#I promise I usually write them around at least 800 words long

[justpassingbii]

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 501

Fandom: One Piece

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Trafalgar D. Water Law/Reader

Characters: Trafalgar D. Water Law, Reader

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ear Piercings, Swearing

Summary:

(Y/N) is getting her ear pierced at home and Law is helping her. He kisses her to try to distract her. Keyword: try

[beomiracles]

i was wondering if you could revisit thin walls? For the 500 mash! I’ve been dying to know what else happens between them for a while now😂. Like are there any feelings involved or is it just sex?? I gotta know😭

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... it's the way I KNEW this one was bound to come (not complaining I missed thin walls heh) hm hopefully this answers at least a few of your questions Ϟ(๑⚈ ․̫ ⚈๑)⋆

I advise any new readers to read the mini series first (even if there is room for improvement when it comes to my writing!)

cw kind of subby!gyu, very brief pussy eating (it's hard to fit much in 800 words >.<)

Beomgyu did in fact keep his end of the promise as he returned your panties that very same evening, he also took the liberty to invite himself in, comfortably flopping down on your couch with a smirk stretched wide across his lips. — What had started as spiteful banter between the two of you soon turned into a much more intimate relationship, but neither of you seemed to mind. 

A couple of weeks had passed since your first night together. Your Monday evening was drawing to an end as you stood by the sink in your small bathroom, brushing your teeth as you scrolled through your phone. Upon rinsing your toothbrush and wiping your lips with the back of your hand, a very familiar noise fills your quiet apartment. The loud thumping of a bass pounding against your thin walls, and you groan. He always did this. 

With a scowl plastered on your face, you dart for your front door as you rip it open. This time around you weren't going to let him off the hook so easily, and your fists pound against your obnoxious neighbour's door. Usually it would take him a good minute to hear your notorious knocks but today the door swings open almost immediately, revealing Beomgyu in nothing but his grey sweats. 

You don’t let your eyes linger on the familiar sight as you immediately go off on him. “What the fuck do you honestly think you’re doing?” You yell out, loud enough for the whole building to hear. But Beomgyu doesn’t reply as he reaches a hand out to immediately pull you inside, kicking the door closed as he pushes you up against it. 

“Fucking hell, you’re so sexy when you’re angry”, he groans as his lips latch onto your neck. Your mouth falls open in surprise as you blink a couple of times. “Beomgyu what the fuck!” You practically seethe as your hands push against his chest. — “Fuck say my name like that again”, he grunts as he grinds his hips against yours, his hard cock straining against his sweats, and you slowly piece together the situation before you. 

A harsh tug to his hair snaps his head from your neck as he looks at you dumbfoundedly. “That’s why you played your wack ass music, to get me here?” You scoff as he eagerly nods, lips chasing after your own in a feverish kiss. You let his mouth linger against yours for perhaps a moment too long before finally pushing him off. “You son of a bitch”, you scowl, feeling the way his cock practically jumps in his briefs at your harsh tone. 

Within seconds he’s dropped to the floor as he eagerly hikes your leg over his shoulder. “I have work tomorrow”, you begin as your hands push against his shoulders. “So?” He drawls as two of his fingers push your panties to the side, his tongue eagerly licking a stripe along your cunt, making you let out a small gasp. 

“So…we can’t– oh fucking hell”, you mutter as you push his head further between your legs, pulling a small whine from him as he eagerly laps at your cunt. His hands dig into your bare thighs as he buries his face further against you, his nose brushing your clit in such a delicious way that you almost forgot how angry you were with him. 

“Move in with me”, he suddenly moans against your folds and you freeze, unsure if you’d even heard him right. His fingers quickly replace his mouth as Beomgyu looks up from between your legs, his chin coated in a shiny layer as he licks his lips. “What..?” You stammer as you blink down at him. 

A wide smirk draws across his features as his ever mischievous eyes gleam up at you. “Move in with me”, he repeats and you bite your lip as you consider the idea. “Why? Don’t you think we live close enough already?” You ask and he shakes his head. — “Maybe”, you huff as you push his face back between your legs, making him moan against you as his tongue darts out once more. 

“Maybe if you’re good today.”

[winchesterandpie]

Good afternoon, aviators!

I realize it’s been a hot second since I posted a fic but I was absolutely running on fumes at the end of my first semester of grad school and writing just wasn’t happening. That said, I have a couple of things sitting around that I’m planning to get out in the next couple of weeks:

Rooster x reader angst (1.5K words, can be read as a follow up to even if it’s a lie)

Hangman x reader winter fluff (800 words, stand-alone)

They’re already written and proofread, I just need to format them and add summaries and whatnot, so these will for sure be coming out relatively soon.

I’m not putting either of them out today because I have a department holiday party and I’m not quite sure how long I have to stay for to be polite, but I’d probably get home too late to format a fic post today. My current plan is to put the angst out tomorrow and then the Jake fic next week. I know angst isn’t usually my thing, but I saw this hallmark movie (The Lost Valentine) and then my sister said something that sparked the idea and it kinda spiraled from there.

That said, I’m going into my next semester of grad school, and while I would really love to write more, I just don’t know that I have the time and energy to write fic consistently. Hopefully I’ll have at least some time and ideas.

While I know I don’t have tons of readers whose hopes would be raised and disappointed if I promise more than I can give, I still want to be a little realistic and acknowledge that I may not be able to write fanfics consistently. Even in the best of times, I’m a somewhat inconsistent, slow writer, and during grad school is not the best of times for creative writing. I’ll still be here writing things occasionally—and maybe this will give me time to actually read fanfics by other awesome writers—so I promise I’m not disappearing entirely.

Thank you to everyone who has read my fics, and especially those of you who have commented and reblogged! I need to be better about responding to comments because your lovely words amaze me every time I get them. You are a large part of why I keep writing, especially when I feel bad about doing so sporadically. I adore seeing the usernames I’ve become familiar with pop up in my notifications! Thank you for your patience with my pace. You are all amazing and I’m lucky to have as many kind readers as I have!! I love you all! ❤️❤️

[honeypiehotchner]

Version of You (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

Call 1-800-799-7233 if you think you are in danger/a victim of domestic violence, or visit this website for resources, live chat, and more (for the USA). This is a link to the wikipedia page that has international resources. 

(I wanted to put that first because this fic deals with an abusive relationship and some scenes show the abuse. If you relate to any this, please seek help via the resources above. I want desperately to say my DMs are open, but for my own mental wellbeing, I have to let you know that the resources that I give above are about all I can do to help. You’re welcome to DM me if needed, but please know that it might take me a minute to reply, and I still will point you in the direction of resources that can better help you. I love and support and am with every single one of you, but I can only do so much through a screen xx.)

This is 100% a comfort fic, but I am safe and okay, I promise 💛 (Truthfully, this was really therapeutic to write.)

Small note: mental and verbal abuse is depicted here, not physical (though it does come close), but I wanted to remind you that just because abuse isn’t physical doesn’t mean it’s not harmful or real. Mental and verbal abuse is still abuse.

Summary: Hotch helps you find the courage within you to end your abusive relationship for good.

Warnings: depiction of an abusive relationship, verbal/mental abuse, violence (domestic and otherwise), angst, happy ending

Hotch Masterlist

Aaron is stunned and disappointed to find you’re still at your desk when he walks out of his office at the grand hour of 8 p.m.

You don’t even hear his office door open or close, but you do hear his footsteps on the stairs. By the time he reaches your desk to say goodnight, you’re already attempting to cover up any traces of emotion on your cheeks.

But Aaron is a profiler. On top of that, though, he’s one of your best friends. He’s known you for six years now, and given how much time the BAU members spend together on cases, he’d argue he knows every single person here better than they know themselves.

You’d agree. You hardly know who you are anymore. But somehow, Aaron knows. Aaron can see.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, already setting his bag down, already pulling a chair over, already sitting next to you.

You’re ready to tell him it’s nothing, to tell him to get home to Jack, that it isn’t important — but it is.

You’ve been with your current partner for almost eight years. Anyone would hear that and ask if marriage is on the horizon, or children, or something of the sort. But not Aaron. Because Aaron can see the pain in your eyes.

Truthfully, he’s seen that pain in your eyes for the past two years. Maybe more.

But recently, it’s gotten worse. A lot worse.

You’re on a “break” with your partner. Whatever a “break” even means, because you still receive phone calls and texts from them all day. You send the calls to voicemail unless you absolutely aren’t doing anything, and the texts you reply to with one word.

Going home is fine because your partner is gone — for now. Work called them away, so you’re home alone for at least another three days, but you expect they’ll want you to pick them up from the airport.

You’ve never longed for a case the way you’re longing for one right now.

This “break” has been easiest because your partner has been gone. You know if they were here, it wouldn’t have been a break at all.

“It’s made me realize that I...I want a break. A real break.”

“You want to break up,” Aaron says it for you, knowing you’re too afraid.

Your hesitant nod confirms this for him. “I do. I think I really do.”

Aaron has known the relationship hasn’t been the healthiest. You don’t open up about your personal life that much at work — you never have — but it has always been telling that you never go out for drinks with the team. And when you did, you’d have to answer texts every ten minutes. Your partner never accepted an invite to join the team for drinks or dinner, but would often get angry at you for being out, as if you hadn’t tried to invite them.

Raised voices, broken glass. Not a single hand was ever laid on you. No, instead, it was a wine glass your mom gifted to you when you graduated college when your partner was angry that you had gone out for drinks with the team after a difficult case. A coffee mug you gifted your partner for their birthday faced the brunt of their anger when you didn’t reply to a text message fast enough — because you were parking your car in the garage. Plates, picture frames. A coffee table once, three years ago. It had been a house warming present.

But they’ve never hurt me, you always argue — only with yourself. No one knows the truth, that you clean up after their outbursts, that you’re grateful to have some knowledge of first aid so you can tend to your cuts from the broken glass, or so that you could stitch up your partner’s hand with ease, because hospitals are expensive and the excuses you’d have to fabricate even more so.

They always apologize. Which is true. Apologies are frequent in your house. Sometimes verbal, sometimes in the form of flowers either on your desk at the BAU (that only Hotch seems to notice with a sad smile) or left on the counter at home. Sometimes, rarely, a fancy dinner and some gift, usually a necklace.

“If you need any help at all,” Aaron says, looking you in your eyes, carefully, intently. “I’m here. For anything.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. Your stomach rumbles loudly in the silence, making you chuckle awkwardly.

“Hungry?” He jokes, but is half serious. “I was planning to get something on the way home, if you’d like to join.”

You think it over for a moment. Your mind immediately jumps to say no because you think your partner is home...but they aren’t.

“Sure,” you say. “Why not. What’s on the menu?”

You gather your things and Hotch waits patiently, rattling off some ideas for food to eat until one grabs your attention.

Your phone buzzes with a text. Where are you?

Aaron notices your change in posture with a sigh. “Is that them?”

You nod slowly. “Asking where I am.” You quickly type back, Still at the BAU.

The reply is almost immediate, as always. Just checking. Love you.

Relief washes over you as you type back, Love you too.

Aaron doesn’t like what he sees. The panic that surges through you just from a text message, making you stand up straight, hold your breath, clench your jaw. Then the relief that relinquishes you when a reply comes and it isn’t negative for once. The sudden changes, the way your emotions are yanked back and forth. He hates it.

But he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he says, “Ready?” And waits for you to smile.

+++

Hotch really doesn’t mean for dinner with you to turn into somewhat of a routine. But it does.

It’s brought more smiles to your face than Hotch thinks he has ever seen in the past six years. And for that, he doesn’t regret the dinners.

Neither do you, until the worst thing that could possibly happen ends up happening one night, three weeks since the first dinner.

Your partner is going out with friends, so you think you’re in the clear to get dinner with Aaron. And when your partner asks where you are again, you say you’re still at the BAU. You were, but you and Aaron were in the elevator to leave when you sent that message.

The two of you grab dinner at one of your favorite spots, at a table outside because the weather is perfect, the sky is clear, and stars are beginning to show. It’s magical. Until it’s a nightmare.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice sends shivers down your spine. They’re supposed to be out with friends.

Aaron automatically stands, shoulders squared and face set. He’s wearing his gun, and you are, too, but you’d never use it on your partner. You can’t say the same about Hotch, though, and that terrifies you.

“Babe,” you say with a smile, and Hotch tenses, hearing the pet name fall so easily form your lips. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going out with your friends?”

Your partner crosses their arms over their chest. “And I thought you were still at work.”

“We are,” Hotch speaks up, startling you. “We’re discussing a case.”

Your partner looks around, raising their eyebrows. “I don’t see any papers.”

“Because we went digital five years ago,” Hotch replies coolly. “But aside from that, a federal investigation is none of your business.”

You swallow thickly, waiting for your partner’s reply.

But to your surprise, they only nod. “I understand, sir. I was only checking.”

Hotch holds back a scoff, but instead returns the nod. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Your partner holds their hands up in surrender. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you at home,” you say quickly. “Love you.”

“See you at home,” they reply, making you frown as they turn and walk away.

When you look back at Hotch, you nearly scream. It takes everything in you not to make the hugest scene right there, outside this nice restaurant, underneath these stars.

Your phone buzzes. One hour. Do not be late.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you say quietly. “Just. Don’t, Hotch.”

+++

The next day, you knock on Hotch’s office door, twenty dollar bill in hand to pay him back for your dinner last night. You left in a hurry and didn’t get to pay. Thankfully, at least, arriving home with forty minutes to spare saved you from an even worse reaction from your partner.

“For dinner last night,” you mumble, sliding the twenty across Hotch’s desk. “Thank you.”

As you turn on your heel to leave, Hotch calls out to you. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Aaron says, making you turn back around. “I hope you’re...alright.”

You’re so very far from being “alright” that you almost laugh. Instead, you shrug. “It’s been worse.”

“Did they hit you?”

You’re too shocked to move. “What? No! Why the hell would you even say that?”

“Because I’ve been worried about you.”

“They have never laid a hand on me,” you snap. “Ever.”

“But they’ve come close,” Aaron says gently. “You know they have.”

You only scoff. You feel hurt. Insulted, even, that he would assume something like that. Your relationship with your partner is rocky, of course, but never physical abuse rocky. Never that bad.

But has it come close?

Sure, maybe you’ve felt the wind off a beer bottle when it grazed by your head on its way to the wall. Maybe you have had to duck to avoid getting glass to the face. Maybe.

Maybe they have come close. Closer than you want to admit.

But they’ve also loved you. Held you while you cried. Rewarded you after you cleaned up the broken glass. Left you flowers and jewelry and love notes.

They love you. Don’t they?

“It’s fine,” you whisper, blinking back the stubborn tears that have jumped to the front of your eyes. “They love me.”

“Love isn’t violent,” Aaron replies gently. “Love shouldn’t make you as terrified as I saw you when you left last night.”

“I know,” you choke out. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Hotch is rounding his desk and gathering you in his arms before the first tear slips down your cheeks. He holds you while you cry, letting you get it all out.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispers, resting his chin on top of your head. “Don’t worry.”

+++

It all comes to a head a few nights later when your partner springs a question on you. The question.

There, standing in the bathroom, you’re too stunned to speak.

“What d’you say, baby? Let’s get married, you and me.”

You don’t reply. You toss the makeup wipe in your trash can, flick the light in the bathroom off, and walk out into the bedroom.

“Baby?” They ask.

You’re facing the dresser, halfway to setting out a pair of pants for work tomorrow. “I...I can’t.”

“What?” Their reply is immediate and angry. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t,” you repeat, refusing to change your answer. “No.”

By the time you turn around, they’re standing up from the bed, arms crossed over their chest. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said no,” you say firmly. “I’m not marrying you.”

“And why not?”

“I—”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“What?”

“Your boss? Are you fuckin’ him?”

“No!”

“Then why won’t you marry me?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

You’ve never raised your voice back at your partner. They’ve always been the one to raise their voice, and you stayed silent, tried to talk them down, be the quiet voice of reason.

But not anymore. You’ve had enough.

“You don’t want to?” They scream. “It’s been eight years and now you don’t want to. You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” you say through gritted teeth. “But I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Baby…” They sigh, stepping closer, lowering their arms. “Why not?”

“Because,” you reply slowly, backing up. “Just because.”

“That’s not a good enough reason and you know it.”

“It’s good enough for me,” you say. You step to the side and keep backing out into the hallway, getting ready to run if need be.

“Where are you going?” They all but growl. “What’s wrong with you?”

You’re scaring me, you want to scream, but you don’t. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? Well I’m for damn sure not fine, I’m heartbroken,” they seethe. You see the tell-tale signs that they’re about to get angry — angry enough to start throwing things. You realize in a moment of horror that a paperweight is within their reach.

And they reach for it.

“Don’t,” you murmur, freezing when their fingers wrap around the glass. “Put it down.”

“Why?” They ask, calm as ever. “Don’t you want to see what you’ve just done to my heart?”

You shake your head slowly. “No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, no!” Your reflexes have gotten better since being at the FBI, and you duck right in time. The paperweight crashes against the wall behind you, shattering, denting the wall, and covering the couch in fine pieces of broken glass.

“See what you’ve done!” Your partner screams. “This could’ve been easy! You could’ve said yes!”

You spot your car keys on the counter next to you, and when they turn their back to you to grip at their hair, you slide the keys off and into your pocket.

I have to get out of here. It’s a thought that you never have. Normally by now you’d be vacuuming up the glass on the couch, apologizing every five seconds, pouring them a glass of whiskey or a beer or something. But not now. Not anymore.

You’re a few steps from the door when your partner notices. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Nowhere,” you freeze. “Go take a shower. Cool off. I’ll clean up this mess and then we can talk about this again, okay?”

They almost don’t accept your offer, but after a second, they nod. “There better be a beer waiting on me when I get out.”

“Of course,” you smile.

Your smile makes them suspicious, but they turn and head into the bedroom without another word.

Shaking, you turn to the closet to grab the vacuum, turning it on and beginning to suck up the glass off the couch.

But when you hear the shower curtain pull closed, you escape, leaving the vacuum running.

+++

It’s pouring down rain, you aren’t wearing any shoes, and you’re knocking on your boss’s front door. Can your life get any more pathetic?

When Aaron opens the door, he’s practically hauling you inside and out of the rain.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks, already leading you down the hall toward the bathroom. “You’re shivering, we need to get you out of these clothes — you aren’t wearing shoes, fuck, Y/N, what happened?”

“They asked me to marry them,” you choke out. You aren’t even crying. You haven’t cried yet at all. “I said no. They almost hit me.”

Aaron feels a dangerous surge of anger course through his body. “Did they hit you?”

You shake your head, and it turns into a full-body shiver.

“Okay,” Aaron says, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “Okay, let me get some clothes for you. Do you want to take a shower?”

You shake your head again.

“Okay, that’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

You sit, shivering, on your boss’s toilet for a few minutes before he returns with clothes. A t-shirt and pair of sweatpants of his. Old ones, he says, they don’t fit him anymore. You smile slightly when you realize the shirt is from his college, the sweatpants from his law school. No wonder they don’t fit him anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you say. “I—I think I left my phone there.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. Just get changed and get warm. Do you want some tea? Anything?”

“Just some water, please,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiles.

After he leaves, you change out of your wet clothes and into his shirt and sweatpants. You carefully hang your wet shirt and shorts over the edge of the bathtub, hoping that’s okay.

You venture out of the bathroom and follow the noise into the kitchen where you find Aaron putting up dishes.

“Hey,” he murmurs, straightening up. “Do you want ice with your water?”

“Um, sure.”

The sound of ice clinking into the glass makes you flinch, and you’re grateful Aaron’s back is turned away from you.

“There you go,” he hands you the glass.

“Thank you.”

You sip it quietly while he goes back to putting up the rest of the clean dishes in the dishwasher. Once he finishes, your heart is still racing, now with guilt from coming here unannounced. What if he was on a date? What if Jack was here?

“The guest room is all yours,” Aaron says softly. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You nod slowly. “I don’t know what to do.” You pause, rubbing your thumb over the condensation on the glass. “But I told them I’m not marrying them. But I...I didn’t tell them I was leaving. Or where I was going.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not. They’re gonna be mad. I can’t— Oh my god, I can’t go back. Not alone, they’ll—”

“Hey,” Aaron shushes you, walking around the counter to get to you. “Don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure it out. I’ll go with you. You won’t be alone.”

“Thank you.”

+++

The next morning, you and Aaron head into the office early so you have time to grab your go-bag and change into your work clothes that you left in there.

Thank God for having a job like this where it’s normal to have a few changes of clothes, a toothbrush, deodorant, and anything else you need in a duffle bag under your desk.

You and Aaron are the first people in the BAU, so you’re able to grab your bag and head to the bathroom to change without any questions. Once you return, you stuff the bag back under your desk and sit down, ready to bury yourself in reports for the day.

But before you can, Hotch calls you into his office.

“What’s up?” You ask when you step into the doorway.

“We didn’t eat breakfast,” he says, and that’s when you notice the two coffees and muffins sitting on his desk.

“Oh,” you chuckle. “I completely forgot.”

“Me too,” he smiles. “Here, sit.”

The two of you eat the breakfast in silence, but somehow you don’t mind it. You’re not in much of a talking mood, anyway.

Rossi arrives next and stops by Hotch’s office, not at all surprised to find the two of you eating together, though he does join with his coffee a few minutes later. The silence vanishes with Rossi, leaving laughter in its wake as he tells old stories about Hotch.

When the rest of the team arrives, they follow the noise to Hotch’s office, and soon you’re surrounded by your family. Your real family.

Once eight-thirty rolls around, you all begin to disperse, back to your respective spaces to start working for the day, and everything feels normal.

And then, in a matter of seconds, it isn’t.

The second your eyes land on your partner standing down in the bullpen, you fall to your knees, scaring the shit out of Hotch.

“What happened?” He blurts, kneeling down to you. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you shake your head. “No, no, no...No, Hotch, they’re out there.”

Hotch doesn’t need their name. The fear on your face is enough.

About this time, you hear Derek’s voice growing in volume. The most you can make out is, “Put...down…!” And that’s when your blood runs ice cold.

You pat your right hip, hoping, praying, your weapon is magically there, even though you know it’s not. You put it in the safe when you got home last night. You didn’t have time to grab it before you ran out and drove to Hotch’s place. You left it there, in the safe, because you never think twice about it since it’s locked away.

But now…

“Don’t do this, man,” Derek yells. “Put. It. Down.”

“Where is she?” Your partner yells. “Tell me where she is!”

“I’m not telling you shit until you put the gun down,” Derek says, firmly. You’re frozen in place, on the floor next to Hotch’s desk as you listen.

“They have my gun,” you whisper to Hotch. “I didn’t think they— I don’t know how they knew the code, I change it every week, I thought—”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Hotch shushes you. “You stay here. Do not move. Try to get under my desk if you can.” He pauses. “There’s an extra pistol underneath. I want you to grab it just in case.”

You nod, but then a memory of last night grips you. “No! You can’t go out there!” You hiss, gripping Hotch’s arm.

Outside, you hear Emily’s voice adding to Derek’s, trying to talk your partner down. It’s a scene out of a horror movie. Straight from your worst nightmare.

“They already feel threatened by you, they’ll just shoot you the second they see you.”

“Not when they already have five guns on them.”

“Let me come with you,” you offer.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aaron, I have eight years of experience talking them down. I know what I’m doing.”

Hotch doesn’t like that you’re right.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod. You’re shaking all over, but you still nod.

“Okay. Crawl over and grab the pistol from my desk. Tuck it in your waistband, on your back. Go now.”

You stay low as you crawl over, finding the pistol strapped underneath his desk on the right side. Once it’s tucked in your waistband, you stand, facing the window. Hotch stands too, with his back to the blinds, and thank God they’re closed.

“Is she in there?” You hear your partner scream. “Is she with him?”

“Shit,” you mutter. “Shit, shit, shit, they’re gonna fucking kill me.” You hate that the possibility is very real. They have your gun. They could shoot you the second they see you. You’re not wearing any protective gear.

“No,” Hotch replies. “I’m not letting that happen.”

“Come out here, you lying bitch!”

Hotch looks ready to kill your partner himself.

“Babe?” You call out, putting on a false tone, the same one you always use when talking them down. “Babe, what are you doing here?”

You step into the doorway, feeling another frozen chill of fear shoot straight down your spine. They look crazed. Insane, even. Worse than you’ve ever seen, worse than last night, worse than the last eight years.

“Don’t babe me,” your partner seethes, but the gun is still trained on Derek.

You know it makes no sense, but you want them to turn the gun on you. Not Derek. Derek can’t be hurt because of you, not like this.

“Put the gun down,” you say, trying to stay calm and sweet, the way you usually have to be at home.

“I’m not listening to a damn thing you say,” your partner yells, and then the gun turns on you. “There he is.” The gun isn’t aimed at you. It’s on Aaron.

“Put it down,” Aaron’s level voice floats through the terror roaring in your ears. “I won’t ask again.” He shifts and you realize then that he has his own weapon trained on your partner.

“You won’t need to. Come out from behind my fiancé you coward.”

“She’s not your fiancé,” Hotch says. “And you won’t shoot her.”

“Want to bet on it?” Your partner lowers the gun slightly, now pointing it straight at your chest. Strangely, you don’t feel any panic surge through you. It’s telling. That even now, your head is telling you, they won’t hurt me, they never hurt me before.

“Don’t do it,” Derek yells. “I will shoot you, man. Don’t do it. You have six guns pointed at you right now. Do you really want to do this?”

The metal of Aaron’s pistol bites into your lower back when you shift on your heels. Your arms are frozen by your side, too afraid to reach for the gun.

“Put it down,” Rossi yells.

“You’ve got five seconds,” Derek adds. “Don’t make me get to one. Five. Four.”

Your partner’s fingers twitch on the trigger. Aaron catches the movement. Nods once when Derek says three. And on two, Derek pulls the trigger before your partner can do it first.

A broken scream rips from your chest when the bullet lodges itself in your partner’s side, your gun clattering to the ground. Derek steps forward and kicks the gun further away, out of reach.

Hotch lifts you around your waist and pulls you back into his office, kicking the door closed with his foot.

You’re numb to everything as he sits you down on the couch, wrapping his arms around you as you finally sob, letting out every scream that you’ve been holding in.

+++

Your partner is taken to the hospital to be treated for the gunshot wound.

Hotch tells you they won’t stand a chance at being acquitted, too many charges looming over their head already without the addition of domestic violence. You hardly hear his words, but you nod like you do.

He takes care of you while the commotion outside struggles to calm down. A blanket is wrapped around your shoulders, you hug a pillow to your chest, sniffling every few minutes as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks. Spencer brings you a mug of steaming tea that you barely manage to thank him for. Hotch thanks him properly for you before softly shutting his office door.

For months, you’ve been thinking about leaving them. For so long, you’ve wondered what life might be like without them. Now, you don’t know a thing.

You don’t know what to do. Where to go. Will you have to testify in court? If you do, will you have to talk about the...abuse? The abuse that you can barely bring yourself to label blatantly as abuse even though Aaron, your brain, everyone screams at you that that’s what it is — abusive behavior.

When you were a teenager, and even in your early twenties, learning about signs of abusive, unhealthy relationships, you never thought you’d end up in one. You thought surely you’d recognize the first signs and get out of there.

But instead, you did exactly what they said most people do. You brushed them off. You thought, oh, they just love me deeply, that’s all. They want what’s best for me, that’s all. They want me to be safe and protected, that’s all.

And that’s lovely, but there’s a difference. Between caring and controlling.

You never thought the difference would be so hard to see.

“Come on,” Aaron’s soft voice pierces through your thoughts. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You blink. “Where?”

“Wherever you want to go,” he replies gently. “Your apartment?”

Immediately, you shake your head. But then you pause. Because aside from your apartment and the BAU, you have nowhere else to go.

“Would you be comfortable going back to my apartment?” He asks. “I understand if it’s uncomfortable. I’m sure Garcia or Prentiss would be happy to let you stay with them, and I’ll gladly send them home with you.”

As much as you love Garcia and Prentiss, you strangely feel more comfortable with Aaron. After all, Pen and Emily don’t— or didn’t know about your partner’s behavior. Only Hotch knew.

“If you don’t mind, I’m...I’m okay with your place.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he smiles. “The guest room is yours for as long as you need.”

That makes you smile, though the expression feels foreign on your lips. “Don’t you have to stay?”

“It can be dealt with tomorrow,” he replies. “The paperwork will still exist tomorrow at eight a.m.”

“Okay,” you accept defeat. “Can I take this blanket?” You don’t like the idea of this weight leaving your shoulders.

“Of course,” he says.

You fall asleep in the car.

You didn’t mean to, but you were exhausted. And by the time you woke, Aaron had already carried you into his apartment. Startled, you gripped his arm a little too tight, but he shushed you carefully, letting you know you’re safe, he just didn’t want to wake you because you were sleeping so soundly.

He set you down on the guest bed where you tried and failed to get some rest last night, but now, you sleep like a baby.

+++

Months after the incident, the guest room at Aaron’s apartment has become your temporary home.

You still haven’t been back to the apartment you owned with your partner — even though their name is on the lease, not yours. You went once with Aaron to pick up your clothes and anything else important, but it was a quick trip. You were desperate to get out of there.

Aaron didn’t like what he saw. The broken glass, the dents in the walls. The way your body language changed immediately. Your unwillingness to return there is fine by him.

It’s a slow, uphill battle as you begin to heal. Your partner still sits in jail, awaiting their trial date. You know you might have to testify, but you know your team might have to be there as well, so that makes you feel better.

Aaron has been incredibly respectful of your space. You were the one who brought up the idea of carpooling to work, one of you driving every other day, to save on gas for the both of you. He had assumed you wanted to drive on your own and always have your car — which is true, but you didn’t mind riding with him.

He’s the only one your terrified brain doesn’t seem to be scared of.

And you’re not complaining. You’re grateful to feel a small ounce of safety after feeling every sense of unsafe for the past eight years.

+++

Your ex-partner’s trial comes and goes in the following three months. You did testify, along with the rest of your team, the verdict is guilty. Life in prison.

You wept on the steps of the courthouse from the sheer relief of it all.

“They’ll never hurt you again,” Aaron had told you and you didn’t believe him for one second.

Still now, as you know for a fact they are sitting in a prison cell, you have a small fear. But you think you always will.

You continue “rooming” with Aaron — that’s the best way you can think to put it — and you’ve come to really enjoy the weekends when Jack comes over. At the start, Aaron would try to take Jack out to the park to give you time alone, or you’d go spend some time with Penelope, but after a while, you started staying. And after a little while longer, Jack started warming up to you, and expecting your presence.

One weekend, you hear Jack and Aaron playing in the living room while you’re in Aaron’s office, trying to get some work done. And halfway through signing your name on a piece of paperwork, you hear Jack “whispering” to Aaron about you.

“Do you like her?” Jack whispers, but it definitely comes across as more of a soft shout.

Aaron’s eyes widen, and he presses his index finger to his lips. “A lot,” he says, but you don’t hear him — though you were straining pretty hard.

“Me too,” Jack giggles. “Is she your girlfriend?” He teases, poking his dad with his Lego sculpture.

Aaron pokes his son back with his own design. “No, buddy, she isn’t.” Again, you can’t hear him, but Jack’s question made your heart hammer in your chest.

You know you’ve had some feelings begin to develop because truthfully, they were blooming months ago, back when you began having dinner with Aaron. But then everything happened, and you still loved your ex, and things got too complicated.

