#I do wish I could like um express literally anything without um wanting to crawl into a hole about it

[bloomburnburial]

i have admitted a want and/or need. this is tantamount to admitting weakness. now i must go and fold my arms behind my back and contemplate the wall for the next six months

[arlert-angel]

love fast, die young ☪

♡ jean x fem!reader

❥ you know that at any moment your life could be cut short as a scout, and the last thing you want is to die a virgin, so why not ask your best friend that you’re in love with for some help?

❥ wc: 5.8k

❥ cw: near death experience (reader), virgin!reader and virigin!jean, cannonverse but no plot, loss of virginity, slight size kink, cream pie, aftercare, fluff

❥ note: i was invested in the story of this one lol, it's a lot more romantic than i initially intended. they’re aged up, but the cannonverse details don’t make sense for the plot, so let’s pretend it does yay.

Arriving back from expeditions was always an exhausting feat within itself, sometimes more so than the actual expedition. 

Commanding officers had to count their losses, healers had to tend to the wounded, and everyone who was good enough to stand had to report their kills and assists. Of course that was the immediate tasks that needed to take place, but then came the grief. Friends looked for one another, many people cried, and names could be heard shouted all around as everyone arrived at headquarters. 

You weren't that different, but you were silent as you scanned the crowd looking for your tall best friend. You knew he was with the best of the best in Levi's squad, so you weren't too worried. However, you also knew the previous best had been wiped out before the new group came. 

Anything could happen which made you all the more anxious. 

You and Jean were not on the same squad. You first were offered a position on the Levi squad with the rest of your friends, but then Hange handed picked you to help them with their experiments, claiming they needed your mind to work with them. Hange is very likeable and now one of your closest friends, and at the time it seemed impossible to say no to them.

Hange's and Levi's squad tended to work together a lot and definitely trained together, so you didn't miss your friends too much. It was only when expeditions approached and new formations were made, when you had to be separated from the rest of your 104th pals. 

You never complained about the separation. It wouldn't last forever, maybe a couple days at most, and then you return to laughing and working with the rest of your friends. You had no complaints until this particular expedition.

You had a close call.

In fact, so close, you might as well have kissed Death on the lips while you were so close to the afterlife. 

The mission was going according to plan. It was a simple scouting mission in the mountains that were, for the most part, titan free. Your squad was on the left flank of the formation, near the edge of the mountains. The cliff sides surrounding you guys held a beautiful, yet slightly scary view. The drop had to be at least 300 feet.

You should've known something bad was going to happen as soon as Hange called out, "Hey, Y/N, check it out!" But you weren't thinking that hard, for the day had been so peaceful. 

The path you all had taken was so close to the cliffs that the squad was riding single file for safety. There was enough room to pass one another, but you had to do so very carefully. 

You rode ahead, passing Moblit. You sent him a questioning look as went by, but he only shrugged, not knowing what Hange was raving over. When you slid off your horse and next to Hange you saw what they did.

A very large cave.

"Should we go inside?" Hange looked at you, clearly excited, but it was an awful idea.

"No!" You tried to sound stern, knowing how they needed a firm rejection or they'd always get what they wanted, "Do you see the size of the thing? This looks like a comfy home for a 10 meter titan, maybe even 15 meter class if they hunched over."

"Do you think they'd crawl around in there?!" Their eyes widened and the familiar look that you've seen so many times on their face appeared. It was their usual expression they had when you conducted experiments with them. You swore to yourself how you fed their curiosity on accident.

"What's going on?" Moblit now arrived, wondering what the hold up was about.

"They want to go inside that death trap," You pointed at the ominous cavern in front of you all. 

"You cannot be serious!" Moblit exclaimed in surprise, the volume echoing down the stone and dirt walls. Moblit continued his rant, stating the obvious, but you tuned their debate out. You just stared into what looked like an abyss. 

There was no movement, no noise, not even the breeze seemed to reach here.

But for some reason you had a gut feeling. A gut feeling that saved all of your lives.

"Move!" You shoved Hange into Moblit which effectively knocked them both to the side of the cave and used your ODM gear to swing yourself to the opposite side. 

The large hand reached out as you tried to get out of the way, but because you helped the others you weren't quick enough.

Luckily, the titan's grasp only managed to get tangled in your ODM wire and couldn’t quite reach your actual body. 

Unluckily, the titan was managing to drag you like a ragdoll and if you didn't do anything quickly you would be engulfed in the darkness where it was hidden, and then probably engulfed in it’s stomach. 

You had to think quick on your feet and so you drew your blades and slashed the wire on your gear all together. You could've attempted to slash at it's hands, but that was no guarantee. The wire was sliced with a clean snip.

Now you were free, you stumbled back at the loss of momentum. You took one two many steps back, and that last step didn't hit the gravely earth that the others had. 

Your foot didn't hit anything at all. 

You were about to fall off a cliff. 

Ironic to escape death one way only to quite literally fall into its clutches another way. 

But, you didn't fall. 

Your eyes were squeezed shut in absolute terror, and when you opened them at the lack of free fall, you saw Hange.

They had managed to save you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back on solid ground. Moblit had been keeping the titan at bay, and continued to do so as you and everyone else turned their horses carefully around. 

Thanks were shared by yourself, Hange, and Moblit at the different lucky saves. They praised your quick thinking and response. None of you actually saw the titan coming. You just knew. You seemed to recognize the familiar feeling of dread from the presence of a titan that wanted to eat you. Even if you couldn’t see it. 

Hange continuously apologized on the way back, but it wasn’t really their fault. It’s not like you actually entered the cave like they wanted. And it was probably a good thing you guys stopped when you did. If the group rode past the cave something worse might have happened.  

After that close call you wanted nothing more to find your best friend and have his familiar comfort.

"Y/N? Whatcha still doing out here?" You spun around quickly and saw Connie. 

“Oh, hey! I’m just looking for Jean, have you seen him?” You didn’t want to panic, but it was weird to see Connie without Jean. 

“Yeah! Mikasa killed this titan that had snuck up right above us and it’s blood got all over Jean it was so funny he screamed like a girl. But yeah, he went to the showers immediately,” Connie explained laughing at the memory. You laughed along and wished you could see it yourself.

“That’s funny, I should probably shower too, this mission felt particularly long,” You grumbled more to yourself than Connie, but he picked up on your off tone.

“Did something happen?” He asked genuinely concerned. You might’ve been closest to Jean, but Connie and Sasha were also very close to you. The four you always had the most fun together, and got in the most trouble. 

“Kind of, a titan snuck up on us too, but we were near the cliffs so there wasn’t all lot of room to work with. I almost fell, but on the bright side I overcame my fear of heights,” You laughed, but it was more anxious than joyful.

“Oh shit, that’s awful!” Connie’s eyes widened in horror, “I'll tell Jean to come find you when I see him.”

“What why?”

“You were looking for him right? He’d definitely want to know that you’re okay after that. He worries a lot, you know? It’s always: I hope Y/N okay, where’s Hange’s squad again, I wish Y/N was here, Y/N would love this view. Someone has to tell him to shut up at least once every expedition.” Connie actually did an okay Jean impression as he ranted to you, but you didn’t comment on it. 

You were too surprised. You didn’t know Jean worried about you. He never once came to you with any fears about expeditions. He always asked you what happened, but that’s just a normal conversation. It wasn’t too strange for someone’s best friend to think about them when apart. What was strange was the happy feeling you got knowing that Jean couldn’t shut up about you. A weird fluttery feeling danced in your stomach and you felt almost giddy.  

Connie noticed your lack of response and noticeably paled. 

“Fuck, wait, I didn’t tell you that! Jean’s gonna kill me, Y/N please don’t tell him I told you!” He grabbed onto you, begging. He shook you enough that it got you out of your confusing thoughts.

“Um, okay? I don't see what the big deal is. I think about Jean on expeditions too, that’s not weird right?” You smiled reassuringly and Connie’s whole body sagged in relief.

“Not at all! Have a nice shower!” Connie ran away, actually ran, trying to separate himself from that conversation. He thanked the Walls that you couldn’t read between the lines. 

After that odd conversation you got a change of clothes and towel, and then headed towards the showers. You passed Sasha and Mikasa on the way in and they both gave you pleasant greetings, all parties glad to see each other alive and well.

You tried not to overthink, but the hot shower gave you all the time to do so.

Your thoughts jumped from almost dying, to Jean, to these overwhelming feelings you seemed to harbor.

You knew you loved Jean. You both even told each other sometimes. Your mind never wandered further than viewing Jean as your best friend only because you didn’t think that’s what he’d want. 

When you first met Jean you had a small crush on him, admiring him from afar until Marco introduced the two of you. Once you grew closer and noticed his infatuation with Mikasa your feelings sizzled out in a bitter simmer. Your bitterness didn’t last long though, you were happy you had someone to rely on no matter what. After Marco passed, Jean was your crutch and vise versa. Romance would only make things confusing and besides you didn’t have any experience in the matter. 

But now as you think more and more about him you wondered if those feelings ever went away. You thought about his laugh and stupid tone he gets when he tries to act cocky. You thought about his eyes and how pretty they look in the sunlight. You thought about his ability to read your mind without you having to tell him something’s wrong. He was your person. 

You came to the conclusion that there definitely was something more than platonic there, but there was no certainty he felt the same. He would’ve said something by now. When he liked Mikasa he was so obvious, openly talking about her to everyone. You would’ve known something by now if it were the case, right? You knew he didn’t like Mikasa now, he told you explicitly for some reason, stating you needed to know. He also didn’t talk about liking anybody new. 

Sighing in frustration, you turned off the shower, now squeaky clean. What was supposed to be a relaxing shower just stressed you out because of your stupid brain’s overthinking. 

And it didn’t stop. As you dropped your messy uniform in the laundry, it reminded you of the day.   

Today proved that any moment could be your last. Being in the scouts has always been dangerous, and you knew you were a disposable soldier. You didn’t mind it much, but now you realized how little you had experienced. You had never been drunk, your only kiss was with Marco in a game of truth or dare, and you were a virgin. 

You didn’t want to die a virgin.

You thought of Jean. You wanted to be with him at least once before you died. You didn’t want to die without knowing how it felt to have everything with Jean. Your love for him definitely wasn’t platonic. You didn’t want to die without him knowing.

Your mind made up, you walked the halls with a little more determination than usual. You wandered around for only a couple minutes before running into Eren.

“Horseface is looking for you,” He pointed around the corner. You gave a quick thanks before quickly going in that direction only to collide with the person you were searching for.

“Y/N!” Jean surprised you by pulling you in a tight hug. As he pulled away he took note of the blush that was now on your cheeks, but didn’t comment. He also didn’t let you go completely, leaving his hands on your shoulders. Unable to help himself.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” You smiled genuinely, only slightly nervous now. Even with the giddiness he gave you, he still managed to calm you down.

“Me too, Connie said something happened with your squad, so I asked Hange about it and they told me everything,” His eyebrows were pulled into a worried furrow, “I wish you were in our squad.”

“Me too, but I like being with Hange too,” You stated honestly, “But it’s alright, everything worked out in the end.” 

“Yeah, but you almost fell off a cliff! Y/N if I lost you I’d…” He cleared his throat before shaking himself out of his thoughts, “I’m just glad you’re okay. You said you were looking for me, what for?”

“Oh! Um…” You looked around and saw Eren eavesdropping blatantly with a knowing look, causing you to quickly turn back around, “Can I talk to you in my room about something?” You shift your weight from side to side, visibly jittery. 

���Sure?” Jean was confused and noted you looked more flustered than before, but he couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong like he usually could. 

You walked side by side, passing Eren along the way who gave you both a smug wave. When Jean wasn’t looking you turned around and gave him the finger. The walk was silent and your hands brushed each other softly.

Once you were behind closed doors you felt yourself relax a little more. It was just Jean, you hyped yourself up. Even if he did reject you the worst thing that could happen is him make a stupid joke out of everything, but you doubt he would. You knew he at least respected you.

“So, what’s so serious that you needed to be away from nosy Yeager?” So he did see that ass listening, you thought. 

“Well… You know about my close call today… It got me thinking,” You started safely.

“You can think? Like, there’s a brain in there?” Jean acted surprised and grabbed your head teasingly.

“Shut up,” You laughed and slapped his hands away before adding, “It’s serious.”

“Okay,” He took a seat on your bed comfortably, an action that was not unusual, you hung out in each other’s room all the time. He gave you his full attention, no longer joking around.

“I thought about how at any moment we can die, that sounds morbid, but it’s true. And then I thought about all the stuff I haven’t done and all the things I haven’t said,” You explained further, still not getting to the point. 

“So, you want to make a bucket list?” Jean tilted his head, trying to follow, “That’d be fun.”

“No,” You rolled your eyes lovingly, “I, more specifically, thought about all the stuff we haven’t done together.” 

“Oh, you want to make a bucket list together!” Jean perked up.

“Jean stop trying to guess and let me explain,” You laughed and he complied, pretending to zip his lips shut.

“Jean,” You approached the man, invading his personal space, “I don’t want to die a virgin, do you?”

“No…” Jean blushed at the sudden topic change, wondering why on earth you were bringing that up right now.

“And…  I love you, and I know you'd treat me right,” You cupped his cheeks in your hands. You were standing in between his legs now, him leaning back on his hands looking up at you. He was tall, so he didn’t have to tilt his neck that much. 

“I love you too, what are you going on about?” His face was drawn in clear confusion, a cute expression, if he wasn’t being so frustrating. 

“No, Jean,” You leaned impossibly close, your face right in front of his, “I’m in love with you.” 

Then you boldly straddled him before you planted your lips on him.

You were shy, unsure if he would reciprocate the kiss, and it seemed like he wasn’t.  You panicked instantly. Your heart was pounding and you pulled away. You were terrified you screwed everything up. You looked at him and he seemed to be frozen.

“Jean?” You worriedly looked at your catatonic friend whose eyes were wide in shock, “I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry! Please don’t hate me!” You began to try to climb off him, but his hands shot to your hips, holding you in place.

“Y/N, you’re in love with me?” He still seemed to be stunned, or maybe he didn’t believe you, but he held your gaze with serious eyes. 

“Yes,” You made sure to keep eye contact despite the heat that rose to your cheeks, to make sure he knew you were dead serious. 

“Good,” One of his hands left your hips to your cheek. He guided your mouth back to his.

He was kissing you. He was actually kissing you. It was slow and sweet at first. He stroked your cheek lovingly and your lips slowly moved in sync. It was when you repositioned yourself on his lap, accidently grinding into him, when the kisses started to become more feverish. He groaned into your mouth and the hand left your face and found it’s new home on your ass. He squeezed it harshly, making you gasp. He took the opportunity to introduce his tongue to yours. He surprised you when he sucked on your tongue, making a small whimper escape you. 

Jean pulled away, taking in your flustered state with blown pupils of his own. Both of your lips were swollen and you both needed to catch your breath. 

“I love you too, you know?” Jean pushed some of your hair out of your face with a soft smile, “I figured you didn’t feel the same and wanted to just be friends, so I didn’t say anything.”

“I thought the same, or that you might still like Mikasa,” You admitted shyly, looking down where your bodies met.

“Hey,” He tilted your chin so you held eye contact again, “That was a stupid crush when I was kid, and I told you that ended a long time ago, didn't I? I’m in love with you.”

“We were so stupid keeping it to ourselves,” You laughed and Jean openly admired you in what looked like awe. His gaze made you feel bashful, almost wanting to hide your face with your hands.

“We were, I could have been kissing you so much sooner,” Jean mumbled, already leaning back to you. This time when your lips met your tongues danced together immediately. You knew Jean also didn't have much experience, but with the way he kissed it seemed like he did. 

"Did you mean what you said?" Jean pulled away only for a moment to ask before returning right back to your lips. 

You pulled away, trying to decipher what he was referring to. "Wha–" Your breath hitched when you felt Jean kiss your pulse on your neck. He began sucking on a particular spot that made you moan, surprising both of you. 

"You're so beautiful," He commented then explained, "Did you mean what you said about that virgin stuff?" He seemed shy all of sudden, his hands were sliding from your hips to your thighs, almost like he was trying to soothe himself.

"I meant every word," You said honestly, "I want to experience all of you."

"God," Jean seemed to like that statement, "I don't know what I'm doing, so just know I'm learning as I go. Just tell me what you like and don't like."

"Of course," You gave him a reassuring smile, "I'm not worried, I trust you."

"Good," He said again before spinning you around and lightly throwing you on your bed. He hovered over you, not putting much, if any weight on you. He resumed the make out session, but this time letting his hands wander.

He first tugged at your shirt, which you helped him quickly pull over your head. You hadn't worn a bra, assuming your plans for this evening were eating then just passing out. 

Jean seemed to drink your body in, just staring in lust and awe. 

"You can touch me," You tried to sound reassuring, but it sounded more like a beg. 

Jean took your breasts in his large hands and just felt you. You almost laughed at how mesmerized he looked, but that was when he latched his mouth on your nipple. That action seemed to send a current of electricity straight to the heat in between your legs. You arched your back and let out a surprised moan which made Jean quickly pull away. 

"Did I hurt you?" He looked scared.

"No, it feels good," You murmured as you unconsciously rolled your hips wanting friction.

"Oh, that's good," He shot you a grin before throwing his own shirt to the side. He went back to kissing your chest, this time his hand tweaked the nipple he wasn't sucking on, causing even more pleasure. You bit your lip only letting out whimpers, a little embarrassed of moaning so loudly again. 

"J-Jean," You stuttered out, gripping his broad shoulders.

"Hmm?" He hummed, he had been having fun leaving purple marks across your tits.

"I-I need…" You didn't finish.

"What do you need, princess?" He asked genuinely, but his deep tone sent shivers down your spine.

"More, I don't know," You admitted.

"Okay, don't worry," He gave you a peck, "I'll take care of you."

He began taking off your pants, helping you get them off your ankles. He stood to take off his own pants as you admired him. His body was so toned from the life of being a soldier. As you took him all in your eyes landed on the bulge that was very prominent in his briefs and for the first time you felt nerves about having sex with him. 

"Jean, how the hell is that supposed to fit in me?" You didn't even see it out of it's cage, you couldn't imagine that monster in action. 

"It has to fit right? People have sex all the time," Jean looked down at his own dick before looking at your panties with a frown, "I'll make sure to stretch you out with my fingers to help."

"What do you mean?" You blushed as Jean returned his body on top of you, giving you warmth again. This time putting a little more weight than last time. You could feel his restrained cock against you this time. 

"You know, fingering, you've done it to yourself before right?" Jean asked curiously. 

"I've tried, but I couldn't reach any particular spots that made me feel good, so I mostly just got off with my clit," You explained, a little embarrassed. 

"Well, I have long fingers," Jean began to slip off your last item of clothing. You gulped nervously, you now were exposed completely to him.

"So pretty, and you're wet," He groaned and looked back up to you, "Open your mouth."

You almost asked why, but you didn't want to kill the mood, so you complied. Jean slid two fingers into your mouth and you got the message. You wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks, sucking on them. 

"Fuck," He sighed out and you felt him twitch against you. 

He pulled his fingers out and moved them back between your legs. He first slowly thrusted one finger inside you, to get you used to the unfamiliar feeling. The stretch wasn't too painful, and he was definitely right. His fingers were longer. 

He moved the one finger in and out of you slowly at first, picking up the pace as he continued. When he felt you relax completely he added a second finger. This time the stretch was a little more, making you tense.

"You're so tight," Jean was watching your pussy in wonder and slid his body down, so his face was near it. 

"What are you– Oh my God," Jean's lips sucked on your clit softly, then continuously kitten licked it, all while maintaining his finger thrusts.

"You taste good," Jean said it so casually, you'd think he was talking about the weather. He removed his fingers for a moment to get a better taste. He kissed you directly on your cunt before penetrating you with his tongue. He moaned against you, sending vibrations into you. You tried to unconsciously escape the pleasure, your thighs attempting to close, but Jean's large hands held you down. 

He returned his fingers inside you and this time adding a third. It stung more than before, but Jean's mouth on your clit made you forget all about the uncomfortableness. He began curling his fingers inside you reaching a spot that instantly had a knot forming in your stomach. Your hands shot around you, one gripping the sheets and the other in Jean's hair. 

He latched onto clit again and you gave up on trying to quiet your moans, embarrassment be damned, it felt too good.

"Jean," You moaned his name, which only made him moan back in return, "I-I'm going to…" You whined a little, not quite there yet, but right on the edge.

"You're going to cum?" Jean asked, not even completely pulled away from your clit to do so, "Go ahead and cum on my fingers, baby." He quickened his strokes and returned to your clit. It was just enough to send you over.

You grinded into his hand and cried out. Jean moaned too as if he was being pleasured just at the sight of you or maybe it was because of the sensation of your tight pussy clamping around his fingers. He couldn't help himself and licked up some of your release, making you jump. 

He moved back up to you with a content smile, "Did that feel good?" 

"Yeah," You smiled back through half lidded eyes, still buzzing from the pleasure.

He gave you a deep kiss and you could taste yourself on him. Tasting your own saccharine flavor was strangely erotic. 

Jean pulled away, "Is it alright if I take my cock out?" He asked beforehand just in case you changed your mind. 

"Yeah, of course, I want to see the monster that's going to destroy me," You joked and earned yourself a cocky smirk.

Jean took off the only clothing that was separating the two of you. You glanced down and saw his size more visibly now. You were right to be intimidated before, he was huge. Jean seemed to take note of your apprehensive expression so he returned to giving you some kisses in order to soothe you. 

“We’ll take it slow and if it’s too much just tell me,” Jean assured you which helped calm you down. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” Your eyes met as he began to rub the head up and down between your folds, collecting its wetness. He rubbed it over your clit and back down, making you feel particularly tingly. When he started pushing the head inside you had to remind yourself to not tense up, but it was hard. He was stretching a lot more than his fingers did. His cock added an unfamiliar pressure inside you that his fingers didn’t.

“God, that’s just the head and you're already squeezing me,” Jean threw his head back trying to regain composure. It was also his first time and he did not want to embarrass himself by finishing quickly. Also the gentlemen inside him wanted to feel you cum around him first.

He slowly continued to push further in as you grabbed his arms to brace yourself. When he finally bottomed out you swore you could see the bulge on your tummy. He kept still and waited for you to give him the go ahead even though he had the incredible urge to just thrust forward.

“You alright?” Jean's voice was more strained than usual.

“Yeah, why the fuck you gotta be so big, Jean,” Which only made Jean smile and give an apology kiss. You took a few more moments getting used to the stretch when the pleasure overtook the pain. You felt the veins on his cock inside you. You felt so full, but so good. You grinded into him trying to feel more and Jean noticed.

“I’m going to start moving now,” Jean warned and began pulling back before snapping his hips forward. You both cried out how he filled you up, your walls fluttering around him.

The pace was unrushed and steady to begin with. He withdrew his cock only to plunge it back into you, hitting you deep, in a repetitive matter. You felt the pleasure everywhere, all the way in your toes. 

You started meeting his thrusts, moving your hips in order to do so. Jean hitched your leg higher which only made you feel him deeper, hitting a sweet spot that caused you to gasp.

“You can go faster,” You said breathlessly, “Please, Jean, it feels so good.”

“Fuck,” Jean moaned back, his slow deep thrusts turned into a quick pounding. He continuously hit that new spot every time. Your whimpers turned into uncontrollable moans. Not wanting to make too much noise you buried yourself into the crook of his neck, sucking and biting his skin. 

You briefly looked down where your bodies met and saw him pumping out of you, your slick covering his cock and your thighs. The sight made your eyes roll back into your head.

“Please,” You moaned into Jean who brought his hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Please, what? What do you want, princess?” He grunted a bit after, not once did he lose his pace.

“I want… Ah… Please, I don’t know,” You felt like you could cry, you were right on the edge. You didn’t know what you needed, but you felt too good to try to figure it out. You figured he was close too by the way he was twitching inside your pussy and his thrusts became a little more desperate. 

“Open,” Jean brought his fingers back to your mouth, groaning at the sensation. He kept them there for a few more moments than necessary, just enjoying the way you looked with your pretty lips wrapped around him. 

Then he brought them between your legs and began rubbing your clit at the same pace he was thrusting into you.

“J-Jean, I’m gonna cum,” You grabbed his wrist, almost overwhelmed by the feeling. 

You cried out his name as your pussy milked him, triggering his own release. He groaned your name as he came. You felt the warmth of him spill deep inside you and it made your pussy tremble all the more. He gave a few final thrusts before slumping on top of you.

“Look at me while you cum, princess, come on, cum on my cock,” He encouraged you. You held eye contact for as long as you could, but when that coil in your tummy snapped you had to squeeze your eyes shut in absolute bliss.

“We definitely should’ve done that sooner,” He mumbled into your hair, making you giggle.

“Definitely,” You echoed back.

He slid out of you after that, making both of your bodies shudder at the loss of connection. You pussy still trying to pulse around something.

“I just showered,” You commented with a frown, looking at the mess between your legs. 

“I’ll go get a towel?” Jean offered, and you gave him a nod. He redressed quickly, kissed you deeply, then stated he would be back soon.

You threw your shirt back on while you waited. You felt so sleepy after that. Even though you wanted to feel clean, you wished you cuddled with Jean some more, already missing him.

After a couple more minutes the silence was broken.

 “I knew it!” You heard Eren’s familiar voice shout from outside your door and you sat up confused.

“Shut the fuck up before I hit you!” You heard Jean’s voice shout back and then a few more quieter exchanges that you couldn’t make out from the two men. Then your door opened fast, Jean slipping quickly inside, locking it behind him. In one hand he had a warm towel and in the other he had a new set of sheets. 

“What happened?” You pointed at the door and Jean scowled.

“Apparently those assholes bet on when we’d finally hook up,” Jean explained before cleaning you up. You blushed as he took care of you. Despite what just took place you still felt embarrassed. Jean noticed and just pecked your cheeks.

“That’s kind of funny, we should’ve placed our own bets,” You hummed and stood shakily, grabbing a new pair of underwear as Jean changed your sheets for you. 

“I can’t believe Eren won,” Jean frowned, but when your arms wrapped around him from behind he couldn’t help but smile.

“Will you stay with me? I kind of want to nap,” You mumbled into his back.

“Of course,” You both returned to your bed this time with more innocent intentions.

Jean laid on his back and you threw your arm around his chest and your leg over his, snuggling up into his side.

“I don’t want to die,” You murmured sleepily.

“You won’t,” Jean stated firmly.

“How do you know?” You looked up at him.

“Because we both have something to live for,” He met your gaze softly, before kissing your head again.

You told each other you loved another once again before you both fell asleep. It was a sleep where neither of you had the common nightmare about your untimely deaths. 

Instead it was a sleep where you both dreamt of the future you now could have with one another.

[dekalko-mania]

Things That Lurk in the Dark (Pt. 1)

Amity changed the day the portal opened, in more ways than one.

....

As a young child, Danny had an immense fear of the dark, so severe that he had slept with his parents until they'd attached glowing stars to his ceiling and assured him there was nothing wrong. He'd assumed the problem was no longer there, pushed aside by the many other obstacles he'd faced in his past year of ghost-fighting.

He'd assumed wrong, it seemed, when he began to once again see the shadows in a sinister light.

Danny had first attributed it to his increasing paranoia, an overactive imagination fueled by being constantly alert. He was used to seeing things that were not there upon second glance, accustomed to jumping at any figure he saw from his peripheral vision. This was different, he knew, when he found himself knocking on Jazz's door more often, asking if he could sleep on her floor.

"This is the third night in a row, are you sure you're okay?"

His sister asked the question every night without fail, despite only ever receiving a lie as an answer. His nightmares were back, that was his response, knowing all too well that to get them he would have to have slept at all.

He lay awake that night, lulled into a rare sense of calm by Jazz's soft breaths. Maybe if he counted them, like one counted sheep, he could finally rest.

He planned on doing just that, when a familiar humming filled the room, coming from beside his sister's desk. He sat up, head snapping in the direction of the intrusion as tendrils of darkness formed into abstract shapes.

He stared, not daring to take a breath as he waited. Tonight, he would let it be for longer, observe first and then shoot after. As he watched, cold waves of terror creeping up his spine, the shadows formed into what looked like a door.

He had previously predicted they would become something outright threatening, a creature that lurked in pitch black, or a hand creeping out from beneath their wooden floors. This was somehow much worse, a gateway from who knows where, into their world.

Getting on all fours, he crawled forward, reaching out towards the handle. Before he could make contact, it began to jiggle, beginning as a gentle side to side, and rapidly shifting into an aggressive attempt to enter.

Without sparing a thought, he lit a fire on his palms, green and incredibly bright to ward the door away. That somehow always seemed to work, destroying whatever fragile arrangement had made its place near him.

Deciding that sleep was out of the picture, he shifted into a sitting position, keeping his eyes out for any more potential threats. The following morning, Jazz found him that way, both hands set ablaze and drooping eyes filled with apprehension.

....

It had been difficult explaining away Jazz’s worry, even more difficult to explain to Sam and Tucker why he was acting so strangely. He had grown as Phantom, realized that when facing his fears it was better to be strong and fight through them. If he let his guard down, people would be hurt. 

