#THE BANE OF HAVING TWO BLONDE PEOPLE. AND ONE OF THE BLONDES HAS A BLONDE ASSISTANT SO I MIGHT CHANGE IT

[professionallydeadinside]

This wip of the masters is killing me,,,,,,,but I'm so close to finishing it,,,,,

[thebestsetter]

The hear me out cake.

It has been, for the past month, a famous trend on Tik Tok.

And today, it has proven to be the bane of your existence.

"Tsumu, please" You tried to open the door, but it was locked

"No! Don't look at me! I'm too ugly! Hideous!"

"No you're not!" You sighed audibly

"Quit decieving me! I know I am!"

This has been going on for hours now. And you don't know how to put an end to it.

It all started when you were both just chilling on the couch this morning, right after you woke up from a movie night. Atsumu's head was on your chest as he looked over at your phone, watching videos with you as you scrolled through the endless abyss of Tik Tok.

Everything was going fine: with one of your hands massaging his blond locks and the other holding your phone up, he was really starting to get sleepy. This week of training was harsh, after all. This was all he needed: a relaxing weekend with the love of his life.

It was all going fine. Really.

Until it wasn't. Until that damned video appeared on your "for you" page.

"Our hear me out cake!"

Two girl, probably barely above 16, said together while smiling at the camera. A big chocolate cake was seen next to the camera, and they held printed images of characters and celebrities.

Both you and Atsumu already knew about the trend. You're both chronically online, after all. So, you decided to watch the video.

After a while, you were starting to get bored of it. You were going to scroll, but decided against it. You kept watching.

And damn it, you really should have skipped this video. You really should have. It would have spared you of a lot of suffering.

Because the next and last "Hear me out" the girls showed was...

"Atsumu Miya. The volleyball player"

"No way" one of them laughed "No way you're into him"

Oh oh. This is NOT good.

"HUH?" Atsumu jumped off of you, snatching the phone from your hands and rewinding the video to make sure he heard it right.

"Hey, Tsumu! Give me my phone back!" You said, trying to forcefully grab it back yet not managing to. You were no match for a literal athlete, afterall.

"Atsumu Miya. The volleyball player"

"No way. No way you're into--"

"Tsumu..."

"Atsumu Miya. The volleyball player"

"No way. No way--"

"Atsumu."

"Atsumu Miya. The volleyball player"

"No way--"

"Atsumu Miya."

"Atsumu Miya--"

"Atsumu Miya--"

"Atsumu Miya!"

You "stole" your phone back, glaring at him

"You can't just grab people's phone like that! It's disrespectful and..."

Just one look at him made you forget you were even angry at him before.

He looked utterly and undoubtdely heartbroken.

"Tsumu..."

"Be honest" he started, looking at the ground "Do you think I'm ugly? Am I a... hear me out?"

"God, Tsumu, no!" You hugged him tightly "You're beautiful, my love!"

"You don't need to lie to make me feel better!" He pushed you away and dramatically put his hand on his chest. "I know I look like a homeless guy who hasn't taken a shower for the last 3 weeks - no, years!"

"Tsumu, you know that's not true..." You tried to hug him again

"Don't come any closer!" He pushed your arms away "I'm going to isolate myself in my room so no one is infected by my uglyness!"

You would've been hurt if you didn't know your boyfriend.

He looked like a highschool girl who just got rejected by her crush right now, but all he needs is time to calm down. He'll get back to normal soon enough

Except he didn't.

And that's how you found yourself in the position you've been in for 2 endless hours: head against your shared bedroom's door and trying to convince Atsumu to open it.

"Tsumu, open the door, please" You sighed, sitting with your back against the door and waiting for a response, only to be met with silence

"Tsumu, you're not hideous" You heard footsteps approaching you.

"...really?" He said from across the door

Yes! It was working! He was actually listening to you now! You couldn't let this opportunity pass.

"Yes! You're one of the most - scratch that, the most handsome man I've ever met!" You got up, resting your hand against the door "You're beautiful inside and out, I love you and couldn't be prouder to have you as my lovely, amazing and beautiful boyfriend" You smiled, praying to God that this would do. You really just wanted to lay down and cuddle with him.

The door finally cracked open, but not entirely. You could only see one of his eyes peeking through the tiny opening he made

"Say that again" he said, eyes unblinking

"What?"

"Say that last part again" he looked at you, gaze so strong you felt weak "Please"

"I love you?? And I'm proud of having you as my boyfriend??"

"Why do you sound so full of doubt?!"

"I love you." You said, laughing a little "And I'm very proud to have you as my amazing boyfriend."

Maybe this worked! He'll finally open the--

Nevermind. The door was closed yet again.

Not again! What did you do wrong this time? Maybe it's because you were laughing? Well, you'll just have to try again--

"I LOVE YOU TOO!!" Atsumu said, opening the door and literally throwing himself at you.

"AHHH!"

It was so sudden that you crashed to the floor, with him on top of you and your lungs with little to no oxygen. You weren't sure how you were even breathing at this point.

"I love you!" Atsumu said again, resting his head against your boobs in a (hopefully) not perverted way.

"I love you too" you smiled, caressing his hair "Now, why don't we go watch a movie? I missed you! I didn't see you for 2 long, torturous hours!" You said, laughing a little

"Sure!" Atsumu answered, getting up. Then, like a kid who did (or rather, was planning to do) something naughty, he suddenly began to run away

"Where are you going?"

"I'm just going to write a little comment on that video!"

"ATSUMU, NO!" You got up and ran after him.

"ATSUMU YES!" He began to run faster.

You were not able to stop him in time. Again, he was an athlete, afterall.

His PR team had to deal with the media later.

Whatever. It's not like any of these people's opinions on him mattered anyway.

What matters is that you think he's handsome and funny and your lovely boyfriend. And he'll do his damn best to make sure that never changes.

~ I heard we have a new Atsumu fan here! Welcome @someprettyname!!

Masterlist

[fairykazu]

hi, petunia from lyney pretty please!

lynette's right. i did flip. from lyney note: three people asked for the same prompt + switches between name & y/n, switching povs, mildly inspired by flipped. i kinda lost the plot at some point, bare with me. prompt: realizing feelings event masterlist 𝜗𝜚 general masterlist

y/n l/n. the person who’s literally the bane of his existence. someone who’s a dork and stuck onto him like glue since the fifth grade. all he wanted from them was space. at least, two people apart. at this point, he’d be okay with arms length. lyney remembered it was the summer of eighth grade, nearing the end of middle school and the start of freshman year. but there was this– 

this person just barged into his life. more like if they shoved, wedged and snuck between the nooks and crannies, filling in the room with their annoying presence. thankfully, of course, his father, arlecchino saved him from name’s clutches every time. lyney would make a mini thank you to the hydro archon, focalors, when father would direct name to other places or lie about if lyney was just sleeping or had bow practice. 

though, on the other hand, lynette managed to befriend you. out of all the people she had to befriend, she picked you who was undoubtedly the most dangerous person in the world. ever! and his uncle had experimented on people! 

the betrayal lyney experienced within a mere second was hard to explain. well, from an outsider’s pov, he just looked like he was a fish out of water with an accusing pointed finger and a few gasps. it was so bad he started to have hiccups. when lynette saw him, he ducked his head behind the picket white fence as you laughed. “so vile… so evil…” he mumbled to himself, shaking and curled up like a ball. 

unfortunately for lyney, he remembers this specifically because his family has this moment framed. 

on the family picture wall.

that summer he was supposed to have fun, go outside and play with his friends. but instead, when he checked out the windows, there was you. you were camping out outside of your house, waiting to hunt him down. when you stopped attempting magic, he squinted his eyes, seeing a discarded magician hat– a real magician wouldn’t leave his tricks behind like that ! – you sat on the curb. face in your hands, sweaty and exhausted… from being evil.  

he remembered that dreadful day when you came over his house and the only thing the manliest man could do at the age of ten was hide behind his step-mom, columbina. his cautious eyes linger on your every step. he likes to say his eyes are the most feline part of him.  her wings fluttered as she chuckled at his reaction, “why won’t you play soccer with name and your sister, lyney?” 

“because…” lyney trailed off, his blonde hair tied in a messy ponytail. he bit the inside of his cheek, a bad habit that would haunt him until the end of time. if he would be honest and frankly, he wished he could, because he didn’t want to be kicked around by not only his sister but also you! instead he said grumpy,  “i don’t wanna play with them. i’m going to play with freminet.” 

columbia stifled a laugh as she pointed at the backyard’s door. lyney’s eyes followed her direction as he watched his little brother slide the backyard’s door to play soccer with his newfound enemies. internally, he was screaming, crying and bawling his eyes out. WHY FREMINET? first, lynette, now you?? it’s like this whole family is full of traitors. 

instead, as the older brother, he must be mature and understanding. the next words he utters have to reflect that. sure, his eyes do linger outside. and maybe, his fomo is acting up. his feet were itching to kick something, maybe a sphere bouncy rubber thing. but totally not a soccer ball.

his gaze looked at his siblings having fun. he knows that columbia can read him like a book but he’s not willing to break from his disgust of you. your eyes met his lilac ones, his face tinged with embarrassment for being caught red handed. his stepmom laughed a little but it’s not like he cares anyway. 

“whatever.”

*** 

in middle school, he thought he had escaped from your grasp. it was wishful thinking that you’d go to the school closer to your house instead. too bad, he forgot that you’re in the same district as him. 

maybe it was a little immature that he was willing to get away from your obsessive tendencies by using the girl you hated the most, mona megistus. for whatever reason why you hated mona in particular was beyond him but the information given by his gossip loving friend, venti, will definitely come into play. lyney went out of his way to hang out next to mona who seemed to enjoy this exchange. it continued until it spun out of his control. 

mona was telling everyone including you that he and she had fallen in love. she claimed that lyney would ask her out at the end of the week. she was particularly rubbing into your face too. but thats not because lyney cared about you, it’s only because it’s not true! she was deflaming his name! insulting his name means she was also insulting lynette and freminet. but most of all, his father’s name! 

maybe this is a big exaggeration. it’d likely not spread as far to his own father. but one thing for sure is that it’s definitely working. you weren’t coming too hot to him anymore. he spotted your eyes glaring daggers into mona and this is when lyney knew… 

you will never come close after that. 

right? 

*** 

when you first moved into fontaine, your mother insisted it was the city of love. if it was, then where was your father in this situation? gone off and away as the hydro dragon weeps, rushing a storm in the city. maybe, the hydro dragon knows there’s no means of loving someone in this life. until you met him, lyney snezhevich– honestly, recounting this story sounds even cheesier than the previous retelling. 

it was a dark rainy night and there was he. just kidding, that’s just daydreamer mode. it was a rainy day though. it was the first time you’ve been to fontaine and frankly, a little lost. your mother had disappeared from view, your clothes were soaked in cold water as you sat under a shop’s awning. pitiful really… like a sopping wet cat. 

no one else would interact with you but he did. well, actually, you have no idea if he remembers it at all but he lent you a hand alongside lynette and their father. 

lyney’s eyes smiled as he pulled you under their makeshift, blanket tent, showing you his magic tricks which failed numerous times but he played it off. it was cute. however, it ended far too quickly; they warmed you up in ten minutes and sent you back to your parent. but those ten minutes you wished had been a lifetime. it had more warmth literally and figuratively you’ve felt in a long good long time since father had left. 

eighth grade had ended and so did your friendship with mona megistis. your best friend since the first grade betrayed you just for a glimpse of popularity. with her stupid long, silk hair tied into pigtails and her fake pitched giggle sounding like a distorted laughing track on some kids television, she smugly showed off her new entourage. you laughed at the fact that she used to boast that you two came in a package of get one, get the other free– a two-for-one deal. bitterly the following memory, right after when school ended, she went up to you, telling you she found new friends to appreciate her more than you did. 

as if! 

she kept feeding everyone lies like it was her second nature. if anyone cared to lend their ear to you, they’d know that you were the giving tree to her little greedy self. whatever, who cares that you don’t have any more friends left? right? 

well, the upside is that you befriended lynette and her brother, freminet during the summer. but lyney? not so much though you try your best to get on his good side. like this one time, when you went over to the snezhevich family’s backyard, playing soccer with the two out of three snezhevich siblings. you caught his gaze on you, making you feel a bit self conscious. was your hair frizzy? did you have an eye booger in the corner of your eyes? oh god, did he notice your mismatched socks? you waved at him, smiling as he swiftly turned around, flustered ears as he walked off.

what was he embarrassed of? until this day, it still makes you wonder. maybe it’s that framed photo of him looking like a fish out of water. haha but that was cute though. 

maybe it was fate that you were in the same school, same grade and same class as lyney in highschool. okay, you sound a little tad insane there but the chances of having the same second period aka the same homeroom as lyney? 1 in six chances! SIX.

you thanked whichever archon in charge of love. maybe she knew you and lyney were destined to be together forever and everr…

or not! 

not when miss grabby hands mona megistus with her stupid hair and stupid smirk on her face has her greasy hands wrapped around lyney’s arm. just seeing her face next to a total dreamboat makes you so upset. it was to a point lynette thought you had become a hot kettle and joked if she can use you to brew some tea. 

… that was pretty funny though.

but lynette doesn’t get it. she doesn’t know how twisted mona could be. it has only been two weeks since she was spotted hanging out with lyney and yet, she told everyone that they’re in love and bound to get married in high school. 

[melancholymarrow]

Heyyy idk if this has been done before, but I went crazy and made a very detailed Howl's Moving Castle AU for Gravity Falls :DD

(Sorry in advance for the lack of arms. Drawing arms is like the bane of my existence hhhhh)

Lore for the au below cut

Basically, Fiddleford is Sophie, and Stanford is Howl. Fidds is like an engineer, but he wants to be an inventor & experiment with mixing magic and tech.

Ford, better known as The Great Wizard Stanford, is both a sorcerer and a scientist. When he was younger, he swallowed a star, making a deal with it. In exchange for great wisdom and power, Ford traded his heart. When this happened, the star's soul split in two. One latched on to a piece of Ford’s soul, taking his heart as it's vessel. This entity is Cipher, who appears as a ball of blue fire with a small yellow triangle with one eye in it's center. Cipher is Calcifer in this au. Because this part of the soul merged partly with Ford's, they share/swap some personality traits. Cipher has more of a conscience than og Bill, and Ford is a bit more vain about his appearance (he magics his hair blonde for a while at the start of the story).

The other part of the star's soul became a human-appearing demon. He named himself Bill, but most know him as the Demon of the Falls. Bill worked closely together with Ford for a time, but ended up betraying him and showing his true colors. After this, Ford fought Bill but ended up fleeing when it became clear he would lose the battle. He's been spending years trying to find a way to defeat Bill so that he doesn't hurt many more people.

The mystery twins take the place of Markl in this au. The Stans are just their uncles in this au, not great uncles. Shermie is their dad, and he's away fighting in the war. The twins were sent to live with Stanford when the war started so that Ford would keep them safe and also teach them magic.

Stanley takes the place of Turnip Head. Stan had been pretending to be Ford for a while to scam people, and Bill accidently tracked him down instead of Ford. Bill was pissed when he figured this out and cursed Stan to be a scarecrow. Fiddleford, when he was leaving home after he'd been cursed, found Stan stuck in a bush. He'd thought he could use the stick as a cane, but quickly found out it was another guy with a curse on him. Stan had been stuck in the bush for three days and could tell that Fidds had also been cursed, so he decided to help him out. Stan gave Fidds his 8-ball staff to use as a cane and led him to the moving castle.

I have wayyy more already thought out if y'all are interested at all. Might post some art of other characters in the au later.

[writingpei]

wicked games - lee minho

pairing: lee minho x f!reader genre: academic rivals to lovers cw: curse words, parental abuse and neglect, unhealthy relationship with studying, bullying, minho is a dick sometimes summary: park y/n thinks lee minho is an idiot (regardless of how many 100% scores he scored on countless tests, how many of his papers were praised by professors, and how many ugly academic olympic trophies he won), but she can't quite remember who she was before he came along to be the bane of her fucking existence. when the two go head-to-head for a scholarship to her dream college, all hell breaks loose at haneul high school. ⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎… ⋙

￫ chapter one: destiny works in mysterious ways (wc: 4.3k)

↳ eventful timeline of terror that marked unpleasant but fundamental moments for the comprehension of the relationship between y/n and minho, its apex in the current moment in which the story takes place, the unpredictable senior year of high school

￫ chapter two: off to the races (wc: 3k)

↳ the proposal of a scholarship won through a competition is rubbed in the students' faces by the school and park y/n and lee minho can't be expected not to fly at each other's throats in the process of trying to win over one another

￫ chapter three: hit you harder (wc: 4.5k)

↳ being forced to pair up with minho in the chem lab makes for an unpleasant start to y/n's morning, but the strange blonde boy who awaits her at his knees at the end of the class makes an interesting turn of events

￫ chapter four: rumour has it (wc: 4k)

↳ rumors between y/n and hyunjin fly loose through the halls of haneul high school, and when they reach minho's ears, who knows what it might do to him

￫ chapter five: roses are fine, but i like the harder stuff (wc: 3.2k)

↳ how could minho prefer anything his money could buy over the blind hatred she felt for him?

￫ chapter six: color me green (wc: 2.6k)

↳ when school's valentine's day arrives, very little can spoil minho's good mood, especially when he finally finds out who the hwang hyunjin guy is… not that he cares anyway

￫ chapter seven: action and reaction (wc: 2.1k)

↳ when the stars start to drip from the sky, minho sees himself having to do the thing he hates the most in the world: go home

￫ chapter eight: i'll be your mirror (wc: 2.6k)

↳ triggered by the weight of his home, minho runs to the one who is always there for him; a deep dive into the friendship between him and yongbok

￫ chapter nine: welcome to the jungle (wc: 2.7k)

↳ the running for school's student council president is happening, which can only mean one thing... they want to kill each other (again)

￫ chapter ten: detention (wc: 2k)

↳ minho did something bad, but his name not being said on stage and the round of applause not being meant for him makes it all worth it

￫ chapter eleven: savior complex (wc: 2.4k)

↳ "the way to hell is paved with good intentions", but does that saying extend to the complexion of hwang hyunjin or does it stop only for him?

