tongue?

For I, it is the Crown, as he saved my sister and I from exactly that fate - but who is it for you?”

Donti: “Hm.. As a "flock" we all support one another.. That way, we can have multiple points of support! One person supporting that many people would be very stressful for that one person, you know”

Duke: “Of course.

Even then in a home all parts play along and join in the symphony but even with that, some are still load-bearing.

Who would be your load-bearing walls? All I ask is for some simple names, you understand. My curiosity is much like a cat, you see. Only satisfaction may truly bring me back.”

Donti: “Hm.. Are you asking for the names of my friends?

Well. There's Jack and Raeva, whom Duchess has spoken with, I think. Llyr, Ren, and Luna are also friends of mine. But I try not to burden them.

They are not so much load bearing pillars, but more of frail walls to shield me from the cold.”

Duke: “The drifting breezes that bring forth frost and tremors truly are such tiresome times. That you have shields is wonderful and it does ease my heart, but I do feel as though I must impart some wisdom else I'd be an unfavourable acquaintance - do try and build yourself a roaring inferno, little sheep.

Have so much fire around yourself that the winds cannot glance your way and even the Grand Archer Yi looks on with fear.”

Donti: “... And what if the fire burns me?

What then?”

Duke: “Do you think yourself unable to control the flames?”

Donti: “...Yes. Flames are temperamental, after all. When the inferno's dried up every last bit of water and eaten all of the wood, what will it turn to?”

Duke: “You want the answer to be yourself, I can see you reaching for it with an outstretched palm. Here is the truth: you can quell flames easily with just a few words. You can breathe in the ash and let the smoke dissipate. You do not have to be burned.

Ah, but these are just fun matters to think about. Do not dwell on my words too much. I would hate for you to overthink just simple pondering.”

Donti: “...Ill take your words to heart, friend. Even if it's just banter.

How do you know this?”

Duke: “Do not cause yourself concern with such a thing. In case I have caused you to distress then please do take this video as repentance. Isn't it so lovely how she spins?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqejv_BQ7Zg”

Donti: “Oh! that is a pretty video.. I wonder how long it took for her to make it so effortless..?

Do you dance?”

Duke: “Such an exquisite form of art. The mastery she has put forth would bring others to shame and ruin. A true professional since birth. I myself do not dance in this way - my sister and I are well versed in the waltz and ballroom dance as is customary for our statuses - but ballet alludes me. Alas, if only that was the direction I chose for my life to go but no matter - I have embroidery, poetry and oil painting to keep me truly green from envy.”

Donti: “Those are very enviable hobbies! I imagine you're skilled at them too! As for ballet... Ive heard that in order to dance that way, one has to go through great pain. I'd hate for you to experience that”

Duke: “A bit of suffering is always worth the pain if beauty and joy can be received in the end, do you not think?”

Donti: “As long as youre happy, I suppose!

I’m sorry to cut this short, but its getting late for me! And probably for you too ^^

I hope you rest well!”

Duke: “I hope you have humble dreams and a quiet rest. Goodnight, little lamb.”