#All touching his face and attempting to push him around and thwarting all his plans

[tswwwit]

if you could

would you boop bill?

I would, then I would die horribly shortly afterward. And it would be worth it.

[downwiththeficness]

The Usurper-Chapter Four

Summary: Lilah McNamara stole things for a living. It was tedious work and often dangerous, which made it just exciting enough to keep her interested. After botching a routine job, Lilah finds herself standing amid monsters. Wholly unprepared for the horror of living under Amaru’s reign, Lilah decides to use her well honed skills to thwart the queen’s plans and prevent the end of the world.

Word Count: ~3,500

Disclaimer: I do not consent to this work being copied or posted to other sites of blogs.

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Lilah leaned against the wall next to the door and checked the time on her phone. It was still fifteen or twenty minutes before the sermon would start, but An—Brasa hadn’t said how early he might be picking her up. Before, she might have said he would be exactly on time, maybe a few minutes late. Now, she didn’t know.

So much about him was changed—everything, as he’d said. If she hadn’t seen him up close, Lilah might wonder if he was the same man. She felt a strange twist in her belly as she remembered the intensity of his gaze, how he looked at her as if he could see right through the facade of her grift. As if he knew exactly what she was doing.

Lilah passed a hand over her face. She had to stop dwelling on him. There was a job to do. And, when it was done, she was going to walk away. Her bags were packed and waiting for her in the car. The apartment around her was absolutely spotless. In a few hours, there would be no trace of her left. Get the staff. Get out. She could mull over how a few weeks spent in a cave could completely change a person when the money hit her bank account. The mystery of Brasa and his odd effect on her would be left behind.

A knock. Firm. Confident. Loud enough that she would have heard it from the back of the apartment. Lilah took a breath and smoothed the wrinkles on her dress. Then, she relaxed her face and opened the door, “Hello.”

Brasa was standing casually in her doorway. With the angle of the sun, he was illuminated in orange light that seemed to cling to his body in a burning glow. Lilah felt her brain take a mental step back to take him in fully. She never denied that Antonio was attractive. If he weren’t so repressed, Lilah would have considered him gorgeous. Standing there with his hands in his pockets, Brasa could not have been more captivating. He reached for her, tugging Lilah out of the apartment and onto the steps. She went willingly, closing the door behind her for the last time.

“I like this dress,” he said. His eyes wandered down her body in appreciation.

Lilah smiled, “I figured its a special occasion.”

Brasa hummed and his hands fell to her waist. He eased her closer, until her every breath was touched with coffee and caramel. Lilah’s body went lax even as her nerves sparked with awareness. She not only expected his kiss, but was surprised to find that she was eager for it. Get your kicks while you can, Lilah.

His lips were soft. Light, even. Lilah’s eyes fell helplessly closed as she leaned into him. It was just a kiss. Just a simple kiss. She shouldn’t be so affected by it, but fuck it if sensation didn’t sizzle all over until her knees threatened to give out. Lilah had a passing thought that she should make it quick. Pull away with a smile and suggest that they head to the church. Instead, her hands rose to curl around his shoulders.

Brasa made a soft noise of pleasure and pushed into her space. He coaxed her to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding against hers. Lilah inhaled sharply at the taste of him—still so sweet. And warm. His whole body was warm. Unnaturally so. She felt it seep into her skin, adding further sensation to her already overwhelmed nerves. Already, Lilah was rising up onto her toes in an attempt to press more of her body into his.

“We should get to the church,” she mumbled between kisses. Lilah didn’t really want to get to the church. She wanted to keep kissing him, wanted to know how far he would let her go while standing on her front steps. Too far. That’s how far she would go. It just couldn’t happen and Lilah knew it. She was on a deadline, after all.

He gave a little ‘mmhmm’ that was not at all convincing and kept kissing her. His hands wandered over her hips, flexing so that she arched into him. His head turned, lips following a path over her jaw and behind her ear, down to the column of her neck where he lingered for several long moments. Then, reluctantly, he lifted his head to look at her.

Lilah met his eyes—eyes that were so dark she couldn’t distinguish between the iris and the pupil. He was looking at her with nothing less than awe. Pure, open awe that only marginally fell short of adoration. Her breathing faltered and a vague sense of panic set in.

Thankfully, Brasa seemed to come back to himself. He straightened and took a deep breath, “The service will start soon.”

“Uh huh.” Her mouth was tingling, as if she’d eaten something vaguely spicy. Other parts of her were tingling, as well.

They stared at one another, unmoving. Not too far away, the church bells starting ringing. Lilah let out a relieved breath and gestured towards the street. Brasa gave a curt nod and guided her down the stairs with a gentle hand at the small of her back. He walked next to her like that the whole way, occasionally greeting someone as they approached. Lilah caught a couple inquisitive glances, but chose to keep her eyes forward and her head up. She felt no need to explain, nor did she want to move away from him.

Inside, she walked naturally towards the back and to the left. Brasa followed. They settled near the middle of the pew with an older couple nearby. Lilah smiled at them and turned her attention to the front where she pretended to be interested in the associate pastor’s conversation with some of the church elders. She might have made some small talk, but Brasa’s attention was diverted several times by parishioners coming up to speak with him.

They called him Antonio and he didn’t correct them. Lilah mulled that over for a moment or two before deciding that it was probably not worth his time to explain his story over and over. She guessed that he also wasn’t keen to relive his moments in the cave, either. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed him dealing graciously with questions about where he had been and what happened—I plan to speak to everyone about it another day. This is a happy moment for us all. One by one, they approached. And, one by one, Brasa calmly and firmly denied them an explanation. Lilah hid a smile at the secret thrill she got that he’d told her and no one else. Their own little secret in a relationship that was built on secrets.

Eventually, the organist approached her instrument and began to play. People took their seats and the chatter around the room faded. Lilah settled deeper into the pew with a calming breath, looking forward to seeing the reaction of the man next to her. He was watching the proceedings with interest, eyes moving over the people as they ascended the stage. Men and women in robes that were more ornate than normal stepped up onto the risers with choir books in hand. After a short introduction, they began to sing.

Lilah faintly recognized the hymn. Even though it was a crowd favorite, she never took the time to learn the words. Her head tilted slightly towards Brasa, fully expecting to hear him sing along as he always did. His silence made her look at him. He was still observing the proceedings with interest, but it was the interest of an outsider. A stranger.

Brasa flicked his gaze to her and noticed the furrow of her brow. He smiled softly and shifted to place his hand on her knee. It landed, warm and solid and way, way too familiar. Lilah stared at it, taking in the leather against the fabric of her skirt. Maybe he hadn’t come out of the caves unscathed. Maybe the gloves hid scars that he didn’t want others to see. She glanced at the buttoned collar of his shirt. He’d been wearing long sleeves in the kind of heat that demanded light, breathable fabrics. Another mystery that tugged at her curiosity.

The hymn ended and the star of the show took his place at the pulpit. He began with an effusive narrative of Antonio’s life, of his work in the church and what he’d done for the community. As expected, the speech shifted to the horror of finding him missing and all their prayers for his safe return. He called Antonio’s return a miracle and thanked God for His blessing.

Most of the crowd turned to look at them. Some of them clapped. A few crossed themselves. Brasa didn’t move, but he did give a nod of recognition. Lilah kept her eyes downcast, focused on his hand on her knee. It flexed briefly. Warm. Heavy. Grounding. Lilah suppressed the urge to cover it with her own. To thread her fingers between his.

The pastor continued, moving into the meat of the message. He directed the congregation to open up their Bibles to Luke, chapter fifteen. Lilah’s mouth pursed when she realized she hadn’t brought along the Bible she purchased at the airport. Just for show, of course. Neither had Brasa, apparently. The two of them sat still while the sound of onion skin pages rustled around them.

She couldn’t help but to look at him. Try to gauge his reaction. Brasa, sensing her attention, returned her look. There was something like amusement sparkling in his eyes, as if they were sharing another intimate secret. Lilah felt her mouth tipping upwards involuntarily.

A loud slap of flesh against wood interrupted their silent conversation. The stand-in pastor was revving up, voice rising to the height of the ceiling. Even from the back of the sanctuary, she could see the sweat beading at his brow. She could also see the reactions of the people he was preaching to. Some were pulling up tight, wrapping their arms around themselves as a matter of protection. Others were looking anywhere but at the front, hoping to hide their embarrassment. Lilah bit her lip against the urge to giggle.

Brasa leaned towards her, “This is how it has been?”

She nodded.

He seemed to think a moment, then, “I suppose its one way to put the fear of God in people.”

Lilah covered her mouth against another giggle while Brasa grinned. They spent the rest of the sermon casting humorous looks at one another and trying to keep their mirth contained. They were mostly successful, right up until the pastor took his notes and threw them into the air like so much confetti. She had to turn and hide her face behind her hand, which Brasa found entirely too funny. And that, in turn, set off a round of silent laughter that had the elderly couple nearby shushing them in censure.

When the service finally ended and they were dismissed to the courtyard outside for dinner. Lilah stood with Brasa and slid out of the pew. She wasn’t even surprised that he took her hand to walk with her through the back door and out into the evening air. On the way, she hazarded a glance towards the hall leading to where the staff waited for her.

The sun was well below the horizon and the whole courtyard was lit with string lights. Tables dotted the lawn in a semicircle. On the far end was a buffet of so much food that it made Lilah think every single person had brought something. Should she have gone to the store and bought food to share? Would the rest of the dinner guests think she was disrespectful for not providing for the group? Lilah looked over at Brasa. No, she’d brought the only thing that mattered.

They mingled briefly, before Brasa claimed to need a rest from the excitement. He led them to an empty table so they could sit. Lilah watched him lean back in the chair, thinking that he did look a little tired. She couldn’t imagine the whiplash of emotions he must be feeling as he tried to reintegrate into normal life.

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head, “No. Not yet. I will be later, I think.”

She gave an absent nod, “There’s definitely going to be leftovers. You’ll eat on that for a week.”

Brasa huffed a laugh, “It may go to better use at one of the local shelters.”

There was that selflessness that everyone always admired in him. She tilted her head and replied, “You should take some, too. You’ve...been through a lot. I think you should take care of yourself a little. Even if it means eating leftovers,” She looked over at the table, “for a week.”

His mouth opened to say something, but the words didn’t come. Brasa stared at her as if the thought of seeing to his own needs was foreign to him, as if it hadn’t even occurred to him. She let him take the time to process while she worked through her own discomfort of actually meaning the thing that she was saying.

Music began to play softly from a speaker near the doors of the church. It was an instrumental, a guitar strumming prettily alongside what might have been a violin. Lilah didn’t recognize the tune, but she thought it must be a love song. The timbre was filled with yearning that could only be attributed with love.

“What about you?” Brasa asked suddenly.

Lilah’s brows drew together in confusion.

“You,” he said again, “Do you take care of yourself?”

The lie was on the tip of her tongue. It was so well practiced that it sounded natural even to her own ears. She had a list of self care routines that she performed whenever she was stressed. A bottle of wine. A hot bath. A long walk. Music. All completely normal and all complete lies. She lifted a shoulder in a way she hoped was coy, “I do the best I can.”

Brasa leaned towards her with a focused look, “Really?”

“Uh huh.” Lilah hated the way her voice cracked.

“Will you show me,” He said in a voice that was low enough that she strained to hear, “how you take care of yourself?”

It was an innocent question. He was just asking for her to relax with him sometime. But, the way he said it, the tone of his voice, the earnest look in his eye—it stirred together to form something that was not at all innocent. She exhaled a breath did hadn’t realized she was holding and tried to nod.

Lilah had to look away so that she could cool the heat that wanted to rise up in her chest and cheeks. A line was forming around the food. People were milling around, some of which were definitely reliving the sermon. A few were casting curious glances at Brasa, clearly waiting for an opportunity to approach. One brave soul was crossing the lawn towards their table.

It was time.

Lilah looked at the man next to her. In any other situation, she might want to delve deeper into the new person that he’d become. Wrong time, wrong place, she guessed. There was a very violent, very angry man waiting for her to bring him a package and Lilah had no other excuse to keep him waiting.

“I’m going to head inside,” she said, “freshen up a bit before dinner.”

Brasa looked very much like he didn’t want to see her go. Lilah felt her resolve falter at his entreating expression. Thankfully, someone sat down at their table and began speaking to him with a strong handshake and a pat on the back. Lilah gave Brasa one last amused smile before turning to walk towards the church. With every step, she felt herself fall into the familiar place of focus that often accompanied her work. She had a clear goal and nothing was going to stop her. Not even unwanted feelings about a strange man whose kiss she could still feel against her lips.

It was her luck that the sanctuary was empty when she stepped through the heavy doors. The emptiness made scurrying down the side hall and to Antonio’s office as easy as breathing. At the door, she ducked down and tested the knob, cursing when she realized that it was locked.

Lilah was not good with lock picking. Her hands weren’t dexterous enough to feel for the pins and she rarely had the patience. Besides, there were other ways to get into locked rooms. Easier ways. She dug around in her purse for the keys she’d stolen from Antonio’s house while he was gone. A few seconds later, she was stepping inside and closing the door softly behind her.

Conscious of the sound of her own footsteps, Lilah padded over to the bookshelf and knelt down. She reached behind the books, smiling when her hand met cool metal. Staff in hand, she wasted no time getting back to the door and hustling from the office.

Which is where she met her first problem.

Standing at the end of the hall was a man holding what looked like a double barrel shotgun. Lilah froze, staff in hand, “Shit.”

He was yelling at her, telling her that he’d finally caught her and that the police were already on their way. Lilah hid the staff behind her thigh and smiled a smile of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar! I know you’ve been sneaking in at night. I see what you have stolen. Hands up!”

Lilah sighed and all the innocence evaporated from her body. She did as he asked, rolling her eyes when a sharp ‘aha!’ punched out of him. Sure, she was caught. But, that didn’t mean that it was over. She could see his hands shaking where they held the shotgun. Nerves, probably. She could also see the triumph in his eyes. A man who thought he’d already won never expected the tables to turn. Lilah was good at turning tables.

Raul backed into the sanctuary, Lilah following a few feet away. He stopped her in front of the stage, Raul standing on one side of the pulpit and Lilah on the other. “Drop it,” he ordered. The shotgun dipped a few inches towards the floor.

Lilah was absolutely not going to just drop a priceless relic. She was a professional, for fuck’s sake. Instead, Lilah eased lower until she was able to gently lay the staff down near her feet. The sound of sirens filtered in from a slowly closing distance. Raul’s head turned towards the large, open doors at the front of the church. In his distraction, Lilah took the opportunity to kick the staff to the side and under the stage. It rolled until it was hidden behind the skirting.

Raul began to turn back to her and stopped. A pair hands in shining leather caught him around the neck and lifted. Lilah’s mouth fell open in horror while Brasa held Raul aloft. His angry growl vibrated in her chest, which scared her all the more. She fell backwards and crawled several feet away. All the while, she couldn’t take her eyes off Raul’s terrified face. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open in a silent scream. The useless legs beneath him were kicking the open air and his hands were grasping at his neck.

Brasa’s mouth opened to reveal a dual set of fangs—where did those come from? She certainly hadn’t felt them when they kissed. Brasa used them to strike with effortless cruelty. Raul screamed as his carotid split open and blood flowed down his neck and into Brasa’s mouth.

This isn’t real, Lilah’s brain yelled while her eyes told her differently. This was real. Very real. Horrifically real. So real that Lilah felt bile rise in the back of her throat. Tremors racked her body and tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

Brasa dropped Raul, who didn’t look like he was breathing anymore. He stared at the body with his lips curled in disdain. Then, his shoulders turned and eyes that were blood red looked at her. Lilah flinched backwards, watching as the color returned to the warm brown she knew.

He took at step towards her. And another. Kneeling, Brasa said, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Lilah felt a tear fall over her cheek. She couldn’t speak. The sirens were close, now. Maybe a block or two away. Lilah didn’t know if she should feel grateful for the police arriving to the scene of her own crime or worried for their safety.

Brasa sighed, “I wanted to do this slower. Much slower. I wanted you to know me. To trust me. I hoped that it would ease the blow of finding out about what I am.”

She still couldn’t speak. Worse, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t run for her fucking life. The sirens grew ever louder.

“We’re out of time. We have to go.”

He held out his hand, and it was that small movement that cracked the ice around Lilah. She took a deep breath and she screamed.

[angelatsumu]

hq eyeliner hc's [nsfw]

hey babies! back again with another hc type deal with some of my favorite boys!

boys are: tendou, matsukawa & bokuto <3

basically just brain rot about boys would letting me do their eyeliner <3

warnings: slight dubcon with tendou, puppy!reader, oral (f!receiving), cockwarming, fingering, not proofread

requests are open! please send some requests for anything !!

t.satori

boy definitely loves whenever his good puppy does his eyeliner

let's be honest he does it himself usually

you'd come trotting up with the mischievous look on your face, eyeliner in hand.

he just smiles, sitting on the bed and you stood over him.

a smile grows on his face as he feels you crawling into his lap, straddling his waist.

"puppy's doing so good, hm~" he teases as you wiggle your hips in his lap, trying to get a better look at his eyelids for the eyeliner placement. his hands find your waist, gripping lightly as you wiggle a bit more, earning a low groan from your lover. a blush rose to your cheeks as you felt his growing semi against your backside, hand shakily continuing to apply eyeliner to the right eyelid. a huff leaves your lips when his hands move to smooth over your thighs, spreading instinctively to give him better access to your needy heat. he notices, a slight chuckle leaving his lips. you finally manage to complete the first eye, and just as you were moving toward the second, tendou managed to get his hand between the two of you, cupping your heat. you paused, studying your sly boyfriend's face for faltering. knowing your gaze, his eyes remained closed with a coy smirk on his face as his hand began to slowly rub between your folds, gently grazing your clit with each stroke. "hmph," you whimpered, retreating backward so you sat on the edge of his lap, hands just out of reach from your cunny. Tendou lets out a sigh, hands finding your hips and dragging you back into his lap, hard-on pressing into your heat intentionally. "finish what you started, puppy, or i wont be nice." you blushed at his words, craning your neck to begin work on his second eye. Tendou's fingers skillfully swipe aside your panties to collect your slick, spreading it over your clit with a pleased groan. Your cunny clenched around nothing as you whined, arching your back so your bodies pressed closer together. "puppy~" he scolded teasingly, pressing tight circles into your clit as you began to writhe beneath him. "tori, no fair," you whined softly, trying your hardest to focus on the last swipe of eyeliner. just as the pencil met his eyelid, tendou's two fingers penetrated your tight hole, walls immediately fluttering around him as your climax came closer. you whined once more, pressing your hips further onto his fingers in a wonton attempt to get some release. "i warned you~" tendou scolds, fingers moving at a punishing pace as his freehand circles around to rub tight circles into your swollen clit. "please, i-i'm so close~" he would rolls his eyes if they were open at your whining, and you knew that as your legs began to shake, body growing hot as your boyfriend continued to pleasure you. just as you feel that tight coil about to snap, tendou's ministrations on your needy heat cease, and he peaks an eye open to take in the disappointed look on your face. tears start to form in the corners of your eyes as you needily press your thirsty cunt into his hand, making a sloppy attempt of fucking his fingers. Tendou groans in annoyance, swatting at your clit which sends a jolt through your body. "eyeliner, pup. that's all you asked for." you know he's teasing but you can't help but cry a little at the thought of him doing this to you again. just as you go in for your second attempt, tendou's fingers are working you again. his fingers are crossed this time, giving you an irresistible feeling that with any clit stimulation would send you barreling to the edge. you begin to protest, not wanting to be edged right now—you were so sensitive for him, and this he adored more than anything—but tendou shuts you up. "you don't get to tell me no until you finish the fucking thing you begged me to do," he huffs, smirking at the whimper and feel of your salty tears on his skin. tendou loved you, but he loved being mean, too. finally, you finish the swipe across his eyelid, hoping that tendou's merciless behavior ceases, but he has other plans. his eyes flutter open, immediately pinned on you as his free hand once again finds your clit, rubbing figure-eights that have you seeing stars. the way you're squeezing him is driving him crazy, and all he knows is that he needs you to cream for him. your legs start shaking and you collapse against his chest, crying out his name as your orgasm washes over you in waves. his hands never stop pumping in your addictive cunny, and tendou smiles

down at you as if to say, "we aren't done yet".

m.issei

he let you do it when he saw you watching a tiktok of some dude saying he wanted a girl to sit in his lap and do his eyeliner

the issue wasn't that you were allowed to do it, it was that he knew your plan and he played dumb the entire day about it

i mean mans knows you did his eyeliner so that he would get all horny and fuck your brains out, but mans plays the long game

issei just really wants his puppy to beg to be touched like the touch-starved girl she is

"you've been following me around all day, y/n". his voice almost sounds annoyed, but you know that isn't the case. your boyfriend lived for how needy you were with him, but he enjoyed the occasional front to seem less whipped. "i am your puppy, after-all," you retorted, as slight blush at your own words on your cheeks. issei pauses, turning around to see you standing there with your hands crossed over your chest, pout in full-effect. he grins, eyes raking over your form slowly before he rolls his eyes and turns around once more. "if you're gonna stand there, at least help me put the dishes away," he snarks, and you sigh, being the obedient girl he knew you to be. as you're putting the last few dishes into the dishwasher, you feel issei's palm press into your lower back. a sigh leaves your lips as he takes place behind you, leaning so his lips were against your skin. "how about you get a better look at this eyeliner between your legs, hm?" an audible whimper leaves your lips as your tease of a boyfriend backs away, feigning innocence as he looks for an imaginary beverage in the fridge. "issei~" you whine softly, making your way over to him. he glances at you with a smirk on his face, eyebrows raised in fake surprise. "Hm, so horny puppy forgot her manners~" He's teasing and you know it, but you can't bother with games when he stands before you like this, grey sweats hanging low on his hips and hair disheveled. you try to pry your eyes from the prominent dick print, just enough to not get caught, but matsun's chuckle gives it away. matsun closes the fridge, moving to tower over you before backing you into the counter. "staring is impolite, puppy." his arms take place on either side of the counter, caging you in as you let out a whine. he notices your neediness, especially in the way you move your thighs together to create friction for that desperate clit of yours. your lover smirks down at you, shaking his head as he immediately drops to his knees. "you might wanna hold on, puppy~ " before you can process his words, issei's gotten your panties off, forcing them into your mouth. He raises his shirt you're wearing, eyes marveling at your cunny. he breathes in your scent like it's his last breath, licking his lips hungrily as he does so. issei hoists your right leg over his shoulder, sliding in closer to your needy heat. matsun's tongue licks a fat stripe between your folds, warm muscle sending involuntary chills down your spine. his eyes peer up at you, watching your face contort as he delicately presses his tongue into your clit, slowly drawing circles there. a gutteral groan leaves his lips as he feels your slick covering his mouth and cheeks, moving his tongue to lap up the entirety of your cunny at a faster but precise pace. your hands take purchase in his hair as he circles your clit once more, paying close attention the shuddering of your body with each stroke. his hands have a tight grip on your legs as he uses his left to hoist your left leg over his shoulder, rendering you helpless to his will. he pressed your further into the counter, groaning as you involuntary buck your hips against his tongue, desperate to feel his hot muscle inside your cunt. "behave, puppy," he scolds you, continuing to sloppily lap up your wetness as he feels your body quake beneath him. he needs you to cum, so desperate to satisfy his needy puppy after denying her for so long—for him. issei moves his tongue to your entrance, circling sloppily before pushing the muscle into your pulsing walls, and the pull on his hair tells him all he needs to know. matsun's tongue thrashes within you, moving at just enough speed you're seeing stars and losing your grip on your release. he manages to slide a hand between the two of you, massaging your clit with gentle rigor, and moaning into your heat, using the entirety of his tongue to lap up your slick. with a final pinch of your clit combined with the pressure of his tongue thwarting inside you, your orgasm washes over you and you're seeing white, nothing but issei matters as your hips buck wildly

against him. he grins into your cunny, knowing he's done well for his puppy.

b. koutaro

loves the eyeliner in the boys lap trend!

would probably see you doing it one day, and he's like hm?

and then he sees a tiktok of a dude saying he loves when his girl does eyeliner in his lap, and he's like uh, yeah?

so he sends you the tiktok, and you're more than happy to fulfill his fantasy or whatever

he, being the needy boy he is, suggests cockwarming while doing his eyeliner. (bo loves cockwarming doing anything but that's for another day)

"come on, puppy, please~" he whines, legs spread with a hand down his grey sweatpants. you sighed, your strong will wearing thin whenever your boyfriend gave you the puppy dog eyes. bo' loved you and he was constantly looking for ways to keep you guessing, keep you excited about his touch. he knew he never had to try very hard, but still he enjoyed the chase of it all. you clambered into your boyfriends lap, sinking onto his length slowly with a wince. he grinned at your faintly pained expression, knowing his girth always took you off guard. you sat in his lap, smiling at his excited features and he blushed softly under your gaze. it took everything in him not to tear you apart, completely disregarding the eyeliner. as you got situated, your velvety walls clenched around earning light whimpers from your beloved himbo. he grimaced, knowing he didn't want to ruin the intimate experience at hand. "please just start, puppy," he whined, wriggling under your touch as he grew restless. you smirked at him, enamored by your easily excitable boyfriend. you reached to start the first swipe of eyeliner on his left eye, straining in his lap to reach his eyes. as you approached, bo couldn't keep his eyes off of where you two were connected, and that made you blush. "kou, please close your eyes," you huffed and he obliged. his hands instinctively found your waist as you wiggled in his lap once more, his cock twitched inside you at the slight movement. a soft whimper left your lips at the sensation as you struggled to remain focused on the task at hand. with the first swipe across his eyelid, kou thrusted lightly into you, growing too restless to sit still. "bokuto~" you whimpered, withdrawing your hand and lightly pinching his cheek as you shifted attention to the other eyelid. "hurry up and finish so I can fuck you, puppy~" his tone was gruff and urgent, and you blushed, nodding softly. needless to say, the second swipe took no longer than two seconds and your brains were fucked out instantly.

admin: i hope you all enjoyed!! also, thanks for 99 followers <3

[todoscript]

loyalty

character: todoroki shouto.

warnings: suggestive language. a woman tries coming onto your man.

author’s note: was vibing with this with my girls the other night but might as well put the vibes on here too because we know that once shouto’s in love with you, he won’t ever betray that love

todoroki shouto

to cut to the chase, the very moment he realizes other women—whether they be heroes, news reporters, office workers, fans, etc.—start flirting with him his dick just goes limp.

soft, flaccid, not even the wind can get that thing to move

these ladies could go through the most tasteless ways, vying for his attention, like revealing clothing or unnecessary touching. still, he always gives them the bare minimum interaction, not so much as sparing a glance in their direction when he knows they’re just desperate to get in his pants.

he’s incredibly blunt and cold, and definitely isn’t shy about shoving them off when they get way too close, it’s pretty damn intimidating.

after all, we know how rude he can be when his patience gets tested.

they can go all they want at wasting his time, trying so desperately to garner his favor but as soon as you walk into the room, that’s a whole other story.

to those that only know him professionally, it’s staggering how quickly he softens up and goes starry-eyed for you.

a complete 180. like is this really the same man that nearly freezes nasty villains to death?

you can practically feel the devotion and adoration lighting in his eyes, all directed toward you. it’s only a matter of time before those ladies all give up.

they end up walking out of his agency with loud contempt in their heels at their utter humiliation.

