#and the apartment building next to us is being resided which. noise.

[audliminal]

My life is truly just a constant barrage of reminders of how little people actually take the time to stop and consider how their choices might be affecting ppl around them

[hattywatch]

J. Vesey - July For the Whole Year Ch. 1

A/n: Hello all! It's been a while, but I'm still lurking about. I heard that Jimmy was back on the table for the Rangers a few months ago and started this, with endgame in mind that he'd be back and NOW HE IS. I decided to do chapters so it's easier to consume. We're clocking about 35 pages currently. It's about 90% completed, so the subsequent chapters should be up fairly quickly. This is 100% self-serving. I wanted a disgustingly long will-they-won't-they, friends to lovers, so I had to do it my damned self. Stop by, say hi, stay awhile; I read all comments, tags, messages etc- so don't be shyyyy!) Please check out my Masterlist (I finally made one!) if you want some more content :)

_______________________________

August 2017

“PIVOT!” a decidedly male voice shouts from down the hall. You almost laugh, but it’s 8am on a Saturday and you don’t really want to commit to being fully awake quite yet. 

“Dude, that was not funny 2 floors down, and it’s even less funny now-” still male, but another voice answers back. 

It seems like Stella, the building manager, has finally found someone to let the large three-bedroom at the end of the hall. It’s been vacant for the whole summer, which was nice. The floor only has 2 other 1 bedroom apartments, so it’s been you and Mr.Callahan for the better part of 3 months. He’s a septuagenarian and hardly makes any noise, so it's been akin to having the entire 4th floor to yourself and it's been too short-lived for your taste. To say you were delighted when the last tenants moved out is an understatement. You haven’t had to vie for the elevator, wake up to any loud music, or have a sneezing fit- which aroused your suspicion of a contraband feline residing nearby. You’re sad to have it come to an end, but maybe they’ll quiet down once they move in. 

Rolling over, you wedge your face in between your pillows, successfully blocking the sound and falling back into a gentle doze. 

______

Two weeks later, you’re sitting on the rooftop deck, lounging like a dog in the sun, sipping an iced-coffee from the cafe down the street and reading a magazine when the rooftop door opens to a boisterous duo, mid-conversation. 

“Brady will do it again this year. You watch. No way he retires, he’s got too much left in him. Guy’s an animal-” they’re both tall, but the sandy haired one is loud, clearly from Boston- his R’s dropping at the end of his words, making “Year,” sound wrong to your ears, attuned for New York City. 

“I’m not doubting him, man. He’s just getting up there,” they sit at the table next to you, clad in swim-suits, clearly about to use the pool- the paint is chipped and worn, but the water is crystal blue and chlorinated enough that even the unwashed masses of the city can’t sully it. The small pool is your favorite perk of the aged building.

Hiding your eyes behind your sunglasses, you size them up. They're young, likely in their twenties and they're both fit as hell, thick and muscled. Not a bad sight, but you'd hate to leer, so you go back to your magazine, only half paying attention to the chatter next to you as it moves from sport to sport before they finally walk towards the water.

It's cold, you know it's freezing, which is why you’ve chosen to tan and not float around in the water. One of the kids in the building had an accident in it last weekend; it had to be drained and cleaned and it hasn't had the time to warm up yet. It seemed almost silly to refill it now, since there's barely two weeks left of summer, but who are you to complain?

“Jesus Christ!” You can’t really hold back the laughter even though you try, so a choked snort makes its way out despite your best efforts. The sandy haired one is only in the water up to his knees and the darker haired one hasn’t even started his descent down the pool steps yet, and you don’t want to be the creep eavesdropping and gawking, so you pull your magazine up a little higher over your face to hide. 

“You could have warned us! It’s fuckin’ ice cold,” he retreats up the steps and sits back in his chair on the deck. “I’m Kevin, I just moved here. This is Brady.” Kevin sticks his hand out to shake, and you drop Cosmopolitan onto the wire table in front of you to meet his grip. 

His handshake is strong and warm. “Here, New York, or here, this building?” you ask after giving him your name. Brady leans in after Kevin, hand outstretched, so you shake his too. 

“This building. I’ve been in New York a couple-a years now. But we just moved to this building a few weeks ago. We’re down on 4; us and our buddy Jimmy.” You nod and tell him you’re on 4 too, but then his phone rings and it’s Jimmy and he has pizza. They invite you down to eat, but you decline, wanting to soak up as much summer as possible before the weather turns biting and fall’s crisp air rolls into the city. 