Now, though, seven months out from the start of it all, the feelings are still there.

Aaron hasn’t made any moves, so you’ve kept silent. You don’t know how much of his good deeds are simply out of his own kindness. And you certainly don’t want to mistake it for something it’s not.

But kids pick up on things adults try hardest to hide.

You continue with your paperwork, listening to them continue to play.

It’s not until after Jack goes home to Hailey that his question is brought up, and it’s only because Aaron asked what was bothering you.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “But I’m here if you do.”

He’s always here. That’s what made you have a crush on him in the first place, years ago. He’s always there for anyone who needs him.

“I heard you and Jack earlier,” you start. “When he asked if I’m your girlfriend.”

Aaron sighs. “I’m sorry. I think it’s just confusing for him because to him, living together equals relationship since all he’s known is me and Hailey—”

“I’d like to be,” you interrupt his nervous rambling. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

He blinks a few times, then smiles. “You…” He pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Aaron, I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything—”

“I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything,” he counters. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” you whisper.

When he kisses you, it’s what you’ve longed for all this time. It’s exactly what you’ve been yearning for. It’s exactly the kind of love you know now that you deserve.

Recovery has been messy, and will continue to be messy for some time, but you’ll have Aaron next to you every step of the way. Always.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Red

Summary: Y/N has been having an infuriating dry spell in the love department lately, thanks to lockdown, and her roommate Jensen is getting fed up with her attitude. So, he lets her in on a little secret…

Pairing: Danneel x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: female masturbation, talk of male masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, lockdown was hard on singletons but great for phone sex operators Word Count: 4.5k Created for: @anyfandomgoesbingo - Sex Hotline AU | @spnkinkbingo - Tribbing

A/N: Requested by @danneelsmain - hope this lived up to your expectations babe! I haven't written Danneel before but I really enjoyed writing this ❤️

“Yes... yes... yesyesyes–”

“Hey, Y/N!” Bang, bang, bang! “Hurry up in there will ya? I’m dyin’ here,” Jensen jiggled the doorknob to no avail, and Y/N was incredibly thankful she’d remembered to lock it this time.

I’m dying here, Y/N thought to herself, pulling the shower head from between her legs with a frustrated huff, the water swirling down the drain carrying the fading vestiges of her almost-orgasm with it. She had been so close. Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Just a minute!” she shouted, frustration tipping over into anger. The knob on the faucet was twisted to the ‘off’ position with unnecessary violence, and the shower curtain was attached at one less ring than it had been half an hour ago when it was yanked open to settle against the back wall of the tub.

Bang! Ban–

“Seriously, Jensen?!” Y/N barely had the towel secured around herself before she threw open the door, hastily ducking to avoid Jensen’s knock-in-progress.

“Thank fuck.” Jensen danced around Y/N and shoved the door shut, sending Y/N slipping across the tiles on her still-wet feet and locking her on the other side. The clearly audible hiss of Jensen relieving himself leaked through the door and Y/N growled in frustration, aiming a kick at the door before stomping down the hallway to her room.

He couldn’t have waited ten more seconds…

It had been bad enough that lockdown got them all stuck at home with no possibility of one night stands, or follow-up booty calls to keep her sex drive in check, but now Y/N was having an even bigger problem. She hadn’t been able to get herself over the finish line for at least two weeks, and she had no earthly idea as to why. Y/N was beginning to think that regular orgasms were part of the reason that she was usually nice to be around, because right now she felt like she was one bad joke away from stabbing somebody.

And that someone was likely to be Jensen.

Tucked up into the corner of the couch was Y/N’s standard position these days. She wasn’t sure what was playing on the TV, something as mindless as she felt right now.

“Budge up.” Jensen hit her feet and flopped back gracelessly on top of them without giving her the chance to move them.

“Ow, asshole!” A pillow whipped through the air and collided squarely with the side of Jensen’s face.

“What is your problem lately?”

“You, clearly,” Y/N snapped, pulling her knees into her chest defensively. Jensen raised a single eyebrow, giving her a pointed look. “No, it’s not you,” Y/N admitted, letting some of her aggression seep out of her frame with her words. “Sorry.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

There was a stiff silence between them, Jensen waiting for Y/N to break and answer his question and Y/N knowing that she didn’t want to talk about this with Jensen but not seeing a way out of the conversation. Jensen had an irritating habit of getting her to open up about things she never planned on telling people – like the fact that she was gay. And now he was about to hear far more about her sex life than she ever wanted to share with someone of the male species.

“I’m, um,” her cheeks were on fire as she glanced up to see Jensen looking back at her with concerned curiosity. “I’m… having a problem,” she finished lamely.

“Okay…”

“I can’t… Do you ever–” Y/N choked on the words every time they tried to bubble through. “So… um, it’s– it’s been a while.” She saw comprehension flash over Jensen’s freckled face a moment later.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You know PornHub has a whole section for lesbian shit, right?” Another pillow hits him in the face. “Okay, okay, ow,” Jensen rubs his jaw in exaggeration. “But seriously, it’s been a while for everyone. You just gotta take business into your own hands.”

“You don’t think I’ve been doing that?” Y/N hissed, unconsciously checking around them as if someone else was in their apartment who might overhear.

“Well then what’s the problem?”

“I haven’t like,” Y/N made a variety of nonsequitous hand motions that had no bearing on the word ‘orgasm’ but Jensen seemed to get the message.

“How long?” he cringed.

“Like, almost three weeks? And it’s not like I haven’t been trying like, everything, I just… can’t,” she shrugged helplessly. “Has this kind of thing ever happened to you? Is there something like, physically wrong with me?”

“No, no, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you,” Jensen rushed to reassure her, patting her leg awkwardly. “This kind of thing happens all the time.”

“So it’s happened to you too?” Hope shone from Y/N’s face that maybe she wasn’t doomed to a life empty of sexual pleasure.

“Well… no, not exactly.” Y/N’s shoulders drooped, hopes slashed.

“How are you staying so sane?” Y/N accused. “You used to be with a different girl every few days before all of this.”

“Hey! I was not,” Jensen was mock offended but Y/N could tell he was also a little proud. “And I’ve, uh… I’ve got my sources,” his eyes twinkled mischievously as he answered her question.

“Jensen Ross Ackles, have you been sneaking out behind my back!”

“No,” he rolled his eyes, “nothing like that.” Jensen pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the screen as Y/N watched.

“Jen, if you’re trying to show me porn, I’m good. Don’t need to see what you get off to,” Y/N shuddered at the thought. A text beeped on her phone a second later, Jensen’s name popping up on the screen.

“That’s my source,” he explains and she opens the message to see a 1-800 number, next to the word Red.

“Red?”

“Red.” Jensen confirmed with a wicked grin, nodding sagely.

Y/N could not believe she was about to do this. She looked down at the number on her phone screen, ready to dial as soon as she pressed the little green button. Jensen’s assurances echoed in her head. Best phone sex I’ve ever had… she actually gets off with you, she’s not just faking it… sounds so hot, and her body is killer in her profile pic. Admittedly, the picture he’d shown her had been really fucking sexy. A slender girl in small red panties and unfairly pretty breasts cradled in a satin bra covered in little hearts, dark red hair pinned up around her face in a vintage style.

Before she could talk herself out of it again, Y/N pressed dial and held the phone up to her ear. It rang a few times before connecting to an automated menu, and Y/N was secretly relieved she wouldn’t have to ask an operator if she could speak to ‘Red’.

Thank you for calling the Sugar Lips Hotline. Please enter your card details to continue.

Jensen had warned her about this part, so she had her card sitting out of her wallet on the desk in front of her.

If you know who you are trying to reach, please press one. If you would like to be assigned a random operator, please press two.

Y/N shakily pressed the number one, and then put the phone on speaker while she was at it.

If you would like to speak with Candy, press one, followed by the pound key. If you would like to speak with Kitty, press two, followed by the pound key. If you would like to speak with Lance…

Y/N wondered if she would still have the confidence to go through with this by the time the robotic voice mentioned ‘Red’.

If you would like to speak with Red, press thirteen, followed by the pound key.

The moment of truth. Y/N entered the number 13 and then pressed the pound key. The line began to ring again.

“Hi there,” a temptingly soft voice slipped through the receiver of the phone sitting on the desk in front of her.

“Hi-i,” Y/N’s voice was jarring in comparison, breaking on the first word she uttered.

“Oh, so I’ve got a pretty little girl on the line today, huh?” Y/N didn’t know how to answer so she didn’t, hands frozen in a death grip on the sleeves of her too big sweatshirt. “What’s your name, baby?”

“Y/N,” she whispered back, suddenly scared that Jensen would be able to hear every word being said in her room. Quickly digging into her pockets she pulled out her headphones and plugged them into her cell. Why hadn’t she done that earlier?

“That’s such a pretty name, baby,” the woman cooed, and now her voice was right against Y/N’s ears; it felt like she was in the room, whispering against her skin. “I’m Red.”

“That’s what I should call you?” Y/N managed to keep the tremor out of her words this time.

“Unless you want to call me something else? I can be whoever you want me to be baby girl. Mommy, ma’am, mistress…” Y/N’s heart thundered against her ribs. She realised that she had no idea what she wanted from this – she just knew she was desperate. “Or maybe you want to be in charge? I could be your baby, your good little girl.” Y/N wished she could see Red right now, watch what she looked like as she purred all these promises down the line, teasing and tempting.

“Is,” Y/N gulped, “is there anyone you want me to be?”

“Nuh-uh,” she tutted, and Y/N could imagine her shaking her head, red curls flying by her cheeks. “This is all about you Y/N. I’m here to make you feel good.”

Y/N felt a lick of heat curl in the base of her stomach, twisting itself around her intestines.

“Yeah, I could use that,” she laughed nervously, figuring she should be honest if she wanted this to work out well. And she really needed it to.

“Oh, have you been feeling a little pent up baby?” Red’s voice echoed in Y/N’s ears. The small vibrations coming out of her earbuds were enough to start sending a pulsing sensation down the side of her neck, worming its way under her skin and into her veins. Christ, it had been too long.

“You have no idea.”

“Well, I betcha we can fix that. Are you somewhere comfortable sweetie?”

“I could get on the bed?” Y/N offered, wondering why she hadn’t started there in the first place, rather than at her desk.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Red purred seductively. “Why don’t you stretch out on the bed, get yourself nice and cozy. Maybe prop a pillow up next to you and think about me snuggling you in real close. Wish I could be there to put my hands all over your body.”

Y/N was thankful she was already sitting on her bed by the time Red finished painting her little scene because if she’d been walking, she’s pretty sure her knees would have given out.

“Fuck, it’s been so long since I felt another girl’s hands on me.” She tried not to be embarrassed at how whimpery her voice had gone. If this went well it was about to get a whole lot worse anyways.

“I want to touch every inch of you,” Red breathed heavily. “Run my fingers through your hair, over your neck, down your back. Would I find a bra there to unhook, baby?”

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed, arching her shoulders and feeling the band scratch taught around her ribs, pushing her breast up towards her chin.

“Why don’t you take that off for me?”

“Okay,” Y/N felt her voice shake as much as her hands as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, breathing deeply when the pressure of the garment disappeared.

“Bet that felt good, didn’t it baby?” Red laughed knowingly.

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, loosening up a little at the acknowledgement of a shared experience, something all girls could relate to. She pulled her arms through the straps beneath her sweatshirt and shimmying the discarded bra out the bottom before pushing her arms back through her sleeves. The peaks of her nipples tightened as they caught on the pills of fleece that now sat against her chest.

“What else are you wearing?”

Suddenly embarrassed she hadn’t thought to put on anything sexy in preparation for this call, Y/N didn’t manage more than an “um…” before Red laughed, a warm sound that melted into her like chocolate against your tongue.

“Why don’t I tell you what I’m wearing?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded before she remembered that Red couldn’t see her. “Bet it’s something really sexy,” she attempted to flirt, cringing at how awkward she sounded.

“Well that depends,” Red mused. “Do you like lace?”

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed. She loved seeing girls in lace lingerie; the way the delicate weave of the pattern offered small tastes of the skin it covered, the way you could feel someone’s warmth seeping through such a thin fabric so easily, the way it felt to have someone touch you or suck you through such a meagre sheet of modesty…

“What about stockings?” Red voice broke through Y/N’s train of thought, pulling her back to the vaguely out of body experience she was having.

“Love them,” Y/N answered quietly, trying to pitch her voice the way Red was, low and alluring.

“Well, that’s a shame,” she sighed dramatically. “Because I’m not wearing anything at all right now, sorry to disappoint.” Y/N couldn’t see her but she would bet anything Red was wearing a big pout right now. She wondered what her lips looked like. In her head she pictured soft and pillowy.

“You are such a tease,” Y/N laughed, hoping to disguise the pang of arousal that had shot through her a moment before.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you baby?”

“Yeah, I really do,” Y/N found herself admitting unconsciously.

“Are you gonna keep teasing me, or are you gonna get naked too baby girl?”

A throb of desire fluttered between Y/N’s legs, her pussy clenching, and when she squirmed back into her pillow a little she felt the lace fabric of her own panties sliding a little more between her thighs. Her arousal had started to soak out of her and into the material.

“You want me naked?” Y/N’s words scratched their way out of her throat, trying to pull her confidence along with them.

“Oh god, please baby,” Red moaned loudly, but it didn’t sound fake. It was like Jensen had told her, it sounded like she was really enjoying this, and like she was actually getting off on what was happening between them right now. “Want to feel your skin against mine.”

“I want that too, baby,” Y/N’s hasty breaths shook her words. She stripped out of her underwear and shoved her phone and headphones down the front of her sweatshirt so she could shimmy it over her head without disconnecting the earbuds. She didn’t want to miss anything.

“God, if I was there I would kiss all over you. Bet you taste amazing,” Red sighed, and Y/N could hear something shifting over the phone, like fabric moving around.

“Are you on your bed too?” Y/N asked.

“Yep, all spread out for you baby girl.”

“Are you touching yourself?” Y/N’s confidence was starting to build as she heard how much Red sounded like she’s into this, and she couldn’t deny she was turned on too. She felt wetter than she’d been in weeks, and when her fingers drifted down over her stomach its muscles twitched in anticipation of where she was about to touch.

“Where do you want me to touch?” Y/N let her eyes slide closed, and she could imagine Red batting her lashes as she asked - where do you want me to touch? - She pictured the girl she’d seen in the photo poised over her, legs straddling Y/N’s hips as Red ran her hands over her own body, fingers trailing over her throat, fondling her breasts, twisting around the pink flesh at the tips of each, lingering on the soft of her stomach before dipping lower.

“I want you to touch between your legs and tell me how wet you are,” Y/N said between deep breaths, trying to keep her voice even.

“I’m already so wet for you, baby,” Red gasped, and Y/N hoped it was a reaction to her fingers slipping inside her pussy.

“If you were here with me, what would you do right now?”

“I’d make you watch me fuck myself on my fingers.” Holy shit, Y/N couldn’t help the moan that bled through her lips, and she heard Red chuckle. “Yeah, you like the sound of that baby?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N whimpered, her own fingers finally making their way between her legs and sliding easily through the slick she found there.

“I’d straddle myself right over your face, so you could see my fingers fucking my pussy, feel me dripping on you.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“And then, when my fingers are nice and soaked, you’re gonna suck them clean like a good little girl, aren’t you sweetheart?” Red’s monologue was absolutely wrecking Y/N, she wanted everything the woman on the end of the line was describing so badly. “Want you to do it to yourself, since I can’t be there to do it for you. Can you get those fingers nice and wet for me baby?”

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” Y/N pushed two fingers inside her pussy, clenching around them wantonly. She must have let out some kind of noise because Red giggled again before she continued talking.

“That’s it, fuck yourself for me baby girl, until I can do it for you.” And fucking hell, the thought of Red actually with her, touching her, fucking her… “Your fingers nice and dirty now?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N squeaked, pressing against her g-spot to get herself even wetter.

“Good girl,” Red hummed. “Now suck them clean for me, Y/N. Want you to taste just how sweet you are. God, wish I could taste you too,” she moaned, her breath hitching.

Y/N obeyed Red’s instructions, sucking her fingers into her mouth and twirling her tongue around them, curling it across the dips and whorls of her fingertips. She groaned around the digits in her mouth, trying to make it audible that she was doing as she was told.

“Good girl,” Red cooed again, obviously hearing Y/N’s sucking. “Good filthy girl. You’re so dirty aren’t you baby, bet you’re dripping onto the sheets right now you’re so horny.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N felt her whole body clenching as she pushed her hand back between her legs, toying with her clit and sending fresh jolts of desire to her core. “Fuck, I’m touching myself again. Couldn’t help it, you’re so hot baby.”

“I want you to touch yourself sweetie. Want you to make yourself feel so good.”

“I want you to feel good too,” Y/N whimpered, maybe stupidly, but she remembered Jensen saying that Red got off with him and she wanted the same thing. She wanted to know that Red wanted her, that Red found her sexy. She didn’t want to be in this alone.

“Oh, I am feeling so good baby girl,” Red assured Y/N, her voice brimming with sincerity and whimpers to back it up. “Fucking myself so good, pretending it’s your fingers inside me.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Y/N couldn’t come up with anything more eloquent than that. The more she played with herself the foggier her brain got.

“What are you imaging right now?”

“Thinking about you, you on top of me.”

“You want me on top, huh? Want me to hold you down a little, baby?”

“Mm, yeah,” Y/N sighed, slipping two fingers from her free hand down to her entrance and pushing them inside, keeping her other hand on her clit, rolling it between her fingers. “You could hold me down, grind yourself against me. Use me to get yourself off.” Y/N’s breathing was ragged now, and the fingers inside her pussy sought out her g-spot again, starting to focus their efforts a little more concertedly on the spongy bundle of nerves.

“Oh sweetie, that’s so hot, fuck,” Red moaned heavily, her breath catching on her curse. “I’d grind against you so good. Rub our pussies together, all slick and hot, grind my clit against yours nice and hard. Fuck, touch your clit for me baby.”

“I am,” Y/N gasped, drawing fast little circles over the nub between her legs. “Fuck, want all that so bad. Think you could come like that? Just from rubbing your pussy on me, getting me all wet and dirty?”

“Fuck yes, love rubbing my pussy on yours, love grinding our clits together. I could tease you so good. Go nice and slow, wonder how long you’d last before you start begging me to let you cum.”

“I’m close,” Y/N whimpered, surprised at how true it was. She hadn’t gotten so close to cumming this quickly in ages.

“Already baby? You naughty little girl,” Red groaned, and the sound of bed springs crackled through Y/N’s earbuds too. Y/N pictured Red arching off the bed, fucking her hips into her fingers. “You want to cum for me baby?”

“Fuck, yes, yes please,” Y/N begged, feeling the muscles in her thighs and stomach starting to constrict, heat singing through her veins.

“Not yet baby, keep fucking yourself.” Y/N let out a pathetic whine in protest. “You can do that for me, can’t you sweetie. Fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers for me?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Good girl, I’m so fucking close baby.”

“Fuck, please, want you to cum. Want you to cum with me.” Y/N’s eyes squeezed tight as small pinpricks of light started to burst in the darkness of her vision.

“Gonna cum for you, baby girl,” Red cried, voice high and tight. “Fuck, I’m gonna squirt, I can feel it. Gonna squirt all over your pussy, fucking soak you.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N felt like she might actually start crying, she needed to cum so badly. She was so so so close.

“Rub that little clitty, pretend it’s me rubbing up against you. All hot and wet,” her voice was breaking, her words short and breathless, and Y/N could tell Red was as close as she was. “Gonna cum all over you. Fuck, gonna squirt so hard bet I could actually cum inside you.”

“Holy fuck!” Y/N’s hips snapped into the air, searching for the imaginary body she wished was there. It was becoming hard to hear through the intense buzzing in her ears. Every nerve in her body was pulled taut, ready to snap.

“Cum for me Y/N, c’mon baby, you can do it, want you to cum for me like the good little girl you are baby, c’mon.”

Y/N was sobbing, wrist pistoning her fingers in and out of herself faster than she ever remembered being able to move, and she felt the walls of her pussy clamping down, trying to keep the pressure inside where it wanted it. And then she couldn’t take it anymore. Everything froze. She might have screamed, but to be honest she couldn’t be too sure, because she couldn’t hear anything except the white light that had flooded the dark space behind her eyelids.

Lockdown became much more bearable after that day. Though Y/N did have to try really hard to not think about the fact that she and Jensen were kind of fucking the same girl. In a way. It was weird. But if she ignored that part, then her ‘dates’ with Red were perfect. She was finally able to release all the tension, sexual and otherwise, that this whole mess had building up in her system constantly. And eventually, the world started to open back up and things started to get just a little bit easier.

Y/N wondered what she would do when lockdown was well and truly over. When the bars and clubs opened up again, would she and Jensen go out and try to hook up like they always had before? Would everything just go back to normal? Would she still want to call Red if she was getting actual sex with a real girl, and not just her hand or a bit of silicone? Yes. The answer was most definitely yes, Y/N had to admit to herself. Even though it was just phone sex, it was still some of the best sex she’d ever had.

Well, Red is a professional, she thought to herself wryly as she spooned some froth onto the top of the cappuccino she was making. The coffee shop she worked at had reopened last week, finally.

“Y/N! Can you jump on register while I take my break?” Michelle called from the end of the counter.

“Sure thing,” Y/N smiled and wiped her hands off on her apron, making her way behind the other baristas to the cash register. She briefly glanced at the line of people waiting to order – a couple of college kids carrying some scary looking textbooks, a portly man scratching his bald patch, a pretty girl with shiny hair and awesome winged liner. Y/N blushed as she caught the eye of the girl, and immediately looked back at her tablet, typing in her register code.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” Y/N’s customer service voice was alarmingly cheery, and the two college guys blinked, startled, clearly still unused to interacting with humans again – Y/N knew the feeling, cringing internally. She made a note to dial the pep back a little.

“Hey, what can I get you?” It was the pretty girl at the front of the line now.

“Um, I’ll have a caramel latte, please,” she answered with a bright smile, red lips stretching across shockingly white teeth.

“Size?” Y/N asked, tapping the order into her tablet.

“How big can you make it?” the girl giggled, and Y/N looked up, something tugging at the back of her mind.

“Um, large?” Y/N answered absentmindedly, trying to figure out what was bugging her so much. The girl just nodded, politely accepting the fact that Y/N had skated over her joke. “Can I get a name for the order?” She grabbed the large sized cup and uncapped the marker, hand poised over the white cardboard, ready to write.

“Oh, sure. It’s Danneel.”

“Danielle?” Y/N asked, her mind still wandering.

“No, Dan– you know what, it’s a weird name. Just go with Red.”

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[triptuckers]

Sacrifice - Alina Starkov

Pairing: Alina Starkov x heartrender!reader Word: Sacrifice  Warnings: none Words: 870 A/N: this piece is part of my 800 followers celebration I am still sick but I did manage to write this yay for me now I'm exhausted & will take a nap lol enjoy reading!

You’ve been running from the palace with Alina for several days now. You’re Grisha as well, and you vowed to protect her as you run from the Darkling. You’d been one of the Grisha most loyal to him, but when you found out who he actually is, you turned your back on him to help Alina.

Halfway through the forest you’re currently traveling through, you’ve set up camp. 

since it’s too risky to start a fire, you stay close to each other to keep warm. You’re both tired, but can’t fall asleep. 

You tell Alina she can get some rest, and you take the first watch. It doesn’t take long for Alina to fall asleep, safely tucked away in your side. 

You’re freezing and you’re tired, but you fight to stay awake. You couldn’t live with yourself if the Darkling got a hold of Alina because you fell asleep and failed to protect her. 

It’s dark, and you’re on edge. Every sound you hear is a Grisha looking for you. Every movement is the Darkling and his shadows. You shake the thoughts out of your head. You’re being unreasonable. You’d know if they were close. 

You’re a heartrender, you’d be able to feel and hear their heartbeats. 

It’s been quite some time since you and Alina sat down. She's fast asleep, leaning her weight on your shoulder. Normally, you’d be grateful for the way she’s cuddling you. But in this situation, you’re worried. 

You should be on the move, creating as much distance between you and the palace as you could. But you’d walked for hours without stopping to rest. And eventually, you both got too tired, so you agreed to rest for the night.

Just as you see the sky lightening a bit, indicating the sun would come up soon, you also hear a sound. One you’d been terrified to hear. A heartbeat. And it’s not yours or Alina’s. 

You try to remain calm as you count the heartbeats you can hear. A total of 5. Even with the sun summoner herself by your side, you’re outnumbered. You have little to no time to come up with a plan.

Quickly, you shake Alina awake. She looks at you, a bit confused. When she opens her mouth to say something, you quickly silence her by placing a finger over your lips. 

‘They’re here.’ you whisper softly. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. I'm going to lower your heartbeat-’ ‘What?’ says Alina, interrupting you.

‘Alina, please listen. You are Ravka’s future. I'm going to drop your heartbeat, in case he’s got heartrenders with him as well. They won’t be able to detect you. I'll draw them away from you, let them catch me. When you wake up, continue traveling west.’ you explain. 

‘No, no, you can’t leave me!’ says Alina.

You look over your shoulder, hearing the other heartbeats getting closer and closer.

‘I'll come find you,��I promise.’ you say.

‘Y/N no!’ says Alina, moving her hands and getting ready to summon light.

‘I'm sorry.’ you whisper as you raise your hands and drop her heartbeat. Her body goes limp, you wrap her coat more tightly around her to protect her from the cold until she wakes up.

After one last look at Alina, you begin to walk through the woods, toward the heartbeats.

You’re not surprised when you run into Fedyor only a few minutes later. You look at his eyes. There’s a hint of regret in them. He’d been your friend when you were both at the palace. You wished you could go back to that time. But you’d swore to protect Alina, and Fedyor was one of the Darkling’s most trusted heartrenders.

‘I've got her!’ he yells before taking a hold of both of your arms. He drags you to a clearing in the forest. 

As expected, the Darkling is there. Wearing his usual black kefta. Next to him stand Ivan, Zoya, and David. You don’t know why he would bring a fabrikator, but that’s the least of your worries right now.

‘Y/N.’ says the Darkling in a cold voice. ‘Of course you would turn against me. Tell me, where is my sun summoner?’ 

‘She’s not yours.’ you bitterly say. ‘And I was hoping you could tell me where she is.’ 

He frowns ever so slightly. ‘You don’t know where Alina is?’ he says.

‘No.’ you say, steadying your breathing so your heartbeat doesn’t quicken. You know both Ivan and Fedyor are closely monitoring you. But you know their tricks, and how to avoid getting caught.

‘You mean to tell me, you’re out in the woods by yourself, also looking for Alina?’ says the Darkling.

‘Yes.’ you say.

‘And you’re quite sure you didn’t run away with her, helping her get away?’ he says.

‘I did not.’ you say.

The Darkling looks at Fedyor and Ivan, who both give short nods.

‘Her heartbeat is steady, she’s not lying.’ says Fedyor.

‘Very well then.’ says the darkling. ‘Release her. I could use another heartrender.’

Fedyor lets go of you and you follow the Darkling out of the forrest. Sure, he got you. Who knows what he’ll make you do. But he doesn’t have Alina. That’s all that matters.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[sweetsunflowerkisses]

the library.

Pairing: Loki (MCU) x Fem!Reader 

Genre: Angst (??)

Warnings: Implied Character Death , Mentions of Loki’s faked death, Descriptions of falling?, Cannon Divergence, Making a bunch of shit up about Asgardian relationships and Asgardians in general? Angst, Bad writing TvT

Summary: In your final moments you reflect on your relationship with Loki and wish that you could be back at the library with him.

Word Count: 1.9k (It’s kinda short TvT)

a/n: I was rewatching Thor and the first avengers movie and this idea popped into my head and I kinda hate myself for writing it :D Also I’m working on Secret Identities Are Hard To Keep, I promise TvT

Falling. You had always wondered what it would feel like going from a height like this. It was almost euphoric, the wind pushing against your back as you fell, carrying your tears up with it. These were your final moments, you knew that, there was no surviving a fall from this height, not even with the strength provided by the asgardian blood that ran through your veins. So you did what most people did in their final moments, reflected on how you got here.

It all started centuries ago, in the golden palace on Asgard, the place where you were raised as a noble, your father being one of the Allfather’s most trusted advisers. Your memory of those years were riddled with the overwhelming feelings of loneliness, your only company being the vast array books in the palace library. You were lonely until the day you met him.

It was a day like any other, your father was tied up in various meetings with the Allfather and other important asgardians and like always you were camped out in the library. Through the years that you had spent here it had become your safe space and in the very back in a small corner was your place of happiness there was a small emerald chaise lounge with just the right amount of light and all of the books you had ever enjoyed stacked up around it. What you didn’t expect was for someone to already be occupying your oh so sacred spot.

He was stretched out on the lounge, his thin form but tall form draping over the edge a book in hand. You knew who he was of course, you were a noble after all, the dark prince, the forgotten prince, the boy that spent his years in his brother's shadow. In all of your 400+ years you don’t think you had ever seen him so peaceful, so you did what you usually did around people, you turned to leave. What you weren’t expecting was to feel the feather light touch of a hand on your wrist.

You looked up your eyes meeting his soft green ones. You wondered how he knew about this corner, about you and your time here, but pushed the thought aside as your gazes locked. There was something there, an unspoken understanding from one outsider to the other. He smiled softly, pulling a book out of seemingly nowhere and handing it to you wordlessly. You smiled in thanks and watched as he left, his green cape swaying behind him. And that was how it started.

You would have expected falling to be something that was over quickly yet it somehow seemed like the longest moment of your life. You knew you were getting closer though, you could see the tops of other buildings now, so as you waited you went back to thinking.

After that fateful meeting your relationship with the raven haired prince slowly started to change, for nearly fifty years the two of you would simply give each other books you thought the other would like, starting off wordlessly and eventually progressing into bigger and bigger conversations until the two of you would spend hours in the library together, animatedly talking about whatever book you were interested in that day, no doubt blowing off countless responsibilities your fathers had begun to place on you now that you were growing older.

It was around a hundred years after your first meeting that your relationship crossed from friendly conversations to stolen kisses and secret meetings. The two of you were around 500 and 600 now, both preparing for your futures. Loki trained to become both a warrior and a king, despite the limited possibility of him ascending to the throne, and you training alongside Her Majesty the Queen and other female nobles, preparing to become the perfect wife and partner for the next generation of Asgardian nobles. Yet you still found time for each other, spending as much time as you could together, only finding comfort in one another.

It was when the two of you hit 900 and 800 that Loki became consumed by his anger. It was in secret of course, as most of his emotions often were, but his emotions were always something you and you alone had the privilege of seeing. By now you and the pale prince were an official couple, Odin and Frigga having blessed the relationship, allowing Loki to court you and eventually allowing the two of you to biome some form of official, not married, but official enough to be allowed to share a bedchamber without getting odd looks.

In the past Loki had always confessed his anger to you, never allowing it to influence his actions, reveling in the catharsis he achieved by ranting to you as you played with his hair, but now, as he watched his arrogant brother become more and more loved by the people, as he watched his brother be promised the throne despite his hotheadedness and obsession with being a warrior, something within him snapped. Now he would yell for hours on end, often trashing your chambers, rather than his usual soft kisses that were full of love, his kisses were messy, needy and full of all the rage he could never show. It was in everything he did every emotion tainted by the anger that masked the true emotion. But you accepted him, every bit of him and so you did what you could. You matched his energy but also reminded him that you were still there, still there to give him new books, still there to play with his hair and still there for him to lean on.

