#I won't lie the positive messages piss me off. As well.

[theglizzardwizard]

Thats just true.

[libraryraccoon]

I saw the Floyd request and I thought of rook hunt in hasbin hotel.

Rip Alastor his privacy he now became the hunted the both speaking French .

Imagine rook talking about angel dust his inner beauty is making him feel loved every day saying something positive.

And Charlie and vaggie getting put on romantic dates by rook and lucifer and rook seeing them ta about how beautiful love is.

Gender : GN

Pronouns : no real pronouns used(sometimes they/them)

Character : Alastor, general headcanon

Message from Raccoon : I was also thinking of a rook!reader while writing the Floyd!Reader tbh.

TW : ROOK!READER, a little suggestive

The Demon Of Hunt, a very strong overlord who knows everything about everyone. A predator whose prey are doomed to die.

They aren't a demon you want to mess with, you don't want to be their prey.

In their lifetime a very famous hunter living in a small village, in their death The Demon Of Hunt, the hunter everyone is afraid of.

Alastor

He met you when he was still killing overlords.

“Now, isn��t that a rather crude way of killing ?” You asked behind him.

How long have you been behind Alastor ? He has no idea.

“Oh ! And what a beautiful deer tail you have there ! C'est magnifique !” You say, touching Alastor's deer tail; ignoring the fact that you had just seen him kill an overlord.

He straight up hated you.

But he also found you interesting, especially when you could see through all his attacks.

Boring, but entertaining.

After that, you didn't let him go.

You followed him, stalking him, wherever he went.

Like a predator with its prey, observing it before killing it.

When he left for 7 years, he finally thought he had lost you…

You followed him.

For 7 fucking years he had to stay with you.

Even 8V>× didn't want to make a contract with you after seeing how weird you were.

Not to mention all the times you talked about love…

*add a disgusted Alastor*

You interfered in his life and never left, even though he tried to reject you.

And let's not even talk about your strange comments…

"Oh ! I wonder what red deer would taste like for dinner ! Or maybe a red wendigo ! Qu'en pense tu, Alastor ?"

“Red deer ?” *remembers that he is, technically, some sort of red deer/wendigo as a demon.* "Ha ha ! Stay 100km/h away from me."

When you arrived at the hotel, Alastor finally felt free ! After all his years of being the stolkant, you finally left him alone !

Well, not always, after all you would never leave your prey friend alone for too long, but you weren't with him all the time.

Alastor won't lie, not being with you 24/7 after so long was weird…

He finally had privacy-

100% complained to Rosie about you.

“And they never gave me space !” -Alastor

"Really ?" -Rosie

"Well, I'll give him some time alone. For the bathroom." -Rook!Reader, arriving out of nowhere behind Alastor.

Although Alastor considers you as a menace, there are times when he is grateful to you and to be your friend.

Like those rare times of weakness, when you helped him feel better, reassured him. It was the rare times he was grateful to have you as a friend.

I just know that when you want to talk about something private/you don't want others to hear you, you speak French.

Although sometimes you just do it to piss off other people.

"Mon cher cerf préférer ! Al' ! Je viens de découvrir quelque chose sur Vox, tu vas pas y croire !"

"Je vais préparer le thé, après tu me racontera."

You turn all Overlord meetings from boring to interesting meetings.

During meetings, you had the habit of telling everyone's secrets (except Alastor's secrets, bestie privilege), and always the most interesting ! Like this time you said you saw Carmilla decapitate an exterminator !

*After the song Respectless.* "Actually, mes chers amis, it is possible, or not, that I saw Carmilla decapitate an exterminator with her shoes. C'était un combat splendide !"

General Headcanon

You don't let anyone have privacy.

They know it, but they can't say anything.

Angel Dust suffered the most of that, he saw you during one of his shoots watching him in the shadows.. It was terrifying.

“Just try to be sexy.” -Valentino looking at Angel Dust during a shoot.

"Oh, mais mon cher, he's sexy enough like this ! Take off the underwear and people will love it !" -Rook!Reader behind Valentino, coming out of nowhere.

"MOTHERFUCKER-" *Add Valentino's scream of terror.*

You comforted Angel after each shoot, cheering him up in a more or less suspicious ways.

You call Angel Dust by his real name, Anthony. You are the only one in the hotel who knows his real name and calls him like that.

Angel Dust is sort of happy that someone thinks of him as Anthony and not Angel Dust.

Valentino hates you, as do all Vees and all the demons.

Lucifer found you weird the first time he meet you, and knowing your reputation, it was normal, but in the end you got along really well.

You 🤝 Lucifer = make Charlie and Vaggie have romantic dates by candlelight.

“Ah, youthful love ! Que c'est beau !”

“I miss the love of youth..” (in a dramatically way)

Did I mention that you and Lucifer are and always will be drama queens ?

You and Lucifer are just THAT bestie duo that everyone wants to be.

I can so see you having these dinners for two in fancy restaurants while being platonic. You say the most romantic things, speaking in French, and Lucifer joins you in those moments, doing the same.

"Oh, mon chéri, you look beautiful tonight ! Even more brilliant than usual !"

"Oh, I should be the one to tell you that ! You look beyond stunning tonight in that costume !"

You are trending on the networks.

Every. Fucking. Days.

On the networks, there are 3 teams; those who ship Lucifer x Rook!Reader, those who ship Alastor x Rook!Reader, and those who say you are a hopelessromantic and/or aromantic.

They have hilarious debates that you love to join for just fuck all and everyone.

"Well, it's true that Monsieur Alastor is quite handsome, but Lucifer ? Oh, je ne sais même pas ou commencer a son sujet !" -Rook!Reader on the networks screwing up between the teams, always changing the place between Lucifer and Alastor.

You are a star in all the circles of hell fr.

One day, Charlie asked you if you were dating her father after seeing what you were doing/writing on internet.

You answered some shit like "As much as I would love to be with him, je ne pourrais qu'en rêver. He is far too good and handsome man for a simple sinner like me."

Vaggie doesn't trust you, not in a million of eons.

Sir Pentious asked if you had a death wish after he saw you touch Alastor's deer ears…

"Oh, to die by the hand of such a magnifique et servant gentleman ! What an honor that would be !"

Sir Pentious has never seen Alastor back away from someone so fast before-

Niffty like you. You regularly complimented her on her work and her beauty.

Husk, on the contrary, doesn't like you.

He had to endure you and Alastor's shit for too long, 7 years without both of you wasn't enough.

You intrude into people's intimate moments.

And by people, I mean Husk and Anthony.

Imagine Husk and Angel Dust, just being quietly alone, a super romantic moment, and then, you pop in between the two…

But sometimes when you compliment them (one time per day), they like you.

I like to think that the Tik Tok hell version is like the one of the living, with people doing random ship. And Rook!Reader live for that.

[xpeachesncream]

restart | four

[ SEQUEL TO PERFECTLY WRONG ] | [ series masterlist ]

summary: as you and taehyung start to build your life together post graduation, things become more complicated than what you expected it to be. while taehyung struggles with his inner demons, you’ve become the sole supporter, the pillar, juggling different jobs to keep you two afloat. your love for each other has been put to the test as your relationship continues to face hurdles - hurdles that have you questioning whether or not your relationship will make it through.

pairing: reader x fiancé!kth

genre: post grad au, established relationship au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 4.8k

warnings: cussing/mature language, jealousy, lots of insecurities and overthinking, angst, crying, bar scene, alcohol consumption, flashback scene in the middle of the chapter, a lil sprinkle of fluff, implied sexual content, bickering/arguments

note: honestly, this was ALSO not supposed to get this long but like… 🙃 here we are lol

tags: @enchantaeduniverse​ @thedarkwinterrose​ @sapphirejeon​ @jwlmnbt​ @bluesharksandfish​ @ra-mun-e @brightcolorsoffendme​ @jungcrookthecookbook​ @sunniejinnie​ (please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"Okay, I think that's it." You said, hands on your hips as you and Jungkook walked through your door for the final time.

"What are you selling, the world?" He huffs and puffs.

"For someone who works out often, you complain a lot." He rolls his eyes playfully.

"Where's Tae?"

"Sleeping still." He nods.

"Oh, okay. Ready to go then?" You nodded silently as you grabbed your bag to hitch a ride to the café with Jungkook since he was working today. He starts to talk about the girl who works with you two and how he thinks she's a little cutiepie. He has such a silly crush on her that his cheeks are lightly rose tinted every time he talks about certain encounters they've had. You're happy to see him happy, and you tell him to keep pursuing it since she's a super sweet girl. However, part of you is sad solely because you couldn't say you were 100% happy at this moment. You wish you were, but these problems were hindering you from feeling complete. You just wanted to get past this page in the book.

As soon as you both get to the cafe, you start unloading his trunk and getting everything inside. Jungkook claims he has the last two bags covered, so you walk to the back and take breather just to gather yourself before setting up. But you truly didn't expect to lose it right then and there.

"Okay! I got all the— Y/N?" Jungkook instantly worries when he sees you crying into your hands in the backroom and hurries over to you. "Hey, woah. What's going on?" He gets in front of you, gently trying to pry your hands off of your face.

"Fuck, I'm sorry." You continue to cry as he successfully removes your hands from your face.

"Sorry for what? What's going on?" He wipes your tears with his sweater and lifts your chin to look at you in the eye.

"Nothing."

"The day barely started and you're already crying in the backroom." He says softly. "Don't try and lie to me."

"I just don't know what's going on between me and Tae and it's stressing me out."

"What's going on? Same stuff?" You nod, tears still streaming down your cheeks. You tell him about how he had been super weird about taking Jimin's help and how you both got into a huge argument about it. Then, you told him how last night ended [sparing your poor bestfriend the details] and how you couldn't help but feel used because he simply dismissed you, which is very unlike Taehyung when it comes to arguments and disagreements. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I know he's going through a rough time, but Tae also needs to respect you and look at you as his partner, not someone who's also attacking him or against him. Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No." Simply, no. Because you never get your friends involved like that. You just don't, no matter how much they wanna help. "He looks at me like I am, especially after this whole Jimin thing. I don't wanna say it's stupid because I don't wanna discredit his feelings, but god. Like, should I just do this on my own? Tell Jimin to forget it?"

"No." Jungkook shakes his head. "You're already getting a good start on your goals, Y/N. Don't let that go because of everything going on. Give him some time and space."

"I have been. For awhile now." You sat, feeling completely defeated already, tears still coming down your cheeks.

"Here, I'll go set up and I can take over the table for a bit. I'll ask Isabella if she can cover for a quick second." He stands in front of you, hands out to help support you as if you had lost your footing.

"No, I'll be fine—"

"Y/N, just sit. Okay?" He gives off a small sigh. "Just sit for a second and let yourself take a breather." He gently sits you down and makes sure you don't get up by slowly backing away from you.

"Kook, this isn't Marco Polo."

"I'm just trying to make sure you don't run off because you're stubborn!"