Yet, somehow, after literally facing death, he found himself once again fighting against a childhood fear. It was humiliating, having to admit it, so he kept it hidden as best as he could.  

"Daniel!"

Danny shot up, snatching the arm waving in front of him on instinct, earning a series of giggles from the class. He tightened his grip, realizing that the lights had been dimmed in the time he'd been nodding off. Already, in that short time frame, he was beginning to see the darkness curling into itself like smoke, caressing the walls in unnatural shades. Surely someone had to have noticed?

"What, he’s gonna fight the teacher now?"

"Loser."

Danny took a sharp intake of air, seeing who exactly the arm belonged to. With an apologetic expression, he released Mr. Lancer’s wrist, lowering his head and mustering the most sincere “sorry” he was capable of in his current state.

“It’s alright, I’ve faced worse at PTA meetings,” Lancer grunted, upset but with a kind tone. “I noticed you dozed off. I know educational movies aren’t preffered, but unless you pay attention, you’re going to fail the upcoming exam.” 

“I’m sorry,” Danny repeated. “It’s just, the lighting here is making it hard to stay awake. Could we maybe flip a switch?” 

Danny did his best to hide the tremor in his voice, all too aware that the gaze of Dash and co. were pinned onto him. Lancer, unaware, surveyed his student, face unreadable as he apparently didn’t like what he saw.

In a low mutter, he told Danny to grab his backpack and wait for him in his office. As someone who had been sent there countless times in the past, he needed no direction, quietly making his way out of the classroom with a mental groan at seeing Dash smirk in his direction.

Great, among his cryptic visions he would now have to deal with his long-time bully. 

Danny leaned against the lockers, running his hand along them for stability in the all too quiet hallway. The humming was everywhere, within the walls, under the cracks in empty classrooms. Anywhere scarce of light, they always lingered, the vague figures, never tangible except for the doors. The longer he stared at one spot, the more Danny noticed them.

They had always been there, waiting for him to spot, knobs twisting as the unknown tried to worm themselves inside of him. They appeared to him as Fenton the most, weak human Fenton, rendered useless with limited access to his ghost powers. He’d found himself growing bitter of this half of him more as of late, wishing that he could always carry the confidence of Phantom, the fearlessness. 

He pushed open the office door more aggressively than he’d intended, dumping himself onto a leather chair with a heavy sigh. He inspected the room in his wait for Lancer, fingers twitching with impatience. The man meant well, setting him aside from a situation that obviously made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t find it within himself to appreciate it just yet.

Maybe he would be more grateful if the humming would stop. He clasped his hands over his ears, overwhelmed by the frustrating noise that never ceased to grate on his nerves. As if taunting him, the sound seemed to travel through the flimsy barrier his fingers provided, emanating from his right side.

Thump, thump, thump

He glanced over to the source, teeth clenching at the old storage cabinet that filled his vision. Its drawers rattled, forcing themselves open, before crashing closed. 

The surreal qualities of Amity were everywhere, strongest in the darkest places. Objects disappearing in the blink of an eye, room layouts changing completely on a daily basis, all things that the residents should’ve noticed. But no one did, not even his family or closest friends. 

He was alone, the only one who was aware of his bizarre surroundings, now stuck in a room with a seemingly haunted cabinet. Danny stood, shifting into a fighting position. 

“Whoever you are, get out of there right now!” 

The slamming stopped, relieving him for a minute, before restarting again with increasing vigor. It was like it was mocking him, the whole town was. 

“Cut it out! I can’t deal with this crap anymore!” He readied a blast, uncaring if he would get detention for the rest of the year. “I’ll give you until three-”

The rattling came to an end, leaving the room quiet except for the ticking of a clock on the wall. 

“I can’t believe that actually worked.” He relaxed his posture, though only by a margin as he’d learned to never underestimate his luck’s ability to run thin.

“Daniel?” 

He jumped, realizing Lancer must’ve walked in while his student was glaring at the cabinet. He stuffed his hands into his pocket, attempting to seem unfazed. 

“Was that you yelling? I could hear it from the hallway.” 

“Um, yeah sorry. I thought there was a ghost.”

“Is that what it is?” Lancer closed the door, gesturing for him to sit down. “I wanted to talk to you about your behavior lately. You’ve been more taciturn than usual, perhaps it’s due to the increase in ghost activity?”

Huh, so there were some who had noticed something odd, even though it wasn’t to the full extent. Danny thought for a moment, testing the waters. Maybe Lancer saw more than he let on, noted the gradual changes to their city. 

Quietly, uncertain with his teacher’s response, Danny spoke. “I’m fine. Things have just been a little odd lately, besides the ghosts.”

“Well, I have an hour until my next class. Perhaps you can explain it to me,” Lancer leaned forward, showing his undivided attention. “You’ve been doing well this semester, I don’t want us going back to square one.”

Danny thought back to his freshmen year, bombarded with the change of his lifetime, having absolutely no time for his assignments or anything else in between. It was an arduous effort adjusting to his new life, or half life, and he wasn’t keen on losing control of everything he’d worked so hard for. 

“No, I don’t want to either. It’s the changes that are bothering me, I think. Amity.” He glanced over at Lancer’s face, eyeing any changes in expression. 

“I don’t think I follow.” He looked slightly confused. 

At this point, Danny would’ve usually given up, swept the issue under the rug and moved on with his day. He didn’t enjoy sharing his emotions, his burdens, but he just needed to know that there wasn’t something wrong with him, that someone else could see it too. 

“Don’t you ever see...I don’t know, weird things that shouldn’t be happening? Maybe hear noise and see light under a door, but walk in and there’s nothing there?” He steeled himself, looking up to meet Lancer directly in the eye, hoping that the man saw that he was speaking with clarity. “Or have you ever been behind a locked door and felt that someone was trying to get in? Or the dark...that’s where it’s the worst. Do you see any of that?”

“I can’t say I do, Daniel.” Lancer frowned. “And if that was the case, I would say it was the ghosts.” 

“But it’s not the ghosts. I know it’s not them.” His ghost sense would’ve gone off by now. “Entire buildings shift positions at night, there’s this dark fog everywhere. I know it sounds crazy-”

Lancer held up a hand. “I’ll have to stop you there. Nothing is ever too far fetched in this place, and I don’t like my students discrediting themselves before they get a chance to fully speak.” He paused, considering, before continuing with a grim tone. “Look, I know you won’t particularly like this answer, but do you think it possible you’re being haunted? It’s not unheard of for ghosts to become attached to a host here.”

“I don’t...” It wasn’t possible for ghosts to haunt other ghosts, was it?

“Before you decide, I suggest you talk to your parents. I know people your age don’t like to approach them for help, but they’re the biggest paranormal experts in town. You’ll find a solution there.”

Realizing that was the best response he was going to get, Danny slumped into his seat, disillusioned. “Alright, I’ll try bringing it up to them tonight.” 

“Good, and in the meantime, you know my office hours. I’m always open to helping you catch up.”

....

Danny had absolutely no intention of approaching his parents about his findings, confronting them was his very last resort. He remembered the incident with Youngblud, how their first instinct was to scare the crazy out of him, and he wasn’t keen on repeating it. 

Still, Lancer had unintentionally given him an idea, one he was surprised he hadn’t thought of before. If by any chance something was going on in Amity and his parents knew about it, they were sure to have kept data, information that the entire Fenton family was privy to. His parents were unconventional in the sense that their work was not kept secret from their children, all security activated by fingerprints or face recognition. 

It was, he knew, done with the hope that their kids would become just as interested in the study of the paranormal as they were. It was also, what they did not know, partly responsible for contributing to his accident. 

After double checking that his parents were not home, he snuck down to the lab, beelining his way to their work computer. As expected, it was easy as usual to log in, endless arrays of information at his disposal. To an untrained eye, his parent’s work was disorganized, even Vlad had said so. But he knew better, knew his way around their strangely named folders like he was reading the table of contents in a nonfiction novel. 

Ghost profiles, weaponry charts, data on present, past, and future projects, new developments...there. 

He clicked on the folder, apprehensive as it took a moment to load. Once it did, it took only a glance to tell that something was very, very wrong.

Unnatural levels of ectoplasm in the air, measurements at a high of-

Cognitive dissonance experienced by a reported 1 in 10 Amity citizens, signs of-

Missing teen, Ross Lucas, 16 years old, blonde hair, blue eyes, last seen in Amity Forest Reserve-

Polluted lake at Amity Central Park, no side effects reported, but water glows green-

Missing woman, 37 years old, brown hair, brown eyes, last seen in Amity Forest Reserve-

Reported disorientation, home layout changed. Upon further questioning, memory loss is reported, no reminder of filing the report-

Minor detail: green tint to sky at certain points of the day-

Missing man, 22 years old, brown hair, brown eyes, last seen in Amity Forest Reserve-

Poltergeist activity, Amity Police Station-

Missing teen, Jenny Lee, 15 years old-

Missing-

Missing-

-last seen in Amity Forest Reserve

From above, Danny heard the telltale rattle of the front door opening, lumbering footsteps and daintier ones tapping along the tile.

Acting on impulse, Danny shut down the computer, turning invisible and keeping quiet in case his parents approached. Sure enough, he heard them nearing the lab after a minute of rustling. He stood, holding his breath, while the Fenton’s chatter got nearer as they appeared. He noted that his dad carried a briefcase, unusual for a man who preferred his casual attire, one with the Amity Police Department seal along the bottom corner.

After what he had seen, he could only stare at the case in apprehension.

“Let’s handle this before the kids are home, Jack. I don’t want to scare them.”

“Why can’t we tell them? It’s dangerous right now, Mads. Vladdie wouldn’t risk the safety of his god kids for this.”

His mom sighed, plopping onto the desk chair and booting up the computer. “I want to as well. Especially Danny, he’s always sneaking off somewhere. I can’t imagine him leaving, seeing his name among the victims.”

“We don’t have to ask him for permission...”

“You’re right, we don’t. The kids know how to keep quiet.” Maddie went silent, gesturing over for the case. Jack laid it on the table, unlocking it with a quick passcode and handing her a series of documents. She placed them beside her, pulling up a series of weaponry profiles. 

“What I don’t understand,” she continued, “is why he was so adamant about them not knowing. Danny more than Jazz. What could possibly be the issue of keeping them safe?”

“Vladdie thinks ahead. Maybe he was worried they would try solving this themselves. Do you want me to ready the vault?” Upon his wife’s nod, Jack made his way over to the section of the wall behind Danny, waving a hand over a sensor to reveal hidden sliding metal doors. From behind them, hundreds of weapons resided, all of various types. He grabbed two, planting them beside Maddie. “Anyhow, this is one of those rare times I admit I disagree with him. Let’s tell them tonight.”

His wife chuckled, amused at the prospect of Jack disobeying his dear Vlad. 

“That’s rare to hear.” She bit her lip, eyeing the sheet. “What a tragedy. There’s a group that’s gone missing, we haven’t had so many at one time.”

“That’s five people! What were they doing in there?”

“I don’t know, the forest is rumored to have more ghosts than usual. You know how teens are, maybe it was a dare. The question is, how is it possible that our devices state the victims are in the vicinity, but none of them have come out?”

“Perhaps they’re being held captive, or maybe, maybe they’ve become...”

Jack didn’t dare finish the sentence, but Danny knew what he meant to say. If something evil lurked within the reserve, a being that wouldn’t allow a human to live, it’s possible their spirit hadn’t moved on.

Trapped within its confines as a ghost.

“I’m holding onto hope that’s not the case. We’ll get them out Jack, we’ve got Amity’s biggest experts joining us in the raid tonight. Vlad himself will be there, it’ll be alright.”

Deciding he’d heard enough, Danny kicked off, uncaring of the clatter of beakers he left in his wake. There was someone he needed to see, a person who owed him an explanation and who deserved the sucker punch of their afterlife.

His parent’s were optimistic, and whatever raid they spoke of obviously included thorough planning, but if there was anything he’d learned about fighting the paranormal, it was that one was not sure if those on the front lines would make it out alive.

He couldn’t allow that, he had placed that responsibility onto himself, and he would be damned if someone else would have to bear it.

[moonyandsaturn]

this love

What if Sirius escaped from Azkaban sooner... you can also read this oneshot here

Remus could remember it clearly. It wasn’t all that long ago. A year or 2, maybe? It’s hard to keep track.

James and Lily died and Sirius went to Azkaban. Peter was dead too, but he could care less.

It had been darkening skies for what seemed like eternity. Not just for himself, Remus was sure of it, everyone could feel it. The war was just simmering down, but could that really be the end of it? Trust was a fickle thing. You can’t bet your life on it, or anyone else's. Truth was in the same boat. Lies were a swirl of black and white with no signals to guide you.

But the truth, the truest of truths, was that the feeling never dimmed. And it was as heartbreaking as it was fulfilling. Did he believe that Sirius killed them? No, but everyone else did. And Remus would be just as doomed to express that.

--

“Moony, look,” Sirius had nudged him slightly. The two were splayed on the grass, under the shade of a kindred oak tree. The Summer holidays were coming up and Spring was livid.

“Hm?” He bent his next up sleepily to see what it was. A little butterfly was perched upon Sirius’ knee where he sat. Remus smiled. “I think it likes you.”

It was his turn to smile now. Sirius hummed in agreement. “Did you know,” he started and Remus sat up next to him. “That butterflies represent hope?”

“No, where’d you get that?” He aimlessly picked at the grass in front of him as Sirius continued.

“A book?”

“A book?”

“Yes, I’m sure you know what that is, Moony.” He smirked.

“Ha, Ha,” he deadpanned. “What a load of useless knowledge you are.” Remus leaned to the side so that he was leaning on Sirius’ side with his shoulder to rest his own head on.

“Useless! I’ll have you know this might come in handy!”

“And when could that be?” He laughed.

“I don't know,” Sirius admitted. “Sometime.”

“Sometime?”

“Yeah.”

“You aren’t very convincing.” Remus teased.

“Sirius grinned. “You still love me though.”

He pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Yeah, but that didn’t take any convincing.”

“No hope either?”

He laughed. “Unless you’re talking about my mum then no, I don't think so, love.”

“Maybe some other time then.” Sirius leaned his head on top of his.

“If you say so,” Remus smiled. He looked back ahead and the butterfly was gone.

--

Remus tried to convince Dumbledore into letting him take care of Harry. It didn’t work, obviously. His condition wasn’t suitable for raising a child. He couldn’t disagree. But, Harry was now stuck with some of Lily’s muggle relatives. The Dursleys if he remembered right. Not that Remus had anything against muggles. His mum was one so how could he? But for Harry to grow up without knowing anything about James and Lily? Well, that was the problem. Dumbledore seemed not to care. Perhaps he had other things to do rather than taking care of the next generation of wizards.

He visited them once, the Dursleys. Petunia was a thin little woman with pouty lips. There weren’t many similarities to Lily in her, but Remus could recognize one: her eyes. They were the very same as Lilys, and the very same as Harry’s. She wouldn’t let him in to see Harry. He didn’t even see a peek into the house to look at any other people living there. Petunia claimed to know him from “The Pictures”.

It was well known that Lily loved to take photos. She had an old polaroid camera, the muggle kind. It would print out photos right as you’re taking them. James, Peter and Sirius were obviously very fascinated. She took it everywhere. It hung from a strap around her neck. Remus could recall a few of the photos she took.

There was one of all of them sleeping on the Common Room couch after falling asleep while trying to study. Another Lily charmed to move like the painting they had in the castle. It was one of James and Lily dancing. James had just proposed as Lily, of course, said yes. Remus, Sirius, and Peter were hidden by a nearby tree to watch the outcome. Lily loved dancing. It was quite honestly, the perfect moment. Remus never figured out where that photograph went.

He had the teary-eyed job of cleaning their home after the Potter’s death. But he could never figure out where the specific photo disappeared to.

--

“Wait, wait hold on!” Remus could see Lily grinning as she released herself from James’ embrace. They didn’t know him, Peter, and Sirius were standing behind three separate trees watching them. James finally got the courage to ask Lily to marry him. He bought the ring 3 months prior but was much too nervous. In these times, he wanted to make sure to keep time precious. Who knew how long they had left? So, he decided he wanted to spend however long they had left with Lily. And they were destined to be together anyway, it didn’t even feel rushed.

“What are you doing?” James let go and watched her. Lily took her camera from the strap around her neck and placed it on top of the dull brick wall to their right. It was this small alcove area near Hogwarts. James thought it to be sentimental to propose where they met so many years ago. Remus thought it was sweet.

She scrambled to get her wand out of her back pocket and casted a quick charm on the top of the camera. They couldn't hear the murmur that escaped her lips as she did it. She walked back toward James with a smile on her face.

“So, what was that?” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek.

“When I press the button to snap a photo on that,” she pointed to the camera. “It should come out like one of those live photos they have in Hogwarts. Even though it’s muggle made.”

James laughed. Like, really laughed.

“What?” She hit him lightly with her wand.

“I just proposed to you but It looks like I’m marrying you and you’re captured memories.” He smiled softly down at her.

Lily reached up and adjusted his glasses to sit right on his nose. “You certainly are.”

They started swinging in tune to an imaginary song together and the wind hummed the melody. James spun her around, under his arm before continuing the dance. Lily quickly reached her hand out to press record.

The two danced and held each other softly.

Remus turned his head when he heard a sigh. He looked to his right to see Sirius looking at him.

“I forgot the cloak, how do we get out of her without them seeing?” He whispered.

Remus shrugged. “Run for it?” He moved his head back to see Peter two trees away and he nodded in agreement.

Sirius made a look that said ‘if you say so’ and motioned for Remus to come over quickly.

“What if we just waited for them to leave? James is gonna freak when he sees us here after telling us not to follow him.” Peter said, closer to the two of them now.

“Um, I don't think waiting here with them slobbering over each other is going to be very fun for us.”

All three of them looked over at the couple. Who was now simply talking to each other.

“Ew, heteros,” Sirius grimaced. Remus laughed quietly.

“Okay,”Peter started. “Count of three we go east, toward the lake, and then, hope James doesn't catch us.”

Sounded like a good plan.

“Right then, One, two, and three!”

Sirius, being as forgetful as he is, might have mixed up easts and wests. Luckily there were more trees scattered to hide where he was. Unfortunately, there was not enough sound to cover Peter’s yells.

“YOUR OTHER EAST, PADS!” He yelled at him, hands cupping his lips.

“Peter, shut up! They’re gonna hear us.” Remus scolded.

“We already did!” Lily replied coolly and out of vision. Peter and himself poked their head out from behind the tree.

“OH FUCK, YOU SAID EAST NOT WEST DIDN’T YOU?” Another yell came from a few yards away.

Remus held in a muffled laugh but relaxed when he heard James and Lily.

They walked over.

“You know I literally saw you all follow me, right?” James said, leaning against the wall.

“Obviously not,” Remus replied.

“Oooo, group picture!” Lily grinned and turned around to prop up that stupid camera once again.

The last thing Remus could remember laughing at was when Sirius came running back saing, “GET MY GOOD SIDE!”

--

Remus got in bed late into the night. He stumbled around the nearly pitch-black room and crawled into the warmth of countless quilts and pillows. The dreams he silently screamed in the night were the most comforting that he’s felt in a while. It was still hard to sleep alone. Or with anyone else for that matter, but that didn’t happen often.

He once dreamt that these past few years had just been a sinking ship. Some people caught in a rainstorm. A curse planted by thieves. He woke up thinking that it had all been imaginary. That it was in his head. Remus could basically hear Sirius' voice in his ear. “Don't worry, Moony. It’ll turn out alright. We’ve swam together and we’ll sink together, right?” What a surprise it was when he was wrong.

Most people would be wishing for it to all be a joke. For everything to go back to normal. Remus was much too realistic to think that way. He had to keep in mind his condition. Maybe it was for the best. He knew he’d be the first to die if it were by natural causes. The moons weaken his body month by month. It’s a wonder he hadn’t passed already. And for someone to be bitten at such a young age? Unthinkable that they’d live past 30. He was to be 24 in March, time drew faster than he could keep up with.

He’s been able to stay in his and Sirius’ old muggle flat. Sirius paid it off before going to Azkaban and it was similar to staying there. Not that he wanted to. Every corner had some sort of sentiment tied to it. Yet Remus could never bear to take anything down. For the past 2 years the same photos have been getting dusty, the magnets on the fridge have been losing grip, the couch had some new found stains, and the coffee table had prints of mugs scattered like freckles.

It was the ground floor which was unfortunate. The upstairs neighbor didn’t enjoy being quiet. Plus, it felt more invading. All the people on the street could simply just look through the window or put their ear against the wall and hear whatever was going on. Not much, usually. Remus didn’t have a lot of people over. Just himself. He didn’t want to go back to any wizarding towns. No, that was too disgraceful.

There were always two responses when people saw him. It’s one or the other, neither being very pleasant to hear. The first was sympathy: “Oh, you were the one whose friends died. I’m so sorry, dear. Oh and one was sent to Azkaban for the murder of them! My, how horrible. I’m very sorry for your loss.” The second was worse: “So where were you when the Potter’s died? Did you not try to protect them? What about that other one, who gave up his inheritance for a sinful life? Oh, he’s gone to Azkaban. Hmm, I’m glad you were the one who got away…Somehow… ”

And so he gave up going out to places with people he knew. Loneliness was better than being ridiculed.

Sleep was a tedious project that crept up when unwanted and hid itself when needed. Remus pulled the covers tighter and over his ears.

A warm light flickered outside. A fire?

Muggles normally didn’t use candles or anything while walking down a street. That's what the sidewalk lamps were for.

The light burned and flickered.

He saw someone walking on the sidewalk. Young, he thought, maybe in use of a good washing, though.

Remus thought nothing of it.

When morning came a note could be found on his doorstep, not even in his mailbox. Which was weird because there was a code to get into the apartment building.

Harry’s alright, I hope you are too.

At the bottom of the torn letter was a familiar paw print of a love he once knew.

[moldisgoodforyou]

lost time (chapter five)

MASTERLIST

pairing: rafe cameron x oc

warning: cursing, underage drinking

wordcount: 2.4k

a/n: bear with me on those title gifs/images there is not much out there lmao

CHAPTER FOUR

______________

She pressed a hand against his chest to keep just enough distance between the two of them, lowering her voice a bit. “That’s not why you stopped me.”

He leaned closer, raising his eyebrows. “Enlighten me, then.”

She stayed quiet, only able to think about his heartbeat racing underneath her touch. As he bent his head down, closer, she fisted her hand in his shirt, her voice low with a warning tone. “Rafe.”

“Sophie.” He murmured back, lips hovering inches away from hers.

Sophie made the first move, reaching up and curling a hand around the back of his neck as she pulled him into the kiss. He met her lips without hesitation, his hands instantly going to her waist. She leaned into his touch, up on her toes. “M’ so glad no one’s out here.” She breathed out, keeping one hand splayed against his chest.

Rafe tried to ignore how much that hurt, like he was some secret to be kept.

They kept kissing for a while, Sophie lazily toying with the ends of his hair. After a couple minutes, he started kissing along her jaw, sucking just enough at a spot on her neck to elicit a soft moan from her. “I wish I came as your date.” He murmured against her skin as he traced his thumb back and forth over her hip.

She froze at his confession, her head clouded without clear thought. “You’re drunk.” She mumbled back, hand falling from his neck.

“I’m not.” He argued, kissing her again.

She could taste the rum on his lips, betraying his words. “Well, I am.” She replied softly, hesitating again until he went in for another kiss. “And I’m still mad about your stupid death cup rule.”

He scoffed, softly, but sounded more amused than anything. “You can’t call house rules when it’s not your house.”

Sophie scowled and pressed her hand a little harder against his chest. “It’s more my house than yours. Can’t you just follow the rules?”

He chuckled, trailing his hand higher and ran his index finger lightly along her spine. “Do you ever stop arguing, Soph?”

She shivered at his touch, willing herself not to move closer. “Not with you.”

“Can we…?” He asked with a broad grin, tipping his head toward their houses, just a short walk away.

She laughed at the proposition, harshly. “I’m not hooking up with you, Cameron. I’ll be surprised if I remember this tomorrow.”

He faltered and the grin fell from his face right away as he dropped one of his hands from her waist. “Damn, tell me how you really feel.” He choked out a sore laugh, trying again to mask his bruised ego.

She stepped back out of his grip, pressing her fingers against her swollen lips in a feeble attempt to hide any evidence of what had just happened. “I’m going to go, tell Julia for me?”

“Wait, you’re just - that’s it?” He questioned, disappointment evident.

“Yes, that’s it.” She paused, reading his expression - and laughed, again. It sounded cruel to his ears. “You didn’t seriously think something was going to happen between us, did you?”

Rafe stiffened and ran a hand through his hair, his voice flat. “No. Of course I didn’t.”

She turned, going to leave. He caught her hand in his and she turned back for a moment, caught off guard by his gentle touch. “You can’t walk home alone, Sophie, it’s dark.”

She rolled her eyes and tugged her hand out of his grip. “It’s fine, it’s literally like five-ish minutes. There are people out walking home from the bars, it’s alright.”

Rafe frowned. “Sophie…”

“Go back to your date, Rafe.” She shook her head, walking off with her head held high.

_

Sophie woke up a few hours later to Allie and Julia peering over her as she was sprawled out on one of the couches in the sorority’s formal living room. “Soph, wake up, let’s go to our room.” Allie nudged her softly, tugging gently on her wrist.

“Huh?” She mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Julia laughed and helped pull her up. “Bedtime, Sophie. You gotta stop crashing on these couches, you’re gonna get in trouble. Did Rafe take you home?”

“What? No, I think I walked.” She replied, still half-asleep and still somewhat drunk.

“Oh. He left after you did, I figured he brought you back here.” Julia shrugged, the three of them walking up to their room.

Sophie just shook her head, trying to recall the rest of her night. “I dunno where he went. You’re not going to see him again, are you?”

“No, he was nice, but. Didn’t seem interested. In me, anyways.” Julia replied, sounding unaffected.

Allie held back a smile, knowing exactly what she was hinting at. “C’mon, Soph, let’s get ready for bed. You’re gonna hate me if you wake up in a halter top.”

Sophie nodded sleepily, following along. “Prob’ly right.”

The girls made their way upstairs and Sophie was coherent enough to change into pajamas, barely sitting up on the edge of her bed as Allie dragged a makeup wipe over her face. “He’s so fucking handsome. I hate it.” She slurred, allowing herself to feel the full effects of the alcohol with the two people she was comfortable around. 

“Who is?” Julia asked, playing dumb. Allie shot her a warning look as Sophie flopped back onto the bed. 

“You know who I’m talking about. I didn’t know he was such a good kisser.” Sophie mumbled, crawling under the covers. 

“Wait, what?!” Julia practically shrieked and Allie immediately shushed her. She lowered her tone just slightly. “You two kissed? Finally!” 

Sophie groaned at the loud noise, pulling a pillow over her face. She spoke again, muffled into the pillow. Allie raised an eyebrow at Julia as they whispered in hushed tones back and forth to each other. 

“Did you know?” 

“No I didn’t know! But it took them long enough!” 

“She was drunk! She probably didn’t mean it!” 

Sophie lifted her head again, annoyance lacing her tone. “I can hear you. Shh, I’m sleeping.” With that, the two girls took the bathroom to discuss the rest of the night in private. 

_____

Rafe couldn’t get the thought of her out of his head all weekend. 

Instead of meeting up with his friends at the bar that night like he had promised, he made a quick exit from the party, giving Julia a short apology then heading out the door. Sophie was right, there were quite a few people out making their way from the bars to house parties or wherever, but he used it as an excuse to follow her home from a distance. He felt a bit creepy, admittedly, but told himself he just happened to be going home to Delt, two houses away from where she lived at Theta. (Plus if he had heard something had happened to her, he would have never forgiven himself.) 

He had never been more grateful for a lecture day in class on Monday. He could feel her gaze on him several times throughout class, wanting nothing more than to meet her eyes, but kept his head down as he scrawled notes into his notebook. At the end of class, he packed his things hurriedly, trying to rush out the door, but she was quicker and waited just outside the doors for him. “Rafe, hey!” She caught his arm as he was walking out, head down.

He slowed, stepping aside in the hallway with her and tried his best to play it cool. “What’s up?” 

She smiled like nothing had ever happened between them. “I tried getting your attention all class, you were ignoring me. I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to sit together now?”

He shook his head and tugged down on the bill of his hat, backwards as always. “Oh. Didn’t know. I was just taking notes.”

She nodded, unfazed. “Right. I just wanted to be sure we were still on to meet tomorrow night? I think our first debate is soon, I don’t want to be unprepared.” 

He grimaced, having completely forgotten. “Right, yeah. Is the library cool? Er, fine? I can reserve a room.”

Sophie waved her hand. “I already got us one. Second floor, I’ll see you at six.” She paused, giving him a once-over then a sheepish grin. “I meant to ask, did you have fun at the party with Julia? I honestly don’t remember much after the bus back to Theta.” 