As you fell your thoughts wandered back to the present, you were nearly there, you could hear the screams below, and you could see the chitauri army and the chaos that they brought with them. You could see the faint outline of Iron Man landing on the tower and your thoughts once again returned to Loki and everything that brought you here.

After the exile of Thor and the era of Loki as King you thought maybe everything would stop, the looks and the whispers that everyone would finally stop treating Loki like he was just a liar and a danger, you yearned for and prayed for the return of the Loki you fell in love with. You were distraught when Thor returned, telling you that Loki’s ascension to the throne was all based on lies, that he had been responsible for the frost giants that had gotten in the palace, that he had tried to kill his friends, that he had tried to kill his brother. And that he was now plotting something far worse. Somehow, as much as you didn’t want to, you knew it was true, but despite everything you knew that your feelings wouldn’t change. So you fought Thor, or at least tried, not being able to actually bring yourself to deal any damage to the god, too overwhelmed with the truth of it all, so you ran. You ran back to the place where it all started, back to the library, back to your corner of safety.

You found out he was dead the next day, Thor sought you out to tell you himself, yet somehow there was the nagging feeling in the back of your brain that Thor was wrong, and boy were you right.

It was 2012 when he finally resurfaced, you had spent most of your days hiding from the asgardian population, from the prying eyes of everyone who figured you had something to do with the events of the previous year. You were once again faced with the fact that your feelings remained unchanged for him, that despite the reality of what he was doing, trying to enslave a whole population you would still do anything for him. It was Heimdall who alerted you of his return, but it was the Queen who convinced you to go to him, to try and bring back the love that you had spent nearly 600 of your years devoted to. So you did.

You landed on the rooftop of Stark Tower, admiring the pretty pattern the bifrost has burned into the gravel. It wasn’t long before Loki found you, after all the Bifrost was kinda hard to miss. It was emotional for you, seeing the man you loved after spending so long thinking he might be dead. You approached him slowly, he rushed to you in return, overjoyed at the sight of you, telling you of his grand plan, inviting you to join him, to be his queen, to rule over Midgard with him. It was tempting and for a moment, just a single moment you considered it. But you refused, nearly begging him to stop the madness, to return to you, attempting to reassure him that no matter what you would still be there, that you would still love him despite the things he’d done in the past few years. You told him how that while you didn’t quite understand everything that you could listen and love him, that you would give him everything the world never did. Yet, it was when you looked up into his eyes that you realised that something was truly wrong, that your prince might truly be gone, rather than the normal green that usually stared down at you a piercing blue met your gaze.

You backed up slowly, this was the man you loved yes but there was something else in him too, something that was evil and corrupting, something you were sure would infect you too if you joined him. And it was backing up that had been your mistake, the platform on top of Stark Tower was by no means small but you had simply landed too close to the edge, and as you stepped back you felt nothing and you began to fall.

Loki lunged, moving faster than he ever had, just barely grasping your left hand in time. And you watched as his eyes flickered in between his green and the unnatural blue and that's when you realised, he was scared. But you were slipping and his grip simply wasn’t enough. You smiled softly, knowing what was going to happen next, tears beginning to stream down your face, and with your last words you simply whispered “I love you.”.

You fell, leaving Loki only clutching air, but then he felt something else as his fist closed around the air where your hand had just been. He knew what it was almost immediately and looked down to find the gold band with a single emerald in it sat in his hand. The ring that had adorned your ring finger for the past three years, the proof that despite it all you loved him. And you smiled.

You knew it was the end now, the sound of cars and people louder than before, and you wondered what would have happened if you hadn’t been in the library that day. With your very last moments you imagined yourself on the emerald chaise, surrounded by books with Loki on your lap, playing with his hair as he read to you and you smiled for the last time

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

COSAS DE NIÑOS.

Marcus Alvarez x Che Taza Romero's daughter!Reader

Word count: 2k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💖

Author Comments: Just something I needed to write about, I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @fromthesixteenthfloor

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​ @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“FUCK!”

You spit your coffee turning over your barefoot, looking at your daughter through the american kitchen, without repairing in the mess you have done all around the tile floor. Lucia is painting in one of her color books and apparently she came out of the line.

“What was that, ah?”

She glances at you somewhat confused, pausing her important task.

“It's my new favorite word”.

The girl shrugs her shoulders playing the innocent one.

“No, it's not. And don' say that again”.

“Fuck”. She repeats challenging you, narrowing the big brown eyes.

“¿Qué dijo, señorita?” (What did you say?)

“You hea'me, mama”.

“Okay… Pack your things”.

“Where we goen'?” Her confusion comes back to her face, getting up from the chair.

“You're gonna say it to El Padrino”.

“No! No, mama! I'm sorre'!” She runs at you terrified, tangling her tiny arms around your right leg.

“I said ‘pack your things’, señorita”. There's no way back. Not even when Lucia starts to cry begging you with all her efforts.

Ignoring your daughter, you end your coffee as she put her case and her book inside the pink bag, with the tears wetting the shirt she's wearing. Sometimes is painful act like you don't care that she's sad, nor upset, nor unhappy, but she has to learn what se can say and what she can't. It would be easy if her father was there, with you two, but you can't try to fuck up the MC if you don't wanna be buried somewhere in the Sonoran desert. At least, you have your father who usually helps you with Lucia constantly. But Marcus is the one she loves. No one can mess with him is your daughter is around. And of course, no one can mess with your daughter without suffering by El Padrino. You know him since ever, practically, and when the Mayans killed Lucia's father, he promised you that he would take care of both at all cost. You didn't even love that man, so make him disappear was also a god's gift.

Your daughter is crying inconsolably while you tie up the seat belt around her body in the back seat. She stills begging you. Whenever she does something bad, you resort to Marcus. He always knows what to say and what to do with her. And you sometimes feel you shouldn't put that weight on his shoulders, but he seems so delighted when he does that it melts your heart. By turning on your car, you drive through the south border from Santa Madre to Santo Padre, and it only takes you some minutes where your headache starts to grow because of your child's weeping.

“Mama, plez', I'm sorre'”. Bawling full of pain, whilst grabbing her hand as soon as she gets out from the car.

All the bikes are parked there, what it means that the whole crew is inside the clubhouse. This is just getting better and better. Usually, when she misbehaves, the Mayans makes a completely show with it only to support your decisions to correct her bad behavior. Crossing the main door, as her cries get loud, the guys stare at you frowning in your daughter's direction. Leaving in the background whatever they were doing before you came, all of them cross their arms above their chests adopting that position they call “mad tíos”.

“Wha' happen', princesa?” Marcus asks with hidden curiosity.

“Mama, plez'”. She turns at you showing her best puppy-eyes reddened and filled with tears.

“I told ya', señorita. Now, tell Padrino”. You push her into the man, walking with small and slow steps towards him.

The girl has her head down, sobbing and shaking a little with her tiny hands tangled under her belly.

“What did you do, mija?” He says leaning with his arms supported on his lap.

Lucia turns at you for a second, waiting for a last minute redemption. However, you raise your chin pouting in a serious look. She sighs cleaning her tears with the back of her hands, ahead she looks at El Padrino.

“I ju—I just say som—somethen'… bad”.

The mexican nods thoughtful before the next question.

“About me?”

“No! ’Cors' no!” She shakes her head in a dramatic way, taking some more steps close to him.

Your father places himself by your side, giving you a funny look as you're trying not to laugh watching the heart-break faces the crew has.

“I sa-said… ‘fuck’”.

The Mayans continue the show, making a surprised sound before clicking their tongues in disagreement. Good Lord, it's costing you your whole life not to break in laughter.

“Why do I think you didn't just say it once?” Marcus gesture gets somewhat rude and angry, but with that calm position he always has.

“I said it… twice”. When your girl sees how disappointed is her true love, she tries to fix it.

“Dammit, mami!” Coco and Angel says, as the guys pretend that they're whispering about Lucia just to make her feel worse. You all are going to burn in hell.

“But 'am sorre'! I'll not say tha'gain! I promise!”

Marcus, lying on his chair, cross his arms on his chest putting his gaze away your daughter, but in you for a second.

“Wait outside and think about what you did. I'm gonna talk with mama in the meantime”.

Your daughter's cheek are being runned by some tears, so long as she nods.

“Can I hug you?”

You can notice who every heart in the room stops for a second, yours included. Sometimes is so hard to not comfort her that you feel extra bad. But she has to learn one way or another.

“No, mija. Estoy triste por lo que hiciste”. (No, mija. I'm sad for what you did). Marcus gets up of his chair, putting well on his kutte whilst turning to the Templo.

“Sit outside and think about what you did”. You say to your daughter as soon as she walks close to you.

“Mama… do ya' think he coul' be happe' if I draw somethen'?” Lucia asks you with a broken voice and her eyes on her foots.

“I don' know. Try it”.

This sounds like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, so she practically runs to your car to take her bag and get to work, sitting on the couch in the porch.

“Jeez, my heart…” EZ says, while you chuckles and the rest seems agreed.

“She only listens to Marcus”.

And that's true. Sometimes it bothers you and pushes you to the limit, but you're thankful for having him in your life. Passing away the men who continue with whatever they were doing, you close Templo's door behind your back resting it there. You're laughing slightly like he's doing also shaking his head.

“You're a good mother”. He says then, pulling away the main chair at the table, so he can support his body against the edge.

“Yea', I think so… But sometimes it just… It's difficult”. That's all you can say, because you're not sure how explain it, even if you know he understand you perfectly.

The man offers you a hand, lifted on air, tangling your fingers with his and coming closer till your chests meet. He kisses you, pressing your lips so dearly and gently that your legs are about to fail. Traveling your hands to both sides of the man's neck, his reach your low back. Having a deep breathe after some seconds, Marcus rest his forehead against yours, touching your nose with his in a soft caress.

“You know? I was thinking about tellin' Lucia that we're together”. The mexican says looking for your eyes, and noticing somekind of surprise in them.

“Did you?”.

“Yes”. He just say. “With respect and your permission, I'm already like her father”.

“Yea', you are, Marcus”.

“And it's been eight month since we started”. He adds. “What do you think about having dinner together, maybe… drop it to her”.

“Yes, we could”. Your lips are pursed in brief smile, kissing him again as much as you missed him after three days out of Cali.

“Outside?” Marcus gets up from the table, holding one of your hand and leaving a gentle kiss on the back of it.

“Yea', she thought you would be happy, if she draws something for you”.

El Padrino beams at you, walking towards the colorful glass door to cross it. He lets go your hand to continue with his steps outside, where your daughter is waiting for him.

“Are you gonna tell her?” Taza asks you, putting an arm on your shoulders.

“Yep. We think it's time”. You raise your eyes to your father. He looks good with the idea, knowing how much Marcus loves you and respects you.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Salsa music floods the restaurant terrace, full of people, families and children that just meet playing and running around the tables decorated with white and small candles. It's a good temperature outside, and Lucia looks happy sitting in front of you, looking everything surrounding her. Drinking of her lemon soda by the straw whilst dancing her hips on the chair, you look at Marcus. You can't help but feeling terrified. You're nervous, not sure if it's going to end well or if it's going to be a chaos. Your daughter is extremely jealous with the mexican.

“So… corazón, we have to tell you something”. You say finally with trembling voice, even if the man is holding and narrowing your hand under the table.

“Are ya' gonna have a baby?”

You're pretty sure your mouth could touch the floor whilst your heart jumping about give you an attack. Marcus breaks in laughter, but you don't see the funny point on it.

“No, mija, we're not gonna have a baby”.

“Oh”. That sounded like a letdown.

“You would like it…?” You ask confused, leaning on the table, with your free arm supported in.

“Yes! It would be cool!”.

“Yes?” Marcus is confused too, with his gaze in your daughter's.

“Yea', I think I coul' sher' ma' dad”.

Sweet Jesus, you're about to die because of a terrible shame. The mexican is about to drown with his own saliva, coughing for a while.

“But, if it's not a baby, what is, mama?” Lucia turns her attention to you, waiting for another thing.

“Well, ahm… Marcus and I…”

“We're together”. He says, knowing that it's costing you a lot to tell her.

“Ya', I knew it”.

“Did you?” Frowning your eyebrows and licking your lips somewhat more relaxed, you twist your neck.

“Yep, you're too obvious, mama”.

You're sure that your boyfriend can't laugh louder than right now, covering his mouth with a hand because of her words. Lucia laughs too, as you chuckle having a sip of your beer.

“I hear' ya' tell tia Letti ‘fuck, we should get married’. That's why it's my favorite word, 'cuz I would like't too, mama”.

“Jesus Christ…” Your hands covering your face as you nail your elbows on the table, and your cheeks getting red as hell.

“Did you?” Marcus ask with some kind of mirth.

“Canna' go to play?” The innocence in her voice overwhelms you, while she's asking directly to her ‘new dad’.

“Claro, mija, ve. Te avisamos cuando llegue la orden”. (Sure, mija, go. We'll tell you when the food is here).

As soon as Lucia jumps off of her chair, Marcus turns at you without letting go your hand, and by supporting the other arm on the table.

“Did you?” He asks again very interested in your answer.

“Maybe”. You reply with pursed lips trying not to laugh because of the bashfulness.

The man, leaning above you and reaching one of your flushed cheeks, catches your lips between his in a sweet and silky kiss. Slowly, enjoying the peace that has just arrived to your life after having the agreement of your daughter.

“I'll keep it in mind, mi amor”.

[kidney9-9]

Our Garden (Loki)

Hi! I hope you enjoy :)) this is for @ragnarachael​ 800 followers celebration! Please go check out her blog! She is an amazing writer :) This is my first-time writing Loki! The Reader in this has magical powers/can be seen as a Goddess, connected to nature!

Prompt 19: “I care for you. Far too much, I fear.”

Loki x magical/princess!Reader (Implied Smut, Angst, Fluff!)  Warnings: implied smut, somewhat graphic description of nature, small mention of wine, magic Word Count: 3.5k

You coughed, feeling a coldness seep through you as you leaned back into your lover’s hug. Loki squeezed you back, kissing the side of your neck, and murmured his sweet praises of you. You smiled at the sound of his voice, and the vibrations you felt traveling from his chest and throat of his breathing and talking. You always felt so alive with him, in every moment, even though there was an indescribable coldness you felt.

Loki smiled slightly, feeling your fingertips trace little hearts on his back. “My darling, I’m afraid we’ll have to be up in time for the coronation ceremony.” He whispered, making your smile slightly drop. You pulled away from him with a pout. You didn’t even care about the coronation anymore, you just wanted to stay with him, now and forever.  

You shook your head to him, as he reached out again, smoothing your lips into a deeper pout, making him laugh gently. Moments like these made you want to burst into happiness, with the way he smiled at you with no hesitation and the love you could see in his eyes made you only want to return your love even more.

“The coronation won’t happen for a while.” You mumbled back, gazing up to him, as his fingers slipped from your mouth and now onto your neck, lightly rubbing the love marks he made last night. “And why is that?” He countered back, raising one eyebrow back to you.

You shrugged back to him, giggling as he shuffled closer to you in the bed again. “A coronation wouldn’t take place without the Princess.” You replied softly. It was true, ceremonies won’t start unless the whole royal family was there. Your planet was one of traditions and luxury. Any ceremony to take place at the palaces would include you and the rest of your family, including distant cousins.

Loki shook his head in disbelief, chuckling a little. “This coronation is for you to become the official Princess. I’m afraid, what Midgardians call ditching, is out of the situation here.” His voice sounded out. You frowned at the mention of Midgard, finding his observations strange. You shook your head at him, closing your eyes slightly.

“Midgardians have no place here, but what of your plans, Loki? Will you soon tell me why you spend hours studying such a lowly planet?” Your questions could show your distain at the planet. The use of his name made Loki understand your upset tone. You only felt that way because of how your lover disappears for so long, only leaving you vague promises and explanations. He never once told you what this plan was, or even why he had made it. You could almost say you were jealous of a planet. It made no sense in your mind, but when you’d see Loki sneak out of your bed, jealousy would burn into you.

Loki sighed back, while his face softened even more to you. “My dear, my plans are for you, for us. But let’s not dread on something that is not here; you must be up, at least when your handmaiden arrives.” He stressed out his last few words, knowing how much trouble you would be in if he was caught here, under the sheets with you.

Your eyes drifted away from him as you nodded; almost feeling a part of you snap away, just a little. Your gaze reached the garden outside, as you furrowed your eyebrows, watching as dozens of leaves twinkled away, making a light hole appear in your heart, knowing it was from your personal garden. One of Loki’s hands distracted you again, causing your attention to shift over to him.

He smiled lightly at you, tracing your collarbone. “May I?” He murmured, making you tilt your head back to him confused. His smile brightened even more, as his hand slowly traced down your body, making your mouth open slightly, “Yes you may,” You responded, giggling as he raised his eyebrows in excitement.

The coronation was extremely boring, just as you foretold before to Loki, a few weeks ago. Your dress was covered in jewels from vast lands, and the tiara was even more beautiful. The dress made you feel uncomfortable to move in, with the added weight of the gold and diamonds laying on your skin. Each time you moved, you would hear jingles of the jewels touching each other, and glimmering everywhere. The tiara was slipped in what you know to be a gold to have only been touched by your ancestors and your present family. No one was to touch your tiara, but you now.

The celebration was long, you made small talk with many, but your eyes lingered on Loki in the back. He had been watching you the entire time, completely entrapped in awe of your exquisiteness. He sat on one of the seats, ignoring others as usual after paying his honest respects to your family. His brother had shown up as well, already drunk but all the livelier, as he brought the party just some fun. If there was one person here that would out glow you, it was Thor.

You wished Loki would stay here with you. The only other moment the two of you had together after your coronation, was when he had slipped into the bathroom with you. His arms wrapped around you delicately, as you sighed into his hug, feeling relieved. “My Princess, I love you.” Loki chuckled out, feeling amazed that you were now an official Princess. You smiled back, feeling your face heat up slightly at his words.

“I love you too, my Prince.” You mumbled back, savoring the moment. Loki pulled away a second too soon, causing you to pout slightly back to him. He cupped your cheek, as he stepped closer to you with a tender face. You scrunched your nose back to him, feeling confused by his expression, as it turned to something you could only describe as sadness.

His gaze slipped away from you as he started speaking. “I will not be able to see you for quite some time, darling. I’m afraid this will be our last meeting together for a while.” He paused as you started to feel your tears fall down your face, shaking your head back to him.

“I promise you, we will be together at last, when Midgard is ready.”

Those were his parting words to you, as you cried, trying to reach out to him again; but he was already gone. You did not realize this was going to be the last time you held his hands in yours, cold from his temperature, but warm with your love.

Time passed slowly at first, as you tried to understand your Prince’s words. You couldn’t do anything with them, knowing it was Midgard that tore you two apart, but he promised to come back. With his promise, you found time started to flow as it normally did, soon his promise became one of your own, and you promised to yourself you would be okay without him now. You focused your love on your garden now, your true love, placing each living organism into your heart. You cared for the garden, as it was a part of you, one that grew constantly from your admiration and touch.

The vanity set glowed under the sun, as you sat in your personal garden, at your estate. It was an interesting add to your garden, but you realized how long you spent there each day, knowing you needed to do your duties as Princess somehow. You would slip papers into your vanity’s drawers, knowing to work on them later, signing important changes for the kingdom, as you grew more into your role as Princess.

Pink and violet flowers flew gently around you, creating a gentle breeze that felt as if it was caressing the back of your neck. Your lips parted as you lifted the glass to your mouth, sipping the luxurious wine that your lover gifted you, months ago. You closed the drawers, once you were done with your work, smiling softly at your accomplishment. You gazed all around the garden, avoiding the reflection in the vanity, wondering of which plants to grow next. Branches danced delicately and gently on the ground, almost smiling back to you as you leaned down, touching them.

A golden streak of sunlight hit your body, as you stood, spinning around and smiling as you glanced over to the flower following your movements. “Such a beauty.” You whispered, holding out your hand as the flower floated down onto your palm, marking your skin in a gentle kiss. The vibrancy of the flower almost grew instantly, when you smiled even greater than before.

Your eyes found the vanity again, making you lose your smile. Your reflection was one you only felt compelled to think of your lover, remembering the soft kisses he’d place on your cheeks. Affected by your emotions, the flower withered out of your hand and onto the floor. You glanced back down, feeling distraught between the reflection and your flowers. You settled for a smile back to the flower, whispering it a sweet promise, to love it forever.

The vanity lit up again, as you sat back down on the seat, and placed your hands down. Your attention appeared on the mirror, looking through into your eyes as you wondered such fantasies of what ifs. Enchanted by your frown and eyes, the mirror began to fade, as you started to gaze through to the other side. It was almost too dark to see, but a figure moved forward, making you flinch back in the seat, shocked.

You leaned back forward again, as you scrunched your eyes, getting a better look inside. A deep blue fire ignited, as the figure grew closer to you. “My dear…” A voice called out, making you gasp, recalling Loki’s endearing names for you. The figure collapsed on the ground, pushing out an arm to the mirror. You held back, still searching.

“Loki?”

Silence ensured after you summoned his name from your lips. You shuddered when you felt a chilling breeze hit your skin. Behind you, flowers faltered in their flowing movements, some dwindling to the floor in despair, as branches creaked out, at the name. You didn’t take any notice though; instead, your eyes never blinked as the figure’s hand reached the mirror.

Hesitatingly, you inched your hand closer to the mirror, eyeing the figure built up the strength to stand again. As he took his first step, a petal snapped away from one of your precious plants, dropping in anguish at the arrival of your lover.

“My dear, my love for you grows each day as we stay apart. Now, I dread the seconds as they pass, as if they do not care for our passion. Time is against us; a wrecked spell that neither of us can control.” Sorrow and self-pity grew spouted from your stomach, building as Loki stepped forward the glow of the sun from your garden.  

Dozens of flowers cried out in pain, beckoning for your help. Your ears became blocked off to nothing else but your lover’s voice. The dreadful plant grew through your stomach, branching out and in through your ribs as you saw a glimpse of Loki’s face. “Where have you been? Your skin is rotting away, darling, what happened to you?” You wept out, tears rushing down your face, collecting on the ground as the branches around your feet shrieked in agony as the water hit as acid to their skin. Burns spread across the branches, traveling to the center root of the loving tree in the garden, only spreading with every one of your tears dropped.

You didn’t notice anything, as your focus and attention was all on your Prince.

Loki glanced down at himself, not following your words. He shook his head in confusion back to you, as he knew he looked perfectly fine on the outside, “My dear, what…” He trailed off, unable to speak as he saw the chaos of your garden. The luscious plants now shriveling, and the colors fading from its once beautiful vibrancy.

You sobbed out again, pushing your hand up and into the mirror, cupping his face. “I’ve waited for you, and I will continue, darling. But when? When will you come back? And what have you become? I feel…stuck without you, Loki! You promised me forever but left once I was happy. I love you, Loki!” His breath caught in his throat as he glanced back around you in fear and worry. Your use of his name reminded him once again of your feelings of Midgard, and he knew how distraught he made you now.

He lifted his hand anxiously, pushing it through the mirror and trembling as he placed himself on your shoulders. He glimpsed over your shoulder, squeezing it gently, as another wave of terror hit the nature. Beautiful daises ripped themselves out of the poisoned soil, shredding their delicate origins apart. The toxic spread across back to you, fluctuating the garden into a graveyard, something only a Jötunn is capable of. He tore his hand away from you, flinching away from your hold, gasping in horror at himself.

Was this what his powers did? Was this the destiny for the God of Mischief? He couldn’t breathe in as he watched another anguished cry rumbled out of your throat, as you smashed down his gift, the one he gave you for your anniversary. The wine and its glass shattered into millions of pieces, brushing itself into your skin as you stood up, backing away from the mirror.

“I have sat, yearning for you in this chair, constantly waiting!” You yelled out, anger bubbling into your through your feet, from the pain you felt from the shards of glass. The stunning colors that once shone with vibrancy and delight in the flowers, the plants, and the loving tree, now dwindled to its last day. Your blood ran gray, staining into the branches you tripped back on, as you continued to back away from your lover.

Loki tried blinking away his tears, but his terror grew as he watched the world behind you dulled. “My dear! Please, I will come back! I had to leave, for you! Luscious and exotic worlds anticipate your soon rule as Queen, alongside of me. I will conquer them for you, I promise. I will prove my undying love for you, my Queen.” His plead bled through your ears, as the sprout that grew into your ribs started making its way through your heart and up into your eyes. You shook your head back to your lover, scoffing in disgust back to him.

Cries rang all around you, as the last of the color in the loving tree died out. They all beseeched you to tear your gaze away from the mirror, and back to them, but you couldn’t hear them now. The sprout of negativity leeched its way, covering your ears as it started wrapping itself around your head.

Loki cried in terror again, begging you to stop, to get away. You wouldn’t listen to his yells though, as you backed away into the fence of your garden. The sprout of heavy doubt and disgust stared back into his eyes, as Loki apologized and begged you, “I care for you. Far too much, I fear. Please, my dear Queen, don’t turn to this, don’t become a part of my dreaded ancestry’s victims. I love you! I promise you; I will come back!” He reached out one last time, touching the mirror, sending you one last look of despair, and the mirror froze.

It cracked and shattered instantly, tumbling down onto his lap as he breathed in heavily, trying to calm his cries for you. The dark and cold room rumbling once again, as Loki trembled up, wiping off the shards of glass and magic off his body. The planet growing colder than Loki while he turned away from the shell of the mirror.

The tesseract glimmered in the corner of his room, calling his attention, almost taunting him of his loss. Loki staggered over to the tesseract, gripping it harshly into his hands, focusing his agonizing loss into the power, sending out pulses of energy back into the universe. “I promise,” He panted out, coughing as his throat burned back in protest. “I promise I will come back and make you Queen. Midgard will be yours to roam, gardens and forests will forever be inclined to you, my dear.” Loki collapsed onto the floor again, becoming mesmerized with the fantasy of ruling Midgard with you.

“We will get away from our families, my Queen. You and I will finally be together, I promise.” Bringing the tesseract to his mouth, Loki pushed in a soft kiss, forever sealing his fate as the God who Lied, falling for his own deceits.

You shuddered when you finally opened your eyes again, gazing at the destruction. A chocked sob came from your mouth as you brought yourself to the floor, trembling as you pushed a hand to the branches and grass. It was all dead, gone. Your head started to spin, and a ringing noise bombarded your ears, “No, no, come back!” You cried down to your plants. There was no response this time.

You glanced back to the broken mirror on your vanity, shaking your head. The cracked mirror fell apart in that instant, as you looked through it, now seeing the destruction and death your plants had faced. “I’m sorry,” You sobbed out, picking up a daisy, trembling as you set it against your lips. It made no movement as your tears continued to fall.

Months poured away as you threw yourself into your work, feeling even worse as you noticed the downfall of crops across the kingdom. They were all affected by you, that even people started to beg you for mercy, thinking it was their fault. It wasn’t, instead it was the God of Mischief, one that you thought you could trust, but he broke you down.

You wondered every passing moment if that was his intention from the start. The way he kissed you, the way he’d hold your hands, the way he’d sneak in gifts of affection, the way he loved you… Was it all a lie? A game? Perhaps. You started to convince yourself to it, knowing to never trust anyone who lies again.

The turning point for you was when you remembered your promise to yourself. That you would be okay without him, as you were before you even met him. You didn’t try to forget him, but you couldn’t take yourself down to your personal garden again. You started to love yourself more, focusing on the good of your people, watching as the joy spread among them. It slowly drifted to you, after you began to go outside more often, meeting your people.

The first time you saw a sprout of green again was when someone had gifted you their favorite book, claiming it would lift your spirits. It did, the way your people loved you even after the loss of most of the food the kingdom produced. Your family loved you even more now, focusing more on you, teaching you the ways of being Princess, training you to become Queen one day.

Green spread again quickly after that. Happiness built up in you, as you loved nature once more, and you loved yourself once again. Thoughts of Loki were now distant, you no longer wondered much of him. You didn’t stick around for meetings that involved Asgard affairs, knowing it was now just chatter to you.

You finally found yourself in your garden again, with the vanity and broken mirror gone. What once was there, flourished again, even more. Luscious beauty of the trees grew around you, with flowers smiling up to you, sending you even more love than you thought was possible.  As if you were drifting, you felt affection lift you up, as the garden glowed even brighter than ever, glimmering under your love and one of the Suns that circled your planet.

Recently, you would hear slightly rattles of a snake slivering in and out of your garden. Each time you would try to find it, it would disappear, making you laugh. It never disrespected your garden either, causing you to smile each time you would hear it.

Today, you felt the snake near you, as you sat in the grass, softly combing through it with your fingers. You made no move to gaze at it, or hold it, knowing of its shyness with you. Instead, you smiled softly, “What shall we call you?” You wondered aloud, addressing the snake.

It seemed to slither in response, making your smile brighten. You shook your head, wondering as a name popped into your head. Before you could stop yourself, you spoke up, “How does my Prince sound?” A shocked silence hit your ears, as the snake seemed to stop moving as well. You paused to yourself, furrowing your eyebrows at the familiar nickname, and shook your head, knowing it was alright.

“I think it’s perfect for you. Maybe one day, when we finally meet, you’ll be my King.” You paused, giggling to yourself. It was your adieu for the past, knowing you would soon need to marry someone. The snake slithered in agreement, slowly coming closer to you, as you sat in peace.

--

Tags:  @lozzypoz321​ @peepeeparkerr​ 

Extra note: The snake symbolizes Loki, as he returns but he doesn’t want to break your heart again in his other form, knowing it would only lead in the downfall of your kingdom. He lives away in your garden, pretending it to be his Midgard with you, foolishly thinking you would feel the same way. He never fulfilled his promise to you, but just being close to you will be a gift both of you will cherish.

[aliendes]

One More Day

shy!yoongi, brother!namjoon, depressed!reader

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING! heavy angst, mentions of death/suicide, dark themes, mentions of alcohol and drug use, Joon is a straight up asshole I am so sorry (it gets better in the end), reader smokes cigarettes (if that bothers you?), depression/anxiety. This story is in no way meant to romanticize suicide, if you or someone you know is suffering, please call or text 1-800-273-8255.

Word count:  27837 (yikes I am actually sorry) Genre: Angst, fluff NSFW because of suicide mentions?

A/N: Did I write a Christmas story in the middle of July? Yes. Am I sorry? Also, yes. This is entirely unedited and was only meant to be like a 1k drabble. As you can see, it got away from me a little (a lot). I will eventually go back and edit, but I cannot be bothered right now. I’m so sorry for my shitty character development here, I was just trying to get this out of my brain and it just snowballed (hehe) into this monster.  If anyone is interested, I wouldn’t mind doing drabbles about this couple in the future! Send me an ask! This is a work of fiction. Any character names/likenesses are coincidence are are not meant to represent actual people.  **PLEASE READ!: Hi all! This is my first fic that I am posting to this blog. THANK YOU for reading this! If you like this story, I would REALLY appreciate it if you could reblog/comment on the fic. Also! Follow me if you’re interested in my writing. I am currently writing a multi chaptered dystopian AU and will be doing polls on my blog where readers can vote on a couple of aspects of the story. I hope you stick around!

Listened to: Be Kind (Marshmello & Halsey) & Waste It On Me (Steve Aoki & BTS) while writing this. 