- - - - -

Her nefarious attempts at wooing Shouto so far have all been fruitless, the wispy, exaggerated tone of her voice sounding like static every time it abandons her puckered lips. Grainy, annoying white noise. Shouto grimaces when he hears it, catching onto the game she’s trying to play.

His guest—a sidekick coming in place of her boss—circles the desk in his office, where the two were reviewing a plan devised to thwart a troublesome gang of villains. For any inessential reason, she’s checking her nails and tucking away stray strands of hair as if preparing herself for an interview—making herself presentable. Her hums threaten the silence, and he has a foreboding that these plans they’re going over are in a distant corner of her mind.

Now, Shouto more than realizes he’s an exceptionally desired man. He’s had his fair share of interviews and newspaper headlines depicting him as “the hot yet cool pro dominating the hero scene”. It didn’t take long for him to acknowledge the slew of admirers that came with his reputation and good looks. Some of which he’s had the displeasure of dealing with quite often nowadays.

Shouto sighs quietly. There comes a time when these “fans” come onto him too strongly that it becomes a hassle. Especially when they cross boundaries he has so critically established.

“C’mon, Shouto,” she muses freely, and the white and red-haired hero begins regretting the fact he took his own name as his hero alias. “Going over these plans is so boring, don’t you think? Why don’t we blow this joint and say… go out for lunch together, hmm?” She hits her shot again. There’s suggestion hidden in her faux naïveté, her act inflated by her fluttering eyelashes as Shouto turns to her.

Crossing his arms, his lips set into a frown. “You’re here for work, not to hang around and act like we’re friends,” he says firmly, piling bricks and binding them together with mortar to implant a wall he prays will drive off her desperation so he can finish this meeting quickly. The sidekick, however, seems determined to tear down these barriers as if the pro has issued an unspoken challenge. Her lips smothered in gloss upturn into a smirk.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” she teases, hoisting herself onto the table next to the array of papers sprawled in front of him. She makes a point at crossing her legs, hoping he hooks onto the bait of her enticing display. To her dismay, Shouto doesn’t even blink, finding the material written on the papers more interesting.

Eyes widening, she questions the hero’s tenacity in disbelief. Her confidence stumbles amidst his lack of interest. She bites the inside of her cheek, pouting. Time for drastic measures.

Shimmying closer to Shouto, she leans forward, giving her voice a better path to intrude his ears with light whispers. “Don’t tell me you’ve been grumpy as if late because you haven’t had anyone to sleep with…” she taunts suggestively, glinting at how the hero’s muscles flex at her statement and assumes she’s finally pushed his buttons.

Oh yeah, she’s pushed some buttons alright. Little does she realize they’re all the wrong ones.

Diving brazenly into a torrent, the sidekick lifts a hand toward Shouto’s arm. “Y’know, I would gladly help you fix that if you let me—” Her words are thrown off, brought to an abrupt halt by him gripping her wrist.

The sudden tense, chilly air has the sidekick shivering at both the coldness and apprehension at what is in store for her.

“I’m sure you know by now that I’m taken,” Shouto emphasizes his words with a steely look in his mismatched eyes that nudge in the direction of your photo framed on his desk, your joyful yet spiritless expression unknowingly witnessing this woman’s acts on your man. She gulps, aware it is her own fault for choosing to ignore your picture and still have the audacity to try and have her ways with him. How despicable. Now she has to face the consequences.

Shouto cruelly shoves her hand from his grasp, his expression so sharp it almost pierces like daggers.

“So I’d appreciate it if you stopped trying to pursue a man that obviously has no interest in you before I tell your boss that their sleazy sidekick can’t stay in line and perform her duties.”

[relaxxattack]

okay this is prob au/ooc bc it’s banking on jackie knowing ran wants to kill him and thinking it’s funny when he fails but here u go (if I cuts off i’ll send the rest of it. also I’m on my phone and not checking for typos sorry)

Jackie jumps up to sit on the bench, leaving Ran to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. The general is talking about something. And Ran should really be listening, but all he can think about is how much this one person is ruining his life. If he goes back to Terminus a failure what then? The delays are already had enough.

He snaps out of it when he hears his name being called. And Jackie is gesturing for him to come closer so he does. He tries to leave a respectable gap between them - most people don’t like having their personal space crowded (Ran included). But Jackie frowns, drags him closer, and then frowns again.

“What the hell! You’re still so much taller than me.”

“Maybe you should try standing up.” Ran suggests, painfully aware of the fact Jackie’s hand hasn’t left his wrist. “Although I don’t see how it’ll help your ego if you need to stand on a bench to be taller than me.”

Jackie laughs, and finally lets go of Ran’s wrist. Only to loop his arms loosely around Ran’s neck. What. “You’re lucky you’re so cute because that was really rude.”

And he doesn’t have anything to say to that so he doesn’t respond. He’s sure that at any moment, Jackie will release him and go back to talking about whatever. But Jackie seems content. And Ran is quickly growing uncomfortable by how much he feels the same.

This is an opportunity, he reminds himself suddenly. He’s close enough to his target to reach his back. And the knife hidden up his sleeve means he won’t draw suspicion when getting it into his hand. All he needs to do is lean forward slightly to rest his hands on the bench behind Jackie.

So he does. He hoped to make it a casual shifting of pose. But he’s close enough to hear Jackie’s sharp intake of breath so he pulls back. Surely Jackie suspects him. There’s no other explanation for it. He didn’t think the general would be smart enough to interpret such a subtle movement as a threat. But he supposes Jackie was an assassin as well.

But when Jackie unloops his arms from around Ran’s neck, he doesn’t shove him away. He slides on hand down to hold his shoulder, and the other up to cup his cheek.

Oh.

Slowly, giving Ran more than enough time to move away, Jackie drags him down so their faces are almost level. (It forces him to put his hands behind Jackie on the bench, but that barely registers in his mind.) Jackie stops just before their lips touch.

And Ran will never admit this to anyone - not even himself - but he’s the one that closes the distance. It’s a short kiss. That’s the excuse his jumbled mind provides him for not taking advantage of his potion and Jackie’s distraction to complete his mission. It’s a short kiss, but they only barely pull away from each other. Jackie’s eyes are still closed and there’s a soft smile on his face.

Ran desperately tries to collect his thoughts. He has never wanted to complete a mission less. Because Jackie’s touch burns in the best way possible and he doesn’t want to ever move. And that scares him more than anything.

He could go in for another kiss. Now that he knows what’s happening. He can approach it calm and collected, and he won’t be too distracted by the shock of it to complete his job. He can finally be rid of the whirlwind force that is General Jackie, who spins around him and leaves him disorientated at every moment.

He leans in again, and forces himself to focus on the cool metal of his knife in his hand. It’s an easy angle straight to his heart. If Ran was perhaps less focused on not being distracted by the kiss, he’d be able to note how poetic it is.

He kisses Jackie, and feels his knife skate off Jackie’s armour. The armour that Ran didn’t realise he was wearing due to his layers of clothing effectively concealing it. Jackie laughs a little into the kiss when it happens. And there’s no way he hasn’t been found out now. The hand on his cheek disappears, only to reappear around his wrist. Where Jackie must press some nerve or something because Ran’s hand spasms and the knife clatters to the bench.

The smile on Jackie’s face would almost be cruel if Ran thought the general was capable of such a thing. But surely smiling in the face of his failure is cruel no matter how soft it looks.

“You’re going to have to try a bit harder than that.” Jackie murmurs. And they’re still so close that Ran can practically feel the words against his lips.

He’s so sure that this is the end. That Jackie will shove him away and call for the guards so he can be jailed and executed. Or pick up the knife and kill Ran himself. And he should be running. He should be trying to make a hasty escape. Which is something he wasn’t even considering in his desperation to finally be done with this.

He hadn’t checked to see if Jackie was unarmoured and unarmed. He hadn’t planned his escape route. Jackie has disorientated him so thoroughly that he may as well be a novice at this.

If he runs now, he’ll go back to Terminus a failure. But at least he’ll be alive. And he can pass off whatever knowledge he’s gathered in his stay here to the council so they can finally finish the job.

But he’s frozen in place.

Jackie pushes him back enough to so that he can jump off the bench. Ran feels inexplicably cold now that Jackie’s no longer touching him.

“You’re lucky you’re handsome.” Jackie is grinning, as though he didn’t just thwart an assassination attempt from someone he was kissing. “Let’s go get dinner tomorrow night, yeah?”

Ran takes a step back and forces his brain to start back up again. He’s half convinced that he made the whole thing up due to Jackie’s strange reaction. But the knife is still sitting on the bench.

“Okay.” He says. Because he’s simply not sure what else to say.

“Um, I don’t really have a time preference. 6pm sound good to you?”

“Sure.”

“Or, if we hang out during the day doing investigation work or whatever else then we can just go whenever we’re hungry.” Jackie shrugs. “Doesn’t need to be a fancy event.”

“If you say so.”

“Great!” Jackie grins and makes an excited motion with his hands. “It’s a date! See you tomorrow!”

The general gives him a lazy salute, and then practically skips out of the room. Leaving Ran to stand there and try to process what just happened.

He’ll have to go back to his room and figure out what to do now that Jackie knows for sure he’s trying to kill him. He’ll have to figure out if dinner is some obscure play to trap him, or whether Jackie is really just stupid enough to let this slide.

(The best and safest solution, is for Ran to just leave. But for reasons he can’t and won’t explain, he pushes that thought away.)

THIS IS SO GOOD HELLO. ITS LIKE. FUCKED UP AND I AM SO INTERESTED. JACKIE IS DEFINITELY FUCKED UP LIKE THAT LIKE I THINK LIKE THIS SEEMS LIKE SOMETHING HED DO.

[mrsgiovanna]

The Escape Route (Yan! Don Giorno x Fem!Reader)

A request from a lovely nonnie mouse asking how the Don would handle his darling attempting to escape from his home. A bit of a drawn out scenario... I really hope you enjoy the read.

TW: Manipulative relationship dynamics, possessive behaviour, yandere behaviour

Word Count: 2.7k

Your brisk walk was slowly turning into a run as you worked your way through the busy streets of Naples. With your breathing ragged and eyes darting around to make sure nobody was on your tail, you tried to think about how best to put your escape plan back on track.

You knew that Giorno’s influence extended further than most, but you hadn’t expected him to have the power to derail every single option you had thought of to escape from his overpowering grip. You had been running around for hours now, from station to station, none would book you a ticket to anywhere, every cab ride was hastily halted after a dubious phone call… resulting in you being unwillingly ejected from the vehicle each time. So there you were, running into the more dangerous parts of Naples, frantically looking for some kind of shelter to house you while you thought of what you would do next.

Thankfully, you found a tiny inn, sparse amenities, small and far removed enough you thought, to not be on Giorno’s radar. The kindly old lady didn’t ask many questions, and you paid with the cash you had been slowly hiding away for such an event.

You couldn’t pinpoint when your relationship with Giorno had descended to this but you knew that if you stayed any longer his charming brand of captivity would best your common sense and you would be trapped forever. With Giorno, you had access to anything, no request was too demanding… in exchange though he required you to be within his confines at all times, listen to and obey his honeyed instructions with minimal fuss, and to not run off in the occasions when he did take you out of the mansion. I’m just keeping you safe he said… little did you know that the most dangerous one of all was the Don himself with his hypnotic gaze.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, it could have been much worse, he never harmed you physically, never pushed the intimacy boundaries further than you allowed… in your moments of weakness, it was you who had sought out his embrace. The absurdity of it all- vacillating between love and hate for this man, and so to protect the fraying thread that held your sanity together, you decided to make a run for it. It was not an impulsive idea, you had spent the better part of the year planning your grand escape, trying to imagine every way in which your plan could go awry and possible solutions to the problems. Ironically, this was a habit that you had picked up from Giorno himself, and should your plan actually work, it would be quiet poetic- escaping using the traits of your captor against him. You had gathered small amounts of cash here and there, not enough to rouse anyone’s suspicion, and made sure that any and all evidence of you memorizing the layout of the surrounding areas was completely erased. Perhaps the most difficult task of them all, was to lure Giorno into false sense of security regarding your disposition towards your situation. In the weeks leading up to your escape, you had flawlessly played the part of the dutiful ‘wife’, listening attentively, spoiling him with gentle touches and loving gazes, making sure to build up your affections gradually, as if they had been blooming naturally so as not to trigger any suspicion.

Finally, you saw your opportunity to make your move that morning. Giorno had to leave early to meet with a few associates from Japan, so you rose with him, and watched as he got ready, helping him with his hair and doing up his tie. Looking up to meet his crystalline eyes, you noticed he considered you with an expression you haven’t seen on him before.

“What is it tesoro? Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked in a gentle tone.

“You’re… just so beautiful… would you like to come with me today? I’m sure they would love to meet you… I call them associates but in actual fact one of them is a relative of mine. You’ll only be bored for a little while; after that we can do whatever you would like to,” he asked with a gentle smile. You thought about how you were going to answer, ultimately you knew you didn’t want to go, favoring your grand escape instead, but denying him that quickly would definitely set off alarm bells in his mind.

“Ah! Perhaps next time my love, I’m not going to be good company today, I woke up with a bit of a headache… I’ll probably go back to bed and sleep it off after you leave,”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to make you feel any better bella, I hate the fact that you’re hurting,” Giorno cupped your face in his hands and gently stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, “get some rest bella mio, I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can,” kissing you on the forehead he left without another word. Waiting for him to be completely out of the villa, you watched as his car exited the driveway before quietly packing what you could, mentally going over your checklist more times than you cared to count. Since your change in attitude, the staff at the villa were more accepting of your whims, partly to do with the fact that Giorno had instructed them to do so - within reason, but also, because you had won over their trust and if you had to be honest with yourself, there was nothing you could fault them for. The dynamic Giorno had with them was not ruled by fear, but rather by admiration… all of them being drawn in by his charisma. Managing to maneuver your way through the mansion and out an exit that saw you climbing over a hidden portion of the eastern wall surrounding the villa, you had finally been outside the confines of the villa on your own for the first time in well over a year.

In the car on the way to meet with his guests Giorno was preoccupied. He had noticed the gradual change in your behavior and as much as he would have loved to give you the benefit of the doubt, a nagging inclination that you might be lying always clouded his thoughts. He loved you- entirely- even though there were days in which you rejected his affections, he was patient with you… eventually you’d understand, the dangers that lurked in every corner made your captivity, as you so unceremoniously called it, a necessity. He had grown so accustomed to making decisions with little to no advice, he had adopted that stance in his personal life as well. He rationalized that once you had accepted the fact that his actions were all borne from his desire to protect you, your lives would be peaceful, until then, he would be patient, enduring your tantrums and snide remarks with the grace of an aristocrat… which only upset you further. To Giorno, you were to be looked after, protected- treasured, and so no matter how much you had tested his patience in the beginning, not once were you ever hurt or taken advantage of. Violence and shackles were much too unrefined for a gem like you, so to correct your behavior, the young don resorted to other, less threatening means of discipline.

“Don Giovanna? We have arrived,” shaken out of his musings by his consigliere, his attention was drawn to the fact that they had arrived at their destination ready to discuss the matters at hand.

“Thank you Lorenzo, would you check if the staff has everything ready while I greet our guests?”

“Of course, excuse me,” with that, Lorenzo had left, hastily attending to a call as he walked.

“Ah, welcome to Italy, I take it you and your associates have settled in well?” said Giorno with a polite bow, being mindful of the cultural conventions of his esteemed guests. Drinks were ordered and everyone present had settled down in the private lounge, except for Lorenzo who had been animatedly conversing on the phone for enough time to make his absence felt. Frustrated by what he was tasked to do, he abruptly ended his conversation and sought out Giorno to give him the news, finally, the staff at villa Giovanna had realized you were gone.

“Don…”

“The expression on your face can only mean one thing… when did they notice?”

“A few minutes ago, she couldn’t have gotten too gar given the timeframe… what would you like me to do?”

“You stay here and keep our guests company, I’ll handle this…” not even bothering to alert the driver, Giorno collected the keys from the valet and zoomed off. Making a short drive even shorter, he arrived home in foul mood, although he did assign some of the blame to himself, recognizing his fatal error when he ignored his gut feeling, he was disappointed at how easily you had managed to slip from his grasp and wondered if his staff had been plotting with you all along. He would have to address that later on though, his primary concern now was to locate you and bring you back home.

“Mista, I have a special request to make, please come to the villa, bring Fugo with you,” said Giorno in a quick call, there were few who he trusted more than his underbosses, and this task was something that required only the most competent people. After a short explanation of the situation at hand, both men had already started making calls to the relevant people in an attempt to thwart your plans.

You would think the most frightening thing about Giorno would be his god-like requiem ability. But over and above the raw power he possessed was his reach, the world seemed so small, as if it had rested comfortably in his elegant hands- and you had been getting reminders of this inescapable fate over and over again. By the time you had given up on the idea of escaping through any traditional means of transportation, you must have tried fifty different avenues, each attempt failing more spectacularly than the last. Having had enough, you resigned yourself to the fact that you would not be leaving Naples immediately, and found refuge in the outskirts of the city. You climbed the rickety staircase behind the lady as she prattled on about her day.

“Shall I get you something to eat dolcezza? You look like you could use something warm and comforting in your system. In fact, let me do just that, you get settled in so long,” said the innkeeper before you had a chance to interject. Deciding to take a shower to wash off the day, you took comfort in the fact that this place was so remote, you were almost certain you were safe for the meantime. The tiny bathroom was a far cry from the palatial one you had grown accustomed to while being in Giorno’s villa, but it served the same purpose, only this time, you had your freedom. The place was peaceful though aside from the sound of what must have been a car backfiring and the small creaks from the natural expansion and contraction of the dwelling, it was quiet enough for you to calm down and organize your thoughts. Now that you were comparatively more at ease than before, you felt the strain of the day in your body, aching muscles, sore feet and cuts and scrapes that began to smart affixed a slight grimace to your face as you rummaged through your belongings to find some sort of pain relief.

A sharp knock on the door disrupted your search. You stayed silent for a moment, contemplating if you should ignore it or answer.

“Dolcezza, I’ve brought you a small snack, you’re going to enjoy it,” you just wanted to crawl into bed and forget the day you had, but you also didn’t want to snub her kindness, you reached out to unlock and open the door.

“Buongiorno tesoro… enjoying your little excursion? Marina here was kind enough to show me to your room so I could surprise you… seems like it worked, look at this charming expression,” turning to the smiling woman, Giorno nodded for her to leave. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, you wanted to cry, to run, to jump right out through the hazy window but your feet were rooted to the ground.

“Well (y/n) �� you’ve been running around Naples for the entire day, have you found what you’re looking for?” his usual honeyed tone was laced with derision as he critically eyed your surroundings. “is this what you were so desperate to escape to? Look at this place… look at the condition you’re in… how is any of this better than everything I’ve given you?”

“I have my freedom here…” was all you could muster as your mind raced thinking of how he had still managed to find you despite all the precautions you had taken. “Giorno, how…”

“How did I find you? I always have my ways…” he said, sauntering over to the window, opening it just enough to make eye contact with whoever was outside, dismissing them with a nonchalant wave of his gloved hand. Pulling out his cellphone, he showed you the opened application, explaining that he had been using it to track your location, following the signal from the diamond earrings he gifted you on your birthday, carelessly left on when you had made your hasty escape. In all fairness, you hadn’t considered that the dainty gems were anything more than that. Feeling your legs starting to give out under you at the revelation that you were the cause of your own undoing, you sat on the bed hanging your head in defeat.

“Freedom, you say? Tell me how has that worked for you?”

“That’s not fair! You’ve basically controlled every single encounter I’ve had, and even when I thought I had escaped you by coming here, you still somehow managed to manipulate the situation…” you shouted, tears of frustration running feely down your face.

“Stop being dramatic, the world is full of horrible people, everyone is looking out for themselves, I wish you would realize that… tell me tesoro, how many people turned you away? Threw you out of their cars, made up excuses to deny your requests? Not one of those people looked into those pleading eyes and thought you were worth helping. Why? Because people are selfish…”

“You… you threatened them all, you…”

“You give me too much credit, it’s not like I was going to kill them, I hate violence, despite your disappointingly low opinion of me, even you have to admit that I’ve never done anything to physically harm you… all I want is to protect you, you don’t understand how things work out there,”

“It’s not like you’ve ever given me the opportunity to find out how things are… I”

“Some people are just meant to be loved and protected tesoro, isn’t that enough? Why would you want to risk being hurt to get a taste of something that’s actually not even worth it… you’re not cut out for this life… I’ve been here so I know this isn’t what you deserve. You’re coming back home with me,”

“But, I- “ you attempted to interject but his intense glare halted you.

“(y/n), I’m very patient under most circumstances, but please don’t test me now, I won’t say it twice…” said Giorno with a slight bite to his voice, it was clear he was growing tired of this conversation, and you were losing your will to fight back. With a quivering lip and misty eyes, you moved to gather your belongings but was stopped by the young don, arguing that he can replace whatever is there, wanting no other reminders of this transgression to follow you both back. Resigning yourself to this fate, realizing there was nowhere beyond his reach, you grasped his outstretched arm and followed him to the car to return to your life of opulent captivity. Months and months of planning all resulting in nothing, it became glaringly obvious to you that escaping was futile…

[samadiw]

THE ALGORITHM

Chapter 52 is up ❤

HAPPY READING 😍

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Relax, Draco! Don't be such a killjoy." A masculine scent invaded her personal space. The smell was repulsive and almost made her vomit.

"Who's Draco?" The Muggle man probed curiously while slipping a hand around her waist. Hermione attempted to move away, grinned slyly and stated the truth, "My gorgeous fiancé."

Draco couldn't help but smile, and then the sudden realisation of another man wanting to spend time in her company made him deeply frown. 

The determined man caught sight of the impressive ring and tried to persuade, "Ah, how about we forget about him tonight, love? You and I can have a little fun." He could pocket the ring and sell it for a sizable fortune if all else failed.

Draco fumed, "Granger! Are you there? Answer me!" His free hand balled into a hardened fist, and he mustered all his self-control not to put it through Theo’s antique mirror. Blaise sensed something was wrong and tried to be the voice of reason, "Hang up the phone, mate."

Hannah emerged from the side with a deep frown of disapproval etched onto her face. Without hesitation, she pushed the man's hand off Hermione’s person before she could and shoved him back with a dire warning, "Don't touch her."

Don't touch her? What? When had it escalated into touching? Draco was livid. His hold on the phone tightened, and his patience hung by a very fine thread.

Reluctantly, the man fell back and sneered, "Mind your own business." This no good bitch was thwarting his plans. Hannah stood her ground, sized up the pitiful Muggle, cocked her head to the side and smirked, "Make me." Hermione kept her eyes on the man seeking an altercation with Hannah and spoke calmly into the phone, "Good night, Draco." Her bad idea to rile up Malfoy had backfired.

Draco insisted with more force than necessary, but his plea fell on deaf ears, "Granger, don't you dare hang up," Blast, the line went dead, and Draco stared at the black screen with his heart pounding in his ears. Theo caught sight of his friend’s anxious face and demanded in an elevated state of panic, "Where are they?"