￫ chapter twelve: i'm looking through you (wc: 2.5k)

↳ yongbok started to plant a seed inside minho's head to try and make him realize what his feelings really mean, but he's almost figuring it out on his own

￫ chapter thirteen: feels like we only go backwards (wc: 3.5k)

↳ the hostility between minho and y/n is too much to bear even by the people around them, that’s why throwing them in a small room and locking them up together seemed like a good idea at a first glance

￫ chapter fourteen: i still don’t know where everything went (wc: 5.2k)

↳ something is going on inside minho but he can’t quite put his finger on it. the school’s basketball game, however, can only make his confusion worse

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Zelda: According to the ancient texts, the legendary hero has always appeared initially in as one of these roles; a knight, a farm hand or a blacksmith. He also usually resides in some kind of forest area, so that's where we're going to look next.

Gerudo Link: *Rolling his eyes* Going by that logic should we also check the skies as well if we're going for any hero sightings in the last... Oh I don't know, 100,000 years or so?!

.......Cut to a small village in the edge of a forgotten forest........

G!Link: You seriously think that one of your 'legendary heroes' is going to be here?

Zelda: Just shush and help me look...

Villager: *Approaches them on a chestnut mare with a white mane and tail* Are you two lost?

.....The villager is a young man around the age of the fabled hero with a sword strapped securely to his back....

G!Link: Got any heroes around here?

Villager: None who would be taken with any measure of seriousness, why?

Zelda: Aha! But there's one!

Villager: you're free to look around. Just don't cause trouble.

......The villager leaves leaving the two to look around....

G!Link: So I asked around and the villagers had some pretty interesting things to say about our friend with the horse.

Zelda: Go on...

G!Link: Well for starters he protects this village from the surrounding monsters.

Zelda: mhm...

G!Link: He works on the local ranch using his horse to help with the herding.

Zelda: mhm! Mhm!

G!Link: The sword he carries he forged himself.

Zelda: That's it! He has to be the legendary hero we're searching for!

G!Link:...the legendary hero YOU'RE searching for...

.......They approach the villager in question.....

Villager: can I he-

Zelda: *cutting him off* I do believe I have finally found one worthy of wielding the blade of evil's bane!

Villager: What are you-

Zelda: No no. There's no need to be modest about it. I've been searching for one with the hero's spirit for some time now! And out of everyone who I've encountered you fit the bill entirely!

Villager: Umm... *Looks to G!Link who offers no help*

Zelda: What's your name? Oh who am I kidding you're obviously named Link!

Villager: I'm not-

Zelda: Come, there's been enough time wasted already we must move to collect the Master Sword and awaken you to the powers that lie within the hero.

G!Link: Zelda... Maybe let the guy speak?

Zelda: Oh, right... Say your piece hero.

Villager: I don't think I'm who you're looking for...

Zelda: But you're the perfect match! A young warrior who protects the people with the spirit of courage!

Villager: What?

Zelda: Your name's Link... Is it not...?

Villager: No... My name's Daniel... If you want Link he's at the ranch.

....Zelda goes to the ranch....

Zelda: I'm here to see Link.

Ranch owner: Uhh.... Sure, he's over here.

....The ranch owner walks over to a blonde hylian boy who's brushing a goat...

Ranch hand: Well Link, you've got a visitor.

Zelda: *Rushing to the blonde* Link!? Oh this is great I knew visiting this village wasn't a complete loss.

Ranch owner: *Laughing* Your highness. The boy isn't Link.

Zelda: He... Isn't?

Ranch owner: No! Link's the goat.

Zelda: WHATT!?

....Cut to the inn....

Zelda: *wrapped up in a blanket sniffling* So far... So very far... A five day journey... FOR A GOAT!!

G!Link: you know... Link, The Goat of Legend has a nice ring to it.

Zelda: *Throws a pillow at him* Oh shut up you!

G!Link: You could always try convincing the other forest guy with the dog again.

Zelda: 🥲

-🦆

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AJFKSLJEIWOAJGKDLSAIHEOWTJFDKSAJFDLSAGKHDAS LINK'S THE GOAT I AM WHEEZING

"Link, The Goat of Legend has a nice ring to it" JFIWOAJTEKWAJFDSIOAJF I LOVE GERUDO LINK'S SASS

This is amazing XD XD XD Exactly the kind of chaos I'm looking for with these gremlins

[random-of-random]

Can I Save You?

Chapter 2: I’m Going to Get You Out of This

The airport was quiet, Patricia had never seen an airport that quiet when it wasn’t after midnight. Still filled with people, they were huddled around televisions watching Bane's latest statement. Patricia and Wilson stopped to watch with them.

"Behind you stands a symbol of oppression; Blackgate Prison, where a thousand men have languished under the name of this man..." He was holding up a picture. The man had blonde hair and a kind smile. "Harvey Dent, who has been held up to you as the shining example of justice."

"Who is Harvey Dent sir?" Patricia asked.

"The old DA. He was said to have been killed by Batman." Wilson replied.

"You have been supplied with a false idol to stop you from tearing down this corrupt city. Let me tell you the truth about Harvey Dent from the words of Gotham's police commissioner, James Gordon." Bane continued. Patricia saw a woman in the airport crying. Her dirty blonde hair was hanging at her face and two teenagers were sitting on either side of her. The girl had her head in her mothers shoulder, but the boy, however, the same blonde hair as his mom's was staring intently at the television. His eyes were dark but Patricia saw something he was clearly trying to hide. Fear, but not fear for him, fear for someone else. The mention of Commissioner Gordon's name had caught attention. "'The Batman didn't murder Harvey Dent, he saved my boy then took the blame for Harvey's appalling crimes so that I could, to my shame, build a lie around this fallen idol. I praised the mad man who tried to murder my own child but I can no longer live with my lie. It is time to trust the people of Gotham with the truth and it is time for me to resign.' " The woman cried harder.

"Well, this is certainly going to make things a lot worse." Wilson said, his hand was tapping his belt. A nervous twitch he had adopted when he was promoted to director.

"And do you accept this man's resignation? Do you accept the resignation of all these liars? Of all the corrupt?"

"What's he getting at?" Wilson asked. Patricia felt her heart racing.

"What ever it is, sir. It's nothing good."

"We take Gotham from the corrupt! The rich! The oppressors of generations who have kept you down with myths of opportunity, and we give it back to you... the people. Gotham is yours. None shall interfere. Do as you please. Start by storming Blackgate, and freeing the oppressed!" Bane continued. "Step forward those who would serve. For and army will be raised. The powerful will be ripped from their decadent nests, and cast out into the cold world that we know and endure. Courts will be convened. Spoils will be enjoyed. Blood will be shed. The police will survive, as they learn to serve true justice. This great city... it will endure. Gotham will survive!" As he finished his speech, the cameras quickly moved. A tank had a gun pointed at them. The camera dropped and there was a moment of static as a loud bang sounded through it's microphones.

"My God!" The cameraman must have been the one talking. The camera pointed at a now gaping hole in the side of a wall. For a moment there was just dust settling, but then men, by the dozens, wearing orange jumpsuits and carrying guns of every kind came storming through. The camera cut off and a reporter came quickly into view. Sitting in a studio, she was claiming technical difficulties.

"At least we know the police are safe for right now." Patricia commented. "Down in those sewers, they might not be able to help, but the prisoners can't get to them either."

“You called it, about going after the rich.”

“I think he wants chaos.” Patricia said with a sigh. “This just helps get there quicker.”

"We should be going." Wilson stated and Patricia followed them to get their luggage.

The sunlight was almost painful after being in the artificial light of the airport. A young man walked up to them, he couldn't have been more than twenty-one. He looked like how television and movies think FBI agents should look. He was dressed in a black suit, black tie, and dark sunglasses. His light blonde hair almost looked out of place.

"Mr. Wilson? Miss. Robertson?" He asked.

"Mr. Tiller?" Wilson replied and the kid nodded before smiling. Patricia could tell he was wearing a gun on his hip and another on his ankle. He graciously picked up Patricia's bag and lead them to a black SUV. Patricia climbed in the back and leaned her head back against the headrest. She studied the outside world once the vehicle started moving through the city. DC looked normal, despite the crisis in Gotham. People went in and out of grocery shops, moms took their children into daycare, and college kids went into bars for an early drunk. She couldn't imagine what the people of Gotham were experiencing. As far as she knew no one had left the city, the military wasn't letting anyone across the only bridge left and the tunnels out of the city had been blocked. The SUV they were in came to a standstill and Patricia sat up.

"I'm sorry." Tiller said quickly. "It's about that time. Traffic can come to a crawl or worse sometimes. I'll have us there as soon as I can." Patricia let her body fall against the comfortable seat.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Bane. The current Bane, cold, heartless. She closed her eyes anyway. Nightmares had stopped her normal sleep pattern. Well, what she called a normal sleep pattern. Going from 4 hours a night to 1 was just unhealthy. A thought popped into her head as she felt the seat behind her, a memory.

————-——————-

"How long have we been running for?" Patricia asked. She was sitting in a chair in a very small hotel room in Berlin, Germany.

"2 years?" Dominic replied. "You were 14 when we left."

"Then two years." Patricia commented.

"You should have stayed to finish school." Dominic's voice sounded sad.

“You’re less than two years older than me. You should have finished school.” The lines around his eyes increased and she could tell that he was smile. Dominic was laying on the hotel room bed. His body was tired, they had been in China the previous morning, and his belt had been taken off. As long as he didn't move the pain would stay at bay.

“I… I’m ready to tell you.” Dominic said barely above a whisper.

"About what happened to you?" Patricia asked her voice turning serious. She could see a flash of pain cloud his eyes. Not physical pain, mental. "I told you that you don’t have to tell me-“

"I didn't want to scare you." He said quietly. Patricia stood up and moved to the opposite side of the bed, trying her best not to move the bed very much she laid down beside him. She heard him sigh.

“You’re not going to scare me.” She pushed some hair off of his forehead.

"I was three or four. My mom woke me up late one night.” He started, his eyes closed. “I remember my room was so dark. She told me to hide under the bed. Men had broken into our home. I could hear stomping, a-and shouting. The men burst into my room and they found me, quickly. When they pulled me out from under the bed my mom began fighting them."

He took a ragged breath and Patricia felt his hand softly grasp hers. "It’s okay. I’m right here.” She assured him.

“She was so strong. She attacked the guy who was holding me. I think she stabbed him with something, but he was strong. He pulled me to the window. My room was on the second floor. He shouted something down, in a language I didn't understand. Then he dropped me."

Patricia inhaled sharply. Her eyes were wide and she squeezed his hand, urging him to continue.

"I felt an excruciating pain shoot down my back and I cried out, but as soon as I screamed a boot was put on my face. Someone trying to keep me quiet. I felt like I was suffocating and I tried kicking and pushing, but whenever I moved the pain was horrible. I saw my mom sneaking around the side of the house. The man holding me didn't." His eyes looked as if he was in a far off place. "I could feel warm blood running down my face mixing with tears. My mom jumped on the man. They fell into the darkness of the back yard and I tried to get up, call after her but all that came out was a scream. It hurt so bad that I passed out.”

He didn’t even realize he had been crying until Patricia wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“When I woke up I was in a hospital room and my mom was sitting a chair next to me. I felt so weak that I couldn't move. Mom told me not to."

"Do you know what hospital?" Patricia asked.

Dominic nodded. “Where your dad worked.” Patricia’s dad was a surgeon. “I guess I had just come out of an operation. Your dad was talking to my mom. He told her my back was severely broken and would never be the same. He wanted to do a lot of surgeries and my mom told him that we needed to run. That they would still come looking got me. So, he told her the only thing they could do is keep giving me pain killers. I think he performed, at least, one more surgery. I was in and out for what felt like weeks. The anesthetic and pain meds they were using just made me tired. It was the only time I wasn't in pain. We stayed there until I was healed enough to move then we were on the run.”

"Why?" Patricia asked. "Why are these men after you?"

"My father owes a debt." Dominic said with a sarcastic smile. "He offered me. That I be put in a prison instead of him."

"He can't do that!"

"Where he's from, he can. I am suppose to rot in prison for him." Patricia moved closer to him and rested her forehead against his shoulder. "They started catching up to us when I was eight. My mom knew we couldn't keep running."

"That's when you guys came to us." Patricia remembered. "You were about 8 then."

"My mom knew we could trust your dad after all the help he gave us before. Plus, your parents and my mom go way back.”

“I remember my mom saying they were friends as kids.” Patricia offered.

“When my mom left me there I was barely coherent. I remember the news story your dad brought into me saying she was found dead."

"I'm sorry Dominic." Patricia said softly.

"You saved me." He was looking at her.

"Not yet." She replied seriously. I am going to get you out of this. In one way or another." She felt his hand squeeze hers as he closed his eyes.

———————————

Patricia's door opened and the bright light was almost blinding.

"Sorry if I woke you." Tiller said shyly.

"I wasn't sleeping." Patricia replied stepping out of the car. She fixed her blazer and followed Wilson into a back entrance to the white house. She was immediately searched, and then they were led into the heart of the white house and down toward a basement. The situation room there was white and very well lit, a stark contrast MI6. FBI director Parsons was there to greet them and they took two seats around a large table. The secretary of defense as well as the president were among the people chosen to decide what to do about Bane.

"Wilson, you seemed to have an idea over the phone. What was it?" Parsons asked.

"I think we should send men in with the food. Workers will have to drive the food in to the city. It should be special forces, a chosen few. We take their badges, give them different ID's, and send them in."

"The first rations will go in within a few days. We can have fake IDs for all the forces made by then" Parsons commented.

"With all do respect sir." Patricia started. "We should not make a move that quickly."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean that Bane's men will be weary of any workers coming into the city. They'll expect cops. They need to be the same rotations of workers. The special forces and myself-"

"You think you're going in there?" Parsons asked.

"I know I'm going in there." Patricia answered. "I know Bane better than any of you. I've studied him. I'm also trained in the field." No one said anything. "Now, the special forces soldiers and myself should go every time. We need the men checking out the trucks to recognize us. Think that we're normal civilians who won't do anything."

"Alright, Robertson." The President said carefully. "Then you start as soon as the first shipment goes in."

"Yes, sir." Patricia replied.

“How long are we thinking this could last?” The President asked.

“As of now, sir.” Parsons started with a sigh. “We really have no idea how long it will take.”

The days and planning ticked away slowly. Patricia's ID read 'Megan Reilly' and their first trip into Gotham was rapidly approaching. They had picked several special forces officers that would rotate in and out. Communications with the saved commissioner Gordon as well as his detective had been made. They grocery shop they were going to had a back room where they would meet.

The ride across the bridge was slow and nerve racking. Patricia's driver was nervous and they were stopped before crossing completely. Men dressed for gorilla warfare checked their ID's. One eyed Patricia suspiciously.

"England?" He asked, looking at her ID.

"Yes." she answered quickly.

"Why are you here?" He asked. She took notice of the machine gun hanging off of his shoulder.

"I came for the American dream. Didn't turn out as I expected." He laughed and Patricia felt her body slightly relax as he handed her ID back and let them pass. The shop was half stocked when they arrived. As the truck began unloading the man at the counter signaled Patricia to head to the back. She was unnaturally nervous and could hear her heart beating. He was somewhere in this city. Somewhere closer than they'd been in a long time. The first person she saw had dark hair and matching eyes. He was younger but his eyes looked hardened. Immediately he walked up to her.

"John Blake." He said while shaking her hand.

"Gordon's detective." Patricia said returning the handshake. "Patricia Robertson, MI6."

"Good to meet you." He said hurried.

"You'll see me every time a delivery is made. We're trying to get the guards used to us, to trust us. Eventually we'll come in with more power and some of us will start to stay, build up as many men as possible."

"We need all the help we can get."

"Try to keep people calm." Patricia said softly. "Hopefully people won't fall for Bane's ploy. Stay hidden and get as many high standing members of Gotham society to hide as well. You'll see me soon."

"Thank you."

"Good luck, Blake. Be safe out there."

[kat-is-laem-oa]

Chapter 2: Jewel

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

“You are more than welcome to sit beside me if you want, little one.”

“I’m not little, bichote big shot.” They’d just walked through the door, and Eljah was focusing on what the bar had to offer.

“Standing next to me you are… I’m now realizing I never caught your name. I’m Magnus Bane.”

“Magnus Bane?… shit.”

“You’ve heard of me?” He wanted to say how could I not? You’re essentially my best friend’s adoptive father and I find you attractive, but that was over sharing.

“Through a friend.”

“I might just know this friend. Care to share?” The much younger warlock cracked each of his fingers one by one and turned his rings habitually.

“Raphael.”

“Raphael?” he repeated in surprise. “Wow, small world. I didn’t know he had many out-of-town friends.”

“I would’ve come with him, but he had business to attend to, wouldn’t tell me what.”

“Your name?”

“Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you.”

—

After introducing himself over a couple shots of whiskey, Eljah’s head was spinning to the point he had to let it flop back to stabilize the vibrating under his skin. He was sitting on a couch near the bar and he had sunk into it upon contact. His hearing was intact but his focus was not, weaving between the fellow warlock, the music, and the people dancing on the floor.

It was clear Magnus intended to learn more about Eljah. But Eljah didn’t want to be rude. This was the high warlock of Brooklyn. Eljah hadn’t traveled all the way here to upset anyone.

“I’m not much of a conversationalist.”

“No worries. I’m sure we have enough history combined to entertain ourselves. I have plenty of time before my meeting.”

“You’re meeting someone? In a club?”

Magnus chuckled after placing his drink on the silver table in front of him. “Some Shadowhunters is all.” He didn’t notice the immediate discomfort of his new friend, so he continued, “they’re offering a necklace that has been precious to me for centuries for my services.”

“Shadowhunters?” Eljah’s arms stretched to meet the corner of the couch and he turned to survey the club for said shadowhunters. Magnus’ eyebrows drew together as he observed Eljah.

“Not friendly with them, either?” Magnus asked curiously.

“What?”

“I asked if you were friendly with them or not. Is that why you’re so worried now?”

“Uh, no no. But I try my best to steer clear, you know? I should probably buy a bottle and head back.”

“Where are you heading back to? I can portal you if you’d like.” Magnus emphasized if you’d like with a lift of his hand to remove sparkles and various sequins that had fallen in Eljah’s hair. Eljah felt back for flinching momentarily when the older warlock moved, but it didn’t phase him.