You stood on the deck of your parents cabin, staring out at the frozen over lake, shrouded in darkness. You couldn’t remember what time it was, or really even what day it was, just that you needed to get away for awhile. Your breath was turning into white clouds around your face, and then drifting up into the atmosphere. It was calming in a way. Freezing, but calming. 

It was the middle of December, nearly Christmas, what used to be your favorite time of year. You and your mom, dad, and older brother Namjoon would come up to this cabin and spend two weeks at the end of every year. Your dad and brother would always find the tallest tree for the living room of the cabin, with it’s high vaulted ceilings. You and your mom would spend hours decorating the tree, always turning out like a Better Homes & Garden magazine cover. Your mom loved to decorate, and she was damn good at it. You and Namjoon would bake cookies together, despite your mom’s protests over Namjoon being in the kitchen. He was always a disaster waiting to happen. You can still taste the gingerbread like it was yesterday. You smiled slightly, remembering what Christmas used to be like. Now, Christmas was a shitty reminder of what used to be.

It’s been 7 years since the last time you were all together at this cabin. Nearly 6 years since your parents death, and 3 years since you last saw or spoke to your brother. You knew he was doing well, living it up in the big city of Seoul. He was a music producer, and you would hear about him and his accomplishments through friends of friends. You were proud of him. Not that he would ever believe that, and it’s not like you would ever have the chance to tell him.

For the last few years, you had been coming up to the cabin alone. You always took two weeks off work and spent that time trying to keep your parents spirits alive in the form of Christmas cookies and movies. It was your own way of coping with their absence. Namjoon found his ways of coping by blocking the memories out, you found yours in a glass of wine and a couple cigarettes out on this deck. Speaking of which, you should probably light one up now, you’ve been standing here for a while.

Just as you were reaching in your pocket for your lighter, you heard a snapping sound from the left of the desk, startling you in your place, cigarette still hanging from your chapped lips. You turned your head towards the noise, almost giving yourself whiplash. No one should be out here at this time, you thought to yourself. You pocketed your lighter and took the cigarette between your fingers, slowly walking towards the edge of the deck. Sue you, you had a curious mind. Namjoon always used to tell you it would get you killed one day. Not like you cared much anymore. 

“Holy shit!” you gasped, nearly throwing your cigarette, when you saw a figure walk out from between the trees lining your property and the one next to it. It was a man you didn’t recognize. You squint your eyes slightly to try and see better in the dark. He stepped closer to your with both hands raised in front of him as a way to placate you.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I -” he started, but trailed off almost like he forgot what he was going to say. You raised a brow at him, still unsure of the stranger. “I’m Min Yoongi, I live next door. I promise I’m not a creep or anything, I just noticed you standing out here for a while and wanted to make sure you weren’t locked out or something, I - I, yeah that sounded creepy. I’m sorry.” He rushed out the last words, looking almost sheepish. 

Cute.

You stood there for a second too long, and Yoongi, as you now knew him, looked almost like he was about to bolt back in the direction he came. “I - I’m sorry, I’ll g-”

“No, it’s ok.” You let out a deep sigh and chuckled darkly, no humor to be found. “You just startled me, is all.” You said with what you hoped was a small smile. It wasn’t, Yoongi noted, but he didn’t care, just glad you were responding at all.

Another beat passes, “... so are you alright - did you need help?” He drawled, unsure of where the conversation was headed. 

“No, no. This is my par- mine- my house. Well, not my permanent house, but you probably already knew that.” You stuttered. He must’ve realized the house next door to him was vacant 11 months out of the year, right?

 “Ah yeah, I kind of figured that out.” he took a hesitant step forward. When he saw you weren’t running for the hills, he slowly made his way into the illumination provided by the floodlights on the back porch. You took in his features now that you could see them better. He had bleach blonde hair that looked a little fried, but that suited him nicely, small, feline like brown eyes, and he currently wore a gummy smile that was quite endearing. Had you not been in a spiraling depression, you may have thought he was pretty handsome. He ran his hand through his golden locks, “This house is usually empty, I only notice it occupied around this time of year. I’m assuming it’s your vacation house? You said it was your parents place, right?” He took hesitant steps up to the deck.

So he caught that. Damn. “Was.” You stated simply. “It was my parents place. It’s mine now, I come here alone.” Yoongi knew that. He’s lived next door for 8 years now, on and off. Every Christmas for the last few years, you’d been alone. He wasn’t a creeper, but he did notice you smoking those nasty cigarettes out on this very deck, alone, every year. He remembers you used to come here with someone. A boyfriend maybe? It wasn’t his place to ask. 

He’s at the bottom of the steps that lead up to your deck, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. Pity? No, there’s no way he knows what’s going on in your mind. He hesitates a moment before - “Are you ok?” 

The question catches you off guard. Were you ok? You knew the answer was a big, fat no. But was that something you should share with him? A near stranger? Aside from the obvious questions you had, when was the last time someone asked you that? You couldn’t remember anyone caring enough about you in the last few years to even utter those words to you. The only people you interacted with were your coworkers, who didn’t give a shit about your personal life. All your boss cared about was that you got the job done. You almost wanted to trust this man, share with him how you’re feeling, God knows you need it. You’ve been staring at him for too long, he must think you’re crazy now. “Yeah. Yeah I’m good.” You mutter, looking anywhere but his eyes. 

“Look, it’s not really my place to pry, but you’ve been standing out here in the freezing cold for over an hour.” Had it really been that long? “Do you want to maybe go inside?”

“With you?” you asked, slightly startled at his proposition. 

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and you had a distant thought that he looked oddly adorable like that. “No! No, no. I mean unless you want to come to my house?” He half asked, slightly confused, shaking his head. “I just meant, you aren’t really dressed for the 3 degree weather, don’t you think you should head back inside?” 

Oh. He was just being nice. You weren’t used to this. Leave it to you to jump to weird conclusions. You cocked your head to the side, looking at him with a dumb look. “Yeah…” you trailed off. “I was actually just about to smoke a cigarette, then I’ll head inside.” He gave you another unreadable look, and slowly started to nod.

“O- ok then.” He seemed like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself.

“Do you smoke?”

“Oh no, I don’t. Thank you though.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at you, like he didn’t want to offend you.

“I’m not offended, I know most people think it’s a nasty habit.” You took the lighter back out of your front pocket and put the cigarette to your now very cold, very dry lips. “Want to sit with me?” You asked after you took your first drag of the cigarette.

Yoongi looked back towards his house, and then back at you. “Yeah, let me go grab a coat and I’ll be right back.” he stuttered out. You hadn’t even noticed he was only wearing jeans and a flannel. Poor guy, you’ve been staring stupidly at him for at least 15 minutes, he must be freezing by now. 

“Take your time.” You waved him off as he jogged briskly past the trees and shrubs. You watched him enter his back porch and saw a few lights flicker on, then off again. Taking another drag from your cigarette, you looked back out over the lake. Leaning your elbows on the deck railing, you realized you were, in fact, freezing in nothing but a long sleeve t-shirt and pajama pants. You didn’t intend to be out here this long, only meaning to smoke one cigarette and head back inside, only to lose track of time.

“Want to sit down?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of your reverie, slightly startling you. “Sorry - didn’t mean to scare you again” he laughed dryly. He pulled a couple of the deck chairs closer to the railing and sat down. It was then that you noticed he was now wearing a thick winter coat, and in his hands he held another coat, and what looked suspiciously like a blanket. You raised an eyebrow at him, but slowly walked towards the chair, holding your cigarette away from Yoongi, respectful of others' distaste for the smell.

As you sat down in the chair to Yoongi’s right, he dully shook the coat he was holding in your direction with a raised brow. A silent offering. “Thanks.” You muttered lamely, taking the coat from him. It was thick, and smelled citrus-y. Oranges? With maybe a hint of cloves. It smelled manly, wrapping you in his scent when you threw it over your shoulders. 

“No problem” he gruffed out. His deep voice was soothing your cold soul at the moment, a feeling you haven’t had in a long time. “I- I brought a blanket” he hesitates, slowly unfolding the blanket, watching your face to make sure what he was about to do was alright, “is this ok?” he asks as he set the unfolded blanket over yours and his legs. You nod at him, taking another drag from your cigarette. Once the blanket is situated, he grabs one of the legs of your chair and pulls it closer to his, so the blanket drapes all the way over you. You offer him a small smile, and then turn your head to blow the smoke in the other direction. “I don’t mind the smoke, you know. My older brother smokes like a train, I’m used to it.” 

You smirk at him. “Are you implying I smoke like a train?”

“N-no! No, of course not - that’s not, that isn’t” he starts to stutter, shaking his head.

“Relax, Yoongi. I was kidding.” You let out as you exhale your last bit of smoke, putting your cigarette out on the deck floor. You should probably bring an ashtray up here with you next time you visit, which was becoming more and more infrequent as time went on. You used to come up here in the summer with Namjoon, but those days were long gone. 

He ducked his head slightly, the flood light illuminating the side of his face from behind him. He really was beautiful, you noticed. A small, slanted nose, with cute puffy cheeks. They were a little red from being out in the cold, but cute nonetheless.  

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that..” he starts to trail off, realizing he doesn’t know your name.

“YN. Sorry - my name is YN.” 

“YN.” He tries it out on his tongue. He likes the way it sounds. “Pretty.” He noted, face heating after he realized what he said. You smiled at him, the first genuine smile he’s seen all night and he realizes he likes it, and wants to see more of it, preferably in the near future. He gives you a gummy smile in return. “What brings you out here, at -” he quickly pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at the time, “- nearly midnight?”

“Oh you know, just dealing with life.” You glance out into the distance, back at that damned lake. Yoongi must have sensed your distress, because he is quickly switching the subject.

“It’s really pretty out here this time of year.” He states, lamely, looking out at the lake with you. “The lake freezes over in November, makes for some really beautiful scenery.” 

“Yeah… I know. I’ve been coming here with my family since I was 8.” You didn’t take your focus away from the lake as you spoke. 

“What… happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” Yoongi quickly read the expression on your face and added, “You totally don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s ok actually. I haven’t really talked about it in a while.” You chanced a glance at Yoongi, his expression serious, focused completely on you. You were taken aback for a brief moment, wondering what was making you trust this man, before you went on, “My parents died almost 6 years ago. We used to come out here as a family every Christmas for the last two weeks of the year. I still make the trip every year to keep their memory, alive? I guess. That sounds kind of stupid saying it out loud.”

“No it doesn’t,” Yoongi stated simply, “That makes perfect sense. You feel closer to them when you’re here, right?” You slowly nodded, still staring into his deep brown orbs. “Look, at the risk of making myself seem like a peeping Tom, I noticed you used to come here with a man, but I haven’t seen him in a while. Is everything ok with…?” His question trailed off. So he has noticed you before.

“Namjoon,” you said, turning your head away, “my brother.” 

Your brother. He didn’t expect that. From what little glimpses he saw of the two of you, you always seemed like a bickering couple. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” 

“No it’s fine, you’re very observant, you know. How long have you lived there, exactly?” You asked, turning back to look at the sweet man beside you, gesturing towards his home.

“Almost 8 years. Inherited the place from my grandmother. The first few years I was only here on and off, still living mostly in Daegu. Fully moved in about 5 years ago.” His expression changed, looking like he was reminiscing on the past.

“So you must’ve seen me and Namjoon coming together before. He hasn’t come up here with me in three years. We don’t - we’re not really on good terms. He lives a couple hours away.” You left it at that, not really wanting to indulge in the reason why you weren’t on good terms. That was a conversation for another day. Your stomach fluttered at the thought of talking to Yoongi again. You were confused at the feeling for a moment before Yoongi was speaking.

“I get that. Me and my brother barely speak either. I can’t even remember the last time I saw him to be honest.” He gives you a sad smile, which you return. You’re unsure why you feel like you’ve known Yoongi longer than an hour, but he makes you feel warm in the middle of the harsh winter. You noticed his cheeks were becoming increasingly red and cursed yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“Do you, uh, do you want to go inside? I can make hot chocolate, or something…” you trail off dumbly. 

“Uh, y-yeah that sounds nice”, he faltered, grabbing the blanket draped over you, folding it neatly before ascending from his chair. You follow after him, moving towards the back door of your cabin. You didn’t realize just how cold you were until you opened the sliding glass door and a wall of heat hit you in the face. 

“Wow, I must have been out there a while. I’m freezing.” You chirped as you slid the door closed after Yoongi stepped inside the threshold. 

Yoongi pegged you with a questioning look, and at first you thought he must think you’re insane, before he said, “If you want, you can show me where you keep the hot chocolate and you can go take a shower, or something?” he faltered before adding, “I mean, if that’s ok with you, I know you barely know me-”

You cut him off before he could start babbling again, giving him a soft smile. “That would be really nice actually,” you said, leading him to the kitchen. “I’m not sure what all I have stocked up here, but you should find everything you need in the tea cabinet, above the stove,” you pointed to the stove, “and the mugs are in the cabinet next to the fridge. Feel free to make whatever you’d like. I’ll be down the hall, second door on the right if you need me.” You smiled at him again, causing him to internally melt at the sight, “Thank you, Yoongi.” The sincerity in your tone hurt him. He could tell that you haven’t been thankful for anyone or anything in a while and he didn’t like that. 

“Of course,” he croaked, I’d do anything to make you smile, he wanted to add, but didn’t. He just watched you trudge off to what he presumed was the restroom. He mentally slapped himself. Why was he acting like an idiot in front of this girl he hardly knew? He knew it was because he has seen your sad eyes staring out at the lake for the past three days now, and years before that. Watched you stand, emotionless, wondering what was going through your mind. Now that he’s seen what a smile looks like on your face, he never wants it to disappear again. He’s too empathetic, a trait he inherited from his mother, sometimes to a fault. But he didn’t care right now. Right now, he just wanted to make you happy, even if it was just for tonight. 

You let the hot water fall over your face, reveling in the way the steam was making your muscles feel. Even though your body was relaxing, your mind was starting to real. You think it’s December 21st, just a few days before Christmas. You’d arrived at the cabin three days prior, and would remain here for another week and a half. Usually, when you came to the cabin alone, you spent those two weeks wallowing in self pity, drinking yourself to near death. This was the first time you’ve had any interaction at the cabin in three years. Thinking back to three years ago, you recall your lowest moment at the cabin. The reason for the downfall of yours and Namjoon’s relationship.

It was Christmas Eve, and you had just finished off a bottle of your favorite wine. The fireplace was going, and some sappy Lifetime movie was playing in the background. Not that you were paying attention in the least. You and Joon had just fought over staying an extra day. You wanted to stay, spend some time together since you didn’t get to see him often, but he wanted to go back to Seoul to his girlfriend, Yuna. You never really liked her, but that’s beside the point. He was in his room, probably on the phone with her if the soft whispers were anything to go by, while you were on the couch in the living room. You had just poured yourself another glass of wine and were staring out the large bay windows that had a beautiful view of the lake. You used to love that lake when you were a kid. You and Joon would swing on the tire swing attached to the tree that was partially submerged in the lake when your parents would take you up here in the summers. In the winter, you and Joon would walk along the edge of the frozen water, admiring the beauty of it, listening to nature. Namjoon always did love all the little animals he would find down there. But now, as you looked out at the dark abyss of a lake, it only haunted you with memories of your parents.

You had contemplated it before, but was never brave enough to act. At that moment, though, you really didn’t think there was anything left to live for. Everything had fallen apart. Your parents were gone, your brother hated you, and you isolated yourself from all your friends so long ago, you really didn’t have anyone left. All you could think about, as tears streamed down your face, was how Joon wouldn’t care if you were gone. Your parents weren’t there anymore to care. You would be doing him a favor, right? He didn’t want to be around you, so if you weren’t here, he wouldn’t have to worry about your nagging anymore.

Shaking your head, you’re brought back into the present. Were there tears streaming down your face, or was it the water from the shower? The choked up feeling in your throat pointed towards the former. Great. Could Yoongi hear you? You hoped not. God, you hoped not. He seemed like such a sweet guy, kind and soft. You didn’t want to bring him down in your spiral and potentially scare away the only human interaction you’ve had in a while. 

Little did you know, Yoongi did you hear you. He had finished making hot chocolates a few minutes before he heard soft whimpers coming from the hallway. He immediately made his way towards the noise, realising that once he reached the bathroom door, he could hear you quietly sniffling in the shower. His heart sank at the sound. He didn’t knock, knew he shouldn't. But God, did he want to. Wanted to pull you into his arms, tell you that everything was going to be ok, and see that gorgeous smile again. But it wasn’t his place, and he knew that. So he walked back to the kitchen, solemn expression on his face, and waited patiently for you to calm yourself. 

Yoongi was unsure why he felt the need to comfort you. He hardly knew you, apart from what he’s seen of you over the years. Still, those glimpses weren’t really telling of what kind of person you were. You seemed kind, warm-hearted. You let him into your home, or your parent’s home, he guessed, when you saw that he was cold. You trusted him enough to dawdle about in your kitchen while you showered. That had to take some real trust, what if he was some psycho stalker? He wasn’t, of course. But you didn’t know that. 

The trust you put in him told him one of two things - you we’re either a very trusting person, or you had no fear. The latter made him feel sick. He knew you were going through a lot, but it’s been years since your parents death, you should be feeling somewhat better, right? No, he knew that wasn’t true. The pain of losing someone you love never goes away, he knew that better than anyone, and he didn’t even know the circumstances surrounding their death, or the fallout between you and your brother. Either way, when he looked in your eyes, he saw a sad, broken girl. He’s been that sad, broken person before, and he wanted to help you.

So he waited at your kitchen island, rewarming your mug of hot chocolate every five or so minutes, until you finally felt ready to come out of the bathroom. 

As you slowly towel dried your hair, you stared at your reddened eyes in the bathroom mirror. You knew Yoongi was probably waiting in the kitchen for you, with long cold drinks, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of this handsome stranger with your tears. You splashed some cool water on your face and applied some moisturizer to attempt to even out the redness of your face.

After you were satisfied with the puffiness, you threw on your pajama shorts and t-shirt you had brought with you from your room, and left your hair wrapped up in a towel. Who were you trying to impress, really? You barely knew Yoongi, despite the fact that you felt safe around him. You knew at the end of these two weeks you would go your separate ways and probably not speak again until next Christmas, if you even made it to next Christmas. Damn, why couldn’t you keep the morbid thoughts away for one night? 

Hesitantly, you made your way out of the bathroom and down the hallway, where you could hear the clinking of glasses coming from the kitchen. Curious, you sped up a little, until you reached the open floor plan kitchen of your cabin, shooting Yoongi a questioning look.

“Oh! Sorry - I just saw that you have some dishes in the sink, I just wanted to help. Sorry.” He looked sheepish, and you thought it was rather cute. 

“Thanks,” you offered shyly, feeling slightly embarrassed he saw your mess, and sat at one of the barstools in front of the kitchen island, “Did you find the drinks ok?” 

“Oh yeah - they cooled down a bit, so I warmed it up in the microwave.”

You smiled at his thoughtfulness, taking the warm mug from him. Yoongi knew that you had been crying, could see the puffiness in your eyes, but seeing you smile, even slightly, made his eyes light up.He watched as you rose from your seat, mug in hand, and made your way around the kitchen island. For a second, he thought you were going to approach him, but you walked right past him towards the fridge. You reached your short arms up and grabbed at a bottle sitting on top of the refrigerator, pulling it down and setting it on the counter. He watched on curiously as you opened the, almost empty, bottle of rum and poured some into your mug. You turned around, raising an eyebrow at his questioning look, “want some?” 

“Oh, uh, no thank you. It’s really late”, he advised hesitantly. He didn’t want to upset you, didn’t want to overstep bounds as you were an adult after all, but he was also questioning your current state of mind.

“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, if any of this makes you feel uncomfortable, you can leave. I’m trying my best to keep my head above water right now, both figuratively and literally.” You don’t know why you just said that to your neighbor, but you did and there was no taking it back. You removed your gaze from Yoongi’s, slowly walking towards your living room to have a seat on the plush couch. You never got around to redecorating the place after your parents death. It was almost like taking a step back into the past when you came up here. 

Yoongi’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his expression, following behind you, almost forgetting his drink but grabbing it at the last second. “YN, do you want to talk about it? I know we just met, but I want you to know I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Someone to listen, make you hot chocolate, whatever you need.” He gave you a sad smile and sat across from you on the loveseat, setting his mug down on the coffee table. 

You took another sip of your spiked hot chocolate, reveling in the burn at the back of your throat, before following Yoongi and setting it on the coffee table. “Why are you so nice to me? You barely know me,” you questioned him, pinning him with a serious look. 

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping my bounds right now, but I know what it’s like to be depressed,” he looked up from his feet, resting his hands on his knees as he spoke, “I lost my mother when I was 15. I’m not saying by any means that I know what you’re going through, but when I lost my mom I felt like I had no one to talk to. I don’t know you, at least, not yet. But if you give me the chance, I would like to try? We are neighbors after all.” His momentary burst of confidence falters as he plays with his fingers and looks down at the carpet. 

Your gaze softened at the absolute sincerity in his tone. Was this real life? You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you didn’t pass out drunk on the deck and dreamt up some hot stranger to ease your worries. You let out a breathy laugh, absent of any humor. You thought for a second, did you really want to unload this baggage on Yoongi? No, not right now. It’s better to keep things vague, that way there is no one to hurt if you’re gone. “Yoongi,” you started, causing his head to snap up to meet your gaze, teeth worrying his bottom lip, “You seem like a really nice guy,” Yoongi could sense a ‘but’ coming, preparing himself for rejection. It’s not like he isn’t used to it, being the shy guy in a small town he never really had the chance to talk to many people. “But I can’t promise you that I’ll even be around in a week. I don’t want to get attached to someone, it’ll just be harder in the end.”

That was not what Yoongi was expecting. His heart dropped down to his toes. He felt his stomach flip. Did you really just imply what he thinks you did? It didn’t matter if he barely knew you, you needed to know that someone cared for you. But he knew he needed to tread lightly here. He slowly got up from his spot on the loveseat and made his way over to you, crouching down so he could meet your downcast eyes. His hands were clasped together, but the moment you lifted your gaze to meet his, he unclasped both hands and held them out to you, wanting you to make the first move, conscious you might still feel uncomfortable with him. Hesitantly, you reached out one hand, which he grasped in both of his much larger ones. His warmth instantly soothing your cold bones.

“YN,” he whispered, barely audible, but you heard him, “I don’t know what your life is like back, wherever you’re from, but you’re here now. I’m here for you, and I would really, really, like to get to know you better. If you can’t promise me a week, can you at least promise me tomorrow?” He didn’t want to scare you away, dreading what might happen if he does. He saw unshed tears glistening in your doe eyes before continuing, “I’ll come over, every day, and we can spend Christmas together. You don’t have to be alone YN.”

The thought of not having to spend Christmas alone was enticing. The last time you spent Christmas with someone and was coherent enough to remember it, was four years ago, when you and Joon came up here. The last time you were up here, before that dreaded Christmas Eve three years ago. You wanted, really wanted, to take Yoongi up on his offer. But you felt like you owed it to him to explain why you were like this. Why you weren’t able to get close to anyone, why you felt like this was a bad idea. You thought, if you tell him what happened, about your demons, maybe it would scare him away and save him any future pain. With that in mind, you spoke, ““That fucking lake. It’s caused me so much pain, and now it’s like a sick metaphor of my life,” it was barely a whisper that left your lips. Yoongi could tell whatever you were about to say was heavy. He waited patiently, holding your sad gaze, silently letting you know he was listening. “They died in that lake. It was raining, my dad didn’t see the deer in front of them on the bridge leading into town. They had come up here for a weekend getaway without me and my brother, which they rarely even did. We found out two days later when they didn’t show up for work.” 

Yoongi instantly remembered exactly what you were talking about. How could he not have put two and two together? About six years ago, he was commuting back and forth from the cabin to Daegu for work. He was on his way up here for the weekend when the roads were blocked off at the bridge, he saw the overturned car in the embankment of the lake. Everyone in this small town talked about the couple who drowned in the lake for years after the accident. He even heard about how their child had tried to drown themselves in the same lake a few years ago…. Oh no. 

“YN.”

“It’s ok Yoongi. I don’t want sympathies, I don’t want anymore ‘I’m sorry”’s. You offered to listen, so I’m getting it all out.” You looked down, becoming hyper focused on your hand clasped in Yoongi’s. “After they died, me and Namjoon would come up here for Christmas, attempting to feel more like a family. It never did, we would just fight when we were up here, nonsensical arguments that drove a wedge between us. We kept trying though, until three years ago.”He remembers that, too. He would always see you and that guy, Namjoon, arguing on the deck, or you crying out by the tree swing. You stopped, unsure if you should continue. You chanced a glance at Yoongi, his dark eyes watching you with - it wasn’t pity - compassion? His gaze made you want to continue, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. “I tried to drown myself three Christmas’ ago. In that damn lake.” 

Yoongi’s made an inaudible gasp, and he hoped beyond hope you didn’t notice. He wasn’t even sure why he was shocked, he connected the dots a few moments ago. He knew it was you. “YN. I - I,” he faltered. 

Not quite meeting his gaze yet, you muttered, “It’s fine Yoongi. Now that lake it like this stupid fucking metaphor for my life. I ebb and flow, just like the waters in that lake throughout the year. I have my ups and downs. Then, every Christmas, the lake freezes over. It’s always hard for me to get through this time of year, especially without Joon.” You felt a single tear roll down your already puffy cheeks. You sniffled slightly, rubbing your nose on the sleeve of your shirt with your free arm.

Yoongi stood up from his crouching position slowly, his grip on your hand still tight. He hesitantly took a seat next to you, holding your hand in his lap.  He could tell you were trying to scare him away, make him realise you were too broken to be fixed. He was determined to keep you talking, get all your baggage laid out on the table so he could assure you none of it mattered to him. “YN, what happened with Joon?” He whispered, close to your face. He didn’t want to risk you building that wall back up, even if he didn’t exactly want to hear the answer.

“He found me in the lake. Freezing, nearly dead.” Tears were rolling down your face now, and you felt Yoongi’s soft fingers rubbing soothing circles on your wrist. You looked up, gaze focused on the wall behind Yoongi. “Brought me to the hospital, checked me in, and left. I didn’t hear from him for a few months after that. When I finally did he texted me and told me that he didn’t think he could handle my ‘destructive behavior’, and offered to pay for my treatment”, you murmured that last part, voice faltering as you sucked in a shaky breath. “I haven’t seen him since that night, Yoongi.” At this, you finally looked into Yoongi’s eyes, your own crinkled in pain, tears freely falling down your face, and Yoongi’s heart broke. No. It shattered into a million tiny pieces. He barely knew you, but he wanted to do everything in his power to make you feel loved, wanted to show you that someone cared about you. You weren’t going to scare him away with your demons. 

Yoongi scooted a little closer to you on the couch, releasing your hand in the process, and gathered your shrunken form into his arms and hugged you close. A beat passed before you hugged back, uncertain if you should. But his warmth had you melting into him, you chest heaving with pitiful sobs. The hug was a little awkward, with you both sitting on the couch, so Yoongi brought his leg up and slotted it behind you, moving even closer to you. Yoongi’s ambiguous nature long gone as he rubbed a large hand up and down your back, pushing his face into your hair, shushing you. You sat there, in his embrace, for what felt like hours, but was realistically probably only 5 minutes. When your sobs started to slow down, Yoongi pulled back slightly, arms still wrapped firmly around you, looking you in the eye, “YN-” he started, but you cut him off before he could finish. 

With a small sniffle and watery eyes, you whispered, “I’m broken Yoongi. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t want to be here. I only cause others pain.”

He seemed confused by your statement at first. His dark eyes searching your own for a second before he whispered, “I see you here, year after year. I can tell YN, I can see it. You’re broken by what happened, but you are not a broken person. You’re so beautiful honey, and from what I’ve seen of you tonight, you’re kind and worthy. Worthy of love, worthy of life, and worthy of happiness.” Your eyes started to well up with tears again and Yoongi gave you a sad smile, thumb reaching up and caressing your cheek to wipe them away. “I didn’t come up to your deck tonight because I thought you locked yourself out of your house. I came over because I’ve seen the torment in your eyes, and I’ve been there before. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through this alone. I wanted to be here for you, regardless of how well I know you. Maybe I can get to know you in the process, b-but I want you to be ok, YN.” He softly whispered the last part softly, dark eyes starting to well with his own unshed tears.

“You barely know me Yoongi. Your words are sweet, but I’m not worthy. I’ve been drowning myself in liquor, killing myself with cigarettes, and pushing everyone in my life away for the last seven years. I’m a shit human.” You look down, hand reaching up to gently grasp Yoongi’s wrist, slowly pulling his hand from your face. The hurt in his eyes was hard to miss. 

“I barely know you, but yet I want to know more. Doesn’t that say something? You think you’re not worthy, but I’m right here, telling you I think you’re interesting, lovable, and funny. I want to get to know you.” He pulled his hand, ever so gently, away from your grasp, placing it on your lower back to pull you against his chest. “You matter YN.”

You let out another quiet sob into Yoongi’s flannel shirt, inhaling his soft citrus-y scent that has been a calming presence to you all night. “Promise me tomorrow, YN. Promise me you’ll stay tomorrow, talk to me, get to know me a little more,” he mumbled into your hair, “all I’m asking for is tomorrow.”

You thought to yourself for a moment. You could do that. You could promise one more day. Even if you had to suffer through it, at least Yoongi would be there with you. Inhaling a shaky breath, you gasped out an, “ok.”

Yoongi smiled to himself, a sad, small smile. He was happy you were going to give yourself a chance, even if it was under the guise of giving him a chance. He was determined to make you see life was worth living.

You woke up with a splitting headache. Was it from the copious amounts of alcohol you consumed yesterday, or from all the crying you did? You didn’t know. All you knew was the sunlight streaming in from your bedroom window was going to be the death of you. You let out a weak groan as you rolled over, pulling the soft duvet cover over your head. You didn’t want to get out of bed, but you knew you needed to get some water, or your headache was only going to get worse.

Throwing the covers off yourself, you slowly sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You grabbed your phone from your bedside table, noting that it was December 22. Three more days until Christmas. As you looked at your phone, you noticed your arms were covered by a thick, wool like fabric. This wasn’t your pajamas, what were you wearing? You stood up and walked over to the floor length mirror on the back of your bedroom door, still littered with stickers from that time you and your friend Mina visited the cabin when you were 14. 

As you gazed at yourself in the mirror, the events of last night came rushing back to you. Yoongi. You were wearing his coat that he so kindly brought over to you last night while you were out on your deck. Yoongi sat with you while you cried into his shirt for an hour after you had spilled your life story to him, letting all your monsters out to play. You could see the remnants of your sobbing on your face, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. After you calmed down a bit, Yoongi wrapped you in his jacket and carried you to your bed, shaky and cold. He laid you down gently, pulling the covers over your sleepy form and whispered, “Tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’re going to get to know each other better” before he left. Too tired to speak, you rolled over and fell asleep. 

Your face heated with embarrassment. A man you hardly knew took care of you last night, carried you to your bed. This wasn’t like you. He hugged you last night! You haven’t had any human contact in nearly three years. The last person you hugged was your therapist at the rehab facility, and even that was awkward and a little forced. At the thought of him hugging you, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, remembering how you melted into his warm chest last night. You didn’t realize just how touch starved you’d become in the last few years, but the evidence was right there. Shaking off your humiliation, you shrugged off Yoongi’s jacket and rummaged through your suitcase for some clothes. Surely, you’d feel better after a shower and some breakfast. Right?