“Nice to meet you! We’ll see you around. Don’t be a stranger!” They wave jovially as they continue through the rooftop door. They seem nice enough. Saving your magazine from the condensation sweating down your coffee cup, you pick up where you left off - “How to Find a Normal Dude on a Dating App,” and wonder how they can possibly pass the same garbage off as something new each month.

______

It’s 2 o’ clock in the morning, according to the glance you give at your way-too-bright phone, and you hear the scraping of a key in your lock. It’s scary because your building is generally safe, and you can count on one hand the number of people who have a copy of your key- Stella the building manager, your elderly neighbor Mr. Callahan, and one ex who you ended it with over 6 months ago. The latter is the only one that makes sense since you know Stella leaves by 8pm each evening and Mr. Callahan is in bed shortly after his early-bird dinner at 4pm. 

If it is someone with malicious intent, they’re certainly not trying to sneak in, they’re cursing loudly and wrenching the knob that refuses to turn. The console table next to your front door houses your keyring, equipped with a small can of mace, so you grab it before checking the peephole. 

“Kevin are you fucking kidding me?” You unlock the door and yank it open to Kevin’s sleepy face on the other side. His eyes are droopy and his smile is lopsided. 

“Heyyyy, what are you doing at our house?!” You’ve seen Kevin around often since meeting him and Brady at the pool a few weeks ago. He’s always coming to or from the gym, or grabbing take-out, or the bar- which is probably the case right now. Kevin is good people, so you can’t find yourself getting too mad at the disturbance. 

Pocketing your keys in your robe, you join him in the hallway. “This isn’t your house, you dweeb. It’s mine,” he looks slightly confused before spinning around in the hall at his surroundings. 

“I see the problem now,” you’re not sure that he actually sees much of anything, since he looks a little worse for the wear right now, but he looks down to the floor before smiling back up at you, “your doormat should have tipped me off… we definitely never bought a doormat.”

He’s wobbly at best, so you grab him by the elbow and steer him towards his door. “Your boys home? Who’s going to tuck you in, bud? Make sure you have some water and get to bed okay?” Kevin is having a hard time with his keys, so you take the tangled ring and try a few before giving up and knocking loudly. 

“Hey!! I have something that belongs to you!” Kevin giggles and rests his forehead against the wall next to the door. 

The locks on the other side make a metallic jerking noise before the door is yanked open. You assume it’s the elusive 3rd roommate, Jimmy, since it’s certainly not Brady. Kevin has mentioned him in passing, but your paths haven’t crossed yet in the few weeks since they’ve moved in. 

He sighs and steps out into the hallway to get a look at Kevin. “You’re kidding me. How did you even make it home?”

“He didn’t,” you interject, “well… he made it to the building and then he tried to get into my apartment. Damn near maced him. He scared the crap out of me.” Jimmy seems to notice you for the first time. 

He looks a little sheepish when he responds, “I’m so sorry, he’s harmless really. Just drank a bit too much, I’m sorry he woke you up. We’re still pretty new to the building, he must have been confused.”

You smile, “It’s okay. I live down the hall and we met a few weeks ago. Good for him actually… it’s bear mace, so...” Kevin is still leaning heavy against the wall when you look over at him. 

“Oh, yeah- Brady mentioned you, I think. (y/n)?” Jimmy leans against the door jamb, arms crossed, and smiles- warm, like it’s not an inconvenience for you to be knocking on his door dragging an inebriated friend home to be taken care of. 

“That’s me…” you pause, not really wanting to get into a conversation at this time of night, the siren song of your soft bed and warm covers calling you back, “Do you think you can give him some water? Maybe some aspirin and make sure he gets to bed?”

Jimmy nods slowly as you talk, before the words seem to land and he nods more vigorously. “Oh, yeah of course… I am sorry, though- again. Thanks for getting him home, I got him from here,” he pulls Kevin over the threshold of the apartment, but doesn’t follow him down the hallway yet. 

“I’m Jimmy, by the way- nice to meet you and thanks again for not pepper spraying Kev.” You step one foot backwards, still looking in Jimmy’s direction. 

“Anytime, Jim. Make sure he survives the night.”

Jimmy smiles and salutes, “You got it. See you around, (y/n)” with one last wave, he closes the door and you finally head back to bed, knocking out as soon as you hit the pillow. 

______

Sunday morning you sleep in until 10, you feel like you’ve earned it after your night was interrupted however, Sundays are also for cleaning, so while your coffee is brewing, you pick a playlist on your phone and turn it on, loud enough that you can hear it throughout your apartment, but low enough to not bother Mr.Callahan through the thin walls. 