[drxwsyni]

HC’s - Yandere Childe

anonymous asked: “Hii, may I ask for Yandere Childe headcannons pls? Thanks” a/n: i got a little carried away, and ended up doing a few drabbles with some of the hc’s. but ty for the request nonnie! warnings: general yandere themes

•   Depending on how you meet, Childe would attempt, at least for a while, to keep his identity as a Harbinger concealed from you. Mostly for convenience’s sake - it allows him to gather information on you. Despite you being new to this world, the Fatui are such a threat to most that it’d be hard not to know about them. And so if you were aware that Childe was so closely associated with them, you’d surely try to keep him at a distance.

•   He has no problem omitting the truth, even lying outright if he must - the chance to be with you in your natural element is very important to him. While he wouldn’t say that the thought of making you his the hard way doesn’t get him excited, there will always be time for that later. For now, a peaceful, ‘normal’ if you will, relationship is what he’ll go for. It’s much easier for him to get close to you that way. Should you somehow become suspicious of him, it won’t last for long. Childe is nothing if not manipulative during these times, so as long as the damage is minimal, tricking you to having him back in your good graces shouldn’t be hard.

•   Using his power as a Harbinger, he’ll be sure to keep a handful of Fatui reserved for monitoring you. Not that he wouldn’t kill to watch over you himself, but he’s an extremely busy man. When he’s not around, handpicked guards will watch you from the shadows. It’s a 24/7 arrangement - Childe knows no limits when you’re involved.

•   He finds a strange amount of joy in observing your little quirks. Whether it be from afar or up close, you’ll often miss how his eyes remained trained on your form. It’s because of that he can so easily tell what you’re thinking, and how you’re feeling - even when you don’t tell him yourself. Subsequently, it becomes impossible to lie to Childe. Before long he’s got all of your micro expressions filed away in his mind. You might say one thing, but he’ll always know if you mean another. Of course, he doesn’t want you to know that.

“Now then, what’s my beloved darling doing out this late at night, hmm?”

Despite your blood running cold, the sound of Childe’s voice behind you when you thought you’d avoided him, you had to steel yourself. He wasn’t supposed to be here, having been told by the man himself he’d be out tending to business until tomorrow afternoon. Turning, you met his self-satisfied, smug looking face. “Just out for a walk, why don’t you join me.”

He drew closer, and while your earnest smile and warm eyes told one story; your rigid stance, how he could tell your nails were digging crescent moons into your palms - it told a much, much different one. Childe already knew you were planning on going out to gather supplies tonight, stocking up to travel across Liyue in search of the truth, of how to get yourself home - but you didn’t know he knew that.

Looking down at you, he responded, thwarting your plans for the night. “While that does sound nice, you really shouldn’t be out at this hour. It’s far too dangerous for someone like you - let me take you home.”

•   At any point should he give up the innocent act, it’s like night and day. You practically get whiplash at how he so easily becomes violent, or says the crudest of things. Yet he still does it all with a smile on his face, only now it’s much more unhinged. All the while Childe soaks up the look of horror you show him, proving to be equally as captivating as all of the other reactions you give him. Mostly, he’s glad that he can show you his strength in full. Physically, emotionally, especially his status as a Harbinger - none of it needs to be hidden.

“While I’ve enjoyed these little games of pretend, it’s high time I show you what I’m really capable of. Oh, but don’t worry, I’d never hurt you. It’s others who I’ll be demonstrating on, enjoy the show~”

•   Throughout it all, Childe is wildly possessive. When you’re with him, it’s expected to have him touching you in some form, and if not then you’re certainly not anywhere with prying eyes. Anyone who he finds getting to close to you will be dealt with personally, a prime opportunity for a good fight as far as Childe is concerned.

His gloves are cold to the touch, something detached in them as he rests a hand on the small of your back while you walk through the streets of Liyue together. You don’t quite register the way it drifts so that it’s resting on your hip while you talk to a local vendor. So engrossed with the products on display, you also don’t notice the chilling stare Childe has on the man explaining his wares. The Harbinger’s now tight lipped, friendly smile remains plastered on his face. As such, the vendor needs no words to tell him to keep conversation professional and minimal.

•   Childe is a fan of flaunting his wealth. Buying you the finest jewels and clothing, adorning you in things he’s bought. Seeing you in those necklaces and fine fabrics satiates him. You might wear the countless things he’s gifted you, but they were, and still technically are his. He owns it all, and so in a way, he owns you.

•   Something that will never change, no matter if you like the man or not, is the endless teasing Childe puts you through. He never stops until you give him a reaction - bashfulness, irritation, just the slight increase in your heart rate that’s evident in how your breathing becomes heavier. He lives for it, nothing more entertaining than the effect he has on you.

Catching your wrist in his gloved hand as you try and push him away, Childe only brings you closer. An arm wraps around your waist, pinning you to his chest. “Ah - I’m not done with you yet,” punctuating the remark with a kiss pressed lightly against your inner wrist.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Lost and Found

Prompt: Hello, you can ignore this but can you write Logince hurt/comfort?

look there's been too much character angst in my notes recently so I'm giving you no-one-is-at-fault-sweet-protective-boys h/c tonight

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: logince can be platonic or romantic i don't care I'm to aroace to parse out which is which

Word Count: 3116

He’d just wanted to find Roman.

Or, Logan gets lost in the Imagination looking for Roman when the weather takes a turn.

He’d just wanted to find Roman.

Logan grits his teeth against the wind as he pushes further into the Imagination. His glasses get knocked askew by a particularly enthusiastic burst of wind and he winces, fixing them before shaking his head at himself.

“This isn’t real,” he mutters, still pushing forward, “this is the Imagination. It isn’t real. Nothing can really hurt me here.”

And Roman would never hurt me.

Logan turns. And turns. And turns. Where did he come from again?

Ah, yes, there’s the broken tree branch he stumbled into when he came into the clearing. That’s where he came from. So, logically, he should turn so that is at his back before continuing. Yes, that’s what he should do.

So he does, turning so that the tree branch is behind him and walking forward. Well, stumbling forward. There’s something wrong with his shoes, he decides as he looks down and sees his legs perfectly intact. Perhaps they are not ideal for slogging through windy forests. Which, alright, he cannot be fully blamed for, he was not intending on going on a quest today—he just wants to find Roman. They have plans today and they’d both been looking forward to them. So he needs to find Roman. Yes, that’s what he needs to do.

…where is Roman, again?

Logan frowns, still trying to hold his glasses in place against the wind that—if he were someone else, he would say it seems determined to strip him of them. But that’s ridiculous. Wind doesn’t have emotions or goals, and this wind isn’t real.

But then would that mean that it could have emotions or goals?

He shakes again and walks forward, narrowly dodging a broken tree branch. He winces as he stumbles into the trunk and narrowly avoids smashing his head into its side. He keeps going. It’s cold. It sends him more off-balance, sends him staggering into another tree. He reaches out to grip the bark and squeezes his eyes shut.

This isn’t real. I’m fine. I just need to find Roman and get out.

His fingers slip on the jagged bark as he pushes himself up. He moves forward.

Something hits his face. He flinches, hand coming up instinctively to block his path when something hits his hand. He flails, trying to swat it away, only for something else to hit his hand. And again. And again. He swipes at his face, trying to figure out what it is, what’s hitting him, only for his hand to come away damp.

Oh. It’s raining.

Indeed, his glasses become speckled with water droplets before he can fully come to this conclusion. His shirt begins to stick to his skin, his tie hangs limply, caught by the buttons. He grits his teeth anew and keeps pushing forward. Just get to Roman, just get to Roman.

…where is Roman?

Logan turns around. And turns. And turns.

He’s in a forest. Dark trees frown over him, the wind gleefully stripping bark and flinging it at him. He throws his arms up to protect his face. Rain stings as it slaps bare skin. It’s cold.

He turns once more and—

Smack!

Logan cries out as he stumbles, landing hard against the roots of a tree sprawled across the forest floor. His pants whine in protest as he collapses. His leg burns. A very quick, very absent-minded assessment says it’s not broken, not sprained, just scraped. But anything more than that would mean moving and the rain seems determined to pin him to the ground. The wind whistles against him, delighting in seeing him there, at the base of the tree, unable to move.

But he has to find Roman.

Roman will know what to do.

Roman won’t hurt him.

“Logan?” The wind starts to sound like Roman’s voice. “Logan? Logan, is that you? Logan!”

His eyes closed against the onslaught of bark, Logan reaches out, baring his arms to the wind, reaching for the voice that sounds too far away.

“Logan! Oh my stars, Logan, you’re hurt, what’re you doing here, come here—“

“R-roman?”

“Yes,” Roman says, and oh, there’s Roman, “I’m right here, my darling nerd, come on, come here, let’s just—let’s get you out of here. What are you doing here, you don’t even have a coat—“

“Thought I didn’t need one,” he slurs, belatedly realizing how warm Roman is, “not real.”

“Oh, Logan,” Roman sighs, fondness bleeding into his tone as he lifts—when did he get his arms around him?— Logan up and begins to walk, “you can’t solve all of your problems with object impermanence.”

“…watch me.”

“Gladly,” comes the murmur as a warm kiss is pressed against his forehead, “but not right now, hmm? Let’s get you warm.”

It takes a few moments of realizing that it’s over, he’s safe, he found Roman, for Logan to put the pieces together that he’s being carried out of Roman’s realm like a child.

“I can walk,” Logan protests, trying to free himself only to be thwarted by Roman’s hold, “you can put me down.”

“I’m sure I could, and I’m sure you can, sweetheart,” Roman murmurs, still walking without trying to put him down, “but you can also let me carry you.”

Logan does not pout, he doesn’t, as Roman walks them out of the Imagination. The wave of warm as they cross the threshold into Roman’s room grants him the immediate knowledge that had he been standing under his own power, the contrast would’ve sent him right back into Roman’s arms.

“Shh,” Roman says quietly when he lets out an unconscious gasp at how cold he must be, “shh, sweetheart, thankfully you’re not hypothermic. Let’s get you in the warm shower, okay?”

“No, wait—after drop, core temperature causes—“

“That’s when you’ve been swimming,” Roman corrects, still carrying Logan as they make it to the bathroom, “not out in the rain.”

“Oh.” Logan blinks. “I—didn’t mean to go swimming.”

Roman chuckles, setting him down carefully on the steps to the bathtub. He reaches up to gently take off Logan’s glasses, drying them on a soft towel and sliding them back on. Logan blinks, trying to orient himself in Roman’s bathroom.

“…has this room always been this…extravagant?”

He’s rewarded with another laugh from Roman as they look around. Really, the last time Logan remembers being in here, it had looked much like Thomas’s bathroom. Shower, mirror, toilet, sink, a few cabinets. But now—

Now he’s sitting on the steps up to a truly massive bathtub, across the room from an equally massive walk-in shower. The vanity looks large enough for him to lie across with room to spare, the two sinks just below enormous mirrors. The toilet looks like—well, a throne.

It’s a miracle of a bathroom.

“Janus helped me make it,” Roman says softly, calling his attention back with a gentle hand under his chin, “it doesn’t stay all the time, but when someone needs to be spoiled, this is what it looks like.”

“Who needs to be spoiled?”

Roman chucks him lightly under the chin. “You, sweetheart, you’re freezing. Come on, let’s get you into the shower. I’ll grab something soft for you to wear afterward.”

Logan nods, attempting to get up to do as Roman bids only to wince. Roman, turning away, immediately crouches back down, hands reaching in concern.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart,” he murmurs, looking him over, “can I help? What can I do?”

“I fell.” Logan stubbornly ignores the flush in his face as he gestures weakly toward his leg. “Tripped on a root, I think it’s scraped.”

Roman winces in sympathy, reaching to hover his hand over where Logan indicates. “Sometimes I swear those trees are trying to trip me.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Logan’s mouth. “It’s not Remus, is it?”

Roman laughs. “No, no, when he wants you on the ground, he doesn’t stop at passively trying to trip you. Trust me.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Roman’s hand lands on the scrape and he sucks in air through his teeth. “There.”

“Mm, I can feel how warm it is. You poor thing…alright. There’s a first aid kit in the left drawer over there—yes, that one, and the stuff in the shower is meant to be gentle. I’d avoid trying to clean it fully, that’s going to hurt, but just enough to make sure there’s nothing in the wound.”

“I understand.”

Roman pats his knee and stands. “I’ll be just outside, take as long as you need. I’ll leave the clothes on the counter, okay?”

Logan tries to look up and winces. The bright lights and the white tile make it difficult to keep his eyes open without his glasses.

“…sweetheart?”

“Can it be—“ Logan waves his hand at the ceiling— “less?”

“Of course, here—give me your hand.” Roman helps him stand, slips his arm around his waist, and guides him to the shower. He presses Logan’s hand against the wall to feel the set of light switches. “There’s one that controls all the lights, one for the overhead, one for the shower light, and one for the fan.”

Logan clicks a couple of times until he can look up again, yellow light spilling into the shower area and only the shower area. “Thank you.”

“Always.” Roman kisses the back of his hand and leaves him be.

Peeling himself out of his damp clothes takes longer than he expected, but his frustration is tempered by the knowledge that he’s here, he found Roman, Roman would never let him be hurt in his own bathroom, and that it’s okay, now.

Everything is okay.

He leaves his clothes laid out on the steps, his glasses set on the counter nearest the shower. The curtain has the same weight as a key in his hand. The warm water beats down over his shoulders, flowing softer over his leg. He can’t see it too well in the soft light, but he can make out the angry red skin and it still feels too hot to the touch. He winces as the water hits the wound, turning so it hits his head first. After a moment, he lies down, the cool tiles beneath him the perfect contrast to the pitter-patter of warm water on his front.

Logan lies there, in the warm light, soft under the water, and remembers how to breathe.

When his chest no longer aches from the cold, he stands, shutting off the water and reaching for the towels. Oh, Roman must have heated towel racks; the towel he wraps himself in is so, so, warm. A noise escapes his mouth as he walks over to the pile of clothes left on the counter. A glance over his shoulder shows Roman must’ve come in while he was drifting. His wet clothes are gone too. He reaches for the dry ones only to wince when the towel rubs against the scrape on his leg.

Right.

He turns on the brighter lights, wincing and trying to see the full scope of the injury. It doesn’t look good; he’s scraped along most of his upper thigh, red and angry and too sore for him to rest his weight on. There’s probably not much he can do. It’s not severe enough to merit a full bandage and smearing any sort of cream over that much surface area just guarantees it’ll get on something he’d rather it didn’t. He sighs and exits the bathroom only to pause.

Oh, Roman’s turned his fairy lights on.

Roman glances up from under the strings of lights hanging around his room, smiling when he sees Logan and holding out his arms. The room is dim, not too dark that he can’t see, but not bright and shining as it normally is. Roman is still in his prince costume, looking every bit like he’s stepped out of a storybook. Logan suddenly feels very underdressed in the pajama shirt and shorts.

“Come here,” Roman calls when Logan hesitates, “let me have a look at you.”

Logan moves, making to sit next to Roman when Roman stops him with a hand on his hip.

“…did you not find the first aid kit?”

Oh. “There’s not much use in it. It’s not bad enough to cover and I—“

Roman moves his hand to touch the scrape and Logan flinches. At Roman’s fond yet disappointed look, something like shame bubbles up in his chest.

“…will you help me?”

“Always,” Roman says, pushing Logan’s hip, “now lie down. I’ll be right back.”

Logan lies down, worrying a little about getting anything on Roman’s bed only for Roman to hush any protests and tuck a pillow under his head.

“Don’t strain your neck. I’ll be right here.”

Logan tries, but as soon as he feels the bed sag behind him and the clunk of the first aid kit opening he tenses.

“Roman.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t—can’t do this. Not like this.” He shakes his head. “I can’t see you. I don’t know where you’re—when you’re going to touch me.”

“Okay.” Roman moves to crouch in front of him. “I still need to be able to see your leg. Can we try something else?”

They end up with Logan resting against Roman’s shoulder, his leg across Roman’s lap. Roman takes one of Logan’s hands and rests it on his arm.

“It’s on the outside of your thigh,” he says, “so I’m going to need you to turn it or I’m going to have to lean over. Either way, I won’t always be looking at you so if you need me to stop at any time, squeeze.”

Roman won’t hurt him. Roman won’t let him be hurt. His hands are gentle as he applies the cream, strong enough to hold Logan’s leg in place without it hurting. When he brushes a raw part of the scrape and Logan hisses, he rubs soothing circles into the skin with his thumb as Logan lets out a breath over a few seconds.

“Good.”

Only when Roman starts making sure the cream is properly rubbed in does Logan realize he’s focusing more on the dry warmth of Roman’s hand than the slight sting of the cream. He’s more focused on the slight furrow of Roman’s brow than the angry red welts on his leg. He’s more focused on the way his leg rests in Roman’s lap, in Roman’s grip, Roman’s arms flexing and relaxing under his hand than the slight strain of keeping his leg turned.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Roman, of course, can feel the moment he tenses, no matter how small, stopping his motions and looking up at Logan’s face. Logan, of course, would rather Roman didn’t look at his face right now and turns away, steadfastly focusing on the wound on his leg and not the way his face heats up under Roman’s focus. But then there are fingers under his chin that turn him back to Roman’s face and that’s not fair. Roman simply raises an eyebrow, wordlessly asking in a way that ensures Logan can’t speak.

Have Roman’s eyes always been that color brown?

He can see the moment realization clicks by the way Roman’s face softens, mouth curling up in the way it does when he’s about to tease Logan for the next hour. Logan flinches only for Roman to cup the side of his face and hold him still.

“Eyes closed now, Specs,” Roman murmurs instead, thumb running over his leg.

“W-what?”

“Close your eyes,” he repeats, “let me put the bandage on and we’ll be done.”

Logan opens his mouth again but Roman raises his eyebrows.

“Closed.”

He hears the gentle pull of the tape, feels Roman’s warm hands tape the gauze in place. Feels one of Roman’s arms hook under his leg, the other around his back, hears the soft thump of the covers as Roman stands, turns, and lays him down properly. He hushes the soft noise of surprise and snaps his fingers, the prince costume turning to pajama under Logan’s hand.

“We had plans,” Logan protests blearily as he feels Roman slide his glasses off his face, “we were going to—to—“

“To what, sweetheart,” comes the murmur next to his ear when he can’t finish his sentence, “what were we going to do?”

He grits his teeth in frustration, much to Roman’s amusement.

“Relax, Specs,” he chuckles, “it’s alright. I’ll be right here when you remember what we were going to do. In the meantime, why don’t you just lie here with me?”

Logan bites back a curse. Damn Roman for being as perceptive as he is, and damn him for knowing it’s working.

“Shh,” as a hand strokes his cheek, “none of that, now, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

“Should’ve known a prince could never resist a damsel in distress,” he bites out, just to have something to say.

“Oh? Is that why you came into the storm with no jacket?” Damn. “So I’d have to come save you? Logan, really, if you wanted my attention, you needn’t resort to such extremes.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says in a way he hopes doesn’t sound as much like a whine as he thinks it does.

Judging by Roman’s chuckle, it’s definitely a whine. “Oh, Logan, you know you always have my attention.”

“Stop teasing.”

“I can’t help it,” he murmurs, “you’re so teaseable.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It is now.” Before he can open his mouth again, there’s a kiss pressed to his cheek and warm arms around him. “Now shush, my dearest nerd, and rest. My damsel’s hurt.”

Through the rapidly growing drowsiness, Logan manages to mutter: “not your damsel.”

“Of course not,” Roman coos, “you’re my Logan.”

“Roman!”

He laughs again, a hand coming up to ruffle his damp hair. “Come here, roll onto your side—yes, that’s it. There. Let me hold you. This way you won’t roll onto the scrape and hurt yourself.”

Roman’s leg wraps through his, drawing him into a gentle pin. Nothing that will work if Logan actually wants to be free—and he knows Roman would let him go the instant he asks. The hand in his hair threatens to lull him right to sleep, but not before he says thank you.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” comes the reply, the other hand scratching lightly between his shoulder blades, “now you just lie there and fall asleep to me.”

Just before he slips under, he hears one last whisper.

“Me too, Logan, me too.”

Logan drifts off in Roman’s arms, safe, warm, found.

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[cherry-lipbalm]

survival of the fittest. spencer reid.

5.3k words.

masterlist

“ If they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them. ”

three hours earlier

Y/N was ready to go home - more than ready. They'd gotten back from a hard hitting case in Boston, touching down by early afternoon meant they were expected back at the HQ, which henceforth meant piles of paperwork were in their future. Y/N knew her complaining would only go reprimanded by Hotch, so she kept to herself in her cubicle, shoved into the corner of the bullpen, and desperate to get the documents out of the way.

Over the scribbling of her pen, she heard the mutterings of Morgan and Reid's conversation beside the latter's desk not too far away from her own. She sighed in defeat, because she knew she wouldn't be able to resist joining them, especially when the opportunity arose to take the mickey at Spencer.

When it did inevitably arise, she pushed herself away from her desk and allowed the wheels on her chair to escort her over to the men. At the sound of jagged rolling, Morgan stepped aside to make space for her to insert herself, a snide smug painted on his face.

"Did I just hear the word 'Spencer' and 'girl' in the same sentence?" She asked, leaning on the armrest to shove her shit-eating grin into Spencer's face; he only rolled his eyes and gave an insincere 'ha ha'.

"Your ears did not deceive you, baby girl," Morgan said, receiving a smack on the arm from Spencer. The warning stare he gave him almost made Y/N stop pestering him. Only almost.

"Oh my! Spill the beans, who is she?" Y/N gushed, steering her chair even closer to the Doctor while Morgan watched on amusedly.

"There isn't a she," he grumbled, head bowed to his paperwork in the hopes that if he ignored the Agents they'd just go away.

"...a he?"

"No!" Spencer exclaimed, snapping his head upwards.

"Hey! It's no skin off my nose, Spence."

He groaned, then turned back to his work and allowed for Morgan and Y/N to exchange a glance as they both tried to hold back snickers at their friend's flustered existence.

She stayed huddled around with them for a few more minutes, but as soon as she saw the clock hit 5, she jumped from her chair and kicked it back to her desk. Announcing that she was off, she began to gather and pack her things. While she did so, she heard Spencer make the same announcement.

"You're off earlier than usual," she called back, "let me guess... Doctor Who marathon?"

Spencer's smile gave him away; Y/N chuckled and draped her coat over her shoulders, standing by his desk while he adjusted his satchel.

"Busy man," she commented, then proceeded to listen to whatever sci-fi related ramble Spencer was emitting, interjecting with exclamations of intrigue or surprise whenever she deemed suitable (they were all timed guesses, but she didn't waver once).

"...Christopher Eccleston is actually the second favourite, despite the fact that a lot of people skip his season, but he has a 52% popularity–"

"Wait, why do people skip his season?"

"Oh, because he preceded David Tennant. He's the favourite, with a 69% popularity."

"Ha, 69," Y/N muttered under her breath with a crude smirk. Spencer only gave a restrained smile and raised his eyebrows. The two fell into a silence, except from a 'thank you' Y/N said softly when Spencer opened the door for her.

The elevator button illuminated under her touch, and they stood in front of the steel doors, awaiting their opening. Y/N tapped her foot senselessly, and Spencer rolled on the balls of his heels.

In amidst the silence, Y/N looked up to Spencer and they exchanged a warm smile. The beep of the elevator distracted them, and after stepping aside to let people out, they ambled in and finally relaxed when the doors closed on them again.

"Today was relentless," Y/N sighed, checking her watch.

"Have any plans?" Spencer asked, out of courtesy.

"Well, I have to head to the repair store to pick up my phone, but after that there's leftover Chinese food in the fridge with my name written all over it," she chuckled.

"What happened? To your phone?"

"Morgan happened," was all she said. Spencer joined in on her judgement even though he didn't know the story, he did know that 'Derek Morgan' was simply a reason in itself that didn't warrant an explanation. Then, they lulled in the return of silence.

It wasn't until the elevator jerked and came to a sudden stop that the two spoke again.

"That's not right," Spencer muttered, and he immediately began to jab at the ground floor button before Y/N smacked his hands away, because she was already deep in a panic, so it was even worse when the next astounding jerk hit. She screamed when they were thrown off balance, and hoped she hadn't got a concussion from where she collided with the back wall upon the motion.

"What the hell?" She panted. They came to a still, but it made her even more nervous because she knew they hadn't been in there long enough to reach their floor. That, and the fact that they had just ripped through the air at about a hundred miles per hour.

Spencer's eyes furrowed, and he licked his lips in the way he did when he was focused on something. Judging by the way he assessed the doors, Y/N thought he was about to pull some thwarted stunt, or more likely reel off some facts about steel.

"I think something's wrong," he mumbled.

"No shit, Sherlock,"

"Ah, elementary my dear Watson," Spencer replied so quickly that Y/N was almost inclined to believe it made any sense.

"Did you know that Sherlock Holmes never actually said that? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle never wrote those words, they were only adapted into the movies years later-"

"Oh my god, Spencer, are we stuck in this elevator?" Y/N shrieked, her knuckles whitening under her tight clutch of the hand rails on the wall: half from fear and the other from frustration.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I think so."

Upon Spencer's bluntness, she stepped forward, desperate for any attempt of an escape plan, she began pressing the ground floor button repeatedly; when that didn't work, she resorted to aimlessly smashing all the buttons on offer. 