Rafe’s blood ran cold and he had to stop himself from openly gaping. True to her word, she hadn’t remembered. “Um. Yeah. She’s nice, but, uh, not really my type, you know.” He tripped over his words, glancing at her neck to see if there was any trace of the mark he had left, but it was either completely healed or well-covered.

“Oh.” Sophie nodded again, completely oblivious. “Okay then, I’ll see you later.” She left him standing there, shaking his head in disbelief. 

The second he got back to Delt, he found Colin right away in their room, playing video games with James. “You can’t ask her out.” Rafe declared, standing right in front of the TV. They both ignored James’ protests and Colin pulled the headset down, confused.

“What?”

“You can’t ask her out.” Rafe repeated, arms crossed. His face was stony, jaw set. 

Colin raised his eyebrows. “Why, did something happen? This why you’ve been a space case all weekend?” 

Rafe grumbled something under his breath. “No, just - you can’t. She’s off-limits.” 

James just rolled his eyes, reaching out and kicking his leg to get him out of the way of the TV. “You can’t claim a girl that doesn’t even want you in the first place, dumbass.” 

Rafe groaned, grabbing his ankle and shoving his leg aside. “I’m serious, Colin. Delt code. And if you already asked her out, you have to tell her plans changed or something, don’t be a dick about it -” 

“Chill, chill, I haven’t said a word to her.” Colin raised his hands in surrender. 

Rafe exhaled, nodding slowly. “Right. Good. Carry on, then.” He missed Colin and James exchanging confused looks as he left the room with a huff. 

_ 

If she was going to just pretend nothing ever happened and be nice, he could deal with that. They could be friends, Rafe told himself as he swiped his card at a local coffee shop in town before his meeting with Sophie that Tuesday night. He ignored the way his stomach twisted as he first caught sight of her alone in the study room in the library, a pencil tucked up and twisted into her hair. 

“Here, Soph.” He slid into his seat across from her, pushing a cup of coffee across the table. She glanced up, ready to make a snarky remark about it being too late for caffeine, then paused as she saw the cup from Sweetwaters, her favorite coffee. Rafe pulled out his laptop, logging on, then glanced up at her. “What, something wrong? You like it with vanilla, right?”

She nodded quickly and brought it to her lips, then took a small sip and gave him a wry smile. “Yeah, um, just didn’t know you noticed. Thank you.” 

“No biggie.” He waved it off, then pushed the laptop to her and started walking her through the argument he had prepared in advance. She was totally unfocused, distracted by running every single possible meaning of what his kind gesture could have meant. After a couple minutes, Rafe caught on. “And that’s exactly why I’m taking credit for all of the project. Right?” 

Sophie nodded quickly, snapping out of it. “Right, yeah, totally. Um. Let me just read back over this real quick…” 

He laughed and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Were you listening?” 

Never willing to admit her faults, she scowled at him. “Of course I was listening.” 

He grinned. “Sure, Soph.” 

“Why do you call me that?” She interrupted. 

He shrugged. “I’ve called you that since high school, it’s nothing new.” 

“But...my friends call me Soph. And only some of them.” She pointed out. 

His lips quirked up into an amused smile. “You really think we’re not friends? Hit me where it hurts, Flint.” 

She raised her eyebrows, confused, and pulled her hand back. “You hate me.” 

He shook his head. “Not quite.” After a momentary pause, he pushed the laptop back to her. “See, like I was saying…” 

Sophie nodded at his admission, trying to hide a smile as she took another sip of her coffee. The rest of the meeting was productive, and they were both quiet as they packed up their things an hour later. “Is your family coming in next weekend? For parent’s weekend?” She broke the silence, trying to make friendly conversation.

Every third weekend in October, Columbus was flooded with parents reliving their college days and buying their kids’ meals at fancy restaurants normally frequented by locals. All of Greek life had the same time of year reserved for parent’s weekend, and with Sophie’s parents as proud alumni and her older brother now a grad student at Ohio State, her family hadn’t missed one yet. 

“Uh, no. My dad doesn’t really have time to come out with work and whatever, and.” He shrugged and preoccupied himself with zipping his backpack, head down. “You know.”

Sophie frowned, biting her lip. “Right, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Do you have plans, then?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “No, I’ll probably just head to the game alone. Don’t really want to crash my friend’s weekends, you know.” 

“Come hang with me.” 

He glanced up at her. “Isn’t your family coming in?” 

Suddenly emboldened, Sophie sent him an earnest smile. “Yeah, but it’s basically just a frat reunion for my dad, it’s nothing special. Come to our tailgate, I’m sure they’d like to see you.” Her dad was a golf instructor at the country club back home. He had taught Rafe in private lessons all through high school, and always spoke fondly of him. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” He hedged, though he wanted nothing more than to accept the offer. 

“You wouldn’t be. At least consider it?” 

“I - yeah, I’ll think about it.” He settled.

She grinned, pulling her backpack over her shoulder. “Good. Thank you, again, for the coffee.” 

“It’s no problem.” He allowed a smile, giving her a small wave as she left.

taglist: @obx-saltlife​ @dontjinx-it @butgilinsky @oopsiedoopsie23 @taiter-tots @annedub

[ddullahan]

Here's a prompt I've been thinking about writing but never will Ruby finds that whenever she checks out a book from the library its been checked out before by a W.Schnee as well. Like every book she chooses. So she's suuuper curious as to what type of person she is. She thinks theyre really similar because they have the same tastes in books.And they meet and she finds out that Weiss is nothing like her at all.And cute shit happens? Idk I didn't think this through 😂

BRUH WHAT THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE I went ham on this lmao thank you so much for the prompt idea!! I picture Ruby and Weiss in their twenties in this as a PSA lol ---------- The library was solemn that afternoon. Ruby wandered the stacks, breathing in the paper and leather from the shelves around her. The tips of her fingers skimmed the spines, silver eyes drifting over with no real clarity behind them. She pulled a book free from the shelf with the title The Beast of Vale, automatically flipping it open and skimming the inside cover. Someone sneezed with the force of a gunshot in the distance and Ruby nearly dropped the book, a flustered apology whispered out of sight. She recovered with a soft giggle, tucking it under her arm. Arching up onto her toes to glance at the other covers, there was a second sneeze and another hasty apology. Ruby bit her lip to stifle another laugh, pulling a second book free, Dust Below Dawn, and set to reading the inside cover. She pinched that to her side too, reaching for a third book - and a third sneeze rocketed through the quiet library. She heard a soft swear nearby and shuffled her books into her hands, curiosity pricking at her skin. She slunk to the end of the aisle, poking her head around the corner. “Bless y-” She choked off mid-sentence, her eyes widening. The woman seated amongst the thick red leather couches was far too pretty to be real. Stark white hair draped over her shoulders in silk waves, braided at the temples and leaving the rest to fall loose. White bangs framed her brow, partially covering a thick pale scar over her left eye. Most of her face was covered by a pale blue handkerchief furiously rubbing at her nose, but Ruby could still catch the gem blue eyes squinted against the pressure. They matched the dark and light blues of her three piece suit and matching heels. She had a sleek looking laptop on the coffee table in front of her, a lipstick stained coffee cup set beside it. Accompanying the laptop were several blue-bound books stacked as far away from her as possible, without the threat of them falling off the small table. The woman sniffed daintily, catching Ruby’s movement and hastily folding her handkerchief back into her inside pocket. “Oh -” “Oh um -” Ruby stammered at the same time, nearly jumping out of her skin as those blue eyes focused completely on her. “Did I -” “Bless you!” Ruby blurted out in a panic. The woman paused, blinking at her. “...Thank you..?” “You’re pretty - Welcome!” Ruby squeaked, her heart pounding so hard she was sure she could feel it through the books clutched to her chest. “You’re pretty welcome. Yep.”    An almost invisible smile pitched the corners of the woman’s eyes, amusement coloring her tone. “Pretty welcome. That’s a new one.” Ruby flushed red to the tips of her ears, a clumsy little laugh bursting from her, unchecked. “Well I’m uh, a new one. New-new person, I mean. We’ve never met before. So I’m new. To you.” The working percentage of her brain immediately wished to crawl into a hole and never come out again. Thankfully, her flustering seemed to amuse the woman further, prompting a light, stuttering laugh from her red lips. Ruby was surprised with herself, amazed she was still standing beyond the force of that smile. “You are.” The woman said evenly. Ruby immediately wished she’d worn something nicer to the library, as the weight of those blue eyes skimmed over her attire. Big black boots and black rose stockings lead up to a simple short black dress cinched at the waist and deep red cardigan thrown haphazardly over her shoulders, the tattered ends reaching down to her ankles. The soft red sleeves were pushed up her forearms, black bracelets around her wrists and a simple black choker wrapped around her throat. She didn’t bother with make-up that day, and she bemoaned it silently. “S-so um.” She shifted awkwardly, the woman’s eyes snapped up to hers immediately, the words sticking in her throat. She swallowed and tried again, clutching her books tighter for sanity. “A-are you um. Okay? Those were some pretty powerful sneezes.” The woman’s spine stiffened a little, crossing her legs at the knee. Her hands folded over on her lap. One of her heels drifted a little loose, cruxed at the ball of her foot. She had the presence of someone three times her actual size and Ruby could only watch the transformation in awe. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern. It seems I’m mildly allergic to the dust in these books. And not the useful kind.” Her lips pursed in the semblance of a frown. “Oh, that’s tragic.” Ruby flushed back up her eyes. “I-I mean, not tragic tragic. Just, um. It sucks you can’t smell the paper without sneezing.” “Yes I...thought the same.” She tilted her head, a few strands of her hair curling over the sharp line of her shoulder. Ruby wondered absently if meeting someone gorgeous was supposed to feel like dying. “Have you read those books before?” “These?” Ruby looked down at the books in her hands like she’d forgotten they were there. Honestly it was hard to remember anything now that she could breathe. “Uh no, not yet. I was planning to check them out though.” “Dust Below Dawn is enjoyable, as long as you don’t mind egregious prose and flowery alliterations.” The woman hummed, her spine relaxing as she reached for her coffee cup. Ruby tried not to stare too hard as her pale throat bobbed with a sip. “Wow, words.” Ruby murmured under her breath, shell-shocked that she’d missed her entire sentence. “Alternatively,” The woman continued, either ignoring or missing Ruby’s lack of attention, “The Beast of Vale is a masterwork. The author spent a dangerous amount of months near Mount Glenn just researching the properties of the city and grimm surrounding.” Ruby snapped out of her daze, glancing down at her copy of The Beast of Vale in wonder. Her feet were moving before she even realised it, cardigan sweeping out in a flutter behind her as she dropped into the opposing red couch. She leaned over the books now relocated to her lap, leaning forward eagerly. “Wow so you’ve read both of these before?” It was only after a beat of silence that Ruby realised how pink the other woman’s cheeks were, how wide her eyes had grown. “I- well yes. I wouldn’t know anything about them if I had no interest.” “Do you research the authors of all the books you read?” Ruby asked curiously. “Only the ones I care deeply for. I like knowing the process involved.” “That’s super neat!” The woman blinked like she’d just been blindsided. “Thank you?” “On a scale of one through ten, what would you rate Dust Below Dawn?” Ruby bulldozed on through the conversation, gaining confidence now. “Six.” The woman replied, almost startled by her own quick response. “The Beast of Vale?” “Nine.” “Okay okay, how about - are these books yours too?” Ruby prodded the small stack closest to her, careful not to jostle the stained coffee cup. “They are.” “Have you read them already?” “...Yes.” The woman’s flush crawled higher on her cheeks, her sharp scar imperious amongst the pink. “Okay,” Ruby flipped the top book over, skimming the title. “What would you rate - oh hey, I’ve read this one! What would you rate Atlas Knights?” “Ugh, two.” The woman wrinkled her nose. “I read it faster because I wanted it over with. The main character was unbelievably whiny.” “I dunno, I was under the impression she had a hard time expressing herself.” Ruby hummed, flipping the cover over to the library checkout slip.  She found her name, R. Rose, and another below hers, W. Schnee. A bit of recognition itched at the back of her mind. The woman scoffed. “Well what rating would you give it?” Ruby’s attention switched on a dime. “Mm… probably a five.” Ruby frowned. “The world was cool. But if the main character had a hard time expressing herself, the author also didn’t give her a chance to be better. It’s like, she’s saved by her knight, but still a brat. The other characters all know she’s a brat, but none of them talk to her about it. She isn’t given a chance to be a person, she’s just given a flaw and stuck with it for the entire story.” The woman hummed in reticent agreement, reaching for her coffee again. Ruby pointedly didn’t watch this time, sliding the book aside to look at the one underneath. She made a little curious hum under her breath. “I’ve read this one too. What did you think about Song of Ice and Rust?” “Probably rated a seven or eight. I enjoyed the twist immensely.” Ruby looked up at her with a bright grin, heart thundering uncomfortably in her throat. “It was so good, wasn’t it!?” She received a small but genuine smile for her enthusiasm. It made her feel like she could fly to the rafters. “The dragon really sold it for me, I wasn’t expecting it to be the ancient king.” “Gods I read that and almost screamed - it was like three in the morning though so I had to contain myself.” “That must have been hard for you.” The woman said with false sympathy, though her smile remained curled. “Hey! I’ll have you know Miss -” Ruby glanced on the inside of the cover, finding again her name and the same W. Schnee underneath. “Schnee, I’m perfectly capable of containing myself.” “This conversation has proved otherwise.” She replied smoothly, though a bit of stiffness had returned to her spine. Her gaze seemed to be searching for something, but Ruby wasn’t really sure what it was she wanted. Shrugging it off, she moved on to the last book on the table, a small frown gracing her face. “Man this is so weird, I’ve literally read all of these.” Ruby said, tilting her head curiously. “We must have similar tastes in literature.” “We must…” Ruby squinted at the inside of the cover, spotting the same W. Schnee below her name. Something itched at the back of her mind again. She dropped the cover closed, swinging open Dust Till Dawn’s cover. There was the same simple cursive of W. Schnee. “Have you read The Nevermore’s Quarry?” Ruby asked, suddenly, looking up at her. She knew full well that book wasn’t anywhere near their little table. The woman blinked, leaning forward curiously. “Yes, I have. How did you-?” “The Harbinger Sons?” Ruby asked, silver eyes widening. “...Yes?” The woman looked equally as mystified. Her eyes drifted above Ruby’s head in thought. “Have you read Of Bones and Evil?” “Yes,” Ruby breathed, her grin growing wider by the second. “Fortune’s Fallacy?” Ruby just nodded, her entire body lighting up with a different kind of energy. “What in the world…” The woman murmured. “I think you might be my library soulmate.” Ruby said. She had no idea someone could turn so red in such a short time, admiring the flush under the woman’s scar. Ruby was almost entertained, watching as she sputtered in the cutest kind of fluster. “Y-you can’t just say that to someone!” She stammered. Ruby’s confidence came roaring to life. She pouted. “So that means I can’t ask you out either?” “I- what.” Blue eyes blinked rapidly, the very picture of an error message written in human form. “I thought your name looked familiar. I’ve been reading the same books as you for almost a year straight.” Ruby tried not to show how much her palms were sweating, nerves shuffling in cold versus the warm wake of her momentary confidence. Predictably, her mouth started running without her permission.“I think we have a lot in common and I’d like to get to know you and maybe possibly talk more about books when I don’t look like a scrub. You’re like, other-worldly gorgeous and you’re so far out of my league but my sister says I can’t write anything off without trying it first and I figured I’d try it out y’know, benefit of the doubt and holy moly I’ve been talking for way too long-” “You only know my name from the books we’ve read?” The woman spoke it more like a statement, almost like she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Um. I mean I’d like to know your first name. But, yeah.” Ruby gave in and brushed her palms down the front of her skirt, fingers starting to shake with adrenaline. “Weiss.” She replied absently. “Weiss Schnee.” Ruby’s lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Ruby Rose.” Weiss gave her a once over, the astonishment fading into something entirely different. Her gaze carried a weight to it that had Ruby’s palms sweating double time, her twitchy fingers immediately fiddling with her red cardigan. “...Alright.” Weiss gave a slow, smooth smile. Ruby almost passed out. “Wh- really?” “Do you have a pen on you?” “I- yes!” Ruby all but evacuated the library ten minutes later, a number written on the back of her hand next to a clear, red lipstick stain. She nearly ran into a pole, but she knew it’d be ten thousand percent worth it. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Yang’s face.

[celosiaa]

hi me again 🥺 sorry for making you tear up even if it was in a good way (hopefully?) 💕 i don’t mind the wait at all, i completely understand and it’s 100% worth it (honestly i get so excited whenever you post a new fic)!! soooo... i was doing some research for a project on epilepsy and i got thinking about epileptic martin?? like particular in s1 maybe he didn’t tell the other archives crew as he didn’t know them that well/hadn’t worked closely with them before (ok sorry tbc as i am rambling)

hello friend!!! I am so sorry that this took me a literally unreasonable amount of time to write! I really enjoyed the research I did for this, and I love this hc forever. And I hope this is what you were looking for <3

CW seizures, nausea, misgendering

Focus.

Just focus.

For god’s sake.

It’s been nearly an hour of Martin sitting at his desk, trying desperately to rein in any sliver of concentration he can muster to look at the laptop screen before him. He feels awful doing it, but every time Jon has passed by his desk that day, he’s found himself pretending to click around or to type—though he’s got the brightness set so far down there’s no way he’d be able to see it anyway. After a few attempts at turning it back up, he’s had to immediately look away, as the pounding behind his eyes resumes again. So for now, he’s stuck with reading statements—something he is loathe to do even on a good day.

And this certainly wasn’t.

He knows better than this, knows that he’s very nearly approaching disaster—what with the not sleeping out of hypervigilance, not eating out of anxiety, and not having his seizure meds for the past two days, as he’d managed to run out of his flat without them. And there’s no doubt in his mind that he cannot send anyone back to his flat. Not with Prentiss still on the loose.

Selfish selfish selfish

No, stop it.

You haven’t even done anything.

Wishing more than anything that his mind did not constantly run him ragged with thoughts like this, Martin looks up from his papers, intending to find a rubber band to snap against his wrist as a distraction, but instead—

Instead he finds himself frozen, colors fading in and out across his vision, heartbeat steadily climbing as his fingers go numb.

No no no no

Not now not now please not now

Realistically, he knows it’s only been a few seconds, but the seconds feel like years against the rapid thrum thrum thrum in his ears, made even worse when he sees Tim approaching from the periphery.

Damn it damn it

Please please please

“Hey Marto!”

Like clockwork, the focal aware seizure ends, and at last—at last he is able to move enough to look up at where Tim stands, leaning against his desk, smile fading rapidly as he watches Martin blinking in the suddenly-too-bright light.

“You alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at his face, doubtless taking note of how quickly he is breathing now to match his settling heart rate.

“Y-yeah, sorry, um. Was just thinking,” is all he can reply, fighting to put an easy smile back on his face.

It seems to have been the wrong move, as Tim only shifts to sit atop his desk, expression quickly becoming overrun with concern.

“Okay, well…you look like you’re having a panic attack, mate,” he says lowly, reaching across him to grab his water bottle and set it nearer to him. “What do you need?”

Even with his misguided interpretation, Martin can’t help the flood of affection he feels toward him in this moment—because that’s just Tim, isn’t it? Never assumes, just asks what will help and then does it.

If only I weren’t such a mess, and would let him.

“Oh, n-no it’s not—it’s not that, Tim, I’m—I’m alright. Must’ve…drifted off, or something. Had a nightmare.”

There is no way Tim buys that, no way in hell—but thankfully, he lets it go.

“O…kay then. Well. If that’s the case, I was just thinking of grabbing some lunch, do you want anything? Don’t reckon you’ve eaten properly in a bit, yeah?”

God, Tim.

I don’t deserve this.

Yes, you do. You deserve a friend and you need to eat.

You need to eat.

“Uhh—th-thanks, erm.  Where—where are you going?” he asks, wishing to god his voice didn’t sound so shaky.

He takes a few intentionally deep breaths after that—thinking that perhaps it is a panic attack, after all.  Without realizing that several seconds have gone by since his question, he feels Tim’s bracing hand on his shoulder, knowing that he’s not going to ask again—but offering him a clear sign that he’s there all the same.

“Just the corner shop,” he murmurs, starting to rub his thumb over the shoulder seam of Martin’s t-shirt. “Nothing fancy. But I can get you a sandwich, if you like. Well, no—I am getting you a sandwich regardless, but I thought I might be considerate for once and ask if there was anything in particular that you want.”

“Yeah—erm, yeah, just. Anything that’s warm would be nice,” he says at last, sinking a bit as Tim removes his hand from his shoulder. “Thanks, Tim. That’s—that’s really kind.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously,” he says, clapping his hand back against Martin’s shoulder with force before standing. “Be back in a bit. Drink that water.”

“I will,” Martin nods, earning himself some finger guns of approval before Tim starts walking towards the lift. “Thanks, mate.”

And he’s so close now, so close to shouting after him, to asking him to pick up his meds from the chemist, if he calls them in—

Just ask just ask just ask

—and then Tim is around the corner, and out of sight.

Damn it all.

He tells himself it’s probably for the best anyway—that he’s not really even sure he can get them. But it doesn’t stop him burying his face in his hands, tugging at his hair in frustration and shame. Really though, he ought to call first before mentioning anything—perhaps they have a delivery service, or they’ll refuse him, or something.

And what then?

The idea of finding himself suddenly on the floor of the archives, alone and in the dark with the worms having crawled all over him while he seized—

Have to call.

Reaching bitterly for his phone, he takes a deep breath as it rings, preparing his best “customer service” voice.

“Boots, how can we help you today?”

“Hi! Erm, I was wondering if—if I could get a refill for my prescription? For—for carbamazepine,” he says, cheery voice belying the dread with which he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Sure thing! Just need your name and date of birth and I’ll look you up.”

“Right. Erm—well, it’s Martin, but I think you’ve still got me under, erm. Mary Blackwood,” he says, forcing himself not to grit his teeth at the foul taste his deadname leaves in his mouth. “Date of birth October 15th, 1987.”

“Alright, let’s see here—“

Please please please

“—it looks like you’ve already got your refill, Miss Blackwood. Our system says you picked up your medication on the 19th.”

“It’s—it’s Mister, actually. Erm,” he stammers, stomach churning over the entire thing. “L-listen, I—I’ve had to leave my home quite suddenly, and—and I am unable to return there for the time being. So I don’t—I don’t have access to my meds. And I, erm. Really need them.”

Pathetic pathetic pathetic

“I’m really sorry, Mister Blackwood. You’re going to have your doctor call in another prescription for you before we can get you that refill. Unfortunately, it’s out of our hands.”

Of course.

“Oh, right. That’s erm—that’s okay. Thank you so much,” he says as brightly as possible, unwilling to blame anyone for something out of their control.

“You’re quite welcome. Take care.”

With a long, shaky sigh, Martin throws his phone back onto his desk, returning his head to its rightful place, buried in his hands. There’s no way he can call his doctor today—or tomorrow even, with it already being a Friday afternoon. No chance of him getting his refill, then. And no chance of sending Tim back to his apartment either.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

It was just a focal, nothing too bad.

Nothing unmanageable.

I can make it.

Steeling himself with somewhat tremulous determination, he takes another long breath—blinking back against the steady pounding in his head, and getting back to work.

—

“Aw come on, Sasha! Take a break with me!”

“Not on your life. I’m still furious with you, you know,” she replies, tossing her hair like a lion’s mane over her back. “Can’t believe you’d go all the way to the good café for Martin, and not offer me anything. Not even crumbs, Stoker!”

“Listen—” Tim grins back, hands raised in self-defense. “He looked like he could use some soup! I don’t know what else to say.”

“And you didn’t get me any? What about me doesn’t scream ‘I could use some soup, thank you?’”

“It’s different!! It’s—Martin? You alright?”

As he was walking past their bickering, eyes firmly fixed on the floor on the lookout for worms, Martin had suddenly stopped short—looking anxiously up and over their heads, framed by the doorway of Jon’s office.

“Martin?” Tim repeats, already halfway to standing in worry, following Martin’s gaze behind him and finding nothing.

Faster than he can turn back around, Martin’s muscles all tense at once—and he tips backwards onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“Shit! Martin!”

Tim darts forward at once, in some feeble attempt to catch him, but of course, far too late to do so. In his shock, he can do little but stand over him for a few seconds, taken aback upon seeing his eyes still open where he lies still on the floor.

“What happened?” Jon demands, stepping quickly out of his office towards them, where Sasha now crouches near his head.

“I-I don’t know, he just—”

And then Martin begins to convulse.

“Oh my god, he’s—he’s having a seizure,” Sasha gasps as she claps a hand over her mouth, from where it had been pressed against his forehead.

“Fuck. Fuck, what do—what do we do? Do we call 999?” Tim shouts, unwilling to sit by and watch as this all goes on around him, already grabbing Sasha’s phone from her nearby desk.

“I—I think so, let me—”

“Wait.”

Two sets of eyes land upon Jon as he interjects, crouching near Martin’s flailing left arm, waiting for him to set it back down before quickly grabbing at a bracelet circling his wrist.

“I-it’s a medical bracelet. Says epilepsy,” he says lowly, quickly sitting back on his heels as Martin’s arm begins to jerk again.

“Fuck. I—I had no idea,” Tim breathes, running an anxious hand through his hair. “How could we not know?”

“We should—” Sasha breaks off quickly to swallow a lump in her throat, before continuing. “We should be timing it, did anyone see the time?”

“I-I don’t—it’s probably been less than a minute, right?”

“I think so. I’m—here, I’m googling it to make sure—”

While she does so, Martin’s head begins to slam into the ground—and Jon immediately pulls off his cardigan, folding it quickly and placing it beneath him to cushion the blow.

“It’s alright, big guy,” Tim says, settling down to kneel next to Jon, who now has a hand gently pressed to his shoulder—not holding him down, just resting there in a comfort Martin probably cannot receive.

Tim rests his own hand against Martin’s thigh all the same.

“Okay, I think we’re good so far,” Sasha says at last, setting her phone down with a timer running on the screen. “Just time it, and—and keep watch. If it goes past five minutes, we call 999.”

“That’s—that’s it?” Tim says in dismay, snapping his eyes back to his friend, still convulsing on the floor. “There’s nothing else we can do?”

“No. We just have to watch out for him,” she replies, voice low as she adjusts Jon’s cardigan beneath his head. “Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

Not the answer that Tim was looking for.

And so they wait—silent save for the rhythmic smacking of his limbs against the carpeted floor, and the occasional whispered platitude, though all know he cannot hear them. The seconds tick by in agony while they sit helpless, all eyeing the timer on Sasha’s phone creeping up steadily past three minutes.

“I don’t like this,” Tim says, knowing how useless it is to say so—Sasha raising her eyes to meet his for the first time in a while.

“Me neither.”

“Nearly three and a half minutes,” Jon mutters, worrying at his bottom lip while still resting a gentle hand on Martin’s shoulder.

“We’ve got you, Martin,” Tim mutters. “We’ve got you.”

Ten more seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

And at last—at last he goes still, right past the four-minute mark.

“Alhamdulillah,” Jon sighs as he lets his chin briefly rest against his chest, a sentiment echoed by everyone around him.

“Okay, turn him on his side, here—Tim—”

“Got it,” Tim says as he moves to crouch next to her, helping roll him towards Jon, head pillowed on the arm Jon stretched out across the floor as a cushion.

As soon as they get him in the recovery position, they watch as saliva runs out of his mouth, surely fit to choke him had they not turned him—and he begins to snore forcefully, catching Tim very much by surprise.

“Wh-what—” he asks in bewilderment, struggling to hold back a bit of shocked laughter.

“The website said that’s normal,” Sasha assures at once, reaching behind her to grab a box of tissues from her desk behind her. “He’s going to be sleepy for a bit.”

“Okay. That’s—okay,” he says, watching as Jon takes the tissues from Sasha and wipes at Martin’s face so very gently, before tossing them aside and taking his hand.

Taking his hand.

…interesting.

Stowing THAT away for later.

As Jon starts to move his thumb across the back of Martin’s palm, the snoring stops—and his eyes begin to flutter rapidly, attempting to force their way fully open.

“Hey Martin, can you hear me?” Sasha says rather loudly, bending over him and tapping his shoulder lightly.

All she receives in response is a moan, deep and low, as he squeezes and unsqueezes his eyelids, coughing a bit against the pooling saliva. Jon reaches for the tissues again at once, cleaning his face as best as possible.

“You’re okay mate,” Tim says, patting his hip before leaving his hand there for support. “You’ve had a seizure.”

It takes a few moments, but at last, Martin opens his eyes, looking vaguely around without meeting Jon’s eyes.

“Wh’ happ’n?” he slurs—all three of them exchanging a meaningful glance, a bit alarmed.

“You had a seizure, Martin,” Sasha repeats, stroking at his hair while Tim starts rubbing his hand up and down his arm, hoping it will somehow help to ground him.

Remaining still for a few moments, still blinking, Martin tries to take it all in— looking down towards where Jon still rubs at his hand, though still seemingly unaware of his presence.

“What happened?” he asks again, voice less slurred, but still weak.

“A seizure, Martin,” Jon says, trying desperately to catch his eyes. “You’re alright.”