After rinsing the previous night from your skin, you dressed in some sweats and a t-shirt, not really bothering to do your hair. You didn’t plan on leaving the cabin today, at most you would sit out on the deck again. Heading back into your room, you hear a soft knock coming from your living room. At first you thought you were hearing things, until another knock, slightly louder, sounded through the cabin. 

As you made your way down the hallway and into the living room, you saw a smiling Yoongi through the sliding glass door standing on your back deck. His arms were full, with… what did he have? Bags? You rushed forward past the couches and unlocked and slid the door open.

“Good morning - er, I guess afternoon now?” Yoongi stuttered a little awkwardly, albeit friendly. He stumbled through your back door and made his way over to the kitchen island. You watched his back as he set down a couple of bags and a blanket on the marble countertop. You tilted your head at him as he turned around to face you. “I, um, I thought we could spend the day together if - if that’s ok with you?” he lilted his words at the end. 

You remember the promise you made to Yoongi last night as you stared at him, mouth agape. One more day. You promised him today. You were slightly surprised that Yoongi made good on his promise, half expecting him to bolt last night and never speak to you again after everything you unloaded on him, yet here he was, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“What’s in the bags?” You questioned as you moved towards the kitchen, blinking dumbly at Yoongi. 

“Well, I noticed last night that you didn’t have much food in your fridge, mostly just liquor and soda,” your cheeks heated as he called you on your bad habits, “so I brought over some groceries. I thought we could make lunch and since it’s a little too cold outside, we could set up a picnic in the living room.” he offered, gesturing to the blanket sitting on your countertop. “If that’s ok with you, of course.” He sounded a little abashed, having not gotten your number last night, he wasn’t able to see if you were ok with all of this beforehand. He was taking a leap of faith here, hoping that you would take him up on his offer.

You smiled shyly at him, “that sounds really nice, Yoongi, thank you.” Not having a drop of alcohol in your system was making your normal, shy self emerge from the mask you usually wear, shrouded behind a layer of liquor. 

Yoongi offered you a gummy smile, showing off his perfect teeth. His smile was warm, inviting, much like his scent. You were slowly realizing that you quite enjoyed his company. Maybe a little more than you should have.

You and Yoongi had spent the afternoon cooking and chatting in your kitchen, making a stew from a recipe Yoongi had in one of his grandmother’s old cookbooks. You discovered that he was a natural in the kitchen, moving through the recipes with ease. He told you stories about how he used to come out here to visit his grandma and she would always cook with him in the very cabin he lived in now. He told you how he inherited it from her 8 years ago when she passed away, and how he quit his office job in Daegu to move out here and become a freelance writer. You admired his bravery, being able to leave his life behind and take a risk moving out here. Part of you wished you were able to take that jump, you truly loved this cabin, and most of the memories that came with it. 

Now, you and Yoongi were sitting on his blanket, in front of your fireplace, eating the stew the two of you made together. “So where are you from, YN?” Yoongi asked as he finished off his bowl, setting it down on the hardwood floor. 

“Busan,” you stated simply. “I still live there. I usually only make the trip out here for Christmas now. I used to come up during the summers, too, but haven’t in a while.”

“And what do you do, in Busan?” he asked, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows, full focus on you.

“I work at an animal shelter. Nothing fancy. I tend to prefer the company of animals, rather than humans,” you offered somewhat abashedly. You were telling the truth. You had always wanted to become a veterinarian, ever since you could talk, really. But you just didn’t have the time, or the money to go to school, so you found the next best option.

“I definitely get that,” Yoongi agreed, “I have a calico cat at home. It gets lonely up here sometimes, and he helps keep me sane.” He smiled thinking about the furball he adopted a couple years ago, probably resting peacefully in his favorite sunbathing spot back at home. 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of a cat and Yoongi filed that away for later. “Really? What’s his name?”

Yoongi was more than happy to indulge in your sudden curiosity, happy he found something you’re actually interested in. “Mochi. He’s a male calico, I hear they’re pretty rare. I found him at the local shelter in town a couple years back. He’s a sweet little thing.”

Your conversation continued throughout the afternoon much the same. You told Yoongi about your dreams to become a vet that would probably never come to fruition, and in turn he told you about his previous job in Daegu as a marketing analyst. You shared with each other your big (and small) dreams and aspirations, discussed TV shows you both liked, and talked about different recipes you enjoy. 

You were actually enjoying yourself and spending time with Yoongi, something you really didn’t expect to happen when you were on the drive up here a few days ago. You haven’t really had a friend to talk to for a long time, your only close friend Mina having moved to the United States five years ago, you never really made the effort to make any new ones. Yoongi was nice, you thought to yourself as he talked more about his cat, you wouldn’t mind being friends with him. 

By dinner time you were both starting to get hungry again, so you suggested ordering take out while you both cleaned up the mess in the kitchen from earlier.  You called the chicken place you knew of in town, while Yoongi started loading the dishwasher. “Hey YN?” you heard from the kitchen.

“Yes?” You half shouted back, walking down the hallway towards Yoongi. 

“Where are your dish- oh nevermind, found them!” He shouted back as you walked into the kitchen. He stood up straight after shutting the dishwasher, sighing and wiping his hands down the front of his jeans. “Dishes are done, food is ordered. What do you say we watch some Christmas movies?” 

For the rest of the night, you and Yoongi sat in front of the TV, watching sappy Lifetime movies, eating chicken and drinking beer. It was probably the most fun you’ve had in quite a few years, and you were really thankful for his company. At the end of the night, you and Yoongi exchanged phone numbers with a promise that you would give Yoongi one more day, at least, to get to know you better. You agreed, and Yoongi left with one final gummy smile and wave of his hand. 

You sighed, rubbing your hand down the front of your face. Having Yoongi here was a great distraction, but now that he’s gone and you can hear the faint sound of Christmas music playing on the credits of some crappy movie, reality was starting to sink in. After these two weeks were over, you’d return to Busan, Yoongi-less, and have to resume your normal life again. A life you weren’t satisfied with. A life you knew you didn’t want to continue living. Being here made you feel like that life didn’t exist anymore, like you were almost, happy? But you knew that it would all be over soon and everything would hurt again. You didn’t want to let yourself get wrapped up in Yoongi because only bad things could come of it, but he was making it really, really hard. You could see yourself falling for Yoongi, allowing him to make you happy, but you couldn’t. You had way too much baggage, you would never be the happy go-lucky girl you were in your teens again. You would always live with this depression, with these demons. 

As you changed into your pajamas, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your eyes were sunken in, your skin was pale, and your hair had seen better days. You knew you hadn’t been taking great care of yourself, but you didn’t think it had gotten this bad. What did Yoongi see in you anyways? Your life was a wreck and you looked like it, too. You sighed to yourself, running a brush through your hair. You promised Yoongi one more day, so you were going to make it through tomorrow, at least.

December 23. Two more days until Christmas. You woke up feeling a little lighter this morning after having spent yesterday with Yoongi, but you also had a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve never really been one to believe in superstitions, but for some reason, you had a strong feeling something bad was going to happen soon. You tried to shake off the feeling. You had woken up early this morning, just before sunrise and decided to take a steaming shower.

After your shower, you got dressed in comfy clothes and decided to sit out on the deck and smoke for a bit. It was still early in the morning, the sun still on the horizon. It really was beautiful out here. You had the perfect view of the lake from your deck. It faced towards the east, giving you a gorgeous view of the sunset just above the frozen lake. The colors of the sky were so pretty this time of day, oranges mixing with pretty pinks, you felt like you were on set for a romance movie. 

There was a low fog rolling onto the embankment from the frozen lake. It almost looked like dry ice, white billows of smoke swirling in the slight morning breeze. Admiring the landscape, you took a cigarette out of your pack, and slid your lighter out of your pocket. The sun was just barely starting to pass over the mountains in the east. You shivered a little as you lit up your cigarette, taking a deep inhale of smoke. You instantly felt at ease, the weird feeling from earlier dissipating with the sharp exhale of smoke. 

Yoongi hadn’t gone to sleep yet, and was typing on his laptop, Mochi in his lap, on his sofa. He spent a majority of the day over at your cabin yesterday and spent all night trying to get caught up with work. As a freelance writer, he made his own hours, but he wanted to make sure he was going to meet his next deadline, coming up in a few weeks. 

He gently closed his laptop and stretched his arms up into the air, cracking a few joints in the process. The noise startled Mochi and he shot up out of Yoongi’s lap, across the kitchen floor. “Sorry, buddy,” Yoongi mumbled, sleep thick in his voice. He watched as Mochi slid across the linoleum and jumped up onto the window sill above the sink. Yoongi looked out of the window curiously, eyes catching on a figure. He stood up from his spot on the sofa slowly, making his way towards the window, mindful of Mochi this time.

From his kitchen window, Yoongi had a perfect view of you standing on your deck smoking a cigarette. He watched as you took a deep inhale every couple of minutes and exhaled white swirls of smoke through your nose. The sun was just beginning to rise and the light was catching beautifully on the planes of your face. Yoongi took a moment to admire you, since he hasn’t really had the chance before. You were always intently watching him, waiting for his next move, almost like you were afraid he would leave, never quite giving in to his friendship.

The light shone over your features beautifully, highlighting your sharp cheekbones and sunken in eyes. Yoongi noticed you looked a little thin, he wasn’t sure if that had to do with heredity or something more sinister, but he tried not to dwell on it. Long eyelashes flutter over your cheeks everytime you close your eyes, basking in the sunlight. Your fingers, long and slender, held the cigarette so delicately. You seemed so gentle, so ethereal, he wonders why the world had to be so cruel to you. What did you do to deserve the foul things that have happened to you? Nothing, you didn’t do anything. You were just delt a bad hand at life. 

He watched as your long hair fluttered around your face in the breeze. It looks like you just washed it, he thought, you must be cold in the crisp morning air. With one last exhale of smoke, you put your cigarette out on the railing of your deck. Yoongi smirked to himself when he saw the small pout form on your lips. How could someone be so beautiful, yet so broken? Yoongi wasn’t sure why he felt this strong urge to protect you, to prevent any further harm coming to you, but he knew that he would do everything in his power to make sure you felt cared for. He was drawn to you, in a way he has never been drawn to another person. It both scared and excited him and sent butterflies through his stomach. He took one last glance at you through the window and decided it would be best if he got some rest before trekking back over to your cabin later. 

The rest of your morning went by relatively smoothly, having made breakfast after coming inside from your morning smoke. You cooked yourself some eggs and toast and then decided to check some emails on your laptop you brought with you. You saw a couple of emails from your boss, asking about adoption paperwork that he couldn’t find on your desk. You emailed him back quickly with the forms you had stored in your files, before powering off your computer, done with work for now. You moved the laptop from the top of your thighs to the nightstand next to your bed and leaned back against the headboard. You folded your arms behind your head and glanced around the room, taking in your childhood surroundings. 

The walls of your bedroom were still a pastel pink color with sponged on white clouds reaching up to the ceiling. You had a vivid memory of helping your mom paint the clouds when you were 8 years old. She would laugh at you everytime you would pout because the cloud didn’t come out exactly how you wanted it to. 

Across from your full size bed, was a white dresser with claw feet that still contained some old summer clothes from when you would visit during your breaks from school, probably a few sizes too small now. Along the side of the dresser and the white full length mirror on the back of your door, were stickers from your favorite bands when you were a teenager. You and Mina had collected them throughout the school year and would stick them on when you arrived for the summer. You smiled at the memories this room brought back. This was the reason you kept returning here every year, you tell yourself. To remember the times when you were happy and loved life. 

You let out a deep sigh and sunk back onto your mattress further, eyes feeling droopy. When your head hit the soft pillow, you stared up at the ceiling, still white because your mom said painting the ceiling pink would have made the room feel claustrophobic. There were still little pieces of sticky tape stuck to the stucco from when you had plastered glow in the dark stars and planets all over the ceiling, long since gone now. You never updated anything in the house, bought new furniture, or moved anything around. It would feel wrong, you thought. It wouldn’t feel like home anymore if you made changes. 

You hadn’t even entered the master bedroom, where your parents slept, since they passed. You know that Namjoon has, having gone through some of their belongings in the years since their death, but you never could bring yourself to do it. Joon had also gone through his childhood things in his room, just across the hall from you, taking what he cared for back to Seoul with him. You wondered what was left in there, too tired to actually get up and check. As you reminisced on your cabin, sleep began to take over, and eventually you fell asleep to the slow hum of the heater.

You sat up straight in bed, clutching your shirt, breathing heavy. What was that noise? Ding ding. You let out a breath of relief. It’s just the doorbell. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, briefly glancing at the clock on your side table. 4:03 pm. How long did you sleep?

As you got up to answer the door you caught your reflection in the mirror, straightening your bed head out a little. As you made your way to the front of the house, you heard soft knocking on the door. “Coming, coming!” you yelled out to whoever was on the other side. When you arrived at the front door, you looked out the glass pane next the door, finding Yoongi standing there on your front porch. He was holding a - duffle bag? You squint your eyes in confusion, but open the door anyways. 

“Hi YN!” Yoongi starts, before taking in your appearance. You were wearing what looked to be pajama shorts and an oversized white t-shirt. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” He looked a little sheepish, running his hair through his blonde locks.

“A-ah, yeah, but it’s ok! I really shouldn’t have slept this long anyway,” you trailed off, opening the door a little wider and motioning for Yoongi to come in. “What’s that?” You asked, pointing at the black bag clutched in his hand.

“Oh, well…” he starts, coming all the way through the entryway and toeing his shoes off next to yours, he assumed. “Since the forecast says it’s supposed to snow, I brought some board games and some movies,” he seemed a little unsure, wary that you were going to tell him you didn’t want to hang out, or something. You smiled at him to ease his worries.

“I love board games,” you began, walking off towards your kitchen, Yoongi trailing behind you. “I haven’t really played any in years though,” you falter, “I’m not sure I’ll be any good.”

Yoongi gave you the gentlest smile you’ve seen from a man, making you melt a little more. What was this guy doing to you? “Don’t worry, I’m not the competitive type anyways.” He gave you a little wink, making you giggle. Yoongi’s eyes shot up to yours, a gummy smile spreading across his handsome face. The tinkling sound of your laugh made his inside heat up. He absolutely adored the sound. 

The two of you ended up ordering take out again, Yoongi insisting on paying this time, and sat on your couches with games and snacks spread out on the coffee table. You guys had already played a couple rounds of Scrabble, and one round of Scattergories and now you were leaning back enjoying the pizza Yoongi had ordered. Just like Yoongi had predicted, it started snowing around 6 o’clock and has been for the last hour or so. 

“You’re telling me you lived your whole life never having a pet?!” You laughed, hand covering your mouth still full of pizza.

“Nope. My parents never let me have a pet growing up and when I was old enough to move out I was just too busy to take care of one. A few years ago when I was feeling lonely, I decided to give it a go.”

You couldn’t imagine a life without pets. Growing up your family always had dogs or cats around, one time even adopting a pet hamster. You haven’t had pets in a few years, but you’re around them all the time due to work. 

“I love Mochi, though. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it now.” He smiled fondly, talking about his beloved cat. “What about you, any pets back home?”

“Ah, no. I don’t have the time anymore. But it’s ok because I spend most of my time with them at work.” As much as you hated the people you worked with, you absolutely adored the animals. You didn’t think you could ever work in a profession that didn’t allow you to work with animals, it just wouldn’t make sense to you. 

Yoongi smiled at you, damn that smile was making you seriously weak. “I’d love to introduce you to Mochi while you’re here, if you’d like.” 

“I would love that.”

“Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? It’ll be Christmas Eve, I can cook something for us, and you can hangout with Mochi. I’m sure he’d love the company, I’m usually pretty boring.” He laughed. 

“I -” you hesitated. Why were you hesitating? You really liked Yoongi. You liked him so much that you even forgot about your promise to him about ‘one more day’. You were enjoying the time you spent with him so much that thoughts about your parents, Namjoon, and your demons we’re at the back of your mind when you were with him. You mean, you’ve literally only smoked two cigarettes today, that has to be some sort of record for you. So why were you hesitating?You knew why, you didn’t want Yoongi to get too attached. Who were you kidding, you didn’t want to get too attached. You’d be leaving soon and it would only hurt you more in the long run. Yoongi was staring at you, a hopeful look in his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Yoongi.”

The crestfallen look on Yoongi’s face made you want to immediately take back your words, but he beat you to it. “Can I ask you why you think that?” He was much bolder than when you met a couple of days ago, you noted. 

You wrung your hands together in your lap, having finished your slice of pizza a few minutes ago. “I just don’t want to make this harder than it already is,” you trailed off, eyes fixated on a loose thread on the rug beneath the coffee table, “I have to go back home in a week, and like I told you a couple of days ago, I’m not sure if I even want to live that life anymore.” You whispered the last part, biting on the inside of your cheek. 

Yoongi’s eyes softened. He realized it wasn’t about him, but about you and how you didn’t want to hurt him. He knew you were too kind for your own good. “YN. It’s just dinner. And who says we can’t still be friends when you do go back home?” he added extra emphasis to the word do, making sure to not leave an ‘if’ in that sentence. He’s going to make sure you make it back home in one piece if it’s the last thing he does. 

You knew what Yoongi was trying to do, and you really did appreciate it. You also really enjoyed his company, so you thought, fuck it. “Ok” you whispered out softly, finally meeting Yoongi’s eyes. 

“Ok? Does that mean you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Yes. I’ll have dinner with you. On one condition” you acquiesced, a soft smirk on your face.

Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his blonde fringe. “Anything” he breathed out, a little too quickly for his liking.

“I get to cuddle with your cat all night. I really miss the animals.”

Yoongi tried, and failed, to hide a huge grin. “Deal.”

Last night, after you agreed to have dinner with Yoongi, you played a few more board games, kicking his ass in Monopoly a couple of times, before you said your goodbyes. Yoongi left the board games at your house, reasoning that he would definitely be back over to avenge himself in Monopoly. You giggled at him as you waved goodbye with the promise of dinner.

It was now 1 o’clock in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, and you were starting to panic. Christmas Eve was a hard day for you to get through, considering the memories you have of this day. Not only that, but you still couldn’t shake that odd feeling that you had when you woke up yesterday. However, today is even more panic-inducing because you are about to have dinner with your cute neighbor, who you may or may not have a slight (read: huge) crush on. 

You spent a majority of your morning sulking around your cabin, taking more than a few smoke breaks on the deck, and cleaning the kitchen and living room up in your anxiety driven state. Now, with nothing left to tidy up, you decide to start getting ready for dinner. 

After taking a long, hot shower, you dried and styled your hair, put just enough makeup on to cover your dark bags and sallow skin, and ventured to your room to rummage through your suitcase in order to find something appropriate to wear. You didn’t bring much with you on this trip besides sweatpants and pajamas. It’s not like you would’ve gone anywhere other than the corner store for more cigarettes had you not met Yoongi. You eventually decide on a dark pair of jeans that you luckily decided to throw in your suitcase last minute, and an old band t-shirt. You honestly didn’t have much else, and you were hoping Yoongi understood (he did) you didn’t really plan on seeing anyone these couple of weeks. 

A little after four in the afternoon, your anxiety started to build up even more. You were anxiously awaiting Yoongi’s text to head over to his place, and decided that it was a great time for a smoke. You grabbed Yoongi’s coat that was draped over your vanity chair, your pack of cigarettes, and your lighter, and headed out towards the deck. You had been so wrapped up in making yourself look presentable, that you had mostly forgotten what day it was, and the dread you usually felt about it. It was nice in a way, but now, sitting out here on your deck, staring out at that damned lake, you couldn’t help but remember why it was you started smoking these stupid cigarettes in the first place. 

“YN?” you heard someone call, distant, yet still close? You were confused, you couldn’t open your eyes. Why couldn’t you open your eyes? “YN, can you hear me?” Namjoon? Namjoon! You thought to yourself. Why couldn’t he hear you!?

For a moment, your eyes fluttered open. You saw Namjoon, hovering above you. But there was someone else next to him. They were wearing a uniform. A cop? No. They were wearing latex gloves and holding what looked like an IV bag.  “YN!” You heard Namjoon yell again. You desperately wanted to answer him, but your voice wouldn’t come through. You blinked a few times, before everything faded to black again. That was the last memory you had of your brother. 

Your cell phone dinged in your pocket, startling you back into the present. You looked at the cigarette in your hand, nearly burned to the butt and you haven’t taken a single drag. Quickly, you brought it up to your lips and inhaled before pulling your phone out of Yoongi’s coat. 

From Yoongi [4:33 pm]: dinner will be ready in 20, want to head over?

You glanced over to Yoongi’s house, briefly looking through the only window that had the curtains drawn. You didn’t see any movement. Had he seen you out here smoking again? You looked back at your phone, taking another drag from the cigarette, before typing out your reply. 

From You [4:35 pm]: ya, be right over

You pocketed your phone and put your cigarette out, tossing the butt into the trash can on your way back inside. You locked the sliding glass door before heading to your room to spray some perfume. You didn’t want to go over to Yoongi’s smelling like smoke. Before you left, you grabbed your keys, double checked the doors were locked, and walked the short distance between the two houses. 

Before you knocked, you took in the state of Yoongi’s home. It was quant, smaller than your parent’s cabin, painted white with forest green window sills and roof tiles. You noticed there were planter boxes under his front windows, but no plants to be found. Hung on his front door was a cute Christmas wreath, plain with pretty burgundy poinsettias on it. You smiled to yourself, happy to see some form of Christmas decorations, not having put any of your own out. You’ve really forgotten how much you used to love Christmas. You loved the decorations, the food, the movies, but you’ve really forgotten what it was like to feel that holiday cheer. Having Yoongi in your life, even for these few days, has really helped you see what you’ve been missing out on.

Before you could even lift your hand to knock on the dark green door, it was opening to reveal a giddy looking Yoongi. You took a moment to drink him in, in all his glory. He was wearing some dark jeans, much like you, and a plain black t-shirt. You idly wondered if he didn’t dress up on purpose to spare you the embarrassment of not having nice clothes. His blonde hair, usually a disheveled mess, was combed out and surprisingly shiny, despite what looked like excessive bleaching. The moment he saw that you were wearing his coat, a huge gummy grin took over his face, causing his cat-like eyes to scrunch in happiness. The look on his face made butterflies erupt in your stomach, as you mirrored his grin.

“Hi,” he said shyly, still smiling.

“Hi yourself,” you breathed, “thank you for having me over.”

He waved away your thanks, moving aside and gesturing for you to come in. “Don’t mention it, really. The pleasure is all mine.” You don’t know the weight those words hold, but he means it, you can tell. 

As you walked through the entryway of his home, you pulled off your shoes, setting them on the neatly organized shoe rack next to his front door. Moving through to his living room, you noticed how well organized his entire house was. There was a pristine looking cover over his sofa which also housed a couple of blankets and throw pillows. On his coffee table were a few books and what looked like photo albums. As you took in your surroundings, Yoongi watched you curiously, one eyebrow cocked. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you weren’t expecting him to be so… clean?

“I like to keep things organized, sometimes it can be a bad habit of mine,” he trailed off, looking around his neat space, “dinner is almost done. Do you want something to drink?”

“Yes, please.” You sighed in relief. You were pacified at the thought of having a glass of something to help lessen your nerves. You only knew Yoongi for the past three days, but for some reason, this almost felt like a first date. God, when was the last time you went on a date? It had to have been at least 5 years ago. The thought alone made your anxiety flare up tenfold. 

“I have both white and red wine, soda and different types of tea…” you were still standing awkwardly, hands clasped in front of you looking almost like you were afraid to move further into his house. Yoongi walked up to you, gently taking your hand in his, causing your eyes to snap up, meeting his own. “Hey, it’s ok,” he smiled gently at you, “come on, I’ll get us those drinks.” 

He led you into his kitchen which had his dining room attached, a small four person wooden table sitting near a bay window. It was cozy, you thought, somewhere you would like to retire too. Now, that wasn’t a thought you’d had in a long time. You never wondered about growing old, surprise you even made it this far. 

Yoongi let go of your hand to reach into a cabinet by his sink. “Wine ok?” he asked, sensing the tension in your body. 

“Y-yes. Red, please.” You weren’t sure why you were being so shy and awkward, you’ve spent the last couple of days getting to know Yoongi, pretty well you might add. You think it’s partly to do with what day it is, as Christmas Eve always puts you a little more on edge, and a little more flighty. Yoongi quietly pours two glasses of red wine, passing one to you politely. You murmur a thank you before taking a sip.

Yoongi watched you as you sipped your wine, looking around his kitchen curiously. He could sense your anxiety, it was rolling off of you in waves. He didn’t want this to be awkward, he wanted to make sure you had a good night, and wanted to take your mind off of things for a while. “Want to meet Mochi?” he asked, hopeful it would shift your mood a little. 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the cat, and were quickly nodding your head. Yoongi walked away down the hallway, returning moments later with a petite framed calico cat in his arms. You internally chuckled at the resemblance they shared in their small statures. “He’s a little shy, but if you give him some time, he’ll warm up to you” Yoongi smiled at you, leading you over to his couch, sitting down with Mochi in his lap. Slowly, you sat down, not wanting to scare the creature, and sat your wine glass on a wooden coaster on the coffee table. 

Immediately upon sitting, Mochi hopped off Yoongi’s lap and right into yours. You let out a small, shocked gasp as the cat started kneading into your thighs, making himself comfortable. Yoongi’s eyes widened as they met you. “H-he never does that. It usually takes him a while to warm up to people. In fact, the first time my friend Jungkook came over, he nearly lost an eye to him.” He chuckled lowly at the memory. 

“Animals usually like me,” you said softly, bringing your hand up to run through Mochi’s fur. It was long, and extremely fluffy, “I think they know how much I adore them.” Yoongi watched on as you smiled down at his now purring cat in your lap. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to adopt another cat with you, or maybe even a dog, before lightly shaking his head and rising from the couch. 

“I’m gonna check on dinner, it should be done soon. You’ll probably be… occupied, until then.” Yoongi gave you a soft smile, which you returned, before walking off into the kitchen. You leaned back into the soft fabric of the couch, absentmindedly running your hand over Mochi. 

You could hear the clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen as you loved on Mochi. Whatever Yoongi was cooking smelled absolutely delicious and was making your mouth water. You had only eaten breakfast today, and were on the verge of starving. On top of that, you haven’t had a Christmas meal in ages. You were actually starting to get excited about having dinner with Yoongi, and you had this purring love bug in your lap, and your glass of wine, to thank. 

“It’s ready!” Yoongi called from the kitchen, scaring the sleeping cat, causing him to jump up and run off towards the kitchen. “Oh you scaredy cat” Yoongi grumbled as Mochi slid past him on the floor. You chuckled as you got up from the couch and headed towards the dining table. Upon seeing what Yoongi had laid out on the table, your eyes widened and you let out a breathy gasp. 

“You made all this?!” You questioned incredulously. 

“U-uh, yeah? I told you, I used to cook with my grandma. We always made Christmas dinners together,” he ran his hand through his, now messy, locks, “I still try and cook as much as I can, I actually enjoy it.” He looked away, blush rising to his cheeks.

You looked at all the different assortments of food Yoongi had prepared. There was a large skillet that contained beef bulgogi, and smaller dishes that housed kimchi, steamed eggs, japchae, and steamed rice. “It looks amazing, Yoongi!” You exclaimed, a genuine smile on your face. 

“Well let’s not stare at it all night. Let’s eat!”

You and Yoongi ate your meal, laughing at each other’s odd Christmas stories. You both had another glass of wine, feeling looser as the night went on. Mochi sat close to his owner, tail flicking idly, waiting for scraps of food to be accidentally flung from chopsticks during conversation. According to Yoongi, the cat loved eggs, a trait he found both odd and endearing. You were so enthralled in conversation with Yoongi, you barely registered that the food was nearly gone, two glasses of wine downed, and it was nearing midnight. Sparing a glance at the oven clock, you realized just how late it was getting.  “Do you mind,” you started, before hesitating, unsure if you wanted to ask. 

“What is it, YN?” Yoongi encouraged you. He was so kind, always observant, sensing when you needed a little push.

“Would you mind if I went out back to smoke?” You looked away, rubbing your hand up and down your arm, embarrassed that you were about to bring your conversation to and end just because you needed to smoke. Nasty habit, you knew you should quit, but it was hard.

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I didn’t realize it was getting so late,” he started, getting up from his seat and grabbing dishes, “want me to join you? I can deal with the mess later.”

You grabbed your own plate, following him to the sink and setting it down gently. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.” You smile at Yoongi, happy for the company.

Yoongi didn’t have a deck like you, but he had a nice yard with tall, green grass. Right off his dining room was a sliding glass door that led to a small concrete patio that was furnished with a couple patio chairs and a fire pit. His land went straight back, down to the lake, just like yours. The only thing separating your properties was a line of shrubs and trees. Yoongi was busying himself with the fire pit as you sat in one of the chairs. You opened your pack of cigarettes, noticing you only had one left, mentally nothing you’d had to run down to the store to grab more. 

As you lit your cigarette, Yoongi was lighting a small fire with the firewood he kept by the backdoor. It was a small one, but it was enough to keep you warm in the freezing weather. Instead of sitting down in the chair across from you, like you expected him to, Yoongi stood in front of you and held his hand out. For a moment, you were confused, until you realized he wanted you to take his outstretched hand. You complied, placing your free hand in his, turning your head to blow out your previous inhale of smoke. 

Yoongi gave you a gentle tug, indicating he wanted you to stand up. As you stood, Yoongi maneuvered himself behind you, so you were standing directly in front of the fire, as he shakily wrapped his arms around your middle. The feeling of his hands on your waist was doing things to you in your alcohol hazed state. 

“Is this ok?” he asked quietly, lips close to your ear and he set his chin on your shoulder. You nodded slightly, feeling almost dizzy from whatever this feeling was that Yoongi was causing. You could feel his warm breath on your neck as you took another drag from your cigarette. 

“Does the smoke not bother you?” you asked, a little forced, holding the smoke in your lungs. 

“I just want to be close to you,” he whispers, “YN, I like you.” 

You giggled at his comment, releasing the smoke from your chest. “I like you too, Yoongi.”

“No, YN, I mean I really, really like you.”

To say you were surprised by his sudden confession would be an understatement. You took a sharp inhale of breath, nearly choking on the cold air, and not because of your cigarette, before Yoongi began again, “I’m sorry if it’s sudden, or if it’s not what you want to hear right now, but I really need you to know that I enjoy spending time with you, and would love the opportunity to get to know you better, if you’ll allow me.” You tossed the butt of your cigarette into the fire pit and hesitantly turned around in Yoongi’s arms. 

Your arms snaked around his shoulder, criss-crossing behind his neck. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew the things that go on in my head.” The wine was making you bold, making you want to tell Yoongi exactly how you felt. “I’m afraid if you get to know me, you wont like what you find.”

Yoongi sighed, looking deep into your eyes that have long since lost their sparkle. “I can’t promise you much, YN. I’m a freelance writer who lives in the middle of nowhere. But what I can promise you, is that whatever I find in you, wont send me running. I know what I’ve already found in you - you’re a sweet, compassionate girl, who in just three days has me falling head over heels,” he breathed, inches away from your face, “I’ve never met anyone like you, YN.” Yoongi brought his hand from your waist up to your face, ever so gently gracing the back of his fingers against your sharp cheekbone. 