“I prefer walking, honestly. And I don’t like to share where I’m going. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course. But I can’t have a young warlock in danger now, can I?” The man pulled a mirror out of thin air to check his eyeliner and Eljah took his moment to watch him. When he was going to object again, Magnus’ name was called. The two turned to the noise made by a blonde shadowhunter quickly approaching alongside a redhead. Magnus’ face dropped, all semblance of fun gone.

Magnus acknowledged the strawberry woman as Clary Fairchild and expressed that she’d grown into a beautiful young woman. She seemed less than impressed.

“Magnus Bane. So, you’re the one who stole my memories.” Eljah inaudibly gasped and awkwardly looked around, attempting to step back. He began to, but his senses activated and his body locked up.

His eyes blurred and he could see the other two who’d branched off from the group re-grip their weapons, clearly ready to cause trouble for Eljah.

“At your mother’s request. She knew the risk.” Magnus and Clary looked each other up and down, shared feelings of annoyance on display. “Show me the jewelry, shadowhunter. You’ve interrupted me and my new acquaintance for long enough.”

A gorgeous necklace unraveled from the blonde shadowhunter’s hand. To any mundane, it looked like a massive ruby, but for those aware of what lurked in the shadows, it was more than that. Magnus was being teased by the blonde, who pulled the necklace back before he could grab it.

“Give Clary back her memories, and you get the jewelry.”

Magnus was not new to this process, however. “I have to confirm its authenticity.” He wiggled his fingers to beckon the shadowhunter to pass it over, which happened begrudgingly.

“Amor verus numquam moritur. True love cannot die. Oh, how I’ve missed this jewel,” Magnus sighed.

“Now it’s your turn to pay up,” Clary ordered.

Magnus’ next words shocked more than just the shadowhunters. “I wish I could retrieve your memories, but I no longer have them..”

“What? Where are they!?”

“I fed them a memory demon for safekeeping.” The lack of context made Eljah’s head swirl, and he sat down on the nearest cushion while the arguing grew.

“And why the hell would you do that?” The blonde angrily asked.

“To protect Clary and the cup. If Valentine ever captured me, he could torture Clary’s memories out of me. Just like he tortured Dot.”

Raphael had told Eljah briefly about what he knew of Valentine—which wasn’t much, other than he wanted all downworlders dead. Essentially, the white supremacist of the shadow world. His vampire friend warned him to take safer, more open routes anywhere he went unless he wanted to end up dead or experimented on.

“Tortured? Wait, is Dot okay?”

“You don’t know?” there was a strong beat of slimy silence, “Dot is dead.” Clary whispered, “what?” in response, her face paler underneath her makeup now. She kept shaking her head in disbelief, “how do you know?”

“I can’t feel her magic anymore,” Magnus visibly deflated. “Valentine killed her because she would not betray your mother.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Come with me, Clary,” the high warlock offered, “my lair can offer you protection no shadowhunter ever could.” The sneer in his voice was strong at the mention of angelic beings. Said beings only scoffed and Clary followed with quick rejection.

“No, I’m not going anywhere with you.” Eljah was considering leaving again as the bass of a new song boosted and the drink he’d sipped earlier was making him sweat—downworld drinks hit differently… alongside the weed in his system. He was certainly waking up at the mention of important topics, but he needed to stay seated longer.

“Don’t be a fool. Your mother would want you to live.”

“Then help me get my memories back from whatever demon you gave them to.”

“Valentine is hunting you, too,” Magnus sounded venomous now, “and every moment we’re outside my lair’s protection, is a moment Valentine gets closer to finding us.”

Magnus clapped his hands together, releasing his magic to create a purple, bubbling portal. Not forgetting about his new friend, he turned to him.

“The offer extends to you as well. Are you well enough to get back home?” Eljah didn’t speak, nodding curtly to signal he would leave on his own. Clary and her protector looked at each other as she considered the same, but the blonde shook his head.

“I won’t offer again.” Magnus rolled his eyes and waited in annoyance.

Clary’s response was bold to Eljah, and far too earnest and emotional. She claimed she wouldn’t hide from her problems, and neither should Magnus, which made Eljah annoyed too. How shadowhunter of her to respond that way. He understood the need to get things done, but the shadowhunters weren’t the ones being hunted. How could she possibly digest if hiding or not hiding was appropriate? Downworlders didn’t have the same privileges.

Distracted in his thoughts, he didn’t notice any danger looking nearby.

“Look out!” Within seconds, an arrow shot through the club and hit someone. Eljah shot up in fear, auto-gripping his stele from his pocket, but tried to remain stoic as he approached the now deceased shadowhunter.

An incredibly tall, brunette shadowhunter who shot the arrow rushed through and kneeled beside Eljah, checking his pulse. He didn’t hear Magnus whisper, “who are you?”. Eye contact with their savior distracted Eljah.

“Are you okay?” The brunette whispered quickly. Eljah nodded again, standing to make space for the others.

Clary yelled out for Magnus as he attempted to leave. “You’re my only hope.”

“Valentine found us. I warned your mother this might happen.” He disintegrated into the portal and Clary stood with a clenched fist containing a button from his shirt.

A beautiful female shadowhunters followed the path of the previous, telling them, “the area’s secure. Looks like he was the only assassin.” Eljah turned away from the group and lifted his left sleeve to access his Iratze rune, ridding him of his high so he could leave safely. He assumed no one saw.

“He has a circle rune on the base of his neck,” the attractive male brunette added.

“They found us. It’s not safe here. Clary, we have to go!” The blonde’s words fell on deaf ears as Clary stood still in shock. Eljah wanted to approach, ask if she was okay, but he couldn’t move. The once boisterous club felt stuffy now.

Eljah was walking backward to leave, aggressively bumping into someone.

“It’s not safe for you either, even if you’re from a different institute. No shadowhunter is safe,” the tall man spoke in monotone, “there is space in the New York Institute and we may need the help.”

“I’ll be just fine on my own, but thank you. Just take care of your redhead and good luck.”

“No, he’s right,” the blonde stopped Eljah, “it’s not safe. Come back to the institute.”

“Are you gonna knife me if I don’t?”

“No, but who’s to say one of Valentine’s men won’t do the job as soon as you leave?”

Eljah sighed. Magnus’ lair now sounded nicer now than it did before.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

[salt-is-a-terrible-currency]

The ring

Written for day 10 of the Narcos fandom smut alphabet over on @narcosfandomdiscord

Fandom: Narcos

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Words: 1 110

Pairing: Javier x OFC Aurora

Prompt: jealousy

Warnings: smut, exhibitionism, angsty

Cameo by a young Matt Graver, my favourite asshole from the Sicario movies!

“That a Cane corso?” Aurora looks up, caught off-guard by the unfamiliar man’s voice at her left side. She’s met by bright blue eyes with dark blonde hair falling into them and a grin that she can’t interpret though she narrows it down to either self-assured or intoxicated, or possibly a combination of the two. He’s a couple of years younger than her, maybe late 20’s, and thick tanned arms poke out from the white t-shirt. He’s pointing to the tattoo on the outside of her left shoulder. It’s a portrait of Bane, the dog gifted to her by her grandfather when she went to college. The tattoo itself was her gift to herself for Christmas last year.

“Yeah.” Aurora rubs the tattoo absentmindedly. “She was my first dog.” The man grins even wider, like he’s won a bet.

“Always wanted one,” he says, “but I don’t think my lifestyle would allow it. I travel too much. Name’s Matt, by the way.” Matt reaches his hand out and, although hesitantly, Aurora shakes it. He’s got to be law enforcement, she thinks. His hands aren’t blistered like a rancher’s, but she’s never seen a businessman in bluejeans and drinking Lone Star.

“Good to meet you, Matt.” As she takes him in, another detail catches her eye. His footwear. Flip-flops. Who the hell wears flip-flops to a bar?

“You new in town?” she asks, trying her hardest not to stare at his exposed feet. Matt shrugs.

“I’ve passed through once before,” he explains, “but this time I’m staying a bit longer.” He might’ve gotten reassigned then, or maybe he’s doing part of his training here. Aurora nods in recognition but does nothing else to further the conversation. Matt props both elbows onto the bar, raises an eyebrow at her.

“So what’s your name?” he presses. Aurora considers the options. She doesn’t find him particularly intimidating, that icy feeling that runs down her spine whenever she speaks to people that are objectively bad news not making its presence known. Still, she doesn’t trust him.

“I don’t give out my name to strangers.” Aurora says it as politely as she can. She’s not in the mood to cause yet another scene at this particular bar, and hopes that Matt will have the decency to take the hint. He nods, flags down the bartender for another beer, then turns to her.

“Fair,” he agrees. “Let’s get to know each other then, so we won’t be strangers.” There’s that icy feeling, just a hint of it at the base of her skull.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, a little sterner now. Even if it wasn’t for Javier’s furrowed brow and pursed lips which she spots across the bar where he’s catching up with an old coworker from the sheriff’s office, she’d have no intention of continuing the conversation. Matt’s grin fades. Not fully, it just dims.

“Alright.” He throws his hands up. “I can take a no.” His voice is so easygoing, enough so that for a split second Aurora questions if she’s read him wrong. She silences that doubt quickly: so the guy’s charming, that doesn’t mean he’s not an asshole.

“Was nice talking to you though, Matt,” she says. “Hope Laredo treats you well.”

⁂

“Who was that?” Javier asks as soon as he’s reached her side. She shrugs, takes another sip of her beer.

“Some guy who’s in town for a bit. Tried to flirt but I shut him down.” Javier pouts and throws another glance over his shoulder at Matt, who has retreated to a booth where he’s talking to a redhead who she’s seen around but doesn’t know the name of. Aurora’s already moved on in her mind, wondering if the rest of the week will be as hellishly warm as the first three days have been, when Javier pipes up:

“What did he say to you?” There’s nothing subtle about Javier’s jealousy. He wears it on his sleeve, just like he does with his anger and his joy.

“Asked about my tattoo, gave me his name, asked me mine and when I said no he backed off,” Aurora summarizes. She turns to face Javier, reaches for his fingers and squeezes them gently. That finally makes him look at her instead of at Matt. He squeezes her fingers back.

“We need to fix your ring,” he states. He’s not wrong. The second Javier went to slip his mom’s ring around Aurora’s finger three weeks ago it became obvious that Maria and her did not share a ring size. Javier’s ears turned red with embarrassment and he mumbled his way through an apology for not finding a window to discreetly check Aurora’s size. She kissed him soundly and agreed that they could get it fixed sometime when they were running other errands in town.

“You’re right. How about tomorrow?” she suggests. “It’s about time for a grocery run, don’t you think?” It’s really not but she can see the way his mind is spinning out of control, and knows that if she doesn’t pull the brakes for him he’ll be up all night wondering if she’s about to regret the engagement and take off. Javier’s jaw, tense ever since he sat Matt lingering at your side, begins to relax.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees. “But there’s something we can do right now that would make it clear you’re taken.”

⁂

The pickup really isn’t made for this. Aurora raises herself as much as she can to give Javier space to work his jeans and briefs down, her head touching against the roof. She pulled her underwear off before climbing in, leaving them on the passenger seat while her skirt spreads over his lap to provide some cover should anyone come knocking at the window. He parked far enough away from the entrance that they’re not in plain view of anyone coming and going but not so far away that it could be considered hidden away. Javier fumbles his way inside of her, unused to the cramped space. He hasn’t done this in years, after all, not since his back started aching. Aurora lets him control the pace, the movements. Just rocks with him in the driver’s seat of the old car.

“Let me see the ring,” he rasps. She obeys, pulling the thin silver chain from where it’s fallen into her cleavage and lays it to rest on the outside of her tank top. Immediately, Javier’s eyes focus on it and the stabs of his hips turn more forceful. She rests her chin atop his head, presses a kiss to the damp curls.

“We’re getting it fixed tomorrow,” she promises.

[tempertyzias]

genuinely what is trigun

my biggest current hyperfixation, its like two and half mangas/two animes/a movie

it started as just the manga "Trigun", then was adapted into the 1998 anime, then the manga CONTINUED in the form of "Trigun Maximum" which has 14 volumes plus a little addon anthology book called "Multiple Bullets" (but I don't know much about it specifically). im on volume 11 and it is KILLING ME [positive]!! there was a movie, Badlands Rumble, in 2010, most people have kinda mixed feelings about it cause the characterization is questionable but I still like it. the latest rendition of it is Trigun Stampede, made by the same studio that made Beastars. you might also hear about "trigun omnibus"-- thats just a reprint of the manga condensed into 7 books instead of 14. Trigun Stampede was the first one I watched and its my personal favorite but I love all versions of it truly madly deeply. it's my absolute favorite kind of story: the kind that slow boils you like a frog, gradually getting more and more difficult to explain as it goes on, but that also makes it more and more difficult to get more people into it

the main character, Vash The Stampede, is a wanted gunman with a varying amount of money on his head depending on the rendition / point in time but usually 60 billion double dollars, except hes actually a pacifist who avoids violence if he can and refuses to kill. his designs vary between renditions (I think he wears like 7 different coats in the manga?) but generally, blonde spiky hair, orange glasses, prosthetic arm, red coat. trigun stampede is the most different design from the previous renditions, a lot simpler mostly (except for his arm, bane of many fanartists though I honestly really like drawing it) but basically hes my biggest blorbo I both love him and want to be him. people call him a twink but hes not hes built like a brick shithouse under the coat

hes usually accompanied by Wolfwood, religious trauma personified whos hard to describe because his personality varies the most between renditions-- though his design is pretty consistent across the board, wears a suit and carries a big wrapped-up cross thats actually a gun called "The Punisher". he's usually a priest, but in Stampede he's an undertaker. also before I knew what Trigun was when I saw people at a convention cosplaying him I thought he was a supernatural character

and Meryl and Milly (though Milly isn't in Trigun Stampede yet), who in most renditions are insurance agents assigned to follow Vash but then get attached to him like the sad pathetic wet cat he is

then theres Vash's fuckass twin brother who I hate, Millions Knives, edgelord supreme that, depending on the version, I either couldnt care less about or just flat out dislike. I'd probably see his appeal more if I didn't have sibling trauma but a lot of people are capital f Freaks about him and Vash's relationship the fandom has an incest ship problem worse than Homestuck its fucking dire out here and thats one of the contributing reasons I do not like him. its kindof hard to explain his motivations without spoiling pretty much the whole plot but hes the main antagonist of the story and basically just. a grown ass man consistently and obsessively trying to get his brother to side with him even though he wants to Kill and Vash does Not

theres a bunch more characters but ive already been typing for an hour about this and if I dont quit while im ahead ill be here all night and forget to eat. I will frantically half-explain Trigun to anyone who will listen because im DESPERATE to get more people into it without spoiling too much right out the gate (though usually I get way too ahead of myself and end up spoiling it anyway). my trigun hyperfixation probably borders on unhealthy but fuck it we ball

[necros-writing-stuff]

thick eden cum = higher sperm count

breeding kink go brrrr

I haven't said it on here, but I've already planned out the 4 kids my PC Kody and Eden are going to have :) If you were around when I did the younger AU, how about Next Gen Edenspawn?

Axel, Phobos and Deimos (twins boys), and Bella.

Axel takes after Eden the most, got raised by an Eden who was still a bad person. Hates town as an adult, wants to get a wife the same way his dad did. Via kidnapping. Eden named him, too. Has his own cabin a few clearings over, but spends a lot of time with his parents. Extremely emotionally constipated, no matter how much Kody tried to counteract Eden's harsher parenting style. He is slightly bitter towards his siblings that they got a nicer Eden than he did - and that he had to become an adult very quickly - but he will not allow anyone to say anything bad about his father at all. Spends his free time drinking/hunting with Eden or cooking with Kody. Otherwise, very into wood-carving. Born January 4th. Currently 27 in the AU.

Physical appearance:

6ft2, Eden's dark hair and facial structure, Kody's blue eyes (and her ears, which he finds weird that people mention). Has like no body hair and can't grow facial hair well, which pisses him off to no end. Same body build as Eden (stocky muscle). Dresses in plaids, plain shirts, cargo pants or clothes made from animal products. Covered in scars after a bad mental health period where he just went out hunting with 0 respect for his own health and had a bad run-in with the wolf pack.

Phobos is the older twin, Deimos is the younger. Phobos idolises Bailey. Deimos idolises Landry. They were older teens (like 19) when they start hanging out in town - also they're banned from most establishments for being little shits. Kody named them. Phobos is gay, but hasn't told anyone yet. Deimos is a man whore. They're both living above Landry's Bar, as he wants to pass it on to them, but they visit home often. They also bother Robin a lot, mostly asking if she'd like them to teach rude customers a lesson. She always laughs and tells them no. They were both mostly allowed to run amok because Kody beat it into Eden's head that he was far too harsh on Axel (true) and so he went almost full lax and oops now there's two tiny terrors. Deimos is a music snob. Phobos does a lot of charcoal sketches. Born October 11th. Currently 22 in the AU.

Appearances:

Brown hair, lightens up a lot in the summer. Brown eyes. Both 5ft8, slimmer builds, Kody's facial structure but Eden's eyes. Deimos has his septum and tongue pierced and tends to go for 80s punk inspired looks, while Phobos dresses more in slacks and sweaters. Phobos also has a nasty scar up his back from almost getting kebab-ed by a boar when he was 13. Phobos keeps his hair shorter and well-groomed, while Deimos keeps his long, often bleaches it blonde. It's kinda fried.

Bella is the youngest. Bella is short for Belladonna - aka, Wolf's Bane. She was tiny when she was born, but Eden gave her the name because she'd be a force to reckon with when she got older, he swore. She follows Axel around all of the time, lives in his cabin with him (they share most of the work equally), but still has curiosity towards town. Eden and Axel would spar a lot when she was a toddler, and they'd fake-fight her to make her laugh. The twins used to try and get her in trouble with pranks they'd pull, but Eden could never be mad at his golden child. The most emotionally available out of them all, but also deals with a tonne of anxiety. Got the bookworm gene. Also dances with her ma a lot, especially if Deimos brings his guitar over to play for them. Born August 23rd. Currently 19 in the AU.