"Hey!" Isabella comes running in, a little confused as to what's happening.

"Hey, can you cover me at the front for a bit?" Jungkook stands back upright in a normal position to ask her sweetly, hands tucked behind his back as he bounced on his feet. This boy.

"Yeah, of course Jungkook." She blushes.

"Thanks. I'll be right back." He gives you a quick look before dashing off. You lay your head onto your arms as they rest on the table, a small headache forming at the center of your forehead.

"You okay, Y/N?" Isabella asks softly as she puts her things away.

"Yeah, sorry. Just a really weird day yesterday."

"I'm sorry." You feel her hand caress your back. "Let me know if you need anything, okay?" She says before shuffling herself out of the room. To be honest, you had no idea what was going on with you, and why you were feeling this way. You were just so sick and tired. Sick and tired of being sick and tired.

This was slowly taking a toll on you, and you weren't even sure if Taehyung realized what he was doing was hurting you in the process.

He can't say he does.

Tae set the weights down back onto the rack aggressively before sitting on the bench, watching Jimin finish his set. They had been working out after lunch, Jimin calling him shortly after Taehyung had fully woken up.

"Are you gonna go to the café after this?" Tae shrugged.

"I don't know, Y/N said she didn't need help and wouldn't be there all day."

"You won't even visit for a bit?" Jimin asks. Usually Tae was rushing to get back to you, but he knew everything that had been going on had been affecting your relationship to an extent.

"We'll see."

"You two coming to the bars tonight then?"

"What are we celebrating again?"

"Nothing. Just getting together like old times. I told Kook, Hobi and Yoongi. They're down." Tae nodded.

"Joon, too?"

"Joon, too."

"Me and Y/N will probably go but I don't think we'll stay long. She has to do that thing at the school—" He scratched his head. "The thing— the exhibit and talking to incoming art students or whatever." Jimin chuckled at how Tae couldn't get his words out.

"It's not whatever."

"You know that's not what I mean." Tae rolled his eyes at him, annoyed all over again at how Jimin had been kissing your ass lately. Cause fuck, the way Jimin had been painting himself as a knight in shining armor, an angel even, was pissing him the fuck off. It made him feel like he wasn't doing enough to support you, or like you couldn't turn to him for help. He hated that feeling, even though he had been rude as hell and showing it in a different way.

"That's fine. Just come out and hang out for a bit." Jimin sighed as he sat on the bench next to him, drinking some water before placing the bottle back down on the ground. "You two doing okay?"

"Yeah, what makes you think we aren't?" Tae asks, getting defensive. Jimin quickly eyes him, reading his body language. He knew Taehyung so well - so fucking well that he knew almost immediately when things were taking a toll on him. Things liiiike.. his parents. As a prime example. Jimin knew Taehyung and his parents obviously didn't have the best relationship, and he knew he took things to heart whenever his father got on him about stupid shit [just like he did over that dinner]. Taehyung wasn't one to show emotion much; he liked showing people he was mentally tough and that he could handle whatever came his way. For the most part, it was true. But, Jimin and Namjoon also knew he wasn't always like that, especially when it came to things that mattered the most to him - his family and you. Taehyung hated to admit it but his family's opinion of him was important no matter what. He was hard on himself because he wanted them to be proud. He wanted to actually feel like he had been doing something good for once. He was still longing for that feeling no matter what he said or did. It was a never-ending battle; like a plot with no happy ending in sight.

"I'm just asking." Jimin threw up his hands, showing that he wasn't suggesting anything behind the harmless question.

"We're fine. I know she's been stressed lately because of work and her art."

"Mmm."

"It's funny." Taehyung chuckles at himself.

"What's funny?" Jimin laughed a bit, confused.

"I didn't expect to be caught up in her like this. After Hana, messing around with all these girls. She's my fucking fiancé."

"Yeah and you better not fuck that up." Jimin stands to gather his things.

"You sound like my dad." Tae jokes, even though he was pretty offended.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to." Jimin instantly apologizes, knowing everyone had been walking on eggshells around Taehyung lately. "She's a good girl, you've got it good."

Taehyung softly smiles at the thought of you, but he wasn't gonna lie, he was hurt by Jimin's statement. Call him sensitive or whatever, but he wasn't feeling the fact that people were constantly looking at him as a fuck up and hinting at it. It seemed to be a reoccurring theme lately. "You ready?" Tae sighs before grabbing his stuff. They get into his car, departing from the gym to make their way to Jimin's so he can get dropped off before Tae heads home. Taehyung replays yesterday's events in his head, which instantly irks him all over again. But, he has such a soft spot for you that he feels terrible for having been too harsh about it. He was still upset, and he wasn't gonna let up on his feelings. But he knew he should have been better about how he approached it. He knew better than that. He's learned to do better.

➤ FLASHBACK

Taehyung excitedly parks his car at the café to surprise you for your pop up today. He had been working endlessly to finish off finals strongly, and he had been so busy that he hadn't really gotten a chance to help you or support you. He felt terrible about it because you were his babygirl and he wanted nothing but to spoil you for all the hardwork you've been putting in.

He creeps up behind you, bouquet of flowers hidden behind his back. "Excuse me, miss." He says lowly near your ear.

"Holy fuck!" You say as he startles you. "Babe, what the hell! Don't do that!" He laughs.

"What's cookin', goodlookin'?" He wiggles his eyebrows, making you chuckle. "These are for you." He smiles toothlessly as he hands you the pretty bouquet. "And your favorite!" He hands you a Mcflurry cup.

You squeal. "Oreo Mcflurry! Aw, thank you baby." You place a quick kiss on his lips. "But don't ever scare me like that!" You playfully hit his chest, causing him to erupt in laughter.

"You should've seen your face."

"Ha-ha, very funny." You rolled your eyes, causing him to pinch your cheeks.

"How's it going?"

"Welp, I'm almost out for the day." You giggle. "I, uh, may have underestimated." You look down at his hoodie, realizing it was one of the hoodies you had made for a previous collection you sold at Jin's. "Waaaow, cute sweater, who made it?"

"Mm, I don't know if you know her. Her name's Y/N."

"Uh huh?" You nod, hand on your hip, waiting to hear more.

"She stands about this tall." He lowers himself close to the ground, causing you to laugh. "Cute, right? She's beautiful, incredibly smart and sexy. Brilliant visual designer and illustrator. Packed with hella attitude." He pretends to ponder on his thoughts. "I could go on about her, really. She's one of a kind."

"Cute. She must feel lucky." You smile.

"I know, I'd feel lucky if I knew me too." You roll your eyes and playfully hit him. "Ah, I'm kidding." He pulls you into a hug. "I keep this sweater in my trunk."

"Oh, so you keep it in your trunk just for emergency wear?" You sarcastically ask as he holds you from behind.

"Yeah, and cause it's the only sweater I'd choose to wear out of the hundreds I own." You smile up at him. "Mhm, not gonna try and win that one." He places a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek before pulling away. "Show me. How can I help my pretty baby today?"

➤ END FLASHBACK

"Hey, I can't stay out late tonight because of the event tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know." Taehyung says softly.

"Please don't drink too much."

"I wooooooon't." He whines with a small sigh, also slightly offended at that statement. He didn't know what it was, maybe it was the fact that his own father painted him in such a negative light that everything seemed off to him lately. Like people were just out to get him or constantly looking down at him and his actions. A personal attack at who he was. It was slowly piling up for him and he wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.

You prepared a quick dinner while he hopped in the shower. You set his plate aside before taking a look at the mail that had come in today.

Bills, bills and more bills.

You sighed to yourself as it felt like you had just paid things off, but clearly not. Moving into Taehyung's wasn't the greatest idea, being that his space was much more expensive than yours. But, he did have the space you needed for your work. There was money left, but you knew it wouldn't last forever. You hated tapping into your savings and whipping out your credit cards because you wanted to keep yourself clean as much as possible. However, that was proven difficult as of late. It was a sacrifice, especially since Taehyung had cut off his mother's help. Taehyung's pride was such a curse sometimes.

You shook your head, already finalizing the fact that you would deal with it later. You had began to set your things aside for the new student event tomorrow morning. You figured you'd get there early to set up and make your table at neat and cute, so you didnt have to worry much about it right now.

Taehyung comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, hair slicked back and wet. You turn to face him, your eyes wandering down to his chest and bottom area. God, why was he so beautiful? It wasn't fair. You loved him so much that you could crumble even being upset. He talks a whole lot about you being the death of him, when really, this man is going to be the death of you. Truly. There's no debate about it.

Getting to the bar, you both immediately spot your friends in the corner, a huge tower of beer decorating the center of the table. Jimin is the first to stand, coming towards you two with a huge smile on his face.

"Friends!" Jimin yells. "Drink!" He says, holding up two shot glasses.

"Fuck, man." Taehyung says taking the glass. "We just got here."

"So! Y/N needs to be home early remember?" He watches wide-eyed as you two take the shot and make sour faces at each other.

"Okay, I'm good." You say, being that you were the DD tonight. Taehyung could enjoy himself if he wanted to [to an extent], but you definitely needed to be in tip top shape to be a good role model to those incoming art students tomorrow.

Throughout the night, the bar starts to get packed from end to end, you and your friends staying at the table and keeping to yourselves. You could tell Taehyung was crossing the line of pretty fucking drunk, which somewhat bothered you. You literally just told him to take it easy tonight - just for one night - so you could do what you need to do tomorrow.

"Hey." Jimin comes next to you, swinging his arm over your shoulder like he always does. "One more shot?" You give him a toothless smile. Ugh, why the hell not? Your man was drunk, and Jimin had only been helpful lately. You could at least return the favor by taking a shot with him.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You." He smiles. "Your shop. Your art. It'll only go up from here, yeah?" He rose his shot glass up before clinking it against yours and taking it to the neck.

"Mkay, that does it for me." You chuckle. "Thanks for the shot."

"No problem. You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." You looked at your watch. "Should probably get out of here soon, but Tae looks like he's enjoying himself. I don't wanna drag him out of here."

"We can just bring him home." You shake your head worriedly.

"I don't wanna leave without him." Jimin chuckles and looks over at Taehyung.

"He'll be okay and you'll be just fine tomorrow. Besides, you can make up all the bullshit in the world to tell the incoming students, they'll believe it either way."

"That's mean." You chuckle.

"Come. Let's dance!" Jimin says, leading the way to the empty space near the table. Everyone gets up to dance, Taehyung slipping himself behind you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

"Can I at least get one minute with my lady without Jimin interrupting?" He says in your ear.

"Taehyung." You flatly say, looking back at him.

"That's your mad face." He holds you tightly from behind as he sways you from side to side.

"I'm not mad."