At once, Martin wrenches his hand away from Jon’s grasp in favor of clapping it over his mouth, muffling a small and desperate gasp behind it.

“Shit. You gonna be sick?” Tim asks, already looking around him for something to grab as Jon once again prepares his tissues.

He does not respond right away, instead pausing for a few deep breaths—at last shaking his head no. In both relief and the absence of something to do with his hands, Jon fusses at the cardigan again—positioning it just so.

“Wh—oh, seizure,” Martin breathes, and Tim cannot help but feel relieved at his gaining a bit of orientation back.

“Yeah.”

Eyebrows knitting together, Martin moves the hand clapped over his mouth to rest on his eyes, sniffling a bit before speaking.

“M’so sorry,” he gasps—and it’s enough to break Tim’s heart.

All of their hearts apparently, as they immediately place their hands on him in a gesture of comfort.

“Hey, no, none of that,” Sasha soothes, brushing back his fringe again.

“M’sorry.”

“Martin, it’s alright,” reassures Jon, with such rare gentleness that even Martin lowers his hand to look—wincing quickly as he does so, and placing it back over his eyes at once.

“Do the lights hurt?” Sasha asks worriedly, placing her hand to cover his own, hoping to block more of it out.

“Yeah—ah,” he grits out with a pained little gasp, and Jon gets to his feet.

“I’ll get them,” he says, and walks quickly to the switch, sending them into a darkness illuminated only by the light from the hall.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Martin lowers his hand again, eyes still closed, and rubs absently at his nose. Stumbling a bit as his eyes adjust to the dark, Jon makes his way back to kneeling beside him, taking up his free hand again.

“Your head okay?” asks Tim, prompting Sasha to card through his hair to look for any swelling. “I’m sorry I didn’t—I couldn’t catch you.”

“…what?” comes the vague response, delayed by a few seconds as Martin tries in vain to sort through what was said.

“Still confused,” Sasha mouths at him silently—and he nods, instead going back to rubbing up and down Martin’s arm, as Sasha moves to massage his neck.

“M’sorry.”

“Hush, darling. It’s alright,” she says, and Tim knows without a doubt she will sit there all day, repeating these same things to him as long as he needs.

And loves her for it.

“…wh—Jon?”

Eyes more focused than ever, Martin looks down to where Jon still rubs a thumb over his palm, stunned very his very presence in this space.

“Yes, I’m here,” he murmurs, offering a small squeeze of affirmation, inadvertently painting a soft grin briefly across Martin’s face—before it drops quickly again in horror, as the reality of the situation sinks in again.

“Oh god. I—oh god.”

“It’s okay, Martin.”

“No no no.”

“It’s alright,” Jon comforts, more soothing than Tim had ever imagined would be possible for him. “Just be still. You’re alright.”

Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen as Martin’s confusion slowly fades away—his recovery naturally filled with a deluge of apologies, patient soothing from his friends, and tending to the waves of nausea that come over him every few minutes. Ever so gradually, he becomes better able to hold a conversation; better able to hold their gaze, asking what happened before he went down, explaining that his…well, everything is sore, but that it’s nothing unmanageable.

There is very little that Martin would call “unmanageable,” of course, but it’s the most they will get out of him.

“I think I can sit up now,” he says after a bit, bracing his arms underneath himself to prepare, and Tim reaches out to support him at once.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

A bit slow, a bit clumsy, they get him up—not without some worried questioning when he hunches forward, face buried in his hands as the headache worsens with the change of posture. But luckily, it dulls as quickly as it comes, and Martin soon finds himself able to look up, even to offer a bit of a sheepish smile.

“Want some water?” Tim asks as soon as he looks steady.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m on it,” he says, refusing to accept any of Martin’s guilt-laden excuses, and dashes off to the kitchen at once, leaving Jon and Sasha still vaguely holding onto him in the fear that he might fall again.

“I’m alright, guys, really,” he assures, though he makes no effort to shrug their hands off—so there they stay.

“Do you know what caused this, Martin?” Sasha asks, folding his collar from where it sticks up at the nape of his neck.

With a heavy sigh and an exhausted pinch to the bridge of his nose, Martin replies, face reddening with shame.

“Yeah. You’re—you’re going to laugh.”

“Why would we laugh?” Jon asks so earnestly, so softly that it wins him a long and surprised look from Martin.

“I…dunno really, just. It’s just that it’s—it’s all my own fault. Stupid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I—I don’t—” he cuts off for a moment to hiss painfully as he rubs at his temple again, and Sasha’s hold tightens ever so slightly as a precaution. “I don’t have my…seizure meds with me. I left them at my flat when—when I ran. From Prentiss.”

Of course.

Of course he did.

“I would have gotten them for you Martin!” Tim shouts as he returns with the water. “Any of us would, mate. You should have said.”

“I didn’t want to send you back to my flat. She might…she might still…be there.”

He fades a bit as he speaks—rubbing once more at his temples, and Sasha resumes her ministrations of massaging his neck.

“Alright, just—it’s alright, Martin,” Jon soothes, a bit alarmed at the way he’s hunched back over—seemingly nauseous again, as he moves the bin a bit closer to himself just in case. “What can we do now?”

After a few long, deep breaths, his churning stomach finally settles long enough for him to answer, albeit a bit more vague-sounding than moments before.

“I tried…I tried to call the chemist, but…they won’t refill it unless I…unless I talk to my doctor. And it’s not like I can just go.”

“You have to get some from A&E then,” Tim insists, sitting back down next to him and pressing a hand atop his shoulder.

“No, I can’t.”

“We’ll go with you,” mutters Jon, before clearing his throat, returning to his best confident-boss tone. “We’ll keep watch for the worms. Go prepared.”

“You don’t—“

“We will,” Sasha says emphatically, leaving no room for argument—and even Martin knows when the battle is lost. “We’re happy to do it, Martin. Seriously.”

“Thank you,” he very nearly whispers, face flushing beet red as the undue attention of the afternoon catches up with him. “That’s really…too kind.”

“Well, you’ve got to get it somehow, mate,” Tim says with a chuckle, earning himself a warning glare from both Sasha and Jon. “What? I’m sure Martin wants this to happen again even less than we do. Which is saying a lot.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, surprising them all by chuckling briefly in return. “Reckon you’re right about that. I didn’t—this is pretty much my worst nightmare, so…just so you all know how sorry I am.”

“Yes, you’ve said,” Sasha laughs. “And it keeps continuing to not be your fault.”

“Right. Sure.”

He does not sound at all sure—but she lets it go all the same.

“We should go today, Martin,” Jon says as he stands, already grabbing a canister of CO2 in preparation. “Don’t want you to miss another dose.”

“And take that thing on the Tube?” Martin laughs, fully smiling for the first time since the whole affair began. “Think we might get some looks.”

“It’s the Tube, mate. Stranger things have happened,” Tim chuckles, rolling his eyes good-naturedly before jumping in to assist him in standing.

“Suppose you’re probably right about that.”

“Let’s go then,” says Jon, face steeled as if armed to the teeth and ready to tangle with anything coming his way. “Work that needs doing.”

[sillyfeathers]

Overtime (Jim & Pam x Reader)

Overtime Prompt: I was just wondering if you could write for the show more, maybe doing a part 2 for making copies? / Do you think you could write a platonic ler Jim Halpert x reader fic? I think I would die of happiness. Maybe a continuation of the Pam fic? Characters: Pam Beesly, Jim Halpert, reader (all platonic) with a mention of Michael and Erin. Summary: Working late as an intern for a paper company was definitely not the way you wanted to spend your Friday night, but lucky for you, your friends are just as bored. Warnings: fluff, slight profanity Words: 1402

A/N: The prompts above were both from anons, so I hope this finds you! I finished rewatching The Office the other night and inspiration definitely struck, so I hope you enjoy <3

You probably should have accounted for Jim, though.

That was the last thought that flashed through your head before you felt a poke to your side, and you didn’t think, you just ran.

You knew, logically, you couldn’t outrun tall, lanky, Jim, but you might as well try, right?

“Whoa, is she okay?” You heard Kelly’s voice from behind you, and you dared to turn around, drawing to a halt. 

Instead of seeing an ever-advancing Jim Halpert, you instead saw him and Pam grinning ear to ear, not having moved a muscle since you took off.

You glanced around the parking lot, seeing that everyone was now watching you with bewildered expressions.

“Yeah, um, I – I just remembered, I have an assignment due tonight.”

“In the middle of summer –?”

“Yes, Jim, in the middle of summer.” You shot him the most annoyed look you could muster, and refused to look back at any of them as you left in a hurry.

Turns out, you were going to wish he’d got it over and done with. The next two weeks of your life looked like they were going to be living hell – as if spending your summer working at a paper company with an incompetent boss and a really annoying desk-mate wasn’t enough, you were now looking over your shoulder every minute.

In all honesty, and this was never something you would’ve admitted to anyone in a million years...by the end you began to realise it wasn’t so bad.

While the past couple of weeks had been mildly terrifying, Pam and Jim had taken a genuine liking to you. They’d taken time to get to know you: hanging out in the break room, saving you a seat in the conference room – Jim had even got you in on a prank he was pulling on Dwight (it was hilarious, and definitely worth the 4 hours of work you had to catch up on). 

And so, a mere fortnight after the perilous parking lot incident, you found yourself not hating the fact that you had to stay late on a Friday with Jim, Pam, Michael and Erin.

It was just some inventory stuff, and the accounting department had basically begged you to take on their part. All in the name of ‘invaluable experience’, which you knew was bullshit, but you didn’t have anything better to do...so there you were.

“Hey, Y/N, come here a second?” Pam called you from the break room, and you happily abandoned the work, sauntering over.

She invited you to sit down, and you noticed Jim by the vending machine. You tilted your head, a little confused.

“Y/N, I would say we’ve bonded rather well over the past two weeks, wouldn’t you?” Jim sat down across from you, a pensive expression on his face. “One would even dare say we’ve become friends?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess,” you stammered, unsure of what direction this was heading. Were they going to berate you? Fire you? Invite you to a dinner party? “We just wanted to make sure you’re okay with that. Us...being your friends,” Pam chimed in. 

“Of course – is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” you asked.

“No, we just wanted to really, really, make sure,” Jim replied, and as he spoke, he rose from his seat and started to walk nonchalantly towards you, Pam following behind.

As if he’d hit a switch, the memories of two weeks ago came rushing back. You jumped to your feet, blanching.

“Wahahait,” you giggled, curling in on yourself. “Don’t even think about it.”

It was two against one, and you all knew that if they decided to attack, you would have no way of escaping. All the same, you didn’t make a run for it.

“We know it gets boring around here some...well, all of the time,” Jim said. “We thought we could make it a little more interesting.”

Right when you thought you were done for, they both stopped, looking expectantly at you. You bit your lip. I mean, it was mind-numbingly boring...and they were your friends...so maybe they had a point.

Before you could change your mind, you narrowed your eyes and nodded. “Okay.”

You didn’t get a second to think before they pounced, trapping you in a corner almost immediately.

Jim’s fingers latched onto your sides, scribbling up and down, while Pam curled hers around your neck, making your shoulders scrunch up.

“Noho!” you squealed, giggles pouring from your lips. Jim’s squeezing and poking combined with Pam’s light, feathery touches had you a squirming mess in a matter of seconds, and you could tell they were taking pride in that.

“No? We’ve hardly started!” Jim teased, and you managed to squeeze in a sarcastic groan between your giggles – which was quickly silenced by a pinch to your knee.

You slid down the wall, batting at their hands, your skin, every bit of you that was alive with ticklish electricity. Jim crawled his fingers up your sides, venturing dangerously close to your underarms.

“Should I do it, hun?” he asked Pam, who had made herself busy with seeing which part of your knee made you jerk the most.

“Might as well do it now, I don’t think she can take much more,” Pam teased, smiling affectionately as your face heated up.

“Stohohop,” you giggled breathlessly, your half-hearted tugging against his grip having no real impact. Jim raised an eyebrow, and you held your breath in anticipation, still squirming from Pam’s nails scratching at your knee.

But then, he pulled away, as did Pam, leaving you to sink into a heap on the floor.

“Alright.”

You tilted your head up at Jim, your chest heaving. “Huh?”

He and Pam exchanged a look. “We don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything, so, get back out there,” Pam said, offering you her hand. You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed – as embarrassing as it may be, it was the most fun you’d had in ages. You bit your lip, but got to your feet, grinning sheepishly at the two as you headed back to the office.

“Unless, of course, you’d rather not.” Jim piped up from behind you, and you turned around slowly.

“I mean, we won’t judge.”

You eyed the door to the annex behind them. “Only if you can catch me.”

Before they had time to pounce, you ducked under Jim’s arm and bolted for the door. You heard two pairs of footsteps in close pursuit, and preemptive giggles spluttered out as you looked for a place to run to. 

Try as you might, it was literally just an office, and you soon found yourself cornered between walls and desks.

Pam’s face split into a huge grin when she saw you, wasting no time in running forward and scribbling her hands up your sides. You shrieked, caught off guard, and you were very glad there was a break room separating you from Michael and Erin.

Jim was not far behind, and you hardly had time to cry out a “WAIT!” before you were once again pinned into a corner, Pam gently holding your hands back while Jim crawled his fingers up under your arms – and that was the last straw. You exploded into squirmy, loud laughter, practically melting into the floor, your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth split into a huge smile.

Pam let your hands go soon after, and you recoiled, slapping at Jim and sinking into breathless giggles. The two smiled affectionately between themselves, and then at you, as you got to your feet, grinning sheepishly.

“We never speak of this,” you mumbled. Jim raised his eyebrow. “Well -”

He was cut off by Pam gently hitting him on the shoulder. “We won’t, Y/N, don’t worry.”

You caught a glimpse of movement in your peripheral vision, and your heart dropped.

“Shit -” you pointed at a cameraman who was hiding quite well behind a plant.

“I thought there weren’t supposed to be any here tonight!” Despite having enjoyed yourself, you were now beginning to regret it - this was meant to have been completely private. 

The two sensed your concern, and without hesitation, Pam squeezed your hand as Jim started over towards the offending plant (or rather the person cowering behind it).

Pam pulled you into a hug, and you relaxed.

“We’ll take care of it.”

[angstyaches]

Feverish puke for felix and elliot? You choose the sickie I can’t decidee

Hi anon! Sorry this one took so long, but this really helped me develop what’s been going on with these two. 

CW: emeto, fever, bodily changes, anxiety, mention of deteriorating condition (maybe?), food mention, (un)death mention

Part of the Plan

Felix’s ears felt like they’d been filled with cotton wool. He could see that Ryan’s lips were moving, he could tell there were words coming out, but it wasn’t until he heard Elliott say his name that he managed to snap out of it.

He jumped and looked down to see that he’d been digging his nails into the back of Elliott’s hand, leaving tiny half-moon dints along his boyfriend’s warm, slick skin.

“Are you alright?” Elliott asked, even as something dulled the yellow fire that usually sparked behind his own eyes, making him sit with his shoulders sagged. Felix laughed out of disbelief and nervousness, because if he didn’t laugh, he thought he might burst into tears. 

He glanced at Ryan; even she was looking at him with a strange expression from her chair, as though he was the one they needed to be worried about. She tilted her head inquisitively, her silver hair curling against the ruffles of her blouse.

“I’m good. No, I’m good. I’m sorry.” Felix cleared his throat, frowning in Ryan’s direction. “Sorry. I, um – I mean, is – is there no way to slow it down? For example, what if Elli cuts right back on blood, like me? I know it’d feel a bit weird at first, darling, but if it would help –”

“Well, I was just explaining this,” Ryan said pointedly. “Unfortunately, there’s no slowing it down at this stage. Elliott’s tendency to over-indulge on hunts, coupled with the fact that he was half-blooded directly by an Elder, seems to have caused his transition to accelerate by quite a lot. Reversing the transition at this stage, well – it’s unheard of.”

“But,” Felix said, “can we slow it down?”

Ryan pursed her lips. “I would not recommend trying.”

Felix could tell she was straining to keep her composure, considering how distressed the two of them seemed. He briefly wondered what this change would mean for her; Elliott had never planned on surpassing her status as Elder, but now he might just do it unintentionally.

Elliott shivered and hunched further forward in his chair. Felix leaned into the motion so he could keep a hold on his hand.

“His body is going to keep adapting,” Ryan said. “And if he doesn’t obey his new cravings? Well, it won’t be pleasant for anybody involved. I’m talking about intense nausea, muscle spasms, violent outbursts –”

“How?” Felix asked, his throat pinched. He held back the tears that stung his eyes, knowing that crying in front of Ryan would undermine anything he had to say. “If you knew that being blooded by an Elder would make his transition this unstable, how could you have let it happen?”

“Elliott was just as aware of what he was doing –”

“You knew he didn’t want to change.” Felix’s lips trembled apart with each word. “You knew I didn’t want him to –”

“Fee,” Elliott murmured, pinning him with a look. His expression was pained and exhausted and pleading. Come on.

“Felix, Elliott is capable of making his own decisions,” Ryan stated, draping her arms along the sides of her chair. “You both have my sympathy, since I can see it’s causing you distress, but I do not take responsibility.”

He looked at Elliott with the same anger burning in his throat, because Ryan was right. The way Elliott turned his face away, reluctant to make eye contact, suggested they were both thinking the same thing, so there was no point in Felix bringing it up; he’d told Elliott to take it easy whenever he went hunting – especially whenever he was traveling alone or with Nancy.

The feeling dissipated when Elliott slid his elbows onto his knees, hanging his head forward. Felix shifted in his chair, placing a hand lightly on the back of Elliott’s neck. His skin was much hotter than it should have been, and the contact from Felix’s hand seemed to make him tremble.

“Once the toxins are out of your system, the symptoms should ease. I would recommend cutting physical meals down to once every two days from now on, and upping your blood intake by half, at least until you’ve got a handle on your symptoms. So, for now, you should rest.” Ryan’s cool yellow gaze fell on Felix. “And you, Felix, need to adjust your attitude, quick-smart.”

Felix forced a smile. “Yes, ma’am. Come on, Elli, let’s get you up to bed.”

___

“I have a bad taste in my mouth,” Elliott muttered from where he sat at the edge of the bed.

Felix relaxed his hold on Elliott, having crawled across the bed to drape his arms around his shoulders. He was trying not to press too closely or heavily against Elliott’s skin, considering how much heat was already radiating from him, even after he’d taken off his shirt.

“I know, darling. Ryan said a lot of things that were hard to hear. Imagine, failing to take any responsibility for –”

“She only said things that were true, Fee. And I – I meant that I have an actual bad taste in mouth.” Elliott sat forward, reaching up to remove Felix’s hands while his own quivered. “I feel nauseous.”

“Oh.” Felix slid back from Elliott, watching as his shoulders clenched and he dropped his head into his hands. “Is – is there anything I can do?”

Elliott grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. “Just, um – just try to relax. I can tell this is stressing you out a lot. Put something on the T.V., maybe.”

Felix’s heart sank as he sat back on the bed. Elliott crossed the room and let himself into the ensuite. His eyes were pinned on the ground as he turned back to close the door. Felix didn’t want to put anything on the T.V.; the only thing that would make him feel better was being with Elliott, and he couldn’t do that while he was nauseous, or he’d get his arm bitten off. Metaphorically, not literally; or at least, he hoped.

Felix climbed off the bed after a minute, and started rearranging the duvet so they could get straight in once Elliott was ready to lie down. He took one of his own blood and sugar lollipops from the box on his nightstand and left it lying, still in its wrapper, on Elliott’s pillow, in case he felt like replacing some iron. He looked at it for a second and put it away in the box again, realising he didn’t know how Elliott’s body would react to the sucrose.

He wrung his hands after that and sat back down on the bed, unable to think of anything else to do. He started off kneeling, eventually letting his legs slide out to the side, trying not to look towards the bathroom door.

Trying not to picture Elliott gagging over the toilet, all by himself. Trying not to picture this exact same scenario occurring more and more frequently from now on, as Elliott’s body inched closer and closer to being undead, instead of simply off-human. Felix’s hand flew to his mouth to stifle a sob, and he closed his eyes, willing them to absorb the tears that threatened to fall. He wished he could bundle all the tears up and tie a string around them and tuck them away in his heart somewhere.

He jumped as the handle of the bathroom door slammed down, and the door opened a crack. It sat like that without any further movement.

“El?” Felix scrambled off the bed again. He went into the ensuite to find Elliott shivering on his knees in front of the toilet, though it didn’t seem like he’d thrown anything up yet.

He looked up at Felix, that glassy look still in his deep yellow eyes. “Fee, can – can you hold me? Just for a minute?”

Felix shuddered with a sob, his resolve crumbling. He tackled Elliott into a hug and put hand out against the side of the bath to stop both of them from toppling over.

“Oh, don’t cry, beautiful,” Elliott begged in his ear. “Please.”

“I know, I know I’m just making it worse, Elli, I’m sorry.”

“No, I am. I’m so incredibly sorry. This wasn’t part of – of the – of the plan we–”

Elliott lurched forward, and Felix sank back, stroking a hand across his boyfriend’s shoulders as he retched over the toilet. His skin was practically on fire, his body fighting against what it now considered to be foreign substance, a potential threat. Toxins, as Ryan had put it.

A few hours ago, it had just been fried chicken and rice. Nothing toxic at all. The fact that Felix had made it was probably part of the reason Elliott had been holding back from throwing up all this time. Like he thought it would be a direct insult.

“Let it up, darling, it’s okay,” Felix stammered, just in case that was what was happening. He lightened his touch on his back, surprised he hadn’t already been whined at or shaken away. Not wanting to leave, but afraid of making his boyfriend feel too crowded, Felix edged around him and climbed into the bath. He it would make Elliott feel like they were separated enough.

Elliott threw him a quick, grateful glance, then choked on another unproductive gag. “Fee, we – we never… Rome, and – and Japan…”

“Darling,” Felix whimpered, folding his arms on the edge of the bath and resting his chin on top of his hands. “We can still see the world together. I know I talk like all I care about is food tourism, but there’s so much more I want to do. With you, Elli.”

Elliott gasped, trying to choke out more words through the nausea. “What – wh-what if –?”

His breath hitched, a shallow belch echoing against the toilet bowl. He sat forward a little more, back muscles contracting visibly under his skin. He made a noise like something had clawed at his throat before letting waves of vomit splash into the water. Felix wished he could scoop his arms around his waist.

He eventually took his hand away, in case his boyfriend was just cooperating with the touch so as not to upset Felix. He wouldn’t put it past him.

“God,” Elliott rasped finally, dropping his weight to the side and sliding his legs out so that his back was against the bath. His face contorted as he pressed a hand to his belly, letting out a couple of short, wet burps.

“Are you okay?” Felix sighed, crawling down the bath. “Can I touch you now?”

As soon as Elliott gave a weak nod, Felix sat up on his knees, reaching one hand down to rest on his boyfriend’s chest. The other, he placed gently on his cheek. “You’re still just like a furnace.”

Elliott tilted his head to show Felix the weak grin pulling at one edge of his mouth. “Give it a minute, boo. My stomach’s still halfway up my throat.”

Felix pressed his lips to Elliott’s damp, salty cheek. “Did you know the food was going to make you sick?”

“I… hoped it wouldn’t,” Elliott muttered. “I hoped yesterday’s stomach ache would turn out to be just that, not… not this. I didn’t want this, Fee...”

Tears looming in his eyes, Felix kissed the back of Elliott’s neck. “I know.”

Elliott lifted a shaky hand to hold onto Felix’s. Felix wondered if he was pressing so that his heartbeat would be a little more obvious against his palm, its pace slower than a human’s, but still ticking. The thought of it stopping for good, of him becoming truly undead, was clearly on his mind.  His hand slumped away from Felix’s after a few seconds, arm resting heavily in his lap.

“Oh, darling,” Felix said, his voice echoing slightly in the empty bath. “Are you ready to go to bed?”

Elliott grunted. “That sounds wonderful. Sooner or later, it’ll be a silk-lined coffin for me.”

“Elli, I love you,” Felix whispered against the side of Elliott’s head. “But even if that were true, we’d be keeping the bed, because there’s no way I’m being spooned in a coffin.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

Different - Adam Sackler (pt. 3)

thank you soooo much for all the love and support you’ve been showing to this series, this means so much to me! this series has been pretty dear to my heart so I’m happy that so many of you like it! this part is a little shorter than the previous ones, but for the sake of the plot this is where I had to cut it. given the fact how fast I’m writing the story, I’ll probably stick to the daily posting, and there will be approximately 5 parts all together, meaning 2 more until the end! as always, feedback is very much appreciated!

series summary: Hannah lets you move in with her and Adam as you are her second cousin and in need of a place to live. Your relationship with Adam starts rocky, but things soon seem to be taking a turn.

pairing: Adam Sackler x Reader

word count: 3.3k

PART 1 - PART 2

masterlist

It’s been hard on Adam as well and he has been struggling just as hard as you. The past couple of weeks has left him with a lot of emotions and he has been working on sorting them out, but it’s a situation he hasn’t faced just yet. Following Hannah’s departure Adam definitely had fears, but it took some time for him to realize they weren’t about her, but more about you. Living with you alone, with no third person scared him, because he has already been having inappropriate thoughts about you before and now that Hannah was away, he felt like he had one less thing to keep him in his place. 

He knows it’s not okay to watch you do your everyday things and think about how much he loves to just look at you, that catching himself thinking about you several times a day is not what he should be doing and that the endless jealousy he felt when he found out that you are going on a date scared him more than almost anything in life. When you told him the truth that’s hard to accept for the both of you, he kind of realized you were right, but when he lied in his bed that night, sleepless from his racing thoughts, he still couldn’t make himself believe it’s best if he keeps himself away from you. He has tried that already and it ended with him sleeping in your bed after that night you got drunk. There is just something in you that keeps pulling him in and he can do nothing against it. And slowly, he realizes he doesn’t want to do anything. He is tired of fighting with himself.

He wants to know where this could lead, he just doesn’t know how to figure it out in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone.

A few days later Tyler asks you out on a second date to which you say yes and because of everything that went down you don’t tell Adam. Hannah is set to come back for the weekend exactly when you are going to go out with him again so you think it’s the perfect timing.

The week goes by pretty uneventfully. You and Adam hang out on evenings, usually having dinner together when he gets home in time from work, but when he doesn’t, you’re still up when he arrives so you just watch TV together for a while before you feel like you can’t keep your eyes open any longer. He is nice, chatty, seems to be okay with where you two are heading and it brings you a little peace too, knowing that you might have finally found balance.

Coming home from work that Friday, when you walk into the apartment Hannah greets you with a scream.

“Hey!” she throws herself on you and you barely catch her keeping your balance.

“You’re back!” you chuckle hugging her.

“Yeah, just got here like twenty minutes ago. How are you?”

“I’m good! Everything is fine.”

As you reply Adam walks out of their bedroom and joins the three of you, kissing the top of Hannah’s head and a rush of jealousy washes over you by this small gesture. It’s been quite long since you saw them together and almost forgot the fact that they are really a couple.

“How was living with Adam without me? Did he drive you crazy?” she asks grinning, glancing up at Adam and you notice the anxious look in his eyes that he tries to cover with a warm smile.

Did he drive you crazy? Kind of, and you guess he knows the answer too, he is just scared what you might tell Hannah, but you are not a petty person.

“No, he was alright,” you exhale smiling.

“Good, I’m glad you two got along well,” she nods as you and Adam look at each other and chills run down your spine from the look he gives you before turning back to Hannah. “We are having dinner at that new place a few corners from here, you wanna join us?”

“I’m sure you’d rather be alone.”

“No, I want you to come! This is my time for everyone here, not for just Adam. We’ll have the rest of the weekend together.” “Yeah, but…” you sigh, not wanting to go into the details why you don’t want to go, but she forces it out of you.

“What, do you have a date or something?”

“I…”

“You do!” she gasps. “Who’s the guy? Oh my God Y/N, that’s amazing!”

“Is this the Tyler guy again?” Adam sternly asks and looking at him you can’t really decide what his expression means.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, you’ve met him already? So it’s not the first date?”

“No, we had one already.”

“Is he taking you to dinner?”

“No, he said we are going to this art gallery opening.” “Okay, then you can have an early dinner with us, tell us everything about him and then meet him, this is just perfect!”

“I think she doesn’t want to share the details, Hannah,” Adam chimes in, trying to hold his girlfriend back, but she is just too stubborn and you both know that.

“I demand to be told about it! Go, get ready, we are leaving in thirty,” she urges you and you just know you can’t say no to her.

An hour later the three of you are sitting at a small table in this restaurant that you just can’t tell if it’s Italian or Japanese, but you let this detail slip.

“So, let’s hear everything! How did you meet him, what is he like, is he treating you right?” Hannah seems excited to hear all about Tyler, but she is probably the only one feeling that way at the table.

“Maybe not everything,” Adam mumbles, his eyes focused on the menu even though you’ve already ordered. Hannah dismisses his comment.

“Um, we work at the same place, he is on HR. He is nice, I guess,” you shrug, feeling nervous to talk about it all, especially with Adam sitting right in front of you.