Appearance:

5ft7, Kody's nose, Eden's bone structure and eyes. Eden's colouring, too. You know how Axel is mad he has no body hair? Bella is self conscious because she has more than other girls (or rather, the ones she saw at the pub last time she went to visit the twins). Also has the classical stocky build. She is proud that she is so strong. Dresses basically exactly the same as Axel, but has a few dresses that she wears on occasion to feel pretty.

And how are Eden and Kody doing? Grand! Eden is in his 60s now, but still as active as ever (shut up about his back, it doesn't hurt). Hair has gone white. Kody is in her 40s. They're still extremely intimate with one another - hence why the kids decided to move several clearings over/into town. Just gross to see your parents all over each other all of the time. Eden's mellowed out a lot, but still has his old habits. Still tries to scare-monger about town (not that the twins listened to him like ever). They still fall into classical roles about the cabin. It might not work for everyone, but it works for them. Kody isn't as submissive as she used to be and scolds Eden a lot when he slips back into old behaviours. But at the end of the day, they do what they've always done. Sit in front of the fire and read their favourite books to one another while looking at each other in complete adoration.

[gemwing1988]

The Cuphead Show: Dreamstones Edition Sneak Preview 3

“That is… AMAZING!” The Devil exclaimed, happily spreading his arms wide. “I’m impressed by how fantastically I’m running this whole operation. In fact, I think I deserve… A CELEBRATION!

He takes out his pitchfork and twirls it before tapping it to the ground.

With a poof, the entire operating room changes into a massive partying area. There were streamers and balloons all over the place, tables with verities of delicious food, cakes and drinks and a large banner that reads, “CONGRATS DEVIL!”.

Lastly, the Devil, Henchman and all of the imps were now wearing colourful party hats. One confused imp nearby the Devil was holding a tray carrying wine glasses filled with wine.

The Devil reaches down and takes a glass from the tray before he taps his pitchfork to get everyone’s attention even though they already gave it to him.

“Attention, everyone!” The Devil announced. “We having our most productive year in a millennia. Thanks to my hard work and dedication…”

As the Devil prattled on with his speech, the imps, having absolutely no idea what he was talking about, simply stared blankly at him in confusion.

“What’s he talking about?” One imp asked.

“I don’t know, but we didn’t had a break in 3,000 years, so just go with it.” A second imp replied.

“So, let’s all raise a glass… to ME!” The Devil cheered, raising his glass.

All of the imps all looked at one another in confusion before they decided to play along and clapped in applause.

But not everyone was celebrating or applauding when a scrawny green arm pokes out from the crowd of imps, a bony index finger pointed upwards as an obnoxiously nasally voice piped up:

“Erm, excuse me?”

The surprised and confused imps stopped applauding and parted to allow the individual through as a short green skinned demon shuffled forward with a stoic yet dull frown on his face.

The demon has a large, round head, small yellow horns, the traditional Devil’s tail, a small pointy nose and large two-toed feet that appeared to look more like cloven hooves. He also has pointed ears, a single sharp tooth poking out from his mouth and beady brownish-red eyes.

His only article of clothing were white dress cuffs on his wrists, white spats on his hoof-like feet, a blue bow tie with light blue polka dots, a large pair of glasses and a pencil on his left ear. He was also carrying a large book in his left arm.

This was Stickler, the Devil’s auditor… and the most annoying and most insufferably boring demon to ever disgrace the Underworld. He’s often known to be practically the bane to the Devil’s existence, constantly reminding him about his duties, such as collecting the number of souls and other devilish business.

Also, Stickler, is known to be the local killjoy, always shuffling in to spoil the Devil’s fun such as the very party he’s throwing right now.

The fact is, neither the Devil nor the rest of his minions in the Underworld likes him. Not even Henchman, of all people.

“Oh, not this guy…” Henchman groaned with an annoyed frown on his face.

Stickler approached the Devil and Henchman as he stated, “According to the ledger, there are two outstanding souls in need of collecting.”

Henchman’s eyes widened in surprise and dismay as he realized who Stickler was referring to. Henchman frantically waved his hand across his neck to motion Stickler to keep quiet. However, Stickler didn’t seem to heed any notice as he opened the book and held it up to the Devil.

“It is a cup and a blonde female human from another world with the ability to transform into an angelic fairy of a sort.” Stickler explained dully. “They both played Soul Ball. They were on ‘Roll the Dice’. As of today’s date, both their souls remain uncollected.”

The Devil frowns before he smiles a bit while lowering the book down with his fingers, trying to keep calm as possible.

“Thank you, Stickler, our ever diligent auditor.” The Devil said while lightly patting Stickler on the head before pushing him away with a finger while making a strained smile. “But I’m sure it’s just a clerical error, everyone. Ahahaha!”

Suddenly, Stickler slides back in, correcting “ Doubtful. As you…”

“Hey! Let’s get that music going!” The Devil interrupted as he snapped his fingers.

Upbeat party music begins to play as the Devil grabs the mildly surprised Stickler and turns him around, forcing him to take the lead in a conga line with Henchman happily getting behind the Devil while the imps followed suite.

“Ahem! Excuse me!” Stickler protested as the Devil ignored him and continued to push him away. “Excuse me!

[cakegatedisaster]

Where are they all from? Assume I know NOTHING about them

OKAY OKAY OKAY

SO I am not telling you shit about Jason or Percy, we're both already experts, BUT FOR THE REST:

Laurent de Vere is from Captive Prince, a dark fantasy novel set in medieval times with two warring kingdoms that mirror the medieval nations of France and Greece, and feature a whole cast of lovingly wicked characters, including Laurent who is actually the love interest of the main character, Damen. It's a fantastic enemies to lovers plot, with soooo much political scrambling and a wonderful narrative about redemption and endurance. SOOO completely recommend it.

Lestat de Lioncourt is from Interview With The Vampire, a book series originally published by Anne Rice that spans 12 books. Lestat is introduced in the first one as a vicious, beautiful, horrible vampire mentor/love interest to the first books protagonist, Louis. I haven't actually read the books, but I HAVE watched the AMC TV show of the same title and fallen in love with Sam Reid's portrayal of this incessantly complicated complex individual. Amazing TV show, go watch it.

Draco Malfoy is another one that doesn't need much of an introduction. However, I find myself wanting to justify my love of him by presenting not canon material Draco, but rather the much changed, much beloved fanon Draco, portrayed as such in the literal hundreds of drarry fanfic I've read over the years. Come ask me for recommendations, and be fed.

(humiliatingly, these last three have been blond and French to some degree. It appears I have a type.)

Now Magnus Bane might be a little less known, but he is the fanciful warlock from the Shadowhunter Chronicles, a books series that now spans over 20 books and six different series, plus a movie and a three season TV show. Set in a world where angels and demons are constantly at war, the angels tasked a specific group of people to lead the charge against the demons on earth and protect the innocent, unknowing people of earth. These are called Shadowhunters, or Nephilim. Now, there is so much lore and backstory to get into for this series that it is actually insane, especially considering I've read every book and watched the show at least 4 times. I would highly recommend the show, it gives early 2010's cheesy monster movie for the first season but gets a lot darker as it goes on, AND it has the world's best portrayal of his majesty Magnus Bane, played by the lovely Harry Shum jr. (He's also in a committed queer relationship which is universally agreed to be the best thing in the entire series)

DAEMON TARGARYAN. What a man. He's unhinged, he's insane, he's in love with his niece, he sired three children with her, he almost choked her out, and he's currently being haunted by a really old castle and a freaky witch. What a guy, I love him.

Andrew Minyard is such a guy. He's so unbelievably traumatized that he flips between manic as hell and apathetic. He's from All For the Game, so I can't say too much else about him or I might spoil you 😅 but you'll see.

And finally, Hannibal Lecter. Played by the extraordinary Mads Michelson, Hannibal in the TV show is HONESTLY the best performance I've ever seen in my life. He is so pretentious and gentle and vicious, he eats people but he does it in ways that make you want to eat what he's eating, just all around an extraordinary character, go watch Hannibal, it will be so so worth it.

[carelessflower]

They have been dating for a month. Just a month and there has been rumours spreading through campus, that Magnus was seeing someone else, someone much older. But no one has spoken to Magnus to deny or confirm these rumours, and Alec feels like an idiot, because they arent official, but they been on one date.

Alec walked through the hallway, eyes straight as he made his way to class, he ignored the whispers and pitty stares.

Room 301.

Opening the door, and walking in, he looked around to see Magnus who was scribbling in his notebook.

Alec stood there uncomfortably, as he looked around and went to the back, far away from him. Isabelle has already shown him pictures, of Magnus and an older dark male with sandy blonde hair, they were in a cafe. It didnt show much, and he went to Magnus's father, but didnt actaully tell him as he felt like an idiot.

" hey Alec didnt see you there?" Sebastian sat next to him.

"Hi." Alec responded, his eyes fixed on the back of Magnus's skull.

"I heard Magnus was seeing someone?" Sebastian edged closer, Alec shrugged his shoulders.

"Well we only went on one data so..." Alec got out his laptop, as he saw the teacher walk in.

Sebastian tried to ask him some more questions, but Alec ignored them.

The teacher dismissed the class, Alec quickly packed and left, rushing out of the building, and walking home.

He crossed the road, and cut through the park, he passed the man, that his sister show him, the man walked past. Alec could agree that the man was attractive, but that is beside's the point. It was here or nothing.

"Excuse me?" Alec called out to the man, a few people turned.

"I meant you." He pointed at the male, who walked up to him. He was the same height and build him.

"Yes?" The man responded.

"Um..Do you know Magnus Bane?"

The man looked at him, he looked him up and down.

"Why?"

"He is a friend, I was wondering do you know him?"

"I do."

"Oh okay. A friend of mine saw him and you at a cafe, and was wondering if you two were you know - ?" He didnt want to say dating, he was flustered.

"Im his uncle, If you spoke to Magnus he would have told you."

Now he felt like an idiot.

"Oh im sorry sir." Alec turned on his heel and fled. He got out his phone and pressed on Magnus's name.

Alec: Can I talk to you?

Magnus: im at home, where do you want to meet up?

Alec: i can go to your house, is your dad there?

Magnus: nope

Alec: ill meet you then.

glad there isnt more drama i dont think i can stand it aldskfjdlgkjdlkfgj

[hellsblood]

FULL NAME: JESSALYN D'AUBIGNE (ANGELIC NAME IS LUDIVINE)

NICKNAMES:  JEZ, MON ANGE, PETITE FLAMME, PRINCESS, QUEEN, BANE OF HEAVEN, THE HEAVENLY FIRE, BLOOD OF THE MORNING STAR

PRONOUNS: SHE/HER

SEXUALITY: DEMISEXUAL, SAPPHIC, POLYAMOROUS

AGE: 23 (SOUL IS 414 YO)

EYE COLOR: HAZEL WITH FLECKS OF EMERALD but they turn to gold when she uses her angelic powers and burning red when anger takes over

HAIR COLOR: EITHER RED OR STRAWBERRY BLONDE

SPECIES: NEPHILIM, HELLION (a.k.a. infernal vampire) READ LORE HERE

PLACE OF RESIDENCE: HELL OR DARK DIMENSION (FORMERLY EARTH)

OCCUPATION: PRINCE OF HELL, KING OF THE DARK DIMENSION 

SIRE: SAGE

LANGUAGES:  ENGLISH & FRENCH. CELESTIAL, DEMONIC

tw:  story contains topics such as abuse, religious trauma, illness, murder and loss

Growing up, Jessalyn never really felt like she belonged. As a baby, she was found in a basket on the steps of a church, with a note signed with a G that said the child has no father. She’s adopted by a very catholic family who affectionately called her their miracle. At the age of 5, she manifested a magic affinity for fire, which scared the hell out of her very religious adoptive parents. Somehow, she ended up being raised by witches who’d heard of the couple planning to exorcise their child. Most witches said she sucked at being a witch. She’d internalized her previous adoptive parents' fear of magic and instead of helping her overcome her traumatic past, they simply decided she was broken and basically made a Cinderella out of her.  Over time, her internalized phobia of magic ate away at her immune system. She was gonna die young (17) but a miracle happened in the form of a redhead man with golden eyes  who fed her his blood. She asked him who he was and he said I guess I'm a guardian angel. She told her witch family about it. They immediately thought a vampire had corrupted her soul but Jessalyn was adamant it wasn’t the case. She’d felt the man meant no harm. They didn’t believe her. And she never saw that man again.

*

She’s 21 and graduating from college in a whole other country than the one she grew up in when her life is turned upside down. She quickly finds herself princess of a realm of shadows she’s barely allowed to leave and now has to drink blood to survive. Her first kill (her first love) haunts her and she relies on her sire Sage (whom she later finds out is her father) for guidance and comfort (platonic comfort, no incest!!). Three months later, Sage vanishes, leaving her to tend to his kingdom as Queen Regent. Sage’s disappearance, as well as the manifestation of the first signs of The Apocalypse, plunges the DARK DIMENSION into chaos. To her own people, Jessalyn is no Queen. They see her as a parvenu,  a surface girl who doesn’t deserve to sit on the throne. They have no idea that the true blood running into her veins belongs actually to their king.

The fragile Armistice between Hell and the Dark Dimension used to rely solely on the latter’s promise to remain neutral in the everlasting conflict between angels and demons. Although, with Sage’s sudden disappearance, HELL worries he might be collaborating with the Host of HEAVEN and thus violating the terms of the original treaty that was signed nearly a decade ago.

The young kingdom quickly finds itself under the occupation of the Infernal Court and Jessalyn finds herself bound to the underworld and unable to leave these grounds to venture to Earth until… she finds a loophole (she carries a vial of soil from her kingdom on her at all time).

This time, Hell demands the Dark Dimension’s allyship in the upcoming Armageddon. Jessalyn has two options: 1) join Hell’s forces willingly or 2) refuse and watch her kingdom be devoured by hellfire. But Jessalyn knows what awaits her people in the infernal realm and she refuses to let Sage’s dream be reduced to ashes.

THE DARK DIMENSION FINALLY JOINED THE APOCALYPSE CHAT!

If Heaven wins this war, there’s no guarantee of what will happen to all supernatural beings who aren’t considered holy creatures of the Lord. But if Hell triumphs… What is gonna happen to all the people who turned their backs on Lucifer/Satan to live a life of freedom under Sage’s protection? And what about the Earth people? Can the Dark Dimension really side with earthlings to save the world that persecutes them?

MORE ABOUT HER

D’Aubigne is the surname of the witch clan that raised her. The surname of the family that adopted her first was Angelet.

Even though Jessalyn doesn’t think of herself as a queen, she remains loyal to Sage and cares about the fate of her people. She will do everything in her power to ensure the safety of her people and make sure Sage’s dream lives on.

She’s very much aware of Sage being her true father and him being Lucifer/Satan’s son, which makes her Lucifer’s granddaughter. She struggles seeing herself as a good person because of her legacy.

Despite being a second generation nephilim, she is as powerful as a first generation nephilim. Sage originally believed her to be the descendant of the biological child he had 414 years ago but she turns out to possess, by some miracle, the exact same soul as the very child he didn’t get to raise.

She’s fighting the idea that evil is born, which is hard to do when people believe you’re a weapon in a war against Heaven.

She’s an advocate for free will and believes one has the power to forge their own destiny.

She doesn’t know about the prophecy about her yet or that she’d be wanted by Heaven and Hell if they knew who she was.

Favorite flower is the dandelion. Because dandelions are free, wild and you can’t buy them. 

She turned out to be one of the best fencers of her team in high school, even though she claims she isn’t much of a fighter. She quickly picked up on it (some ancient angelic fighting reflexes actually kicked in)

She hates fighting and the idea of ever harming someone (again). 

She can’t get drunk, at least not with alcohol from the earth plane. 

Her blood can heal all creatures, including angels and demons, only when given freely. Otherwise it is like poison to both angels and demons that come in contact with it. It is the HEAVENLY FLAME’s own protection system against those who wish to take that power for themselves. 

[leewriting]

Carpool

You didn’t want to hate him , you didn’t want to have a weekly fight either. But when you’re in university and there is only one parking spot at your apartment building, it’s each person for themselves. Unfortunately this can’t last forever and every feud has an expiry, yours might just come from forced ride sharing.

A twist on there’s only one bed.

Yoongi x reader college au, enemies to lovers.

Buckle up.

Warnings: Injuries, mentions of non-consensual elements, language

A/N: My birthday gift to all of you on my birthday, ironic I know. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Word count: 17k

You’re going to kill him. Jail will be worth it, you know it will. You bang on the door again. Your fist leaving a wet mark behind on the cheap wood. You’re freezing and dripping a puddle in the hallway. It’s pouring rain outside and after a very long day of disappointment all you want to do is curl up into a ball on the couch and watch Legally blonde. At least she has her life together unlike you, who nearly failed a test you studied so hard for. Not to mention that you almost missed a stupid assignment deadline. Ending up with you in the library for hours scrambling to finish and submit it on time. Thus, you can’t just curl up on your couch for two very distinct reasons. One being that it is much later than you wanted to come home, so you have to do responsible things like clean up the mess that is your apartment. And two is the reason why you’re soaking wet and banging on an apartment door that is not yours. You had to park two blocks away and walk all the way in the pouring rain. Your parking spot was once again taken by the stupid, bone headed, selfish, man currently sitting on his couch, waiting for just the right amount of time to pass to really piss you off. “Yoongi I swear to god if you do not open this door I will break it down.” You stomp your foot. You sound hysterical even to your own ears but right now you couldn’t care less. The neighbours don’t even bother to look out into the hallway anymore, too used to the fighting between you two. Finally, the door swings open to reveal the bane of your existence standing cockily in the doorway. His black fringe is hanging into his eyes, and he smugly push it away as he takes in your drenched form. “Princess, I see you’re quiet wet.” He smirks at you, folding his arms across his chest and leaning on the doorway. He’s dressed in all black sweats and honestly he looks very comfortable, in direct contrast to you, and as if on cue a freezing cold droplet runs down your back. You ignore the stupid innuendo and wipe the smug look off his face, not how you would like to by punching it off, but by pushing past him into his apartment. You refuse to have this fight in the hallway, again.

“O, please do come in.” He sarcastically replies. Your blood is boiling, and you barely hear the door close before you’re spinning around to face him.

His apartment looks the same as always, perfectly decorated, and clean. It makes you hate him even more.

You’ve known him for a while, and you wish you could say it’s been a pleasant experience but instead the way you became acquainted with the music major was anything but ideal.