You leaned into his touch, not remembering what it was like to be cared for in such a gentle manner. “Yoongi, I-” you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. You wanted so badly to give in to his sweet words, to let him in and break down your walls for him. You were scared, terrified even, of what that meant. He would learn all about your dark past, your demons, the monsters that threatened to take you down. A silent tear trailed down your cheek because of your internal battle. 

Yoongi was quick to swipe it away with his thumb. “You don’t have to say anything back, YN,” his voice barely a whisper, like if he spoke too loud you’d blow away in the cold breeze, “Just promise me one thing?” You made a sound of confirmation, “One more day.”

At that, you broke down in Yoongi’s strong arms. Your face pushed into his firm chest, tears flowing freely. Sobs wracked your chest and Yoongi held you, rubbing a hand up and down your back. You weren’t sure, but you think you feel Yoongi’s chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made it seem like he was crying with you. You didn’t want to chance a look at him, worried it would break you further. You stood there for what felt like an eternity before you calmed enough to pull back from Yoongi, hands unclasping from behind his back and coming around to fist in his shirt. “Thank you, Yoongi. Thank you.” You let out a couple more weak sobs, before hugging him as tightly as you could. You didn’t need to explain, Yoongi understood.

You and Yoongi stayed wrapped up in each other's arms for the better part of the night, having moved inside to the couch, before you were getting too tired to keep your eyes open. Yoongi was laying against the back of the couch, you slotted in front of him with his arms around your chest, holding you tightly to him. You let out a small yawn, making Yoongi smile to himself. “Tired, love?” 

You let out another yawn, bringing your hand up to rub your eyes. “Yeah,” you sighed, “I should probably get going.” You really didn’t want to leave, but you knew you should. You would feel a lot better in the morning if you slept in your own bed, not on this too small couch. 

“I’ll walk you home,” Yoongi offered, standing up from the couch, pulling you with him. You moved to take off his coat before he stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” He smiled down at you, running his hand from your shoulder, down your arm, taking your hand in his. 

You smiled up at the slightly taller man, blushing profusely. You followed Yoongi through his home, toeing on your shoes at the front door, hands still intertwined. As promised, Yoongi walked you to your front porch, waiting until you had entered your house and locked the door before walking back to his own home. Once inside, you leaned your back against the door, head tilting until it hit the glass window pane in the middle of it. You sighed to yourself, feeling lighter than you have in probably years. You weren’t used to this feeling, and on Christmas Eve of all days. Well… You guessed it was probably Christmas now, with how long you spent laying on Yoongi’s couch. With that thought in mind, you pulled your phone out from Yoongi’s coat pocket to check the time. Before you could even register the time, you were stopping in your tracks as what greeted you on your phone screen. When was the last time you checked your phone? You’d been so wrapped up in Yoongi you don’t recall looking at it all night.

On your lock screen, you saw a missed call. Several, actually. From Namjoon. 

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Why was he calling you? You haven’t spoken to him in nearly three years. There was no reason for him to be calling you, unless there was some kind of emergency, right? Panicking, you walked further into the cabin, not bothering to take off the coat or your shoes. You sped walked right into your bedroom, eyes glued to your phone the entire time. Should you call him back? You weren’t sure if you wanted to speak to him right now, especially after the wonderful night you had with Yoongi. But - what if he was calling to apologize, to make things right? You had to find out.

As you unlocked your phone, you saw the notification for a new voicemail. Hesitantly, you opened your calls app, and clicked on the message from Namjoon. You saw it was only about a minute long. Curiosity getting the best of you, you played the message:

“Y-YN? YN! W-what are you doing baby sister?” you could tell he was drunk from the way he was slurring his words, panic immediately rising in your chest. “Are you at mom and dad’s cabin? Yo-you always did love it there, didn’t you? Loved it so much you even tried ending your own life there!” A sharp laugh came from the phone, causing you to pull it away from your ear for a second. “You know YN, I wish you- you did. I wish I never pulled you out of th-that fucking lake. Then m-maybe I wouldn’t have to relive that God damn nigh-nightmare every fucking n-night YN,” you didn’t want to listen anymore to this anymore, you shut your eyes tight,hot tears welling up behind your eyelids, “G-go be with mom and dad, it’s what you want right?! I just-” the line cut off, ending the voicemail. You stumbled backwards, back hitting your bedroom door. You couldn’t see, lights still off, not having bothered with them when you burst in the room. Stunned, you still had the phone to your ear, other hand coming up to push at your eyes, willing the tears to stop forming. You slid down the back of your bedroom door, finally letting go of your phone, causing it to clatter down to the wood floor. Your breathing was ragged, eyes still glued shut in pain. Panic. You were panicking. You haven’t had a panic attack in a couple of years, but you knew the signs. You hugged your knees to your chest and fell over on your side, sobbing into your forearms. 

Is that how Namjoon, your own brother, really felt all these years? He wished he never saved your life? It shouldn’t be surprising to you, the last memory you have of him is in the back of an ambulance, grief written all over his face. That was the last time you saw him, until he texted you months later after countless missed calls, texts, and emails from you. He told you that you needed help, and that he needed to distance himself from you. Did your actions take such a huge toll on his life, that he wished you were no longer on this planet? 

You aren’t sure how long you laid on your bedroom floor, sobbing, but it must have been hours. By the time you finally pulled yourself up, you could see the beginnings of morning shining through your window. 

You needed to smoke, or drink heavily, or do something to ease this pain. You remembered briefly that you were out of cigarettes, not willing to drive yourself to the store to buy more. Drinking seemed like it would only worsen your pain right now, so you pulled yourself over to your suitcase, tossing it open on your bed. After a few moments of rifling through your things, you found what you were looking for, before heading off into your bathroom.

It was Christmas day. Yoongi hasn’t been excited for Christmas since he was a teenager, and his mother was still around to make the holidays special. He hasn’t done much for Christmas since he moved out here. Every once in a while, Jungkook would invite him over for Christmas dinner with his wife a couple towns over, but she was pregnant this year and Yoongi didn’t want to intrude. 

Yoongi was actually excited for Christmas today. Sure, he didn’t have a tree, or presents to give, but he had someone to spend it with. Someone special, which was saying a lot for a recluse like him. 

It was early, an ungodly hour according to Yoongi on a normal day, but today was different. As he got out of bed, he startled Mochi who shot across the floor, out his bedroom door. He smiled to himself and shook his head lightly. Such a scaredy cat, he thought to himself. Yoongi planned on making some Christmas cookies, or maybe a rice cake for today, before heading over to your house to spend the day with you. After his late night confession yesterday, Yoongi was feeling bolder than ever when it came to you, and decided to shoot you a quick text to let you know he was thinking about you.

To YN [7:37 am]: good morning, love

To YN [7:37 am]: I hope it’s ok if I come over in a bit

To YN [7:38 am]: I want to let you sleep in a little longer, but I can’t wait to see you

He pocketed his phone, satisfied with his texts, for now. He assumed you were still sleeping since you were at his last night until well after midnight. 

As the morning went on, Yoongi whipped up a traditional rice cake with fruits, another recipe from his grandmother’s cookbook, something she always made for his family at Christmas. By the time he was done with the cake, it was nearing nine in the morning, and he was starting to worry slightly that you haven't texted him back. He usually saw you out on your deck having a morning smoke by now, and he had definitely been sneaking glances out his kitchen window to try and catch a glimpse of you. He didn’t see you all morning, which was causing a slight panic to arise in his chest. 

By 9:15, Yoongi couldn’t contain his panic anymore. Something was wrong. He could feel it. You should be awake by now. You always came out for a cigarette by now. Pulling on a coat, Yoongi put on his slippers, rice cake long forgotten, as he trudged over to your front door.

He knocked gently at first, not wanting to startle you if you indeed were just sleeping in. No response. This time, Yoongi wrapped on the door a little harder, making enough noise to wake you up without a doubt. He waited a couple of minutes before the feeling in his chest dropped to his stomach. He felt sick. This isn’t right. 

Yoongi walked around the front of your house to peer into your bedroom window. He vaguely remembered the location of it from when he carried you in there the first night you met. He put his hands up to the glass and attached his face to his fingers, looking into your room. He didn’t see you, but what he did see worried him even more. Your bedroom door was wide open and your suitcase was open on your bed. He glanced at the driveway to confirm your car was indeed still there before he ran around to your back deck. Yoongi was in full panic mode now, seconds away from breaking a window. When he got to your sliding glass door, he attempted to open it, and to his surprise it slid right open. He would have to give you a lecture about locking your doors after he made sure you were ok.

“YN?” he called out, slightly louder than he meant, “YN? Love? Are you in here?” Yoongi walked through your living room hesitantly, almost scared of what he might find. He didn’t see any sign of you, so he trudged down the hallway leading to your bedroom. “YN!?” His voice was starting to become panicked the longer he couldn’t find you. “YN please,” he sighed out, realizing wherever you were you probably weren’t hearing him. He peeked into your room one more time to make sure you really weren’t in there. He didn’t find you, but what he did find was your cellphone, laying on the floor with a cracked screen. Yoongi tilted his head as he knelt down to pick the phone up. It lit up with the movement, showing him the missed texts from himself, and missed calls from… Namjoon? Oh no. “No. No, no, no” Yoongi whispered to himself. This couldn't be good. He pocketed your phone, making his way further down the hallway. He saw light coming from underneath one of the closed doors and immediately started banging on it. “YN!? YN are you in there? Please love, open the door!” Yoongi tried turning the door handle, unsurprised when he found it locked. “YN I will break this door down!” He threatened, terrified beyond belief at what he would find when he did.

With one sharp inhale of air, Yoongi grabbed onto the door handle and shoved his shoulder into the door. Once, twice, and on the third hit it popped open, breaking the doorframe in the process. Yoongi ignored the stinging pain in his shoulder as soon as he saw your prone form on the bathroom floor, empty pill bottle in the sink. The air left Yoongi’s lungs as he knelt down next to your head, gently cradling your head in his hands, setting it in his lap. “YN?! No, no! YN!” He was frantically trying to get his phone out of his pocket and unlocked. “YN, honey, please. Please wake up, please. YN you promised. You promised me YN!” his cries were frantic, tears streaming down his face, “You promised me! Please YN!” he begged you to wake up, to be alive, terrified he would never see your eyes light up or your beautiful smile again. Hot tears streamed onto his phone as he dialed for emergency services.

Yoongi sat in the waiting area of the emergency room, speaking quietly into the phone, fingers playing with a frayed edge of this t-shirt. “I don’t know, Jungkook, they won't tell me anything.” He hadn’t stopped crying since he found you on your bathroom floor, now just letting silent tears roll down his cheeks.

“You’re telling me, you met some girl four days ago, have been spending all your time with her, and you find her, half alive on her bathroom floor? What kind of mess are you getting yourself into Yoongi? You’ve never been the type to take an interest in girls, much less ones you barely know!” Jungkook half-yelled through the phone. Yoongi understood why Jungkook was worried, he really did, but he was just looking for some kind of anchor right now to keep him grounded.

“JK, please,” Yoongi barely whimpered into the phone, lip trembling, “I l- I don’t want to lose her.” He wasn’t ready to say the words yet, not when he wasn’t sure if you were even going to make it. 

Jungkook heaved a heavy sigh, obviously frustrated with the situation. “I’m really sorry man. I wish I could tell you she was going to be alright, she’s - what was her name again?”

“YN.” 

“Right, YN. From what you’ve told me, it seems like you got to her before it was too late, right? I’m sure everything will be fine. You said they’re pumping her stomach now, I’m sure it won't be much longer before you have more answers,” Jungkook sounded like he wanted to add on to that, but thought better of it, “Do you need me to come by? Eunha is at her parents house right now, I hung back to talk to you, I don’t mind-”

“Jungkook, no. It’s fucking Christmas. I’m sorry for taking you away-” he sniffled harder, “away from your family.” The dam is broken now, Yoongi was unable to stop the tears from flowing, sobs wracking his small frame. 

Jungkook’s heart broke at the sound of his oldest friend’s tears. He didn’t mind leaving his wife for a few hours, he knew she was safe with her parents, probably about to start working on dinner for tonight. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, man. Hang in there.”

Yoongi let out a shaky sigh, looking down at his now black phone screen. He felt like he was underwater, like his heart was beating in his ears. He could vaguely hear the chatter of the nurses and people in the waiting room, but his sole focus was on the pounding in his chest and the sinking feeling in his gut. All he could think about was you; what drove you to this? What could he have done differently last night to ensure your safety? Why was your brother calling you insistently throughout the morning? Most importantly, were you going to be ok? He didn’t want to think about that right now, couldn’t think about that right now, unless he wanted the hospital to have to admit him, too. 

Before Yoongi could spiral any further, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his youngest friend, dressed in gray sweats and a loose black pullover. Jungkook had a sad look in his eyes, not pity, but heartache at the pain his friend was feeling. Jungkook squatted down in front of Yoongi, hand still on his shoulder, so he could be at eye level with him. “Hey man. Any news?” He asked, solemnly. 

Yoongi shook his head slightly, trying to collect himself enough to utter a few words. “No. Nothing.” Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stop, just for a moment. His effort was all in vain, as Jungkook took hold of Yoongi’s hand, pulling him up into the taller man’s chest, embracing him. Yoongi’s small frame seemed even smaller in this moment, shoulders shrunk in on themselves, as Jungkook hugged the broken man.

“Why don’t you tell me about her?” Jungkook whispered to Yoongi, rubbing a hand up and down his back comfortingly. “We can grab some coffee and you can tell me all about her.” Jungkook wanted to get Yoongi away from this waiting room full of curious eyes, and wanted him to relax a little. He knew he was going to want to see you as soon as you were in the clear, and he wanted to make sure he was in a good enough state to do so. He could feel Yoongi nod against his chest, pulling away but still keeping one arm around the shorter man’s shoulders. 

Yoongi and Jungkook sat at a quiet table in the corner of the hospital cafeteria, nursing two black coffees. Yoongi was staring out of the window to his right, not really paying attention to what Jungkook was saying.

“Yoongi, do you want to talk about it? How did you guys even meet?”

Yoongi gave a small shrug, “she’s been visiting every year since I moved into my grandma’s house. I just now finally built up the courage to say hi. She seemed sad.” had a permanent frown in his brow. 

“So you wanted to say hello because she seemed sad?”

“Yes, JK, what more do you want from me?” Yoongi shot the younger man a glare from where he sat across from him.

Jungkook leaned back slightly, holding his hands up in a pacifying manner. “Hey, hey, man. I just want to hear about her, want you to tell me about her. That’s all” He said in a hushed tone.

Yoongi looked down at his coffee, focusing on the small billows of steam rising from it. “I’m sorry - I just -” he looked up at Jungkook, unshed tears threatening to fall again, “She’s perfect, you know? She doesn’t deserve any of this pain. She lost her parents, her brother, basically everyone who cared about her. I just wanted to- to be someone she could lean on,” he blinked rapidly, trying to rid the tears before adding on, “I think I love her, JK.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his expression, nodding his head. “I support you Yoongi, you know that. I always will.” Yoongi nodded at this. He knew it, would never forget it. Him and Jungkook had been through so much together, that’s why he was the first person Yoongi called when he got to the hospital this morning. “What do you think happened that caused her to do it?”

Yoongi bit his lip, remembering he had your phone tucked away in his pocket still. He slid it out, setting it on the tabletop between him and Jungkook. “I’m not sure… but I think it has something to do with her brother calling her.” As if he was summoned, Namjoon’s name appeared on the small screen, phone vibrating so violently it moved a little across the table. He’d been calling all morning, and from what Yoongi could gather from your lock screen, all night, too. It wasn’t his place to go through your phone, or to answer the calls from your brother, especially if him calling had anything to do with your current condition.

“Are you going to answer him?” Jungkook hesitantly asked, looking from the phone, to Yoongi, and back again as the vibrating faded out. 

Yoongi shook his head quickly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his temple. He really needed to stop crying, he thought. “No. What if he’s the reason she’s here in the first place?”

“He’s her brother right? Her family?” Jungkook started, seeing Yoongi nod in confirmation he continued, “don’t you think he should know his sister is in the hospital for attempted suicide?”

Yoongi scoffed. He was bitter, but part of him knew Jungkook was right. He’s still her family, after all. Would it be the right thing to do, to tell him you’re here? Would he even want to see you? From what you’ve told Yoongi about your brother, he doesn’t think so. “He left her the last time it happened, hasn’t spoken to her since,” Yoongi mumbled, almost too quietly for Jungkook to hear, “I’m not sure he would even care.”

Jungkook pursed his lips. He doesn’t know you, nor is he going to pretend to know what it’s like to be in your shoes. Yoongi knew you better than he did, so he was going to take Yoongi’s word for it. “Want to head back up? See if there’s any news?” Yoongi nodded, looking down at the floor. The both grabbed their to-go cups and headed towards the elevators. 

Pain. Seething hot pain in your throat, that’s all you mind was focusing on right now. Your vision was black, and no matter how hard you tried to make a sound, nothing would come out. It felt like a thousand hot knives were forcing themselves down your esophagus, blocking any air flow. You were suffocating, this must be what it feels like to die, right? Because the last thing you remember was laying down on the cool tile floor of your bathroom after you swallowed your entire bottle of antidepressants. The pain in your throat must be from the excessive amount of pills you downed, right? Nothing else could explain this excruciating pain. You were obviously being punished for taking fate into your own hands. That was the only reasonable explanation you could come up with in your current state of mind.

“She’s waking up!” 

Wait. Why can you hear people? If there were people around, were you alive? 

“Administer more Propofol, she needs to be unconscious.”

No. No, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to be gone. You wanted to be gone, but right now all you could think about now was making this pain stop. You silently prayed that whoever was helping you would make this pain go away. 

Yoongi was leaning on Jungkook’s firm shoulder, both sitting on ugly plastic green chairs in the hospital waiting room. A nurse had informed Yoongi that you were out of the operating room, and were moved to a more private ward of the hospital to recover. He wasn’t allowed in yet, as they wanted to monitor you a little while longer to make sure you were out of the woods. They explained to him that the first few hours after an overdose were the most crucial if there was any hope of the brain recovering. 

Yoongi was distraught, to say the least. Torn between calling Namjoon and waiting. He knew you didn’t have your parents anymore, knew that you and your brother didn’t speak, despite the 100 plus missed calls on your phone that said otherwise. He wasn’t sure if you had any friends back home in Busan, but from what you’ve told him, he guessed you didn’t. He was worried that you wouldn’t remember him when you woke up, and you would be confused and scared, alone in the hospital. He thought about calling your brother, just so you’d have a familiar face to wake up to, but the devil on his shoulder wouldn’t let him make the call. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that if you did, in fact, remember what happened, the last person you’d want to see is Namjoon. 

Jungkook was deathly silent, texting his wife and family updates about you and Yoongi. Despite not knowing Yoongi well, or you at all, Jungkook and his entire extended family took an interest in your well-being. Jungkook told them how you had no family, and they completely understood why he was missing Christmas dinner. Yoongi felt bad for keeping him, but Jungkook reassured him over and over again, this is where he wants to be. 

“Mr. Min?” a mouse-like voice called from the circular desk at the center of the waiting area. 

Yoongi shot ramrod straight in his seat, eyes searching for the voice. A short, dark-haired woman who looked to be around Yoongi’s age, was making her way towards him. She had a sweet smile on her face, which only minutely lessened Yoongi’s worries.

“Mr. Min?” She asked again, hesitantly. She waited for Yoongi’s grunt in confirmation before continuing, “I don’t have anyone listed as Miss Y/LN’s next of kin, so since you were the one who brought her here, would you like an update on her status?” He voice was kind and soft, respectful of the environment they were currently in.

Yoongi cleared his throat lightly, “Ye-yes, of course. Yes.” He stuttered out, standing up and moving towards the kind nurse. He glanced over his shoulder at Jungkook, who gave him a small smile, encouraging him to go with the lady.

“I’ll be fine, do what you need to do,” Jungkook waved him off.

The young nurse nodded and turned around, walking back towards the desk. Yoongi trailed after her like a lost puppy, waiting for answers. “Mr. Min, we’re going to be keeping Miss Y/LN here at the hospital for a few days. She’s being put under suicide watch for 72 hours, as is protocol with cases like these,” Yoongi nodded solemnly, understanding the severity of the situation, “I see you listed on her intake paperwork that this wasn’t her first attempt. Is that right?”

Yoongi nodded his head. He didn’t like sharing your personal stories with this stranger, but he understood it was going to help them better care for you, which is all he wanted. “Yes. She had attempted… yeah. Three years ago.” 

The woman nodded her head, writing something on the clipboard she now held in her hands. “Thank you, Mr. Min. We’re going to continue to monitor her, but her vitals are looking good, and there are no outward signs of brain damage right now. This could change however, as once she’s awake and alert, her doctor will want to do another brain scan.”

Yoongi nodded, just glad you were alive and breathing. 

“She’s not awake yet, the sedatives are still wearing off, but they’ve removed intubation and she is resting,” Yoongi winced at this fact, “would you like to see her?”

Yoongi’s eyes finally met the small nurses after staring daggers into the hospital linoleum. “I can see her?”

The woman gave a short nod and a gentle smile. “Of course! I can tell you care a lot about her. She’s very lucky to have you, sir.”

Yoongi nodded, looking down again. He didn’t feel very lucky, and didn’t think you would either right about now. 

“Follow me.” 

Yoongi followed the lady back through two industrial looking double doors, past sterile smelling hospital rooms and nurses and doctors moving rapidly up and down the corridors. Yoongi always hated hospitals, they reminded him of when his Grandmother passed away. He was so hyper focused on walking, he barely heard her when the nurse spoke again. “Before you go in, it’s best to take a moment to prepare yourself for what you’re going to see. It can be really hard to see a loved one in this state, so I’m here to answer any questions you may have,” she advised kindly as she came to a stop outside your room. Yoongi’s stomach fluttered at the mention of you being his ‘loved one’ and he mentally scolded himself. This nurse had no idea about the strange dynamic that is your relationship, if you could even call it that. 

Yoongi shook his head lightly, indicating he didn’t have any questions, at least, not for her. She gave one nod of her head, before clutching her clipboard to her chest. “I wish you the best, Mr. Min.” She said as she walked away. 

Yoongi took a deep breath through his mouth, exhaling slowly through his nose. He wasn’t prepared to see you in a hospital bed, but his excitement at seeing you alive was overtaking his senses right now. He slowly pushed the door to your room open, taking two hesitant steps through the threshold. His eyes immediately scanned the room, falling over your fragile, but breathing, body. As Yoongi quietly shut the door behind him, tears automatically started falling down his cheeks, silent sobs hitting his chest. He swiftly closed the gap between him and your bed, lip trembling, and took your cold, limp hand in his. He didn’t even bother pulling one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs with him, he just knelt on the floors, kneecaps be damned. He wasn’t sure how he was going to react when he saw you, he knew he would feel relief at knowing you were alive, but he didn’t expect to be quite so overcome with emotion. He definitely didn’t expect to feel intense happiness at the fact that he could hold you again. You had no idea the effect you had on him, and in only four short days. 

You laid on the hospital bed, dressed in one of those white, scratchy hospital gowns. Your eyes were even more sunken in than Yoongi remembers, skin sallow and taking on an almost sickly green color. Your hair was a mess, and Yoongi inwardly cursed the nurses for not at least brushing through it for you. Your arm was bruised purple and green at the crease of your elbow where your IV now sat. Your bottom half was covered by a thick blue blanket that looked a little itchy. Yoongi grabbed the top of the blanket with his free hand, moving it up farther on your body, tucking it lightly at your far side. Even in this state, you looked beautiful to him. Despite what has taken place over the last 12 or so hours, he was still enraptured by you and your beauty. 

Yoongi brought your bony hand up to his face, placing a soft, lingering kiss on the back of your knuckles. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and his heart hurt. He didn’t have any more tears to cry, just silent sobs as he laid his forehead on your cold hand. 

Eventually Jungkook made his way up to your room, after being informed by the same brunette nurse that Yoongi was up there with you. He knocked softly on the door twice before opening it and entering. Yoongi was still knelt on the floor by your bed. Jungkook sighed and knelt down next to him

“She’s gonna be ok man,” Jungkook started, placing his hand on Yoongi’s back, “you should rest before she wakes up.”

Yoongi nodded, allowing Jungkook to pull a chair over for him before sitting down in it, never letting go of your hand. Jungkook sat in a chair a little bit behind Yoongi, making sure the older man knew he was there for support. They sat in silence like that for a while before Yoongi started to feel drowsy, eyes falling shut and drifting into a fitful sleep, forehead pressed to your bed. 

You slowly blinked your eyes open, squinting from the bright lights above you. An intense smell of bleach hit your nose causing your throat to constrict and burn. The burn. It was still there, but dulled from last time you remember. You closed your eyes again, squeezing them shut in pain as you tried to swallow, causing a small, yet hoarse, whimper to emit from your throat. 

Immediately, Yoongi’s head shot up at the sound of you. He started rubbing soothing circles onto the back of your hand, still clutched in his. “YN,” he whispered, standing from his seated position, moving even closer to your body.

You blinked your eyes a few times before looking up at Yoongi. He could see the pain in your eyes with the way they were scrunched up cutely at the sides. You brought your hand to your throat subconsciously and Yoongi knew what you meant. He grabbed the pitcher of water from your bedside table and poured you a cup, passing it to you. You silently thanked him with a nod of your head and started gulping down the water. Yoongi sat back down and watched you carefully. He heard Jungkook stand from behind him, dimmed the lights, having watched how you were squinting your eyes, and quietly left the room to give you both some privacy. Yoongi reminded himself to thank him profusely later, but right now his focus was on you.

You finished the cup of water and Yoongi took the cup from your hand and set it back on the side table. “YN,” he whispered again, bringing his hand up to brush against your cheek, “you’re ok.” He smiled at you, genuinely smiled for the first time since last night. He was so beyond happy to see you, alive and well in front of him. 

You had a million thoughts running through your mind right now, and Yoongi could tell by the panic stricken look flashing in your eyes. He soothingly rubbed his hand up and down your arm that was free of any tubes. “It’s ok, love,” he comforted, “I’m here to listen if you want to talk, or if you don’t I’ll sit here with you in silence. You don’t need to explain yourself. I’m just happy you’re ok.” He smiled at you, and even though you could feel the love radiating off of him, you felt sick to your stomach.

How could Yoongi still want to be by your side after what you had just done? How could he still want to comfort you when you were like this? You had a lot of questions, but there was one at the forefront of your mind. “Did you find me?” Your voice was rough from the intubation tube, which you guessed was the reason for your throat burning before. You looked away from Yoongi when you asked, not being brave enough to meet his eye, in fear of what you might find. 

He sighed lightly, almost inaudibly. “Yes.” You could tell without even looking at him that he was choking up, on the verge of tears. At the sound of his voice, you let your own hot tears roll down your cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away. A large hand immediately came up to wipe them away. “Hey, don’t cry, love,” he whispered, “I’m not mad, I’m not upset. These are happy tears, I promise.”

“I’m not happy,” you sniffled, “I’m sorry, Yoongi, that you had to see me like that.” You brought your own hand up to your face to wipe at your nose. 

“YN, I don’t care about that. I swear to you, all that matters to me now is you. I want to keep you safe, want to help you fight this battle so you don’t have to do it alone. You have me, all of me.” His words were so sincere, so loving, you spared a glance at him, and the moment your eyes met, you knew he meant everything that he said. Even in your current state, he sent butterflies erupting throughout your stomach. You took in his face for a moment, red and puffy, tear stained cheeks, but his eyes were happy. You felt safe with him. You knew you’d have to talk about what all this means later, explain to him why you did what you did, but for now, you just wanted to be in his presence. 

Yoongi sat with you for the next few hours, texting Jungkook to head home to his family, apologizing profusely for keeping him away on Christmas. You didn’t talk much, just offering sweet smiles when Yoongi would check to make sure you were doing ok. Like the nurse told Yoongi earlier, your doctor came in to take you for a brain scan and to run some other tests. Yoongi waited patiently in your room while you were being tested. 

When you returned, the doctor checked your vitals again, before letting you both know that he would be back in the morning to run some more tests, and give you the results of the brain scan. You both thanked him quietly before he wished you a merry Christmas, and took his leave.

Alone again with Yoongi, you felt a calm aura wash over you. “Thank you,” you whispered quietly into the dim room, “I’m sorry I ruined your Christmas,” you said with a slight frown.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Yoongi assured, walking over to your bed and sitting next to you, “There is no place I’d rather be than by your side.”

Just as Yoongi finished his sentence, a violent buzzing resounded through the room. Yoongi’s eyes went wide as dinner plates as he realized your phone was still in his pocket. Hesitantly, he brought it out of the back of his jeans and showed you what was on the screen.

You flinched when you saw your cell phone. You knew you’d have to confront Namjoon and Yoongi about what happened sooner or later, but you were really hoping it would be the latter. You reached out for your phone, pushing the red decline button. Yoongi looked at you with an unreadable expression as you let the phone fall to your side onto the bed.

You sighed, looking at Yoongi, lips pursed. “Go ahead, you can ask me,” you offered, rubbing a hand down the front of your face.

Yoongi looked sheepishly at you. Of course he wanted to know what happened, but he didn’t want to push you to tell him or to relive whatever it was that pushed you that far in the first place. His curiosity got the better of him as he chewed his lip raw. “What happened?” His voice was barely a whisper, the beeping of the equipment in the hospital room almost enough to mask it. 

“Namjoon was calling me, I guess, while we were having dinner last night,” you wrung your hands together, trying to warm them up in the frigid temperature in your room, “I didn’t think to check my phone until you walked me home.” Yoongi reached over to stop your ministrations, cupping both your hands in his and blowing warm breath between them. You smiled at his thoughtful actions before continuing, “He was drunk. I don’t think he even realized what he said, but - but he left me a voicemail,” your voice was getting quieter the further into your story you got, “he said he wished I had succeeded three years ago, that he wished he never saved me.”

Yoongi was seething. He had his suspicions that this was your brother’s doing, but he didn’t expect those words to fall from your mouth. He gripped your hands just a little bit together as he brought the back of them to his lips, forcing his emotions down. Yoongi bit down hard on his tongue to stop him from saying exactly what he wanted to say about your idiot brother, but he knew that you were still hurting, still recovering, and didn’t want to upset you or hurt you even further.

“YN - I’m sure he was just drunk,” he starts, before he realizes that the man who calls himself your brother has no excuse for what he said to you, “that does not, and I mean does not, give him an excuse to treat you like that, but you literally haven’t heard from him in what? Three years?” You nodded your head, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Yoongi gently reached up and thumbed at your bottom lip, pulling it away from the assault of your teeth before continuing, “He’s called you over a hundred times since last night. I haven’t answered, he doesn’t know you’re here, as far as I know. If you don’t want to tell him, don’t want to talk to him, I will support you, but I also think it would be good for you to get closure from him. Even if that means cutting him out of your life.” 

You nodded slowly, taking in Yoongi’s words. You knew he was right. You didn’t want to go through life wondering if Namjoon really meant what he said, if he was sorry, if he still thinks about you. You decided to table the conversation for now. It’s not doing anyone any good stressing yourself out about it. First, you needed to have a serious conversation with Yoongi about what exactly was happening between the two of you. You didn’t want there to be any questions when you went home from the hospital, wanted to feel secure in the choices you were about to make.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes, darling.” Yoongi said cooly, still holding onto your hands. He was doing that a lot today and you definitely weren’t complaining. 

“What is this?” You pulled one of your hands gently from Yoongi’s grasp and gestured half-assedly between you both. 