“Is he cute?”

“He… is.”

“Has he kissed you? Or have you already slept with him?”

“Hannah,” Adam growls and she looks at him confused as you try not to choke on your own saliva by her blunt questions.

“What?” she growls turning to Adam. “Out of the three of us you are the least prude person, so what is your problem?”

“We are in a fucking… restaurant. Have some morals,” he quietly tells her, but she just rolls her eyes at him before turning back to you.

“Um, nothing has happened yet,” you say and your eyes meet Adams. You wish you could read his thoughts right at that moment, because there is something in his eyes, but you just can’t tell what it is.

“Oh, he is moving slow, how romantic,” she smiles to herself as you just awkwardly nod. You don’t share the detail that he has tried to kiss you last time, you just ducked and his lips ended up on your cheeks. You were really not into getting physical so fast and luckily he seemed to understand and accept your decision.

“So, how is Iowa?” you ask with the pure intention of diverting the attention away from you to her. You watch her face drop a little, but then her smile is back a moment later.

“Oh, it’s nice. I don’t have many classes, so I have tons of time to write.”

“That’s nice! I’m glad you are enjoying your time.”

“Yeah!” she nods, but you feel like it’s not genuine.

The rest of the dinner is just as awkward as the beginning was. You hate sitting there and watching Hannah and Adam be affectionate with each other. This is a whole new level of third-wheeling, because when they kiss at one point, you catch Adam’s eyes on you and it makes you want to scream. The intensity of the moment is just throwing you over the edge, you hate this, you hate seeing them together and you just don’t understand. It’s not like a new thing, you literally lived together for months before she left, what’s so different now?

You can’t wait for the moment it’s time for you to leave and when it finally comes you basically flee.

“It’s been great to talk, I hope you’re gonna have a nice evening together!” you say forcing yourself to smile before hugging Hannah goodbye and heading towards the exit.

You’re almost out the door when someone grabs your wrist and turning back you see Adam standing in front of you.

“Wait, I just…”

He struggles to find the right words as you wait for him to finally tell you what he wants.

“Yes, Adam?” you urge him to speak.

“What I told you before the last date still stands.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you furrow your eyebrows at him confused.

“That if you need help, just call me.”

“Thanks, but I’m sure everything is going to be alright. Besides, just enjoy your time with Hannah.”

That second part comes out a little spicier than you intended, you can actually see the change in his eyes, but before he could say anything else you just turn around and walk out.

You take a few minutes to yourself outside in the cold night air. This past few hours has been harder on you than you would actually admit and now the thought of them spending the rest of the evening together just makes you want to cry even though this is the most normal thing to happen on the planet since they are a couple.

You hate this, you really do, because you really thought things are going to get better after what went down recently between you and Adam, but Hannah’s return just made it a hundred times harder and made you feel worse than ever.

When you finally get your shit together you head to the subway because you are already a little late.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t get your mind fully away from Adam and it shows. Tyler is trying his best to make this evening as nice as possible, but you just can’t wait to go home, crawl into bed and cry yourself to sleep probably. The date cuts shorter than last time as you tell him you’d really like to head home when he suggests to go for a walk just like last time.

“Thanks for everything, Tyler,” you smile at him when you arrive to your building.

“I hope you didn’t find it too boring,” he chuckles scratching the back of his neck.

“No! I really liked it, so thank you.”

“Alright…” There is a short pause before he steps closer and he tries to kiss you again.

And you turn away, again.

But this time, the reaction is a little different.

“Okay, this is not cool, Y/N,” he sighs, clearly frustrated by the situation.

“I’m sorry?”

“This is not middle school where you hold hands for six months straight before you let the guy kiss you for the first time.”

“Are you mad because I’m not kissing you? I’m really not feeling well, this is why I would rather not.”

“Why do I feel like you’ll always have an excuse? You know what? Last time I let it slip because I thought you are just a little shy, but this gotta be something else.”

The fact that he is pissed at you for such a nonsense thing is making you mad as well, wanting to just punch him right now.

“Grow up and learn to respect others, Tyler,” you spat at him, but he just scoffs.

“You telling me to grow up is the joke of the month, honestly. Other girls usually ask me to come up at this point and you don’t even let me kiss you, this is just ridiculous!”

“Well I’m not like other girls!” you retort and you are just about to turn around and leave this unbelievable conversation when he grabs your wrist and yanks you back, causing you to almost lose your balance and fall.

“I’m not fucking done with you! You can’t just walk away from me when I’m still talking!” he sneers through his teeth, hand gripping your wrist tightly.

“Let me go, asshole,” you hiss at him trying to free yourself, but he is just too strong and his hold is starting to get really painful, probably already leaving a mark on your skin.

He is just about to say something else when the door to the building flies open and the next thing you know is that someone just throw a punch at Tyler, and he lets go of you to cover his nose that immediately starts bleeding.

“Oh shit,” you gasp, in shock at the sudden events and you turn to see a very angry looking Adam, shaking his hand lightly and he definitely looks like he is ready to kill Tyler any moment.

“You better get the fuck away from here, you fucker, before I break your neck!” he warns him and Tyler stares back in shock, the blood staining his shirt.

For a moment you feel like he is going to hit back, but then he decides it’s better to leave. He mumbles something under his breath before spitting on the pavement right in front of you and then walks away.

“Are you okay?” Adam turns to you, the threatening tone is long gone from his voice, turning soft in just a heartbeat. He cups your face in his hands, checking if you have anything on you, but there’s nothing, just pure shock in your eyes.

“I-I’m alright. It’s just my hand,” you whimper, feeling the tears building up in your eyes as it all crashes at you once. He gently takes your hand, taking a look at it and it’s a deep shade of red and you’re already sure it’s going to bruise by the morning.

“Come on, let’s go back inside,” he softly says wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he pulls you to his side and walks you up to the apartment.

You sit on the couch, sniffing quietly as he gets you an icepack, and you still can’t believe this just happened.

“Here,” he sighs joining you on the couch, handing you the icepack. You mumble a faint thank you as you push it to your skin, hissing at the sudden coldness of it. “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you anywhere else?”

“No, he didn’t have the chance, you arrived in time,” you say with a sad smile.

“What the fuck happened though?” he asks with a grimace, running his fingers through his hair.

“He… got mad at me because I didn’t want to kiss him. He said we are not in middle school and girls usually ask him to go up at this point. Told him I’m not like that and he didn’t take it well.”

“That dickhead!” he curses shaking his head.

“How did you know you had to come down? And where’s Hannah?” The questions start to flow into your mind as you slowly adjust to the happenings around you. The apartment seems quiet, you’re more than sure she is not home.

“She went out with Jessa and Marnie,” he shrugs and you find it odd that she spends her first night out with friends instead of being with Adam, but you don’t say anything about it.

“And my other question?” you ask remembering he never answered the first question.

“Huh?”

“How did you know you had to come down?”

“I uhh… I was just looking out the window and spotted you two. When I saw his annoying ass face turn from a smile into that fucking frown I knew something was about to happen.”

“Were you waiting by the window?” you quietly ask.

“What? No, I wasn’t.”

“So it was all one big coincidence?”

“Yeah,” he nods, but you see right through him and he knows it too. “Okay, fuck it! I was waiting at the window, you happy now?”

“But why?”

“Why? Because I’m one big fucking loser and I wanted to see the fucker you are seeing. I wanted to see how you look at him, if he makes you laugh, if he is what you deserve.”

He exhales sharply, pouring his heart out finally. He has been holding it all back for too long and he just can’t keep himself back anymore.

“I hated the thought of you being with someone, I could barely sit still after you left and when Hannah said she is meeting her friends I just came home and stood at the fucking window like some fucking creep, waiting for you to finally come home.”

You stare at him completely shocked at his sudden confession, not knowing what to do or say, but one thing is for sure; his words are making your heart flip.

“I can’t keep pretending like I’m fine with just being friends with you, because I’m not! And it’s literally the worst feeling ever, and I—“

He doesn’t get to finish, because without really thinking through what you are doing you move forward and press your lips to his, kissing him hard, dropping the icepack from your hand to cup his face in your palms.

It takes him a moment to realize what’s happening, but when he finally does, he doesn’t waste any more seconds. Wrapping his arms around you he pulls you to his lap and you put a knee on each of his sides, pressing up against him while your lips move in sync.

You feel him in every bit of your body, it’s like electricity. You’ve thought about what it would like to kiss him before, but reality is nothing like those ridiculous daydreams. The way he pulls on your bottom lip, how his fingers dive into your hair on the back of your head and feeling his broad shoulders under your palms, it’s just making your mind explode. You want to kiss him every day for the rest of your life, feel his plump lips on yours all the time, the weight of his arms around your body, the way his hair sticks to your forehead upon touching.

It all crashes when you suddenly hear Hannah’s laugh coming from outside and in a blink of an eye you push him away and jump off him, shocked at what you just did. The two of you stare at each other for a moment at a complete loss of words for what just happened, but when you hear Hannah’s key wiggle in the lock you decide it’s time to disappear.

Covering your mouth with your hand you run into your room and shut the door closed just when she walks in. You press your back against it sliding down to the floor and you hear their conversation while you just sit there in utter shock.

“Y/N?” she calls after you. “I wanted to ask how her date went,” she sadly sighs.

“Um, she… It wasn’t the best,” you hear Adam answer and your throat closes up at hearing his voice.

“Really? What did she say?”

“The dude was a dick. I think she just wants to sleep it off,” he cleverly says so Hannah won’t come into your room to interrogate.

You hear him talk about her evening before they move into their bedroom and the voices become too muffled to make out what they are saying. You don’t know how long you sit there on the floor, but after a while you just blankly crawl up to the bed and pulling the covers over your head you pray to wake up with an easier heart, because right now it feels like you are carrying a rock in your chest, thinking about what you just did.

-

general/forever taglist for Adam Driver

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Adam taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Adam fics!

@superdriver​ @siren-queen03​ @holacherrycola90​ @spencer-is-amazing​ @unusual-kindred-spirits​ @hailthemightywoecloud @holy-kylo-stars​ @kowalskibro-adamdriverblog​ @hurricanesunset​ 

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

[softyoongiionly]

Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Fourteen

(GIF isn’t mine)

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!!!, some moderate angst (later), smut (later later), slow-ish? burn.

Word Count: 10.3k (lol, i wanna die) 

A/N: please scream along with me as I drown in a pile of emotion. I’m sorry the last three chapters have been so emotional, yoongi is a complicated boi and, needs roughly 25k to get out all of his feelings. ALSO, the next chapter will finally feature Jimin’s showcase, please send him love and good luck. Not like he needs it lmao

I LOVE YOU

Warnings for this Chapter: moderate angst, SMUT (oh my god its alot), mentions of anxiety and hardship, language, too many feelings.

Warnings for the Fic: mentions characters confronting their fears, characters in uncomfortable situations, emotional moments between characters, mentions of bad parenting, explicit language throughout the fic, moderate angst, and very explicit smut later in the story.

Chapter 14: Angels and Angels

“Jimin, if you move again, I’m going to shove this needle into your perfectly sculpted butt cheek…” You mutter, pinching Jimin’s ass, the sweat on your brow growing significantly.  

This causes a giggle to erupt from your best friend, who is currently contorting his body so that he can stare at himself in the mirror. 

“Yah! Do you miss your little boyfriend that much that you have to take your sexual frustration out on me?” Jimin wiggles his ass in your face and, you admonish him with a smack to his hip as you try your best to finish sewing his costume. 

Jimin called you that morning in a panic after he had ripped his showcase outfit during rehearsal so, you had quickly rushed over after your morning classes to resolve his crisis. 

“He’s not my boyfriend…” You counter, a smile threatening your mouth, “I do miss him though…” 

Jimin stalls his movements, allowing you to finish up, “You really like him don’t you?” 

The smile comes in full force but, thankfully Jimin is facing away from you when it does. 

“Maybe…” 

He rolls his eyes but, allows your vague response, turning slightly to examine your handy work, “You should invite him tomorrow, I still haven’t met him…” 

There is a flutter in your stomach at Jimin’s suggestion. You know that Jimin gets extra credit for the number of people that attend and, having Yoongi there would fill an extra seat. 

All the more reason to invite him… 

“I mean, it’s a big night for you Minnie, if you’re ok with him being there then, I’ll see if he’s free.” You attempt to keep your tone casual but, you’re slightly nervous at the thought of Yoongi being there as your date. 

Professor James cancelled Tuesday’s lecture due to illness and, Yoongi texted you Thursday morning that he wouldn’t be in class that day. Not seeing him for an entire week didn’t exactly sit well with you but, you were determined to not read too much into his absence.  

Jimin smirks, smoothing his hands over his hips, head tilting side to side in the mirror, “It’s my fourth showcase Y/N, it’s not that big of a deal…” 

A scoff leaves your lips, “Um??? It’s your senior showcase, you’re the reigning champion and, you’re about to make history as the only collegiate dancer to win the showcase four years in a row; of course it’s a big deal!” 

He giggles as you shove him playfully, a bit of nervousness creeping into his gaze, “You really think I’m going to win again?” 

 “Jimin,” You turn him towards you, holding each of his wrists in your hands, “I know you’re going to win again.” 

His beautiful smile graces his lips as he thrusts himself in your arms, the white sequins scratching against your skin. You hold him anyway though, you know he needs it. 

“Thank you…” He mumbles into your hair, “I don’t know what I’d do without you…” 

You smile into his neck, the warmth of Jimin’s words filling your heart, “Oh Jimin….I don’t know what you’d do either…” 

He pinches your side, “YAH! Don’t be mean! I would survive…maybe…” 

Squirming out of his hold, you giggle, patting his hip gently, “I don’t know what I’d do without you either Park Fairy. I’d probably die…” 

He points at you,” Exactly, don’t be a brat…” His tone his firm but, the smile on his lips is hard to miss. Jimin turns his attention back towards his full length mirror again to examine his costume. 

It’s a beautiful piece, skintight, covered in white sequins and, thin pearlescent lycra that hug Jimin’s body perfectly. You wondered if this was his entire costume as Jimin was known for quite an elaborate set up. 

“I love this costume by the way, it’s beautiful,” You marvel, putting all of your sewing tools back in their box, “Is the theme still a surprise or can you end my suffering and tell me?” 

Jimin smirks, eyes carefully scanning over his backside,” It’s still a surprise, my leotard is only the base piece, I have a lot more in store…” 

“RIP my mascara…” You lament, snapping your sewing kit shut before grabbing your phone off of the coffee table, “Should I text him now?” 

He giggles, amusement coloring his face as he turns to you, “Why do you look so nervous?” 

“I’m not nervous.” You grumble, thumbs tapping away at your screen to get to your message thread with the dreamiest rapper on Earth aka Min Yoongi.  

The last message that you sent him was wishing him luck on the rest of his composition, which he has been working tirelessly at for the last half of the semester. He only responded with a thumbs up emoji and, that was yesterday at 7:49pm.  

Suddenly, as your fingers hover over the keys, you feel slightly insecure at the lack of communication between the two of you. Last weekend had been amazing and, Yoongi made sure that you arrived back at your apartment safely and during the week he had said something to the effect of ‘I miss you’ without actually saying it.  

Jimin notices your hesitation, “What’s wrong?” 

Your teeth find purchase on your lip but, you avoid his gaze and focus in on your phone. 

“Nothing…I just_” A sigh leaves your lips as you tap the screen to keep it from going black, “ I don’t know… Yoongi and I had a really good time last weekend and, I’m used to not really hearing from him but, I kind of thought after everything that happened between us, there would be a little more communication. I don’t expect him to text me all day or anything but, we both agreed that we liked each other….a lot so, I thought he’d…” 

“Act like a boyfriend?” Jimin offers, a bit of his playfulness diminishing, focusing in on your emotions. 

The word sends butterflies through your stomach but, you shove them out, trying not to drown in your emotions. 

“No…I mean yeah but, like we aren’t together yet so, I can’t expect him to…I don’t know…” Articulating your emotions is not always your strong suit and, for whatever reason, you seem to become especially impaired when Yoongi is involved. 

“Jagi…” Jimin begins, sitting beside you, the sequins scratching your skin as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “…you’re allowed to want his attention regardless of whether or not you both have a title. Titles are nice but, the feelings are much more important…” 

You deflate a little bit, leaning into Jimin, your teeth still working against your lip, “I really like him…like I want to wake up next to him and, make him breakfast and do cute shit with him and, I’m not used to feeling like this and, I want to crawl into a hole and, never come out…” 

Your pink fairy giggles, pressing a kiss to your head “Yah, you’re not allowed to crawl into a hole, my showcase is tomorrow…” 

“Can I do it after your showcase?” You mutter against his leotard, your thumb tapping your screen again to ensure that it doesn’t go black.  

Jimin scoffs, “I literally just told you that I can’t live without you, do you want me to die?”  

His brows are raised in playful accusation and, you try your best not to get to distracted by how adorable he is. 

“No...” You grumble, lips fixed in a firm pout 

He chuckles now, nudging your hand towards your phone, “Okay then, text him.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you unlock your phone for the third time and, begin typing your message. 

You: Hey, I’m not sure what you’re up to tomorrow, I know you’ve been working on your composition but, my best friend is performing in a dance showcase in the main theater. Do you want to come? I figured we could carpool and, maybe get dinner afterwards or something? Let me know when you get a chance! 

By the end of your message, you feel your heart doing somersaults beneath your sternum. Why the hell were you so nervous? Shouldn’t you be passed this by now? 

“See? I knew you could do it...” Jimin cheers, kissing your head once more before moving to carefully take off his costume. 

“Yes, now I just have to endure a slow painful death while waiting for him to respond...”  A sickly sweet smile is on your mouth which causes Jimin to throw his head back in laughter. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the dramatic one in this friendship?” 

“No Jimin, you’re the beautiful and talented main character and, I...”You gesture to your chest, “...am your socially inept, quirky side kick...” 

This earns another boisterous round of laughter from your best friend who is currently checking out his nearly naked body in the mirror.  

“Okay, first of all, thank you for calling me beautiful. Second of all, you’re can���t possibly be the sidekick...” 

Your eyes narrow, “Why not?” 

Jimin whips around in your direction, bubblegum hair a disheveled mess ontop of his head, a brilliant smile on his pretty lips, 

“Because you’re my hero...” 

With a mouth parted in shock, you process just how ridiculous your best friend is. At your expression,  

Jimin rushed into another fit of laughter as you respond. 

“Alexa, play Hate That I Love You by Rihanna...” 

 ------------------

After Jimin leaves, you wait approximately 5 hours before getting a response from Yoongi. The response does nothing to aid in soothing your nerves:

Yoongi: Hey sorry it took me so long to respond. I’ve been working, I think I may be able to go but, I was wondering what you were doing right now. I’m having some trouble sorting through something, I know it’s late though, so I understand if you’re sleeping.

Your brow furrows. His message seems odd but, you don’t want to pass up an opportunity to see him. Plus, you definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that he’s having an issue.

You: I can come by, what’s the address? Are you ok?

5 more minutes pass before another message comes in,

Yoongi: I just want to hang out, this week has been kind of rough.

Yoongi: 8294 Han Road. I’m in the 4th studio space. Just ring the front and, tell them you’re here for me, they should let you through. Sorry it’s so late.

You frown at his admission, wanting nothing more than to be with him now that you know your suspicion is correct.

You: Don’t be sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can.

His message comes through within seconds and, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at seeing him in his studio. There’s also this feeling; a feeling that indicates that something is wrong. Yoongi has never asked you to come see him and, that paired with his odd behavior this past week has your stomach in knots.

What if he didn’t want to see you anymore?

You both agreed that you liked eachother but, life was busy for the both of you. The conversation on the Ferris wheel inches its way back to the forefront of your mind. Yoongi said that you two getting together would be a bad idea, was he returning to that conclusion?

 He never explained why he felt that way in the first place.

The Uber ride to Yoongi’s studio costs you $9.78. You didn’t realize how close he was to your apartment and, as the car pulls up to the faded brick building, you feel your heartbeat grow to an alarming level.

“Thank you, have a good night…”

“No problem, have a good one.”

The exchange with the driver is short and, given that he didn’t talk to you the entire car ride, you decide to rate him 5 stars.

 As you approach the front entrance, you notice the soft blue neon sign hanging off of the door that reads: SoundCrowd.

Clever.

You’re definitely in the right place.

The door swings open effortlessly and, you’re met with an empty lobby. Tables, chairs and, various flyers containing the studios information are the only things that greet you when you walk in. The clear glass that separates the lobby from the reception desk make the whole place feel like some sort of medical clinic; it’s not exactly a beacon of creative energy. You hope Yoongi’s studio space was less clinical.

“Can I help you?” A deep but, friendly voice calls from behind the glass.

The receptionist is an older guy, maybe in his mid-30s, wearing what looks to be a ghost busters pajama set.

“Yeah, I was looking for Yoongi? He said he was in the 4th studio space…”

The man smirks knowingly, “You’re here for Min huh? Tell you what, I’ll let you through but, you have to promise me you’ll try to get him to go home. The dude’s been here for like four days straight…”

Your brow furrows, “Four days? Are you serious, he hasn’t gone home or anything?”

The man clicks his tongue, “I live upstairs, and his car’s been here since Monday. He used my shower about an hour ago but, other than that, I don’t even think he’s left the room…”

A sigh leaves your lips at the information, “Jesus.”

“Are you his girlfriend?”

The word makes your heart go fuzzy and, your first instinct is to say yes but, the last thing you need is for Yoongi to find out that you made your relationship official without him.   

“Uh no, we’re just_” You trail off, searching for the right word, “we’re dating but, he’s been a friend of mine for quite a while…”

He smirks, waving you over to him, “No need to explain, I’m just happy Min is getting some sort of human interaction. He’s been a god tier introvert ever since I’ve known him. I’m Sejin by the way…”

A hand is extended through the opening in the glass and, you accept it graciously, bowing your head.

“Y/N,” You smile, “it’s really good to meet you. How long have you guys known each other?”

Sejin squints his eyes for a moment, tilting his head in thought, “Oh geez uh, let’s see, Yoongi’s 25 this year…uh…ten years maybe?”

Your brows go up, “Oh wow, are you from Daegu too?”

At your seemingly normal question, Sejin grows visibly uncomfortable, as if a realization just crossed his brain. You fear you may be asking too many questions but before you can amend, Sejin speaks up again.

“Uh, Yoongi’s never mentioned me has he?”

“No, he hasn’t, I’m sorry…” You smile looking towards the buzzer near Seijin’s hand, wishing you would have just asked him to buzz you in.

“Oh don’t be sorry at all,” A soft smile is sent your way as he sees that you may have gotten the wrong impression. Sejin nods toward the door, “Yoongi lived with me for a while when he first came to the city, I’m a friend of his older brother. I’m sure he’ll tell you more about it if you ask; Here let me buzz you in, he’ll be straight down the hall to your right.”

Confusion swirls in the forefront of your mind but, you smile nonetheless, turning towards the door, “Thank you so much, it was nice meeting you.”

He bows his head, offering a small smile, “Nice meeting you too.”

There are rooms lining either side of the long hallway, some of which emit a low hum of music through their barriers.  Yoongi certainly isn’t the only night owl plugging away in the building.

Turning right at the end of the hall, you’re met with a black door boasting a sign that read “#4.” The irregular heartbeat is back as you raise your hand to knock at the door but, your desire to finally see Yoongi after nearly a week overruns the nervousness that you feel.

“Come in.” You hear his voice through the door and, quickly, you turn the knob and, let yourself in.

You’re met with a confusing sight. 

The studio space was dimly lit with a low hanging turquoise fixture that sends a calming wave of light throughout the small room. The walls contain various speakers and, electrical equipment and, along with a work desk, you notice a giant monitor, nearly the size of a flat screen and, every production tool that any musician could ever dream of. However, there was also several indicators that Sejin was right about Yoongi never leaving this room. There’s a black pull out couch on the right side of the room that looks like he hasn’t been slept in, a few pieces of Yoongi’s clothes scattered on the floor and, perhaps the most disturbing thing is the overflowing trashcan in the far corner of the room containing nothing but empty coffee cups. From what you can tell, there isn't a single take out box so, that either means that Yoongi has been taking his food trash out or, that he hasn’t been eating at all.

And then there’s Yoongi, who’s just turned to look at whoever just came through his door. He’s sitting in the black desk chair,  dressed in a pair of torn up black jeans and a grey hoodie, his formerly platinum hair is a faded brown now and damp from his shower. He musters a small smile for you, his normally cat like eyes are sunken in, clearly from a lack of sleep and, his lips are chapped, another indicator that he hasn’t been taking care of himself.

“Hey you…” You smile, setting your purse down by the door, trying to gauge what’s going through his mind.

“Hi…um thank you for coming…” He rasps, his eyes shifting nervously over you, fingers itching to reach out for you.

You shake your head, “Of course, is everything ok?”

Yoongi opens his mouth immediately as if he’s already has an answer prepared but, he deflates soon after, looking at you helplessly, “No, not really I-“

He takes a deep breath, looking away from you, trying to keep it together. You don’t say a word as you close the space between you, moving to stand in front of his seated figure. Instantly, you pull him into a warm hug, holding him tightly, not needing him to explain just yet.

Yoongi feels so much of the tension melt away from his body as he feels your embrace, his arms coming up to reciprocate, burying his face into your hip.

The two of you don’t speak for a few seconds but, you feel Yoongi shake silently, not daring to untuck his face from you as he lets the tears spill over his eyes.

This causes your heart to shatter but, you don’t break the silence yet, allowing him to process his pain how he needs to. You keep him close though and, rub his back soothingly as he collects himself.

“I’m sorry…” He mumbles into your yellow sweatshirt, regretting that he’s staining the material with tears, “I should have texted you more, I just…this week’s been really hard.”

You shake your head, holding him tighter, “Don’t be sorry, I knew you were working on your project this week, it’s completely ok…”

This is said for his benefit of course, you didn’t want him to worry about your fear that he had lost interest when he clearly had something much more pressing going on.

“I wanted to text you…the first night I got like this but-“ He cuts himself off to sniffle, still not releasing you from his grip. “I didn’t want to bother you, or freak you out or anything…”

“Hey-“ You tilt his face towards yours, thumbing away one of the tears that is attempting to roll down his face, “-you’re never a bother to me, especially if something is wrong…”

He turns his face to place a gentle kiss against your thumb before sighing out shakily against your skin, “I can’t get this fucking song right Y/N. I’ve been at this for 5 months now and, it always comes out wrong, I’ve rewritten it like 10 different times and, I can’t do it. It’s shitty. I’m not cut out for this, I’m not good enough to go pro, I should’ve_”

He trails off, his eyes reddening as the tears collect once more at the corners of his eyes, “ I should’ve listened to my father, he told me to major in business, he said this would happen and, he was fucking right.”

His words create a deep ache within your heart.

How could someone so talented, doubt their abilities so much?

It’s not the first time you’ve seen it but, you’ve yet to understand it.

“I know you’re upset, I know that this seems impossible right now and, you’re unbelievably frustrated but, Yoongi…” You tilt his head back towards yours, your gaze growing firmer, “You were born to do this. You are the most talented musician I’ve ever known and, the quality of your stuff? The way you write, the way you think, it’s a sign. It’s a sign that this is what you’re meant to do. You’re not meant to be in a suit, slaving away at a corporate job you don’t even like, that’s what everyone else is doing. Yes, it may be more stable, it may provide a steady income and, give your parents something to brag about but, it isn’t you. Your happiness is in music, I can see that. You light up when you talk about it, you lit up on that fucking stage, and had half the city eating out of the palm of your hands. You are so incredible, you have no idea…”

Yoongi feels his heart swell in his chest, no one has ever spoken to him about his music like this, not with this much passion. But then again, Yoongi’s never known another person like you, he’s never known another that can make him feel so good.

“But jagi…the song…it’s not coming together, my professor is going to hate it…” He urges, anxiety still squirming around in his stomach. He wraps his arms around you tighter though, feeling a bit of comfort at your words.

“Did you think the crowd at Glacier was going to hate your song too?” You point out and, as you do, he bites his lip, sniffling again.

“Yeah…I did…”

A hand is carded gently through his damp hair as you smile down at him, “And look what happened Agust D, you became the city’s champion underground rapper. Did you lock yourself up in this studio and live off of Americanos for weeks on end then too?”

A smile threatens his lips, “You remembered my order…” he sighs, nodding reluctantly at your question, “I do this a lot…”

A breath is released through your nose as you smile gently at his observation but, the frown between your brows remains, “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life Yoongi but, you can’t do this to yourself. I know self-doubt can be borderline parasitic sometimes but, you have to try and cut yourself some slack. I know how hard anxiety can be, I know it can make you feel like the world is coming to an end but, please know that you are so much more capable than you realize. Sometimes it helps to step away from something and, revisit it when you’ve had time to clear your head. I have to do that with my proposals all the time…”

Yoongi moves back slightly to wipe a hand over his face, taking a deep breath as he nods in consideration of your words, “You’re right…I know you’re right. It’s just hard for me not to fall into this cycle sometimes. I got help when I started school, for my anxiety and, it helped but, old habits die hard you know? I just start overthinking everything…I can never get rid of that part.”