Your stupid university decided that your apartment block’s parking was so conveniently close to the sport fields that the first team football players might as well just park there, while they build new parking for them. So subsequently a shortage of parking for the people actually living in the building arose.

You and Yoongi both moved in this year so unfortunately neither of you really knows who the one remaining parking spot belongs to. You like to believe that it has to be your apartment’s seeing as it is right outside your window. Yoongi however does not share the sentiment.

“So, what will it be this time? A cappuccino or a Latte?” Yoongi asks, his voice coming from the kitchen space, where he is currently standing with two cups in hand, eyebrow lifted.

“Hot chocolate please.” You snap back, as you cross your arms and impatiently tap your foot.

The drinks thing is a tradition that formed a while ago, after you both realised that the parking spot argument happened at least twice a week. You’ve tried going to the university board but unfortunately they didn’t really seem to care all that much as neither of you are part of any winning sports team. 

In the beginning you tried to be civil and set up a roster, but you quickly realised that neither of your schedules were very compatible with that. Both of you being night owls didn’t help the situation, so you started going for alternative tactics or as your friends call it, sabotage.

 It evolved from relatively harmless pranks like shaving cream on his windshield, and him throwing glitter in your exhaust pipe to more extreme things.

He parked you in right before a test and you out of spite didn’t move your car from the spot for weeks. It wasn’t until he had your car towed that you called a truce on the pranks and just decided that the weekly fights will have to be endured. Him being an absolute caffeine addict, and to your great displeasure being able to make great coffee, decided that if you are going to fight all the time he at least needs a drink to stay sane.

“I’m sorry I took the parking spot, I thought you had already left.” Yoongi sighs out, his hand holding an amazing cup of hot chocolate out to you, which you take with a roll of your eyes.

 “Left to where? It’s pouring!” You state, irritation seeping into your bones along with the warmth of the drink. Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. 

“I don’t know maybe to one of the hundred parties you’re always going to, and then I park all the way at the other space, only for you to come Ubering in at three in the morning.” His voice isn’t raised with the accusation, he never raises his voice which only irks you more.

“O I’m sorry and all the times I’ve had to park two blocks away because you’ll be coming home late from the studio. Only to find out the next fucking morning you never did come home?” You throw back at him, trying to keep your voice as calm as his but not succeeding at all. You are so irritated, and your wet clothes and hair is starting to give you a headache.

Yoongi is ready to retort with probably another snappy comment when a ghostly groan cuts in, making you start and spill hot chocolate all over your hand. Great as if you need another bad thing today.

“Are you guys fighting again?” Namjoon asks, his head peaking over the back of the couch where he was probably taking a nap judging by his ruffled hair and red eyes. You in your rage completely overlooked the fact that Yoongi’s roommate might be here.

Namjoon is a year above Yoongi, and instead of music, his major is more botanically inclined. He spends most of his time in his greenhouse, doing god knows what. There are rumours however that he cooks up more than just petunias in there, and his calm and relaxed demeanour makes it all more believable. Nevertheless, whatever he is doing is working because he is one of the top students. Mix that with extra modules like math and physics he’s just very strange all around, except for his face, which is not strange but rather knee shakingly beautiful.

Namjoon surveys you and Yoongi. “Have you guys finally started dating?” He lifts his eyebrow at you both, who with the possibility of a groaning ghost, had jumped into each other’s arms, and in shock are still standing in the same position. He looks between you two and you follow Namjoon’s eyes from your face to Yoongi’s.

Upon realising how close you’re standing you push him away, with a little cough. His coffee comes sloshing out of his cup with the backwards movement. You have no idea how he managed to not spill it when he had jumped into the air.

“No, Joon we definitely did not start dating.” Yoongi groans, wiping the coffee from his shirt. “Like I would ever date her.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

 “Yeah, believe me, that will never happen.” You can’t believe people keep suggesting that you and Yoongi should be together. His friends keep teasing him about it every time you come up in conversation, and yours are not much better on the subject either. 

Unfortunately, the nature of your fights does nothing to deter them, as calling each other in rage and storming into each other’s apartment, is apparently the new way to hit on someone. To you, their conviction that Yoongi and you are secretly in love with each other seems more like a mom telling her preschool daughter that the boy who threw her with a rock likes her.  

“O, well in that case Jungkook owes me money” Namjoon states casually not even trying to explain. You roll your eyes at him as he walks past you to the kitchen, but he doesn’t seem to see your face.  

“Sorry for waking you Joon, you know how she is.” Yoongi says, quirking his head to you, looking at Namjoon who is now pouring cereal into a bowl. It takes a moment for your brain to register what the asshole next to you just said.

“How I am? Excuse me, as if you haven’t been fighting with me at all.” You huff, glaring daggers at the cocky bastard, “No? I guess you calling me in the middle of class just to shout at me is fine, is it?” It would be so easy to just slap him, you can’t help but feel an itch to do so. 

“Please it wasn’t that bad.” He scoffs blowing the hair of his fringe from his face.

 “Wasn’t that bad…” you stammer in disbelief. “You idiot I got kicked out, while we were doing test prep, I nearly failed.”  You glare at him you don’t think you’ve ever really shown him any other facial expression.

“I called you to ask you why you weren’t fucking home when your car was in the spot.” He defends himself while throwing his hands up in the air. 

He stares at you waiting for an answer. You reel to find a good one, so you don’t have to tell him you went straight to class from some guy’s house. So instead, you do the sensible thing, you lie.

“Well maybe if you had told me you were going to need it I wouldn’t have accepted the ride from my friend.” You retort, trying not to waver from his eye contact, knowing it will be suspicious, but clearly, it doesn’t work. 

He scoffs “Your friend right, maybe you should carpool all the time with whoever you’re sleeping with and give me the parking spot.” He says, his eyes are narrowed at you, clearly irritated. You already have the reply on your tongue, the blush on your face rising with your anger.

“Wait.” Namjoon jumps in. He has been quietly watching you guys from behind the counter. Eating his cereal and following your argument with his eyes the way one would follow a tennis match. 

“I have the best idea.” He states with a grin on his face. Both of your heads turn to Namjoon to hear this magical idea.

 “Yoongi you’re completely correct,” he says as if you know what he’s talking about.

“I usually am, but about what this time?” Yoongi asks cockily and you have to resist the urge to gag. Namjoon just rolls his eyes, as if Yoongi is being incredibly stupid. 

“You just said it.” You and Yoongi share a confused glance. Namjoon finally realising that you’re clearly idiots, explain his idea the way you would to a two-year-old, word for word and slowly.

“You two should carpool together.”

“Joon what the fuck are you talking about.” Yoongi exclaims and for once you actually agree with him.

 “How can we carpool when our schedules don’t overlap at all?’ You ask irritated. You’re getting pretty tired of being in wet clothes, the urge to fight is gone and no matter how much you like Namjoon you honestly do not want to listen to stupid ideas right now.

“Listen I know it sounds weird but just hear me out okay?” He asks walking to stand in front of the couch and motioning impatiently for you both to sit down. After exchanging a look with Yoongi, you both follow his instructions.

Already expecting a fit from Yoongi for sitting on his too perfect couch with your wet clothes, you opt to sit on the armrest. You not so patiently wait for Namjoon, who is looking more and more like an evil genius ready to monologue his plan.

“Okay, so I know the roster didn’t work out, but what if you guys each get a week to park in the spot downstairs and then you switch.” His hands are flying around as he explains, gesturing with them, but you already see a flaw. 

“Okay, but what if I need to go somewhere? Walking all the way to my car at night isn’t exactly safe.” You comment, but at your question, Namjoon’s smile only grows, he has to be crazy to think this stupid plan would actually work. 

“Then the person whose car is in the parking spot has to drive you.” He states casually as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wait what!” You and Yoongi both exclaim at the same time. You have to drive each other around now? No way that’s happening. You look to Yoongi to see him in thought, he glances out of the corner of his eye at you and after a moment he nods. “Okay.” He states calmly, way too calmly for your liking.

“I’m sorry what? You can’t be serious.” You can’t believe he is agreeing, “We couldn’t even keep to a stupid roster, if you really think this will work then clearly you’ve been spending time in Namjoon’s greenhouse.” You look to the subject of your accusation who is only calmly watching you two from a chair he fell into, “No offence” you say to him, but he merely shrugs, a smile on his face, denying nothing.

Yoongi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly just as tired of you, as you are of him. “Look the year is almost over and next year the parking at the sports field will be done being built.”

 He has a point but driving each other around still feels like a bad idea, but maybe, just maybe it can work out. 

You internally laugh at yourself. “Okay fine,” You give in to Namjoon’s delight, “but under two conditions.” You smile evilly at Yoongi holding up two fingers. You’ll make sure, that if this is going to happen, it will work out in your favour.

“The person to call it off has to park in the far-away parking spot for the rest of the year and,” You pause putting one finger down and wait for him to cautiously nod, “You have to start.” You smile, and after a moment he smirks at you. That stupid smirk that you want to wipe off his face. 

“Fine princess, you’re on.” He holds out his hand to you, to shake and make it official but you ignore it, jumping off of the couch and flipping your wet hair, splashing him with cold water droplets instead. 

“Okay, then I’ll see you tomorrow morning at seven for my first class.” You give Namjoon a wave who returns it and quickly make your way out of the apartment not listening to Yoongi shouting after you as you close his front door in his face.

 You suddenly feel much better. Your plan forms in your mind as you evil laugh once safe in your own apartment, the warm water of the shower washing away the cold. That parking spot will be yours. .

.

. “Morning sunshine” you sing-song, trying to pull the covers off of the grumpy man in the bed. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?” His morning voice is raspy, and he groans as he  desperately holds onto the covers. “Namjoon let me in.” You state simply, shrugging and letting go of the covers, You instead move to the window, blackout curtains hanging in front of it. “I didn’t ask how you got into my room,” he spits out trying to untangle himself from the covers that sprang back over him. “I asked what you are doing here”. He demands finally sitting up, looking at you as if you just insulted his whole family. His hair is messy and face is a bit swollen from sleep. Overall, he looks entirely too much like a cat that was waken up from a nap.

You shake your head and instead of giving him an answer you pull open the curtains, letting the early morning light stream into the room.

Yoongi screeches shoving his face into the pillow to protect his eyes from the sun. You roll yours at his dramatics, you’d think he was about to die from the way he was moaning.

“Come on you have to take me to class,” you pull the covers off him, this time he doesn’t fight it. Groaning he peeks at you from where he is still face-planted into a pillow.

 “You can miss one class.” He states turning his head away from you and the window.

 “I cannot miss this class dipshit,” you cross your arms and tap your foot getting impatient. “Unlike you, I have grades to keep up.” You smirk at him, “unless you want to call the deal off?”

Yoongi groans again and finally sits up. “I hate you, you know that right?” He glares at you, before blinking in the bright sunlight staring at the window personally offended by its existence and yours.

Now that he’s sitting up and rubbing his hand over his face and through his hair you’re quite sure he won’t go back to sleep. So, turning on your heels you walk out the door, throwing a sentence over your shoulder at him. 

“Get dressed or I’m going to be late.”

He throws quite a few curses after you, and you’re sure a few hand gestures to your back. You however just close the door, not giving in to your instinct to argue with him. You’re leaning on the door and looking at Namjoon who is laying on the couch, eating what looks like a brownie, and smirking at you.

 “What Namjoon?”

“Nothing.” He keeps smiling though. Stuffing the rest of the brownie in his mouth, he stands up from the couch. Your eyes follow him as he walks to the kitchen counter, where three potted plants are standing. They seem to be some kinds of flowers, you’re not completely sure what they’re called though.

 You’re just thinking to ask Namjoon when the door behind you swings open. You’re support gone you fall backwards. You’re about to fall into Yoongi’s chest where he is standing in the doorway.

You look at him in betrayal as he turns his body out of your way and a moment later you feel the hard unwelcoming wooden floor underneath you.

“Ouch.” You groan out, curling onto your side to get the pressure off the sore part of your back.

“Wow, princess you’re really falling for me hey?” he laughs as he merely steps over your body. You grumble after him. How dare he step out of the way? It would have been so easy just to catch you or even to just help you up off his bedroom floor.

“I hate you.” You grumble at him, as you try to stand up. “And stop calling me that!” You shout at him, clutching onto your head, you hit it harder than you thought. There is definitely a whole day headache waiting on you.

“I know” he smirks at you answering your first question, “and come on princess you’re going to be late, remember?” He opens the front door, giving you one last look before strolling out, his car keys spinning on his finger.

You huff again but walk to the door anyway, because he is right, you are going to be late, and you’re not going to back out of this class now.

Namjoon gives you a worried look as he gives you the bag you had thrown down when you came in.

 “You okay?” his voice is genuinely concerned, and you give him a smile.

 “I’m fine Joon, thank you.” He gives you one last smile before closing the door behind you.  

Yoongi is already sitting in his car, waiting for you.

The rain from last night has left the ground filled with puddles and the air is chilly from the still looming heavy clouds hanging from the sky. You’re glad you decided to opt for comfort over cute today because the outfit you had planned would have left you with even more bruises than you already have. 

You dodge the puddles, hoping over the last one almost falling on his stupid car, before finally yanking the door open and getting into the already heated up car. You’ve barely closed the door before he drives off.

“Where is your class?” he asks stopping at a red light. He hasn’t looked at you and this is the first time he’s spoken since you got in the car. You appreciate that, him not talking is about a thousand times better than when he speaks.

You sigh. “Just drop me off at the main gate.” 

He scoffs. “Are you sure you don’t want a personal escort to your class, princess?” You roll your eyes at the way he sneers the last word. He’s being more grumpy than usual and you’re getting tired of it.

 “Do you always attend your morning classes?” His voice is irritated. You look at him, glaring.

“Yes” Lies, you almost never attend them, but to get that parking spot you knew you had to hit Yoongi where it hurts, interrupting his sleep. So, to deter him from asking you any more questions, you turn your attention away from him, opting to look around.

You’ve never actually been in his car before, and you’re sorry to see it is just like his apartment, clean, perfectly organised, and even smells nice.

You look out of the window, before you get irritated again, sitting with your legs turned as far away from him as possible. The rain has started up again, a soft mist falling onto the university town.

You’ve been looking forward to university since high school, getting away from your stupid town and being able to start over has been an amazing experience and mostly you get along with everyone. Everyone but the man driving a bit too fast on the wet road for your liking.

You and Yoongi met at the beginning of the academic year. It was moving-in day and being able to move out of the university provided dorms and into the apartment building was an exciting and much-anticipated event. The building was still technically university-owned but now you could live alone and get away from the stupid rules of the dorms. 

The way you had met Yoongi was straight out of a rom-com as your friends like to describe it. Maybe if a romcom ended with them hating each other. You also know now that everything that happened was probably just a way to get into your pants. Because, unlike you trying to keep your escapades discrete, the string of people always leaving his apartment at ungodly hours confirm the many rumours of his playboy habits.

You had been carrying boxes up to your room when the carpet tripped you, causing you to tumble down. You were caught however by an, what you then thought, unbelievably handsome man. His eyes had been kind as he righted you again, bending down to pick up the boxes that had flown from your hands.

You remember how you had squealed and giggled with your friends about how sweet he was to carry the boxes for you all the way to your apartment. About how he had introduced himself and put his number in your phone just in case you ever needed anything. It was about a week after that, that you had your first fight in the hallway.

The car comes to a halt outside the main gate, and you open the door to get out immediately. You want to thank him but when the car door swings closed he drives off. You glare at his car for a good few seconds before remembering how far the class actually is, and how little time you have to get there. Pulling the hood of your hoody up to defend yourself from the misty droplets, you quickly walk to the class.

.

.

.

Your phone is ringing, cutting through the quiet bedroom, and waking you with a groan. You roll over, your hair all over your face, and you try to push it away to be able to see the name that is flashing on the screen. Once your tired eyes finally make out the letters on the screen you groan again. You debate just letting it ring, but you’re pretty sure he would hold it against you, so you slide the green circle to the side and press the phone to your ear.

“Yes, what is it Yoongi?” Your voice is raspy as you whisper and it’s quite clear that you were sleeping. You push the hair out of your face fully now as if it will help you be more awake.

 “I want you to come and get me.” He just states it, no asking or anything and it irks you. 

“Yoongi I dropped you off and you said you’re going to be there the whole night.” You raise your voice just a bit not wanting to wake up the guy sleeping next to you. He throws his arm over you and sleeps on, oblivious to the conversation taking place.

 “I know I said that but I want coffee, and the place I go to doesn’t deliver.” You roll your eyes and sigh, removing the guy’s arm from your waist you silently get up out of bed, the phone pressed between your shoulder and your chin. 

“Yoongi I was kind of in the middle of something.” You cast a glance at the shirtless man while you try to find your clothes. 

“I don’t care, come and get me unless you want to back out?” He clearly knows what he’s doing, and you are not going to give in that easily. 

“Fine, I’m coming.” You whisper yell and hang up, pressing the red button with unnecessary force.

You clench your jaw and run your hand through your hair in frustration. You breathe in and out, suppressing all the murderous thoughts in your brain, and instead focus on finding your pants. You jiggle into them and with shoes in hand you walk to the front door. 

It’s unlocked, you always tell them to keep the front door unlocked. You claim it’s because of claustrophobia but really you just want a way out if anything goes wrong. He didn’t wake up at all with your walking around, so you decide you’ll text him in the morning, or well later today seeing as it’s 2 am. 

You reach your car in record time and you’re pulling away before you can second guess if the parking spot is really worth all this.

It became your week yesterday, and he has been on your case ever since. You thought you were bad, but he’s already driving you out of bed on the first day.

 To be fair you were trying to be bad. You had him drop you off and pick you up for classes, you’ve never attended all your morning classes before, parties and even a chocolate run at midnight. He complained and glared, but he still bore it which you now see was probably because he was planning how he will torture you this week.

You bite your cuticle as you drive, your headlights illuminating the road and falling onto the reason for you being here, and missing morning after pancakes. 

Yoongi pulls open the door and gets in before you’ve barely even stopped. 

“The café is called Spring day.” No greeting, no nothing, just simply ordering you around. As if to make it any worse, the café he just ordered you to, is right down the block.

 “You could have walked.” You are irritated and you know he is delighted to see you getting worked up. 