Yoongi’s brow furrowed momentarily before smoothing out and giving you a soft look. “YN - I - I don’t know what you’re expecting,” here it goes, you thought, he’s going to reject you. He’s going to say that this was all too much and he’s only here because he feels guilty. “I really didn’t want to do this here, while you’re lying in a hospital bed,” he scoffs lightly, shaking his head. Your heart drops. Is he really going to leave like this? You bite both your lips between your teeth, looking away to brace yourself for what he’s about to say. “YN I think I’m in love with you.”

Your head shoots up so quickly you think you might have whiplash. Yoongi giggles quietly at your reaction, gummy smile on display for a moment. “W-what?” Is the dignified answer you sputter out. 

This time, Yoongi is looking you directly in the eyes when he says, “I love you, YN. I know it’s only been a few days, but I already can’t imagine my life without you in it. I don’t care what hurdles we have to get past, I don’t care about all your baggage that you seem to think will scare me away, and I definitely don’t care that you seem to think you aren’t worth it. I know you’re worth it, you’re worth all of it.” Before you could form a response, Yoongi is standing up from his chair, wrapping both arms around your small frame and bending a little awkwardly to pull you up slightly to a sitting position. A beat passes before you realize he’s trying to hug you, and you quickly wrap your arms around his neck the best you can while  attached to all these wires and tubes. Yoongi nuzzled into your hair, which you think is probably a horrid mess right now, and whispered close to your ear, “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? I thought I lost you forever, that’s the biggest absence I could’ve felt from you. It made me realize I never want to let you go again.” He pulls back slightly, placing the softest kiss to your cheek before placing his forehead against yours.

You looked up at him through your now wet lashes, “I love you too, Yoongi. You make me feel safe. Something I haven’t felt in a really long time.” You choked out the last couple of words, tears making their way down your cheeks now. “I’m so sorry I put you through this, I’m so sorry I broke my promise.” You were sobbing again. 

“Shh,” he murmured against your hair, “It’s okay, love. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Whatever we need to work through, we will, together.”

“Thank you Yoongi, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, YN. I just want to see you continue living your life.”

You sniffled, pulling back from Yoongi to give him a smile. “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

You were stuck in the hospital for the mandatory three days after Christmas. During that time they ran multiple tests to make sure you didn’t have any lasting damage and you met with two different therapists. Sadly, you knew these procedures, as this wasn’t the first time you went through them. The second therapist you met with suggested putting you on a different antidepressant from the ones you had before, along with an anti-anxiety medication for at least the next few weeks. 

Yoongi stayed with you almost the entire time (aside from going home to check on Mochi and to shower), sleeping on two chairs pushed together, despite you inviting him up on your bed multiple times. He refused on the grounds of ‘I don’t want my first time in bed with you to be at the hospital’, to which you rolled your eyes at. Yoongi had really lightened your mood over the last few days, mixed with the new medications, you were almost feeling back to your ‘normal’ self, or at least as normal as you could be. 

You and Yoongi had decided that it would be best if you took at least one more week off work to recover, and Yoongi was quick to offer to stay with you at your cabin, or have you come stay with him at his, enticing you with Mochi cuddles. Eventually you decided on alternating between the two houses to give you a little reprieve from the memories your cabin will inevitably bring back. Neither of you were dim, you both knew being at the hospital was like a vacation away from your demons. When you stepped foot back in that house, you would likely struggle, at least a little bit more than you are here. 

Being on bed rest for a few days, on top of having your stomach pumped, really did a number on your muscles. You were consistently sore, and were almost too weak to walk on your own. Yoongi was quite the gentleman, massaging your calves when they hurt and walking you to the bathroom when you needed it. You felt lucky to be loved by him. You wanted to be able to show him just how much you loved him in return, and made a mental note to do just that once you recovered. 

On your second night in the hospital, a man by the name of Jungkook came by to check on you and Yoongi. He introduced himself as Yoongi’s best friend and you learned he was married with a baby due in just a few weeks. He was kind and handsome, just like Yoongi. You also found out that he had stayed with Yoongi at the hospital, on Christmas, while you were unconscious. You profusely apologized to the man, getting into a bowing battle while you were sitting on the edge of your bed, while he profusely refused your apologies. You decided you really liked Jungkook and his aloof personality and were glad Yoongi had such a great friend to be there for him. 

You were finally being released on December 28th in Yoongi’s care, something he wasn’t going to take lightly. The hospital made him sign paperwork saying he would keep an eye on you. While it made you feel slightly like a teenager again, you couldn’t deny that you probably needed it, and were just thankful it was Yoongi who would be the one watching over you. 

It was nearing 7 in the evening, well past dark, when Yoongi wheeled your wheelchair, another accommodation you tried to fight, out to his car. He helped you into the front seat, making sure you were comfortable before strapping you in with the seatbelt, closing the door, and jogging to the driver’s side. 

Yoongi clapped his hands together and rubbed them furiously together for a moment. “It’s freezing! Let’s get you home, baby!” He flashed you a gummy smile before starting the engine. 

You giggled at his antics and felt your cheeks heat at the pet name, covering your mouth with your hand. You were feeling pretty good on the drive home, Yoongi looking over at you every couple of minutes to make sure you were alright. You were curled up in the passenger seat watching the trees zoom past the window. Sometime during the drive, Yoongi reached over across the center console and placed his large hand over your knee. You glanced over at him, softly smiling at eachother, and placed your much smaller hand over his, intertwining your fingers together. 

The drive wasn’t long, maybe twenty minutes, but in those twenty minutes, you grew excited. Excited to spend time with Yoongi tonight, to lay with each other in your bed, excited for the future for what felt like the first time since your parents passed. You pictured your parents for a moment, a fleeting thought, what would they think of Yoongi? You wish they could’ve met him. You’re sure your mom would have loved his kind nature and his ability to cook. Your dad would have liked that he had good manners and was always a gentleman. You turned your head to look out the window, smiling sadly to yourself. You were sad they were gone, of course, but you were also happy in this moment and you didn’t want your memories to subtract from that. 

“Almost home, love.” Yoongi said, squeezing your knee. You didn’t realize you had just about dozed off, head leaning on the window. You pulled your hand away from Yoongi’s to rub at your eyes briefly. “Uh, YN?” You looked up at Yoongi in confusion, his tone almost panicked. “Whose car is that?”

Your eyes immediately found the car in question, a sleek, black sports car, parked behind your crappy silver sedan in the cabin’s driveway. It only took you a moment to realize by the license plate ‘RKIVE’ that it was your brother’s. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as Yoongi turned into his own driveway. He could tell by your reaction, you didn’t want to see the owner of that car. 

“My brother.”

It took you a good thirty minutes of pacing Yoongi’s kitchen and countless encouragements from the man himself to build up the courage to go over to your cabin. You had so many questions; why was Namjoon here? How long had he been there? How did he get in? You know you had the locks changed in the last three years since the incident. What confused you the most though, is the fact that his calls completely stopped after Christmas day. You had assumed that he had given up trying to contact you and went on with his life, but apparently he had different plans.

“Are you ready baby?” Yoongi asked you from the kitchen, standing up from pouring food into Mochi’s bowl.

“I really don’t know, Yoongi,” you twisted your wrist in your other hand, a nervous habit, “What if he’s here to yell at me again?”

“YN, I really don’t think he blew your phone up for a day and then drove all the way out here to yell at you,” Yoongi started, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, “and besides, if he is here to yell at you, I’ll be right by your side the entire time. You know I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, right?”

You nodded, letting out a deep sigh. Yoongi smiled at you and pinched your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, brought your face up to meet his gently, and placed a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fell shut and you felt all the tension in your body flow out of your body at once. This man really did have an effect on you, and you were thankful for that in this moment. “It’s now or never, I guess.”

You and Yoongi walked hand in hand over to your cabin, standing at your front door, you hesitated before unlocking it. Yoongi squeezed your hand as a silent gesture to let you know he was with you. You took a few cautious steps into the house, silently looking around the open living room. No sign of Joon yet.

As you stepped around the corner, you could hear faint rustling coming from one of the rooms. “Joon?” You called gently, probably not quite loud enough for anyone to hear. “Namjoon?” You called a little louder. The rustling stopped. Now you heard quick footsteps, loud clumsy footsteps that you could never mistake, heading in your direction. You stood half in front of Yoongi, hands still intertwined behind your back waiting for your brother to appear. 

Namjoon stumbled out of his old bedroom, looking not at all what you expected him to look like. He was wearing an old pair of black sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that you think once had your father’s college alumni printed on it. His light purple hair, that’s new, was disheveled and sticking out in every direction, looking like he had run his hand through it at least a thousand times. But what shocked you the most, was the pure panic in his eyes. As soon as his eyes met yours, the panic seemed to dissipate, though it didn’t completely disappear. He rushed over to you, placing both his large hands on the tops of your shoulders, startling you and causing you to bump into Yoongi behind you.

“YN - Oh my god, YN,” Namjoon started to sob, head dropping down onto your shoulder. You felt Yoongi let go of your hand and placed both of his hands on your waist, holding you steady against his chest. “Thank God you’re ok! Where the hell have you been!?” Namjoon was full on crying into your shoulder now, tears staining Yoongi’s sweatshirt he had let you wear home from the hospital. You were still pretty weak on your legs from the bedrest, so you started to wobble a bit from the pressure Namjoon was putting on you.

You started to bring your hand up to lightly push back from Namjoon to maintain your balance, bracing yourself against Yoongi. Namjoon looked at you with confusion in his eyes, before he glanced up seemingly noticing the blonde man behind you for the first time.

“Who the hell are you?” Namjoon demanded, though he didn’t sound very threatening with tears flowing down his face. 

“I-” Yoongi started, but you cut him off, feeling suddenly defensive of the man you love. 

“My boyfriend,” you started, causing Yoongi’s eyes to widen slightly. It’s not that he didn’t like the new title, he was just shocked, hearing it come from you. “Why are you here, Joon?”

“Boy- boyfriend? YN what is going on? Is that where you’ve been? Sleeping around with him?” You furrowed your brow, mouth dropping open. Was he drunk? 

“Are you fucking drunk again Namjoon?!” You started to raise your voice, attempting to pull away from Yoongi, but he wasn’t letting you move any further, worried for both you and your brother at this point. He’s never heard you raise your voice, and if he’s being honest, it’s rather intimidating.

“Yeah YN, I am! I drove 3 hours down to this God forsaken cabin last night to find my baby sister missing, nowhere to be found and a bottle of empty pills in the bathroom. How the fuck do you think I was supposed to deal with this?!” He was near screaming at this point. 

You raised your finger up and pointed it right at Namjoon’s chest, “Oh, I don’t know Joon, maybe you could have actually gone out and looked for me instead of sitting on your ass and drinking yourself to death!” Yoongi had a tight grip on your upper arms at this point, making sure you didn’t get physical. He was pretty sure your brother wouldn’t hurt you, but he couldn’t say the same for you. 

Namjoon scoffed at you, taking a small step forward so your finger pushed into his firm chest. “I thought you were dead YN! I was fucking terrified I was going to find you out in that God damned lake, frozen to death. I- I-” he stuttered out, fresh tears building up at his lashes and anger dissipating, “I was scared. I didn’t want to find you out there again.”

Though Namjoon’s anger seemed to be lessening, yours was only building. “Scared? You were scared!? Why!? Because if you found me out there, you knew it would have been your fault?” You spit the last words at your brother, you knew it was low, but he literally cut you out of his life, what did you owe him?

You watched as Namjoon let the tears fall down his cheeks, biting at his trembling lower lip. “I’m so - so sorry YN,” he whimpered, actually whimpered. You don’t think you’ve ever heard your beast of an older brother whimper. “You have to under- understand that I didn’t mean what I said the other night. I listened to the voicemail a few hours after I left it and I- I was so worried when you weren’t answering your phone. I wanted to apologize, take it back, but I was scared it was too late. I even called the police the day after to ask if they- th-” he didn’t need to finish that sentence, you knew what he meant. If they found your body. You heard Yoongi inhale a sharp breath behind you, obviously affected by what Namjoon was trying to say. You nearly forgot he has been a witness to this whole scene. “They said they didn’t find… anyone. I tried to let it go, tried to let you ignore me, but I couldn’t. I had to come down here and see for myself.”

“Well, here I am. You can leave. Now,” you spat, turning around and walking towards your kitchen. “C’mon Yoongi,” you mumbled, taking Yoongi’s hand in yours. 

“YN - wait,” it wasn’t your brother’s voice that you expected to hear, but Yoongi’s. You stopped and turned around, staring at him like he grew two heads. He took a step closer to you, “You need closure, YN,” he whispered softly down at you. Your eyes softened at his ability to stay so calm and level headed throughout this entire ordeal. You blinked up at him a few times before nodding your head. 

Yoongi didn’t want to put you in a position you were uncomfortable with and he knew you didn’t want to look at your brother. Hell, he wanted to beat the shit out of Namjoon himself, but he knew you needed this. 

You took a few steps past Yoongi, stopping a few feet in front of your brother. Namjoon, who had previously been staring a hole through the carpet, met your eyes with his glistening ones. Yes, he said horrible things to you. Yes, he has treated you as if you don’t exist for the past three years. But, he’s still your brother, right? He’s quite literally the only family you have left in this world. With both your parents gone, grandparents long dead, and no other siblings, Joon was really all you had. Even though he may not deserve your forgiveness, don’t you owe it to yourself to try and patch up your relationship?

“Joon…” you trailed off, looking up at the ceiling attempting to stop the rush of tears stinging the backs of your eyes. You weren’t sure if you should tell him what happened over the last few days, since you last heard his voice. He was the reason you were in the hospital in the first place, but did you really want to make him feel the guilt for putting you there? You weren’t so sure. Your caring nature yelling at you internally to lie, to sugar coat things to spare your brother the pain. Before you could fight your internal battle, it was Namjoon who spoke first. 

“Can we talk about this, a little more privately maybe?” He questioned, his sour tone catching Yoongi’s attention. Yoongi has tried to stay quiet through all of this, hoping to let you hash it out on your own. It wasn’t his place, after all. He didn’t know your brother, and he believed you could handle yourself. But he wasn’t about to leave you alone with Namjoon, and he needed to make sure the other man knew that.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Yoongi started, folding his arms across his chest defensively, “She is in my care, after all.” He really didn’t want to play that card, unsure of how you would feel about it, but he really, really, needed Namjoon to know that he wasn’t going to budge. 

“What the hell do you mean she’s in ‘your care’?” Namjoon narrowed his eyes, shooting a questioning glare your way.

You let out a heavy sigh, briefly turning your body to give Yoongi an apologetic look. “I’ve been in the hospital, Joon. They only released me on the condition he stays with me, or vice versa.”

“Wh-what do you mean you were in the hospital?” His previous distraught look coming back, “Why didn’t you call me? I’m your family I should be the one-”

You cut him off before he could finish that statement, “Taking care of me? Namjoon, you left me at a hospital three years ago and haven’t so much as said ‘hello’ to me since then. What makes you think you have any right to even assume I would want you to care for me?” Namjoon at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself for the first time tonight.

“YN, I- I called that night, on Christmas Eve, to apologize,” he looked behind you at a glaring Yoongi before looking back at your equally enraged face, “I know, I know! I definitely didn’t do that in the voicemail that I left, ok I know,” he put his hand up as if to pacify you, “I had been drinking and I was thinking about you - in fact I - I think about you all the time. I’ve just been a terrified asshole who was too afraid you’d reject my apology. I had the courage that night and tried calling you a few times. When you didn’t answer I figured you hated me, and it set me off. I- I’m s-so sorry YN I never, ever meant to hurt you like this. I was so scared of losing you, I tried to distance myself from you, so if I did l-lose you, it wouldn’t hurt as bad as when we lost mom and dad.”

Your eyes softened minutely at his words, the fire in your eyes fleeting, but still there. “You’re fucking right you’ve been an asshole Joon,” you scoffed, “did you ever think about what I needed? How I felt? You distancing yourself from me was like having my entire family ripped away from me. You were all I had left.” Your last words were whispered, but your brother heard them loud and clear. 

Namjoon's long legs only needed two steps in your direction before you were chest to chest with him, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders. To say you were shocked was an understatement. Regardless of how much you wanted to hate your brother right now, you couldn’t deny that it felt nice to be in his familiar arms again. He hasn’t hugged you in years, and you’re feeling lightheaded from all the physical contact you’ve had in the last week. It took you a moment to respond to his hug, slowly wrapping your weak arms around his middle. He could feel the way your small frame was beginning to shake, presuming you were weak from being in the hospital. It took him a second to realize you were sobbing in his arms.

Namjoon nuzzled his face into the side of your head, having to bend a significant amount to account for the height difference, and croaked, “I’m sorry YN. I’m so, so sorry. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, please let me be here for you. Let me be your shoulder to cry on, be the one you confide in again.” He sniffled, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. “I’ll stay by your side, I won't leave you, I promise.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you blubbered out, soaking Namjoon’s shirt with your tears. He ran a hand soothingly up and down your back as he let his own silent tears fall. 

“I’ve missed you too baby sister.”

Yoongi had been a silent observer, staying back, allowing you both to have the space you needed to sort this out. At this point, he wore a small smile, arms still crossed over one another. He decided it was time for him to leave you both alone for a moment to catch up and talk things through a little further. He quietly slipped out of the living room with a plan to make some hot tea for you, briefly meeting Namjoon’s eyes which were silently thanking the older man.Yoongi gave a quick nod and turned to walk away. 

You and your brother spent the next few hours talking about everything on your living room couches. He stayed close, but not too close, to give you your own space, which you appreciated. Yoongi came back after a little while, hot tea and mugs in tow. He sat by your side, offering you silent support with a hand on your knee or shoulder. You were thankful for his presence. Even though you and Namjoon had talked some things out, you still felt a little awkward with him here. 

You told Namjoon about your job and how you haven’t left it yet, despite hating your boss for so long. You talked about your life in Busan and how you moved into a new apartment a couple years back. He told you about his studio, Rkive, in Seoul and how he’s been working with some pretty big names recently. He was hopeful that one of his songs was up for Song of the Year for some award show next month. You expressed how proud you were of him, finally having the chance to tell him. Most importantly, you talked about your brief stay at the rehab facility three years ago and your most recent stay in the hospital here. You both cried when you talked about your second attempt at your life. You hugged each other and Namjoon apologized profusely to you, which you graciously accepted.

After you had spilled all your collective tears and put everything out on the table, Namjoon turned his attention to the other man in the room, who up until this point, had been completely quiet. “Yoongi?”

Yoongi was taken by surprise at the sound of his name coming from Namjoon’s mouth. Eyebrows raised, he looked at the purple haired man sitting across from him, “Hmm?” 

“I wanted to thank you,” Namjoon said apologetically, “I don’t know you, but you saved my sister. She also seems to trust you,” he gave you a quick smile, showing off one of his dimples, “so I guess I should, too. But really, man, thank you. I don’t know what I would do if I lost her.” His gaze fell to his hands that were clasped in his lap.

Yoongi sat up a little straighter on the couch before answering, “You don’t have to thank me. I share the sentiment, I don’t know what I would do without her.” He smiled down at your, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, making you give him a small smile in return. “I really love her,” he said lovingly. He was talking to Namjoon, but he was staring into your eyes, getting lost in them for a moment. Namjoon noticed this, and couldn’t hide the smile that was spreading across his own face. That’s when he knew you were in good hands. He trusted Yoongi.

The next hour passed by quickly, sharing more stories amongst the three of you. Eventually Namjoon told you he had to get going, needing to be back in Seoul for a meeting tomorrow morning. He offered to cancel and stay the night, but you and Yoongi both told him he should go, and not to worry about you. If Yoongi wasn’t here, Namjoon would have definitely canceled, but he felt good about leaving you with him 

You wrapped your arms around your brother's neck, reaching up on your tiptoes. Namjoons arms wrapped around your middle, lifting you up slightly as he whispered in your ear, “I love you baby sister, please don’t forget that. I never stopped loving you.”

“I love you too Joon, don’t be a stranger.”

“I won't, trust me,” he let out a short laugh, devoid of any humor before setting you back down on your feet. He turned to look at Yoongi, before reaching out to shake his hand. Yoongi walked the short distance to grab his hand, only to be pulled into Namjoon’s frame for a hug. “Thank you again, Yoongi. I wish I could stay longer to get to know you a little better, but it was really nice to meet you.”

“I’m sure there will be more opportunities for us to meet,” Yoongi said, with an almost demanding tone. Namjoon took the warning for what it was, leaving you a little oblivious next to them. “Drive safe.”

Namjoon pulled away, giving you one final smile, before turning around to take his leave. You stood in the doorway, watching your brother start his car and pull out of the driveway. You knew you had plenty more unresolved issues and a lot more to discuss, but for now, your chest felt lighter at the aspect of having your brother back in your life. You were a little sad that he had to leave so quickly, when you felt like you just got him back, but were hopeful you would see him soon. 

Yoongi could feel your mood shift slightly, moving to wrap his arms around you from behind in a comforting back hug. You closed and locked the front door before turning around in his grasp. “I’m sorry,” you murmured into his chest. You didn’t see it, but Yoongi looked down at you in confusion.

“Why are you sorry, love?” He inquired, rubbing a hand up and down your spine.

“I’m sorry you had to sit here all night and listen to me cry,” you began, “I’m also sorry you had to meet my brother under such circumstances.”

“Don’t be sorry, YN. I’m so happy you were able to see Namjoon again and talk about things. I know it can be hard to talk about these things, and I know it must be hard to let him back into your life suddenly, but I know it will be helpful to you in the long run. I only want you to be happy, love.”

You look up at Yoongi in complete awe. How was this man in love with you? A broken shell of a person, with her weights worth of baggage. What did you do to deserve him? The literal epitome of perfection.

“Don’t thank me,” Yoongi lightly scolded, a smile on his face. “I can practically hear your thoughts right now.”

You scoffed, mock offended, putting your hands on his chest to playfully pull away. He wasn’t having it though, and pulled you back into him, rocking you both back and forth gently. “Oh no you don’t, you’re mine tonight,” you know he meant it in a playful way, but it did things to you that you didn’t want to admit to yourself right now, “I told you I wanted to lay with you properly and I’ve been waiting way too long to finally do that.”

“Let’s go to bed,” you began, taking Yoongi’s hand in your, walking down the hallway towards your bedroom. 

“Sounds like a great plan,” Yoongi said, following after you obediently. 

After you and Yoongi both got changed (Yoongi having to run home to grab some things, and also grab a very unamused cat), you kneeled in the corner of your room playing with Mochi, who lay in his cat bed that Yoongi also brought over. 

Yoongi was laying back on your pink sheets, arms crossed behind his head, watching you in amusement. “He really likes you, you know.”

You looked over your shoulder with a toothy smile on your face. Yoongi very nearly melted into your mattress at the sight. “You think so?” Yoongi nodded as you turned back around to face the Calico in front of you. “Well, I really like him too,” you cooed at the cat in question as he arched his back into your pets. After you had your fill of cuddles, you slowly stood up from your crouching position, causing Mochi to mewl.

Yoongi let out a loud laugh from his spot on your bed. “Yeah, I would say he definitely likes you.”

You laughed along with Yoongi while turning the lamp on your side table off. Yoongi scooted over on the bed to make room for you, pulling the pink and white comforter back. You gladly took your spot on the bed, rolling on your side to face Yoongi. To say you were nervous was a big understatement. “I’m gonna miss him when I go back to Busan,” you whispered sadly. 

“I’m glad my cat made such a big impact on you,” Yoongi said dryly, deadpanning in your direction.

You giggled quietly and shushed him. “Of course I’m gonna miss you too, Yoongi. I thought that was a given.”

“I mean, it’s still nice to hear,” he gently smiled down at you before draping one arm over your side, placing his warm hand on your lower back. He nudged your back a little, signaling you to move closer, to which you obliged. “You know, you don’t have to go back,” Yoongi whispered, hopefully. 

“Yoongs, I have to,” Yoongi smiled his signature gummy smile at the nickname making you stifle a laugh, “my job is there, I have an apartment there. I can’t just leave.”

“Is this cabin paid off?” Yoongi asked abruptly, before you could continue making excuses.

“Yes…” you trailed off hesitantly. 

“Then you could leave your lease in Busan, and move to the cabin. I know you love your job, but there is an animal shelter here. It’s where I got Mochi from,” the cat meowed softly in the corner, making you smile again, “I could put in a good word for you.”

Yoongi was so thoughtful. I definitely don’t deserve this man, you thought to yourself. Yoongi chuckled and raised his hand to brush a strand of hair over your shoulder. “Did I just say that outloud?” You asked, mortified for Yoongi’s answer.

He just nodded, still giggling. “YN you deserve the world, and I will work every day to make sure you believe that.” 

Your cheeks were hot, but your heart was full at his words. This beautiful man in front of you wanted to give you the world, wanted to make sure you never wanted for more in your life. Who were you to turn down such an offer? What did you have to lose anyways? A shitty paycheck and an even shitter apartment. That’s what.

“Okay.” You state simply.

“Okay?” Yoongi perked up, lifting his head a bit to stare at you. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight shining through your window that you could see the way his eyes lit up at your words. You smiled a bright smile at him, nodding your head aggressively. “Do you mean that?” Now he was sporting a smile to match your own.

“Yes, Yoongi. I’ll do it. I want to do it. I’m ready.” You smiled, because you were. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken truer words. You were ready. Ready to put Busan behind you, ready to start a new life with Yoongi. 

“I love you YN,” Yoongi said seriously, searching your eyes for any bit of hesitance, to which he found none, “I mean it, love.” He looked down to your pink lips, and back up at your eyes. 

Your breath caught in your throat, the feeling of butterflies suffocating your lungs was a good one for once. You nibbled on your bottom lip and exhaled shakily. Yoongi grunted, a sound you realized you found incredibly sexy and wanted to commit to memory for a rainy day. He was staring at you intensely, silently asking for permission, which you granted with a quick nod of your head.

Yoongi’s lips crashed onto yours with an intensity you’ve never felt before. The flutter in your chest only increased as his soft lips moved against yours. All you could feel, taste, smell, was Yoongi. You inhaled his citrus-y scent, letting it surround you and he brought his free hand up to your burning cheek while his other caressed your side gently. He tasted better than you could have ever imagined, a little minty, and you were immediately hooked. His kiss was like the nicotine you craved from your cigarettes, your new addiction. Your lips moved together synchronously for a few minutes before both of your lungs burned for oxygen and you reluctantly pulled away. 

Yoongi held your face in his hands like fragile China, reveling in this moment here with you, your face illuminated by the moon shining through your window. He saw galaxies in your lust filled eyes, the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

“Thank you, YN,” Yoongi whispered breathlessly, mere centimeters from your lips.

“For what?” You asked, just as breathless, chest heaving.

“For giving me one more day.”

© aliendes | copyright 2020

[literatiruinedme]

a not-so-fix-it fix-it

here’s a little over 800 words; I found writing this cathartic, and I hope reading it offers you all the same <3

The friendship of Jughead Jones and Kevin Keller was a unique one.

While Jughead and Kevin both ran in the same circles- it was hardly easy to run in different ones in a town as small as Riverdale -their friendship was more casual.

Betty was usually the glue holding them together.

The thought made things even sadder when Jughead, soaked from the pouring rain and shivering from the late March chill, showed up on Kevin’s front porch. He rang his hat in his hands as he explained that he needed a place to stay.

It was only after a hot shower, a fresh pair of pyjamas, and nearly an entire box of frozen waffles that Jughead had finally opened up about how he had ambled all the way to Kevin's door.

“They what?”

Jughead sighed, looking down at the last waffle on his plate, his voice too timid for the angsty persona he usually exuded. “Not so loud.” His red-rimmed eyes met Kevin's gaze after a small stretch of silence. 

Kevin wanted to say more, but he didn't know what.

“She told me and I just walked out.” Jughead fidgeted with the drawstring of his borrowed hoodie, sniffing before he let his hands fall to the counter. “I just started walking and-” He sighed. “Then the rain started and I looked up long enough to recognize where I was.”

Kevin shuddered at the prospect of even a disagreement between Betty and Jughead; they had never argued to the point of him walking out like that- at least, as far as Kevin knew -but this was...uncharted entirely.

“I can go,” Jughead said softly. “I'll wait until the rain dies down and then I'll-” He paused, the last spark of light in his gaze dying as quickly as it was born. A defeated sigh escaped him. “I'll go to Pop's.” He let out a weak laugh as his eyes grew misty again.

“Hey.” Kevin reached across the counter, resting his hand on Jughead's arm. “You’re crazy if you think I'm letting you leave right now.”

“I don't want to intrude-”

“You're my friend.”

Jughead froze, an awestruck look on his face before he pulled himself together, a melancholy look in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Kevin nodded, gently squeezing Jughead's arm before he turned away, holding up the last two frozen waffles. “Would a waffle help?”

Jughead nodded with a small smile. “Thanks.”

Kevin nodded, dropping them in the toaster.

“Did you-” Jughead frowned, looking down at the counter as his hands disappeared beneath the speckled stone. “Does she know I'm here?”

After a moment of contemplation, Kevin nodded.

Jughead swallowed before nodding his head. 

“Do you want me to-”

“No.” Jughead shook his head, discreetly wiping away a tear. “I just don't want her to worry.” He paused, blinking down at the counter before biting his lower lip. “Fuck-” He turned in the barstool, doubling forward as he shook with silent tears.

Kevin pretended to make himself look busy, ignoring the slow trickle of texts from Betty to Veronica to Archie; Jughead was safe and taken care of- that was all anyone needed to know. He silenced his phone, flipping it over after the waffles jumped in the toaster.

Jughead took a handful of steadying breaths before slowly turning back to Kevin. His eyes remained downcast as he focused on the waffles Kevin was buttering. 

Kevin ignored the red splotches on Jughead's face, trading the plate of food for his empty water glass. “I have a question that may just change the course of our friendship,” he said without preamble, glancing up at Jughead with a small smile.

Jughead raised one brow in curiosity as he quickly drank from the glass Kevin provided.

Kevin leaned down on his forearms, levelling himself to Jughead. “So, would you be okay sharing the bed or do you want me to take the floor?”

“Oh, no,” Jughead said sarcastically. “There was only one bed.”

Even if he was glad to hear Jughead's trademarked sarcasm, Kevin rolled his eyes. “Boys your age tend to think a man wants something if you share a bed.”

Jughead scoffed before finishing the last of his waffles. “You take me for a whore, Kevin?”

Kevin shrugged, straightening to his full height. “You're definitely pretty enough.”

Jughead smiled, taking another long sip from his water before he spoke again. “Look, I'm not talking to Betty right now, but-” He let out a heavy sigh. “But that's because I need to cool off...and she needs to think- but I promise I'm not going to fall in love with you if we share a bed.”

Kevin held his pinky out to Jughead, earning a grin. “Promise?”

Jughead smiled, wrapping his pinky around Kevin's. “Promise.”

“Alright then,” Kevin said, holding his hand out when Jughead looked away. “Phone, please.”

Jughead's brows furrowed in confusion. “My phone?”

“Yeah, I'm not letting you near anything with a messaging system.”

“You're serious?”

“It's for your own good.”

After a moment of thought, Jughead nodded, sliding his phone across the counter. “Kev?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

[spikeymarshmallows]

For your writers block prompt, could you do some museum verse kliego maybe on their honeymoon? I *adore* your proposal fic, and think maybe a little snippet of a honeymoon could be a quick easy pick-me-up for some happy writing :) Maybe 700 words? Good luck on your writers block!