"Mhm." He kisses the back of your head. "Why don't you have fun with me for a little? We'll go home after this." You couldn't even stay mad at him, with that fucking frustratingly handsome face of his. He was definitely drunk though, you could smell the whiskey lingering on his breath as he danced with you for a bit. You let him be, just so you wouldn't trigger anything within drunk Taehyung. Everyone around you was having a good time, the feeling of nostalgia hitting you pretty hard. You missed the days where you could get together and go to parties after a long week of school. Or, when you would tease the fuck out of Taehyung as his fuckbuddy during parties, or at the clubs. You know, before graduation and responsibilities happened.

But as one hour turned into two, and two turned into three, you found yourself getting restless. It was nearing 2AM and you had to be at the school by 8am - even earlier just to set your table up. You made your way to the bathroom, hoping Tae would get the point and start getting himself ready to leave.

Right.

Once you were out the bathroom, he'd realize you had been gone for a little and start saying his goodbye's. He'd realize time got to the best of him. Right?

"It's a fucking good time tonight!" Jimin tells Namjoon, laughing with him as he watches Joon act a fool with his dance moves.

"I'm sure it is, since you've been in Y/N's space the entire night." Taehyung says it jokingly, but he doesn't realize it only comes off that way in his head. Jimin furrows his brows at him, his high quickly dying with Taehyung's unnecessary comment.

"Don't start with all that. Not tonight. Everyone's having a good time--"

"Or what, Jimin?" Taehyung chuckles like the petty ass he can be. "You know it's true. Don't you think it's a little disrespectful to be crossing boundaries?"

"Hey, let's step back for a bit." Jungkook lightly tugs on Taehyung's arm as he hears the conversation going south quickly. But Taehyung breaks from his grip, stepping forward towards Jimin.

"You really think I would do that to you?"

"Haven't you already? Swinging your arms around her and shit, being all angelic--"

"Tae, come on. That's enough. Don't." Namjoon steps in the middle. "Let's go outside to get some air."

"You really wanna make me look that bad in front of my own girl?" Jimin lightly pushes him away, Taehyung getting too into his space.

"Enough." Namjoon shakes his head, aggressively stepping in the way to create distance. Taehyung shakes his head and walks off, the rest of the group watching as he walks. You finish off in the bathroom, assuming Tae was already getting ready to go. However, you realize your assumption of leaving by the time you're back is absolutely incorrect because when you get to the table, Taehyung is nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Tae?" Kook looks at you frazzled, before his eyes begin to pan the room again.

"Look, don't freak out, but him and Jimin just got into it and he walked off."

"What the hell do you mean they got into it and he walked off?"

"It's nothing, Tae is just drunk—" Kook squeezes your wrist and shakes his head.

"No, it's not just nothing because you and I both know how he's been feeling lately." You run your hand through your hair. "What did he say?"

"He just got into it about Jimin getting close to you lately, and how he felt like he was disrespecting boundaries." You sigh heavily.

"Fuck."

"We have an issue." Namjoon comes back from out of the blue. "He's not around."

"What do you mean?! Where did he go?" You run your hand through your hair.

"Okay, let's not panic." Jungkook tries to relax you. "Let me go check the bathrooms." Namjoon nods as he continues to look around the room.

"Please? We should get home." He nods to you before he's off to check for Tae in the bathroom. You stand near the table awkwardly, worry filling you quickly the more time passes.

"Hey, you okay? What can I do?" Hobi squeezes your arm, his face flushed with a red tint from how tipsy he is. You give him a small, reassuring smile and nod to try and keep calm.

"I honestly don't know anymore, but I'll be good. I think. We're just gonna look for him and head home."

"Is Kookie looking in the bathroom?" You nod. At this point, you catch a glimpse of Jungkook coming back alone.

"Jungkook?"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't find him in there. I swear I tried."

"So, where the hell is he?" Jungkook shrugs.

"Lets check around again. I won't leave until we find him."

"Have you tried to call him?" You had already beaten Yoongi's question, calling Taehyung's phone only to see his phone vibrating and ringing on the fucking table. "Hm, okay. Maybe not."

"Fuck." You snatch Taehyung's phone from the table. "Is he serious right now? It's about to be 2:30AM. How the fuck can he get lost at this time?"

"Y/N just go home, we'll find him and bring him home." Jimin says, coming back from roaming around the place.

"No, I'm not leaving here without him."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen." He says, looking at you in the eye. Although he was pretty fucking pissed, he couldn't help but worry about him either. No matter what, that was still his bestfriend. He didn't want anything to happen to him.

"It's not your fault."

"We need to check around the neighborhood." Jungkook suddenly comes back and grabs your arm. You follow him, Yoongi, Hobi, Namjoon and Jimin outside of the bar, the cold hitting your skin harshly.

"Let's split." Namjoon says. Jimin and Hobi split, Namjoon and Yoongi sticking together to go down a different path. You kept yourself close to Jungkook, knowing there were all sorts of drunk ass men out at this hour and you weren't helping wearing a tiny ass skirt and a deep cut shirt.

"Cutiepie, let me come holla!" A dude yells as he tries to swing his arm around your waist. Jungkook easily pushes him off, glaring at him.

"Back the fuck up." He spits out, your bestfriend coming to your rescue amongst the sea of men you're encountering on the sidewalk right now. He throws his jacket over your shoulders, hoping to shield you from them and the cold. "Your outfit." Jungkook frowns, a little worried.

"I mean, I didn't expect to lose Tae tonight." Once you had gotten to a quieter part of the street, you come from behind to walk beside him. "Where the hell could he have gone?" You whine. You're more worried for his safety and wellbeing right now more than anything and all you wanted to do was find him and bring him home, even though you were slightly worrying about yourself and how things would go tomorrow. You could give him an earful later. It could wait.

"He couldn't have gone far." You both continue down the street, heading towards your car, hoping he may be around the area. Jimin calls to check in, saying him and Hobi hadn't caught sight of him yet, and the same thing goes for Yoongi and Joon. You almost want to cry when you don't see Taehyung near your car, but Jungkook ends up walking further down towards the park near your parking spot. "Y/N! Here!" He calls out, running towards an individual slumped over on their knees on a bench. "Taehyungie?" Jungkook sits next to him and shakes him a bit.

"Shit dude, I just kept walking then I suddenly had no idea where I was at." He drunkily says as you sit next to him and sigh heavily.

"No one said you had to do that, Tae."

"I just needed some air."

"Yeah and look where that got you, it's close to 3AM." You respond, irritated.

"Y/N." Jungkook says softly, shaking his head at you as if he were signaling for you to quit with your attitude. "Let's go back to the car." Jungkook watches him stand up and wobble a bit, but eases up when he realizes Taehyung is capable of walking himself to the car. You three get back safely, letting the others know that you had found him before driving Jungkook back towards the club so he can meet with everyone else. You quickly thank him for his support before driving off to head home.

The car is incredibly cold, and silent.

"Love, I'm sorry. I just needed air and got lost." He breaks the silence.

"I see that." You say softly as you drive home, keeping your eyes glued to the road in front of you.

3:23AM.

"Please don't be mad." He gives your thigh gentle squeeze. "I just got a little into my head tonight." You sighed, gently removing his hand from your thigh.

"Taehyung, I'm your fiancé, I'm doing this with you and only you. Do you even understand how worried I was? You just walked off, without your phone. Without saying anything to me. Just cause you got in your head for no reason."

"I'm sorry." He repeats at a whisper. You don't say anything else for the rest of the drive home. You silently park the car and head to the apartment, Taehyung sluggishly following behind you. He knows you're bothered, knowing it's closing to 3:30AM and you had an early morning. Honestly, he didn't realize how drunk he was until he had gotten himself into that argument with Jimin then got lost, especially without his phone. The fact that he had made you worry and stress like that made him feel terrible, especially after these past few days. You could have easily left, but you didn't leave without him even if it was this late. He instantly just wanted to cuddle you and tell you how sorry he was.

You quietly get ready for bed and line your things up by the door, just so it would be an easy quick and grab as you head out in the morning. You slip yourself into the sheets, Taehyung following shortly after he gets himself ready for bed. He shuts off all the lights and grabs himself a water bottle to sit by his nightstand before slipping in next to you.

"I love you." He whispers against your ear, wrapping his arms around you. But you don't respond. He peeks over to see your eyes shut, silently sighing to himself as he nuzzled his head against the nape of your neck. He knows you aren't fast asleep yet, and it hurts him that you hadn't said it back. You both just knew exactly how to love each other well, but also push each other's buttons. But, maybe, it was true - he was just fucking up left and right lately. Enough for you to go to bed without saying 'I love you' back.

'cause baby if i find a way, i'm sure of it, this love won't stray; just give me a chance to say i love you, and i need you. now are you here to stay, or fade away like every other day? you're the reason that i lie awake

track two: 3AM - finding hope

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Eighteen: Faith 

A/N: This is the Eighteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-18 can also be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below or send me a message if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 4199

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

The rapping of knuckles against the old oak door echoed throughout the potions master's office. Breaking through the thick silence that had engulfed the room, a wave of anxiety washed over Severus Snape.

"Can I not go one day without you bothering me, Miss Dumbledore." Snape complained, trying to hide slight crack of nervousness in his voice.

"Sadly, Severus, it is not your beloved Miss Dumbledore." A thick Bulgarian accent announced.

Admittedly disappointed by the unveiling of his visitor, Severus lowered himself back down into his chair, not willing to make an effort for anyone but his apprentice.

"Why are you here, Igor. You should have learned your lesson by now to leave me alone." He said, rubbing his eyes back into focus and running a hand through his hair lazily.

"I have something you'll want to hear." Karkaroff divulged mysteriously, plopping himself down on the chair across from the professor.

"I do not imagine anything you have to say is of any interest to me."

"Then lucky for you Snape, I won't be the one talking."

Unbothered by the man's deliberate awkwardness, Severus allowed him to ramble on, too exhausted to argue with him.

With a flick of his wand and a small puff off smoke, the space between the two men began to whirl and spin, slowly forming a picture-like image in the air, the scene beginning to unfold. Revealing a staff room full of unusually dressed professors, the focus turned to a small cluster of teachers gathered in the centre of the room. Recognising both Igor Karkaroff and Aria Dumbledore sitting side by side on the old couch, Snape grew suspicious of the man's intentions.

"Why are you showing me this?" Severus asked, unsure of whether he wanted to see what was about to happen.

"Just listen." The Durmstrang headmaster hissed.

~

"How do I feel about Snape?" Aria wondered, the scene enclosing in on her.

"He's... curious. He has the capacity for love and friendship just like the rest of us, yet he chooses to be mean-spirited."

~

"I don't want to hear this." Snape declared, turning his eyes away from the woman.

"You must." Igor demanded.

~

"...he can be mean and arrogant and cruel. And despite it all I try my best to show him kindness, but where does that get me? He calls me out in front of practically the whole school? That was so fucking humiliating, and I'm just supposed to forgive him? I think it's safe to say I'd live a happy life if I were to never see that man again."

~

Severus felt his heart drop in his chest, unable to process what he had just heard. Slowly a sharp ringing in his ears grew louder and louder, deafening him to the scene before him, as well as the reality in which he existed. He refused to believe the woman he cared so much about, the woman who had demanded to be his friend, had lied about everything. Did she truly hate him beneath her annoyingly cheerful demeanour, was it all a façade?