“I wasn’t in the mood for walking.” He is looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry to drag you away from your plans.” He might be apologising but there is not an ounce of sincerity in his voice. In fact, he is being sarcastic, and it makes your jaw tick in frustration. 

“You sound very sorry.” You snap at him, turning to him, ready to literally kick him out of your car. He however is smirking. 

“Your shirt is on backwards.” Your eyes go wide, and you can’t help but blush as he raises an eyebrow at you. You hold his eye contact refusing to look away, he breaks it first, looking to the road in front and then back at you. 

“Are you going to drive?” You sigh and turn, putting your hands on the steering wheel. 

Like you said it’s only about a minute’s drive to Spring day café, so neither of you really has a chance to say anything more before the car is parked in front of the lit shop’s window. You didn’t even know it was open this late.

The sign on the door says otherwise, but Yoongi just waltzes in. You follow him cautiously, only to liven up when you see the familiar faces turn to you. 

“Y/n what are you doing here?” Jimin is sitting on the coffee bar drinking something that doesn’t really look like coffee. He bounces off to come greet you, throwing an arm over your shoulder. You just smile at him.

 “Yoongi wanted midnight coffee apparently.” You glare at the pale man now helping himself to the coffee makers, not caring about Jin, the owner, sitting at the counter. 

Taehyung is sitting at a table with his feet on top of it, his chair rocking back in froth as he balances on it. 

“Yoongi give the poor girl a break, clearly she was busy.” His eyes run over your shirt and you groan. 

You forgot about that. You pout at Taehyung, sticking your arms back in the sleeves and turning the stupid shirt around. 

“There, happy?” You cross your arms and Jimin laughs at you throwing his arm around your shoulder again. Taehyung gets up and joins him on your other side. 

“Don’t pout, we’re on your side remember?” He smiles at Yoongi who is glaring at you three over his cup of coffee. 

You met most of Yoongi’s friends through the occasions of storming into his apartment for fights. The first time they had stared at you open-mouthed, noodles halfway to their mouths. It took them about three seconds before they were introducing themselves, apparently already knowing who you were.

The only three you met by yourself are the two men who are now leading you to a barstool next to Jin and the youngest who isn’t here.

Jimin and Taehyung are in your English class. On the first day of class, they took it upon themselves to squish in next to you and talk the entire class. After that, they insisted on sitting next to you in every class. You couldn’t help but become friends with them. Their whispered comments turned from irritating to honestly very entertaining and funny. 

The first time you saw them in Yoongi’s apartment you made a big dramatic deal about them betraying you by being on Yoongi’s side of the parking spot war. They in turn made a big dramatic deal to show you they were on your side. They even helped you throw a bag of glitter on Yoongi’s car, but of course, he doesn’t know that. 

The youngest, Jungkook, you met one day when he was floating around campus completely confused and lost. You watched him walk around in circles for about ten minutes before you decided to take pity on him. 

Turns out he was looking for a class on the other side of campus, so you walked with him to make sure he doesn’t get lost again. On the way, you came across Namjoon who apparently knew Jungkook from when he tutored him. 

You left him in Namjoon’s care but afterwards when he was staring from the couch while you and Yoongi fought, and Namjoon ignoring it completely, he made a point to find you on campus, especially after he became friends with Jimin and Tae.

 Jungkook never took a side though and instead follows Namjoon’s lead in teasing you. He also happens to be one of the biggest supporters of the whole, “Yoongi and y/n are actually madly in love with each other,” thing.

“Where is Namjoon and Jungkook?” You ask, opting for sitting on the counter rather than the stool. 

“Namjoon is helping Jungkook study or something.” Hoseok is swirling around on his chair in circles, going faster and faster. Yoongi is next to him, watching him and finally reaching out a hand to stop his best friend from falling off of the spinning chair. 

“More like Namjoon is dragging Jungkook along in the library, poor kid.” Jin comments. He looks tired and you feel a bit guilty for keeping him here so late, but then you realise you aren’t doing anything. Technically it’s the other guys' fault. You all do laugh at him, knowing that he is most likely telling the truth. 

Jimin and Tae keep bothering you, telling you all about their week and everything they’ve been up to. Even some of the others join in however they all seem content to just listen to the two boys babble on. You are clutching your stomach sitting in Tae’s lap, where you fell into a few minutes ago, due to the aforementioned laughing when Yoongi,  eyes narrowed gets up from his chair. 

“Come on, I need to get back.” He looks at you. Waiting for you to spring into action but you just blink and stare at him. 

“No, you can walk.” You turn your head away. 

Everyone in the room is holding their breath already anticipating what is coming. Jungkook once told you that there is tension before you and Yoongi start fighting, almost like the air before a thunderstorm. 

“O, I can walk?” Yoongi’s voice is cocky, and you hate it. “Where was that attitude when I had to drive you one block to the store at one in the morning to get you chocolate?” 

You roll your eyes, getting up from Tae’s lap. He doesn’t even try to hold you back. “O because asking you to drive from the same fucking place is as inconvenient as calling me when you specifically said you’ll be here the entire night?” 

Yoongi scoffs. Walking closer to you until it would only take one step before you’re toe to toe. “The deal was that we drive each other around whenever the other needs to remember princess?” His voice is so condescending you can almost feel hatred radiating off from him. 

You won’t back down, not in front of everyone, and not to the bane of your existence. So, you take the step closer, you and Yoongi are chest to chest.  

“You agreed to this deal first, you being an asshole isn’t making anyone’s life easier.” You poke him in the chest, getting your point across. 

Yoongi looks at you, his eyebrow raised. “Let’s get one thing straight right now I’m not trying to make your life easier, I am trying to make my life easier, because I know you’ll give up, and then I won’t have to ever deal with you again.”

You’re eyes go wide for a moment, but his words don’t hurt, you don’t care. You’re trying to do the same thing. “Good, at least I know we feel the same. I won’t give up, but I will make your life a living hell, and when you give up, the real reward will be that I never have to see you again.”

You both stand there for another second, chest to chest, glaring at each other. 

“Drive me back.” Yoongi says it word for word, empathising each one, not breaking eye contact. 

“Get in the car.” You say in the same way, glaring at him, your faces are inches apart, and your eyes don’t move from each other, challenging one another. Hatred and dislike reflecting in each of them, the tension in the air that Jungkook talked about is growing, stifling you both until Jin finally clears his throat, and it disappears.

You blink and finally look away, turning to Taehyung and Jimin both staring at you, a smirkish look on both their faces. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” you turn to the other two men, “Thank you Jin, see you Hobi.��� You catch your car keys that Jimin threw, and storm to the door, yanking open your car door and already starting your car as soon as you close the door behind you. 

Yoongi gets in a few minutes later, and you drive off, faster than you usually would to get the cocky ass out of your sight as soon as possible. 

“Get out.” You sneer at him as soon as your car stops. He doesn’t protest, getting out and slamming your car door very hard. You flinch at the loud sound, rolling down your window, to yell at the retreating man’s back. 

“Don’t slam my doors asshole.” He doesn’t answer just throws his middle finger back at you. You roll your eyes, deciding it's not worth it, and you drive back home.

The convenience of parking right in front of the door is enough to lighten your mood tremendously, and once in your apartment you realise how icky you feel, so before falling into your bed, you take an extremely very hot shower. 

The shower doesn’t clear your head as much as it usually does. All you can keep thinking about is the idiotic man that you have to go pick up in a few hours. You used to think that maybe you could get along one day, maybe when you both have parking spots, but after what he said tonight clearly that won’t happen.

 The fights and arguments since the carpool deal started have been becoming more intense. It hasn’t been this bad since when the arguing started. You feel that you and Yoongi have fallen into a routine of fighting and now that you’re forced into close proximity it is intensifying the irritation and hatred that have evolved between you two. 

Your skin is still red when you get out of the shower. The cold air meets your body, cooling it down too fast for your liking. It is starting to get very cold and you’re sure the rain will turn into snow soon. 

You originally wanted to spend your day catching up on some work, maybe cleaning your apartment, but now you know you’re just going to spend the day catching up on sleep, before once again facing the most infuriating man you think ever existed. 

.

.

.

 The pounding on your door is synchronising nicely with the throbbing in your head.

“Y/n, open up.” The pounding continues on the door and in your head. “You were supposed to come fetch me hours ago.” Yoongi’s voice carries through the apartment, and you flinch at his words.

He’s right, you were supposed to go fetch him. Today is your last day as driver and you couldn’t be more than glad to have a break from Yoongi’s never-ending calls. When he said he’s going to make you give up he wasn’t joking, and you’ve been struggling to not do so. 

He has been calling you at all hours to drive him somewhere, and more than once he’s called you to go pick him up at someone else’s apartment. He comes strolling out, with lipstick marks all over his face and you have to try very hard to not gag at the sweet sickly stench of perfume that hangs around him.

The driving him around part you can manage, him calling you nonstop you can manage, you just scheme how you’ll retaliate next week. What you can’t manage however is the fact that he barely says a word other than giving you directions or orders. You would think you’d be happy with the silence and only talking when absolutely necessary, but it bothers you. Even when fighting with him he at least acknowledged your existence, now it just feels like you’re truly an Uber driver. The silence feels eerie, and you don’t like being seen only as a tool for him to get somewhere. You’re still a human being.

Speaking of you being a human being, all the driving around at all hours, and trying to study and get all your assignments done have been leaving one thing severely neglected. Yourself. 

You haven’t slept more than two hours at a time the whole week, and today it finally caught up to you. You’ve been feeling a bit sick since yesterday, but you didn’t want to give Yoongi an excuse to twist it around, that your asking for a day off is you giving up. So, you didn’t say anything but when you finally got home after another one of Yoongi’s midnight coffee runs, Jin and Hobi knows your coffee order off by heart now, you literally collapsed onto the couch where you are still laying right now.

Yoongi keeps knocking on the door and it takes a good minute for you to drag your very sore and weak body up to open it. When you do, you see a very smug Yoongi, clearly ready to tell you that he wins.

“Princess, you do know that you not picking me up means that I… hey are you okay?” He trails off from his original speech, his smug look fading as his eyes roam over your very pale face and notice how you’re leaning on the doorway for support.

“Y/n are you sick?” He frowns. He sounds concerned and you really don’t feel up to pretending you’re not sick when you feel like you’ll fall over from a light breeze.

“Yeah.” Your voice is hoarse, and it hurts to talk, you can see his frown deepening.

“Sorry for not picking you up Yoongi.” You push yourself off of the doorframe, getting ready to just face defeat and retreat to your comfy bed, or couch rather, you don’t think you can make it to your bed.

As soon as you’re erect however your eyes go black for a moment, stars dance in the air and you feel yourself stumble. You’re righted by a hand on your shoulder. Your fuzzy eyes take a moment to return to normal and the head rush passes. You blink a few times before you’re able to focus again and when you do the sight that greets you is a strange one.

 Yoongi is standing closer than before, his hands are on your shoulders, but the strangest thing is his face. You and Yoongi rarely see each other with any facial expression other than glaring, so to see Yoongi’s brows furrowed and his eyes wide moving all over your face in concern is not something you’ve ever seen before.

“Y/n, come on let’s get you inside.” His voice is softer than usual, not very different, you doubt a lot of people would be able to really tell you the difference, but you hear it, the softness, and you’re startled by it. So much so that you don’t resist when he drags you to the couch. You sit down on instinct, and he throws one of the blankets surrounding you over your shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” His voice is stern, and you glance up at him. It sounds like he wants to fight, and you cringe at the thought of having to spend so much energy on arguing right now, but he’s waiting for an answer, so you give it.

“I didn’t think you would really care about that.”  You look at his face cautiously expecting to see the usual anger bubble up, and you can see it starting but he presses it down. Apparently, this morning is full of surprises. He bends down sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

“Y/n I know you see me as an asshole, but you should know, I’m not a monster.”

“Well, you certainly had me fooled this week, you barely talked.” You shoot back at him struggling to hide the pout, but you’re sick not dying so you succeed and this time you see he rises to the poking.

“Maybe I just wasn’t in the mood to fight, seeing as we clearly can’t even speak without fighting.” He stands up again, folding his arms.

“Well maybe if you acted less like a jerk then we wouldn’t have to fight all the time.” You counter. The pounding in your head is killing you and speaking is making your throat burn, him being here is only making it worse.

“Maybe I only act like a jerk because your personality brings out the worst in me.” He snaps, not raising his voice but sneering at you all the same. His words finally push you overboard.

“Listen here you asshole, you are the one that made me drive you around all night, so don’t blame your jerkiness on me you stupid ...” You push yourself up to be closer to his eye level before finishing the insulting names you plan to call him but immediately you feel the head rush again.

“Will you please for the love of all that is holy sit down.” He growls out and you frown at him, but once again you can’t argue, you really need to sit down, your head is spinning. “Now I am going to make you some tea, you’re going to drink it and sleep.”

“No,” you say glaring at him. He stares and sighs, pinching his nose bridge.

“Fine, be like that I’m only…”

“I want hot chocolate.”

Yoongi looks at you in surprise. “What did you say?”

You cross your arms and look him right in the eye. “I don’t want stupid tea. I want hot chocolate.”

Yoongi keeps staring at you for another moment, and you swear you can see a quirk of his mouth corner. He wants to laugh. But instead, he clears his throat and walks out of your front door. You stare in disbelief. He really just left.

You curse him out in your head. You were joking, kind of, mostly you were arguing just for arguing’s sake. You shake your head at the audacity and pull the blanket tightly around yourself. After a few minutes, you place your feet on the ground and prepare yourself to stand up when the door swings open, revealing Yoongi with a mug in each hand.

“I thought I told you to sit down?” He raises an eyebrow at you closing the door behind him as you sit back, secretly glad you didn’t have to stand up now.

Yoongi hands you one of the mugs, which you take to survey its content. You’re expecting the clear greenish liquid of tea, but you’re met with warm chocolatey goodness, two and a half marshmallows melting slowly on top. You look to where he is sitting in your one armchair.

“Hot chocolate.” You state.

“Hot chocolate.” He nods and you can’t help but give him a smile, probably one of the firsts ever.

He merely surveys you over the rim of his cup as he drinks. His hot chocolate is really the best you’ve ever tasted and combining that with the absolute exhaustion you’ve barely finished the cup before you’re sleeping soundly.

After that, things seem to shift a bit, not a lot, most people don’t even notice it except maybe Namjoon who according to Jimin upped his bet against Jungkook. You and Yoongi still argue but compared to the previous weeks it’s not nearly as heated and more importantly, after the chilly silence that shrouded you the arguing is a bit welcomed. 

What does change however is the fact that you two actually talk, it’s not much but it feels completely different, even if most of the conversations still end up in an argument.

The arguments become less personal, of course, you still hate each other but after the olive branch that was the hot chocolate when you were sick, his company has become almost bearable to you, almost.

.

.

.

“Yoongi I want to go home.” You’re whining you know but you’re tipsy and tired. Your feet hurt from all the dancing and you’re glaring at the softly blurring form of the black-haired man who is driving. 

“It’ll be quick” he retorts, he’s irritated, you can tell by the set of his jaw. 

“Stopping at your studio is not quick it’s out of the way.” Your voice is drawling a bit and you roll down the window. The cold air helps the fogginess disappear and you  focus on it so much that you barely realise you’ve stopped in front of the music department building. So much for winning the argument.

Yoongi turns to you while he rolls up the window. You turn around, your cheeks and nose red from the cold air and your eyes more alert than it’s been the whole drive here. He clears his throat to get your attention and your head snaps to him. 

“Do you maybe want to…” he hesitates and looks away pulling out the keys from the ignition. You stare at him not sure what he is going to say but you are definitely not expecting him to say, “Do you want to come up with me?” 

You think for a second before nodding. “Well, I don’t want to sit in the car.” He rolls his eyes and gets out of the car. You follow, a bit wonky on your sore feet still stuffed into the stupid high heels. You walk a bit behind him, letting him lead the way.

 He invited you to his studio, he’s never done this before and when you step through the door you feel like you’re almost intruding. You’ve been in each other’s homes more times than you can count but his studio feels more personal, more intimate and you’re unsure what to make of it. 

“You can sit down, I just need to transfer this file.” He states as he moves over to the computer, pushing his office chair to you. You sit down as he requested and take the opportunity to look around the room. The music majors can hire out a studio room for the year. Most people don’t go to the trouble, but Yoongi has fully made the space his own. The furniture is dark and the soundproof black sponge lining the walls darkens the space even more. The only light breaking the darkness is the blue LED strips running around his desk. 

“Why did you put so much effort into your studio?” You wonder out loud. He looks at you over his shoulder, his profile illuminated by the computer screen and for a second you remember why you thought of him to be so handsome when you met him. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, looking back at the screen and continuing what he was doing.

“I just mean, most people don’t put so much effort into a room you won’t be using for that long,” You spin around on the chair as you speak. “Most people just put effort into their apartments.”

“Well, I don’t like working at home.” 

“Why not?” You ask without giving it much thought, you’re stopped from spinning more by a foot appearing on the seat. “Maybe because I am constantly disturbed at home by a certain someone.”

You glare ready to fight and defend yourself when you see his face. It’s not his usual arguing face, his one eyebrow is raised and there is a slight quirk to his mouth. You haven’t seen him looking like this, he looks playful. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The reply slips out and you blame the past week of having conversations with him that had minimal arguing in them. You stare at him though, challenging him to say something snarky, but he merely laughs. You don’t know if it’s by accident but his foot on the seat next to you pulls the chair closer to him. You stare up at him, now almost against his body. He stares at you too, his eyes surveying your face.

“Of course, you don’t know.” He says it with a smirk, the joke continuing but you feel like the mood’s changed, like that static before your arguments. His eyes are stuck on your face, and he is leaning in slightly. You don’t know if you’re imagining it or if he’s also aware of it. You’re about to reply when a ding from the computer pulls his eyes away from your face and you feel able to breathe again. 

He pulls the USB from the slot and walk past you after switching the computer off. “Come on princess or do you expect me to carry you down.” The snap is back in his voice, and you roll your eyes standing up and walking past him down the hall, not waiting for him. 

He catches up quickly though, you’re still not able to walk properly because of your shoes.

“Why are you walking so god damn slow?” He snaps at you, falling into step beside you. You glare at him.