Thank you, bb!! This is about 800 words, and it’s made me wanna work more on their honeymoon because it feels totally incomplete... but there are definitely some happy feels here. 

Thanks for suggesting this prompt! It’s been an age since I’ve written for my Museum ‘verse, and I always forget how much I love them....

It was warm when Diego woke up. It didn't take him any time to remember he wasn't at home. The bed was comfortable, but it wasn't his bed. That wasn't to say he hadn't slept well. He had, even with a sleeping Klaus flinging an arm out in the middle of the night and hitting Diego in the chest. Diego had woken momentarily, before he'd shifted over to bring them closer. It hadn't woken Klaus, but Klaus was better at sleeping in strange places than Diego was.

Diego blinked slowly, somewhat regretting not closing the blinds. It was far too bright, and while he liked getting up with the sun, he didn't like getting up with it directly in his eyes.

"No, no laptops," Diego grumbled, rolling over and burying his face against Klaus' thigh. "You said no work here." Klaus was already tapping away at his computer. At least he was still in bed.

"Yeah, but—"

Diego lifted his head enough that Klaus could see his sleepy glare. Klaus rolled his eyes fondly and put the laptop on the nightstand. He then shifted down the bed so that he could face Diego, making Diego grumble again as he was dislodged from using Klaus' thigh as his pillow.

Klaus grinned at him, his eyes a little darker than usual with the eyeliner he hadn't entirely wiped clean the night before. His curls were frizzy and tangled, something that Diego would no doubt get snarked at later on for causing. But then, Diego would placate him with the promise of a head massage while he combed the tangles out.

"Sleep okay?"

Klaus nodded, smirking. "Was remarkably worn out. Can't imagine why that might have been."

They hadn't planned to be up as late as they had been—getting to their villa had been a process and their body clocks were still on Eastern time. And just quietly, Diego wasn't as used to this whole travelling thing as Klaus was. Despite how often Klaus travelled, there was absolutely nothing smooth about the process. Diego had been tired, and yeah, okay, so it was their honeymoon, but he figured that a shower and a quickie would do for the first night. Besides, they'd been together for how long now? Sex was absolutely not the basis for their honeymoon.

Well. Okay.  Sex was not entirely the basis of their honeymoon.

It was just that Klaus had looked so good spread out on the bed, his skin damp from their shower, his back arching as his hands gripped the slats of the headboard as Diego had ruined him with his fingers and mouth, making him beg with increasing desperation. And yeah, it might have been eight years together, but Diego hadn't been able to say 'no' to Klaus, not since he'd finally surrendered that freezing night and shown Klaus just how badly Diego had wanted him for all of those years.

He wasn't sure what time it had been when they'd finally collapsed, but he knew his nineteen-year-old self would have been proud of the effort. Klaus had barely kept his eyes open long enough for clean up. Diego tried not to feel too pleased at that.

Klaus shifted forward and Diego kissed him, uncaring of morning breath. Klaus melted against him, his arms coming up around Diego's neck, impatient and—

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Klaus cried, jolting away from Diego. "I told you not to do that! It's my goddamn honeymoon, cut me some slack!" 

Klaus was silent again but Diego could tell from his exasperated expression that Ben was talking. Klaus flipped off the empty space behind him, and rolled over again, trying to divert his and Diego's attention back to this when—

"Ugh, you're the worst person I've ever met," Klaus groaned, resting his head against Diego's shoulder.

Diego patted the top of Klaus' head.

"Ben says that we had enough nakedness last night." Klaus' voice was muffled. "It's my honeymoon, asshole! Sex is the name of the game here!"

"I'm not averse to going out and doing something though. What did you have in mind?" Diego had stopped feeling weird talking to the empty space in front of him a few years ago.

Klaus' glare was poisonous. "Are you really siding with him? Now?"

Diego shrugged.

"I'm not averse to asking for a divorce," Klaus huffed.

Diego grinned. "But you wouldn't. You love me."

"Sometimes against my better judgement."

Diego's grin widened. "I'll make you French toast?"

Klaus perked up. "With actual maple syrup? Not that monk fruit crap?"

"With actual maple syrup. No monk fruit here, as far as I know."

Klaus narrowed his eyes at him, evaluating, and then looked over his shoulder again at where Ben had to be.

"Fine," Klaus eventually sighed. "But I want it on the record that I'm negotiating with frogs."

[i-write-sometimes-blog]

Grounded (Rey x Reader Highschool AU)

Request: I was wondering if you could do a high school Au Rey imagine where the Solo kids are grounded and Rey comes by the house so the reader tries to sneak out but Kylo catches her by anon.

Words: 1,453

A/N: This takes place immediately after Poe's party.

A/N 2: I spent the whole day procrastinating, but the plan was to update two shots but anyways, hope you like this little thing.

The door sounded louder than you would have liked when Ben opened it carefully. You saw him placing a finger over his lips as he looked at you over his shoulder, a sign to stay quiet as you followed him inside the house.

You moved through the house in the darkness, with help just the soft light of the moon. You followed your brother closely and you trusted him guiding you across the living room until you saw the stairs and you smiled feeling the tension in your body leaving. You only needed to get upstairs and rush to your rooms and you'd be safe.

Ben pointed at the ceiling with his finger "up, now" he seemed to said and you started your way upstairs.

"Not so fast, Y/N." Said a voice making you freeze right where you were. You shut your eyes closed cursing inside your head as you turned around.

"Hi, mom." You said meeting her gaze. She turned the lights on.

"Do you even know what time is it?" She asked in a very angry yet calm way, you didn't dare to answer her question. "It's 4 AM"

Your eyes met your brother's eyes for a moment and he gave you a small wink.

"Ben, you were supposed to bring her early." Your mother said looking at him.

"It is early. Very early, actually, if you ask me" Ben told her and you tried your best not to laugh.

"You're clearly your father's son" she scoffed "Why did you come so late? I want Y/N to answer this one, not you, Ben" she said staring at him.

"Didn't notice the time. Sorry, mum" you told her.

"I expected this from him but never from you" Leia told you.

"Won't happen again"

"No, of course not" she stood up of her seat and walked towards her office at the end of the hallway. "You're grounded".

"What!?" Your voice showed how surprised you were. Ben's laugh made you eyed him a bit angry.

"Sorry, I seriously never thought I'd see the day you get grounded" he explained to you. "Well, Y/N, mom, goodnight" he said and he was about to go to his room but your mother stopped him.

"Ben, that goes to you too." She said. Your brother was pretty much used to be grounded for all the disasters he got himself into, from ending up in a fight to being caught skipping class, somehow he always ended up in trouble.

“For how long?” he asked rolling his eyes.

“A month.”

“A month!?” you shouted, “Mom, that’s not fair. It’s a lot of time, I have plans!” you had promised Rey to take her to some places you liked.

“You should thought that before, Y/N.” she said “No parties, not friends can come, you can’t go out. I want both of you here immediately after school.”

"Fuck!" Ben growled.

"Language!" Your mother snapped and spoke with her voice now more filled with rage. “And you can thank goodness I’m not gonna tell your father about this!.” she shouted. Han had threatened Ben to send him to a military school if he didn’t behave.

"I have a meeting in the Congress in about three hours and I haven't sleep because you two were out there partying, so I would really appreciate it if you just go to your rooms." continued Leia, then she turned around and made her way to her office.

*****

“She really said that?” asked surprised the voice of your girlfriend from the other side of the call. “I can’t picture your mom being angry, she’s always so kind.” Rey said.

“Well, trust me baby, you don’t want to see her angry” you chuckled sitting in your bed, you’ve been talking with her about an hour now, filling her with all the details of your arrival home after Poe’s party.

“Do you think she really meant it? You’ll be inside a whole month?” she said.

“Nah, usually she frees Ben after a couple days” you explained “But she seemed very pissed so I’ll have to spend at least a week or so.”

“So… what now?”

“I don’t know.” you told her “This certainly ruin our plans, sorry.”

“Hey! Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. I can still see you at school.” she said and the she went silent, you didn’t need to see her face to know she already had an idea in mind.

“Rey, you still there?” you asked smiling.

“Yeah” said Rey “I have to go now, I promise to call later.” she said enthusiastically. “Love you.”

“Love you, Rey.” you said with the wide smile on your lips that those words caused in you every time you heard them, then you hanged the phone.

The time seemed to pass in painful slow motion inside the house. Usually in a weekend like this you would find yourself somewhere in the city with Rey, exploring new places or simply studying together and though it was something very new for you to go out almost every day you were used to it. This was going to be a really rough month.

You kept your phone close waiting for Rey to call again and save you from the boriness, longing to hear her voice again or even see her face. You couldn’t wait until monday to see her again, it was a real torture.

Then the screen of your phone lighted with a picture of Rey and you in the Homecoming dance as it started to ring.

“How’s it going?” was the first thing you heard as you pick up the call.

“I think I’m already losing it” you told her chuckling “I don’t think I’m going to survive this.” you said.

“Shouldn’t Han be coming this week?” she asked out of the blue, Rey and your father were good friends, so it was a commun think to ask.

“No, his schedule changed. He will be out for at least three weeks more” you answered a bit upset, you missed your father. “It’s just Ben and me”

“And your mother?” she asked and it confused you a little bit.

“She had a meeting in Congress, so she’ll be coming late.”

“Great!” she said, her voice sounded both relieved and excited. “Grab a jacket, it’s a bit chill today.”

“What you mean, babe?” you laughed.

“Y/N, look at the window.” she said. You felt the exciting building inside you as you took a look and found her outside the house waving at you. “Are you still wearing your pijama? It’s almost two o’clock” she teased and you just laughed. “Hurry up!”

“Sweetheart, you know nothing would make me happier than to go with you right now, but I’m grounded.” you told her. You saw her rolling her eyes before she spoke again.

“Stop acting like a baby and come down already.” she said. Biting down you bottom lip, weighing your possibilities. The idea of sneaking out with Rey made your body fill with excitement, what was life without a little risk after all?.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” you told her and watched how a satisfied smile crossed her face before she ended the call.

When you were ready you left your room as quiet as possible, carefully checking on the room of your brother, the door was gladly closed so you made your way down stairs rushing to the door only to find him next to the door.

“Shit!” you gasped when his eyes caught you. Ben looked confused to see you but then he smirked as he discovered what was going on.

“Going somewhere?” he said.

“I can ask you the same question.” you told him and you saw him laughing as he shook his head. “You got grounded just last night and you’re already sneaking with her, I’m impressed.” he told you before he opened the door for you. “Go” he winked.

“Seriously?” you asked not really knowing if he was joking or not. “You won’t tell mom?”

“Nah, just be here early.” he said and you walked past him before you hurried to Rey waiting for you outside. “You’re becoming a very bad influence for my sister!” he playfully yelled to Rey.

“Not worse than you!” she told him, Ben limited himself to close the door without another word making you both burst laughing. Rey greeted you with a small kiss before she placed one of her arms around your shoulders to guide you away from your home.

“I can’t believe I’m disobeying mom” you chuckled.

“Well, I guess you finally honor the nickname she gave you.” she told you grinning “Little Rebel, I like it. Now let’s get out of here”

Tagging: @1-800-depressedlesbian , @xgaygremlinx

(In case you want to be tagged for specific things or everything I write, just let me know)

[danyka-fendyr]

Don’t Call Me Pumpkin

Hey everyone! So, I’m determined to put out my promised 3 Spencer Reid Halloween fics, but also I’m a lazy hoe. Which brings us to where we are now. Me, watching The Haunting of Hill House, writing a Spencer Reid Halloween fic that takes place on a pumpkin farm. Because I desperately want to go to a pumpkin farm even though there is not one even anywhere remotely near me because I live in one of the sunniest places in the world now and pumpkins would DIE here. This has not been edited. Fight me.

Wordcount: 1681

Permanent Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli

Warnings: None. All fluff. A little bit of innuendo.

“Spence, seriously, where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere fun,” he promised.

“C’mon. At least give me a vague statistic for a hint baby.” 

You fussed with the blindfold Spencer had reluctantly put on you. He hadn’t wanted to, but you had been more than up for it since you loved a good surprise. Spencer rarely surprised you, so you knew the surprise factor had to be important to him. Hence one of his purple ties currently being on your face.

“Okay.” You could hear him blushing from being called baby. “Over 800 million of what we’re going to see are currently available in the U.S.”

“Oh my gosh you’re taking me to a strip club?”

“No!” Spencer frantically objected.

You laughed. “I was kidding, Spence. I know that’s not your thing. You prefer blindfolds, right?”

You wiggled your partially obscured eyebrows.

“Sweetheart,” he whined.

“Hey, you know there’s no judgment from me. I hate handcuffs, so we’re even. But seriously, are we almost there?” 

“Yeah, we are. Just a couple more minutes.”

You could hear gravel crunching under the wheels of the car, and you were forced to wonder once again where you were. Knowing your boyfriend, he could have taken you anywhere. He was almost never spontaneous, which only served to make his spontaneity more so. After a few moments, you felt the car come to a stop, and you couldn’t contain your grin.

“Are we here?”

“Your use of the present tense on the word here would indicate that you already know we are, in fact, here.”

“You’re right, I do. Now get me out of this car so we can do a dramatic blindfold removal!”

Spencer laughed before coming over to your side of the car and opening the door for you, taking your hand and helping you out. He placed his hands on your shoulders, steering you forward towards wherever he planned on taking off this blindfold, while you didn’t even bother trying to contain your smile. It smelled like dirt, and you had a few theories as to where you might be.

“Okay, are you ready?” He asked.

“No. There’s one more thing I want to do before you take off the blindfold. Can you turn me around?”

Confused, Spencer did as you asked, and you carefully placed your hands on his face so you had an idea of where you were going before you leaned forward and kissed him. Tasted like coffee and cinnamon, just like he always did. You could do this all day, but you had a surprise to get to, so you pulled back.

“What was that for?”

“So I could see if I liked it.” You shrugged.

“...Well? Did you?” He asked.

“Baby, I always like kissing you. Now let’s do this thing.”

“Okay pumpkin,” he said.

Every fiber in your body stiffened as it hit you. Spencer never called you pumpkin. You had to drive a while, certainly long enough to get out of the city. It smelled like fresh dirt.

At the same moment he removed the blindfold, you yelled, “Babe! Don’t call me pumpkin!”

You pouted, glaring over your shoulder at his handsome, handsome face.

“I waited until we were here!” He justified.

“Still ruined the whole surprise.” You sighed, staring out at the vast fields of pumpkins before you.

“Is it ruined if I say we can pick out any pumpkin you want?”

You gasped, suddenly giddy. “Can we get multiple pumpkins?”

“Whatever you want, love.”

“I love you!” You threw your arms around him, letting him catch you.

He laughed, setting you down again after a moment. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You two made your way through the pumpkin patches, and you both inspected every pumpkin that came your way. You had gone pumpkin hunting with Spencer before, so you knew how this worked. He was looking for a pumpkin that matched certain characteristics he had in mind, the most halloweeny pumpkin, the pumpkin to rule over all other pumpkins if you will. You, on the other hand, were looking for something a little bit less exact. You were on the hunt for your pumpkin.

You never knew what it was going to look like, but every year, you went in search of the pumpkin that was right for you. It called to you, in all of its sweet orange glory, a bright beacon in the midst of all of these other pedestrian pumpkins. It was somewhere in this field, waiting for you to find it. Your pumpkin soulmate, if you will, ready to be taken home with your more human soulmate.

“Do you see anything?” Spencer asked you.

Some years, you found your pumpkin in the first sweep of the fields. You would see it and you would just immediately know. Last year had been one of those years, and Spencer had come to dread them since they meant him wandering a pumpkin patch with a very heavy pumpkin in his arms that you insisted was your baby and that no one else could have. This year was not to be one of those years though.

“No. Not yet. Which is kind of a bummer since I was hoping to check you out. I didn’t get to stare at you in the car like I usually do. My day feels incomplete without a chance to drool over you. I’ve been deprived.”

Spencer blushed. He was so easily flustered. It was one of the things you had loved about him, even before you started dating. The cute little way his ears would turn red and he would stare down at his feet, fix his tie. Today he wasn’t wearing a tie though, instead, just a sweater that you knew was very, very soft from all the times you had stolen it from him. 

“C’mon silly. Let’s go look for your elusive pumpkin.”

“You’re deflecting Dr. Reid,” you sing-songed.

“I am not deflecting, I am prioritizing. Can you think of anything more important than pumpkins right now?”

“You.”

An easy answer, and it made him blush again. It was going to be a great day.

It was set to be a great day regardless though. The sky was the perfect shade of cloudless, washed-out blue, almost gray, and the air was perfectly crisp. The dirt in the pumpkin patch was exactly the right consistency between dry and muddy, and overall, conditions seemed to be perfect. Plus Spencer knew how cold you got and made sure you had dressed appropriately.

You two wandered through the pumpkin fields for hours. It took Spencer a long time to find his pumpkin. He was pretty hardcore about exactly how long the vine had to be. You put him to shame though.

“Seriously love? Nothing yet?” Spencer said around a rather rotund pumpkin.

“No. But we’re close. I can feel it.” 

You had been saying this for the past three hours since you had arrived.

“All I’m saying is, maybe we could take a break. I could take this guy back to the car, we could buy some apple cider...I hear it’s really good here.”

Your boyfriend’s persuasion meant nothing to you though, as you stopped dead in your tracks.

“That’s it.”

“What, the apple cider?”

“No, Spence, that’s it!” You said excitedly, pointing at one of the many orange gourds in the patch. “That’s the one!”

“Oh thank goodness,” Spencer huffed, adjusting the pumpkin already in his arms.

You beamed proudly at a rather large pumpkin. You might not be able to carry it, actually. You should have gotten a wheelbarrow, but you hadn’t exactly thought this through. It was incredibly round, but not too round, not quite preternaturally so. It’s vine was cut quite close, which you weren’t generally fond of, but you liked on this particular pumpkin. It looked a little dinged up, but you didn’t mind. It was the one.

“What are you going to name it?” Then, before you could answer. “Might I suggest Curbit?”

“Spence, my darling, I love you more than life itself, but that name sounds like Kermit the frog if he was a traffic cop.”

“It’s a shortening of Cucurbita Pepo, the technical name for pumpkin,” Spencer said, sounding slightly offended by your description of his name.

“Tell you what, next year I’ll name my pumpkin Curbit and you can name yours Pep, but this guy? This guy is a Gourdy.”

“Gourdy? You sure?”

“Yep. Positive.”

“Okay.” Spencer grinned at you over the top of his pumpkin.

“Now I just have to survive carrying him out of here.”

It wasn’t easy carrying Gourdy out of the pumpkin patch. It involved a lot of huffing and puffing from both of you since Spencer was still carrying his own pumpkin which he had named Peter. Eventually, though, you made it out and got yourself a wheelbarrow so that you could continue browsing your selection of gourds.

You and Spencer bought several different various other gourds, less picky in your pursuit of these. They would probably just end up eaten at the end of the day, so looks mattered less than potential taste. When you were finished though, you were more than satisfied with your selection.

“So, did you have fun today?” Spencer asked, wheeling your purchases back to the car.

“Um, heck yeah!”

“Good. I was hoping that would be a good surprise.” He smiled at you.

“It definitely was.” You picked up your pumpkin, setting it securely in the back of Spencer’s car before sticking your hand securely in Spencer’s back pocket. You absolutely adored the surprised look that crossed his face before fading into a very smug smirk. He leaned forward to kiss you, pulling you closer with one hand while the other tangled into your hair.

“Hey,” he said. “You know what I think we should do when we get home?”

You grinned, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. “Pumpkin carving?”

Spencer shook his head, laughing at you before detaching himself and putting his own pumpkin in the back of the car. “Yeah, pumpkin. That’s exactly what I think we should do.”

[fyrapartnersearch]

dedicated, literate & long-term rps :)

Hello! I'm going to make this fairly short (or at least try to haaA). I am looking for 1-2 new rp partners! I work two jobs and have a pretty active lifestyle so please understand this is a hobby for me. My posting speed ranges from once every couple of days to once every week or so, but I'll always let you know when I'm busy or hitting roadblocks. I am almost always available ooc though, esp through discord. I am in my mid-twenties and prefer my partners to be 23+.

I love detailed plots and stories; crafting good posts is a huge part of why I love rping. I match/mirror my partner’s length and put a high amount of importance on compatibility as writers. Good grammar, punctuation, spelling is A Thing for me. I put 110% in. I write fully lit to novella style rps, usually 800-1300 words per reply. If you want a partner that’s invested in writing together and all the joy that brings, I’m your person!

I am looking for original period piece/historical drama roleplays full of drama and angst, fallout related roleplays, roleplays centered on fictional NHL players, and a few more.

what do I write?

I can write f/m and m/m pairings- doesn't really matter to me so long as the plot and characters are compelling. I love smut just as much as anyone but I need a good story and solid character development to go back on. I want to feel something when we write and I hope you do too! I don't have a ton of limits when it comes to kink etc aside from the basic ones, but generally each of the characters I write have varied and different interests and preferences. I'm interested in writing the following fandoms right now:

Transformers personified: Essentially, utilizing characters from the Transformers universe to make characters and stories based off of them/using them in a personified manner. We could depict the war as a political one, or with warring armies, or anything we wanted to do. I'm most familiar with Transformers Prime, and I would be really excited to talk this one over with you!

Disney personified: Similar to the idea above, we take stories/characters and springboard them into our own content and plots. Let's talk it out!

The Outer Worlds: Admittedly I haven't finished the game yet, but I would love to do some character and world building here. Canon characters could be brought in if needed.

Fallout: New Vegas: I can do OCs for this, or I can play several canon characters such as Arcade Gannon, The King, and Cass. Either way, I'd be more than happy to plot with you in this world. I'm also interested in playing out a story related to Fallout 4, where I can play Elder Maxson or Paladin Danse, or we can write OCs.

X-Men: Give me all the plots utilizing Jean Grey or Wolverine, those are my favorite canon characters to write. I can also write OCs. I would also love to play Wolverine against Jean Grey. All in all, I am a happy camper with this one.

The Crown/British Monarchy: I have a niche interest in the British monarchy and figures related to it, specifically George VI, Elizabeth II. I'd love to take the concepts and maybe the figures and write out some stories, historically-based or not, that involve some of the character types, situations and challenges faced. This idea is really flexible and I'd love to do some world-building here!

Mafia 2: I can write a pretty decent Vito Scaletta and I'd love to write him against your OC. We can take the premise and play with it, maybe make a spinoff or a sequel, something like that.

Right now I also have a huge interest in doing period pieces/setting slice-of-life stories in different historical settings. I'd really love to do some plotting together and come up with an intriguing original story. I would love to do stories with the backdrop of the first or second world war, the great depression, the turn of the century, etc etc. I think so many of my plot ideas would be much more interesting placed against different historical settings. I'm most familiar with 1900-1960s backdrops but I would love to explore earlier (little women, or pride and prejudice-esque) eras as well! Pleeease get @ me if you're interested in a healthy dose of history with whatever twists we can come up with :) Here are a few plots/prompts to get started:

**** (m/m) sugar daddy: My oc is a law student studying in your oc’s country in order to get their degree abroad. They’re from eastern Europe and uh. broke af. They settle into an arrangement with your oc where your oc agrees to ~pay him for his company~. We could take it anywhere- your oc could whisk mine off his feet and ‘save’ him or. Be toxic & trashy and make my oc’s life hell.

****(m/m) the guardian: Your oc is a newcomer to the NHL but is quickly making waves- think Connor McDavid style. He’s young and impressive, but mostly, impressionable. he starts to get battered around by both his teammates and opposing teams. After a few hard hits and fowl play within the game that have cost your oc bench and recovery time, the team’s coach calls in reinforcements to boost the team’s morale and serve as a protector to your oc. My oc is a player who hasn’t got the talent part but has got a huge heart. Not to mention… huge hands. Good for makin’ fists. Good for fightin’. My oc protects your oc during the games, coming to your oc’s aid, picking fights for your oc and protecting him on the ice. As such, the two players grow attached to one another.. perhaps too attached for the captain to be comfortable with. Possibilities for a love triangle and other complications, for sure

***(m/m) too good to be true: Our ocs start out in the WHL, both as promising wingers. Their good chemistry is vital to bringing back their team’s success. However, one of our ocs starts to get too attached to the other, and when an NHL draft separates them, one of our ocs is all too eager to cut contact and try to forget. The two excel in their NHL careers without one another, and end up on NHL teams with a history of deep rivalry. Occasionally, the gloves hit the ice, fueled by the tension of unresolved feelings and the pressure of the respective teams to keep up the rivalry. The two are reunited when they are both chosen to play nationally for the same team, and are forced to reconcile what they have both buried so deeply within them.

***(m/m) big money: These two ocs play for rival teams in the nhl. while their teams have a history of tension, our two ocs take it to the next level. Audiences are more excited to watch these two fight than they are to watch the game itself. There’s a market in the violence between these two, and a reputation to maintain on both ends. If the public found out that these two were secretly seeing one another, their careers would both be over.

My oc has serious commitment issues. They often go around leaving individuals after 4-5 dates, with little to no explanation of why. Your oc falls for mine, and is the first to confront my oc about their shitty habits.

Your oc is a huge fan of my oc’s hockey or political career. Your oc wins a contest to meet and have dinner with my oc. While my oc expects a boring night out, my oc is completely surprised by how well they hit it off with your oc.

My oc, your first oc and your second oc all grew up together. Your first oc has always been pining for my oc’s attention, and is thrilled when my oc and your first oc finally get together. They develop a long term relationship, but my oc knows it would devastate your first oc if they told them that they have been seeing your second oc for most of the relationship.

My oc and your oc are in an arranged marriage. My oc is actually a spy on your oc's national government. Espionage, reconnaissance, and betrayal abound.

My oc is royalty (think British monarchy) and yours is, absolutely not; either a reporter, a soldier, maybe a business person. My oc has taken interest in yours as a friend to keep them grounded... or as a thin veil for a romance that absolutely no one would approve of.

As for general OC ideas, here’s a list:

OC superheroes

street racing, fast-and-furious-esque setting

small town canadiana or americana

fun, fluffy romance based modern settings

light worldbuilding - new to this but wanting to learn

WWI / WWII history based

something based around the Titanic (I know, so cheesy)

alternate history — I would love to work on doing some worldbuilding with you and creating some kind of retro-futuristic alt history IE fallout before the nukes dropped.

honestly whatever you can pitch to me that isn’t high fantasy :)

I can expand on and work with any of these ideas, these are just topics. Whatever I do with you, I promise it’ll be fleshed out, with tons of opportunity for drama.

how do we get started?

Pleaaase send me an email at ehmmywrites@gmail.com or add me on discord at emmy/#5091 ! I will get back to you asap, but please give me some of your thoughts/an idea of why/what you’d like to write with me! I can write over discord or email or both. We can sort out the brass tacks there and figure out if we’re a good match. :) Thanks for your time and I hope I hear from you!

[miyomiikonran]

Whumptober Day 1

Extra rules: Each short story will be between 500-1000 words and will include at least one of my or @ironic-artist's OCs.

Today's theme: Let's hang out sometime

Choosen prompt: Shackled

Universe: Criminal/mafia au

Character: Takashi

Trigger warnings: -

Word count: ~800

For more notes please look at the end!

___________________________________________

Routine always means something else for everyone. For some, it's what they hate the most- repeatable tasks mindlessly done everyday, often bringing only boredom and fatigue. Wake up, take shower, eat breakfast in hurry and then spend most of your day in work or school, only to do the same thing all over again tommorow. For others, it's the sign of stability they yearn for. Everyday's the same, no trouble can suprise you and stress you out, if you know exactly what's gonna happen next.

Takashi was neither of those. Routine of any kind had almost no place in his current life. Almost, excluding one particular event that kept repeating... Banging on the door, which was always waking him up at early morning. He knew what's gonna happen the moment he heard that, so he just followed up, opened the door. Same faces, same kind of deal. Dress up, take his wallet and put on some shoes while the guys wait for him. Once again he gets fancy bracelets on his wrists and a free ride to friendly neighbourhood police station.

Man knew the drill just as good as officers knew him. He was ending up in arrest once a month on avarage, but not even once they managed to keep him for longer. Always a suspect, never proved guilty, never enough evidence for that. Even unusual, albino-like appearance didn't make it easier. Fingerprints? Never matched. Video surveilance? Either none of cameras would reach crime scene or it wasn't functional at the time. Nothing suspicious was ever found at his flat or by his side if they catched him outside. Only witnesses would sometimes provide description that would match, but it wasn't enough when they rarely were able to see face in details. Not even the most determined, or maybe pissed off officers had much hope left at this point... Everyone knew he was suspicious and who knows if not involved in some of these cases, but nothing could be done without evidence to back it up.

What was the worst though, was his attitude. He always refused to answer any questions without counsellor and it was always the same guy coming to help him out, maybe some buddy or something, it seemed like it. Carefree bastard most of the time was taking a nap in his cell before he came! Just like now! Like nothing was happening! Or more like, he was sure nothing will happen.

Albino in cell chuckled quietly hearing how irritated one of officers sounded like while complaining to his coworker, thinking he's already asleep. It was so satisfying to hear. He almost could get used to overall inconvenience if only he could hear more of that each time he ends up arrested. They can look as much as they want. He knew it's all in vain. Boss already took care of anything that could've been left at the scene. Poor, naive dudes had no idea how far his connections could reach… Such a pity. But now it's time for a nap, cus they obviously had to wake him up at 6 o'clock, never even a minute late.

Few hours later, counsellor finally came, with same, indifferent but slightly tired face and so questioning began. Same shit everytime. Name, surname, adress, date of birth. Witness saw you in close area to where the murder occured. What were you doing then and there. Is there anyone who can confirm. Do you know what it is. Nooooope, no idea officer, never seen a broken window in my entire life! Nope, no idea who's that guy. No I never met him. No I didn't broke all of his windows, don't I look like a angel? I was peacefully coming home from club, never been to a party, officer? Could these eyes lie? It was hard to keep straight face seeing him get irritated again. His swinging on chair seemed to work wonders in that matter. Counsellor rolled his eyes and sighed while writing something in his notepad. He always was doing his own notes just in case, no matter how many times it happens. Such perfectionist in his job.

Finally, the happy hour came next day. After court's hearing, he was obviously let go. Just to spite officers a bit more, he waved them on his way out, before he went on his way home. He was right outside his block of flats when his phone called. Boss.

- What's up, did you get worried about me~?

- Very funny. I want you in my office around 8 PM, I have work for you.

- Already? I just got out…- Takashi burked a bit grumpily, his good mood immidiately gone.

- Well, happens. Get some rest, I'll give you more details once you're here.

- Cooool… - he just hung up after it and hid his phone. It's gonna be a long day...

___________________________________________

Oh well, first one was pretty easy as it's Takashi, one of my favs, I talked about him a lot so you can look up his tag if you want. This scene came up in my head as soon as I read prompts, mostly because I had it planned for a long time already, so it was pretty easy to write. About universe itself, it's pretty much what people usually have in mind when they create all sorts of mafia/criminal AUs. I really wanted to show off Takashi's cockiness and trust in his "Boss". For now it was just a brief mention, but it's Ironic's character Hidemichi, Takashi's long-time friend, which is why he's acting pretty casual towards him. You can check him out at Ironic's page. For now, I can promise they're gonna appear again pretty soon~ c:

Also, just to be clear, I'm no writer and this is purely for fun. I'm aware it's not really good quality material.