You’re halfway through cleaning out your fridge, dumping expired items into the garbage pail and making a grocery list for things to replenish, when there’s a sharp knock on your door. It’s not like you’re expecting company, so you glance at the mirror in the bathroom to make sure you’re decent before checking the peephole and opening the door to Jimmy. 

“Good morning,” you’re cheery, invigorated by the 2 cups of coffee you’ve downed so far and the adrenaline from being productive pumping through your veins.  

He has a brown paper bag in his hand, and he smiles, a small blush high on his cheekbones, and you can tell he’s much more reserved than Kevin, who is gregarious, loud, and boisterous each and every time you’ve bumped him since the very first day you met. 

“Uh, hey. Good morning. Hope I’m not bothering you-” he pauses and looks for permission to continue. You didn’t notice last night, half asleep and bleary, but he has the same accent as Kevin and you peg him as a Bostonian as well. 

Shaking your head you assure him, “Not at all. It’s daytime, that’s typically when visitors are expected. Let Kevin know, I don’t think he’s heard.” You smile and he huffs out a small chuckle.

He hands the paper bag over to you. “Just wanted to thank you again for being so cool about last night. Kev had a rough week and he felt like shit this morning when he realized what happened. He’s still sleeping it off, but just a little peace offering.”

The bag has the logo of the cafe down the street, where you frequently grab coffees and breakfast when you’re running late for work. “I just grabbed some bagels and a bacon, egg, and cheese. Heard that’s the way to a New Yorker’s heart…” he stops awkwardly as you unroll the top of the bag, and peer inside, “You’re not a vegan or anything are you… I didn’t even think about that. Hope it’s oka-”

“It’s great, Jimmy. Did you want to come in? There’s a ton of food here and I just made a fresh pot of coffee.” You step to the side and hold the door open, giving him a clear path into the house. 

He smiles again, it lifts up higher on one side of his mouth. “One cup can’t hurt I guess,” he steps in past you, nose leading him to the coffee pot on the counter. 

______

Jimmy stays for a few hours, he’s easy to talk to, quieter than Kevin, but you can immediately tell he’s got a sharp wit and it comes out the longer he sits in your kitchen, hat backwards and refilling his cup whenever it gets low. You start off talking about Kevin over your bagels and coffee, before devolving into how they know each other (distant cousins who grew up in Boston- you were right about the accent), and then he’s happy to talk about back home, opening up a little and telling you all the best spots in town, “I’m a local, so you know they’re good. You can’t go off google, that’s not authentic,” and defending ‘Dunks’ against all other coffee in the known world. 

“An extra extra? What the hell is that?” You’re topping off his coffee, grabbing the sugar canister off the counter and putting it on the table in front of him. 

“Extra cream, extra sugar. Why, what do you call it here?” 

“Fucking disgusting?” You laugh at your own joke, adding milk to your coffee, “Light and sweet I guess? Tell me something else in Boston.” His posture is relaxed as he leans back in his chair and starts talking about the Harvard Library, of all things. 

You’re happy with how Jimmy opens up sitting in your kitchen on a Sunday morning- chore list forgotten with both of your dishes sitting in the sink. You haven’t felt self conscious for one second even though you’re in your pajamas, hair in a sloppy bun on your head as you compare childhoods in the largest cities on the eastern seaboard. 

The conversation has turned to Game of Thrones, and he’s putting up a pretty good argument for you to start binging it, “I swear it’s like a movie every week. The production value is incredible,” when there’s a knock on your door. 

“More people have knocked on this damned door in the last 12 hours than have in the last 3 years. Sorry Jim, one sec- let me see who that is.” It’s equal parts surprising and unsurprising when you see Kevin on the other side of the peephole. The easy choice is to let him in, turn back around, and walk him to the kitchen as he stammers out his apologies, trailing behind you. 

“Jimmy apologizes better. He brought food,” You take your seat across from Jimmy at your small kitchen table again, as Kevin looks visibly shocked to see Jimmy there, one eyebrow making its way up in question. Jimmy immediately turns bright red when he meets Kevin’s eye. 

He makes himself at home, leaning against your counter and opening up the paper bag before selecting a bagel. “Butter in the fridge?” you nod and he helps himself. “I was wondering where you went, bro. I’ve been up for hours and you haven’t answered one text. I was about to head to the gym to look for you.”

Picking his phone up, Jimmy grits his teeth, “Ah, sorry. Time got away from me. I was supposed to be training, but I stopped by to apologize- for your dumb ass by the way- and we got to talking, I didn’t check my phone.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Kevin tells him it’s no big around the bitten off hunk of bagel wedged in his cheek. “You got plans today, (y/n)?” He chews heartily before you shake your head no, and Kevin lists off about five things that he wants to do, clearly no longer plagued by a hangover. Jimmy meets your eye and you shrug. 