"That's– that's really not gonna do anything," Spencer said in the background.

"Do you have a better idea?" She snapped, turning to him with a glare before resuming her actions.

"Try the - try that one!" He pointed to the red button with an alarm bell engraved on it, and Y/N felt stupid under his stare for not noticing it before. She pressed it, and the ringing noise that emitted from it seemed to do nothing but that: ring. She was certain someone was supposed to come to their aid through a speaker, so she pushed it continuously, but derived nothing further. At least she gained some comfort in the panic of Spencer's voice that told her he was shitting himself as much as she was.

"It's not doing anything!" She cried, and when he leaned over her and pressed it too, she bit her tongue and raised her eyebrows to tell him 'see?', infuriated at the fact that he thought she could be somehow pushing a button wrong. But, then again, she'd have been even more angry if he'd done it and it had worked.

When it didn't, she alternated to the next best thing.

"Help!" She yelled, slamming her palms against the doors. She didn't know what floor they'd been wedged at (or even if they were just floating in some space between levels), but someone had to hear them; they were bound to...right?

Spencer seemed to think so at least, because he was joining her in pounding his fists on the steel. Sooner rather than later, the harsh echo made Y/N's ears ring, so she stopped and took a step back.

"Well, this is great," she sighed, slumping in a lean on the wall as she rubbed her temples.

"I'm gonna miss Doctor Who," Spencer whined, pouting.

Y/N just rolled her eyes at him and told him to call somebody. She was sure she'd seen JJ just before they left, still huddled in her office; hopefully she'd be able to call maintenance and they could be released from this death trap of a machine.

"I can't, my phone died. Use yours."

"What?"

"My phone's flat, can you use yours?"

Y/N just stared at him. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt because the adrenaline rush of panic can make memories a bit hazy, but her skin was flustering under the rage she was feeling, her forehead was already beginning to perspire and the walls were so small and entrapping and - is it hot in here or just her?

"My phones at the store," she reminded him through gritted teeth, and watched his composure fall in both comprehension and defeat.

"Great," he remarked.

"Oh, like it's my fault?"

"Well, it's not mine."

"And it's not mine either so don't talk to me like that!"

It was only a short exchange, but it made Y/N's blood boil; if they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them.

Spencer gulped, and Y/N was sure that had he the opportunity to he would be storming away right about now, but unfortunately for the both of them that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. The wonderful reality of this hitting Y/N, she kicked off her shoes and planted her bum down on the floor.

Spencer looked at her curiously while she did this, then quirked his lip and proceeded to do the same. He used his satchel as a pillow to support his head, and sighed loudly (it seemed deliberate just how exaggerative it was).

"No one is ever gonna find us here," Y/N said.

"We're not dying–"

"You don't know that. We could be suffocating as we speak-"

"Suffocation is impossible in elevators: the cars are designed not to be airtight and there's vents that allow air to move in and out," he pointed up at the grated opening above Y/N's head. At being proved wrong by Spencer and his big, unfathomable brain, she crossed her arms much like a stroppy toddler and even pouted her lip.

"We could still die," she mumbled.

"The statistics of that are still very unlikely; in fact, the people that die the most in elevators are elevator technicians themselves. An average of 26 people die in elevators every year in America–"

"And you're ready to be one of those 26?"

"We're not going to be. We won't suffocate, and it hasn't fallen."

"Yet," she said. "Plus, theres other ways to die. Like, I don't know, murder perhaps?" She said with a potent glare in his direction. He gave her a blank stare partnered with a sarcastic smile, one that only made Y/N more devoted to her other-ways-to-die initiative.

"We just have to wait a while... Did you know the longest duration of time someone was stuck in an elevator was 41 hours? Nicholas White. And all he had to eat was a packet of Rolaids."

More than accustomed to tuning out Spencer's rambles, Y/N barely heard what he was talking about, in a dazed trance where she was focused intently on where the paint didn't match the wall, she was so invested she almost missed what he said.

"Wait... oh my god. Do you have food?" She asked, sitting up from her subsided posture.

Spencer's face softened in dread, which didn't bring any aid nor optimism to their situation.

She watched him sit forward, shoving hands into the pockets of his blazer, coat, trousers and pulling out nothing but a few crumpled pieces of paper. Y/N matched him with an empty gum wrapper and a Walmart receipt displaying a concerning amount of pregnancy tests she had purchased last month.

"Do I even wanna know?" Spencer asked, chucking it back to the ground with a grimace as if it was riddled with germs (it probably was but, still).

"All you need to know is that I'm not pregnant," Y/N scoffed, almost amicably, but her eyebrows creased and she was back to a fuck everything this sucks expression in less than a second.

"Well we can't survive on this."

"You really haven't brought any food?" Spencer pestered.

"No, I had Chinese leftovers on the cards for tonight. And I don't see you offering anything up; what's your excuse?"

Spencer only groaned, again. He kicked his feet out and let his head fall onto the wall back in the same place. He ran a hand through his hair, and the scarce gel he had used to keep it in place disassembled around his face in random strays of curls. The sight of him relaxing like he was settling in for the night didn't appease Y/N one bit.

While Spencer closed his eyes, Y/N got to her feet and decided slamming on the door again was a better pastime. Spencer, however, did not agree.

At the banging, Spencer's eyes shot open and his body shook in alarm. His eyes darted around the space frantically until they landed on Y/N's figure aligned with the doors on which she was unleashing hell. If yelling could open an elevator, they'd have been out in a jiffy.

"I think we've established that doesn't help," Spencer said.

"Then you help!" She shouted, continuing the thrashing of metal.

"How?"

"I don't know!" Her shriek echoed, and she yet again gave up on the violence. "Use that big brain of yours and find us a way out of here."

"The 7 steps to surviving being stuck on an elevator are fundamental; we've already done them. They include pressing the open button, the alarm and call button. We still have our light source, otherwise finding one would have been number two. We've tried yelled for help. The only one we haven't done is stayed calm," he said with a heavy emphasis in her direction. Currently, she was the epitome of panic.

Y/N furrowed a brow at him, "That's six. What's number seven?"

She watched Spencer inhale deeply before he told her, "wait it out."

Y/N felt her heart sink. The possibility of her going insane while being confined within this space was only increasing as the minutes passed by. And with that, she felt like oxygen was depleting alongside it. She took a big breath to remind her that there was still air to breathe, and Spencer caught sight of it.

"Are... are you claustrophobic?"

"No!"

His eyes widened at her outburst, and he even raised his hands in defence should the situation present itself, which was looking pretty inevitable.

"I'm not, I just... get a little... panicked, that's all."

"You don't say," he murmured, and —with a grunt— got to his feet again. He treaded towards the damned doors. Y/N thought he was going to bang on them again, and she took front-row seat on the floor to watch the imprudent, futile attempt. Instead, Spencer's long arachnid-like fingers dug into the crevice of the doors and he tried to pry them open. This was an even vainer approach; his strained groans showed such.

"It's no use. We're gonna be here for a while. I can offer you a juice carton," Y/N spoke, making Spencer turn attentively at the word 'juice'. He looked down to where she was rummaging through her bag and depositing a few random objects while she did so. In a very Mary Poppins like fashion, the entities incessantly kept coming and coming, gathering in remarkable piles on the floor. There seemed to be more things than space available, but then they were trapped in an elevator and space was one of the many luxuries the agents realised they had taken for granted. Despite his astonishment at the growing belongings, there seemed to be a concerning lack of food present.

She was, however, holding out an apple juice carton, and Spencer figured that you get what you're given. So while her attention focused to the remnants of whatever was in her bag, Spencer punctured the carton with the straw, and began sucking. He made a squeal of surprise and relief when he saw her pull out a feebly wrapped, half eaten bag of crackers.

"Oh, I forgot about these," she announced, with the first smile Spencer had seen from her since the elevator had broken down.

He leaned down to grab the bag, dusting off the sprayed crumbs and then took a seat to Y/N's left. He left space between them for chivalrous purposes and also to allow space for the bag of crackers to sit.

They made attempts to ration the snack, but it soon developed into an every man for himself situation when Y/N noticed Spencer had started to take two at once.

She wasn't even hungry anymore, but the hunger for beating Spencer at something prevailed and disregarded any logical thought that they ought to save food, so she dove in again for another cracker. Unluckily, she did so at the same time as Spencer, so it made for an awkward encounter when their hands collided but neither was willing to give up their slot in the bag.

Eventually (because they didn't want the other to notice their blush), they gave up when time ran too long and reached a compromise with halving the cracker. Y/N gave Spencer the bigger half of her failed equal snap, but neither of them addressed it.

Neither of them addressed anything actually, for the next... god knows how long they were cooped up in there. They sat in a pleasant silence, free from any awkward glances or trepidations: it was both from the fact that they were in their own heads, and a serendipitous comfort in one another.

"I'm sorry you're going to miss your Doctor Who... thing," was what broke the silence.

"Oh, it's okay. I can just watch it on repeat tomorrow."

"Okay," Y/N laughed softly, and they floated into another quiet.

"I'm sorry you're stuck in an elevator."

"Ha! Me too."

"When we get out of here maybe we can go for Chinese food," Spencer suggested, craning his neck to look at her with a discreet smile.

"Sure," she agreed. "By the time we get out my food at home might have rotten anyway."

And then time after that just... passed. In Spencer's satchel he had an uncanny assortment of reading material to thrive on, and amid her odd collection of pretty much everything she had ever owned, Y/N found an old MP3 player and some earphones (only the left ear worked, but it was as good entertainment as she was going to get).

There comes a point, though, when one person can only listen to so much music from their teen years; Y/N's taste back then was... questionable, to say the least. And her earphone seemed to agree with her, because it gave out just when the unmistakable sound of an NSYNC song began.

"Ugh, just when it was getting good!" She complained, tugging the bud from her ear and throwing it onto the miscellaneous pile.

Spencer's head quirked to Y/N, but his eyes only followed after he had finished a sentence on his page. When he did, he saw her curiously leaning over his shoulder and squinting at the words.

"You can borrow it if you want," he said. "This is my third time reading it and I have others."

He gestured to his pile, which had evolved into a makeshift bookcase in the corner of the elevator. A few pages were torn, and the spines were so worn down that she could barely make out what the titles were. Not from a lack of TLC, but rather copious amounts of it; having been read over and over again. 

"No, it's okay. You continue, I'll just... meditate, or something."

"It's a good book," Spencer said, and he sounded like he was trying to persuade her, so she gave in and nodded. Readjusting her posture, she focused again on where the paint didn't meet the wall as she listened to the one thing she thought she wouldn't ever be able to stand: Spencer Reid's voice.

———

Which, to her and Reid's surprise, she found quite calming. Her hidden envy and not so hidden annoyance with his ability to reel off facts and wisdom like he was only recalling what he had for dinner hindered any fondness Y/N could associate with his voice. Until now, that is.

He was reading Strangers on a Train, supposedly his third favourite book, and they were reaching "the best bit" according to Spencer, but then every bit within the past forty five minutes since he'd started reading had been "the best bit", so Y/N wasn't sure.

But she's pretty calm, as calm as she can be stuck in an elevator, so she's actually thankful she has Spencer of all people beside her. She knew that if Morgan was in his place they'd have attempted murder at least a couple times by now; not to say that Y/N hadn't considered stabbing Spencer at all, but there's only so much damage a blunt pencil at the bottom of her bag could do.

So, she's calm. She's barely following the story because she only joined in halfway through, but she's grasped the basis of it because Spencer reads so eloquently and so well that he's practically painted the vividness of the narrative for her, even though he vouches it's down to Patricia Highsmith's words, which is true, but Spencer has a role in it too.

One thing Spencer recites makes Y/N wonder why she's never had him read to her before.

"People, feelings, everything! Double! Two people in each person. There's also a person exactly the opposite of you, like the unseen part of you, somewhere in the world, and he waits in ambush."

The story portrays an uncanny resemblance to the plots of the abundant crime scenes they analyse daily (Y/N wonders how Spencer comes home from work only to read about the same gory instances): the same mannerisms, behaviours and intricate understanding of criminal attitudes. It's accuracy is so astounding that Y/N asks if the author was ever a profiler of sorts.

Although it's selfish, because Y/N is not the real victim, she wished there was some way Highsmith's words could spring into real life and provide tainted rose coloured spectacles to which she could observe reality through. In some sick way, Y/N needed to see beauty in things like murder. She sometimes forgot that what they were doing had a purpose, and they tended to be the good guys. But there was no writing beautiful enough for Spencer to read and glorify the crimes with.

But even Y/N thinks Spencer's reading could help her see life through more of the silver lining rather than shrouded by the dark cloud that accompanied it.

The moment of rare serenity within Spencer's words is suspended, however, when he suddenly stops with no obvious justification. Y/N wonders if she's missed something profound within the story again so she goes to read over them on the page this time (because she's been rather entranced in Spencer's voice rather than the actual words), except when she looks up she sees a look of horror depicted on Spencer's face: one that doesn't register with her primarily because what's happening in the story is rather quite mundane compared to the dismay on his face. It's so poignant that she thinks something must be fatally wrong.

"What is it?" She asks, sitting up (and away because she thinks he may be about to vomit. But no, the real reason is even more horrific).

"I need to pee."

Y/N gasps; she hadn't even conjectured this predicament. It was a basic human necessity, how had she not anticipated this would happen? At first she thought, hey it's not that bad, better him than me— he can stand. Until she realises that there isn't really anywhere to stand.

"Oh no," she whispers, and he looks at her dauntingly. "You shouldn't have drank that apple juice."

"What was I supposed to do, bathe in it?" He scorns, and the two connect in an unwavering exchange eye contact with one another. Y/N dreads looking away in fear of what he'll do when she has her back turned.

So, like I said, Y/N was pretty calm, and I'd say Spencer was too; reading was a delight, and he found Y/N almost as endearing (almost). Life was bearable until Spencer needed to pee.

And it is here that they throw all peace out the window (if there was one) and give up on step number seven, and instead say hello to their old friend step number five: frantic yelling.

The energy pent up from lazing around reading and being read to is released fairly effectively. Y/N thinks she's never screamed so loud in her life, and Spencer knows he hasn't: entrapment and a full bladder can take one hell of a toll on a man.

And when the profusion of footsteps and the clanging of doors sounds, it is glorious. It is what they imagine heaven to sound like and more. Y/N collapses to the ground in relief, and Spencer throws his hands up in a prayer of thanks (even though he doesn't necessarily believe, but he is just so high on adrenaline and the discomfort of needing a wee that he'd just about believe anything now if it meant he could get to a bathroom).

"You guys okay in there?" A voice calls in from above them (Spencer genuinely thinks it's God) and Y/N has never been more happy to hear Derek Morgan.

"We're good! We're good! Oh my god, get us out of here please!"

"Right on it, baby. Bet y'all thought you were gonna die in there, huh?"

"Worse," Y/N called, "I thought I was gonna have to see Spencer's dick!"

Morgan laughed (music to their ears: any voice that wasn't each other's fit that criteria in that moment), and then told her he didn't want to know. Spencer and Y/N heard him holler behind him, and even more footsteps approached. Y/N couldn't see much from the slither between the doors that had just been pried open, since they had fallen a considerable distance from their floor. What she could see was only half of Morgan's face while he knelt on the ground.

"What happened?" Spencer asked, trying to gain some understanding for the reason behind missing his Doctor Who marathon.

"Power cut. The whole city's in blackout."

"You're kidding," Y/N replied, then turned. "A whole lotta people just risked that 1 in 26."

"Us included," Spencer said.

They recognised the voices of the maintenance team, and even a few uniforms of firefighters that worked on opening the doors with as much force as they could muster. Y/N looked again to the wall and paint mismatch, finding it too unsettling to look at their rescue attempt (that had way too much potential to go wrong) and even more unsettling to look at Spencer who was practically cradling his crotch.

"Ladies first!" A fireman called, and his hand reached into the space they had managed to (barely) increase, hoping that it wouldn't prove to be too difficult. From what Morgan told them, Spencer wouldn't have any trouble getting through it if they had halved the space ("the kid's a sherbet stick, I'm telling you").

"No, we've got a man here who's about to explode," Y/N joked, forgetting that the word 'explode' is a term one should use lightly within the headquarters of the FBI. She was blissfully reminded of this when the few surrounding agents brandished their guns. They almost didn't let them out until Spencer yelled that if he didn't get to a bathroom that instant he would give them a real reason to get their guns out.

So he was lifted out first, falling into Morgan's arms the chance he got to. He, somehow, managed to wait until he saw Y/N definitely leave the elevator before racing off down the hallway. Maintenance didn't even bother telling him that the doors have been locked because officially work finished three hours ago; they figured he had enough vigour in him to knock a wall down, never mind a door.

"Are you alright?" Morgan asked Y/N, lifting her up onto her own to feet. She's given a shock blanket, which is a pretty cool souvenir.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Miraculously. I don't know how you survived in there with him; I'd go insane."

"Eh," she chuckled, "he's not too bad."

———

After gathering their belongings, Y/N and Spencer make their way to leave work, again.

Morgan's nonchalant explanation of the blackout is in no way accurate to the genuine portrayal of, what Y/N can only describe as, a thriller movie come to life. She's looking out the wide scale windows in the bullpen room and can only see her reflection. It's creepy. Skittishly, she jumps when Spencer's image shows up behind her own. 

"Jesus, haven't I had enough near death experiences tonight?" She asks, holding a hand over her heart that she's sure just kickstarted (for various reasons).

"Sorry," he laughs. Placing his hands in his pockets, Y/N can sense he's more relaxed now that he's peed and no longer trapped within the restrictions of one metre.

They smile, then look out again to the darkened abyss before them. Y/N has never seen the city so quiet, yet she knows it's anything but. Once she steps outside it's bound to be hectic central.

"You normally get the subway, what are you gonna do?"

"Oh, I guess I'll just walk," Spencer shrugs.

"Absolutely not. I'll drive you home."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that—"

"Spence, I just spent the last three hours in a confined space with you, I'm sure I can do twenty minutes more," she said. "Get your stuff ready, we can head off now."

She swung her bag over her shoulder and turned to walk out the bullpen, her heels reverberating throughout the room. Spencer watched her stride out by her reflection in the window, as to not be caught staring.

"If my car breaks down I'm gonna commit murder!"

Spencer laughed loudly, which made Y/N smile as she passed the kitchenette. When he continued to chuckle to himself he realised he wouldn't mind another three more hours stuck with her— at least he'd have an excuse if the car broke down. Maybe if he set off now he could get there in time to beat Y/N to her car and slash the tyres. He kindly reminded himself that that's illegal while he retrieved his satchel off the back of his chair and strutted out the office.

He wasn't too far behind Y/N when he suggested getting a Chinese on the way back.

"Is that a date?"

"If eating a Chinese takeaway in your car is your idea of a date," he sang.

"It very much is," Y/N grinned irrefutably.

He held the door open for her, she said thank you, and their giddy (dare I say lovesick) smiles dropped when they faced the elevator.

They've taken the stairs every day since.

fin.

[immortalcoelacanth]

Between the Walls, Chapter 1: Roommates (Dream SMP fic)

I've noticed there's an unfortunate lack in Borrower AU content, and as that shit is my jam I'm putting forth the content I wish to see into the fandom XD

To quote my friend, "I do not control the hyperfixation"

Word count: 4497

Summary: At first retirement had sounded like an excellent idea. Make a house far away from everyone else, get some peace and quiet, no longer concern himself with the total garbage that was the local government. Nice things, relaxing things.… 

But then the scratching in the walls started happening.

Techno groaned as he flopped backwards into his chair, tired eyes staring into the glowing fireplace as he relaxed after his busy day. A day full of building, repairing the damage dealt by the creeper population, and…

A day spent trying to find any signs of his thief.

You see, Techno had assumed that retirement would be an excellent way to unwind from the massive amount of blood that had been shed after L’Manberg went up in smoke, as well as the aggravation he felt towards his sweet, innocent cows being slaughtered and his bunker being raided.

Raided and dismantled thanks to Phil stealing his bookshelves and in turn chunks of the wall.

It was scuffed, horribly scuffed, and left him with one option.

Relocation.

That, combined with the wanted posters Quackity had hung up demanding his capture and subsequent execution after what he had done. Honestly, talk about the biggest character arc for Quackity, going from fearing him to taking an active role in trying to end his life.

Too bad for him that Technoblade never dies.

But still, having to constantly deal with being attacked while no longer having a truly safe and secure base was troublesome, so he had sought out to make a new home far from L’Manberg and all other communities.

The isolation did not scare him, on the contrary he liked having a space all to his own with no worries about socialization or someone bothering him. Besides, Phil could always visit him if he wanted some company.

Fortunately, constructing his new home had taken relatively little time once he had found the best spot for it, and with some help from Phil, moving all the important resources and equally important fixtures of his home had taken even less time.

All in all, Techno had managed to acquire a new sanctuary away from all the plotting and scheming, although he had a feeling someone would try to mess with him at some point, and he had plenty of space to make a brand new vault. He had achieved peace and quiet, and was even in the process of planning on making a turtle farm. Surely all these positive developments would mean he was happy, right?

Well, he would be if it weren’t for the fact that there was a thief rummaging through his home.

It started with small things, like his chests becoming less and less organized over time. Yes, there were moments where he simply chucked whatever useless items were in his inventory into the nearest empty chest, but he would never clutter up chests containing important items, like potions and enchanted books.

So, finding several misplaced items as well as random blocks of dirt and stone, practically pebbles given their size, while also finding certain resources such as wood and leather missing was the first sign of something strange going on.

The next was the odd noises that seemed to come from the walls of his home. Faint scratches that would be inaudible to anyone but himself due to his heightened hearing. It reminded of a rat infestation, and he unconsciously shuddered.

Not due to fear or discomfort, but the sheer amount of work it would take to get rid of a pest infestation. At that point he might as well take his house apart and build elsewhere.

However, despite his suspicions and hypothesis, there was practically no evidence to support. There were, thankfully, no signs of rat activity, or activity from any other pests. No scratches, bite marks, signs of wood decaying, or anything like that. Other than the noise and the strangely messy organization of his chests, there was no sign of the thief.

And he had looked.

Intensely, as best he could. Logic and inductive reasoning had led him to this conclusion. There was a thief, so there had to be signs of this thief somewhere. A lack of footprints meant they must use pearls to get around. The fact that his rarer resources had not been stolen, his potions of strength and enchanted books, meant that his thief was either unconcerned with stealing things of value from him and just wanted to mess with him, or they were a cocky idiot.

… So it was either Ranboo or-

His ears perked up, cutting off his train of thought as he glanced over at the nearby wall. His eyes narrowed and he pushed himself up and out of his chair before striding over to the wall, cape swishing about behind him.

He pressed the side of his head against the wall, eyes closing as he tried to focus on where the sound was coming from. It was here! It had to be! There was something hidden in this very wall. The source of his annoyance, his thief.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Techno readied his axe, and swung it down-

                                                   xxxxxxxxxx

There are times where Tommy can’t stop himself from looking in the nearest reflective surface and asking how he managed to fuck things up this bad. It was painful to recall the steps that had led him to this outcome, the signs obvious but he had been too stupid and ignorant to pay them any mind.

Causing trouble was in his blood, something the local borrower community had reluctantly accepted over the years, helped by how eager he was to throw himself into dangerous situations. Something that should have been concerning to the adults who watched them, taught them how to borrow, how to gather items and even hunt in order to survive, but he had learned that lesson at a very, very young age.

The lesson that no one would step in to help him if he was in danger. That he was on his own and had to prove his worth in order to stay, constantly putting his life on the line for the slightest crumb of respect.

To hear someone say that he had done a good job, to be thanked for his hard work instead of always being brushed off and ignored.

Of course, his friendship with Tubbo helped to soothe that constant within him, dulling the sting of rejection while reminding him that there was one person who truly cared about him. One person who would always be there for him, would lift him up when he was down, and jump into any situation to protect him.

Orphans had to stick together, after all.

And it was a good thing they did end up working together as the duo balanced each other out perfectly. Tommy was far more outgoing and blunt, hotheaded being the best word to describe him. He was willing to do whatever he needed, always ready to speak up when he thought there was bullshit going on, and spoke his mind freely.

It was an ironic honesty, a trait that one assumed would help to attract friends but only aided in driving them away.

Meanwhile, Tubbo was much softer in some ways. Much more reserved than Tommy, he was more of a thinker and planner. Nowhere near as comfortable with spontaneous action as his friend, but he had the knowledge and skills to reign in those impulsive actions before things got dangerous.

They were the best of friends, pals to the very end.

Even though they would never see each other again.

And it was all his fault.

Tommy had ruined everything.

The plan had been simple, easy. All he wanted to do was mess up Mrs. Brigsburry’s house. Just a tiny touch of crime and freaking the old bat out.

She deserved so much worse because of that day. The pot that had been thrown at Tubbo and how much blood Tommy had seen running down the side of his face. The bitch’s shrieks and curses as she insulted them over and over again.

Swearing they both should have died with their parents-

How was he supposed to know he accidentally left one of her rags near the lit stove, the fire within causing the piece of fabric to ignite and in turn allowing the flames to spread to the rest of the house.

It was a good thing she lived on the edge of Borrowton, the fires thankfully only burning her home to the ground.

No one wanted to live near an asshole like her.