You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead before slowly helping him to his feet. “You might not ever get rid of that, you’re only human. Overthinking is my first reaction too but, over the years, I’ve slowly learned to not trust every crazy scenario my brain comes up with.”

He smiles and, this time you see it reach his eyes, the sight calms you significantly. “You’re…”

Yoongi shakes his head, “I knew you’d say the right thing, you always do…”

“Come here.” You smile, pulling him into a hug, tucking your face into his neck, “I’m sorry you’ve been going through this…try to reach out earlier next time ok? So this doesn’t go on so long, you know I’m here for you.”

He nods sagely, rubbing his hands on your lower back, “ I will, I promise…”

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

Roughly an hour later, after you’ve gotten Yoongi to eat a good meal, the two of you start indulging in one another, the lack of contact starting to get to both of you. 

Your lips peck against Yoongi’s gently, just as a means to soothe him, your hands placed firmly on his shoulders.

 “I just...” He whispers against your mouth, attempting to melt away against your touch.   

He needs it, now more than ever.  

“Hm?” You hum gently, combing your fingers through his hair, nails scratching tenderly at his scalp.  

“I just don’t want to think anymore.” He breathes, responding more and more to the kisses placed against his lips.  

The column of his throat is eagerly arching towards your lips in a silent invitation. At the sight of his swallow, tender flesh, you frown at the lack of color there.  

“Your marks are gone.” You murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth  

Yoongi swears he wants to cry. He's kept his distance all week, trying to make sense of his emotions, trying to perfect his composition. But now, with you here, touching him, loving on him, he realizes how desperate he is for you; for relief.  

“Make new ones please...I just want to stop thinking...help me.” He practically keens his response but, he keeps it in check for the most part, not wanting you to consent for the wrong reasons.   

You bring your eyes to his, holding his desperate gaze, a smirk beginning to play on your lips.  

“How do you want me to help you?” You tease, encouraging him to articulate his desires.   

His cheeks flush even more, his Adams apple bobbing as he attempts to swallow back his nerves.  

He doesn’t know what’s come over him but, your tone compels him to his knees and, as his jean clad limbs touch the tile, he speaks, “You know...you know me, you know how to take care of me...”   

The response goes straight between your thighs; his small voice, his display of respect, you can tell this is something he’s had on his mind or awhile and, after the week he’s endured, you conclude that he needs to let loose.   

A finger is curled under his chin, directing his cat-like eyes up towards your own. You can tell he’s nervous but, the way he shifts eagerly on the floor tells you he’s more than ready for you.  

“You think so?” You coo, thumbing over his chin, smirking down at him  

He nods eagerly at the conclusion of your first sentence but, continues to nod throughout your teasing.  

“Use your words...” You urge, tightening your grip on his chin, admiring how beautiful he is on his knees.   

“Ye--...” His voice is already shot so, he clears his throat attempting to speak clearer, “Yes...”  

Your teeth press into your bottom lip, as your hand moves from his chin to push his faded brown hair away from his forehead.  

 “You want me to call the shots so you don’t have to?” You’re taking your time to rile him up, knowing it will pay off for him in the end.  

Another eager nod comes from Yoongi as he pushes against your hand, his doll-like lips going dry from his heavy breathing.  

“Yeah...I trust you; I’ll be so good for you, I promise.” He vows, lips brushing against your wrist, his dark eyes never once leaving yours.  “Please…” 

You tug on his hair then, drawing a whimper deep from within his chest. Yoongi feels his nipples harden as the pain pricks deliciously against his scalp.  

“You like this right? When I pull on it?”   

“Yes.” He breathes, shivering as your fingers brush across his lips and, down over his neck.  

“And...” You whisper, keeping your tone gentle as your hand wraps around Yoongi’s throat.  

This causes him to exhale shakily, his cautious eyes widening like saucers as he stares up at you.  

“Wh-…"  

You attempt to finish your sentence but, Yoongi’s shaky voice beats you to it, his request tumbling clumsily past his lips.  

“Fuck...please choke me...”  

He sounds so weak and, yet so sure of himself at the same time. You two had just begun breaching your sexual interests but, stepping into true dominant/submissive roles is something you’ve yet to do.

Whatever is about to happen, is going to be completely new territory for the both of you.   

The tightening around Yoongi’s throat makes him see stars; he feels like one of those cartoon characters that’s just been hit with a ton of bricks. Its intoxicating.   

“Oh-” Yoongi’s voice is raspier underneath your grip, his dick plumping up painfully against the zipper of his jeans.   

“You like when I choke you?” You coo, still holding his throat but, decreasing the pressure slightly.  

He nods, gasping as you tighten your grip again, testing the waters. Yoongi can already feel the dampness in his jeans but, he doesn’t care, he wants so much more tonight; he wants you to ruin him.   

“Use your words...” You remind him gently, urging him to open up as your free hand combs back through his hair.  

He exhales shakily once again, “Yes...”  

A fond smile is on your face then as you take a moment to run your fingers through his chestnut locks. You slowly urge him towards you so that he’s close enough to rest his chin against the center of your stomach. Yoongi stares up eagerly, awaiting instructions, his breathing uneven and, you take the small moment of silence to tug on his hair again. This causes his hands to come up and grip your outer thighs in desperation and, if he wasn’t already suffering in his jeans before, he definitely is now.   

With a salacious smirk you slowly bend at the waist so you can brush your lips against Yoongi’s, holding his gaze all the while, “I need a safe word from you...can you think of one for me?”   

Yoongi can’t think of anything aside from you at the moment along with his painfully hard dick threatening to bust out of his jeans but, he tries his best to wrack his brain for a suitable answer.  

“Dragon.”   

He scans your face for approval, hoping his choice was sufficient and, if you weren’t fulfilling the role of caretaker, you would be melting onto the floor right now.  

“Dragon it is...” You smile, combing a hand through his hair again, resisting the urge to tug on it, “You use that word anytime you need to ok? And we’ll stop...”  

Yoongi returns your smile, exhaling at the touch of your fingers, “Ok...”  

“Good boy.” The words are spoken into his hair when you lean over to kiss the top of his head. His hands haven’t moved from the outside of your thighs and, at the touch of your lips, he squeezes them again, “Stand up for me.”  

At your request, you move away from him, offering your hands as support. Yoongi looks at them tentatively before interlocking his fingers with yours and, slowly moving to his feet. Through the holes in his jeans, you can see how red his knees got from kneeling on the floor.  

You want the rest of him to match...  

“Come here...” You practically coo at him, curling a finger in your direction, beckoning him towards you. Yoongi never takes his eyes off of you as he takes the three steps necessary to reach you. As he stands before you, you keep his eye contact and, curl your fingers underneath the hem of his grey hoodie.  

“Arms up.”   

He obliges immediately, raising them high above his head, allowing you to slowly pull the material off of his body. Yoongi feels the hairs on his arms stand at attention as the cooler air of the studio hits his exposed skin. Without instruction you hook a finger underneath his chin and, silently bring his lips to yours. The two of you kiss, slow and sweet, taking time to lull deeper into one another. Your tongue slips in first, laving against Yoongi’s timid but eager mouth, as your hands begin slowly moving up the sides of his torso. A smirk is pushed into the kiss when Yoongi shivers at your touch, his whole body on fire for you.   

“You trust me to take care of you right?” You murmur into his mouth and, not two seconds go by before he’s nodding. “You’re gonna be good for me?”  

A half of a whimper slips out of Yoongi’s swollen lips, his hands come out to touch your waist as he nods again.  

“Yes, I’ll be good...”  

You smirk again, deciding that one of your goals tonight is to get Yoongi to feel more comfortable talking dirty to you. It’s a quality he possesses and, you can tell it’s something he’s into but, it takes a certain level of lust to send him there.   

“Why are you gonna be good for me?” The question is spoken between a few kisses and, you can’t express the delight you feel when he’s cheeks go red again.  

“Because-” His words are cut off as you slowly start to tickle your fingers over his ribs, the pads of your thumbs inching toward his erect nipples. “…. you deserve my respect. You deserve my obedience...”  

Good answer.  

“What makes me so deserving hm?” You coo against his neck, sucking gently against the sweet spot at the juncture of his collar bone. Before he can answer, you swipe your thumbs over his nipples. Yoongi swears he already feels like he’s going to pass out but, he does his best to answer coherently.   

“All women deserve my respect but, you...” He breathes, his head falling back on his shoulders, exposing his skin to you,, his hips rutting forward as you continue brushing your thumbs over his nipples, “you’re the best woman I know...you always take care of me, you’re always so nice to me. I wanna give you everything I can, so I’m worthy for you.”   

Yoongi is more than worthy enough for you but, given his history with insecurity, you can’t say his answer surprises you. However, if you weren’t melting into the floor before, you certainly are now.   

“You are worthy angel, come here...” The whispered command brings Yoongi’s mouth back onto yours as he swears he could cry at the particular pet name you just chose.  

Do you really think he’s an angel?  

He can’t imagine why...  

With your bodies pressed together and, your lips delicately tending to his, you speak again, initiating the rest of your plan, “Are you ready to play Yoongi?”  

Another nod comes from the angel in question, his nose nudging against yours as he does,   

“Mhm...”  

God, you didn’t know you’d be this into his submission but, here you are, completely drenched and he hasn’t even touched you yet.   

“Sit down on the chair for me, hands on the arm rests.” 

He follows orders, sitting down on his desk chair, spreading his legs to accommodate the throbbing erection pushing against his zipper.  His long fingers curl over the edges of the arm rests as his chest rises and falls with his increasing heartrate.     

You watch him carefully, mulling over multiple options that will hopefully make him cum so hard he can’t think straight. The first move you make is removing your hoodie, baring your black lacy bra to him: an article of clothing you chose specifically because you knew he liked it.  

The thing is though, Yoongi is no ordinary man. When he’s truly submitting, he does nothing without permission, not even look at you. Even as you step in front of him, Yoongi’s eyes stay glued to the floor but, the ever increasing motion of his chest gives away his reaction.  

“Didn’t you miss me Yoongi? Why aren’t you looking at me?” You grin, knowing the answer already 

He shakes his head, not wanting you to misunderstand him, “I missed you, so much, I just hadn’t asked permission to look at you yet. May I look at you?” 

“You may.” 

He doesn’t need further coaxing. He immediately brings his eyes up to your body, scanning over you eagerly, wincing as he feels his dick twitch in his jeans. 

“So pretty...” He murmurs, eyes full of adoration, “thank you for letting me see you...” 

“Don’t look away.” You demand softly, smirking in his direction as you slowly unclip your bra, revealing your breasts to him. As the cool air of the studio hits your sensitive chest, your nipples harden causing Yoongi to finally lick his lips.  

He wants them in his mouth so badly but, he wouldn’t dare question your plan. He knows you’re going to do right by him. 

“Jagi...” Yoongi pulls in another deep breath to calm himself, resisting the urge to gawk at you, “you’re so beautiful...” 

You’ve moved in closer to him, standing between his thighs in just your leggings before dipping down to kneel on the floor. 

As your nails slowly slide up his legs, you respond, “I wish you knew how beautiful I think you are...maybe then you’d be able to see what I see.” 

Yoongi’s lips part in awe of what you just said, feeling very overwhelmed before the two of you have even started.  

“You think_” He exhales, eyes fluttering with the sensation of your fingers inching closer to the inseam of his jeans, “…you think I’m beautiful?”

Your fingers tickle over his inner thighs before crawling over his unstable hips and towards his zipper. As you reach his erection, your eyes travel to his, catching a glimpse of his fucked out expression. His pupils are dilated, his lips are swollen, cheeks pink and puffy like fresh cherry blossoms, his fingers twitch on the arm rests; he’s growing desperate with anticipation.

“You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen Min Yoongi. I wouldn’t be caught dead on my knees for any other man…” You whisper, holding his gaze as you yank down his zipper, the motion causing a gasp to leave his lips. The relief is minimal but, Yoongi is grateful that his swollen dick finally has the room fully stand at attention. 

You deserve his full attention.

“You’re beautiful…” Is all he manages, his ability to form coherent sentences slowly slipping away.

His hips are lifted at your instructions as you pull his jeans and boxers from his hips, leaving him completely exposed to you. Yoongi feels a little insecure, his got a bit of a tummy on him as he’s been skipping the gym and, eating nothing but takeout the past few months. He didn’t shave either and, he’s waiting for some sort of negative reaction from you but, instead he feels the sharp pull of arousal in his stomach as you start kissing up his thighs.

“I should punish you for the way you’ve treated yourself this past week…” You admonish before taking the tender flesh of his inner thigh between your teeth, sucking hard enough to make him squirm.

Yoongi’s breath catches as he winces from the pain, his thigh jumping away from the sensation, “I’m sorry…I’m really sorry.”

Your tongue laves over the battered flesh before you make your way to the other thigh, taking time to blow cool air over his engorged dick. He shivers whilst thinking of what he would give to be in your mouth right now but, he won’t beg. He won’t try and sway you in any direction; he wants your full control.

“I told you last weekend not to talk shit to yourself didn’t I? So you can imagine my surprise when I come in here tonight and, you’re doing just that…you don’t want to disobey me do you?” You coo, pouting your lips before sucking his skin back between your teeth, creating an identical mark on his right thigh.

“Ah-“ He whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling rather tipsy at the sensation of pain, “No…of course not. I want to listen…”

A dark chuckle leaves your lips as you start placing kisses up his thigh, a wicked sense of delight coursing when his dick twitches towards your mouth, “Oh he wants to listen now does he?  Is it because my lips are so close to your dick?”

Yoongi grips the arm rests, his fingers slipping off due to the sweat created by his palms. Despite the cool temperature of the room, he feels like he’s on fire, he doesn’t think his ever been this turned on in his life.

“No, that’s not the only reason…” His hips jerk along with his stomach trembling when he feels your nails tickle their way over his hips, “I want to be good for you.”

As your nails conclude their teasing over his lower stomach, you let them rest against his hip bones as you ask your next question, “Mm, then you’ll sit there like a good boy while I have my way with you then won’t you?”

Before he can answer your question, a ragged whimper leaves his throat when you scratch your nails harshly across his soft pale skin, leaving aggravated lines of red as you do.

“Oh my fucking god…” He mumbles, eyes watering when his dick does the impossible and swells further, “I’d sit here like a good boy no matter what you wanted to do to me…”

He confesses, his faded chestnut hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes completely blown out with lust.

You prepare your nails to scratch him again and tickle them up the sides of his body, taking a moment to brush your fingertips over his pert nipples. Yoongi’s body is really sensitive but, his chest in particular always garnishes a special reaction from him. Your nails settle right where his heart is and, you can actually feel it pounding against his chest, “I want you to touch yourself for me…can you do that?”

Yoongi lets out a shaky breath and, once again you interrupt his answer by dragging your nails across his chest, digging in harder this time.

He actually feels his dick leaking at the sensation whilst his body arches off the desk chair, craving more of your touch.

“I have to go slow…I’m so hard right now, I don’t know how I’m gonna last….” He warns, his eyes shifting in uncertainty and, you take the time to admire how utterly innocent he looks.

Yoongi may be intimidating to those who don’t know him but, to you, with you, he is the softest man you’ve ever known.

But now isn’t the time for tenderness, you know what he needs.

He needs to be ruined.

So you’ll do just that…

Your hand comes out to wrap around his neck which elicits another gasp from his pink lips, his body going limp at your touch. You squeeze gently, just enough to slow the air circulation and lean in so your lips can brush against his.

“You’ll last because I tell you to last, because this dick belongs to me doesn’t it?”

Yoongi’s face is weak with pleasure as he nods eagerly, a small whimper leaving his lips, “Uh huh…”

A smirk forms on your lips as you squeeze his throat a little tighter, his dick jumping in response, “Say it…”

“My…my dick is yours jagi…” He gasps when you use your free hand to brush gently over his aching nipples, the sensation a huge contrast from what you’re doing to his throat.

“Your cum is mine…” You egg him on, dragging the pad of your thumb gently over either of his nipples.

“Ugh fuck…” He curses, his eyes locking onto yours and lull in and out of focus, “My cum is yours…everything is yours…”

Licking your lips, you loosen your grip slightly, giggling wickedly as he tries to reach for your lips, “You want me to hurt you while you jack off baby?”

Yoongi swears you must be sent from heaven, or maybe hell, either way, he’s dancing on the edges of euphoria at the moment. It’s like you know exactly what he’s thinking, he’s never known anyone who can anticipate his desires so well.

“Mhm…” He hums, the sound edging very close to a coo.

There is something that crosses your mind, something you hadn’t thought of before this began: was Yoongi capable of going into subspace? Because the glossy eyed expression, the yearning look, the pliant posture and slack jaw, everything about him looks like he’s heading in that direction.

“Yeah? You want me to hurt you really good?”

His mouth falls open as soon as you slide your cupped hand up his throat, your thumb brushing tenderly against his lips, “Yeah…please hurt me…”

Oh fuck, he’s right there…

“Suck…” You command gently, staring into his eyes, which have started to glaze over at your touch. He takes your thumb in his mouth, sucking eagerly, holding your eyes for approval, laving his tongue against the tip of it. “show me how you touch yourself baby…”

He nods, still sucking on your thumb before removing his sweaty hand down to his aching length. Yoongi’s eyes squeeze shut as he slowly curves a fist around himself, and, his leg twitches when he starts stroking his dick.

The relief is instant and, you feel the vibrations of his moans against your thumb. As he works himself up, you move away from him to kneel back between his knees.

His breathing is heavier, his toes are fidgeting against the floor but, his eyes refuse to leave yours, even as they threaten to close from pleasure.

You slowly tease your nails down his chest, over his ribs and hips, dangerously close to his dick, over his now bruised inner thighs and, all the way down to his ankles.

He brushes his thumb over his tip, a small whimper leaving his lips as his eyes squeeze close at the sensation. He’s already close, you’ve been winding him up for the past 45 minutes but, he holds on desperately, not wanting this to end.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself Yoongi?”

He takes another shaky breath and, does his best to swallow properly, despite his mouth being completely dry, “Lately, all I think about is you…I don’t even watch porn that often…”

Before you ask another question, you dig your nails into his calves and slowly begin dragging them up his legs. His whole body jerks in response, his hand faltering over his tip, he has to pull away for a moment, he almost came right there.

“ohmygod….” He keens, mostly to his self, his wide eyes looking away for a moment while he desperately tries to get a hold of himself.

“Oh but, you do watch porn? You’re cumming for other women then?” You tease and, Yoongi would panic that you’re actually upset but, the playful smirk on your face tells him that you’re just giving him a hard time.

“I don’t watch women…” He breathes, a ghost of smirk now playing on his own lips, “I watch men mostly, women in porn are annoying…they’re all annoying honestly…”

This makes you giggle but, you feel yourself growing wetter at the thought of Yoongi, getting off to men.

“So you think of me sometimes?” You’re still teasing him and, he knows you’re fishing but, he’s so into you he doesn’t care; he’d write a fucking thesis on you if he had the time.

He shakes his head, stifling a moan as you drag your nails over his hips when his hand reaches the tip of his dick; he really doesn’t know how he’s going to last.

“No…you don’t get it…” His breath is fucked and, his dick is so hard he wants to cry, it takes everything in him not to beg, “I think about you all the time…I’ve been thinking about you, ever since I came to your house that first time…”

Lust swirls deep in your panties; you don’t know how much longer you’re going to be able to do this either, his dick looks so good, hard, swollen and aching to be fucked. But you haven’t finished ruining him yet, you want him completely desperate before you give in.

“When I pulled your hair the first time?” You smirk, your hands travelling up his body once again as he nods, licking over his lips.

“Ye…yeah…that’s why I left so quickly, you made me hard…” He gasps again as your hand makes it back up to his neck, “…I…are you gonna choke me again?” His eyes look wary, almost frightened, the motions on his dick slowing again, “I don’t….jagi, I don’t know what to do…I don’t want to disappoint you but, if you…if you choke me again, I don’t…”

You smirk, tightening your hand around his neck before he can finish his sentence, “You’re gonna what baby?

“Oh fuck-“ He squeaks, his eyes starting to water when he squeezes over his tip, trying to halt his release, “Jagiya…I can’t…I can’t hold it, you have to stop…”

“Hold it, or I’ll tie you to this chair and leave you like this…” You hiss into his mouth, and his brow furrows in desperation but, his balls tighten further at your threat. The hand around his neck doesn’t cease its constriction and, his hand actually begins to move faster on his length.

His starting to learn…

“Good boy…don’t stop…” You kiss at his lips but, not long enough for him to respond to you, his whole body on fire and shivering at the same time.

Yoongi nods in determination, a shaky breath leaving his nose as he follows orders. He tenses however as you stand up, your left hand coming up to comb through his hair, which is matted against his forehead with sweat.

“Please…” He whimpers but, its not for permission to cum, you know exactly what it’s for.

Curling your fingers around the roots of his hair you tug hard enough to push his head back against the desk chair and, before he can even react, you use your other hand to tighten around his throat.

That’s it, that’s what breaks him.

Tears collect at the corner of his eyes as they widen like saucers, his mouth falling back open as he tries to cry out but, he’s too hoarse to do so.

“Y/N please…baby…baby please, pleasefuckme, pleasefuckme, I can’t…I need you...“ He’s completely lost it, he’s rambling, his eyes aren’t even in focus.

He isn’t even really looking at you but, you know you’ve got him, he’s made it there.

In less than ten seconds, he’s out of the desk chair and onto the pull out couch. He trembles beneath you; his hands reach up as if the lack of contact is painful.

Leaning down to him, you press a tender kiss to his lips to which he responds like a starving man.

“Please jagi…please I need you so bad, I’m sorry I need you, I need you…I really fucking need you…” He sounds like his about to cry and you nod, your tenderness returning just as quickly as it left, your panties pushed haphazardly off of your hips

“Hey…hey...I’m coming angel, I’m coming, just breath for me ok? I’m going to make it better…” You coo, pressing him gently into the squeaky mattress of the pull out couch, the cool sheets welcome against his hot skin.

He nods, not fully able to focus as he wraps his hands around your hips. You press another kiss to his lips before your final command is given, “As soon as I sink down onto you, I want you to cum ok? Can you do that for me?”

Yoongi’s bleary gaze finally locks onto your eyes, his body weakened with desire, “I’ll do anything for you…”

You can’t even recognize his voice, it’s so small, so weak and, so in…

You can’t say it.

Not yet.

But you can feel it, its bubbling right underneath the surface.

As soon as you sink down on him, you give him a few good strokes of your drenched heat before his whole body arches off the bed. Yoongi’s face is buried into your neck, his dull nails dig into your hips as he lets out a cry that shatters you.

You can feel how much he’s cumming as shot after shot of his release paints the inside of you. He’s cumming so hard that he starts crying, his silent whimpering enough to send you over the edge with him.

“don’t stop…don’t stop…” He cries into your neck, holding you so tight to him that it restricts your movements.

All you can do is nod as white hot pleasure takes over your senses, your orgasm just as intense given the events of the last hour.

Yoongi completely loses himself, he cums again, his hips glued to yours as he cries for you. Part of him would feel embarrassed but, he’s too fucked out to care. He’s too in…

Not yet.

He can’t say it, but it’s in his throat.

Its in his heart.

God, he’s never felt so good in his life, he never knew it could be this good.

“Y/N…” He croaks when your hips start settling down. His face doesn’t leave your neck but, he starts sucking gently on it, trying to ground himself.

He feels like he’s floating.

“Baby…” Yoongi practically coos, hands glued to your skin, still sniffling as his tears slowly come to a halt.

The smile that graces your face is brilliant and full of adoration. You slowly pull off of him, “I’m right here angel, I got you…”

You want to get him in a more comfortable position so you can hold him but when you try to pull away to do so, he panics, his glossy eyes widening in fear.

“No…no…” He tries to protest but, you kiss his forehead to reassure him

“Shh…I’m not going anywhere, I just want to hold you…come here for me…” You murmur, kissing his forehead again.

He’s suspicious, not thinking clearly but, he trusts you, not moving more than an inch away from your body as you shift the two of you to sit against the back of the couch. Yoongi scrambles to get closer to you, making himself smaller as he lays his upper half into your chest, tucking his face back into your neck.

“I got you baby boy, I got you…” You whisper, hoping the soft blue light in the studio will soothe him further along with gentle kisses pressed to his skin, “You did so good for me angel…”

Silent tears fall down his cheeks as he tucks further into you, “I did good?”

He checks again, feeling so vulnerable and, yet so safe at the same time.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead, your nails gently combing his hair back, “You did amazing. You were so good for me.”

His small mouth curves in a dreamy smile, still trembling but, feeling slightly more grounded, “You keep calling me angel….you’re the angel…my angel.”

“You can’t steal my nickname…” You giggle, causing his small smile to turn into a gummier smile as he nuzzles your neck.

“So pretty…” Is all he can think of to say but, you know he’s talking about your laugh.

God, you feel like crying right now though, you could have never guessed that you could feel this strongly about another person.

When a comfortable silence falls over you, you take a moment to notice how banged up he really is. His body is decorated with pinks and purples, scratches, bites, a hicky or two; you really did a number on him and, you want to take care of his skin before it gets too uncomfortable.

“Yoongi? Baby, I need to put something on your scratches, I have cooling gel in my bag-“ You begin to say but, his eyes quickly widen again and, the same panicked look returns.

“Don’t…don’t go-“ He urges, holding you tighter.

You know it’s a symptom of him being in subspace, he doesn’t actually think your leaving but, a lack of contact with you makes him nervous.

“I’ll come right back, my bag is on the floor…” You assure him gently, pressing a kiss between his eyes.

His eyes flutter shut at your kiss and, his hands tighten on you one last time before, he kind of gets a grip on himself.

He knows he’s being a little unreasonable but, he’s never felt like this before, he feels intoxicated and so incredibly needy.

“Ok…” He reluctantly agrees

Another kiss is placed to his forehead before you move quickly to retrieve the gel from your purse. As soon as you sit back down with him, he immediately wraps himself around you, hiding away in your neck as you start to apply the gel to his skin. His breathing is beginning to even out as he melts into you, letting you take care of him.

Like you always do…

“How do you feel?” You whisper into his hair as you smooth the substance over his neck, which has reddened slightly.

“I feel high…” He muses, sounding a little bit more like himself.

His response causes you to giggle, “I’m that good huh?”

Yoongi smirks, kissing your neck slowly, “You invented sex…”

Another giggle bubbles over your lips, as you pull the sheet over Yoongi’s body, “Do you feel better then?”

“Mhm…” He hums into your neck, kissing up the length of it before finding your lips. A soft kiss is placed there before he speaks again, “I wish I could articulate better but, you fucked me stupid jagi…”

Smiling into the kiss, you comb a hand through his hair, scratching gently at the scalp, “Don’t worry about it, take your time, I’m right here if you need me…”

The two of you stay like this for quite some time, holding each other, as you slowly settle back down. Yoongi stays quiet for the most part, doing his best to center his thinking which proves to be quite easy as the only thing he can really think about is you.

A half an hour passes before he finally speaks up, feeling the need to explain something to you.

“I used to live here…” He murmurs, face still tucked into your chest

Your brow furrows at his statement, “Here? At the studio?”

He shakes his head, “It wasn’t always a studio, ten years ago it was a halfway house for troubled youth…”

The beating of your heart stalls but, as you open your mouth to respond, Yoongi continues, his voice stabilizing finally, “My parents are not supportive of what I do. When I was a teenager, we used to fight all the time about it. They tried to force me to stop but, I never listened. I snuck out to do music all the time and, started failing out of school. One night, my father came in and freaked out on me, he destroyed my lyric pages and, threw everything away. The next day, I came home from school and, they had kicked me out. My older brother tried to stop them but, they wouldn’t listen...”

Your chest feels tight as you try your hardest not to let your emotions overflow; you never knew how much Yoongi has endured.

“Sejin, the guy at the front desk, he’s a friend of my older brother,” He rasps, placing another kiss to your skin as a means to soothe himself, “he took me in with nothing but my old laptop and, the clothes on my back. My parents wouldn’t let me take anything. I finished school in the city and, ended up landing a scholarship at our university, that’s where I met Hobi and, reconnected with Namjoon. Once he found out what happened to me, he insisted I move in with him while I got my degree. The rest you already know…”

You hold him tighter, kissing his forehead for the 100th time, “I’m so sorry Yoongi, I didn’t know you went through all of that. You’re so strong for pushing towards your dreams despite everything being so hard for you…”

He smiles gently and the wise look has settled back into his eyes as he looks up at you, “You see why I get a little nervous sometimes now…I’m so worried that my parents are going to be right.”

Nodding, you thumb over his cheek, “I do but, please know that you’ve already proved your parents wrong. After everything you’ve endured, you still keep pushing and, as long as you keep dreaming, you’ll never fail…”

A sudden kiss is pressed to your lips then, which Yoongi turns slow and sweet.

Just like him…

“On my worst days, I tell myself that all of this will be worth it someday…” He whispers against your lips, continuing to kiss at them

“It will be, everything will pay off...”