He wanted to insist Karkaroff had fabricated the whole thing, but he knew exactly what spell he had cast, there was no way he could have faked it.

A deep rage grew within the man, an anger he had not felt in a number of decades. Severus Snape prided himself on having a monotone disposition, void of all emotion. But that familiar feeling of being betrayed by someone he trusted brought forward a plethora of pent up emotions, namely anger and frustration.

A wide, devilish grin spread across Karkaroff's face, satisfied by his colleague's reaction.

"You see now what she is truly like, Severus. You see now that she was playing you all along. That girl pretends to be your friend to keep her job, not because she likes you." Igor laughed maliciously. "You and I both know what is coming, and when it does, Dumbledore is prepared to replace you. Even he knows where your true loyalties lie. Do not be fooled into thinking the Dumbledore's are your friends. They use you for their own advantage, but the second you are no longer useful, or you become a threat to them, you'll be taken down by any means necessary."

"You're lying." Snape tried to convince himself, refusing to meet the professors gaze. "You're scared of what he will do to you if he returns. You need an alliance with someone on the inside."

"He has returned, you must feel it just as I do." The ex-deatheater practically screamed.

"I will not be manipulated by you Igor. This changes nothing, the girl was nothing but a distraction."

"We both know that isn't true." He sniggered, attempting once last time to convince Snape. "Do you know what she said to me, the last time I was in this office? She told me she could never be with a man like you, she told me your actions were unforgivable. I can prove that as well if you don't believe me."

"Get out, Igor. Just leave." Severus exhaled, starting to pace slowly behind his desk. He knew Karkaroff was trying to manipulate him, he was not stupid enough to fall for that. But proof does not lie, and the facts remain. Everything he was saying true, there was no denying it.

With a short bow, Igor danced out of the room. Completely satisfied with the havoc he'd reeked. He'd successfully toyed with what little emotions the great dungeon bat had left. And who's to say what can happen when Severus Snape's feelings get hurt?

*

Hoot. Hoot.

The bird bleated as it swooped through the open window.

"Another letter for the pile?" Aria sighed to herself. "Will he ever stop?"

Whoo.

It purred in response.

The witch couldn't help but laugh at the coincidence.

"You know exactly who." She giggled, plucking the envelope from the creatures beak, and throwing it on the ever growing pile.

"I just wish he would give me some time to think, you know?" She asked turning back to the barn owl, only to witness it taking off, disappearing into the distance.

Look at me. I'm talking to a bird. She thought with a roll of her eyes. I need to get some sleep.

Catching a glimpse of herself reflection of the window, Aria decided she needed to freshen herself up with a little pamper time, finishing the day off with a very long and well deserved nap.

Dumping almost a whole bottle of bubble bath into the tub, topping with springs of lavender and dried chamomile, Aria plunged herself deep into the warm water.

Relaxing for approximately 2.5 seconds, the woman flew out of the bath, her naked body sopping with bubbles, dripping puddles of water as she explored her quarters impatiently.

"Why can I never find any of my books when I need them most!" She groaned, shivering from the sudden change in temperature as goose bumps formed all over her arms and legs.

Letting out a single yelp of excitement, Aria grabbed the first book she laid eyes on and dived back into her tub.

"Pride and Prejudice, of course." She mumbled, thinking back to that night Severus visited her quarters.

As she read and her mind wandered, Aria found herself making unconscious comparisons between the infamous, brooding Mr. Darcy, and her stern, yet lovable Potions mentor, Severus Snape. They were both mildly rude and arrogant, determined to never show their true emotions, but deep down it was quite possible that they loved more fiercely than anyone ever could.

Elizabeth Bennet enchanted Darcy mind, body and soul. If only there were someone brave enough to do the same to Professor Snape. Aria thought, as she allowed herself to drift off to sleep in the water.

Hours later a thunderously loud 'Bang' frightened Aria awake.

Although not positively sure of how much later it was, she could be certain a decent sleep was had given the icy temperature of the water.

Aria allowed herself a moment to come to, bracing herself against the cold, her was body aching from the ceramic constraints of the tub.

A series of bangs came this time, chapping very loudly on her chamber door. Who ever it was was clearly extremely impatient, forcing her to hurry herself up.

Wrapping herself in nothing but a white cotton towel, the witch slid her way through her rooms to the door. Clearly she wasn't even awake enough to remember where she was, and that answering her door half naked wasn't exactly professional.

Bang. Bang. BANG.

The knocks reverberated through her body, sending shivers down her spine.

Gingerly she opened the door, revealing a more than pissed off Severus Snape.

"Severus." She yawned. "What's wrong?"

"Don't act dumb with me, girl. I am not falling for this act any longer." He snapped.

"What act, Severus? Why are you here?"

"Just tell me why?" He seethed. "Why did go to so much trouble trying to convince me to be your friend, only to confess to Karkaroff, as well as the rest of the Hogwarts staff, your true feelings. Why couldn't you just leave me alone."

"Severus listen, I think we need to talk about this in private. Please come in."

"So you can try and seduce me again? I don't think so. Jesus, look at the state of you, are you really that desperate to entice me? What's next, showing up to dinner completely naked? You really are just as I thought." The potions master growled, his pitch back eyes looking her up and down.

"Severus stop" Aria begged. "I thought we had moved past all this."

"So did I. But considering you have deemed me as "unforgivable" then there doesn't appear to be much point in trying to redeem myself, does there?"

"But you're only going to make everything worse. Let me explain myself, please."

"There is nothing to explain, I shall be putting in a formal request for the headmaster to employ a separate tutor for your apprenticeship in the morning, so you never have to see me again."

The professor stormed off, just as quickly as he had arrived, achieving exactly what he had come to do; humiliate Aria Dumbledore.

Desperate to apologise for her cruel words, Aria made to follow Severus to his classroom.

Forgetting her attire, or rather lack of, she was soon reminded of it when a crowd of Slytherin students erupted in a fit laughter with its fair share of cat-calls and whistles. Clearly they had emerged from their common room to investigate the noise, but stayed for the show of the two arguing potions professors.

"Nice legs, Miss." One of the older boys called, sending a wink in her direction.

Shit. She mumbled under her breath, rushing back to her quarters to change.

Hair still dripping wet, Aria shoved it into a bun on top of her head and pulled on some shorts and an oversized t-shirt, before hunting down the potions master.

"Severus, open the door." She called, upon initially finding it to be locked.

He didn't even bother to reply.

Fine. She thought. I'll do it myself.

"Alohomora." The lock burst apart, allowing the door to slowly creep open, revealing a dishevelled and distressed professor sitting at his desk.

"Severus, please." She whispered softly, realising he had clearly come down from his short outburst of rage.

"Get out." He commanded, though he didn't make any effort to remove his head from his hands.

"Let's talk about this." The woman pleaded, pulling a chair up next to the man. "Let me explain everything."

Snape stirred from his position the closer she came, until finally he was able to look her in the eye.

"Go on." He droned. His eyes red and blood shot, whether it was from lack of sleep or tears was unclear.

"You know more than anyone that Karkaroff cannot be trusted-"

"Don't try and lie to me, Miss Dumbledore. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes." Snape snapped.

"Will you let me finish. I'm not lying to you, Severus." Aria promised. "I said what I said because I didn't want them to know the truth, Karkaroff especially. I don't know what his problem is but I know he's up to something and it involves you. You really think I'd answer any question he asked me truthfully. You're my friend, Severus, I care about you, and that man is a snake for trying to turn us against each other."

"Why should I believe you. I've barely known you a few months, I've known Igor decades."

"That is precisely why you should believe me. He's not your friend, Severus. If he was he'd be able to see the real you; the man behind the mask." She urged, begging for his trust.

Reaching out her hand to take his, Aria stroked a thumb over the cold and calloused hand of her friend.

"And who might that be?" Severus questioned in return, feeling slightly nervous under her touch, but not enough to want to pull away.

"A man." She stated simply. "Not a beast, as you and many others may presume. A good, and decent man. Perhaps he's a even a little bit scared, of what I'm not entirely sure yet. But I will find out one day, if you'll allow me, that is. Let me be your friend, Severus. Let me see what you hide from everyone else. And I promise, I'll be there for you when it matters most."

Her sweet soft tones encapsulated Severus. He had become so lost in her words and her touch that without realising he found himself falling for her speech wholeheartedly. He even risked settling his remaining hand upon hers, clasping her delicate fist between his palms.

"Well then I suppose an apology is in order. I believe I may have acted rather rash and unprofessional."

"There's really no need. You reacted just as you should have to the things you heard. I would have done the same thing in your circumstance." Aria admitted, removing her hand from his, as she made to stand up. "Though there is one thing you could do to make it up to me." She suggested.

"Dare I even ask?" Severus joked.

"I want to know what Karkaroff's after. Tell me how you know him. Why does he care so much about your life?"

Snape practically laughed in response.

"We may be friends now, Miss Dumbledore, but I'm afraid that information is rather personal. And I am not convinced we are quite at that stage in our friendship, just yet."

"I respect that." She shrugged, knowing he wasn't about to give in that easily. "I suppose that just means we'll have to get to know each other a bit more." She smiled almost ear to ear at the prospect.

*

"What do you have planned for your lesson today, Professor Dumbledore?" Severus queried, finally using the woman's rightful professional title.

"Ooooh 'Professor' now, am I?" She smirked, sashaying in front of her co-worker, balancing a handful of potion ingredients in her arms.

"I suppose that is your given title after all, I might as well start using it."

"Hmmm I'm not sure. I think it make's me sound too much like my grandfather. I'm not sure I could pull of the beard quite as well, what do you think?" She giggled, holding her long hair in front of her chin, imitating the old wizard playfully before clumsily dropping another dozen bottles on the table.

Severus tried his hardest to conceal his smile, busying himself with paper work, but however hard he tried he could not hide it from Aria. Every so often she managed to catch him off guard, with a silly joke, or a quick witted comment, in those rare times he allowed himself a glimmer of emotion she always managed to notice. Most of the time Severus found himself smiling at the woman for no reason other than she was simply smiling too.

Finally turning her attention away from the potions master, Aria finished setting up her table full of small bottles and vials.

"We're going to play a game." She announced cheerfully spinning on her heel.

"A game?" Severus asked, unable to stop himself turning his nose up at her idea.

"Yes. It's like a test, but more fun." She persuaded, sensing his judgement.

"And what, might I ask, is wrong with a traditional test."  He queried bitterly.

"The students need motivation, Severus. The word 'test' makes people nervous. With nervousness comes panic, and with panic comes mistakes. Fear is not an accurate motivator, however competition is. The students will be less inclined to make mistakes, if they are rewarded for their efforts." The apprentice hypothesised.

"And this reward is?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes, but allowed her to do her thing uninterrupted.