Tommy, who had been feeling proud of himself, quickly experienced true regret and fear once the meeting started. Shouts, demands, and insults had flown through the air, many of the people he had grown up with insisting that he be tossed out for what he had done, exiled from the only home he had ever known.

It had been terrifying to see how quickly everyone had turned against him, how they refused to give him the chance to defend himself or even explain why he had done what he did. Not even Tubbo had been able to protect him from the crowd’s wrath, his attempts at standing in front of Tommy and blocking him from sight thwarted when one of the adults grabbed his arm and dragged him elsewhere.

He would never be able to forget the haunting sight of Tubbo reaching for him, tears pouring from his eyes as he screamed his name over and over. It was the last time he had seen his friend, too.

And yet, this was not the worst part of his punishment.

He had been given an hour, one measly hour, to pack up everything he had ever owned before being forcefully exiled from Borrowton. The realization of what was happening had slammed into him all at once, leaving Tommy trembling and unable to move.

He was going to lose everything he had ever known, everything he had worked so hard to build, Tubbo-

He was going to lose his Tubbo.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

No amount of begging or pleading had stopped the adults who dragged him to his shoddy, shared home. He had groveled on his hands and knees, promising to change, to do better, to do whatever they wanted if they just let him stay.

Don’t take my Tubbo away. Don’t take him away. I need him, I need him-

Smack!

The harsh sting of his cheek and the painful sensation of his neck snapping back from the force of the slap was enough to snap Tommy out of his trance. He blinked and looked around, feeling all the more disconnected from reality as he noticed the two bags that had been placed beside him.

One for food, and one for clothes and tools.

… He was really getting exiled, wasn’t he?

“You have no one to blame but yourself for this.” The adult beside him grumbled, dragging the stunned teen up to his feet and shoving him towards the door.

“Front gate. Now. And if I find you causing more trouble, you’ll be leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back.” The man sneered.

For a moment that spark of anger rose up in him, rage flowing through his veins and making his fists clench while he ground his teeth together. The urge to lash out, both physically and verbally, was strong, and yet…

As quickly as those feelings emerged, they faded, and Tommy was left feeling hollow and drained. What was the point in fighting back if all he did was get himself into more trouble. It was obvious they weren’t going to change their minds, he would be exiled no matter what, and if he did lash out-

Tubbo screaming his name as he was dragged away, snot and tears flowing down his face. Thrashing and struggling in a futile attempt to reach him.

… The risk, the damage he could do to his friend, was far greater than the satisfaction of breaking the man’s knobby nose. So, with extreme reluctance, Tommy left the house and made his way towards the front gate. The streets were surprisingly empty, he had expected to see a mob of people cheering while watching him leave, maybe even get the occasional bit of dirt thrown his way.

Treated like the trash they thought he was.

His send off lacked all formality. Only the usual guards of the gate were present, and even then they paid him no mind. He was simply shoved towards another borrower, a lady this time who, based on the immense amount of foliage covering her clothes, spent most of her life out in the wild.

God, how would he ever survive out there. Between the wild animals, the shitty weather, and the mobs that would wander the lands when darkness fell, he was doomed.

He had only ever known how to survive in his community, where you could barter for goods and depend on someone to help you. Now he wouldn’t have any of that. There would be no shelter, no safety in numbers-

No Tubbo.

Numb, Tommy was shoved towards the woman and quietly took note of the presence of the animal he could not see before. It was a fox, quite large compared to him and the other borrowers, and domesticated since it wasn’t ripping anyone apart.

… Or maybe it was just waiting until he got outside, then it would rip him to shreds. Wouldn’t want any blood splatters staining the inside of the gate.

He was so absolutely, royally fucked.

“C’mon, we gotta get moving.” The woman barked, grabbing his arm and pushing him towards the fox with little care for his comfort and the fact that she was adding more bruises to his arm. Tommy hissed in pain and rubbed the aching spot while glaring at her.

Everyone in this place was a fucking asshole.

“Alright, alright, chill the fuck out. I’m moving.” Tommy grumbled as, after a moment of hesitance, buried his hands in the animal’s warm fur and climbed up its side. A moment later, the woman jumped up to join him, taking a seat near the fox’s shoulders while Tommy struggled to pull his bags up as well.

Finally, once his meager supplies had joined him, it was time for them to set off. He had nearly been thrown off as the fox stood up, and when the animal sprinted out of the hidden tunnel and into the fading sunlight-

Well, it was a good thing he managed to grab hold of his bags before they were knocked off. He shuddered in the sudden, stinging breeze, and did his best to hunker down into the warm fur below him. He had no idea where they were going, no clue what far away biome he would be abandoned in, and quietly decided to not think about it further. The last thing he wanted to do was to start crying.

… Even if he had been ever since they first left the front gate.

He quickly rubbed at his face, trying to dry the lingering tears so there were less signs as to his degenerating mental state, and instead decided that it would be best to strike up a conversation, something that would help to distract him from what was going on.

Tubbo, Tubbo. He missed Tubbo. He wanted to see Tubbo again-

“Name’s Tommy!” He called out. “What’s yours?”

Silence was his answer.

“... Well fuck you too then.”

Much like the start of their journey, the rest of the trip was silent as the fox ran through various biomes, fields, and forests. On multiple occasions they stopped, the woman gathering some sort of herb every single time.

… Perhaps she was making drugs.

Tommy snorted to himself at the joke, mood lifting just the slightest bit before plummeting back to bedrock. God, he was tired. His body ached from sitting still for so long, as well as the general discomfort from the fox nimbly jumping from cliff to cliff, ducking around trees, and just being an agile shitbag. It was annoying and he hated it.

… Hated the fact that he was getting further and further away from his friend. Hated the fact that the fox could cover far more distance than he could ever hope of traversing on his own, and that the odds of him managing to reunite with Tubbo at some point were growing slimmer with every block they crossed.

Eventually they reached the coldest biome Tommy had experienced yet, ponds covered by ice and snow layering the ground. The snow seemed to muffle their surroundings, the only sounds coming from the snow crunching under the fox’s paws and the animal’s panting as it started to feel the strain of their journey.

And yet, for as desolate as this tundra seemed to be, Tommy spotted something in the distance. A structure that was definitely man made and appeared to be well taken care of, which meant there was someone living there.

Someone he could mooch off of and boost his chance at surviving his exile.

It had been a stroke of pure luck that he had managed to convince the borrower escorting him to change their route, practically begging her to take him to the lit house that was just barely visible through the snow.

The sounds of Tommy sniffling and sobbing since the start of their journey had probably helped to wear down her resolve to take him to wherever he was originally supposed to go.

In the end, she had agreed and directed the fox towards the house. It was interesting to see her previous confidence of navigating the cold tundra diminish the closer they got to their destination, as though she was unsettled by the house.

Strange, but then again she probably thought the same of him and how much of an idiot he was for getting kicked out of somewhere perfectly safe.

Safe aside from the prying eyes, the cruel words and harsh hands. His salvation was Tubbo and their whispered promises. They would leave one day, set out into the world and make their own home.

The moment they arrived at their destination, the woman wasted no time in metaphorically, and literally, kicking him off the fox. He dropped into the freezing snow, landing face first, and pushing himself up seconds later to cough out the chilly substance that had invaded his mouth.

The memory of Tubbo laughing as his snowball hit Tommy in the face, the other teen turning to the side and yelling about how “cold as shit” it was.

“Maybe you should try keeping your mouth shut for once.” Tubbo teased as Tommy, snow still stuck to parts of his face, flipped him off.

“Fuck you.”

Tubbo’s laughter rang out around them, and the teen kept laughing until his face was red and tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

… Damn, it was cold.

Trembling, he stood up just in time to dodge the bags that had been carelessly thrown his way, getting a concussion from one of his tools would definitely be a death sentence in this situation, and he promptly flipped the woman off.

“Oi! Watch where you’re throwing that shit!” He shouted before crouching down to inspect his supplies, quietly relieved that nothing seemed to have been damaged. “Fucking bitch...”

She just rolled her eyes in response to his insults and looked unimpressed as he grumbled, huffed, and got himself organized. No words were exchanged between the duo, no goodbyes or wishes for good luck, just the howling of the winds while the borrower made his way to his new home.

As Tommy had trudged through the too tall snow, he had been oblivious to the way the woman stared at the house, eyes wide with some sort of emotion. Was it fear? Not quite, it was more a combination of dread mixed with reverence, emotions fueled by her knowledge of the being who resided in this place. A whispered phrase floated through the air, much too quiet for him to have heard. It was a simple sentence that made her stance and understanding of the situation clear.

“Blood for the Blood God.”

Then she fled, leaving Tommy alone to deal with whatever fate he had stumbled into by breaking into the house.

And what a house it was.

All pretty and neatly designed, complete with various floors and tons of storage, and even some decorative flowers outside the windows, which meant Tommy had many things to rummage through. The roaring fireplace was an added bonus since the cold was one of the things he had been the most worried about.

Knowing those assholes, they had probably planned to abandon him somewhere in the tundra, leaving him alone and freezing in the cold…

Honestly, all things considered, this was a good place to settle down in. He had basically everything he needed, as well as access to some rarer resources too. It was ideal, practically perfect given how easy it would be to create small, unnoticeable entrances into each chest for him to use to snag items, but there was one downside to his new home.

His roommate.

He was tall, far taller than anyone Tommy had ever seen before, and he looked… weird. Like one of those pig monsters he had heard stories about back in Borrowton. Monsters from hell that craved gold and bloodshed. With his pig-like features, including a set of tusks that poked up from his lower jaw, he was a perfect match for those nightmarish beasts.

… But, they weren’t in hell, and this man seemed to be far less gold and bloodshed obsessed than the stories had said, even with the various scars the borrower had seen littering his body.

It was weird, he was weird, and the weirdness had only increased the more time Tommy spent in the house. Despite his regal attire, consisting of a flowing cape and golden crown, it was obvious that the pig-man was no prince or nobility. Plus there were those shitty reading glasses Tommy had seen him wearing once, stuck together with taping and looking like they were on the verge of breaking again. He was the strangest combination of loud-yet-awkward behaviour, something that the borrower actually related to quite a bit. His roommate was not “normal” and acted how he wanted, whenever he wanted, with little regard to how “improper”, “violent”, or “rude” he was.

Like Tommy…

He found it comforting to know that there was someone else more like him out there, someone else who was unlike everyone in Borrowton, someone else who would know what it felt like to be treated as an outcast, like he did not belong there or anywhere. Stuck in this new place, he did not feel as alone as he originally expected.  

He did not consider the possible problems this could cause in the future, of course. Tommy had never the best at planning ahead since that had been Tubbo’s specialty-  

But, the positives ended there as he realized that trying to survive in this relatively small, isolated house was going to be far more of a challenge then he had originally anticipated, with his roommate presenting the greatest obstacle to his success. Breaking in had been easy, actually situating himself and building a decent base within the walls of the house was downright impossible in these circumstances. At most he had managed to dig out a shitty hole close to the fireplace where he stashed all his stolen goods.

And even if he wanted to leave, it was impossible thanks to all the snow and how bloody cold this damn biome was!

So, here Tommy was, having essentially trapped himself with some creepy pig guy who owned too many weapons for comfort and was decked out like he was about to fight the whole damn world. Sure, his house was pretty nice, there was tons of food for him to steal and snack on, and the resources were plenty, but he would have rather had anyone else as a roommate in this situation.  

At least this guy was in retirement, or whatever that meant.

He let out an annoyed sigh, arms dropping as he allowed his axe to rest against the wooden floor of the passage he had been carving out. While most of the house was made out of concrete, Tommy had focused on carving passages through the wooden supports in order to have a network of tunnels he could easily move around in without being spotted. All in all, it was a good plan, even if it was a massive pain in the ass to make.

It was like every time he started making a tunnel, no matter what time of the day it was, that piggy dipshit would show up and start stalking the walls, looking for him!

… Granted, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to make boar-face all suspicious by messing with his chests, but Tommy needed the resources! And it was pretty funny hearing the surprised sounds the man would make echo through the house.

His trouble making nature might have been the cause for his exile, along with some other bullshit, but that did not mean he would try to suppress it, even if it would be better for him in the long run. That was like asking to stop breathing. It was just a part of him that could only be controlled and never truly stopped.

… He missed Tubbo. He missed him so much and the ache in his chest still had not faded, and he felt all hollow and empty, without purpose-

Unfortunately for the borrower, the world refused to give him a break as he spiraled, his negative emotions distracting him and preventing him from paying attention to his surroundings.

Like the footsteps that were slowly getting closer to his location.

Without warning, the wall beside him cracked and split open, and Tommy let out a terrified shriek. He jumped backwards, dropping his axe in the process as light spilled into the carved out passage.

The now exposed passage.

A passage that had been cracked open by a certain pig man who had clearly been awake instead of asleep like he had assumed. Brilliant red eyes met terrified blue, and Tommy swallowed nervously.

Of course, of fucking course! As if the world didn’t hate him enough as is! Now he had to deal with that pig shithead who’d been tormenting him for days with his stupidly good hearing, preventing him from making any progress in creating his new home.

And of course the second he tried to make a tunnel this bastard just had to appear and ruin everything!

On the plus side, he had not actually done anything yet, although Tommy was certain things would turn south soon based on the axe the man was holding. So, he would live for now, and his shocked state allowed the borrower to make the first move.

“How do,” Tommy greeted, tilting his head to the side and smirking. “You ugly motherfucker.”

If he was going down, he would go down swinging.

                                      xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Technoblade, holding up a cup containing Tommy: So I found this, anyone wanna trade a book of mending for him- Tommy: *feral screaming intensifies*

[sweetestlamb]

Touch My Heart

Summary: The heart wants what it wants. 

Author’s note: I tried really hard to accept the ending of Mr. Queen and I was able to find enjoyment in watching the characters that I had grown to love but after deep consideration, I can’t truly accept what happened to Bong Hwan, it’s just too cruel despite knowing how homosexuality is viewed in Korea. If that was the plan he should have never been made to fall in love with the King and they should have merely been friends working together for the greater good. no romance if it was going to be thrown away in minutes. If they wanted to include hot make out scenes then make it known that Soyong is taking control of her body and this is not what BH wants, but he’s taking the backseat in those moments. Let it be known that they are both in there but the romantic feelings are solely from SY. Don’t let BH wrestle with his sexuality and accept that he loves the King only to leave him with nothing back in his world, he grew from the experience but at the cost of what? His sanity. Anyway, yes I changed my mind. I The couple I fell in love watching was BH and Cheoljongie and that’s probably the only couple, I’ll write about. Maybe when I see more of SY in the spin off I’ll grow fond of her, but to me Cheoljong’s heart belongs to BH and just because SY loves him doesn’t mean she deserves him, the same way Byeong-In didn’t deserve her. 

A month goes by, the most splendid month she's ever spent in the palace. Walking around the castle grounds, there are always jubilant faces; servants greeting her with wide grins instead of the fear she used to evoke, she smiles back now instead of trying to thwart their happiness. It feels like someone has lit a torch in her once pitch black life, what she thought was a pointless existence now suddenly has a meaning and purpose. 

And it's all thanks to him, this mysterious man from the future. Jang Bong Hwan. When she jumped into that lake she had expected death, and nothing more. She didn’t have a plan, she just didn’t want to suffer anymore. Everywhere she turned there were locked doors and there was no way out.  Suicide was a sin but she would gladly accept her punishment, living her life was worst than any hell she could imagine. 

But rather than death she was locked in the deep crevice of her mind.

Seeing and hearing all but unable to say or do anything, a vegetable in her own body. But fright melted away to admiration, this strange man was brave beyond belief; standing up to those who had made her existence a living hell. Despite all the step backs and their many attempts at his life, their life he hadn’t given up finding new ways to fight back every time. Without even trying he had accomplished her one desire in life-to be the owner of the King's heart. She watched in awe as the icy barricade erected around his heart became to thaw, no match for the fiery force of the time traveler.

She watched as they fell in love and although it was her body, they were his feelings. Feelings that had taken time and effort to grow, it was torture to not be the one experiencing that. Then like a gift from the heavens she was back, restored to her rightful place. When she'd awoken to the King's tearful eyes, his mouth wide and twisted in pain she knew she would do anything to make him happy. This was her second chance and she wouldn't waste it.

Everything had changed while she'd been away. Everyone had changed.

Court Lady Choi and Hong Yeon looked at her at times, curious eyes unblinking. As if they were waiting for something, but she didn't know what. She was behaving as the perfect queen, listening the Court Lady's every complaint without agitation, they should have been happy but instead they kept looking confused and longing like there was something that wasn’t quite right. She futilely tried to convince herself it was simply her imagination.

However, it was not solely them. The King was the worst, they shared a bed every night and in the beginning she'd been elated at this occurrence. Until about a week ago, when he'd asked her a question she couldn't answer.

"My Queen, there is another word from your dictionary I need help understanding. What is the meaning of this?" He crawled closer to her, shifting the silk bedding beneath them. Once she got over the pleasure of having him so close, fear set in. 

His finger was underneath a word, she'd never seen before in her life.

Fraud.

She tried to sound it out mentally, taking his syllable separately but it still sounded foreign and she watched his anticipation dissipate as he awaited her reply. He continued to stare intensely at her, his brows furrowing as the seconds dragged by.

"My Queen?" The tone of his voice unsettled her, he looked desperate for a reply and dread settled in her stomach. She wasn't who he thought she was and the look on his eyes made it evident, knowing the truth would irreversibly change their relationship.

So she did something unthinkable.

Clutching at her stomach, she feigned pain watching him push the book aside to grab her, wrapping her in his embrace as he rubbed her back. Whispering soothing sounds into her hair.  She pressed her face into his neck, miserably. This was the life she'd yearned for, why were things still not as they should be?

She'd fallen asleep, too shamed to allow him to hold her that night. He hadn't tried to change her mind, rolling over and turning his back to her. It felt like they had moved back to step one. 

She'd kept her distance following that incident, needing a moment to process her thoughts without her love for him clouding her mind. He hadn't tried to visit her either, instead sending letters to check on her and their unborn child. She felt the wall being built and she didn't know what to do to stop its insurrection.

Sneaking away without her court ladies noticing she went for a late night stroll, hoping to clear her thoughts of the King, Her luck must have been running out because instead she stumbled onto a conversation that was not meant for her ears. 

Her intention hadn't been to eavesdrop but she couldn't walk away, it piqued her interest too much.

"The King seems different these days, wouldn't you agree?" The usual jovial voice of Special Director Hong was serious as he asked the question, using a cloth to clean a long gleaming gun as he stared up at the King's brother.

The prince stopped sharpening his sword for a moment to consider the question, after a long pause he nodded in agreement.

"Yes. He seems troubled and he has not been visiting her highness. Each day he sighs while holding a strange book. He seems lost.".

"What do you think could be bothering him? He has everything he's ever dreamed of. The kingdom is doing better than ever and he's expecting a child. This should be the happiest moment of his life."

The Prince sighs shrugging before replying in a hushed voice, "I've not seen him like this since he learned that Hwa Jin was not the one from the well. He acted this way then too."

It feels like a dagger through her chest, stumbling back she rushes back to Daejojeon hall with her heart in shambles. What am I doing? She feels nauseous at the comparison, she was fooling the King and she doesn’t know how much longer she can continue this farce. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

To say the Queen is acting strange is an understatement, she is acting like someone completely different. He waited for her to drop the honorifics, thinking she was teasing him and this was meant to be a joke but she didn’t, instead she she began acting like a proper Queen and easily following the suggestions of her Court Lady to both of their dismay. What was wrong with her? Had she hit her head and forgotten that she was meant to be a loveable headache and not a soothing summer breeze? 

She's still the same beautiful woman, looking at her evokes the same lust and admiration but speaking to her confuses him; in that she no longer uses words he cannot understand and her behavior is that of a trained Queen. He’s confused but her lack of confusion. She's being extremely consistent and he's never been more perplexed and thrown off kilter in his life.

He finds himself yearning for something he cannot name. Looking at her in the hopes he'll find what he's looking for and instead of a mischievous grin or an arrogant smirk, he's always greeted with the same serene smile. It's pretty but it's not the smile he's grown to love these past few months. It reminds him of the Soyong he'd met during that rain shower, someone he didn't know but found appealing.

They haven't slept together, despite sharing a bed. All of his advances have gone unnoticed, where as before it simply took them being in the same room to ignite a flame in both of their loins. Once he'd followed the Queen into a pantry, hearing her grumbling about nosy head chefs but once she noticed his presence, it only took seconds before they were ripping at each other's clothing. They'd been missing each other all week and he was practically starved for her. It was clear the feeling was exceptionally mutual.  He'd taken her against the wall, hard with her egging him on and whispering pure filth in his ears.

"Fuck! Yes right there, don't be gentle. Fuck me until I can't walk, come on harder!"

He had no idea what that word she said meant, fuck but he was powerless against her commands flipping her around to pound into her from behind, a position that she had taught him. She  wailed rocking back shamelessly  to meet his harsh thrusts, the sound of her nails scratching the wall making his skin hot. Skrrrrrrrr. They slammed into each other until his legs were tense from the position and she wordlessly took over, separating them with a loud wet squelch before pushing him to the ground and riding him like a wild stallion. He had watched helpless as she bounced on top, her breasts jumping freely as she shoved him deep inside of her tight grip. When they were finished, he was dazed and breathless. She'd looked at him with barely opened eyes, slowly licking her lips looking like sin personified before patting his cheek.

"I needed that. Thanks for screwing my brains out." She barked slipping off his softening cock, he watched mesmerized as his spent dripped from her precious place. 

More words he didn't fully comprehend but her satisfaction was obvious and that was all he needed. He'd preened under her, feeling himself swell again at her words.

She raised one eyebrow at the sudden press of hard skin in her thigh.

"Come visit me tonight. We need to make up for lost time."

They had made love until his cock couldn't get hard anymore and she'd collapsed next to him, splayed with her breasts bitten red and his seed leaking from her well used hole.

Something had changed but he couldn't place what it was exactly. He tried brushing it off but it gnawed at him until he couldn't hold it in and he'd broken down and asked her about the Queen's dictionary. He'd purposely chosen the word knowing exactly what it was. His Queen had used it several times to describe the corrupt members of the royal court. They'd all been frauds, living a lie wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

He thought that would put his mind at ease but instead it had been the opposite; her hesitation solidified his fear, there was something afoot and he had to know what it was.

He sighs stroking at the book, he always keeps by his side.

"What am I missing?"

Before he can get too lost in his thoughts the head eunuch enters the room, bowing all the way.

"Your majesty, the Queen has come to visit you."

He looks up at the announcement, his usual excitement doused by his doubts but his heart does lurch at her arrival. His Queen did not care about propriety, coming to this chambers at such an indecent hour was a great sign. That was more like the Queen he'd grown to love. Maybe he had been overthinking and there was nothing amiss after all. 

"Let her in." He straightens up, moving the scrolls to the side to give her his full attention.

He watches as she bows gracefully, before sitting down. Far away from him. A ball forms in his throat, he'd gotten used to sharing his space with her; and sharing his table during their late night talks. She didn't appear to have any intentions of joining him at the surface despite the constant occurrence of that happening the months prior. He tries to but he couldn't keep the disappointment off his face.

"My Queen what brings you here so lat--"

"I'm not who you think I am." She interrupts, staring down at the floor instead of looking into his eyes. Strange again, she was typically so good at maintaining eye contact at times even unnerving him. 

He tenses at her exclamation, mouth falling open in shock. What did she mean? Who else could she possibly be if not his Queen?

"What are you saying? Are you feeling sick?"

She ignores his inquires, "You've noticed. That I'm different. I can see the way you look at me, the way everyone looks at me, like you're all waiting for something. I'm not that person."

He tilts his head, trying to understand her meaning but he can't decipher what she's trying to say. He tries to reconcile the two versions of the Queen he's come to know, the wild untamed Queen he fell in love with and this poised and tactful Queen he was a stranger to. The two don't make sense in his mind.

"The person you fell in love with..."

He stares at her intensely almost scared to hear the rest of her sentence but knowing he must, his biggest fear was living a lie and not having control over his fate. Holding his breath he impatiently waits.

"That wasn't me. Do you remember what I said to you the day after I woke up?"

He storms his memory trying to recall her words oh so long ago. Then it hits him, those crazy words coming out of her mouth.

I'm really a man. From the future.

He had paid her no attention than, barely wanting to be in her presence much less listening to her tall tales about something that couldn't be true. She was clearly a woman and the second claim held no possibility at all. But they'd had conversations later too about those same ideas, right in the spot he was sitting now.

She'd taught him about things he could only dream of- democracy, voting, people born with spoons, even people who loved others who shared the same sex. He'd been confused about the last one but she had explained it simply, "Love is love. Who cares what they have between their legs?" Worded in such a manner, he'd found it impossible to argue with her. Love was indeed, love. 

"Are you saying that this was true? How can that be? You are here right now. Who are you then?"

She sighed finally looking at him, face cloaked in sadness.

"I'm Kim Soyong, the person you are in love with is Jang Bong Hwan. He was controlling this body after I jumped into the lake. He's the one that helped you and he's the one that was willing to die for you."

He gasps leaning back in his chair, before bringing up a hand to cover his face, scrubbing wordlessly at his skin.

"I know this is shocking but I couldn't lie to you anymore, you kept looking for him and it's clear I'm not the one you want." Her voice is soft, barely a whisper and guilt spreads at her assessment- she's right and he's guilty that he can't deny it.