“My shoes are killing me, you might feel sorry for me if you had an ounce of sympathy for anyone.” You snap back, irritated at his change of behaviour, but comforted by the fact that whatever happened back there was just a moment of something stupid, nothing to think or wonder about.

“Right, I am so sorry princess that your poor feet are hurting,” His voice is high pitched, sarcasm dripping in it. You glare at him out the corner of your eye as he continues. “because of the stupid shoes you chose to wear.” His voice returns to normal, but the insane amount of sarcasm remains, and you scoff finally having had enough. You stop and rip the shoes from your feet, stomping out of the building all the way to the car.

You wait outside of the passenger’s side door for him to unlock the car. Your feet and body are freezing as you stand on the cold concrete. Yoongi comes waltzing out of the building a few seconds later, twirling the keys around his finger as he slowly descends the stairs. He could unlock the car from where he is but because he is an asshole he only unlocks it when he is at the driver’s door.

“Climb in princess.” Is the only thing he says as he gets in the car and if it was a warmer night you would have refused to do anything this infuriating man said to you. Unfortunately, it is not a warmer night, and your feet are turning red with cold. So reluctantly you get into the car just before he speeds off.

You ignore him the rest of the drive home, irritated and angry. The feeling is so easy to sink into, you almost feel bad, but then you look at his face, and the infuriating feeling takes over completely. He is just so frustrating, and it makes you want to scream sometimes.

The car stops in the parking spot, and you jump out as fast as you can. Walking into the building with your shoes in hand you completely ignore the man walking just behind you.

He stops at his door but doesn’t go in until he calls out with a giggling voice. “See you tomorrow for your class.”  People are staring at you, you understand why, you’re walking shoes in hand in a party dress with your mortal enemy screaming about seeing you the next day. 

You zap him without turning around and burst into your apartment, rage bubbling up. You fall onto the couch, pushing your face into a pillow and you let out a scream of frustration. The sound is muffled by the material, but you feel better after letting it all out. 

Tonight has been a rollercoaster and for once it only applies to things happening after the party. The way he invited you into his studio,  you’re sure that isn’t something that happens often. You play with the frills on the edges of the cushion. Maybe he was trying to be nice, maybe you should try to do the same. You roll onto your stomach and press your face into the cushion again at the thought. He was nice and polite and suddenly something happened that you will not think about. No, you will only think of how irritating he is with his stupid face and stupid smile. You scream again.

.

.

.

“Maybe we should pull over Yoongi.” 

The rain is flooding the street and the wind is blowing so hard you’re scared the whole car will be blown away at any moment.

“It’s fine,” Yoongi scoffs rolling his eyes at you. You’re about to retort when the hail begins. With a glance at you, Yoongi sighs. 

“Okay maybe just for a moment.” He pulls the car over under a tree. “I’m sure the storm will blow over soon.” He says wistfully, turning the ignition off. 

“Yeah let’s hope so,” you stare out the window at the sheets of rain that keep assaulting the car. 

It’s quiet, you two being quiet is nothing new, but usually, during the short drives you talk, but now, stuck with each other for who knows how long you’re not sure what to say. You don’t want to start a fight accidentaly by saying the wrong thing, because that will just make the situation worse seeing as neither of you have a place to storm away to. So instead of speaking, you look around the car searching for something polite to talk about.

“What is your favourite colour.” The question bursts from your mouth, and you bite your lip, cautiously looking at him to see his reaction. He stares at you in surprise before smiling and then he starts to laugh. 

You stare at him now, your head tilted and your eyebrow raised at his weird reaction. His laughter bubbles down to a chuckle and he clears his throat when he realise how you’re looking at him. 

“Sorry, it’s just you trying to make small talk is  funny.” He tries to explain. 

“Well, I’m sorry.” You scoff. You can’t believe him, you’re just trying to be polite at least. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” You give him a distrusting glare, but he continues. “I promise.” He turns to you, unbuckling his seatbelt to turn fully in his seat.

When he sees you’re not going to say anything further he tilts his head until he is in your sight. 

“To answer your question.” he smiles lightly, “ My favourite colour is purple.” 

You glance at him. “Mine too.” 

“Really?” He pulls away a bit and he laughs, “ I didn’t know that.” 

You glance at him again, before relaxing your posture. You turn a bit more towards him. 

“We don’t really know a lot about each other.” You state. Thinking about it, it is strange, you spend so much time together, you technically share friends, and you are in each other’s homes often, and yet you know almost nothing about him.

“You’re right,” he sounds a bit surprised, “ well we have time, why don’t you tell me about yourself?” 

You look at him fully now. He seems to be in a good mood, and you don’t think you’ll be able to handle the awkward silence the entire time. So why not get to know your nemesis just a bit. 

“What do you want to know?” You ask cautiously, still not completely trusting that this isn't some prank.

“O uhm,” he thinks for a second. “ What are you studying?”

“Really?” You chuckle a bit, you have no idea why this is so funny, maybe because it is so foreign behaviour for you two.

“Yeah, you know what I study, but I have no idea what studying  I’m always dragging you away from.” He smiles brightly at you, encouragingly. “Also I don’t think I’ve ever come across a major that has so many early morning classes.”

You chuckle. “English,” he tilts his head slightly, “I want to become a writer.” you explain as if to justify it. “I know it’s a stupid dream to have, but it’s been mine since childhood.”

“So no wanting to be a princess or actress?” he asks, his head still tilted.

You shake your head. “Nope, I’ve always wanted to write poetry.” 

“Poetry,” he sounds surprised, leaning back a bit, and you just nod. He stares straight ahead of him, and you take that as the cue that the conversation is over so you turn back to the window, to look at the rain.

“I don’t think that is a stupid dream.” He says suddenly and you turn back to him. 

“You don’t?” You don’t really believe him.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve wanted to be a music producer since I was a child. How is that so much different than wanting to write poetry,” He turns his head to you while speaking. he smiles softly at you in reassurance. “If anything I think it’s amazing.” 

You stare at him. No one has actually ever said that to you. Most people just act surprised and brush it off, not wanting to be the one to tell you how unrealistic it is. He looks sincere and it makes your heart clench a bit, you can feel a burning in your sinuses, but you swallow the tears away.

“ Thank you,” you whisper, afraid to speak too loudly and have your voice crack.  He stares at you, not in surprise but with a soft stare, his eyes warm and you can’t believe he is directing that look at you. 

You clear your throat, unbuckling your seat belt you turn your body fully, putting your feet on the seat and hug your knees to your chest leaning on the closed door.

“ How about your parents?” He frowns in confusion at your question. 

“What about them?” 

“Are they supportive of your dream?” You clarify.

“O,” his face turns into a gummy smile and you can’t help but stare at how pretty it makes him look. “Yeah, they are very supportive. My mom took me to music classes every week, and my dad helped me soundproof the guest bedroom to work in.” He smiles larger while he talks about his parents and all their help. “How about your parents?” he asks he looks genuinely curious.

“Uhm,” You try to figure out how to exactly say it. “They don’t really care for it.” You don’t look him in the eye. “They wanted me to be a lawyer. I applied here because of the amazing English program, and I got in on a tennis scholarship, so my parents didn’t have to pay.” 

“Wait tennis?” He is shocked you can tell without even looking at him. 

“Yeah I’m actually really good, but god Yoongi,” You turn back to him, “ I fucking hate tennis.” You chuckle out the words so glad to finally be able to say it to someone. He stares before he starts laughing, causing you to laugh harder. 

You both just sit there laughing in the car, with the rain pouring down around you, and the wind blowing through the big old tree you’re parked under. You laugh until your stomach hurts. 

“So I dropped it, with the excuse that my studies are too much.” you continue after you calmed down a bit. “But that means my parents have to pay my tuition now, so the deal is they keep paying if I keep getting good grades.” You finish kind of sadly, they really don’t support your choice of major and it has always hurt you.

“That’s why you are so anal about tyour grades?” Yoongi guesses, and he is right, so you just nod. He bites his lip in thought a moment.

“Well,” Yoongi takes your hand sensing how sad you really are about the subject, “You’re here now, and you’re doing what you love, and you seem to be balancing your studies with partying,” You roll your eyes at the teasing bit, “no but really you’re following your dreams, that’s a big win, and it makes you very brave for doing it.” he smiles reassuringly at you and you return it after a moment. His words actually do make you feel better and the weight of his hand around yours reassures you even more. He is right of course, you are studying what you want, and you are following your dreams, it is something to be happy about. 

“Thank you Yoongi.” You squeeze his hand lightly in thanks. 

“Don’t even mention it.” He squeezes back. “I’d like to read some of your poetry sometime, maybe they make good song lyrics too.”

“Really?” He nods at your question. You have thought about it in the past but overall you never actually tried writing songs, maybe you should try. 

“Okay, maybe that’s where my true talent lies.” You chuckle. 

“Hmmm,” Yoongi hums out, leaning back in his seat, looking at the rain that is a lot calmer now, the hail has also cleared up. 

“ I guess we should get home?” He words it as a question, and you kind of want to say no, you realise with a shock you want to keep it like this. No arguing or snappy comments, just talking. But you doubt it could ever truly be like that, Yoongi has made it clear he can’t stand you and wants this deal to be over so that he can be rid of you. So instead you pull your hand away and nod. 

He merely nods as well, the silence returns and he drives out from underneath the tree.

 You stare at your hand. You already miss the warmth of his. You shake your head, you can’t feel that way, you’ll only get hurt.  

You get out of the car as soon as it stops in the parking space. You don’t look back at the man following you to your floor, you don’t want to know how his face looks. Is he sad that you pulled away? Or is he relieved to be away from you? 

You rush through your door, closing it tightly behind you. Resisting the urge to look at Yoongi. You sigh as you sit on the floor. What on earth just happened?

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.

. 

The music is loud and the cup in your hand is already empty again. You’re dancing chest to chest with one of your friends, you’re both screaming the words to the song playing. You came out with them tonight, Yoongi is going to some club with his friends leaving you to drive with yours. 

Your brain is right on that edge of being tipsy and drunk and you revel in the feeling, all your responsibilities and worries melted away by the alcohol. 

The next song comes on and taking that as your cue you scream to your friend that you’re going to the bathroom. She merely nods, drunker than you are and you leave the dancefloor heading up the stairs wonkily. 

Your legs are struggling to move but somehow with a lot of concentration you make it all the way up. 

You know the house well, having been to multiple parties here in the past. You walk to the bathroom. The door is open and the light illuminates the otherwise dark landing.

 You’re halfway there when a voice calls your name, making you turn around, the action causing you to lose your balance but you’re righted by the arms gripping you tightly. You look up, the face that greets you is not the one you want to see. His face isn’t as pretty, his eyes not as perfect and there is no gummy smile adorning his mouth. Instead, the face belongs to the football captain. You had once found his face the epitome of attractiveness and due to that, you have hooked up a few times.

He helps you stand on your feet again, but his hands don’t release your waist and after a minute you push away from him.��

“Hey, what are you doing?” He asks with a teasing edge to his voice, he’s always teasing, you used to like that as well. 

You shake your head at him. “I’m a bit too drunk for this.” 

You know what he wants, what he always wants but you do not feel sober enough to consent and honestly seeing him again now you’re having trouble pinpointing why you liked him so much.

“Ag no come on.” He pulls you against him again, this time with a bit more force, and you stumble, off-balance.

 You shake your head, uncomfortable in his arms. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more private?” He whispers in your ear, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

You shake your head again, more sober than you were a moment ago, all your instincts flaring up.

 “No, I really don’t want to.” You push him away again, this time walking past him as you do so. He however grabs your arm, your wrist being crushed as he drags you back.

“Come on, don’t be like that, I promise you’ll like it.” He is smiling at you, but it makes the hairs on your neck stand up.

“Let go, you’re hurting me.” You try to pull away, but he only holds on tighter, causing tears to spring to your eyes.

“Don’t be difficult Y/n.” He is tugging you further down the hall, his voice is impatient.

“Let go of me.” You try to release his grip on your arm by clawing at his hand, but it doesn’t budge. 

Instead, he pushes you to the wall, groping your ass, and slamming your head against the wall painfully. Your arm is pressed above your head, as he leans in, smiling at you, surveying the way you’re struggling to getaway. 

Your head is shaking from side to side as you kick and try to make him back off, but he is so much stronger than you, and when he grabs your face you can’t do anything at all. 

“Just relax it’ll feel good if you do.” He whispers before pressing his lips onto yours and sticking his tongue down your throat. 

His hand travels up your skirt and you try to push him away again, biting hard into his lip. The shock makes him release you and you run down the hall on wonky legs, but he grabs you again. He is outraged now and you’re shaking in his hold, tears streaming down your face. 

You’re about to be dragged back again when a voice has both your heads swinging to the stairs.

“What’s going on here?” Your friend is looking from your teary face to his hand clenching your wrist. 

“Nothing, just mind your own business.” Comes his authoritative voice, but you’re staring at your friend willing her to please help. She gets your signal because she steps closer.

 “Y/n why don’t you come down with me, everyone is waiting.” She looks at him when saying those last words, and you almost cry from relief when he lets you go. 

You don’t waste any time quickly walking down the stairs, your friend's arm around you guiding you down the steps.

As soon as you’re in the crowded room she turns to you, inspecting your face, frowning. “Are you okay?” she looks at your arm, but you pull it away, “Did he hurt you?” You merely shake your head, too stunned to speak, still in shock.

“Fucking bastard.” She says with a sneer, turning her head up to the landing, before turning back to your shaking form. “Do you want me to take you home?” Her face is soft and worried, and behind her you see her boyfriend waiting. You shake your head not wanting to inconvenience her.

 “It’s okay, I have someone I can call for a lift.” Your voice is shaky, and she frowns. 

“Are you sure? I can take you.” She insists but you shake your head again. 

“I’ll be okay, I just want to go outside to call him.” She follows you out and stands a bit away keeping you in her eyesight but giving you your privacy.

Your fingers are shaky as you press the call button, Yoongi’s number being at the top of your recent calls. Voicemail greets you again and again as you keep trying. You stare at your phone for a moment before pushing the call button again.

“Hi, Y/n” his voice greets you, and you let out a small sob in relief, “y/n is everything alright?” he asks clearly concerned and you shake your head, taking a shaky breath in. 

“Can you come pick me up please?”

Your friend waits with you until the car pulls up next to the curb. The driver gets out and walks over to you, his brow furrowing at your tear-stained face, mascara running down your cheeks. He gives you a hug when he’s close enough, and you let out little snivels into his chest. 

“Thank you Jungkook.” You whisper but he clearly hears you because he pulls away, his hair in a bun and big eyes assessing you, but he doesn’t ask the questions burning on his tongue. You appreciate that, not sure you can talk about it now. 

“Come on let me get you home okay?” You nod and he leads you to his car, opening the passenger door for you.

The drive back to your apartment is mostly quiet just filled with your snivelling once in a while and Jungkook’s worried stares. He turns to you fully when you’re stopped at a red light. The light is shining onto you both, giving the car a strange hellish look.Strangely appropriate.

 “Y/n, are you okay?” You feel your bottom lip quivering again so you bite it. You can’t speak so you just nod your head. 

“I don’t believe you. You’re stubborn but you never try to hide your emotions like this.” The red turns to green and he turns back to the road, the car moving again. He is much more serious than he usually is.

“I understand if you don’t want to tell me, and I’m glad you called me, I am, but I just want to know.” He looks at you before looking back to the road. “Why didn’t you call Yoongi?” He looks at you again, waiting for an answer, but you look out the window. 

You wipe away a tear and take a breath in. For the first time since you called Jungkook, you say something. 

“I tried.” You look down at your phone the time reading just past eleven. “He… he didn’t pick up.” Your voice cracks, but you swallow the tears down. You have to get a grip on yourself.

 Jungkook sighs, “I’m sorry Y/n, he probably turned his phone off after they went to his apartment.” 

He sounds very apologetic, but you can feel the numbness setting in now. Everything is drowned out but your brain catches onto something. 

“They?” You look at Jungkook who is pulling up in front of your building. He starts and realises what he said, he gulps and avoids looking at you. 

“Yoongi and a girl.” Jungkook cautiously looks at your expression, expecting to find rage there, that like always you’re going to storm in on Yoongi and fight with him and then you’ll calm down and probably have coffee. 

He doesn’t find that, instead, your expression holds something far worse. Nothing. You don’t frown or cry or look mad at all, that scares him.  

You feel the hurt mix into you along with the disgust and fear but it doesn’t rise at all. It doesn’t reach your eyes in the form of tears or your head in the form of rage. It just lies there, like everything dead and cold.

You thank Jungkook, an empty thank you, you want to hug him and tell him that you appreciate him so much, but instead, you can’t even muster a real smile for him.

The walk to your apartment is blurry and you don’t really register anything until Jungkook sets a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. He must have walked you up. He leaves after helping you put on a cardigan and saying that you can call him whenever you need something, anything.

You just stare at the black tv. 

You’re fighting, trying to keep the emotions away. Jungkook was right, you never hideaway your emotions. You cry when you’re sad and express your anger and irritation. You don’t pretend nothing is wrong when something is. So now when your body is trying to protect you, it feels strange and some part of you is seeking the emotions. Trying to wake them up, digging through the darkness they borrowed into. Another part is fighting against it, hiding it deeper away, knowing that if you find them it might be too much. You are aware however that there are three distinct emotions hidden.

The first is fear, the fear of what could have happened if your friend didn’t find you in time. The fear that suffocated you when that creep had pinned you to the wall, how helpless you felt.

The second is guilt. You feel guilty that you ever put yourself in that situation. Guilty that you drank so much and maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress.

The third is hurt. Hurt that the person you had spent the past few weeks with trying to drive each other crazy had actually left you. Hurt that clearly you haven’t been getting as close as you thought. Hurt that the few weeks making the fighting and hate of the past year melt away was only clear to you. Hurt that he didn’t care and hurt that you’re realising that you care too much.

You’re struggling to keep it all away, sitting on the couch not moving. Not touching the hot chocolate because you know it won’t taste as good as his.

There is a knock at your door and for the first time since you moved in you use the peephole, just to make sure who is on the other side. As if you summoned him by thinking of his hot chocolate, Yoongi is standing outside your door. By instinct when you see him you open it.

He looks out of breath. His eyes are worried but the rest of his appearance makes the hurt bubble a bit.