Since their little 'heart to heart' that night in Snape's office the two professors were finding working with each other a lot more amiable. Severus had given Aria a little more free reign with her portion of the lessons, which in turn, allowed her to respect Severus' strict theoretical practices without causing too many interruptions. The pair had almost started to enjoy working together.

Student by student the class trickled in, each of them intrigued by the new set up of the class room.

"Everyone please take your seats, do not touch the table at the front of the room, class will begin momentarily." Miss Dumbledore announced.

A moment of panic set in as Aria scrambled around Snape's desk, looking for her list of possible potions. This may not have been her first time teaching solo, but it was, however, her opportunity to prove her practices are successful in front of her mentor, Severus Snape. The man in question could see the fear in her eyes, and that she was desperate to impress.

"Here." He mouthed, handing her the piece of parchment. "Relax."

Brushing fingers, as she took the parchment from him, Aria grinned.

"Thank you." She whispered, once again turning to face the class, now with a little more confidence.

"Now today, as you may have guessed, we are going to do something a little different. Professor Snape and I have chosen to take this opportunity to allow you, our promising young N.E.W.Ts students, to show off your skill set to the best of your ability's. On this table in front of me you will find a select variety of potions ingredients that correspond to a number of potions all very much within your capability, your task is to complete one of these potions within the allotted time, at the end of which, a winner will be selected by us."

"What do we win then, professor?" One eager student asked.

"A potion of their choice." She declared, impulsively.

A murmer of chatter instantly broke out among the class, intrigued at the prospect of winning such a thing.

"That all sounds very exciting, Miss Dumbledore." Snape cut in, unwilling to take a backseat quite so easily. "However, sadly as an apprentice professor you are not permitted to take anything from my stores to use so frivolously. The prize will have to be decided at a later time."

Unsurprisingly the students weren't too pleased with Snape's intervention causing for a series of disappointed groans and heckles.

"Then I shall make it myself." Aria concluded.

Another bout of cheers erupted.

"Collect your ingredients, light up your cauldrons, your time starts now!"

Immediately the students jumped from their seats, swarming the table to get what they needed. The professors moved away from the crowd, giving the class a moment to get started.

"Miss Dumbledore, this is not a wise decision." Severus spoke in hushed tones. "I understand entirely the prize of a potion chosen by you, but to give them a choice could be extremely dangerous, think of the chaos that will ensue."

"How about you have a little faith in them for once. Trust that they will make the right decision."

Looking down on the woman, Severus couldn't help but trust she would be right.

"I have faith in you. Not in them." He made clear.

Severus made to walk away, leaving Aria to relish in her small victory, until he was suddenly pulled back by the young woman's hand in his. Not saying a word, Aria Dumbledore gave him an appreciative squeeze, before releasing him back to his desk.

The first hour of the classes passed by effortlessly, the students worked quietly and Severus found no reason to complain. All in all, Aria was quite pleased with how her lesson was going.

That was until...

"Oh shiiiiit."

"Language Mr. Lawrence." Severus warned, briefly looking up from his marking.

"Right, sorry sir. But what the fuck am I supposed to do when this thing starts bubbling like crazy." He freaked out, completely ignoring the potions master's warning.

"What?" Aria gasped, only just becoming aware of the situation.

"Yeah like this thing looks likes 'bout to blow, to be honest with you." The seventh year Hufflepuff boy informed nonchalantly.

"Step away from that cauldron students, quickly!" Aria ordered, ushering them to the sides of the classroom.  "You were attempting a wit-sharpening potion, is that correct?"

"Yup."

"I'm afraid there's no saving it now, Mr. Lawrence, the best we can hope for is that it does not turn to acid and burn through bench."

"Out of my way." Severus huffed impatiently, forcing his way through the crowd of students that had formed around the cauldron.

"Pass me that root of ginger" Snape demanded, positioning himself in front of the ever growing cauldron of bubbling green liquid. Aria obeyed hastily, as the professor performed what she could only describe as a miracle on this horrifying concoction. "Some more newt spleens." He requested, holding out a hand expectantly, while the other gripped onto his wand, casting an enchantment over the potion.

The potions master continued adding a bit of this and a dash of that to the potion, all ingredients Aria Dumbledore would never have considered to associate with this particular brew. Jars of herbs, spices and animal parts were passed through the classroom in order to reach Professor Snape who continuously stirred the potion, muttering all sorts of charms and spells.

However skilled Aria had assumed she was at the art of potion making, it was made clear to her that she was no match for Severus' skills, brewing potions was second nature to him now. Within minutes he had achieved what Aria Dumbledore had deemed impossible, and thus the potion was brought back to it's natural state.

"Severus..." The apprentice gawped. "That was amazing."

"That was nothing." He replied curtly, removing himself from the scene. "Everybody back to work, this is not an excuse to slack off."

Still in awe at the pure artistry she had witnessed, Aria trotted sheepishly back to the front of the class.

Blissfully unaware of the pure talent they had just seen, the students continued on with their work. The Hufflepuff boy did not even have the decency to thank his professor for salvaging the mess he called a potion, let alone be grateful he never received a detention, or deduction of house points.

"What are you staring at, Miss Dumbledore, is there no better way you can spend your time?"

"I'm sorry Severus, but that display was just... brilliant." She beamed.

"Like I said, it was nothing. It comes with the job, I refuse to have any of those delinquents burn through my entire store cupboard because they cannot brew a simple potion, a year below their level no less."

"Well, at least we know who definitely won't be winning anyway." Aria giggled.

"The most we can hope for from that boy is that he manages to finish his potion, god knows he'll need it."

Playfully slapping Snape on the arm for his cheek, the witch perched herself on the edge of the professor's desk, attempting a quick sketch on a scrap piece of parchment, while the students begun to finish off their potions.

"Professor Snape, the winner?" Aria asked, turning to her colleague for a verdict once all of the potions had been completed.

"You want me to choose?" Severus replied, skeptical of her offer.

"Of course. I don't think it would be fair of me to do it, considering I've been giving all of them tips this lesson."

"Very well." He droned, stepping forth to analyse the contents of the cauldrons.

"This one." He announced, pointing a single finger to the cauldron of a young Slytherin witch. "Given that it was the only potion brewed to complete perfection, there is no other possible candidate. I suggest the rest of you get studying before your N.E.W.T's exams, at the rate you lot are going, none of you besides Miss Johnstone here is likely to pass." Snape scolded.

"Well then, congratulations Miss Johnstone, you are the winner of a potion of your choice. See me after lessons tomorrow and let me know your decision."

The girl practically beamed with pride, expecting nothing less than first place.

"Class dismissed."

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel @lizlil

[harry-sussex]

You're lovely, and I enjoy seeing your blog on my dashboard. I'm sorry this has been such a difficult thing to process. It's always really difficult to rework an image of someone you once thought you knew. However I'd like to just put it out there - sometimes (I think the large majority of the time) news is presented in the most sensationalist way, such that nowadays I make a point of de-sensationalizing any news I read in my head. In the case of the whole Harry's memoir thing- I can sympathize with Harry as a person possibly just wanting to take back some control of the narrative for himself. Not just in the most recent events with family (that I tend to think are less horrifying than the fandom/Twitter sussex squad discusses it anyway), but in all aspects of his life. I do not at all think he's going to put his family on blast. I can easily imagine Meghan reigning that dialogue in; she has the tendency to think before she speaks that he seems to lack. And he loves his family. Similar to The Interview promos, I imagine the publishing house knew to increase the interest by implying it to be a tell all memoir. I think he's just done a lot of growing up that he didn't know he had to do over a short period of time, esp re: implicit bias/racism in the setting of media's blatant attack on someone he loves, and is disappointed by the institution's and his family's response to it. I think he's emerged a more introspective and aware human, albeit a disillusioned one. Yes it breaks my heart to think that Meghan won't get a break from the tabloids any time soon. If I were him I'd counsel him to write it & sit on it for a few yrs. But I don't want to give the media the power to destroy Meghan in my mind, and I pray she & Harry won't either. I think she'll be okay. She's a strong one, and I think he's able to draw that same link for himself and be thoughtful about what he does. No one likes being misunderstood/misinterpreted, and I wouldn't be surprised if Harry's especially triggered by that given his history with the press. Maybe this idea emerged from therapy, idk. I can empathize with that, even if I wouldn't do it myself. I hope and pray Meghan gets the support she needs from him and her loved ones in the meantime. I'm honestly not going to read it. I think the less attention I give the BRF the better off they are, unless they're doing something immoral/illegal (see: Woking pizza alibi). And I think at the end of the day, people will unfairly judge other people, especially public figures that have tragic pasts and are publically fighting with the media. A lot of it is going to be noise and I'm not going to give my energy into figuring it out. I like to think I've got a good sense of who they are as people - flawed but ultimately well meaning and earnest. I'm a huge admirer of Meghan and think Harry got really lucky with this one and I'm proud of him for choosing her in more ways than one. I believe Harry and Meghan are lovely people, and I 100% believe their interview. I believe that there are people in the palace with a lot of unchecked power who deliberately uncovered her and Archie from BRF protection for reasons of believed superiority over Meg & Arch. And they're figuring out how to deal with that as a couple and a family. And it's none of my business past that imo. I pray for them and hope it'll eventually end in peace for them all. Just wanted to add another perspective, and hopefully some levity. xx M

Hi, dear. First thing’s first, I really appreciate that this is off anon lol. I love it when people own their opinions, and it says a lot that you did. So thank you for that.

Second of all, I really appreciate the nuance and perspective that is in this message. I agree that the news is sensationalist, and my initial reaction was based off of that. I did watch the promotional clips of the interview and I believe it did sour my expectations going into it when I watched it nearly a week after it aired. I did my best to stay away from Tumblr because I didn’t want that to hinder my view, but it was impossible to separate the promotions that presented the information one way from what it actually was, and thank you for bringing that up with respect to the memoir because I hadn’t considered it. I will say that my knee jerk reaction is pretty on par with the way I still feel about it 24 hours later, especially since I got the news directly, not from Tumblr or Twitter or anywhere else, but you’re right that it could have soured my view from the very start.

I appreciate that he wants to take back some of the narrative but I think that ship has sailed, tbh. He did that with the interview and now I just think it feels like information overload. At some point, people are going to get tired of hearing the wealthy, privileged, powerful Prince complain about his life while more than 4 million people have died due to a global pandemic in less than 2 years. Not to say that he doesn’t struggle - in the words of Roxane Gay, there is no oppression Olympics (and that can be extended to struggle Olympics) - but people view it that way and will get tired of it, if they haven’t already.