A sad smile fills her face, "Don't feel bad. You didn't do anything wrong. I should have fought harder to have the life I wanted, I thought death was my only option but I should have chosen to live. I didn't love myself enough to fight."

He's suddenly transported to that night by the lake, her eyes glowing with tears as she begged him to love her, to understand her. He hadn't been able to see that moment clearly then, assuming it was a command and that she was another evil member of the Kim Clan. She'd loved him but he couldn't see it then too blinded by his thirst for vengeance. 

But he sees it now. Clear as daylight.

"I'm sorry."

She seems paralyzed by his unexpected apology but before she can cut him off he continues, "I'm sorry I couldn't understand you. I was too blinded by revenge to see you that you were a victim too. I should have tried to understand you." He owes her at least that much, but he can't say that he wishes things were different. It would be falsehood. If she hadn't done that unspeakable act of throwing herself into the lake he would have never met Jang Bong Hwan, the man he loved.

It was selfish but he wouldn't have changed anything, it was all worth it for those fleeting moments they spent together.

"Is he gone now? Back to where he belonged? Is he....happy?" He's broken at the idea that he'll never see him again, they never even got to say good bye. Was he alone now with no one to comfort him? Did he struggle to fall asleep too? It hurts that he will never know.

"I think so."

That has to be enough then, he has to accept things for what they are. It was against the rules of time that they crashed into each other's orbit, fates hand had taken a wrong turn and this was the Queen he was supposed to be with, he understood her now. He didn't hate her. He could grow to accept her and his fate and move on, he had to. 

But his heart rips remembering her- no him wrapping the scarf around his neck, the first time he saw the embroidered CJ and how it brought him to tears. His grunts as he carried him from the well and let him hold him until he fell asleep. His face as he'd reached for him after the explosion, the distress and panic. How was he supposed to forget any of those moments? How was he supposed to go on living without Jang Bong Hwan? 

"Thank you for telling me."

"That's not all I came here to tell you."

His head spins, nervous about what other information she could possibly have to tell him. He still hasn't processed this, both that he's been in love with a man and that he'll never see this man again.

"I want to give him my body."

All the whirling in his brain shuts down at her utterance. Finally, his mind is silent.

"What?"

She repeats with more confidence, "I want to bring him back. I want to give him back this body."

He stifles his glee at the suggestion, knowing that he can't allow her to do such a thing. This was her body, her life, how could he allow her to throw herself into the lake again? He was a better man now, he wouldn't stand by as she took her life, not this time.

"No. I can't let you do that. My happiness is not worth more than your life, I will get past this I promise you. I will stop looking at you with expectations, I'll accept who you are." He will grow to think of her fondly, she's the mother of his child he will make space for her in his heart.

He watches as a single tear streams down her cheek, "Can you promise that you'll grow to love me, the way you love him?"

He's frozen at the question, he stares wide eyed at her. Immediately knowing the truth, avoiding her eyes as he stares at his palms. He can't make that promise when his heart only beats for one, he stays silent knowing that his silence speaks volumes.

"Would things have been different if I hadn't been from the Kim Clan?” She asks him again, the question that had tipped her over the edge and he feels all the regret and guilt in his body and this time he answers honestly.

"Yes. They might have, I could have accepted you better. But I love him now, I wouldn't change anything because it all brought me to him. I can't apologize for how things went." He knows those aren't the words she longs to hear but he can't give those to her, he can't accept her feelings.

"Maybe in a different universe, we could have been something more." She says heartbroken, face wet with tears now. 

Maybe. But he doesn't want to find out. He wants this universe with the one who holds his heart.

She bows before standing, "I've made up my mind. I'm doing this for myself as well, I can't live my life as a shell. I want to find my own happiness too."

He watches as she walks out the room, never looking back.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He doesn't understand her full intention until days later, he watches puzzled as Hong Yeon, the Queen's most loyal court maid comes barreling towards him. Her face is red with exertion and something that looks like terror. He feels the same emotions coming to life in his body as he watches her pant and struggle to speak. 

"What's wrong? Speak! What happened?" He commands, impatiently waiting for a reply. 

"Your majesty, it's the Queen." She cries, a cascade of tears falling from her eyes and he doesn’t wait for any clarification before he bolts off to Daejojeon hall, hoping that he's not too late. He couldn't afford to lose anyone else.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Say It

Characters: Kevin Atwater x black!reader

Summary: Kevin wants you to voice exactly want you want.  Again, yay! Can I request a fic with Kevin where he plans a surprise for his girl’s birthday? Maybe he decides to pop the question 😊. I just want more cute (and a little smut) fics for our boy. Requested by @jackburtonsays​

Warnings: Smut

A/N: Finally some smut for our boy, Kevin. Also listen to Say It by Ne-Yo. The lyrics are bolded.

@jackburtonsays​ I hope this is everything that you wanted & I’m so sorry it took forever to come out!

Typical, Kevin couldn’t show to dinner tonight. Usually, you wouldn’t mind because you understood the demands of his job but today you couldn’t help but feel abandoned. It was your birthday and Kevin promised he would be here.

“I know it sucks, Y/N, but Kevin wouldn’t have missed this if it wasn’t important.” Kim rubbed your back as you two walked into the restaurant.

You gave Kim a reassuring grab of the hand and a tight smile. “I know. I just wish it was different.”

Kim squeezed your hand and led you into the private room. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” You were greeted with air horns and streamers. It was bittersweet. You were surrounded by friends and family, but the person you wanted there the most wasn’t there.

Getting settled in your seat, Hank told you he had a surprise for you. He disappeared behind the door while Kim covered your eyes.

Your heart seized up when you heard an extra set of footsteps return with Hank. Pulling down Kim’s hands you were thoroughly disappointed when you saw it was Adam and not Kevin.

“Adam!” You threw a dinner roll at him that he managed to dodge. “What?! You’re not happy to see me?”

“Of course not!” You crossed your arms and pouted like a child.

“But I brought you a present.” And just like that Kevin popped out with a black turtleneck, a purple suit jacket with matching slacks, and a gold chain with a bouquet of flowers and a big ass smile. “Happy birthday, baby.”

Squealing you jumped into your boyfriend’s arms, making everyone around you laugh. “That’s really rude, you know. I was ready to give you the silent treatment.”

“Aww, baby,” Kevin rocked you side to side. “I could never miss this. You’re too important to me.”

You led Kevin to the table where you could enjoy everyone’s company. It’s been awhile since all of your friends and family could hang together, so this was the perfect birthday present. There was great food and conversation, what more could you ask for?

Although Kevin was thwarting your attempts to be matchmaker. He told you Kim and Adam would get back together on their own. Other than that, he doted on you the whole time. His arm either slung across your chair bringing you closer to him, so he can kiss your temple and whisper ‘I love you’ or his hand rubbing up and down on your thigh.

Eventually, you got tired of everyone’s company. Well except one person. “Tired, babe?” Kevin asked, noticing you getting restless. “Not particularly, but I’m ready to go home.” You fingered his chain and looked up at him through your eyelashes. Kevin made a big ‘O’ face when he figured out what you meant.

Under the table he texted Adam to start clearing out. Adam sent his friend a knowing smirk and got up to say his goodbyes. Soon, everyone followed suit and wished you a happy birthday once more then left.

--

“Had a good time,” Kevin questioned, kissing your neck while you unlocked the door. “Yeah, I’m about to have a better one.” You looked back at him and finally unlocked the door.

Not saying a word, Kevin led you to the bedroom, leaving you at the door while he sat on the bed. “So, tonight I want you to look me right in my eyes and I want you to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you. You ready?”

Shyly, you nodded your head and began shedding your clothes. For someone who was giving him ‘fuck me’ eyes all night long, you always got shy in the bedroom. Usually, Kevin never made you verbalize all the raunchy, dirty, nasty things you wanted. He just sexily asked if it was okay and your ass happily said yes.

“Damn, you’re so pretty, baby.” Kevin began to palm himself over his slacks. “No!” You surprised yourself at your dominance. “I only get to touch you like that,” you looked at Kevin questioningly. “Are you asking or telling me?”

“Telling.” You asserted, nodding to yourself. “Now take off your clothes,” you whispered against his lips.

A big smile graced his lips as he stood up. “Yes ma’am.” Your breath quickened as each article of clothing dropped to the floor. “You know this whole night, I could see how much you wanted me to fuck you. Your body she was talking to me.” Kevin’s eyes never left yours. Even though he was giving you control, he never lost his dominance. “Even now I can hear it moaning, begging loud and clearly.”

His hands went to the clasp on his chain, but you stopped him. “No! Keep it on and the rings too.” Kevin raised his hands in surrender. “Now lay down.” He complied with your orders. His hard dick flopping against his stomach as he scooted back.

“What do you want to do now?” He asked when he saw you just standing at the foot of the bed, retreating within yourself. “I don’t know.”

“You do know. Girl, don’t be shy, show me how bold you can be. Open your mouth and tell me where you want me.” With his encouragement, you told Kevin you wanted him on his back with his wrists tied to the bedframe. “My belt’s on the floor.” You scooted off him and got the belt. Once it was in your hands you looked at as if it was Mandarin. Kevin caught on and knew you didn’t know the first thing about tying someone up, since you were always the one being tied up. He kindly walked you through it until you were satisfied with your work.

“Now what?” He asked as you straddle him. Gaining an unknown confidence, you wrapped a hand around Kevin’s neck and sunk down on his length. “Now I use you however the fuck I want.”

You bounced up and down on Kevin’s dick, occasionally rolling your hips. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby girl. Make this dick yours.” Kevin praise and encouragement spurred you on further, chasing a close but also far away pleasure.

Riding Kevin, dominating Kevin was fun, but not as fun as when he was control and he could see it. Also, he couldn’t stand not having his hands on you. “Having fun, baby?” He smirked up at you, loving your struggle to make yourself cum on his dick. “Can’t get there without me, can you?”

“Please,” you broke down at the first sign of dominance. “Nah, you still have to use your big girl words. Tell me what you want.”

“I want…I want you choke me and fuck me so hard I see stars.” Kevin arched his brow while giving you a lopsided grin. “Oh, you want that? Say the word.”

“Fuck me, Kev.” Like nothing Kevin broke out the belt and flipped you onto your back. “You couldn’t handle it huh, baby? You couldn’t even tie me up properly.” Kevin snapped his hips into you, showing you how it was done. “Its okay, I’ll demonstrate on you another time.”

Unlike you, his hand fully wrapped around your neck. “You love it when I fuck you like this?” His tone was condescending while he pumped himself into you. Words were useless at this point. How could a simple yes describe the insurmountable pleasure you were experiencing? But a nod wasn’t gonna work for Kevin.  “Nah, say it.”

“I love it when you fuck me like this, Kevin,” you gasped as you clawed at his back.  Once you finished that sentence it was like he had renewed vigor (though it wasn’t like he lost it all), he pulled you flushed against him, fucking into you.

The rate he had you bouncing up and down on his dick had you sounding like a damn jack hammer. “So damn gorgeous.” He put one of your nipples in your mouth, causing you to scratch at the back of his head. “Please Kev, make me cum.” You whimpered into his ear.

Your nipple popped out his mouth. “Now you’re finally catching on. Next round you’ll do better, but right now I gotta give the birthday girl her gift.” Kevin sped up and reached down to rub on your clit. “I love you, baby girl.” Your orgasm hit you right after that and Kevin followed right after.

If Kevin didn’t already have his arms wrapped around you, you would’ve fell off the bed thanks to how hard you were shaking. When you finally caught your breath, Kevin laid you down right beside him. “Happy birthday,” he pecked your lips. “Where do you want me next?” Cupping his chin, you returned his kiss. “I’ve always been fond of these lips.” Licking his chin, you tugged on his bottom lip. “But I love them more on my pussy.”

Kevin pushed your legs back and slid down your body. “Anything you wish, birthday girl.”

--

As usual, you woke up before Kevin because of your stupid bladder. You were half out of it, but you knew you shouldn’t feel a hard object on your finger while you were washing your hands. Turning on the lights, you inspected your hand and got the surprise of your life. “KEVINNNNNNN!”

Running out of the bathroom, you found Kevin not in the bed but on the floor on one knee. Your heart was beating faster than it was last night. He couldn’t be doing this, could he? You would’ve known something, Kevin was horrible at hiding gifts from you.

“Good morning,” he smiled at you like he wasn’t just about to change your world. “Good morning,” you repeated, but with your throat clogged up.

“I followed directions. I’m not proposing on your birthday.” He referred to your conversation about how you would like to be proposed to. “Well, last night you proved that you know how to follow directions.” Your smile matched his.

Kevin laughed to himself. You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to crack a joke.  “That’s it, that’s why I’m on one knee. I wanna spend the rest of my life laughing at your jokes, I wanna spend the rest of my life dodging being your taste tester,”

“Hey!”

Kevin pulled you by your left hand, rubbing on the engagement ring. “I wanna spend the rest of my life loving you. So, can you do me the honor and marry me?” He looked up to you nervously with puppy dog eyes. He looked so adorable that way, but you couldn’t keep him hanging like that.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” A tear rolled down his face. He was in disbelief that you said yes.

“Yes, silly. I want forever with you.” Kevin lifted you up in his arms and twirled you around while he kissed you.

Best birthday ever.

Tags: @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @starrynite7114​ @sambucky8​ @mygirlrenee​ @richonne4life​ @readsalot73​ @chaneajoyyy​ @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ @jassydwill11 @jackburtonsays​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @amorestevens​ @vsfavs​ @muse-of-mbaku​ @night-of-the-living-shred​

[softyoongiionly]

Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Sixteen

(GIF does not belong to me,  my friend sent it to me over text! If anyone knows who made it, please let me know :) )

Confronting your fears for a final grade sounds unappealing but, with Yoongi as your partner, things might not be so bad.

Summary: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Underground Rapper! Yoongi, Soft!!! Yoongi, Fluff!!!, College! Yoongi, Sub! Yoongi

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: the love I have for this man is absolutely ridiculous. I have missed this series so much. I hope you love what I’ve done with the place ;) This is such an important chapter that I’ve been planning for the longest time. I hope you like it and, if you do: please please let me know!

NOTE: ALL BOLDED WORDS INDICATE WHEN CHARACTERS ARE SPEAKING KOREAN

Warnings for this Chapter: ok here we go...(TRIGGER WARNING)

minor angst, mentions of anxiety, mentions of criminal activity, mentions of bad parenting and abuse, mentions of trauma and related consequences, language, drug use, smut (holy heck the smut is ALOT).

Chapter Sixteen: The Past and The Present

You’ve never seen Yoongi angry before

Frustrated? Yes.  

Annoyed? Often.

Stressed? Aren’t we all?  

But, never angry.  

He is pissed and, he has a perfectly good reason to be.

A short phone call from his dear friend Sejin left him flushed and furious.

The reason being? Sejin has just informed Yoongi that due to a recent rent increase, Sejin can no longer afford to keep SoundCrowd open.  

“We’re going to figure this out ok? This isn’t over. I’ll talk to you later...”

The two of you had been watching a movie when he called and, your finger finally moves from the pause button as he hangs up his call.

You don’t think you’re going to be finishing it tonight.  

“Yoongi-“

“What the fuck?” His voice is sharp, the fury clear in his rhetorical question as he turns to you, “What the fuck?”

Your hand twitches with the urge to touch him, to soothe him in some way but, Yoongi pushes himself off the couch by the time you try.

“I- I’ve been going to that building for 10 years. Sejin always pays his rent on time, he won’t even eat sometimes just to make sure his bills are paid and, this?? This is how they repay him? Are they serious? How can they just kick him to the side like this? What is he supposed to do? Fu- fuck what am I supposed to do?” Yoongi exhales, raking a hand through his hair as he seems to search helplessly around the room for answers.

Yoongi was supposed to work for Sejin after he graduated.

“Babe, I’m so sorry I- his landlord can’t just do that right? That doesn’t make any sense.” You offer, biting your lip as a humorless laugh leaves Yoongi’s lips.  

“Of course he can, that’s what people like him do right? They gotta make their money. Who gives a shit about this guy and his livelihood? As long as he’s filling his pockets and, collecting his checks- he doesn’t give a single fuck about people like Seijin.”  

Yoongi is blistering.  

He isn't raising his voice at you but, the intensity of his emotions is getting the better of him.  

“This isn’t right. There’s gotta be something we can do to help him, we can talk to Jin maybe? His dad’s a lawyer and-”

“I have to go. I’m gonna go down there and, see if I can talk to the landlord. I have money in savings, I don’t know- maybe he’ll take a bribe or something.” Yoongi interrupts you, completely disregarding your presence all together as he starts to grab his keys.

You don’t want to admit it but, his behavior is hurting your feelings.

You know he’s upset and, you want to respect that but, he’s closing himself off.

Just like he used to...

“Well, let me get my shoes on and I’ll come. You shouldn’t go alone and you shouldn’t have to pay this asshole off. We just need to-”

“I don’t need your help Y/N.” Yoongi’s tone is final, leaving no room for negotiation as his words hit you right in the gut, “I’ll text you later. I’m sorry about the movie.”

With your mouth parted in shock, all you can do is nod as your boyfriend disappears through your front door.

You can honestly say it’s the first time that Yoongi’s ever hurt your feelings.

Like, really really hurt your feelings.

Like, now you’re crying on the couch thinking about why you just became the scapegoat for his frustration.

It’s normal for people to get short when they are upset but, you can’t seem to understand why he treated you that way.  

You thought you were passed all of this but apparently, you were wrong.  

Part of you is telling yourself not to take it personally.  

Whilst the other part of you is wondering why he’s still shutting you out.

Even after everything you’ve been through...

You decide to give him some space.

He’s only human.  

Sometimes, we need time to process things on our own.

The sinking feeling in your stomach doesn’t leave you though and, you try and busy yourself with a few household chores before eventually succumbing to the sadness you feel and crying again.

It be like that.

You sent him a text shortly after he left that read:

You: I’m sorry if I pushed a little too hard. Please let me know if/when you need anything. I love you.  

He still hasn’t responded.  

In an effort to thwart the flurry of emotions in your heart, you end up falling asleep on the couch, hoping that he would respond by the time you wake up.  

Instead, you are awoken by him calling you.

“Hello?” You can hear the grogginess in your voice and, Yoongi picks up on it immediately.

“Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, sorry I took a little nap after I cleaned up.”  

Your hand is over your mouth as you cover up the sound of your yawn whilst Yoongi rushes out his reply.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I can’t believe I talked to you like that. I’m r-really sorry. I was so angry and I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” His voice is tighter as if he’s staving off his emotions and, it makes you wanna cry a little bit, “Then I just left? I feel like such a dick...I just didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to go and, I wasn’t thinking.”

“I get it, you just found out some really shitty news. I don’t blame you for being angry at all but, it-” You take a deep breath, attempting to reign in your hurt a little bit before continuing, “it did hurt that you just left like that. I would have given you space if you needed it, I just wish you would have told me instead of shutting me out.”

You can hear him sniffle on the other end of the line.

He’s a little devasted that he hurt you but, he isn’t going to make that the focal point of this conversation.

He just wants to make it right.

“You’re right. I’m so sorry jagiya. I just freaked out...”He sniffles again, the rawness in his voice apparent, “I’m still freaking out and instead of letting you support me, I left and now I feel like an idiot.”

You wipe your eyes, nodding throughout the duration of his sentence, “You're not an idiot at all. I’m still here and, I’m willing to figure this out with you. I just need you to let me ok? I want to help. Where are you right now?”

“I’m at my house. I talked to Sejin for awhile and, I guess he said the landlord is coming by next week to discuss the contract with him. He asked me to be there as a witness and, if you’re alright with it, I would really like it if you came too...”

“Of course.” You smile softly, “Do you want-”

“Can you come over?” Yoongi’s voice cracks finally as you hear him break down on the other end of the line.  

Your heart follows suit as you immediately stand up and, head to your bedroom.

“I’m on my way.”

----------------

“Come here.” You whisper as your boyfriend opens his bedroom door, pulling him against your chest.

He’s dressed in a hoodie and his boxers, his hair completely disorganized due to the amount of time he’s probably messed with it.

“Jagi, I’m really sorry.” He’s all choked up when he buries his face in your neck and, you’re quick to rub tenderly at his lower back.

“Hey- I forgive you ok? Everyone has their moments baby, don’t be so hard on yourself.” You kiss the side of his face, kicking the door shut before ushering him towards the bed.

“I’m so scared...” He’s whispering now, his voice barely audible as he seems to cling onto the material of your t-shirt, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I don’t know how I’m gonna help him.”

Tilting his chin, you level with him, “We’re going to go there next week and, talk to this guy and, see what we can work out. The city instituted a law three months ago stating that rent increases have to be preapproved by the tenant, the landlord and, the property association. That’s what I was trying to tell you before you left.”

Yoongi winces, sighing as he shakes his head, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I just-” He glances towards you, a bit of apprehension in his eyes, “I’m not used to having someone around when shit like this goes down. I’m still really bad at relying on people and trusting them with my feelings. All I wanted to do was cry and, I didn’t want you to see that.”  

Placing a hand on his, you attempt to lock eyes with him, “Yoongi, I’m your girlfriend. I love you and, I’m not just in this for the good times. I’m in this for the bad times too. I get that it’s your instinct to close yourself off and handle things yourself but, if you want support I’m always here for you.”

Yoongi pulls you in for a hug then, tucking his face into your neck. He takes a deep breath but, he says nothing.  

He just holds you.  

The silence is natural and holds no expectation.  

You’d hug him all night if he needed you to.

Finally, Yoongi does speak and although he could pour his heart out to you right now, he decides to stick with the words that mean the most.

“I love you too.”

The two of you end up falling asleep together shortly after that.

Yoongi’s head is on your chest and the sensation of running your fingers through his hair is enough to lull you into a comfortable slumber.  

Despite the stress of the day, you both sleep through the night.  

Sleeping next to Yoongi brings you an immense amount of comfort.

It just feels right.

You wish you could sleep next to him every night.

The next morning when you awake, you realize very quickly that you’re alone.

Yoongi doesn’t appear to be anywhere in sight and in your slightly worried state, you decide to stumble out of bed to look for him.  

“I can pick up for you if you want, you look like shit.”

“Thanks, that’s exactly what I wanna hear right now.”

“You know what I mean. Hyung, she’s not gonna care, I don’t know why you’re freaking out about this.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No I don’t but, it’s Y/N. She’s doesn’t come across as the judgmental type. I do think it’s kinda weird you haven’t told her yet though, that might be the only thing she’ll have an issue with...”

“That’s why I’m worried. I feel like after everything we’ve been through, I should have been able to tell her this by now...”

“Why haven’t you?”

“I don’t like talking about it.”

“The weed or your parents?”

“Both. I mean, I don’t know-  the weed isn't that bad I guess but, I don’t want her to feel like I lied to her you know?”

“You didn’t lie. You guys just started dating. I’m sure there are plenty of things that you don’t know about her.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of- I feel like everything is always about me. I feel like I never ask about her...”

You know it’s wrong to eavesdrop but, you feel frozen in place, compelled by your own curiosity.

You have a million questions running through your head.

“I have to think about Sejin right now. I’ll smoke later on after I’ve had a chance to talk with her or something. I don’t know. She’s probably up right now, I should go check on her.”

“Take care Hyung, let me know if you need anything.”

Yoongi makes good on his plans to check on you and, thankfully you make it back to the bedroom before he realizes that you were listening in on his conversation.

The rest of the morning goes as planned.  

After grabbing coffee, Yoongi heads to SoundCrowd to ensure that Sejin doesn’t have an eviction notice on his door.

He doesn’t say much on the drive there; he merely holds your hand tightly on the center console, occasionally brushing his thumb over the back of your knuckles.  

It’s a little unnerving and the confrontational part of you wishes to break the silence but, you decide that now isn't really the time to bring up Yoongi’s conversation with Hoseok.  

Thankfully, Sejin’s door remains free of an eviction notice and, Yoongi visibly lets out a sigh of relief at the sight.  

You’re assuming the text he begins sending is to Sejin but, you don’t allow your gaze to linger long enough to find out.  

Upon pulling away from the studio, he lets out a breathy sigh before finally speaking up

“What are you doing this weekend?”

You cock your head, “This weekend as in tomorrow? Or this weekend as in next weekend?”

Yoongi’s lips twitch at your question, “This weekend as in tomorrow.”

“I was just planning on getting everything ready for graduation. I have a tenant coming to look at my apartment in three weeks so I figured I should probably attempt to scrub the spaghetti stain off the back of the fridge...”

He chuckles warmly and shakes his head, “Aside from explaining how you managed to get spaghetti on the back of the fridge, I was wondering if you wanted to uh- go somewhere with me.”

“Somewhere as in?”

“Daegu.”

Your heart skips a beat then, wondering exactly what brought on his sudden invitation.

With parted lips, you attempt to answer him immediately but, your words fail you.  

Yoongi’s teeth find a spot on his lower lip whilst he pulls out of his parking spot.

He can sense your confusion and he knows he can’t get away with asking you back to his hometown without an explanation.

“I need to go see my brother. He-” Yoongi sighs, glancing toward you, “He might be able to help Sejin if I let him know what’s going on.”

This only adds to your list of questions but, thankfully your brain hones in on the key part of this conversation:

“You want me to meet your brother?”