His hair looks ruffled as if someone had been tugging at it. His silk shirt was clearly thrown on in a haste, the buttons not lined up with the right holes. 

You look at his face. His cheeks are a bit too pink, and his lips are swollen, and red. You’ve seen this look on too many men to know what it means and if you were able to feel right now you would be angry and sad.

“Y/n are you alright?” He is surveying your face, his eyes darting across it. “Jungkook called me, he said you asked him to take you home. That he…he was worried about you.” You just nod.

 “I’m fine.” You get the sentence out without letting the emotions you’re starting to lose a grip on follow it.

“Are you sure? You don’t look fine.” He is standing closer, and you wish he wouldn’t, his presence is making it harder not to cry.

“I’m sure I’m fine Yoongi, just go.” Your hand is searching for the doorknob to close it. Yoongi follows your arm movement confused when suddenly he gasps.

 “Y/n” he grabs your arm. At first, you think he is trying to stop you but you see he is looking at the purple bruised skin. Finger shapes clearly visible in the tender flesh. 

You stare at it. Suddenly the hallway is dark and you’re being pulled away, your arm is pressed above your head, and you’re completely helpless.

“Let go.” You scream, and as soon as the words leave your mouth you’re back in the doorway of your apartment, Yoongi staring at you in shock, his hand dropping from your arm immediately.

“Y/n, who did this.” His words are laced with rage. “Y/n,” He takes a breath in trying to calm down, trying to not scare you, “please tell me who hurt you.” You shake your head, cradling your arm to your chest.

“It doesn’t matter alright, just leave me alone.” You can feel the tears coming, your lip trembling and your nose burning. Yoongi however doesn’t turn and leave, instead, he takes a small step forward.

“Y/n I don’t know what happened, but why don’t we go inside hmmm?” His brow is furrowed in worry. “Why don’t you let me take care of you?”

You stare at him. You really want to give in. You can see yourself fall into his arms, see him carry you to the couch and hold you as you cry, telling you it’s going to be okay as you tell him what happened. You so badly want to tell him what happened and have him chase away the badness. You want him to make you hot chocolate, his hot chocolate that always makes you feel alright. You want to give in.

You’re close to doing so when your eyes catch on his shirt again, the bruise on his neck and you swallow. He isn’t yours to be comforted by. So, you take a step back, back into your apartment, your hand on the door. He watches you, waiting for you to let him in. Instead, you shake your head. 

“Leave me alone Yoongi.” He stares at you.

 “Y/n please…”

“Leave me alone!” The tears are finally breaking from their bonds and you’re screaming again, your emotions found. 

“I’m calling it off okay, this stupid deal, you can have the parking space, now just leave me alone and go back to whoever you were going to fuck tonight.” You swing the door closed. 

The hurt that was written on his face now courses through you as everything breaks. Everything that happened, that could have happened and what didn’t happen. 

You slide to the floor sobbing. The knocks at the door and your name being called, end only after a neighbour comes out to complain. When it does you return to the couch, picking up the cup of hot chocolate. 

You sob again because you were right, it doesn’t taste anything like his.

.

.

.

Your boots crunch through the snow. The sidewalk is slippery and you walk carefully,  trying not to fall. You’re almost at your apartment building. As you pass the empty parking spot you look away. 

You haven’t spoken to Yoongi since that last fight when you called the deal off. You haven’t told anyone what happened that night, however, your friend with your permission did send in an anonymous complaint to the school board that is apparently being investigated. Your friend has also been very supportive and you have been working through everything over the past few weeks. However, you still feel guilty about how you screamed at Yoongi and in the same breath you also still feel hurt. 

You know you have no reason to feel hurt, it’s not like you were in a relationship with him. He is free to do as he pleases, and yet you can’t shake the betrayed feeling, no matter how hard you try. 

The parking spot was occupied by his car for a while but for the past few days, it has been completely empty. Your phone has also been ringing non-stop again.

The boys keep messaging and calling you, more intensely than before, but you have been ignoring them. You feel stupid for how you reacted but you’ve been feeling so numb you haven’t had the energy to deal with any of them. You have even been skipping classes you share with Jimin and Taehyung. 

Eventually, they stopped but a few days ago they started up again. You almost want to answer and ask them why, but you don’t, you’re way too stubborn for that. 

Yoongi however hasn’t called or messaged you once since that night and you understand why, but once again it hurts. You know you’re being just as stubborn as he is, and yet you feel like he messed up just as much as you have, he can at least try.

Your freezing hands struggle with the keys to your apartment. You hear a door open somewhere down the hall and instinctively you start moving faster, just in case it is Yoongi. You do not want to face him, you refuse to.

“Y/n?” You hear your name being called and you freeze, you hear hurried footsteps approach and you try harder to unlock your door. It swings open and you rush inside closing it. 

A hand catch it just before it closes. You stare as it opens to reveal a frowning Namjoon. 

“Why are you ignoring us?” He cuts straight to the point and you swallow guiltily. He steps into your apartment closing the door behind him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  You go on the defence, feigning ignorance.

Namjoon scoffs crossing his arms. “Please Y/n don’t try and play dumb we have been trying to call you.” 

“I must have missed your calls.” You remove your jacket and boots, trying to ignore his presence. 

Namjoon grabs your phone from your jacket pocket. You forgot to remove it before taking the jacket off. 

“Clearly.” He turns the phone to show the 40 missed calls from them, except Yoongi of course. 

“Listen Namjoon I thought you got the message when I didn’t answer,” You cross your arms staring at him now. You’re getting irritated. “I don’t know why you have started up again so drastically.”

“Because…” He starts but you cut him off.

“Besides I don’t understand why you are trying to call me, Yoongi can do it himself.” You glare at Namjoon. You’re not used to glaring at him, it feels strange. 

“We told him not to, to give you space,” Namjoon explains, and you frown for a second. If that’s true it makes sense why he didn’t call you beforehand, or why he hasn’t tried to visit. He takes what they say very seriously, you know that.

“Well, I still don’t understand why he can’t call now.” You argue, going back to glaring. If they all are so insistent to reach you now, why isn’t he part of them?

“Because..” Namjoon starts to answer but you interrupt him again.

“And for that matter, he lives five doors down, if you can come to visit me why can’t he?” You are angry now, not at Namjoon but at the stupid man who is probably at someone else’s house, doing god knows what. “And…”

“Y/n!” Namjoon interrupts you. You stare at him in shock. You’ve never heard Namjoon raise his voice, never mind at you. 

“Just listen please,” He says in his normal calm tone. “There is a good explanation for all of this.”

You nod for him to continue, still a bit in shock at hearing Namjoon scream.

“The reason why we’ve been calling all the time, and he hasn’t is because, well,” Namjoon pauses as if to brace himself before continuing, “  Y/n Yoongi was in a car accident a few days ago. He hit the ice wrong and crashed into a tree.”

You gasp, eyes huge in shock. “What!” All anger at Yoongi flies out of your body and intense worry and guilt take over. 

“Is he okay?” 

“When did it happen?”

You assault Namjoon with questions. Your breathing is coming too quickly, and you can feel tears running down your face as all the possibilities of what could have happened run through you.

“Wow Y/n, breathe” Namjoon holds you by the shoulders leading you to the couch where you sit down, still hyperventilating. You feel a panic attack coming on and Namjoon senses it too. 

“Hey, breathe with me okay.” You nod looking at him, “Deep breath in, and out.” You follow his breathing and soon you’re calming down, the tears lessen and your breaths come slower. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to react that way.” You sniff. Namjoon hands you a tissue, and you blow your nose. 

“It’s okay,” He soothes you. 

You look up at him, your eyes still shimmering with tears. 

“Is he okay Joon?” You are scared to hear the answer.

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Namjoon nods. 

“O thank god.” You let out a relieved and shaky breath. 

“He is in the hospital though, he broke his arm, and bruised a couple of ribs,” Namjoon informs you. 

You nod at the new information, glad that he isn’t hurt too badly. 

“He’s been asking for you,” Your head shoots up, “ that’s why we have been trying to reach you.”

You stare at him for a second, your mind reeling. You try to sift through the mess that is your thoughts but as a collective, they all say the same thing before becoming a mess again. You should go see him.

“Can I go see him?” You ask timidly and Namjoon smiles, his eyes scrunching up.

“I’ll drive.” 

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The hospital room is full of whispers as you approach it. You’ve never been in this hospital before so Namjoon had to lead the way. You follow him cautiously into the room stopping in the doorway. Yoongi is asleep on the bed, the rest is sitting around the him, only Jin and Hobi is missing but you guess they’re at the cafe.

“Maybe I should try to call her again.” Jimin whispers. 

“Jimin, maybe she just needs more time, you didn’t see her that night, she was so scared” Jungkook tries to deter him. 

“Yeah but Yoongi hyung isn’t going to stop asking for her, so we should just keep trying,” Jimin replies.

“I don’t know if she’ll come Jimin, she’s even been avoiding us,” Taehyung interjects. “Jin and Hobi hyung says they haven’t seen her in the cafe for weeks.”

At this point, you feel it’s a good time to make your presence known so you clear your throat. 

Everyone’s attention swivels to you, except Namjoon who is just gathering his jacket. 

“Y/n you came?” Jimin sounds like he is unsure about it. 

“Yeah, Namjoon found me and told me what happened.” You explain sheepishly, you shrink a bit under their stares. You’ve been ignoring them and they know that, they must think you’re an awful bitch. 

“ I’m sorry,” you blurt it out, afraid that if you delay it you’ll chicken out. “I shouldn’t have ignored you, I was just going through a lot.” You move further into the room, before continuing, “I know it’s not an excuse, but…”

“Y/n, it's okay,” Jimin interrupts your rambling. You shut your mouth frowning at him, why do they all look so forgiving. 

“Jungkook told us what happened,” Taehyung explains, but your frown deepens.

“I didn’t tell him what happened,” You stare at the boy in question. “How did you know?” 

He gulps under your stare. “Well, I didn’t exactly know but when the accusations against that guy came out, we put two and two together.” He shrugs, waiting for your response. 

Your mind reels, you feel embarrassed that they know, but truthfully you’re glad you don’t have to tell them what happened. But them knowing also means that the sleeping man on the bed probably knows as well.

“We’re sorry you had to go through that Y/n,” Namjoon says, comforting you, clearly speaking for them all because everyone nods, looking at you with sad eyes. 

“Thanks,” You nod in acknowledgement, “ I”m uhm…working through it.” You bite your lip not really looking at them. 

“Does he know?” you gesture with your head towards Yoongi. You look at them one by one while they shift uncomfortably. 

“Yeah, we told him,” Jungkook confirms and you merely nod. You should have known they would tell him.

“ Yeah he was angry,” Namjoon reminisces, you frown at him, “ We had to stop him from hunting the guy down.” 

“Really?” You tilt your head a bit to the side in confusion. 

“O yeah, we had to save Namjoon’s bonsais because he was screaming and throwing everything around,” Taehyung informs you and your eyes go wide. 

He screamed and threw things. You can’t believe it, in all the time you’ve known Yoongi he has never raised his voice, even when you were screaming at him, he never screamed back. You can’t even imagine it. You bite your lip in thought, looking at the sleeping man. 

“Come on guys let’s give her some space,” Namjoon says to the other three, shepherding them out of the room. You give him a grateful smile. He nods, giving you one in return.

Now alone you sit in the seat closest to Yoongi. You stare at his face for a while. He has a nasty cut on his lip and his cheekbone is blossoming with blue and purple hues. Yet he is still the most handsome man you have ever seen. His arm is in a cast and a sling, and the IV is pushing into his hand as he holds it at an awkward angle. You carefully take his hand, moving it so that it’s flat in yours. 

“ I’m sorry” You know he can’t hear you but you still feel like he should know. “ I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You stroke some of his fringe out of his face. “ I’m really glad you’re okay, and when you wake up you’ll probably be mad at me and I get that. But I just wanted you to know just in case I don’t get the chance to say it while we’re fighting.” 

“ You’re wrong,” Yoongi grumbles out. Ironic that those will be the first words he says to you in weeks. “ I’m not mad.” 

“Yoongi,” You gasp, “you’re awake.” He slowly opens his eyes, turning his face to you.

“Last time I checked yeah.” He smiles and you roll your eyes, but you can’t keep the smile off of your face. 

“It is so like you,” You huff out, “ Going to the extreme to win an argument.” 

“ Believe me this wasn’t my choice,” he retorts, “Besides this is technically your fault.”

You gasp. “Excuse me how is this my fault.” You can’t believe he is blaming you. 

“Because it was your week.” He smiles, squeezing your hand, and you immediately relax. 

“You are such an idiot.” You chuckle. He really is but seeing him again is making you regret ignoring him. 

He sits up, flinching but refusing your help.

“ Y/n,” He is sitting fully up right now and you look at him.

 “Hmm?” You hum showing him you’re listening.

“I’m sorry,” he is holding onto your hand tighter.

“For what?” You’re not being mean you’re genuinely not sure what he is apologising for.

“About a lot of things really.” He looks down at your hands. “ But mostly I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me to be. I hate myself for not picking up your call that night. an above all else I’m sorry you had to go through that.”He looks at you, his eyes are soft and begging for your forgiveness.

You swallow around a lump in your throat at the mention of that night. You’ve been wanting to hear this since then but now that you have, you realise you don’t really care that much. 

“It’s okay,” You look away from him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“ No, I do.” He swings his legs off of the bed so that he is sitting in front of you. The position reminds you vaguely of the one you were in, in his studio. 

“Yoongi maybe you should lie down.” You don’t think it is healthy for his injuries to sit like this. You reach behind him to find a pillow so he can lie down again. But he ignores you 

“ You know I really hated you.” You stop and stare at him. 

“What?” You are very confused, about where he is trying to take this conversation.

“ Yeah I did, you were a pain in my ass, always storming into my apartment and fighting with me,” He continues, it sounds like the words are bubbling forth like he can’t stop them.

“ And when Namjoon purposed this carpool thing I accepted because I was sure I could get you to give up, and never have to see you again. And you tried the same thing. I cursed you every time I had to go drop you off at your stupid classes or when you called me away from something important, I hated you even more.” You huff and cross your arms, is he really just going to remind you about how much he hates you.

“ But then,” He’s been staring off into the distance but now he meets your eyes. “Something changed. I don’t know how, I can’t pinpoint when it happened but suddenly calling you to come and get me wasn’t purely because I wanted to irritate you. Suddenly it was a way to see you. Of course, I didn’t admit this to myself at the time.” He shakes his head. You're frozen under his gaze waiting to hear where this is going. Your heart is beating faster.

“I was stupid, I tried even harder to ignore you, and to fight you, to hate you. But you made it so hard.” He takes your hand again, intertwining your fingers this time. “ I kept trying to find the things that I used to despise you for, but it got harder and harder to find them. I found myself being jealous of the rest of the boys.” You quirk your eyebrow up at this, not understanding. “I was jealous about how easily you talked to them, I wanted you to tell all your stories to me too, I wanted you to be as casually touchy with me too, fall into my lap when you laugh too hard.” 

He takes a breath, but when you try to say something he holds up his finger for you to wait. It’s clear he has been holding this in, and you’re honestly so entranced by him you don’t want to interrupt the story. 

“ I tried to drown those thoughts out of my brain, but the more I learned about you the harder it became.” He is leaning in closer to you. “ and I do know you, y/n. I know you hate your tennis talent because your parents made you play it. I know you prefer exactly two and a half marshmallows in your hot chocolate and that you write every poem by hand because it feels more authentic to you. I know that when you're sick you become a huge baby and that you like the colour purple because you couldn’t decide between blue and pink when you were younger.”

He is just a few centimeters away from you now, your noses almost touching. Your eyes flicker down to his mouth. You can’t believe he caught onto all these small things. The static in the air is back and you wait for his last words, waiting for what he is going to do. 

“I have been a fool Y/n,” he whispers the words, he’s so close you can feel the air on your lips. “but god I can’t keep kissing other people pretending that it’s you.”

He smashes his lips onto yours. You’re startled for a moment but then you melt into the kiss. He wants to pull away but you tangle your hands into his hair, pulling him closer. You feel him smile at your movements and he pulls you onto his lap. 

He pulls away, flinching from the pain in his ribs, and you stare at him in concern before he chuckles a bit, stroking your cheek. He doesn’t give you time to speak before he is pulling you down and kissing you again, a soft kiss. You reposition yourself, straddling him. 

You keep kissing him until you’re both out of air and even then when you pull away it is only a few centimeter. You can’t stop smiling, and you imagine you look just like him, grinning like an idiot, eyes sparkling. 

“ I’m sorry I shouldn’t have just…”

You cut him off by placing a soft, quick kiss on his mouth. 

“ I think you’ve apologised enough for one day.” You smile and he kisses the tip of your nose. 

“You know you stole my speech,” You say, and he frowns. “ I was going to say the same but you had to go first didn’t you?” 

“Is not, you’re lying.” He scoffs.

“ I am not lying.” You gasp.

“ You are.” He smiles.

“Is not.” 

“Is too.” 

“You’re an idiot.” You declare, pushing him on his non-hurt shoulder. 

“Yeah,” he nods in agreement. “But now I’m your idiot.” He grins, pulling you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as he stares up at you. 

“Unfortunately.” You smile, leaning down. 

“Hey, that’s mean.” He pouts and you melt. That is definitely a weapon he is going to use way too often now. 

“ O hush and kiss me.” You say leaning down closer.

“With pleasure.” He smiles again before pressing his lips against yours. Your stomach explodes into butterflies. The first time you were shocked but now you can relish in the feeling of his lips on yours. They’re softer than you could imagine, and they mould perfectly with yours. You run your fingers through his slightly tangled hair. You lightly pull and he moans, causing you to chuckle into his mouth. 

He pulls away, your noses touching, smiling goofily. He looks perfect with his eyes staring into yours, his chest heaving against yours slightly out of air and his lips swollen. You’re just about to kiss him again when you hear a loud gasp behind you. 

“O my god.” You both look to the door, where Jungkook is standing with his jaw hanging open, before he groans. 

“Fuck, I owe Namjoon 40 bucks.” 

You and Yoongi look at each other a moment before you both burst out laughing.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed, please let me know any feedback that you may have, this is my first one shot so I hope it was okay. Please consider liking and commenting. 

Love you guys 💜

More Carpool:

Carpool-those unspoken weeks