I also agree that Harry’s past with the press has tarnished the way he has handled the media and the public post-exit, when he’s finally in a position to strike back without being somewhat obliged to them as part of the circumstances of his birth. I understand and sympathize with him but I just don’t think the public does, and the public matters much, much more than the perspective of one single American fan, to whom he’s never been obliged, and I simply do not think the public will afford him that same understanding, sympathy, and leniency. The public and the media are critical to his humanitarian work - his mother never realized that towards the end of her life, and I truly don’t think she would have been the martyr/saint she is perceived to be now if she had lived, because she did not know how to meet the media in the middle and eventually that started to piss people off. He’s starting to piss people off now and if it doesn’t bother him personally (which it definitely does), I don’t want it to affect his causes. The Invictus Games, Sentebale, Walking with the Wounded, WellChild, Mayhew, Smartworks, Archewell, etc. deserve better than to suffer the wrath of the media and an apathetic public because their patrons simply will not shut up lol.

I guess my point is that they will be unfairly judged (regardless, but especially due to the way they’re handling things), and I think it would suit them better in the long run if they adopted a different strategy. I really sympathize with the fact that he feels frustrated with the narrative that has been manufactured but I really, really think the narrative will only get worse and worse as he continues to go on and on about how badly his life sucks, basically. Again, I don’t deny that he struggles - we all do, some more than others, especially when there are mental health issues - but the public, to me, simply does not care. My own therapist has told me to simply stop caring about the things that I discuss with him. Not to say that they’re not relevant, important, or worthy of discussion - they absolutely are - but his point is that you cannot change people and you are wasting your energy and struggling yourself because you want to change them so, so, so badly that you’re neglecting your own self care in the process. I hate that I do it to myself and I also hate that he appears to be doing it to himself. I’m sure a lot of this conversation has been brought up in his own therapy, and I’m no professional, but I’m doing my best to heed the advice of my own therapist - which is the opposite of what Harry is doing - and it’s done wonders for me, when I actually can do it.

If there’s anything I know from this whole thing, it’s that Harry is absolutely punching above his weight, love him as I may, and that he adores, adores, adores his wife. He has chosen her from the very second she came into his life and I couldn’t want anything more for him or from her. I’m not going to lie, I would have been in this thing for any wife that Harry chose, because I was here long before Meghan specifically came into his life. However, I am glad every day that he chose her, that he loves her, that he wants to protect her, that she loves him back, that he lives the life with her that he’s wanted as long as I (and I’m sure he) can remember. I love her because he loves her, and I would have no matter what, because at the end of the day, it’s his happiness and comfort that matters to me, that has mattered to me since I discovered him and how wonderful he can be more than 7 years ago. What more could I ask of Meghan? What more, as his fan to the end (annoy me as he may), could I want for him? Who could say anything about her in that regard? If there’s anything that has come of this mess, to me, it’s that Harry loves, loves, loves his wife. I will always be happy for him and I will always be proud of him for choosing her, even if I don’t always agree with the way he goes about it.

I’m looking forward to peace, too. I cannot wait for things to just die out, for them to work things out as a couple and as a family, and for everyone to move on. The family will still do their thing and the Sussexes can do theirs, but I cannot deal with this back and forth, tit for tat, petty nonsense anymore. They’re wonderful and flawed, like the rest of them (except Andrew), and I just hope that they can all come to some kind of agreement or terms that lets this die down. It’s exhausting for everyone - themselves included. If I’m this tired, I can only imagine how tired they all are.

Thanks for stopping by, and sorry for the essay (essays, these past 24 hours lol). I really appreciate your kindness in this message, your presence in my notifications (I do see them!), your nuanced perspective and like I said before, I really, really appreciate that you own it!

[quokkalatte]

Mixtape pt. 4 [M.YG]

Part 4

Category: One Shot series

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female!Reader

Summary: Living as an aspiring rap artist in Seoul, all you want to do is work on your music and try to get your name out there. Of course when you have someone as annoying and spiteful as Min Yoongi makes that extremely difficult. Until he decides to help you out.

Warnings: smut, language, some Namjoon action (which ofc is a warning cause oof), angry Yoongi, alcohol consumption, perhaps some angst but not really

Warnings for this chapter: Honestly none except slight mentions of sex

Author's Note:so sorry it took so long to get his out thank you for being patient ♡ this chapter is short. Like really short but I'll try to make the next one longer ~ Autumn

Tags; @notsolovelykarsyn @psychoticshawtyy

Cannot tag: @deesixx2801

[Message me to be added to the tag list so you can be notified for new updates]

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

It was like clockwork, waking up again and feeling angry and bitter at myself. Making myself something to drink and brooding and contemplating telling Yoongi not to come, tell him I'm sick. Any excuse not to see him again.

I sat on the couch, staring at Yoongi's contact, chewing my lip. I pressed his contact and texted him.

Me: don't come today, I've come down with something

Jerk: OK

I sighed, putting my phone down, going to take a long shower and try and get over the pounding in my skull, drinking was never a good idea. I undressed, stepping into the shower and allowing the steaming water to pour down my body, my eyes closing in content. I lathered myself in soap and wrapped myself in a towel, ruffling my hair with another to dry it faster. A faint knock had me frowning, dropping the towel I was drying my hair with I quickly adjusted the one covering my body, making sure I was appropriately covered, I went to the door, checking the peep hole and nearly yelped in shock.

Yoongi stood outside the door, container in hand and two drinks in another. His blonde hair was tousled and he was peering down the hall at something, scratching at his neck for a moment, pushing the grey goodie he wore for better access. I let out a short gasp. I told him I was sick! What was he still doing here? I backed away, from the door, eyeing it like it was deadly or toxic.

"Open the door Y/n I know you aren't still asleep, you texted me 30 minutes ago" Yoongi's aggregated voice came from the other side of the door. I swallowed and glared

"I told you I was sick Yoongi"

"And? Just let me in please your druggy neighbor keeps peeking at me and it's unnerving" he says, the last part fading into a whisper. I groan, pulling the door open, and Yoongi steps in quickly. He freezes once he sees my attire. Color floods his pale cheeks, and I blush darkly. "Uh, did I interrupt something?"

"N-No I just got done showering. I wasn't expecting you to still come" I mumble, excusing myself to dress, leaving Yoongi in my living room. I quickly pulled on a hoodie and sweatpants. I found him peering around my desk, and I clear my throat, and he turns to me. "Finished?" He asked and I roll my eyes.

"I still don't know why you're here, I told you not to come"

"I was already on my way when I got your text, and it wouldn't be the first time I've been around you when you're ill" he prompts, walking over to my kitchen island and setting the box and drink tray down.

"Have you considered maybe I don't want to see you?"I snap, fed up with him already. Memories of last night kept swimming in a haze, the alcohol making it dim to remember everything, but I understood the jist of watching Yoongi stick his tongue down some girl's throat and going to bed with her.

"Have you worked on a song yet?"

He completely ignored my question, opening the box and the tempting smell of sushi wafted towards me. I folded my arms, and huff

"You didn't answer my question"

"You didn't answer mine" he smirks, plucking a sushi roll and plopping into his mouth. "I brought you some too come eat" he mumbles, his cheeks puffed as he chewed. I growl in frustration and take one. "Well?"

"Yes I've worked on the song" I grumble, remembering the furious drunk scribbling I did last night in anger. Yoongi swallowed, taking a drink from his cup and dusted his hands on his pants.

"Let's see then" he asks, and I walk over to my desk and snatch the papers and handed them to him. He raised his eyebrows at me, before scanning the angry lyrics. I knew what they were, those were the one thing I remember about last night. The lyrics spoke of harsh love, love that wasn't reciprocated and the pain of having to watch him move about and not do anything about it. I suddenly realized the inspiration of the song was reading it, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth formed the words. I grew nervous, wanting to know what was running through his head. He read through them twice before handing them back to me.

"They're very meaningful, full of emotion. I'd tweak the grammar a bit and take out a couple of repitions" he says, but his mouth moved as if he wanted to ask something else. His tone was guarded and he took another sushi roll and chewed it. I nod, returning the paper to the desk. The silence that followed was awkward. Yoongi wanted to ask something, I could see it in his eyes. It did nothing more than agitate my already hostile mood with him. He chewed the sushi in silence, eyeing me as I watched cars come and go out the window above my desk. It got to much.

"Just ask what you want to ask Yoongi" I sigh, turning to look at him. He seemed embarrassed that I had caught him, but as he eyed me, his nervousness quickly snapped and he spoke.

"Is the song about the guy you're with?" He asks, tone cold and judging.

"What guy?" I frown at him, halfly with exasperation

"The Panda Express guy" he said impatiently, like I was an idiot of some sort. My eyes widened and a blush rose on my cheeks.

"I'm not seeing the Panda Express guy Yoongi" I growl.

"Are you sure?" His tone mocking.

"Positive."

"Then what are the looks he gives you every time we go out after a session?"he accuses. I groan, this boy. He acts almost like he's jealous. Which couldn't be true considering the activities he had partaken in merely 12 or so hours ago.

"That's what they are Yoongi. Looks. He kept trying to ask me out but I turned him down. He thinks we have something special after we drunkenly kissed at a friends party over a year ago" I scoff. Yoongi squinted at me, trying to see if I was telling the truth.

"Jimin?" I groan, wanting to strangle him.

"Just a friend"

"You sure?" His tone was sharp "you seemed awful cozy last night"

"Dammit Yoongi I don't like Jimin! I don't like the Panda Express guy! I've never done more than kiss a guy so stop treating me like I'm some common whore" I yell, fists clenching in anger. Yoongi blinked, taken aback my my outburst. He looked guilty for a split second, and he eyed me. I blushed, realizing I had admitted my viginity to a guy who had probably taken many.

"You've never had sex?" He asks after a pause. I turn my eyes to the ground, not meeting his gaze

"No. Never found a guy I liked enough to do things with" I mumble. I didn't like the silence. That all that seemed to be happening were bouts of awkward and tension-filled silence. I just wish he'd speak. Yoongi was always bad with words, except when he was rapping. Then he could spit out words faster than I could comprehend.

"Neither have I" I was caught in my thoughts that I almost missed him saying it. I looked at him, and he looked back. This pissed me off. I balled my fists, walking over to him, and grabbed him by his hoodie. He yelped as I dragged him towards the door. The shock must have allowed me to do so, considering Yoongi was taller than me and more built. I shoved him towards the door.

"Get out" I snap. "I don't want you here again. If all you're going to do is patronize me and slut shame me and tell lies then I don't want you here. Ever" Yoongi sputtered at me

"What are you-"

"No!" I cut him off "you don't get to listen to me announce my intact viginity only for you to reply with you haven't had sex either" I growl, pointing my finger in his face.

"I havent-"

"Liar! You had your tongue down some poor girls throat just last night! I saw you so I dare you to deny it" I hiss. He swallowed cautiously.

"I won't deny it, but I didn't have sex with her" I snort and he glared at me. "it's true. I was going to, but I stopped. I always stop. I can't bring myself to do it" he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. I frown, not fully believing him. He always had girls at parties, every single time. He'd take a girl upstairs, and now he's trying to say he's never slept with them? I was doubtful.