Yoongi hears the sincerity in your tone and it pulls his attention towards you.

“I do. If you’re comfortable with it, of course.”

Squeezing his hand a little tighter, you nod, a small smile forming on your lips, “I’m more than comfortable with it. I would love to meet your brother. When were you planning on leaving?”

Yoongi’s heart sings with your acceptance but, the only evidence of this is a small smile that emerges on his lips.  

“I was gonna leave tomorrow. My brother has uh- he has miles on this airline I can use and, theres more than enough for you too. I know it’s last minute but-”

“I love last minute.” You cut him off, clasping your hands together, “I just need to go back to my apartment to pack and feed Marizpan. I’ll text Jimin and let him know that I’ll be gone this weekend. Does your brother like anything from our area? Should we bring him something?”

Yoongi’s raspy laughter fills the confines of the car as he shakes his head, “I should have known that you’d be down for this kind of thing. If I was in your position, I’d be having a heart attack right now.”

You smile at the sound of his laugh, “Oh I’m sure the panic will set in shortly. But honestly, I’m more focused on the fact that you want me to meet your brother. It means a lot to me that you want me there.”

He squeezes your hand again and, you take a moment to admire the way he looks while he’s driving. Messy black hair, eyes slightly puffy from all the emotion, lips in desperate need of chapstick (and a kiss) and, his long spindly fingers carefully handling the wheel.  

He’s truly out of this world.  

“It means a lot that you want to be there.” He retorts but, there is something amiss within his gaze and you can’t help but remember the conversation you overheard earlier.

There is a beat or two of silence before the two of you break it at the exact same time.

“There’s something I-”

“Hey I-”

“Wait you go first.”

“No, I’m sorry. You go...” You insist, your heartrate picking up uncomfortably in your chest.

Yoongi sighs, dark eyes flitting over to you once or twice before he seems to hyperfocus on the road in front of him.

“There’s something, well- there are a few things I need to tell you before we go.”

Upon glancing away from him and back towards the streets in front of you, you notice that he’s heading towards your apartment.  

Part of you is glad that the two of you don’t have to separate for the duration of the weekend but, another (larger) part is very nervous about the information Yoongi has yet to share.  

Yoongi takes your silence as an invitation to continue but, he doesn’t exactly know where to start.

“There’s kind of a lot that you don’t know about me. It’s nothing I’ve hid intentionally but, I was waiting until it made sense to tell you I guess...” He rakes a free hand through his hair before a rather noticeable tightness arrests his features, “My brother is the only member of my family I still talk to but, it’s not just because they don’t approve of my music.”

You keep your hand firmly entangled with his and with the slight shift in his tone, you reassuringly thumb over his knuckles.

“Uh it’s kind of a lot to explain but- um...” His mouth hangs open as he hesitates between words. Despite the fact that you’re 2 minutes from your apartment, Yoongi looks eagerly at an alleyway, “I’m sorry, do you care if I pull over? I don’t think I can talk about this while I’m driving and, I just really need to get this out because, I’m kind of scared that you’re going to be mad at me and I-”

“Hey- hey...Yoongi it’s ok.You can pull over baby, there’s an alley right here.” You turn in your seat so you can get a proper look at him as he quickly zooms between the ramen shop and the liquor store.  

You’ve never seen him look so nervous before and, it’s starting to freak you out a little bit.  

He attempts to draw in a shaky breath through his nose as he hastily puts his car in park. For a moment, he seems to gather his thoughts, lips pursing in contemplation whilst he wipes a hand over his face.

At last, he turns slightly to unbuckle his seatbelt before he finally allows his eyes to flit to your face.

You shift again so you’re mostly turned towards him and squeeze his hand once more to encourage him to continue.  

“My parents didn’t just kick me out because they found out I was doing music. They kicked me out because I refused to join the family business-” He gathers the courage to look you dead in the eye because, despite his fear, he knows you deserve that level of respect, “and the family business is the within the largest criminal empire Daegu has ever seen.”

Your heart seems to stall in your chest then, your throat drying up with shock as you attempt to take in what he’s saying.

He brings your hand closer to him, wishing desperately that he could guarantee your presence after his explanation.  

But he knows he can’t.

“My parents run a counterfeit operation that basically operates as a gang. They don’t call themselves that but that’s what it is. They produce fake currency, participate in insider trading, they steal, they lie, they’ve-” He swallows, subconciously bringing your hand closer to him once again, “-killed. When I turned 15, my father told me that I’d have to start training to take over but, after everything I had seen. I knew I didn’t want to.”  

“When I told you my parents kicked me out, I wasn’t lying but, I didn’t exactly tell you the whole story. I told you that when they found my lyrics, they freaked out on me, which they did but, it was only after they had spent 6 months trying to bribe me into training.” He licks his lips, his eyes still trained on you as they try and decipher the thoughts running through your head. The truth is, your mind is completely blank at the moment.

“They bought me everything I wanted: cars, clothes, jewelry, they had another wing added to our house for me; they tried everything. I was considering it for a while, my parents didn’t start their operations until I was 9 or 10. I spent the first decade of my life in poverty until things began to turn around. At the time, I didn’t know why but, I figured it out when I was starting high school. My parents had gone insane with power. They got my entire family involved, even my brother. I didn’t blame them at the time; we were so poor our whole life and then suddenly we were rich. I didn’t want it to end but, then I realized- what the cost of our wealth really was.” Yoongi’s a bit breathless as the words just seem to tumble off of his tongue but, he’s unsure how coherent he really sounds.  

Nevertheless, he continues.

He wants to get it over with already.

“One night, when I was sneaking back in through the front gates, I heard something that would solidify my choice.” Yoongi swallows, his hand tightening almost painfully within yours, “My parents must have been on the phone with one of their allies or something but all I heard was a direct order coming from my father ‘kill them all’ he said, ‘every single one of them.’ The next day when I woke up, my brother was shoving his phone in my face. It was a news article about a homicide in another district. I wanted to throw up. I knew it was them. He knew too. We shared this pain between us but, unlike my brother. I couldn’t keep quiet anymore. I had to say something.” His voice is growing unsteady with every passing word and although you have a million questions, all you want him to know is that you’re still here.

“When I confronted my father, he went crazy on me. He had been up for a few days, probably strung out on something and, he beat the shit out of me. That’s when he destroyed my lyrics. He left everything else untouched but my laptop and my pages. He wanted to hurt me in any way he could because, he knew that I wasn’t going to follow in his footsteps. He told me I should be ashamed of myself for accusing them of being involved with the murder but, Y/N-” He’s voice his hoarse now, his sad eyes lined red with emotion as he shoots a desperate look towards you, “It had to be them. It’s the only thing that made sense. After he was finished with me, he told me I had a choice. He said ‘Yoongi, you can either stay here and start contributing to this family or you can disappear with nothing but the clothes on your back.’ So I made my choice. I lived on the streets for awhile until my brother found me one night, he told me about Sejin and tried to set me up with some money but, I wouldn’t take anything from him. Every bit of money my family has, has blood on it. I accepted his offer to live at Sejin’s place and, every thing else I already told you that night at my studio but, I didn’t know how to tell you all of this...I tried to put it all behind me for so long but, now that Sejin is in trouble- I have to go back. My brother left the business too but, he took money with him. He’s loaded and, I know if he knew about Sejin, he’d want to help out. I don’t know- fuck please just tell me what you’re thinking. I know you’re probably mad at me and that’s completely ok- I just didn’t know how to tell you...”

You are honestly shocked by Yoongi’s confession but, you can’t say that you’re mad at him.  

You understand that this extremely complicated.

You don’t think you’d necessarily want to share it either.  

Looking at your boyfriend now, your heart breaks.

His expression is akin to a man completely torn apart. He looks lost, broken, frightened: everything you don’t want him to be.  

You do what comes naturally because, words are not appropriate right now.  

Dropping his hand intially alarms him but, when you lean across the center console to pull him against your chest, he can’t help but break down.  

He cries.

No, he doesn’t cry- he sobs.  

His hands come up to cling to you, the tension in his grip signifying that he’s desperately afraid of letting you go.

With each rigged intake of breath, Yoongi seems to cry harder into your neck, staining the color of your shirt with his tears.  

“My life was so miserable Y/N. I didn’t know how to tell you how bad it was- my whole life. I’m sorry I was such a coward. I’m so sorry I- I didn’t know how to say it. I just wanted you to think I was normal.” He cries and with every word, you hold him tighter.

With every word, your heart breaks.

“You are not a coward Min Yoongi. You are the strongest person I know.” You whisper into his ear, teary eyed yourself as you do your best to hold it together.  

“I’m so sorry jagiya...” Yoongi cries, his voice nearly dropping to a whisper, the nape of his neck slick with sweat due to the anxiety he feels.

He is still so terrified of losing you.  

“You have nothing to be sorry for- look at me...” You command softly, guiding his face out of your neck and cupping it between your palms, “None of this is your fault. I understand why you wouldn’t want to tell me. This is a lot to take in but, baby this isn’t your burden to bear. You aren’t responsible for the choices your parents have made...”

“I don’t come from a good life Y/N. I come from such a horrible family. My family never showed me love, they never showed eachother love. They are bad people and, you deserve more than a man who comes from that. You deserve someone who has a normal family. You deserve more than me...”

“Yoongi, listen to me right now. You are the most incredible man I have ever met. You are smart and brave and selfless and clever and kind and so so special and, I’m not going to sit here and listen to you punish yourself for your parent’s mistakes. They had a beautiful son that they neglected. They created this warped version of yourself that apparently doesn’t deserve love and happiness but that’s bullshit ok?” You’re crying too now because, you want to drive this point home, you want him to know the truth, and believe it.

Everything starts to make sense now.  

Yoongi resists affection because he doesn’t think he deserves it.

He’s denied himself happiness so long because, he doesn’t think he’s worth the trouble.

You need him to know that he is.  

He’s worth so much more than he realizes.

“It’s such bullshit...” You repeat, kissing between his eyes which still flow steadily with tears, his breathing is still so uneven but, he’s hanging on every word you say, “You deserve everything you want. You deserve to be loved. I’m so sorry you had to live like that. I’m so sorry that they never told you how incredible you are but, that doesn’t make it any less true.”

His face crumbles under the weight of your words, his hands coming up to brush against the outside of yours, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t intentional, you just made me forget how things used to be. I just wanted to pretend like it never happened.”

You understand that.

There are things in your life that you wish you could forget.  

Yoongi eases so much of your troubles that you could empathize with his decision to brush all of this under the rug.

You’ve both been basking in the warm glow of your first love that it was easy to forget what life was like before one another.  

But it doesn’t mean it never happened.  

“The last I heard, my parents had slowed down a bit. They told my brother that they were starting to liquify their assets. I guess he’s getting quite a bit of money from that. It seemed less important when he told me that. I felt like maybe I could just move on but, I realized when I started dating you how much of it really stuck with me. Plus, I felt like I was lying to you. I never want to make you feel like I’m hiding things from you. The only other people that know about this are Namjoon and Hoseok and, Hoseok found out cause he overheard Namjoon and I talking about it.”  

You lean forward once again to place a kiss between his eyes before pulling him back into your arms.

“I hear you. You’re not wrong for waiting to tell me. I’m just sorry you had to deal with all of this internal struggle. I think we forget that we’ve only been dating a few months because of how quickly we fell for eachother. There are things you don’t know about me too you know? Nothing as intense as being the offspring of two criminal masterminds buuuuut you know, still...”

Your attempt to slowly lighten the mood works as a small chuckle is felt within the crook of your neck along with the pinching of your hips.  

“I want to know everything about you.” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist.

Kissing the side of his head, you smile, “It’s a good thing we have so much time then.”

This finally prompts a smile to appear on his face and, although you can’t see it, you can feel it.  

“I love you so much.” Yoongi whispers, placing a kiss on the side of your neck

----------------------------------------

The two of you head back to Yoongi’s house shortly after you pack your things.

Yoongi doesn’t leave your side the entire time, other than to use your bathroom to wash his face and even then, he leaves the door open the whole time.  

After your bags are ready to go, the two of you decide that staying at Yoongi’s place is best since he leaves a little closer to the airport.  

Yoongi booked your flight whilst you were packing and managed to find a flight leaving at 1:20pm the next day.

He didn’t even look at earlier flights because, there is no way he’s getting up before 9am tomorrow, especially not after everything that’s happened today.  

It’s not long before Yoongi is unlocking his front door and as he does, something new graces your senses.

It’s an unmistakeable smell and, immediately Yoongi’s eyes widen as he takes his first breath.  

“Yah Hoseok?? Why does it smell like shit in my house?” Yoongi calls and leads you toward the living room.  

“I told you I was picking up, and that smell is the sign I got the good shit! Come hit this hyung, its fucking gooood.” Hoseok calls back and immediately you start giggling

“Yeah Yoongi, go hit that.” You tease, his earlier conversation with Hoseok making a lot more sense now, “I didn’t know you smoked weed...”

“Did you tell your girlfriend yet or what?” Hoseok calls again and Yoongi’s cheeks are practically on fire at this point as he braves a glance towards you.

“No but you just did pabo...” Yoongi grumbles as he finally leads the two of you into the living room.

Hoseok and Namjoon are spread out on the couch, there eyes completely bloodshot, heavy with the evidence that they had been smoking for awhile. Namjoon chuckles lowly and shakes his head, “Yah, you’re so fucking loud. How do you have the energy to yell after how much we just smoked?” Namjoon smiles pleasantly at you, raising a hand politely, “Hi, Y/N. How are you?”

You smirk, putting your arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, “Hi guys. I’m good, I’d ask how the two of you were doing but, I think I have my answer.”

Yoongi groans before turning towards you quickly, tugging you so your body is pressed against his, “I was gonna tell you too but-”

“Before he starts groveling at your feet,” Namjoon interrupts, “He stopped smoking when he realized he liked you. He hasn’t done anything since because, he was worried that you wouldn’t like it. He was planning on telling you when he asked you to be his girlfriend, which was literally like a week ago so, I’m sure he was gonna tell you soon. But to answer your question, yes your boyfriend smokes weed. A lot of weed.”

Yoongi anxiously scans your face for any sign of disapproval but, all he gets is a tilted chin a kiss on his lips.

“Wow, you’re cute.”  

He furrows his brows, “You’re not mad?”

You giggle as you shake your head, gesturing to the couch, “Yoongi, you’ve met my friends. Taehyung and Jungkook might as well change their names to Jay and Silent Bob...”

“Yooo that’s what I always say about Yoongi and I!” Hoseok cackles, as he points at you, the sound of his voice causing Namjoon to wince.

“Hoseok-ah, lower your voice, you’re ruining my high.” He chuckles before nodding to the table, “See? There you go Hyung, now come over here and smoke this shit with us, you look like you need it.”  

Yoongi looks relieved but, he’s still apprehensive, “You promise you’re cool with it? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable...”

Another giggle leaves you lips as you start tugging him towards the couch, setting your bag on the kitchen counter, “It’s really sweet that you’ve considered my feelings in all of this but, smoking weed isn’t a big deal to me. My family smokes all the time. It’s just not for me because, I have baby lungs but, I have no issue with you smoking it.”  

“Yahhh that’s good shit right there, see hyung? I told you she’d be chill with it. Now come sit down, I’ll pack a bowl for you.” Hoseok smiles, finally heeding Namjoon’s request and lowering his voice.

A small smile is on your boyfriend’s lips then as he looks towards you once again, “Love you...” He mumbles before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You nestle into the corner of their couch whilst Hoseok thoughtfully packs the clusters of weed into a solid black, glass pipe.

“Is that my piece?”  Yoongi asks with an arched brow and Hoseok merely shrugs

“You havent been using it and this shit was expensive so Joon and I snagged it from you. You can have it back if you’re gonna start smoking again but other than that, I’m keeping it.”  

“You can’t keep it, that was his birthday present.” Namjoon grumbles, playfully hitting Hoseok’s thigh.

Yoongi licks his lips as takes a spot next you, mindlessly rubbing his hand over your bended knee, “I want it either way. Don’t take my shit.” He smirks before jerking his head  to the pipe, “Let me see it, you’re not packing it right.”

“Right? That’s what I’m saying, he packs it too thin!” Namjoon exclaims, his hand resting on his stomach

“Fuck off, if I pack it so thin, why are you stoned out of your mind right now?”

Namjoon chuckles again, tilting his head in agreement, “Because I haven’t smoked in awhile either, med school fucked my tolerance up.”

Namjoon and Hoseok’s dialogue seems to fade in the background as your attentions hones in on Yoongi.

His black hair is falling in his face while he tries to save the “poor” job Hoseok was doing. He has his tongue poking between his lips whilst he concentrates, his fingers delicately working the weed where he feels it belongs.  

He keeps twitching his nose and jerking his head to the side, trying to get his hair out of his face until finally you reach out and tuck the strand behind his ear.  

Yoongi instantly grins as you do and turns to the side and playfully snaps his teeth at your fingers.

“Heyyy, I’m trying to help you...” You giggle, “I don’t want you to smoke your hair.”

“I got this.” He assures you before timid eyes land on you once more, “Are you sure you’re good with this?”  

“I promise.” You assure him for the millionth time before reaching towards the coffee table to hand him a lighter, “Here.”

Yoongi smirks shyly as he mumbles a thank you before raising the pipe to his lips.

He raises the lighter to the nest of green positioned to his liking before using his thumb to set it on fire. As he inhales deeply, his eyes flutter shut while his chest puffs out with the force of his breath.  

Within 10 seconds or so, he’s pulling away, pausing for a second before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.  

“Fuck me...” He chuckle deeply, smoke still rushing out of his lips, “That is good shit. Who did you pick up from?”

“Right?” Hoseok laughs, flopping back against the couch, “It’s one of Jin’s friends, he started growing recently so, I wanted to help him get started. I need to tell him to keep doing what he’s doing.”  

Yoongi just nods before using the butt of the lighter to press the bud down. Within a few seconds, he’s lighting up again, the hair you tucked behind his ear quickly falling in his face again.

You really can’t help yourself.

You feel like a such a cliché right now but, there is something so hot about watching Yoongi smoke.

He looks like every bad boy in every single shitty romance novel and, god you can’t help but press your thighs together at the sight.  

Yoongi tilts his head back, exposing the long column of his throat as he exhales another hit, a smirk hanging on the end of lips.

His adams apple bobs as he swallows back a cough before slumping against the cushions.

“Here-” He hands the pipe back to Hoseok, “I think I’m good right now, it’s already kicking in.”  

You’re practically drooling at the sight of your boyfriend right now but, you don’t want to be too obvious.

Between Namjoon’s observation skills and Hoseok’s bluntness, you’re doomed to be called out if you don’t reign it in.  

“I told you hyung, this guy is the new plug. Y/N...” Hoseok holds the pipe up, “Are you sure you don’t want any?”

“No I-” Your voice comes out awfully squeaky and it immediately causes Yoongi to turn his head towards you. Clearing your throat, you continue, “No, I’m good thank you. Can I have some water though? My throat is really dry.”

Yoongi shoots up immediately, “Shit jagi, I’m sorry. I didn’t offer you anything. I’ll get it right now. You sure you want water? I can make you a drink or we have gatorade and some sprite too.”  

His eyes are definitely heavier with the slightest tint of red but, they still hold the same bit of attentiveness they always do.

“Water is good babe, thank you.”  

Hoseok grins, “Whiiiippppeeeddddd.” He slurs and Namjoon chuckles but, otherwise keeps quiet.

Yoongi merely smirks before heading over to the kitchen to get you a bottle of water.

“You’re being too informal.” He admonishes, still smirking as his face is illuminated by the light from the fridge, “Just one jagi?”

He holds up a bottle of water, his eyes holding a bit more sweetness as he directs his attention towards you.

“One is perfect.” You giggle at their banter, tucking yourself further into the couch, already wishing for Yoongi to be back beside you.

“One is perfect babyyyy...” Hoseok cackles again, the effects of the weed likely increasing his usual nature.

“Shut up.” You laugh again, smacking his shoulder lightly.

“Yah hyung! Your girlfriend is over here smacking me around!” Hoseok yells again despite the fact that Yoongi is literally in the same room.

“Hoseok-ahhhhhh...” Namjoon whines, putting a pillow over his face, “Stop yelling bro, it’s too fucking loud.”

Hoseok is still giggling, despite his hyung’s warnings as Yoongi finally returns from the kitchen.

“Seriously...” He mumbles in agreement as he hands you the water but, as you reach out to take it, he slumps beside you and takes your wrist in his hand,lowering his tone, “Yah, I’m the only one you should be smacking around yeah?”

His eyes are hooded, his lips still upturned in a smirk as he unscrews the cap for you, holding it out to your lips, “Here’s your water jagiya...”

For once, you’re a little speechless but, you take his offer anyway, securing your lips around the water bottle.

His eyes linger as you take a few sips from it before he screws the cap back on for you, setting back on the coffee table.

“You’re bad.” You giggle, impressed by Yoongi’s boldness

He just grins, cat-like as ever, and lays his head in your lap, subtly nuzzling against your thigh.

“This shit is going to put your boyfriend to sleep, Y/N so be prepared to carry his ass off to bed in a bit.” Namjoon comments, smirking almost fondly at his hyung.

“I’m prepared.” You snicker and, just like Yoongi, you lower your voice to a volume just for him, “I thought putting you to sleep was my job?”

With your teasing question, you run your fingers through his hair and much to your delight, a shiver runs down his spine.

He nuzzles further into your thigh, his hand gripping the outside of it whilst he replies, “It still is.”

It’s all he can muster up for now but, you don’t miss the glint in his eyes before they flutter shut.

The TV has been on since you’ve arrived but Hoseok finally changes the channel and, you continue you running your digits through your boyfriends silky locks.

This goes on for quite some time until your touch begins to have an unexpected effect on your boyfriend’s resolve.

Having you play with his hair when he’s sober is amazing/comforting but, it’s intensified due to his intoxication and the sensations are turning him on.  

It’s not long until you both end up in his bedroom and as soon as he shuts the door, he’s pressing you up against it.

With a dark chuckle, he’s kissing at your mouth, taking a deep breath as he allows his hands to explore your body.

“God you really know how to get my dick hard don’t you?”

You laugh into his lips, kissing him back eagerly as your hands push his jacket off of his shoulders, “Is your dick hard right now?”  

It’s a bullshit question.

You already know he’s hard.

You could tell by the way he walked you awkwardly into his room.  

“I don’t know-” He teases, pressing his hips against yours, allowing you to feel the tightness in his jeans, “What do you think?”

Your mouth waters at the feeling of him, your hand quickly travelling down to rub over his dick.

“Fuck-” Yoongi hisses, his head falling forward onto your shoulder.

“You feel hard to me.” You whisper in his ear, nibbling on the shell of it, enjoying the way he trembles for you.

“I’m so sensitive right now- jesus christ.” He mutters, mostly to himself before kissing up your neck.

With his hips pressed to your hand, he brings his heavy gaze to yours, a smirk crawling it’s way onto his lips, “Is this ready for me right now?” He practically coos, sliding his hand from your hip to the ache between your legs, cupping your pussy.

After the past few days he’s had, you don’t have the urge to tease him.

All you want to do is fuck his brains out.  

“Mhm...” You hum, kissing at his lips as you slowly begin to back him up towards the bed. “Right now.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles again, his eyes heavier due to the lust and the weed coursing through his body, “Will you come ride this dick for me then?”

Whilst the two of you are talking, you’re tugging at one another’s clothes and, the next thing you know it; you’re both laying naked on Yoongi’s bed.

He’s big hands slide up the outside of your thighs, squeezing roughly once they get to your ask before he continues his verbal assault on your sanity.

“I’m so fucking hard right now. I’m gonna give you so much baby. I’m gonna fill it up until it drips all over my sheets...”

This shit is hitting different.

Yoongi’s never spoken like this before and you’d be lying if you said it set you on fire.

When his head hits the pillow, the onyx tendrils on his head splay messily across the pillowcase.

Licking your lips, you slide your hands up your body, caressing your breasts, brushing your sex along Yoongi’s twitching dick.

“Oh my god, look at you. You’re so fucking pretty c’mere...” He groans, ushering you back down to his lips, kissing you tenderly, “You gon’ ride this dick for me baby? Let me into this pretty pussy of yours?”

“Uh-huh...” You grunt, sucking on his bottom lip, bracing your hands on either side of his head, “I wanna make you cum so hard...”

“Oh jagiyaaa...” He laughs and its that rickety, almost evil kind of laughter that you find so attractive, “That’s the only way you’ve ever made me cum. Your baby is sensitive when he’s high though, so you gotta be careful or I’m gonna cum before you’ve even started...”

Jesus christ.

“You want it gentle then?”  

“Nah. I want you to ride it how you want to. It’s your dick isn’t it? You take care of it how you see fit. I just wanna watch and cum inside you.”

His words snap something inside of you and, before you know it, you’re sinking down on his throbbing dick.

Yoongi grins as soon as he feels you, his hands immediately taking purchase on your hips.

“Oh shit, that’s it...” Yoongi’s whimpering but its low and slow and, it fills you with more motivation.

You lean down, brushing your mouth against his, nibbling on the plump flesh of his bottom lip.

“Good?” You whisper as your hands dig into the pillow beside his head.

His dick is made for you, you’re certain of it.