“It’s already started to…ever since my classroom switched…” He smiles, brushing a piece of hair from your face.

Intense emotion blooms fully in your heart when he responds and, you have to shake your head to keep yourself from crying, “Does that mean you’ll be my date tomorrow then?”

He chuckles, his eyes brightening up significantly as he leans into your lips,

“Tomorrow and, any other time you’ll have me.”

if you let me, here’s what i’ll do: i’ll take care of you

[poptod]

The Dead Heed No Lies (Ch. 2)

Description: If you won't join the life of the party upstairs, the life of the party comes to you.

Notes: Building up. Word Count: 1.9k

Chapter Two: Holed Up

It had been approximately a week since you’d fainted in the break room, found by Ahkmenrah, who was apparently worried about you after you hadn’t returned, even as dawn approached. When you came fully back to consciousness, he sat with you, explaining what the tablet did, how it needed moonlight, which was the real reason for the transfer. He further explained that it only worked during the night, which was why everything seemed so still during the day. He’d been gracious about the whole fainting thing, telling you that it wasn’t entirely unexpected, simply wishing you a better day ahead of you before he left to his exhibit.

You decided not to accompany him. Watching a man crawl into his own grave to die seemed like something that wouldn’t be good for you.

“How long are you staying here?” You asked Tilly, watching from the balcony as chaos ensued in the form of an almost hysterical party.

“Dunno, this is a pretty prestigious museum. But should be for another few months.”

“That’s quite a while,” you noted, nodding in a mildly impressed manner.

“Should give you enough time to get to know Ahk more,” she said, leaning over to you, attempting horridly at a wink.

“I - what?”

“You know, you and the King,” she said, saying his title with a theatrical form of reverence.

“… Right. Me and the King. What is this, Disney?” You shook your head, chuckling to yourself.

“What? You’d make a great couple,” she said, nudging you with her elbow.

“Til, I barely know him. You’re seeing things.”

“Whatever you say,” she said skeptically, turning and leaving down the stairs.

The whole notion she was proposing was ridiculous. You’d spoken to him a grand total of three times, the first being when you met him, the second was him waking you from a black out, and the third was you accidentally running into his parents, and he quickly introduced you to them.

On the whole, the conversation wasn’t bad, but it could’ve gone better. It felt rather like a young teen who had modern ideals with two racist parents, but this time it was an actual King and Queen who had Jewish slaves and their son, who had apparently never agreed with that.

You didn’t agree with it either, being Jewish yourself. After his parents had left, Ahkmenrah explained that it wasn’t the first time it’d happened, that it was equally embarrassing as it was funny. You agreed, and quickly excused yourself.

As fun as it was to be upstairs during the night of life, you had a job, and it couldn’t be avoided. Especially since McPhee was now breathing down your back, which was a change, because usually he was at home, asleep, during your work hours. Now, fully awake, he was free to observe your every movement. Not that he did, he was busy making sure nothing in the museum was destroyed. You stayed far away, in the basement, locked up and sorting through the archives.

Every now and then Tilly would come down, asking you to take a break, which you nearly always declined.

Then the King visited you.

You could tell it was him without even looking up, from the way his cloak dragged across the ground, and his sandals hitting the asphalt.

“Hi Ahk,” you said, not looking up from the papers you were sorting.

Man killed 150 bears in American wilderness, original article…

“Hello. How’d you know it was me?” He asked, chuckling as he sat down beside you. That was something you hadn’t expected of him when you first met him - for him to be normal, to stoop down to your level. Sit with you on the ground, cross legged, looking like a perfectly normal man in an impeccable costume. Warm and human.

“I can hear your cloak. No one else wears a cloak,” you said, smiling as you looked at him, before looking right back down again.

“Ah. Suppose it does sort of… give it away,” he said, fumbling with his cape in his fingers.

“It’s fantastic material, though. I assume it’s the same clothing you were embalmed with?” You said, and without thought you fingered the material, always wondering what fine cloth would feel like. As much as you studied history, you never actually experienced any of the findings it brought.

“Oh, uh, yes. It is. Gold sewn in and all. I think we were a little dramatic back then,” he laughed quietly, his eyes fixed on your hands.

You knew it was inappropriate, but dear God it was soft.

“Well you had a lot of gold. Symbol of status, a way of letting people know how much you were worth. It’s like people owning mansions nowadays, buying fancy cars. Just a show of wealth and status.”

“Unsightly,” he joked.

“Unseemly,” you said with a chuckle, playing along. After a moment of quiet giggles you turned back to your papers, continuing to sort through them though it was the last thing you wanted to be doing. Here you were, studying historical records when a literal goldmine of information was in front of you, and he acted quite like he liked you, and a lot, always open to talk, always trying to learn more about you. Overall, very friendly.

“Ahkmenrah, I was wondering,” you started, setting your papers down. The more you looked at them, the duller they got. He looked expectantly at you, so you continued.

“There’s hardly any mention of you at all in any history books. No statues, we only found out you existed when we found your, um. Your sarcophagus. Do you have any idea as to why that is?”

It was, maybe, a sensitive topic. Maybe it was a question he didn’t know the answer to. Either way it evoked some emotional reaction out of him as he shifted uncomfortably, tucking his feet and hands further into himself in a psychological sign of defensiveness.

“I didn’t know, for a while. I found out later when my parents told me. I don’t remember this for whatever reason but my brother killed me, and uh… took the throne? It was his birthright, to be fair,” he said, defending him though he deserved none of it.

“He was older than you, but your parents gave you the throne?”

“Yes. I know it’s odd,” he sighed, relaxing as he leaned back on his arms. “But they thought it would be a better decision if I ruled instead of him, and generally speaking, I think they were right. My brother’s a bit, ah, bloodthirsty, you could call it?”

The two of you laughed, but you wondered what in the hell his brother could’ve done in Egyptian times to be considered bloodthirsty enough to pass the throne to the younger child.

“Anyway, he poisoned me, and my parents were still alive when this happened, but they couldn’t do much while he desecrated everything that ever mentioned me.”

“That’s depressing,” you sighed, stretching your arms as you relaxed, looking ahead to the rows of boxes.

“What’s depressing,” he said, his tone suddenly changing, “is you sitting down here all night when all the fun is upstairs.”

“Oh not you too,” you groaned, not wanting to have to convince another person that you had an actual job to do.

“What? It’s not healthy, you know,” he said, laughing, knowing he was a terrible influence.

“I’m fully aware of that but it’s my job. Wouldn’t expect you to understand that, all you do is have fun,” you chuckled, digressing into a tired sigh. He hummed, quiet and low, relaxing in his position once more.

“In that case, if you really can’t be swayed, I’ll stay with you.”

You stammered, fully disagreeing. If he stayed you’d never get anything done, he was a huge distraction, him and his beautiful flowing robes and his stupid gorgeous face - no, you couldn’t do it, you would absolutely not stand for it.

However, before you could go off on a rant of why that was a terrible idea (while completely avoiding your actual lovey-dovey reason as to why it was a terrible idea), he saw the look in your eye, and his smile faded into a sad, open mouthed, glittering eyed expression that made him instantly look like he’d been crying.

Like a goddamn puppy.

“Fine,” you sighed, giving in without a word exchanged. “But don’t distract me!”

“Me? Never!” He laughed, standing up and wandering through the aisles, letting you have your silence as you worked. You didn’t say anything, but you appreciated the thought deeply.

Every now and then, over the next few hours that passed, you’d see him through the spaces between the boxes. His head would poke out, and sometimes he’d kneel down to where you were, giving you a funny face for you to soften and laugh at.

This boy is too kind for his own good, you thought to yourself, wondering if he was like this during his life in Egypt. As you sorted mindlessly through sheets of paper, your mind wandered, going through the two different scenarios.

If he was exactly the same then as he was now, you wondered how he survived. As a prince, he was supposed to be mature, a role model for his kingdom. He should’ve been manly and strong, neither of which were traits he’d shown thus far.

If he was not the same, you wondered when the change happened. What he was like back then. Was he cruel, antisemitic, and a succinct ruler? Or was he just as kind as he was now, just more mature, with the weight of his responsibilities drowning out his personality?

“You look lost,” he noticed, boxes pushed to the side as he poked his head through the other side of the open shelf. You laughed, pushing the boxes back together to force his head out. He whined, jogging his way around the long hall to make it to you.

“No need to be ashamed. I, too, get lost in sheets of paper,” he chuckled, sitting down behind you and looking over your shoulder. He was slightly taller than you, allowing him a vantage point.

“You know, you speak remarkably good English for a 4,000 year old Egyptian Pharaoh,” you said, using the end of your pencil to tap his nose.

“What can I say, it’s what everyone else speaks. I hardly ever speak Egyptian now except with my parents.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you said, growing slowly quieter. “Your version of the language is dead now.”

A clangor of Rex’s roar resounded from upstairs, a sound you now knew signified that everyone needed to return to their place.

“Just as I am soon about to be,” he said, grunting slightly as he stood. Without thought you stood with him, letting your pencil and paper fall to the ground clattering quietly. With a chuckle he looked you up and down, almost sarcastically wondering if you’d do anything else embarrassing. You just glared, the blushing heat in your cheeks obvious.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you mumbled, leading him out the door and up the stairs. He followed, and the two of you walked to his old room in the museum.

As you reached the threshold he stopped, turning to you.

“I must leave you now,” he said, his words dramatic but his tone sincere. His hands came up to hold yours, another sign of his truthfulness.

“Try and do what I said?” He asked of you.

“What was that again?”

“Have some fun. Don’t hole up in that basement.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Sure.”

He left you with a smile, never wanting people to see him as he wrapped himself back up in his tomb. You understood his wish, obeying his need for privacy.

Until tomorrow night, you thought to yourself.

[fallstreakfeathers]

Don’t Look Down, Chapter 2, Rating: T ~4100 words Warnings: none https://archiveofourown.org/works/23956846/chapters/60761470

If Kita thought the brightness of the moon was overbearing inside the extravagant building, it was nothing compared to being in its direct path. She squinted against the pale beams as she stepped out of the doorway after the white haired demon. His pace was fast, as if he was trying to lose her, and she had to take two or three steps for his every one. She could hear him grumbling lowly about something, but couldn’t be bothered to listen closer. In fact, she wished he’d just close his stupid, too-loud mouth. The soft calls of some kind of animal hidden in the treeline caught her attention and she slowed herself to peer through the ever looming darkness, not that it was overly difficult with the moon hanging in the sky like some kind of sentinel. The green leaves swayed lightly in the breeze. The wind sent small ripples through the field of grass. It was only then that she noticed the scent of living plantlife. A group of small creatures fluttered from the branches, startled by the couple trespassing below them. She blinked slowly. Birds? There was not a trace of sulfur, fire, or death on the air. She stepped over a group of small blue flowers she couldn’t identify. The spotted leaves were jagged, with some sort of liquid oozing from the stems. “Hey, human! What’re ya staring at? Ya never seen flowers before? Pick up the pace!”

Kita said nothing as she placed her footsteps a bit faster. She kept her head down, abandoning her plan to run as light from the lamps that lined the streets glowed bright against the wet pavement. “Can’t believe those jerks left me to babysit you alone.” There’s no way she’d get out of here without knowing where she was going. Did she really expect things to be that easy? Of course not, only an idiot would think that. I’m an idiot. She felt like a prisoner being escorted to her own execution, and the feeling was only made stronger as she caught the curious and hungry eyes of various demons on the streets. Those in the lights of the street appeared human, or mostly so, but a few hid in the shadows and their forms shifted and flittered as they stared. One of these feral creatures approached the group, prowling like some kind of cat, only to scamper away when Mammon growled a guttural, throaty sound. Kita cringed. The short display almost reminded her of those silly groups of kids in her school years who pretended to be dogs or sometimes horses. Of course, she was the local velociraptor in those days, and occasionally a Tyrannosaur. The only difference was the very real threat behind the noise bubbling from the demon’s chest. “You were full of piss n’ vinegar earlier, what’s with the silence?” She released a heavy breath as she continued to pretend he didn’t exist. Earlier she was terrified, now she was just exhausted. If she stayed quiet and kept her head down, if she didn’t make eye contact, then everything would be fine. He’d eventually leave her alone. That’s how it always was. She sneered at the demon that glanced at her ever-so-often and the not-so-quite grumbling that traveled back to her on the wind as they stopped in front of a swooping steel gate with a dry “we’re here.” Kita squinted at the towering building behind it. The mansion almost appeared to have multiple shacks stacked on top of it, along with castle-like spires. Beside it stood a tall, black tree with branches that reached towards the moon. The whole area looked like something out of an old vampire movie. So… demons really like over-the-top crap? Mammon placed his hands on the gate, pushing it open. It swung wide with a creak. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered, “of all the rotten, unfair luck.” She rolled her eyes while he continued to complain with his hands on his hips. “Why do I have to look after some stupid human? It’s insulting! And just so we’re clear, it’s not like I can’t say no to Lucifer, alright!?” Kita sighed, remembering once more that she not only had to survive the year in an entirely different world, but also was going to have to deal with 7 demon lords who, if they were consistent, were all over-dramatic assholes. What did she do to anger God enough that he’d allow this sort of misfortune? “I only agreed to babysit you because…” he babbled “... well. Um, you know...uh…” “I don’t care,” she whispered wearily.

“What?” the demon shouted, “oh! Now you’re really in for it you stupid… although I’m sorta surprised you’ve got the guts to talk to me like that. You should be scared.” What about her behavior implied that she wasn’t? Did she really come off as if she were delighted to be in his presence? “I mean, I’m a demon. Even a human would get that, right?”

She pushed past him onto the stone path that led to the doorsteps of the mansion What makes you any more dangerous than literally anything I could be killed by in my own world? “You’re seriously weird,” he shook his head as he pushed the door open, “whatever, come on then.” Kita glanced around the heavily decorated hallway as the door clicked shut behind her. The high walls were patterned with purple and silver paper. A long plush carpet led from the front entrance and under a wooden archway into another room. A cheery fireplace could be seen at the far end of the room, glinting off the polished wood floors and filling the area with a sweet, smoky scent. Two dragon-like gargoyles stood guard at the front of the hall, with a marble staircase winding behind them both, up into another hall. All in all, the two rooms alone looked like they cost more than she’d ever make in her lifetime. Kita felt even more out of place than she had on the Devildom streets. “This is the House of Lamentation,” Mammon said. He waved vaguely at the space around them, “it’s one of the dorms here at R.A.D.” Yes. It wasn’t like the prince hadn’t clarified that at least four times. “Well, not just one of the dorms. It’s the dorm reserved for student council members.” Kita simply nodded. The sooner he finished talking, the sooner she’d be taken to her room and then (hopefully) left alone. “The others take every opportunity to insult me,” he prattled, as he led her through the hall “callin’ me scum and money-grubber and shit like that… But I’m an officer on the student council too! The elite of the elite. Top of the social pyramid.” He turned to her. “In other words, I’m a big shot! A real big shot! Even regular big shots are impressed by what a big shot I am!” Big ego is more like it. “By the way, Diavolo is even more of a big shot. He’s so important he’s got his own castle.” “I figured he would...you all call him ‘prince’.” If I have to hear the words ‘big shot’ one more time, I’m finding a thesaurus and throwing it at his stupid face. “Right… anyway, the long and short of it is that us seven brothers live here together and-...hey, what's with that expression? If you’ve got somethin’ to say, you’d best do it now.” Kita blinked. Was she making weird looks? “Sorry,” she muttered, “you all call each other ‘brothers’ but you look nothing like each other.”

“That’s really what you’re wonderin’ about? We aren’t brothers in the human sense,” he shrugged, “it’s more like we share a title, we’ve fought together, live together, yadda yadda, ya get it?” “Sure.” “Seriously, you got a personality thing or somethin’?”

Does he ever shut up?

“Doesn’t matter, “ he continued, “I’m gonna give you a piece of advice, and you’d better listen up 'cause I won’t repeat myself.”

She spotted movement from the corner of her eye as the demon spoke, and she glanced to the staircase where another demon stalked down the marble steps. His eyes burned an angry yellow-orange that peeked out from under the light purple fringes of his hair. He was clearly taller than her. Of course he was. Were demons just naturally this tall? “If you ever find yourself in a situation where you’re about to be attacked by a demon, you need to either run or just die.” What? Kita gawked at him in disbelief. The yellow-eyed demon reached the bottom step, glaring as he continued to move behind Mammon. “Are you serious?!” “Yes.” Kita frowned and then snorted. “So just die, then?” “Actually, I vote for you to die, Mammon!”

“Ah! Levi!” the demon yelped, “didn’t see ya there. I...Uhh...L-Listen up here, human! This here is Leviathan, Avatar of Envy. He’s the third oldest of us brothers.” The demon grinned brightly as he spoke, “his name’s sorta hard to say, so you can just call him Levi!” “Uh...no thanks,” Kita deadpanned. Nicknames were reserved for friends. Nicknames meant something. They were special, and not to be given to people who didn’t want to be around her in the first place. She refused to call anyone who wasn’t at least a friend anything short of their name. Besides, ‘Leviathan’ really wasn’t that difficult to pronounce. “Suit yourself.” “Mammon, give me back my money,” Leviathan growled, “then go crawl in a hole and die!” Woah. That was...unnecessary. Kita’s eyebrows scrunched as he flung insults at the white haired demon. “I’ll get it to you, I already told ya. I just need more time,” Mammon shrugged. “More time?! You’ve been telling me you need ‘more time’ for the last two hundred years!” She nearly choked on her spit. Two hundred years? These people were at least two hundred years old? “Hey, no! It’s been two hundred and sixty,” Mammon corrected, “get it right.” This got a small, amused laugh out of her and she quickly covered her mouth as the two demons turned their attention to her. For creatures supposedly hundreds of years old, they sure acted like children. Leviathan shook his head as he grumbled. “Seriously, Mammon, you’re-” “I’m what?” he snapped, “scum? Is that what you’re gonna say?” “You’re a lowlife and a waste of space,” the Avatar of Envy finished with a snarl. Alright, now I just feel kinda bad for him. Kita winced. Nobody should have to deal with being spoken to like that, especially by their own family… brother-in-arms? Sharer of titles? Whatever. “I couldn’t pay you back anyway, I don’t have the money.” “So you’re saying you refuse to pay me back?” “You lookin’ for a fight? Is that it?!” Oh my God. I’m gonna have to listen to this for an entire year. Mammon suddenly turned to Kita again. “Hey, human. Ya know how I told you what to do when a demon attacks? You’re about to witness that for real so…” he paused for a moment, “time for you to die, ‘cause if it’s gonna be you or me, it ain’t gonna be me!” “Wait,” Leviathan said, “ I thought you said-” Mammon smirked at her, and almost as fast as she could blink, he disappeared up the stairs. “-that asshole! He ran off!” Leviathan shook his head in disappointment. “You get what happened, right? He used you as a sacrifice.” “Somehow, that does not surprise me,” Kita snorted. “I’ll admit that Mammon is one of the scummiest scumbags you’ll ever meet,” the demon said, “a total lowlife, but that was still pretty dumb of you for letting him use you like that, I mean this is exactly why humans are-” For the love of all that is holy...unholy...do they all talk this much? “Wait!” he exclaimed, “ you’re human! That gives me an idea.” Why did she feel like this was a bad thing? “Can it wait until tomorrow?” she asked gingerly. “Nope. You’re coming with me!” Kita yelped as his hand suddenly gripped her sleeve and he began dragging her up the stairs with him. “Let go,” she barked, pushing her heels into the floor in an attempt to force him to stop. “Quiet!” he hissed as he halted in front of a door. He glanced around nervously before tugging her inside and closing the door. She twisted around, preparing a few choice words regarding her treatment before stopping with her mouth open like a fish out of water. The room she’d been so unceremoniously dragged into was like something out of her wildest dreams. Light shined through what looked like it might be a pool in the ceiling, sending rippled reflections across the tiled floor. Luminescent jellyfish hung vertically, leading down to a porcelain tub with what appeared to be a body pillow laying in it. An enormous aquarium had been slotted into the wall. Coral and various plants poked out of the sandy bottom, and it seemed silly that the only occupant of a tank with such magnitude was a small goldfish.

That was to say nothing of the enormous amount of manga and various figurines placed around the room. In the corner sat what had to be the most computers she’d ever seen in a single house. It... It was pretty badass, she had to admit.

“This is your bedroom?” she asked incredulously. “Uh.. Yeah.” “It’s beautiful.” Leviathan nodded once. “You want to know why I looked around to see if anyone was looking before I closed the door?” “Not particularly but I can take a few guesses.” “Well why do you think I did it? Not that it isn’t totally obvious. Imagine what would happen if someone saw me invite you into my room!” he rambled, “a human who doesn’t even look like an otaku! A normie! Do you know what people would say?” Oh no, he’s one of those kinds. “I don’t honestly care, sorry.” “You should! It’d be insane!” Kita murmured a snide comment to herself as she wandered over to the tall bookshelf by the door. She peered curiously at the unfamiliar, often ridiculously long titles before a thick book with black leather and silver trim caught her attention. “What, human? What are you looking at?” Kita pointed at the book, making sure she didn’t touch it. “Oh, that's The Tale of the Seven Lords! Are you a fan of that too?” He sounded almost...excited? “Not at the moment. I don’t know that we even have it in the human world,” she apologized. “What’s it about?” She must’ve asked something right if the way the demon’s eyes lit up were any indication. “You don’t know TSL? And you call yourself a human?!” “Actually, I call myself ‘Kita’,” she snarked, “you lot seem to be the ones set on the ‘human’ bit.” “Listen, just the fact that you don’t know TSL alone is proof that you’ve been wasting your life!” “Do enlighten me on what I’ve missed,” she snorted. There was something about this one that made him slightly easier to talk to than the others she’d met so far- not that she could put a finger on what it was.

“The Tale of the Seven Lords, TSL, is a series of fantasy novels written by Cristopher Peugeot. It’s a heroic spanning 138 volumes, and the most widely read fantasy series in the world,” he began.

On, and on, and on some more the demon rambled about the book. Books. 138 of them? That was crazy. Do all demons talk this much? Honestly, that’d be true Hell, right there. Skip the burning and rending, just keep talking. Kita listened, not out of any particular interest so much as the excitement in the Avatars voice. She knew what it was like to try to talk to someone about something she liked, only to be ignored or shoved off. She wouldn’t be that person, even to a stranger who’d literally dragged her sorry ass up a flight of stairs. Besides, his energy was somewhat contagious, even if he’d been speaking for at least twenty minutes. “There’s that one really awesome moment where the two of them realize they both like and respect each other, and they high-five! I just love that part,” he jabbered, “I wish I could have a moment like that.” “I’m sure you will,” Kita said. “Wait, you’re still listening to me?” Leviathan gawked. Kita nodded. “Most people’s eyes would’ve glazed over by now…” he said, “uh...oh! Check it out,” he pointed to the aquarium. “See that goldfish there? His name’s Henry. I love TSL so much that I couldn’t help naming him after the main character. I can’t high-five a goldfish though.” “Well you can’t with that attitude,” Kita snickered.

Leviathan frowned, suddenly sullen. “You humans are so lucky,” he said, “you’ve got subscription services that let you watch any anime you want to, you can go to Akihabara whenever you want…” Aki-what? Ah, who cares. “Why do only you guys get to experience the good stuff? I mean humans’ whole concept of pleasure originally came from us demons, you know,” he whined,” so why can’t we take a little of that back now? I want to go to a Japanese maid cafe too, y’know? I want to cosplay as Henry, or go stand in the center of Akihabara, or maybe under that one building in Tokyo that’s shaped like upside-down triangles. Once I’m there, I want to perform Henry’s super powerful signature finishing move for all to see and say the incantation that goes with it!” Is he...Is he breathing? How is he saying all that in one breath?!

“Actually, you know what? I want to be Henry,” he finished.

“Screw normies,” Kita yawned, suddenly aware yet again that she’d been kept up far later than she thought was humane. Of course, these guys were demons. What was she expecting? “Yeah! Screw ‘em!”

The demon frowned again as he spoke. “Alright, enough. This is starting to depress me. I didn’t bring you here to tell you about TSL.” “I was wondering when that would be addressed,” Kita muttered quietly. “I don’t think there’s any harm in coming out and saying what you already know is true: Mammon is a complete, and utter scumbag.” “Got it.” Really, it didn't seem like demons had much of a vocabulary. Not that she had a great one either, but still. “It’s very important that you understand this, so I’ll say it one more time.” “No need, I assure you I understand perfectly. Just… get to the point,” she grumbled, “why am I in here?” “I lent that scumbag money and now I want it back, but being the scumbag that he is, he won’t do it.” “What do you expect me to do about it?” Kita asked, quickly losing patience. She was hungry, she was tired, she was stressed, and a hundred other things already. She wasn’t fond of the idea of spending another hour in the room. “You should probably know how Mammon and I first became enemies.” “I… No. Just get to the point, please,” she sighed. “Fine. As third born, I don’t have a chance to get my money back on my own,” he explained, “but if, say, a human made a pact with Mamon and bound him to their service…” he gave her a pointed look.

“No.” “What? Why not? He’d have to do whatever you told him!” “Not interested.”

“Is it the whole ‘selling your soul’ bit? That’s not always necessary, you know!” Leviathan argued, “it depends on what’s in the pact.” “Not. Interested.” “No, no, just listen, I’ll tell you how to negotiate with Mammon!” Oh, for the love of...

“It’d be useful for you to have him as your servant,” he assured, “despite how awful he is, he’s still very powerful! You’re probably worried being down here in the Devildom, so it’s not like it’s a bad deal for you. Don’t you agree?” “What makes you think I’d even be able to control him? I’m sure pacts aren’t as cut-and-dry as you’re trying to make them sound,” she disagreed. “You’ll do fine.” Sure I would, Kita snorted. She had the authoritative presence of a sea snail. If she couldn’t get other humans to listen to her, what hope did she have of commanding a demon? Much less a demon lord? She wasn’t sure she wanted that sort of power over another being anyway, no matter how obnoxious they were. “Listen,” Kita drawled as she rubbed her eyes, “I’ve had a very long, exhausting, somewhat upsetting day. If you could be so kind as to show me to wherever I’ll be holed up while I’m stuck here, I’ll give you an answer tomorrow when I’ve had time to think and maybe do a little research on what exactly a pact entails because there’s no way in Heaven or Hell that I’ll be doing anything like that until I know precisely how it all works.” Oh dear lord, was Leviathan’s rambling rubbing off on her? Did she take a breath?

“It’s only 3pm,” the demon stated.

“It’s dark.” “We don’t have a sunrise here,” Leviathan explained. What’s shining off the moon, then? Kita wanted to ask. 

She shook her head. It didn’t really matter. “Whatever. I’m still going to bed,” she said,” you can show me to my room or I'll just use the tub.” With a groan and something muttered about “normies”, Leviathan opened the door, motioning her to follow him down the hall. They stopped at the very last door, closest to the window that hung at the end of the corridor. “There’s your room,” Leviathan muttered before walking past her. He disappeared around the corner. Kita exhaled wearily, slowly opening the creaky door. Her shoulders went slack. By the head and foot of the bed stood two trees that stretched themselves against the roof of the room. Lichen hung off the gnarled bark. Some kind of viney plant that looked suspiciously like ivy creeped its way across the stone walls and behind the twirling, curled wooden bedframe. Colorful lanterns hung from the branches, providing light for the room. A smooth table had been placed just behind one of the trees and a group of intricate chairs sat underneath it. Beyond the table, a dresser, as ornate as everything else, held a variety of items on top. A brass skull lay next to a teapot. Hot tea does sound nice right about now. Maybe peppermint...or lavender. Beside the teapot, a group of various books had been stacked along with a small, empty picture frame. Next stood a cabinet that appeared to have been made from a coffin. More books lined one of the shelves, and the top shelf had a small red and gold container. Beside it stood a small horse figurine that reared angrily, and a potted plant rested next to it. In the very center of the room hung a twisted rust-colored chandelier. Open flamed candles burned off the twigs branching from the frame. Is that safe with all the wood here? Two decorated rugs crossed each other over the old and worn flooring. Aside from the color of the pillows and sheets, various shades of light pinks, the room was right up her alley. Kita ran a hand over the silky coverings on the bed, wanting nothing more than to fall face-first into the cloudlike softness of the pillows lined against the headboard. But that’s where they’d expect to find her. That’s where these strangers would expect to find her, defenseless, vulnerable as she rested. Kita mumbled to herself as she searched for somewhere else in the room to sleep. Under the table was a no-go. She wouldn’t fit under the bed, and between the mattress wouldn’t work either. She ruffled through the plant at the edge of the bed, frowning at the lack of space between its branches and the wall. It left a small, cramped crawl space that she might’ve been able to fit into if she bothered to break a few of the twigs. She’d keep it in mind. Kita glanced around the room anxiously. A large air vent protruded out near the top of the wall. There was no way she’d be able to get to that. Finally, her sight landed on the large tree by the headboard of the bed. She curled her hand into the bark, pulling to test its durability. When it held, she began hoisting herself up the ivy and lichen, grunting with the effort as she reached the first branches. She continued climbing into the leaves until they covered her completely, settling flat on a large limb and clutching the main body of the tree with an exhausted sigh. I hope this thing doesn’t have spiders or something.