"Why do you stop? They're pretty and eager" I ask

"Because I don't like them. I don't want to have sex with someone I don't care about. It needs to mean something." He says. I study him before replying. He seemed honest and genuine, I didn't see a trace of a lie on his features. My next question I knew would anger him, it was a touchy subject, but I couldn't deny my jealousy that wiggled it's way into my head.

"The girl in the song you wrote for, is she special?" I ask. Yoongi's gaze was intense, and I had to will myself not to look away. I stared into his brown eyes as he spoke.

"More than she could possibly know" he says, his voice low and calm. The air sparked with a new kind of tension, created from his words and gaze. It sent pickles of emotion up my spine and caused a round of goose bumps to grace my arms. The jealousy egged me on, I wanted to know more about this girl that apparently plagued his thoughts enough to have a song written for her. Did she know about the crush Yoongi was harboring so deeply for her? Maybe not, or they'd be together already.

I didn't realize how close Yoongi was to me. His face hovered inches away from mine. I could feel the exhaled breath fan across my face and the heat his skin put off warm the air between us. It chilled me, him being so close and my cheeks spread with warmth as I realized he hadn't broken eye contact. He licked his lips, and leaned forward just slightly, his breath setting me aflame.

The loud sound of a phone ringing caused us to jump. Yoongi stumbled back into the door and I turned to find the offending noise. Yoongi phone was vibrating and ringing nest to the food and drinks. I tried to still my rapid hear beating as Yoongi quickly walked over to it, picking it up and answering it.

"Hello?" His voice was higher pitched and his cheeks were flushed pink. Incomprehensible words came from the other side. Yoongi hummed "okay I'm in my way. Try to get him not to move it" he says and hangs up. He glanced at me "I need to go"

"What happened?" I ask, instantly worried. He wrinkled his nose

"Namjoon's roommate, Seokjin, got his hand caught in the sink. Reached down to grab something and it got stuck. I need to go help get it out while Namjoon panics unnecessarily" he says. I open my mouth to respond, to tell him I wanted to come, but he was already out the door with a quick slam and a rushing sound of clothing, leaving me alone and confused.

[brinroberts-blog]

i won't promise you

who brinley and braxton roberts when monday may 22nd what brinley lets her emotions get the best of her, time and time again warnings mentions of incest, pedophilia and abuse

BRINLEY.

No, crashing wasn��t the right word - burning was more like it, and she was the one with the match to light the flame. She could hear herself, how awful she sounded, how she pushed (shoved) everyone away. Because it was easier. Because then maybe she could run.

She knew she had hurt Braxton the worst. But she needed to, she justified, if she was ever going to make them right again. And yes, she had been pissed when she saw his messages with Claudia (who leaves their phone on the kitchen counter?) discussing how concerned they were. Like she was a child who needed tending to, as if they were her parents pushing the responsibility of watching over her to the other.

Well fuck them, she decided. Just because Charlie said Claudia should fuck Braxton didn’t mean she got to, and just because Claudia asked didn’t mean Brinley couldn’t lie.

(In her head, it made sense. The two of them. She could see it unfolding like a romantic comedy and it ached in her gut. If he had Claudia, he wouldn’t need Brinley. If he had Claudia, he wouldn’t be just hers anymore. It didn’t matter that what they had was bigger than everything else, not if he chose Claudia. Irrational, terrible jealousy.

She was an awful sister.)

So she’d run. It was different than Stella (gone but always so present) because she wasn’t taking off with Dave or anyone else. No, she left him passed out cold, her hands on her hips as she made the decision.

Go home. Pack a bag. Disappear.

She didn’t bother with the window, instead coming straight through the front door - let her father be there, a bottle of beer in his hands, judgement and lust coloring his gaze. Let him try a single move, she thought, prepared to fight, prepared to escape. But it was silent, the door to his room closed, her own just past it.

And she packed. A backpack (was she really committed enough to bringing something more?) full of jeans, underwear, a few shirts. A hair tie on her wrist, one in her hair, digging around for her Converse.

But her jacket - her favorite, with the distressed leather she’d worn for years - it was on Braxton’s floor. So she slipped in, his window wide open (waiting for her, she knew, hoping she’d come home) and his phone unplugged next to him as he tossed. Restless. Worried.

And here she was, about to make it worse.

She brushed her fingers through his hair, kissed his cheek, and ran like hell.

St. Louis was only about four hours away, and she sped the whole time. Chicago was too close, too tainted from road trips and hockey games and Stella, somehow still there in her mind. It was three in the morning, the highways empty and silent, and she didn’t even bother with the radio.

For once, silence suited her.

Despite doing 80 the whole time, she didn’t get a single ticket (was she hoping for one? An excuse to head back?) and arrived near the border as dawn was breaking, morning traffic starting to build as people started their week.

But she couldn’t cross. Leaving Illinois felt permanent, unchangeable. Like if she did it, she really couldn’t come back. So she checked into a Motel 6, flopped down on the too stiff bed, and for the first time in weeks, she cried.

It started gentle, silent tears streaming, but before she could gain control once more they built, her body curling against itself as it all came out. Pouring, drenching sobs, enough to dehydrate, enough to wear her out.

At some point, her phone vibrating across the room with messages, surely from Braxton, from Charlie, from Claudia and maybe even Oliver if they’d realized she’s gone, Brinley managed to subside the heaving sobs.

It was only then that she was able to fall into a completely restless sleep.

BRAXTON

There were very few times in his life when Braxton ever felt absolutely broken. The first was when he was 11 and he finally realized that the man who raised him - the man he called Dad still - would never actually love him. His dad looked at Brinkley and saw their mother, the love of his life. He looked at Braxton and saw the reason she was gone and a constant reminder of the fact that she hadn't loved him the way he loved her. Braxton was nothing more than a cosmic joke he was stuck with because how do you explain keeping one twin and getting rid of the other to the small town of Ashbourne?

Then there was the moment when he was 15 and he answered a phone call from a number he didn't know. The woman insisted she was his mother and wanted to meet with him, to see him and talk to him. And at the time, he didn't have a good reason not to go. So he borrowed Brin’s car without telling her why and drove three hours away, the halfway point his mother had picked for them. He waited for an hour at a coffee shop for her until she finally showed. And he knew instantly that she was his mom; she really did look exactly like Brinley. Except her ears; those were his ears.

She hugged him and he felt a rush of parental affection for the first time in his life. He even dared to think maybe this had all been a mistake, her leaving. But then she sat him down and explained the reason she wanted to see him: she wanted Braxton to come live with her. She'd married his father, they were a family. They had a daughter and a dog and they wanted to make things right with him. But not Brinley. She didn't want her. How could anyone not want her? How could she even think he'd leave Brinley behind for a women who waited 15 years to come to him?

Then there was now. Where his best friend, his beloved sister, the person who made him feel like he belonged in this world, Brinley didn't want him anymore. Yeah maybe she was trying to play it off like he was the one pulling away from her, saying that he had everyone else and didn't need her anymore but he knew her. She was really telling him that she didn't need him.

It left him hollow inside; he'd long ago accepted the fact that he was severely codependent on her but it didn't matter to him. She was literally half of him. His mistake was assuming she thought the same way.

“Where's my daughter?”

His dad’s gruff voice forced Brax to stop staring at his deteriorating cereal. Not like he'd been eating it anyway. But it was the way he said it, always “my daughter” and never “your sister” or “our family” that wore him down more than usual. Because his dad didn't want him and neither did Brin; he wasn't anything to either of them anymore.

“I don't know. Probably at work,” Brax said automatically to cover her even though he knew she wasn't working until the afternoon.

“She hasn't been home in a week,” their dad grumbled. “Probably off fucking that North kid.”

“I wouldn't know,” Brax sighed. There was no way Brax would ever tell their dad about anything Brinley did. It wasn't his business and they both lived in fear of the day that he decided it was. Because Brax was sure it would come. It was why he let Brinley sleep with him. It was why he covered for her, why he caused minute distractions when he could to divert their dad’s attention.

But this morning, still drunk, their dad clearly didn't have the patience for the game. With a sharp slap to the back of Braxton’s head that cracked his neck, Braxton felt his dad’s hand hard against his skull, holding his head down against the table. His glasses fell off.

“You ungrateful little bitch,” he snarled in Braxton’s ear, his breath smelling like beer and piss. “You only exist because I say so. You live here because I say so. You have clothes and food and fucking glasses because I say so. And in return I ask for one thing. You keep up with my daughter. If you can't even do that-”

“You're hurting me,” Brax spat, trying to scuffle out from under his dad's grip.

“This doesn't hurt,” he insisted, adding more weight to his hand. “Listen boy, here's what's going to happen. If you're not going to hold up your end of the bargain, then you're out.”

“What?”

“Get out,” he hissed, “of my house and don't come back without my fucking daughter.”

“But-”

“GET OUT!”

He released Braxton and stumbled away; Brax scrambled up the stairs, instinctively running to Brinley’s room before he remembered she wasn't there.

And none of her stuff was either. Not the stuff she loved anyway. Her favorite shirts that were always on her bed. Her shorts and jeans and sunglasses. Anything with a charger, gone. The picture of all of them, even Stella, gone.

Brax panicked, like couldn't breathe panicked. She was really gone. Like… gone.

He ran downstairs. He grabbed the keys to his dad's car off the hook and hopped in. He spent all day driving every street, looking in every corner he could think. By 5 he felt like his lungs were stuffed with cotton. He threw up on the side of the Welcome to Ashbourne sign.

He had to find her.

At some point he remembered the Find My Phone app. He plugged it in, following the trace to a Motel 6 next to the border. And once he figured out her room, he stopped. He wasn't sure what to do next. She didn't want him around. She'd run this far from him. But he needed her. He was scared. He was… lost.

He knocked. She didn't answer. He knocked again, his voice watery. “Brinley please. I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. You don't have to talk to me just let me in. Please? I don't have anywhere to go.”

BRINLEY The sun was settling low in the sky when she woke up, tears dried on her face and snot crusted against her skin. Disgusting, but it wasn’t like she didn’t feel it deep inside her bones to match her outward appearance.

Her phone, containing at least half a dozen voicemails and texts, said it was shortly after 6. She’d slept for almost twelve hours, and her back cracked and ached from the uncomfortable position she’d been in the entire time, too exhausted to bother moving even in sleep.

The next move evaded her. There were two options, really: go home, face the music, accept who she was and what she wanted, or run. Her skin seemed to crawl as she scrubbed at it harshly with the scratchy washcloth, the motel’s shower steaming around her and turning her body a dark red. She needed these feelings out, she needed her head clear. But the options kept circling, round and round and round again, a merry go round Brinley couldn’t find herself off of.

If she decided to go back, she knew, no one would have even noticed her absence. She’d disappeared for longer, usually with Charlie, but after having pissed off all of her friends, she doubted anyone was even looking for her. Her boss was already pissed at her, she knew, for ditching without even calling on the first day the pool opened. But they couldn’t yell at her, not this year. The only thing Stella had given them in her absence: a get out of jail free card.