It curves perfectly against the spot inside of you that immediately seems to make you sick with pleasure.

Yoongi's lopsided smirk has yet to fade but he eagerly presses his lips to yours, his hands coming up to secure your face.

He just nods before sliding his tongue into your mouth, brushing slowly against the side of your own, his hips pumping up along with the rhythm you’ve set.

Throughout your lust-driven haze, you feel him pull away, his hand still cupping your cheek.

“This pussy is good. I swear to god, it’s gonna make me lose my shit. Fu-fuck me...” He stutters when you bottom out on him again, your walls fluttering around him sinfully,  

He shoots a pleading look your way but, he’s rendered speechless as you increase your pace on him.

“I love when you’re inside of me.” You say because its’ the truth and you never get tired of telling him, “I love when you cum inside of me. You’re the only one who makes me feel this way.”

Yoongi’s mouth parts in awe, his moan getting caught at the back of his throat as his gaze flits eagerly between your thighs.

“Mine...” Yoongi croons in Korean, unable to conjure up a coherent thought.

You know this word though and, you’re prepared with a reponse.

“Yours.” You kiss him again, locking eyes with him once more, “Forever.”

That’s enough to break him.

He’s cumming hard inside of you now, rope after rope of his release painting every inch he can reach, his body tightening with the force of his orgasm.

In spite of his current state, he still manages to rub your clit whilst you chase your own high, confessing his love for you over and over again until the two of you are completely spent.

---------------------------------------

Later on that evening, the two of you decide to sit in the backyard around the fire pit and snuggle up under one of Yoongi’s many throw blankets, relishing in one another.

Pressing a kiss to the backs of your knuckles, Yoongi murmurs some of the things he’s always too afraid to say.

“I hope you know how much you mean to me. I know that things aren’t always easy with me and, I hope that after today, you can understand why. But, I still hope you know...how much I love you.”  

His words send butterflies into your stomach as you snuggle closer to him, “I’ve never felt more loved than when I’m with you, Yoongi, even if you don’t say anything. I know.” You kiss his check before tilting his face towards yours, “And I hope, even when you’re having a tough day or a tough week, you know that I have your back. I hope you never have to feel alone or unloved ever again. Because I’ll always be here for you and, I’ll always love you.”

He smiles, gums and all before surging forward to kiss you, his hands delicately brushing against your cheeks.

“Angel.”

It’s all he whispers before kissing you again, pouring his love into each of his movements.

You want to argue with him; you want to tell him that he’s the angel but, instead you smile into his lips as you always do, and just kiss him.

Yoongi decides in that moment that he doesn’t have to do life alone anymore.  

He decides that he’s found his team member.

His partner.

His lover.

His soulmate.  

[joonie-beanie]

Unspoken Affections

Paring: Bean (MC) x Lucifer

Word count: 2,059

This is a short story for my MC Bean, and Lucifer.

To get a brief understanding of Bean and Luci’s relationship, I suggest clicking the link above and reading Lucifer’s section on the post. This story is basically when Lucifer finally draws out Bean’s feeling for him.

👉👈 I hope some people can relate to Bean, and enjoy the angst/fluff/comfort.

The moment Bean lays eyes on Lucifer, her heart skips a beat.

She’s inexplicably enthralled with him--his handsome smiles, his kind gestures, his everything. She wants to learn him, wants to be close to him in a way that his brothers can’t. She wants his affections--wholly, selfishly--all to herself.

But he feels so beyond her. His very existence is something crafted by god. Among the brothers, he’s the most powerful, and beyond that, he’s Diavolo’s right hand.

And Bean is just a human. A human who yearns for something far out of her reach.

She draws a line in the sand from day one--attempts to cut herself off from her feelings for the Avatar of Pride.

Don’t let Lucifer know you’re in love with him. 

It’s not an easy thing to do, but she manages.

She befriends the seven brothers, growing her relationships with them every day. And it feels natural, with all of them--to eat, drink, and be merry. To stay up late and do homework together, or go out on a grocery run in their company. Every relationship feels equal, and fair...until skinship starts being shared.

A bear hug from Beelzebub is met with laughter, and reciprocation. Bean throws her arms around Mammon or Leviathan without second thought. And if Asmo pecks her cheek, or Satan holds her waist, or Belphie hugs her from behind, she’s all smiles.

But the moment Lucifer appears at her side, fingers curling around her shoulder and giving her the softest of squeezes, she’s stiff as a board. Her face goes carefully blank for a split second, and it takes her a moment to regain herself--smiling up at him, and acting like nothing is wrong. That she hadn’t just reacted to his touch so vastly different than his brothers.

It throws him through a loop.

Had he done something to offend her? He doesn’t bother questioning Bean, in the moment. He lets it go, and decides that he’s likely overthinking. Perhaps his show of affection had been unexpected.

So, he tries to exhibit his affections more often. A headpat here, an arm around her waist there. Yet, all shows are met with fake smiles, and carefully picked reactions. 

Lucifer, despite himself, starts to get frustrated.

Bean acts as if nothing is wrong following those moments. She continues her relationship with him as normal--checking on him when he works too hard, keeping him company in his study on late nights, bringing him meals if he can’t find the time to pull away from his work.

She exhibits a kindness to him that feels genuine, and intimate. He has caught her on more than one occasion simply watching him--a fondness reflected in her eyes that has his heart beating a bit faster.

When she’s not being careful, he can read her affections for him clear on her face. And yet, when he tries to draw out those affections, his attempts end up futile. She shys away--locks her feelings behind a poorly constructed veil. 

And for what it’s worth, Lucifer strives to be understanding. He waits, and gives her space, hoping that one day she will open up to him. Yet, weeks pass, and he’s left watching from the sidelines as Bean showers her brothers in her physical affections, but not him.

He still receives her love--through late night conversations, and freshly brewed cups of tea--but he craves what his brothers have. Doesn’t understand why he’s the outlier among his siblings. He has been nothing but kind to Bean--has opened himself up to her more than he has to anyone in the last millennia. And it’s clear that she loves him--that she cares for him just as equally as any of his brothers. 

So why won’t she allow him to get close?

Finally, he decides to breach the topic.

“Why do you reject my shows of affection?”

Bean is sitting on the couch in his study, DDD in her hand, when he speaks those fateful words. Her fingers still, eyes widening ever so slightly as she turns her head up to stare at him. She hadn’t even heard him stand from his chair, or make his way to her side. But here he is, towering over her--leaving her nowhere to run.

Lucifer can see her scrambling for a lie to come up with. Even if she tries to cover-up how flustered the question has made her, he can see it in the way her body reacts. He has been around her too long now--he notices the little things about her, the tiny habits her body has when she’s startled, or mad, or happy.

“I--”

“I am no fool, June,” he speaks plainly, leaning down to her eye level. Her gaze darts away, flustered by the close proximity, and the way her real name sounds when spoken by the Avatar of Pride. Lucifer reaches a gloved hand forward to grasp her chin. He continues once he has guided her gaze back to him--her pink tongue poking out to wet her dry lips.

“I see the way you interact with my brothers, and the way you interact with me, and there is a difference. You’ve allowed the others the right to adore you--to touch you, however they wish--,” his voice softens, crimson eyes trailing down her neck. He spots the faint marks that linger on her skin, barely visible to anyone who isn’t searching for them. “--but it seems that such a right has not been given to me,” his heavy gaze jumps back to hers, and he sees the blush that has spread on her cheeks--can practically hear the way her heart has sped up within her chest.

“Why?”

He releases her, gives her space to think, but doesn’t move far. Lucifer won’t allow her to skirt around him this time. He wants to hear the truth. 

“Lucifer…”

Bean has been dreading this moment--trying so desperately to avoid it for as long as possible. She doesn’t want to express her adoration. The amount of love inside of her that solely belongs to Lucifer is overwhelming, and she feels that if she admits it, the dam she has so helplessly crafted will break, and everything--every feeling--will come flowing out at once.

And what will Lucifer say, then, when she admits that she loves him? That she has longed for him since day one, and has wanted nothing more than to be his? Surely, someone like her will be rejected. Lucifer is an ex-angel, a powerful demon, an otherworldly being who she cannot live up to, no matter how hard she tries. 

She cannot match him. And he deserves better.

And yet, Lucifer has no plans of letting her escape the current conversation. He won’t let her leave until her feelings for him have been aired.

Bean wants to run away--far, and fast.

Without warning, she presses to her feet, and faces Lucifer. His eyes widen in surprise, taking in the brilliant blush that has spread across her face. She looks embarrassed, and angry, and sad all at once.

“I love you,” she says. “So much. Too much.”

Lucifer falls silent at her words, confused, and elated. He only snaps back into reality when Bean slides past him, making a break for the door.

He’s quick to grab her wrist--twirling her around and wrapping his strong arm around her waist, so their fronts are pressed together. She raises her hands to push against his chest, but her attempts to disconnect herself are fruitless. 

“If you love me then why do you act like this?” Lucifer gives her a squeeze, emphasizing his words. 

Bean goes still in his grasp. Her forehead knocks against his shoulder, defeated, and he can feel her shakily exhale.

“Because you’re too good for me.”

Her voice warbles as she speaks the words, and Lucifer can sense the sadness in her soul. The heartbreak that she’s placed upon herself, before ever giving him a chance to reciprocate her feelings. 

Her fingers shake where they rest against his shirt, emotions overwhelming her, just as she had feared. And she tries to calm herself down--tries so very desperately to shove her feelings back into their cage--but Lucifer thwarts her attempt. 

His gloved fingers brush over her flushed skin, moving her hair from her face. He cups her cheek, beckoning her to look at him, and the soft look of affection shining in his eyes breaks her. 

Tears well in her eyes, fingers fisting in his shirt.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

She sobs the words, breaking down in his arms, unable to control herself. This is not what she expected. This is not the rejection she had mentally prepared herself for time and time again. 

The love she sees in his crimson gaze scares her as equally as it thrills her. Her deepest fears and insecurities rise to the surface, reminding her of her imperfections--of all the reasons she had ever felt inferior to the Avatar of Pride. She wants to tell him that he’s making a mistake--looking at her with such adoration. He could have someone better--someone shorter, or taller--someone skinnier than her, with a prettier face, and better qualities. 

There is no reason for him to love her, and yet, he does. Wholly, and truly. 

It shows plain on his face, as he stands there, holding Bean in his arms. He wipes her tears away without second thought--cradles her head and presses his lips into her hair as she hangs onto him--soaking her worries into his shirt with each hot tear that falls.

“Silly girl,” he whispers the words against her. She chokes on a laugh, sniffling. She’s finally beginning to come down from the barrage of emotions that have afflicted her. 

“I’m not silly,” Bean mumbles, leaning away from him as she lifts her palms to rub at her eyes. “I was really worried, you know? You’re just...you’re you, and you’re perfect, and handsome, and amazing--there’s no reason for you to love someone like me--”

“And who is someone like you?” he questions softly, his palms lifting to cradle her cheeks. His thumbs stroke lovingly over her flushed skin, clearing away whatever tears remain. “Someone intelligent, and kind-hearted? Someone who works-hard, and is mindful of others?”

Bean pouts at his words, but leans into his touch--craving the feeling, and the comfort that comes along with it. Lucifer breathes a laugh, leaning down to meet her. He tilts her chin up, connecting their lips softly, and Bean quietly moans--the sound full of longing, and satisfaction. 

Her hands lift to wrap around his neck, and she presses herself into him--deepening the kiss without second thought. She has longed for this moment, has dreamed about it too many times to count.

“I love you as well,” he whispers the words into the kiss, staring at her with half lidded eyes. Pride wells within him, his sense of self returning as he finally receives the abundance of love she has kept hidden for so long. The declaration of her affections for him sates Lucifer in a way he can’t begin to describe. 

He feels relieved above all else, but a hunger stirs inside him. 

He has waited too long for this moment--missed out on countless days and hours he could have spent loving her, had he only confronted her about her feelings sooner. 

He is jealous of his brothers, and the amount of time they’ve already had to love her--to have her in ways that he’s been unable.

Lucifer moves his arm to wrap around her waist, his other hand petting through her hair and cradling the back of her head. He kisses her deeper--open mouthed, hot, and wet--evoking tiny gasps, and wanton groans. 

And Bean melts into him, done fighting. She allows herself to drown in his affections, her hands moving to grab the fur of his coat as she holds onto him for dear life. 

By the time Lucifer pulls back, she’s blushing prettily, gasping for air. He smiles, fingertips soothingly rubbing through her hair. 

“Tell me again,” he says, pressing a ghost of a kiss to her lips. “Who do you love?”

She opens her mouth, no hesitation present, and Lucifer feels his heart sing. All those months hiding from him, and it’s only taken 10 minutes to tear down all of her walls. 

“You, Lucifer. I love you.”

He has a lot of lost time to make up for.

[delimeful]

my virtues uncounted (4)

winner of august’s second monthly fic poll! hope you enjoy!

warnings: antagonist/villain remus, panic, injury, blood, cliffhanger

previous chapters

-

In the time it took for everyone else to get worked into a panic, Logan had come up with a few theories on why, exactly, their connection with Thomas would be so suddenly muted.

Of course, many of those theories were only useful if they could be proven, and seeing as they  had a limited amount of time and space to work with, he could set them aside to figure out the direct, exact cause another time.

For now, the priority was finding their way back home. Once they were able to reconnect with their part of the mindscape, their connection with Thomas would also hopefully repair itself.

“Think of our current status as dealing with some temporary interference,” he told the others. “Once we leave the subconscious, our metaphorical signals should reach Thomas again.”

“‘Should?’” Anxiety asked, looking dubious.

“And how are we to leave when this shadowy scourge is thwarting our every escape attempt?” Roman added, glaring balefully up at Anxiety.

“Hey, you technically haven’t made any escapes yet, so I technically haven’t thwarted anything yet.” Anxiety ignored Roman’s exasperated expression with ease, shrugging. “Schrodinger’s Thwarting.”

“Anxiety, kiddo,” Patton stepped a little closer, pulling them all back on track, “I don’t think we should stay down here for too much longer. It’s not good for us to be disconnected from our rooms like this.”

“And that’s not even mentioning the fact that we don’t know how Thomas is functioning without his core sides connected to him,” Logan added, hoping that the other Side was in a reasonable mood.

Anxiety kept his face neutral, but Logan could see the little crease between his eyebrows and the way he went slightly paler. “It’s still too dangerous to risk without a plan.”

“And with a plan?” Logan pressed.

Anxiety’s shoulders bunched up even further, and for a moment he was worried he’d gone too far, but then the other Side let out an irritated sigh.

“If it’s actually that concerning, and I can more than imagine how it could be, then. I guess. We could try. With a plan,” he emphasized as Patton perked up excitedly. “One that I agree to.”

“That’ll only take us a lifetime,” Roman grumbled, but even he seemed revitalized now that they were getting somewhere.

Logan found himself getting excited as well. “In that case, I need all the information you have on routes to neutral territory and the weather cycles here.”

Anxiety materialized the data into files on a touchscreen phone, which would work quite efficiently as a display considering their size. “Good luck figuring anything out. This end of the mindscape is way more… chaotic. Stuff’s always changing.”

“I don’t mind a challenge,” Logan reassured him, and then set to work making spreadsheets and comparing trends. It was almost soothing.

In the background, he could hear Patton asking about who they were most likely to encounter if they attempted to beeline for the neutral zone, and Roman bartering for possession of his sword back. (The trade seemed to be settling on Anxiety handing over the sword in exchange for no stabbing and no nicknames for a week. Roman was perhaps more reluctant to stop generating witty quips than necessary.)

As Logan suspected, when Anxiety didn’t feel implicitly threatened by them, he was much more open. Though, that might have also been the exposure to Patton’s determined friendliness, which Anxiety seemed to eye with the wariness of a stray cat. He’d have to bring this up the next time they had a debate about the effectiveness of so many of Thomas’s Sides being hidden away.

Now wasn't the time for that, however. Now was the time for action, as Roman liked to proclaim.

“I’ve found the best path for us to take,” he announced, drawing all eyes to him.

Probably no time for an illustrative powerpoint to demonstrate how he’d come to this conclusion. Perhaps later. A summary of the plan would do fine.

Roman and Patton glanced up at the large side frequently, but Anxiety listened with a critical attentiveness that Logan found himself appreciating. At the end, his brow was furrowed, but he didn’t seem fully decided one way or the other.

“This plan will only work in our current time frame,” Logan cautioned. “As you said, the landscape of this place is always shifting, so we need to take advantage of the patterns that we can. I expect getting lost would not end well.”

Anxiety nodded, and then seemed to come to a decision.

“If you’re certain that it’s the best time… Fine, I’ll believe you.” Anxiety grumped, his body language already displaying several signs that he was growing nervous at the idea.

Logan blinked once, genuinely surprised that he had convinced the other Side, before regaining his composure. No time to be touched by Anxiety’s apparent faith in him. “All the data I reviewed points to this being the best opportunity.”

“One condition,” Anxiety said, holding up a finger. “If it seems like the plan has failed and things get dangerous, our backup plan is giving me access so I can rise up.”

Roman raised a sharp eyebrow, his sword once again sheathed at his side. “I seem to distinctly recall you freaking out about that idea?”

Anxiety made a face at him. “Yeah, and I’ll continue to not like it, but if it keeps you losers from getting discorporated, I’ll deal. Do you guys agree or not?”

Logan traded looks with the other two, and then nodded. “It’s a reasonable backup plan.”

“Sure,” Anxiety snorted, and then hesitated for a moment before reaching out and placing his uninjured hand palm up on the table next to them.

Patton plopped himself down immediately, but Roman wasn’t as eager.

“I am not going back in your pocket,” Roman told him, unimpressed. “Lint on my outfit is a no-no, let alone giant lint.”

“Your outfit is already ruined,” Anxiety snapped back, rolling his eyes. The blood on the white outfit somewhat resembled a candy cane.

Logan raised a hand to interject before it could become an argument. “If I may suggest, your hood seems like it would both give us more space and allow for a vantage point to watch your back.”

“I can watch my own back,” Anxiety growled, and then sighed. “Just don’t fall out.”

He was exceedingly careful as he reached behind him to the hood of his jacket, and the three of them had no problem getting in, though they did end up knocking a few limbs against each other in the process.

As Logan expected, it was much easier to grip the folds of the hoodie fabric and looking over the edge of it gave them a vertigo-inducing view.

“Okay,” Anxiety said, sounding as though he was speaking more to himself than them. “Let’s do this. It’s probably going to crash and burn horribly, but whatever.”

“Remind me to speak with you about cognitive distortions later,” Logan mused.

From where he was peeking over Virgil’s shoulder, Patton cheered. “Woohoo, you can do it!”

“With our talents to help, we can’t fail,” Roman added, making some sort of dramatic flourish that Anxiety couldn't even see. “Onwards!”

“What am I, a horse?” Anxiety shot back, and then firmed his shoulders slightly and stepped to his door. “Remember, low in the hoodie so you aren’t seen.”

After receiving a chorus of agreements, he took an audible breath and stepped through the door.

The hoodie bounced slightly against his back with every step, but nothing too jarring. Logan resisted the completely illogical urge to hold his breath as they descended the creaking stairs.

After a long moment, Anxiety’s shoulders lowered slightly. “Nobody’s down here.”

He picked his way carefully through the living area, until they were back where they started, at that huge, weathered front door. It seemed much less insurmountable from Anxiety’s eye level. The other Side grabbed the knob and pushed it open, stepping over the threshold.

They all let out a breath of relief.

From there, Logan’s attention was consumed with providing directions in a low mutter, carefully navigating their way through the shifting, fog-covered landscape. Patton occasionally pointed out a distant landmark he maybe recognized, mostly unhelpfully.

Still, all factors considered, they made it a fair distance before things went wrong.

Anxiety had just taken the first step over a wooden bridge when the hair-raising cackle split the air behind them. At Logan’s side, Roman latched onto his wrist with an iron grip.

Anxiety held still for a moment longer before turning around, his hands tucked into his pockets in a faux gesture of casualness. “Remus. I thought silently stalking people in the dead of night was too subtle for you?”

There was an unpleasant crack of bone that made Logan glad he couldn’t see Remus. “Wouldn’t want to scare the little emo and his little uninvited stowaways off, would I?”

The three of them exchanged panicked looks. He knew?

Anxiety took a step back, hissing in frustration. “Are you the reason they’re like this? Or Dee?”

Another cackle. “The enchantment was all me! Double D would ruin my fun if he knew. But you’re no spoilsport! I can already feel all the exciting new additions to this game you’re thinking up in that squishy grey matter of yours. We can have a little fun together! Whaddya say?”

Anxiety took another step back, his back twitching with the urge to turn and flee. “Remus. C’mon. Think about Thomas.”

The atmosphere suddenly darkened, sending a chill down Logan’s spine.

“Maybe he’s the one who should be thinking about us,” Remus said, the grin in his voice suddenly much more menacing. “I know you’re tired of being ignored, Anxiety. You’re just as sick of our snakey friend’s interference as I am. Without them, there will be space for us!”

“Thomas needs them,” Anxiety urged, his rough voice a sharp contrast to Remus’s singsong encouragement.

“Puh-lease, we’re not taking them away forever! The Core Bores are like cockroaches; you just can’t get rid of ‘em, even when you crush their little heads.” A thoughtful pause. “They’re just about cockroach-sized now, too!”

Roman’s grip grew painfully tight.

Anxiety shook his head, jostling them slightly, and then began to slowly back across the bridge. The tension in him seemed to scream that he wanted to turn tail and flee, give into his flight instinct. But he couldn’t turn without putting them directly in Remus’s line of sight.

“Don’t be so antsy! I know you want to be noticed as bad as I do,” Remus advanced with slow, predatory steps.

Anxiety was too far from the other end of the bridge. He’d be caught.

Logan made pointed eye contact with the others, and held his free hand out, palm down.

“What I want doesn’t matter here. It’s too risky! It’s. Not. Happening.” They were stepping faster now, the noise overlapping.

Patton nodded once, placing his own hand on top. They both looked to Roman.

“Aw, that’s what I never got about you, emo. You’re always too scared to jump in and grab the bull by the horns! A little goring can be its own kind of fun, y’know.”

Roman’s expression finally turned certain, and he slammed his own hand down, completing the stack.

All of them felt it when the balance shifted, and there was a heartbeat of stillness before everything erupted.

Anxiety turned on his heel and bolted, seconds before a manic, ear-splitting scream split the air from behind them.

“YOU’RE LEAVING US!”

“Rise up!” Roman screeched, clinging to the hood’s fabric for dear life. “Rise up!”

“I don’t know how!” Anxiety yelled back, ducking and weaving through the fog-filled forest that had formed around them. “I’m trying to— it’s not the same as just appearing!”

“You have to stay in one spot and focus,” Patton said, trying hard to keep his voice calm. “You can do this!”

Anxiety came to a standstill, and for a few breathless seconds, they waited.

“It’s… it’s not working!”

“Try and focus on where you want to appear. Let yourself rise, don’t try to control it—“ Logan caught a flicker of movement behind them. “Watch out!”

Anxiety twisted out of the way, a double headed axe thunking into the trunk of a nearby tree. He clenched his fists, closing his eyes tightly, and Logan finally felt the familiar sensation of their part of the mindscape dropping into place around them.

He caught one last glimpse of Remus, body twisted into a throwing gesture and gaze almost shocked, before the scene changed to their living room.

Anxiety staggered, face pale, and the lot of them ended up sprawled over the length of the staircase, ungraceful but undoubtedly home and the right size once more.

A moment spent catching their breath, and then.

“We made it!” Patton yelled, voice cracking in relief as he threw his arms out, laid out on his back.

From the carpeted landing he was still facedown on, Roman grunted an exhausted affirmation.

“It was a close call,” Logan said, pushing himself up and dusting his tie off. “We’ll need to take precautions for the future.”

“Good thing we have Anxiety!” Patton said brightly. “He’s an expert at precautionary measures!”

“As long as he doesn’t precaution Thomas into never going outside again,” Roman muttered, with no real aggression to his tone. He seemed just as glad that Anxiety had gotten them all out of there, if not more.

Anxiety didn’t rise to the bait. Logan turned to thank the other Side properly, and was met with the sight of him curled in over himself, a hunched over ball of hoodie. “... Anxiety?”

With a hoarse cry of pain, the Side yanked something from his side. A comically oversized throwing knife, drenched in a slick coating—

“Oh,” Anxiety said in a small voice, struggling to stem the bloodflow from the stab wound in his torso. “Shit.”

Within seconds, a dark stain began to spread, and Logan immediately lurched forwards, trying to seal the wound, erase it, even just put enough pressure on it to clot the bleeding—

Anxiety inhaled sharply. Nothing about the nature of the wound changed. It wasn’t healing. Logan’s hands were covered in warm-wet-red and nothing was healing.

Past the ringing in his ears, he could hear the others yelling behind him, trying to accelerate Anxiety’s integration into the conscious mind.

All he could focus on was Anxiety’s face, tight with pain and resignation.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, the hitch in his voice betraying him. “We can’t die. It’s fine. Can you— Can you feel Thomas?”

Logan nodded stitedly. The connection was faint, but growing stronger.

Anxiety nodded once, sharply. “Good. That’s— That’s all that matters.”

Then, like the question had been all that was keeping him awake, he went limp like a puppet with strings cut.