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to take her.

[maple-writes]

So @asinglenote7 and I thought it would be fun to write something with a couple of our characters meeting each other so here we are! It was a lot of fun working through the scene together :D It was great learning a bit more about Sias too!

###

When I’d gone up the mountain it hadn’t been that long after eleven AM, but I must have lost track of time after finding the source of the reported disturbances just off one of the side trails in the forested park. Checking my phone after sending the spirit off, it was already getting close to four in the afternoon. I didn’t think I spent that long with her, but at least it was still light out.

           I yawned, hunching my shoulders as I rejoined the main trail the way I came. Overhead pines swayed and creaked, squirrels leaping from branch to branch as the air began it’s afternoon cooling. As far as exorcisms went, everything had gone smoothly. The young woman had been kidnapped almost two years ago now, her body dumped in a ravine far enough from prying eyes that no one had found it until now. Luckily she’d been ready to go, and only needed someone to hear her out, to listen to what happened to her back then. At some point I’d have to report the body’s location, and the identity of her killer, but that could wait until tomorrow when Ginger was back in.

           “Hello?”

           I stopped, snapping my head up from the ground. A man with a colorful shirt and a white cane stood in the middle of the trail. Dark lines snaked all across his skin in a pattern I couldn’t decipher, and even from where I stood energy flooded out from him. The air around him buzzed and crackled, crawling across my skin like I was nothing but a conduit between him and the ground.

           I swallowed, trying to shed the static feeling creeping down my back. “Hi?”

           He tilted his head in my direction. “I’m Sias. I’m kinda… lost. Can you help me find my friends?”

           There were more of them? Were they all like this? I stared for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. As strange as he was, at least he sounded honest. I smiled, hoping I hadn’t hesitated too long.

           “Oh, of course.” It was easy enough to get turned around on these trails after all. I squinted at the sea of tree trunks around us. “Where do you think they went?” I turned back to him, and quickly added, “I’m Asher, by the way.”

           “I uh, kinda left them. I got distracted by the feel of the trial under my foot. I think I came from that way?” He pointed down the fork in the trail. “I’m not sure if I should just go back to town though.”

           I peered down the branching trail. It wasn’t too challenging, but I’d only taken it once or twice. As far as I knew it went from this end of the park to the other, winding around cliff sides and creeks without looping back. It was anyone’s guess how far down the trail Sias’ friends might have gone.

           “Probably best to wait for them back at the trail head.” I turned back to Sias. “I was going down that way anyway, if you want I can walk you down.” If it turned out his friends really had gone all the way to the other side of the park I could probably give him a ride over there once we got to the parking lot.

           He nodded. “That would be nice. Thank you. Um, can I ask you a probably invasive question?”

           Oh? I stiffened, trying to read his expression to try and figure out what he meant, but curiosity quickly won out. “Sure?”

           “Your… Soul.” Sias laughed, almost to himself. “You should… Maybe go to a doctor or something. I’m… Well, I have a feeling you might want to get checked out for a hidden illness, or something.”

           I froze. “What?” I curled the tips of my fingers against the seam of my pants. No claws caught the threads, and there hadn’t been any horns in my shadow earlier, everything had gone back to normal a few minutes after sending the woman off. “How do you know that?”

           “I… I can see souls.” He nodded. “It’s… a tech thing? My eyes are more tech than they are biological now. I shouldn't be telling yo this, I just, you seem nice, I don’t want you to fall ill or something.”

            So he meant well, that was good to know. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret.” I paused. How much should I tell him? “I’m alright though.” If he trusted me enough to tell me something he shouldn’t, then I might as well return the gesture. He seemed trustworthy enough. “I only have half of it, my sister has the other, so I’m used to it. It’s not really something I spread around, but it’s probably because my father was a demon that it was able to happen at all.”

           “A… A literal demon? Alright. Okay.” Sias blinked, taking the information a lot easier than I’d expected, thankfully. “Um, well, I’m glad you’re okay. Should we… Maybe start walking?”

           “Right.” Probably best not to dwell on it too long in case he got scared about following a demon alone though the woods. I paused though as I passed by, glancing between him and the trail ahead. He couldn’t see where he was going, could he? “Are you alright to walk on your own? The trail isn’t too rough.”

           Sias smiled, tapping his cane against the ground. “I walked here, didn’t I?”

           “Right, of course.” I turned away, a hand going to massage at the back of my neck. Of course he’d had to have gotten here on his own. I probably wouldn’t have been very helpful anyway. “It’s this way then.”

           I led the way down the trail, glancing back half to check he was following and half to try and figure out what exactly he was. The trail widened out and I slowed to walk beside him. This close to his side the hairs on my arms stood on end, like sparks jumping from him through me as charged static whenever we drifted too close together. I furrowed my eyebrows as I stared down the length of the trail. The strength of it, the wild and barely harnessed energy… It wasn’t that different from when I first met Cirrus, was it? Come to think of it, the beach I’d found him on wasn’t too far away from here either.

           “So, this might sound strange.” I turned back to Sias with a deep breath. “Are you... Are you a dragon?”

           He blinked. “No? Um, why? Is something wrong? I’ve never met a dragon. Is it my tattoos?”

           “Oh, no.” Part of me wished I hadn’t said anything now, but it was too late to change my mind. “You’re well…” How was I supposed to explain? “There’s something, I can feel something from you. Its powerful, but I can’t figure it out.”

           “Well, I…” He sighed, one arm wrapped around himself. “I’m a storm elementalist, and the tattoos are laced with lodestone. I was meant to be a human weapon. So that’s why.”

           I blinked, taken aback for a heartbeat. “Really?” That would explain the crackle across my skin. “What are you doing here then?”

           “I… Escaped.” He nodded, filling his pause. “I’m safe here. They won’t find me. But I… I’m travelling, with my friends, we’re on our way to a larger city, somewhere where the people who did this don’t have influence.” Sias lowered his voice, quiet enough I wasn’t sure if he meant for me to hear. “You’ll be safe.”

           The static buzzing from him faltered a moment, and a weight settled deep in my chest. I looked down at the dirt under my feet as we walked, neither saying a word. He was on the run then. I couldn’t imagine what that might have been like.

           “That sounds difficult.” I spoke softly, not much louder than the sea breeze in the mossy branches arching over our heads. “I hope it all works out for you. Eventide is kind of out of the way, I would be surprised if anyone tracked you down here.” It was a detour from any major highway to end up here. Still… “You and your friends are welcome to stop by for dinner or the night, if you’re ever worried about staying somewhere too obvious.”

           Sias’ eyes widened. “I, I couldn’t ask you to do that. There’s… There’s six of us that’s too many!” He said. “But I’d really like that. An actual meal sounds good… We’ve been eating canned soup.”

           That would have been a lot of underwhelming soup. I tried to picture the dining room, counting the number of chairs on my fingers, then again when I remembered to count Cirrus and Striker. It would be tight, but not impossible.

           “We can make it work, though someone might have to use a stool.” I smiled. “It’s up to you, but I don’t mind.” Striker probably wouldn’t either, besides, he wasn’t going to be home until later. “I don’t think I can fit you all in my car, I can give you an address though.”

           He grinned back. “I’d really like that.”

           We stepped out of the trees onto the crunch of the gravel parking lot and a group of bickering people drew Sias’ attention.

           “That’s my friends! Here, we can walk over, just give me the address.” He led the way towards the group. “It was really nice to meet you, Asher. Thank you for… Well, everything.”

           I smiled. “No problem. I could write it down, or if you have a phone I can text.”

           He paused a moment before shouting towards the group. “Orion!”

           Immediately one of them raced across the parking lot. “Sias?” They grabbed his arms. “Don’t wander off again!”

           “I won’t. Can you put an address into your phone?” Sias nodded towards me. “This is Asher, he’s… Invited us for dinner.”

           “Alright.” Orion looked me up and down, as if sizing me up, as they pulled out a phone. “I’ll just type it in. I don’t want anyone having my phone number right now.”

           Fair enough. “Sure.” I gave them my address, waiting to make sure they had enough time to type it out. “Feel free to stop by whenever you’re ready. If I’m not home yet tell Cirrus I invited you over.” Striker would only be coming home later after his shift ended, but I was almost certain Cirrus hadn’t gone anywhere today.

           I turned towards my car with a wave. “See you later!”

           “Bye!” Sias chirped, him and Orion quickly returning to the rest of their friends.

           The rest greeted them as they rejoined, but I couldn’t hear what anyone said as I got into Striker’s car. I was probably going to have to stop at the store on the way home to pick up a few things. Ingredients, pop if it was on sale, and maybe some non-soup based travel foods. Hopefully if they did get to the house before I did Cirrus would be friendly, or at least somewhat polite.

[spacegaywritings]

“All Time Low” - Bad Therapists have a special Place in Hell

Summary: Patton describes depressive episodes and being unable to live life. The therapist tells him it is okay and normal to feel sad and to stop being a wussy when Patton tells him life does not feel worth living at the moment.

Disclaimer: writing based on subjective experiences based on therapy, mental health issues and (LOCAL) stigmas. You might have better/worse/different experiences with your struggles and how they were perceived and treated. Your culture or surroundings might have different bias. This is for venting and does not objectively apply to everyone’s experience of their mental illness or struggles.

Tags: u! emile, bad therapists, mental health issues, depression, invalidating mental illness, suicidal thoughts, feelings of hopelessness/worthlessness, self-deprecation, no perspective, bad memory, worried family, worried doctors, shitty Emile lmao, depression being seen as lazy, drastic weight loss, implied self harm, implied suicide contemplation/plan, mentions of sex, mentions of pretence, repression, bad coping mechanisms, someone revoke the dude’s license lmao.

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Note: If you miss any tags, have issues with links or any other concerns, please feel free to contact me. Anon is on and my DMs are open.♥

Links broken? Inform me, please!

Overview of this series on tumblr / ao3.

Story under the cut ( Wordcount: ~2,1k)

Dull eyes took in the white walls framing the therapist’s office. Patton took in the sight before him. It felt as boring as life, as uneventful and tasteless.

Looking at these walls made him feel as if his state had gotten much worse. If it had not been for his general practitioner to send him over and for his daily life to become so unbearable to him, he would have stayed at home and just not have gotten up to this appointment. His family was being persistent. He did not think it was that important. He just wanted to sit it out in his bed and not do anything for a little bit longer.

 “Hello there, Patton!”

 A friendly face rushed in. It was just as blank as the walls to him. He tried to smile back at the person who beamed so nicely at him. His lips barely moved. He could taste the bitter bile of guilt taking up the back of his throat.

 “Hello.”

 The therapist narrowed his eyes.

 “Oh, well, I have heard more cheery responses today. This is the first time we meet and you show up like this? A little disappointing~”

 The singsang voice made Patton want to crawl back under his bed’s quilt. It smelled bad but only if he left his bed for long enough to realise the smell again. He had become dull to it like to anything else in life.

Might as well live in a stinky bed and a stinky life.

It was not like these words, as cheery as they sounded, could lift him up. They only pushed him deeper into the darkest corners of his own feelings.

 “I- I’m sorry.”

 Patton’s words were slow and he curled deeper into his big big hoodie. He had parked his greasy hair underneath the actual hoodie part of his clothing and he had messily put on some jogging pants. The pant’s legs were lanky around his own legs, even his thighs. They looked like he had taken his older brother’s pants to be his own and he had yet to “grow into it”.

It was at least comfortable enough for his body to drown in the gown and hide his pathetic existence away.

 Not that this really mattered anyway.

 “Oh, there there. It will be okay. I just made a little joke! You really are not up for the smiley treatment today, huh? Well, I am your therapist - Doctor Emile Picani! The reception said you are all good to go and I checked in your insurance card, too. Now, would you be so free to tell me what brought you here today?”

 The adolescent shrugged his shoulders.

He was not worth the therapist’s time anyway. His thoughts were a soup made of dirt and grass and it revolved only about how he was stupid and selfish for going to the appointment made for him. He should have resisted harder and let someone in need have this session.

 Still, a little bit of fire in him pushed him onto the couch as if to lay down or at least crawl as far away from the sunlight and the big, observant eyes of this world.

 “I, uh.. my family thinks I need help”, he slowly explained. Emile was tempted to yawn. Even a turtle would be faster at walking than Patton was at speaking. This was going to be a long session, a stretching act like pulling at sweet, juicy gum.

“My doctor said I am, uh, losing weight. My family says I don’t have a perspective.”

 His hands found their way to a little piece of crumbled paper in the front pocket of his hoodie. He slowly pulled it out, adjusting his round glasses.

 “They wrote it down. Uh- I lost weight, don’t remember things and lose focus or something.. um, something about not doing anything, being really slow and uh.. they just said weird.”

 Patton shrugged, sniffling a bit.

He tried not to cry at the note but a part of him had become apathetic enough for him to not break into tears. The world was better off without him anyway. He just wanted to go back and sleep or pretend to sleep in his little room.

Not interact with people, not be with anyone and disappoint them with his terribly low performance in life. His existence was enough failure already.

 “Uhu.. they said you are being “weird”? Well, aren’t we all a bit weird sometimes! Are you dieting at the moment, perhaps increased the amount or intensity of exercise you are doing?”

 The younger male shook his head.

 “You did lose a lot of weight, though?”

 A nod, this time.

The therapist hummed in thought, scribbling onto his clipboard.

 “Now, how have you been feeling the last days?”

 The client pulled his thin shoulders up in a shrug, his face slightly distorting into a weird expression. His nose seemed to turn upwards.

 “Uh, I would say... not so .. great?”

 Another shrug fell from his shoulders as he sighed.

 “I just feel.. nothing, I guess. Or bad. Maybe.”

 More shrugs were countered by Emile’s rapid nods.

 “Alright. Have you been doing things these days? Did anything happen in your life? Maybe a breakup, maybe a loss in your family.”

 Patton hugged himself, gently blowing through his heavy hair strands. The grease kept it down. The strands fell into his sight and covered his eyes but moving his hands seemed out of the question. He tried to blow it off again but the strands fell right into his eyes.

Well, he deserved that, probably. Not that fixing his hair was worth the effort.

 His head shook itself.

 “No. Graduated.. um.. “, he trailed off, his voice fading into hums.

 Emile snapped his fingers to gain Patton’s attention.

 “You graduated? Congratulations! Me too.”

 Shoulders rose, barely as much as his chest rose with every breath he took.

 “I guess... You made it to a phD, though. I just hang in my room..”

 His lips twitched for a moment. Patton looked onto the floor. Always has been looking at the floor. He spared Picani the miserable sight of his whole face being exposed to him. Or even his soulless eyes. Oh no, he should spare anyone his own presence.

 “Well, you can work on that! So, you are feeling bad a lot, don’t do anything and this has been ever since your graduation?”

 This time, his shoulders as much as flexed as if to mimic the shrugs he did not have the energy to repeat once more.

 “I don’t really.. no.. I guess graduation was my peak.”

 The therapist nodded with the energy Patton lacked.

He hoped the other would gain something from this session. Maybe money. Yes, the insurance paid money for this.

 “Oh, this looks pretty direct. You have issues with sadness”, he revealed, his emphasis on the sad part reminding Patton of puppets. Oh, he wished he was a child again. Full of life and enjoying simple puppet shows on TV.

“But! Sadness can be helped! You only have to do things again!”

 Emile let his pen drop onto the clipboard and put his hands up, palms stretched out to face Patton.

 “Things..?”

 The therapist nodded, his tone alive, his body rising as he started pacing back and forth like a mad scientist discussing his ultimate invention. It was a great plan, a perfect plan! It had to be revealed because it was! Perfect! Perfect! Perfect! He was such a genius with his phD and his comfortable desk job!

 “Yes!!!”, the doctor practically screamed back at him, “you have to make plans and structure your life and go out there again! Stop being so lazy and boring! You need to go out and stop sulking in the corner like a kicked dog! Nobody wants that!”

 The dull blue eyes filled with water. They looked like wet buttons more than actual human orbs.

 “I... nobody wants me?”

 He felt like a child terribly reprimanded by their parents.

 “Nobody! I promise. You are being a real party pooper but you can just change and be nice again, so people will stop feeling bad for you. You are blowing all of your feelings waaaay out for proportion!”

 Emile’s hands moved to illustrate an invisible line that stretched the more his arms moved apart.

 “Everyone feels a little sad sometimes. It is normal! It is important to recognise your feelings and move on. See the sadness? Call it sadness and move on. Work through it. If you have time to be sad, you have time to literally be doing anything else. Mental illness is a matter of having too much time. It is a luxury and you cannot afford this. Your family has been waiting for you to take flight like a bird! But you are staying at home, neither working or studying nor looking into any other things to do. Do you even do chores?”

 Patton’s eyes were drowning in tears. His throat was tight and suffocating Patton in upcoming cries that were stuck enough for him to choke on his own sadness. His ears were covered by an overwhelming sound of static, muffling the sounds of his environment.

He was always on static.

This time, his heart seemed to stop and the tears burned pain into his face. The streaks they left were like whiplashes to his heart and he could feel himself barely able to breath.

 Emile smiled, nodding.

 “You are doing great, Patty! Really great! Feel the feelings, listen to your heart, listen to your pain and your thoughts - amplify it!”

 He squatted before the crying creature like a motivational coach in gyms. His yelling made Patton cry harder as Emile instructed him to listen to his thoughts dragging him through the mud and sing songs of suicide and happy pills.

 “Now stop.”

 Patton looked up at him, petrified.

The therapist put his fingers close to his thumb as if to squeeze Patton’s will to live between them. Slowly, painfully so, the fingers inched closer until they met.

By then, his tears were gone and dried. The shock and messy anticipation too intense for him to wail further in his miserable feelings and adverse state.

 “I want you to go out and put on some makeup if you want to, if you need to. Go and hook up with someone and feel like a person. Go out with friends, get drunk and take anything you can to make yourself happy. Go out there and make me happy, make yourself happy! You don’t need therapy to get over a little bit of heartbreak over graduating.”

 He approached Patton, turning to make space for him. His movements asked Patton to get up but he felt too wonky and wobbly to even twitch or blink. Breathing was too much.

The therapist helped him up. It was a blur. He was patted on the back and internally, he wanted to cry at how ironic it was that he was Patton and got pats on the back.

 Doctor Picani lead him to the door, spouting more nonsense about “going out more” being the cure to his issues.

 He has never felt worse.

Patton slowly retreated to his family’s car and curled up. When he was asked how it went, he did not know how to respond and bit his tongue.

 “You cried? I hope you got it all out, then. I am sure that helped a lot but I can be in contact with them if you need me to. Anyway, let’s go have some lunch.”

 It was the last things Patton heard.

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

End Note: This is not how a therapist should treat you. If someone treats you or your issues like that, please make sure you leave immediately and report this. A real therapist will validate your concerns and try to redirect your thoughts. If you have mental health issues, please reach out for help. Depression and sadness can have several different causes. If you are worried about similar issues as the character depicted in the story, please try to keep a journal or a mood tracker to help yourself. It makes sense to contact a GP and work with a therapist and even psychiatrist if needed.

Please take care of yourself and don’t anyone call you lazy for having mental health struggles. Do not listen to depression or anxiety talking you down.

[jawnjendes]

bonus: i am all of me | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: the goth gf series is now a finalist in the @shawnblrficawards which is???? so fucking wild??? ppl care abt my story??? so yeah, to celebrate HERE IS A THROWBACK by throwback i mean this takes place in the university days, before the shawn meets series

goth gf masterlist | vote for goth gf maybe? | shawn meets masterlist

For someone who deviates the norm on a regular basis, I hung out with a lot of normal people. Most of my “goth” friends were back home in California, and the only “goth” friend I had here in Toronto was Patrick Markowski. He preferred not to be around the normies I hung out with, so it was just me against the world sometimes.

It’s not like I meant for my friend group to end up like this. At first, my only normal friend was Stella. But Stella was friends with Camila, who was friends with Shawn, who had been dating me for the last three months. Shawn was quite popular around campus, and he was always seen talking to someone. People liked him, and he loved people. I preferred laying low and being invisible, even though that was hard to do.

I was always in black lace, fishnets, platforms, or all of the above. I was rarely caught without my hair in my face or my signature winged liner. Putting me next to a normal guy was odd, and that wasn’t hard to notice. If Shawn introduced me to a stranger, that stranger always had the mildly disapproving stare. Not to mention, one of his friends just viewed me as the target to playfully bully.

When it came from the group of normal people I hang around with, it’s fine. Shawn’s best friend, Brian, constantly took the piss out of me. It was our primary form of communication at this point. I wear black, I steal souls and drink virgin blood. I can joke about it too. I actually liked it sometimes. It was fun to joke about my plan to steal Shawn’s heart and sacrifice it to Satan. Just girly things, y’know?

There’s something I didn’t appreciate, though. And it didn’t come from Brian or Shawn or anyone, really. It came from my own pride and lack of brain cells. It took one random game of Odds On with Camila that brought me face to face with a monstrosity and the realization that I may take this goth thing more seriously than I thought.

Camila was grinning as she held up the pink, ruffly dress. “You’re gonna look so pretty.”

Behind her, Stella was giggling. She witnessed the Odds On and was there to make sure I kept my word.

The dress was short sleeved, and the ruffles made a very poofy skirt. The pink was a horrifying pastel that made my skin crawl. I didn’t mind colors as long as I’m wasn’t the one wearing them.

“What dumpster did you pull that out of?” I asked.

“Forever 21!” Camila happily replied, laying the dress down on my bed.

“And you literally just bought this today?”

“Yup! You can keep it after as a token of my friendship.” She stuck her tongue out. “So, from sun up to sun down tomorrow, you have to wear this. And I have to see you at least once so I know you didn't cheat! No changing either!”

I always kept my word, almost to a fault. That’s why I didn’t bring up the knot in my stomach, or the dread hanging on my shoulders to anyone. I didn’t mention how pushing someone out of their comfort zone could do more harm than good. It was just a silly little bet. It was just clothing. I shouldn’t have been so worried about it.

That didn’t exactly stop me from telling Shawn about it over FaceTime. I kept my frustrations on a low simmer, knowing that Camila was one of my boyfriend’s friends.

“So don’t do it,” Shawn told me. “It’s a meaningless bet, right?”

“But I made a promise, and Camila already spent money at Forever fucking 21!”

“Mm, you do hate that store.”

“So much… Fuck, I’m actually dreading tomrrow.”

“Aw, babe…” He looked at me for a moment. “What if you fake sick? It’ll be believable since you get sick a lot.”

I hummed. “I’d have to wear it the next day. The point is for me to look stupid and out of character in public.”

“What if you accidentally damage the dress?”

“She’ll know I did it on purpose, and then I’d end up owing her…” I reached for the flimsy fabric on the floor and found the tag. “Thirty-five dollars?!”

Shawn didn’t say anything for a second. “Well… at least you look cute in pink!”

That made me groan in annoyance. No one seemed to get it. “It doesn’t matter how cute I look! It’s not my color! I’m gonna look so out of it and, and... “ I sighed and threw the dress back on the floor.

~

A deep pit formed in my stomach overnight. I wished it was enough to keep me bedridden, but the dress was going to be worn no matter what. I got ready for my morning classes as I normally did. Intense liner, black lipstick, kept my hair down. Put the dress on and paired it with my combat boots. Once I looked as least uncomfortable as could be, Stella came knocking on the door.

“Let me see, let me see!”

I couldn’t even fake a smile as I opened the door. Actually, I scowled at my roommate, who had her phone out. The flash went off, and I immediately used my bedroom door to shield myself.

“No pictures!” I snapped.

“Oh come on! Camila has to see that you followed through!” Stella replied. When I ignored her, she sighed. “Okay, my phone is in my pocket! And we’ll see Camila later today, anyway!”

I poked my head out the door, making sure my roommate kept her word. Still, nothing could really make this better. Well, apart from getting rid of the stupid dress.

"Let's get today overwith," I mumbled, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

Thankfully, Camila forgot to get a matching coat for today's look, so I found refuge in my leather jacket. That made going to classes a little easier, but I still felt out of place and just… not good. No one in my classes cared about how I looked, and that was fine. The permanent scowl on my face kept the guys in gaming club from saying anything at all too. My problem wasn't the fear of being singled out and made fun of. That happened when I dressed normally, I was immune to that.

Trust me, I was very aware of how dramatic I looked all the time. I knew just how odd I looked with my group of normal friends and my normal boyfriend. That's just how I am, and that's probably what bugged me. I was blending in too much, and it was so far from me that I wanted to jump out of my own skin.

Every part of me wanted to just fuck off to my dorm after my psychology class, but I had to remember my promise to Camila. She had to see for herself that I followed through. She sent a text asking to meet her at one of the picnic tables on the courtyard, and I knew damn well it wasn't going to be just her.

The distaste on my face was amusing to Camila, Stella, Brian, and Connor as I approached the table. I had my arms folded as their faces lit up in shock.

"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?" Camila giggled. "I can't believe you did it!"

I only chewed the inside of my cheek. Then, I turned to Brian, who was beside himself with silence. It's better than laughing in my face, I suppose.

"Go ahead, lay it on me," I told him.

"I would," he replied, "but Shawn…"

"Huh?"

The other three at the table were nodding in agreement. Camila pointed behind me, so I looked.

My jaw dropped.

There he was, six foot something in the exact same pink, ruffled dress as me. The top half of the dress was tight over his broad chest, it probably didn't zip all the way. The skirt was very short, showing a lot of Shawn's thighs. He bounded over to the table like nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Hey guys," he greeted, slinging his arm around me.

I was still caught with my mouth open at the sight of him.

"Oh my god," Camila said, floored.

"Well, don't we look pretty?" Brian said with a laugh.

"I'm always pretty, thanks," Shawn replied, dramatically running his fingers through his hair.

I was still silent. I didn't even know where to begin: The fact that the top half of the dress was one wrong move away from ripping? The fact that Shawn was on the receiving end of Brian's roasting? The fact that Shawn heard my mindless venting and took matters into his own hands? Or the fact that he did this shit instead of simply bringing me a bigger jacket? There was just too much to unpack here.

That, and a new appreciation for this guy I was dating. My shocked expression had morphed into a soft grin the longer I watched him casually talk with his friends.

It was a thoughtful(?) gesture, but it didn't fix anything.

~

I followed Shawn home like a lost puppy at the end of the school day. Apart from teasing thigh touches, neither of us had properly talked about our matching attire. Shawn talked about everything no matter what, so this was a little strange.

It was strange because I wanted to talk about it.

"So," I began when we were in his car, although I quickly realized I didn't know how to go about this. "Um… what the fuck?"

Shawn glanced at her once as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Huh?”

I gestured to the outfit, an expectant look on my face.

“Oh, that,” he said. “I figured you wanted the attention off of you.”

“So you got the same dress?”

“I got the same dress.”

There was a pause as I looked at him, a half smile on my face. My brain was still having trouble processing the fact that he did this… for me. Or, at all.

“Well…” I trailed off, pushing away the cheesy words threatening to spill out. “...that was pretty cool. Thanks.”

Shawn reached across the center console and took my hand. “You sounded pretty upset on FaceTime. I just wanted to make it a little easier for you.”

“It’s no big deal.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but decided against it.

“What?” I asked. You can’t just do that and expect me not to question it.

Apparently, that was all Shawn needed for him to spill. “You made it seem like it was the end of the world. You kept saying that you had to follow through, but you weren’t happy about it at all. Even for a meaningless bet. I’m just wondering why.

“Uh…”

“You don’t have to tell me, of course,” he quickly added. “Whatever you want. I can listen, or we can pretend like this day never happened.”

If he had been looking at me and not the road, then this would have been an easy choice. Forget everything and burn the dress. But there was no eye contact in this vehicle. The words that had piled up in my throat since the bet finally started to spill out.

"Not to be all, 'it's not a phase mom,'" I began, "but the chokers, the dark makeup, and the skulls? It's all I am. It's apart of me. I was in black onesies as a baby. That whole subculture is my sense of belonging. The dark, creepy shit the mainstream world hates is my happy place. And it was taken away from me today.”

“So why didn’t you explain that to Camila? She would have understood.”

“I didn’t say anything because I would have gotten upset. Or worse, I would have cried.” I sighed. “Besides, it’s just clothing. It’s all vanity. It’s stupid for someone to throw a fit over things like that.”

I kept my eyes out the window. Shawn gently squeezed my hand to get me to turn back to him.

“It’s not stupid,” he told me. “You said it’s where you belong, and there’s nothing stupid about that. If how you express yourself is important to you, then no one can tell you otherwise.”

Oof, there’s that sting in my throat. I placed my free hand on top of his. “No offense to your friend, but if she wasn’t so taken with my friend, I would have clocked her for suggesting this in the first place.”

Shawn chuckled, then paused. “Wait. Taken with? Camila is taken with Stella?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. They seem close, I just didn’t wanna start anything with Camila, for Stella's sake."

"Gotcha. So…" Shawn's tone indicated that the subject was changing. "You gonna let me rip that dress off of you when we get to my place?"

"Mm… yeah."

_______

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