It was almost two hours later, her hair still damp against her plain white teeshirt as she stared at the uneaten pizza in front of her. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate, but the thought of processing food was...daunting. And after years of the Pazza, eating a chain just seemed nauseating. Instead, she nibbled at the crust, her arms wrapped around her knees, trying to decide.

Home, or run.

The knock at the door startled her up off her bed, panic welling up inside of her. There were only two people who could have traced her, but as she heard Braxton’s pleas, her breath steadied, her heart still racing slightly as she slid the lock open.

“How did you find me?” she whispered, eyes wide but he didn’t answer her, just pulled her in for a hug, crushing and overwhelming and she pressed her face against the curve of his neck, breathing him in. She could feel his sadness on him, how he wore his heart on his sleeve, and she knew, immediately, why she hadn’t crossed the state line.

There was never any leaving Braxton behind.

The tears came abruptly, though she didn’t understand how she’d had any left; her sobbing in the early morning hours seemed to have only been an appetizer, a tease of what she was capable of as she collapsed, right out of his grasp, her body curling up on itself on the floor as he closed the door behind him, immediately sitting down next to her and stroking her hair and back.

“I’m sorry,” she choked, the words heavy in her mouth. She was apologizing for so much, and he didn’t even know. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” she tried to get out, her breath catching in her throat as she cried.

She knew he was crying too, trying to console her, and it only made her feel worse. She’d done this to them, she’d broken them and who was to say if they could ever fix themselves completely once more?

”I’m so fucked, Brax,” she managed, “how do you not see it? That I’m just like him? That I’m just like her? That you’re better off without me?”

BRAXTON

The weight of the world was nothing compared to the weight of his sister collapsing in his arms; Brinley was barely 110 pounds really but he’d never seen her distraught like this and the weight of that crashed into him more than anything else had. It made her heavy, made him feel weak and useless, and all he wanted to do was make everything right for her again. To hold her together.

”You’re not like anyone,” he whispered, his voice small as he tried to reassure her even as he was flooded with a queasy mix of relief and fear. “You’re Brinley. You’re just like you. You’re perfect.”

”I’m not,” she continued to cry. “I’m so fucked. I’m fucked.”

”You’re perfect,” he repeated, as many times as necessary until she calmed down. Or maybe ran out of tears, he wasn’t sure. But she didn’t let go of him and it was only then that he realized he was still crying. His shoulders shaking. His eyes blurry and heavy. His head hurt, the kind of tension that only came from holding everything in for too long.

”Brin-” he tried to say but god, he couldn’t put anything else on her. He had no idea what she faced that caused this kind of total devastation in her. And whether she liked it or not, he’d always been her protector. He’d always stood up for her and carried the load for her when he could. And he did everything he could to make sure she didn’t have to worry about him, or carry his load. But he couldn’t do it alone. He needed her there to have any kind of strength.

”I’m sorry,” he said, wiping at his own tears and trying to force them back. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I don’t even know- I didn’t mean to do it.”

”It’s not you,” she said quickly and he coughed a short laugh. It was him, he knew it was him. She couldn’t hide that from him. He didn’t know what it was at all, but it was him. Somehow, always-

He was always the mistake.

”I’m just fucked up,” she repeated and he shook his head violently, grabbing her by the shoulders and holding her to his chest again. It was all he could do. All he could think to do. She just had to be there and nothing else had to matter. Nothing ever had to matter again, just her.

Hours passed, the minutes slowly ticking by on the clock by the television. She lay with her head in his lap, letting him stroke her hair. And every time she tried to say something about herself, he contradicted her. Because he loved her, more than she loved herself apparently, and as long as he kept telling her she was wrong, there was a chance she would believe him. She had to believe him. He didn’t know what he’d do if she decided she didn’t. If she didn’t come home.

Or maybe she had the right idea… maybe they didn’t have to go back. Stella had disappeared - taken, kidnapped, run away, who knows? - how hard could it be for two more Ashbourne kids to up and leave?

”Brax?” she whispered, so quiet he almost missed it. “What are we going to do?”

He hesitated longer than he should have, long enough for her to lift her head from his lap and sit on her knees, facing him. He deflated, leaning heavily against the edge of the mattress. She was looking at him, fear in her eyes and concern in her lips and all he could do was try to run through the options in his head a thousand miles a minute.

”What if we didn’t go home?” he asked, his voice as small as her and he could tell by the little gasp that she hadn’t expected that from him. “What if… Brin…”

”Brax?”

He suddenly felt like he was choking. The sensation had been there all day, overridden by the blind panic that had consumed him over Brinley. But he could suddenly feel the way their dad had held him down, the pressure on the back of his head again. The stink of his breath, the threat he made him. The complete and utter disgust he had for Brax. And it was crushing Braxton’s chest, his ability to think and breathe and function.

”I don’t want to go back,” he gasped, his fingers digging into his palms as they clenched. “I don’t want to go back to that house without you, Brin. I can’t. He won’t let me. He… Brin, he kicked me out.”

BRINLEY

“He what?” she screeched, her anger shooting through her body as she jolted upwards, to her feet, her eyes immediately searching for her phone, ready to tear him apart. “He can’t fucking do that, I won’t let him do that, you belong where I am and if I have to go back,” and she knew, inevitably, she did have to return, “then I’m not going back without you.”

She paused long enough to let out a near scream of frustration, her voice angry and harsh when she yelled “WHERE IS MY PHONE?”

Instead of giving it to her, Braxton pulled her to the bed, their knees still touching (always touching, as if the past 72 hours had made them even more codependent than they already were, and just maybe they had) as he told her. How his head had been held down, beer breath and strength used against him and Brin made him turn around, examining to see if there was a wound.

There wasn’t, but she kissed the nape of his neck anyways, a small shudder running through him that seemed to cause one of her own, her eyes closing momentarily as she soaked it in.

”See?” Braxton whispered, fingers wrapped tight around her own. “You’re nothing like him.”

Her eyes watered again, but she managed to stave the inevitable off. Tears would do no good. “You don’t see it?” She asked, and honestly, it might have hurt worse. At least if he saw her as she saw their father, Brin would know. Because this love she felt, it consumed her. And if even Braxton didn’t feel it -

”I am,” she murmured, a finger pressed against his lips as she shook her head. “Because I love you.”

”I love you too,” he replied, but she shook her head, her finger brushing over the curve of his jaw as she looked at his lips, wondering if she was really...could she? Was she brave enough?

”No,” her voice, barely louder than a breath as she leaned in close, eyes glued to his until she could feel hik hold his breath, “I love you.”

And she did it. The only thing she could never take back from their relationship, the only thing that could damage them beyond repair.

She kissed him.

BRAXTON

The world stopped. She kissed him and he literally froze. He couldn't hear anything but dead silence. Didn't feel anything but her hesitant lips in his. Couldn't see anything except the top of her head that smelled like her swimmer’s shampoo. She kissed him. She was kissing him.

He wasn't sure what to do. Kiss her back? Pull away? Why was she- what did she- was this some kind of-

No. No, it made sense. All her insisting that she was like him, like their father. Because they both knew about the way he looked at his daughter, the irrational mix of lust and transference and that the only reason he'd never done anything to her was because he was ultimately a spineless coward. But Brinley saw herself in him because she kissed Braxton.

Him. Her brother. Her half brother really. But him, her twin. Braxton. Him.

And just as carefully, he kept letting her. Her lips against his, almost innocent if it didn't carry so much weight for her. Or him. Because he couldn't tear himself away but he couldn't seem to close his eyes and lose himself to it. Because as much as he believed now she'd been fighting this, a part him - a dark part that questioned everything possibly good in his life - wondered if this was just some kind of… claim to him.

(Because he knew his sister and she was insanely possessive. Her things were hers and if she shared it was only because she knew she owned them. And she knew, she had to know that she owned Braxton. He'd take a bullet for her. He'd lie for her. He'd do anything for her.)

(Including this.)

(It wasn't like he hadn't… not seriously, not explicitly… but he'd always known they felt and acted like more than siblings should. And she seemed to need this and he just needed her, no matter what. He wouldn't lose her by staying, but he would by pulling away. He knew that much.)

He waited until she stopped, rolling over and away from him as she curled in on herself. And he moved with her, his arms circling around her waist as he pressed his cheek against her shoulder. Holding her until she seemed to relax into him, just barely.

“You're not him,” he whispered. There's never be any kind of doubt in his mind about that. “What he does is… he wants to punish you for being here because she's not. But you look like her. So all he sees is her. He wants you because he can't have her.”

“It’s still-”

“Not the same,” he finished for her. “We… you and I, no matter what… you know we belong together. You can't come into this world with someone and not belong together.”

She didn't respond. He didn't know if his answer was enough for her.

“I love you, Brinley,” he whispered into her back. “I love you.”

BRINLEY

Kissing Braxton wasn’t like kissing Dave or even Charlie; it was like coming home. A rush, a relief, the edges of her brain fuzzy with more than just want. And he kissed back, softly, as if he was afraid.

And why shouldn’t he be? This wasn’t something they did. Sharing a bed was already judged by even their closest friends, the ones who knew why she was scared to sleep alone. She and Brax, they shared everything in the world but -

Maybe not this.

The tears threatened again and she turned away from him, burying her face in the comforter. He could say he loved her, he could say she wasn’t their father, but she could feel it. The disconnect between her heart and his. He loved her, but maybe -

He didn’t love her enough. Not the way she loved him. He’d give himself to her if she asked, but it wouldn’t be what either of them wanted. Brax was probably thinking of his cute sophomore, or maybe even Claudia or Phoenix or anyone else. It hurt her more than anything else ever could have.

”We have to go back,” she muttered after awhile, her arms wrapped tight around her torso. She wouldn’t beat herself up over this, but maybe - maybe now she could move on.

Move forward.

”No we don’t,” he replied, but she ignored it. They did, even if their father was an asshole (one she could almost understand, now, in a way) and even if Stella’s absence was tearing them all apart. Because even if she was angry at Claudia, she couldn’t really abandon her. And even if she had told Charlie, he’d take her back. And even if Dean was being an asshole, and Oliver was quieter than normal, and Phoenix was lost at sea, the seven of them needed each other.

”Let’s go,” she demanded, unfurling herself enough to pack and Braxton tried to stop her, to get her to talk, but she was already moving past, rushing forward. She was tired of crying, sick of it, and she wouldn’t stop to think and do it again.

”Brin,” he tried once more, hand on her wrist as they stood by their cars, Brin’s backpack already thrown in the messy backseat. “Are you sure?”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted. And she wasn’t sure, at all. But she’d made her decision and now, now she’d have to live with it.

She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, her palm resting against it in a familiar motion they did when they were little. It’s yours now, they’d whisper, hidden beneath sheets in their couch fort, keep it.

He had her heart. He probably always would. And he’d never understand the depth of her emotions, but she’d be okay with it. She’d learn to be okay.

”All good all the time,” she promised before slipping into her car, leaving him to follow as they made their way back to Ashbourne.