“Sure, let me get ready.” You haven’t had a friend in the building before, but it feels a lot like you just made a few.

[mana-projects]

Reasons Why Courtyard Villa Is the Upcoming Trendsetter in the Luxury Realty Market

A surge in interest in high-end properties that cost at least ₹ 2.5 crores has caused rising sales numbers in luxury real estate in India in recent months. The fact that India's luxury realty market is expected to explode in 2023, it's the right time to invest in luxury properties like premium villas, luxury villas, and duplex luxury apartments on Sarjapur Road, Bangalore.

After resolutely recovering from the pandemic's suffocating effects, it has seen extraordinary growth, exceeding market forecasts and attracting the attention of several high-net-worth individuals (HNIs).

According to a survey performed by India Sotheby's International Realty, HNIs intend to purchase luxury real estate in the next two years, indicating a strong bounce back of the luxury real estate industry.

Among the luxury property types, courtyard villas have gained significant attention from HNIs. But why is it so?

Why is the courtyard villa segment gaining attention?

If you are looking for independent villas in Bangalore or new villa projects in Bangalore, Daintree by Mana is one of the upcoming villa projects in Bangalore that you would like to check out. The project offers a blissful living experience to buyers with its uniquely designed luxury villas.

Let's check out the significant features of these courtyard villas in Bangalore.

Community living

Courtyard villas are built in such a way that each cluster of homes faces a central boulevard, offering an amazing sensation of living in an urban community. This creates an ideal environment for resident friendliness and connection. Another advantage of living in a community is that you will share your resources, lowering your carbon footprint. While you enjoy your life with your family and extended family, courtyard villas provide 24-hour protection, allowing you to create memories with complete peace of mind.

With courtyard villas, you may enjoy the perfect blend of heritage and contemporary, as well as world-class amenities that make every second of your stay in this facility pleasurable. Courtyard villas can also be used as retirement residences.

A symbol of prestige

Nothing expresses your personality and status more than your home. Courtyard villas are easily customizable to your tastes and preferences. Being the proud owner of one allows you complete flexibility to design your dream home the way you've always imagined. The garden and seating space can be created to function as an extension of your home. Gardens are usually the easiest to personalize and the most visually pleasing.

A green place is not only pleasing to the eyes; it also helps you breathe cleanly. If you've never worked in a garden before, don't worry; there are plenty of gardening tips for beginners accessible. Gardening can also be a relaxing activity.

High level of privacy

Today, privacy has become a top issue and priority. After spending the majority of their days with the rest of the world, families like to spend some time alone with each other. Courtyard villas make this possible. Unlike apartments, a villa has a well-defined property that affords unparalleled solitude and tranquility.

At the end of the day, one would want to unwind in a home away from all the hustle and bustle. Your family will be able to bond without distractions and grow closer to one another. Step into your courtyard cottage and allow yourself to be quiet in your own little hideaway.

Favorable location

Courtyard villas are typically located in the city's lush green districts, which are prime locations for an ideal real estate investment. This way, you may listen to nature without being interrupted by jarring honks or irritating noises from building sites.

Mana Daintree, for example, is located in the booming neighborhood of Sarjapur, which offers excellent connections and a thriving social infrastructure. Sarjapur is quickly becoming a major commercial area in Bangalore. By investing in Sarjapur, you will be near all important amenities such as hospitals, schools, and markets. It is one of the unique luxury villas in Bangalore built on a courtyard concept that will bring you closer to nature and provide an unforgettable living experience.

High appreciation value

Every house purchased is more than just a place to live; it is also an asset. You buy a house with the intention of profiting from it. As a result, you must examine the property's future growth potential as well as its existing valuation. When it comes to real estate, location is the most significant factor.

The facilities accessible in the surrounding neighborhood, as well as the accessibility of the area, are two significant criteria that determine the value of your home. Courtyard villas generate significant returns because they are built in rapidly appreciating areas of the city. Unlike apartments, you will own the entire plot, making it the finest long-term investment.

The bottom line

Living in luxury villas is always a status of great prestige. It shows the accomplishment you have achieved in life. So if you are looking for such premium luxury property in Bangalore, with world-class amenities, lush green surroundings, and a superior lifestyle, then Daintree by Mana

[divergent-one-1984]

Organized Crime Ring in Astoria, NY, in a neighborhood under the jurisdiction of 114th PRECINCT and in apartment buildings managed by CENTRAL ASTORIA, LLC. I have been the victim of TARGETED COMMUNITY HARASSMENT SINCE SUMMER 2016 because of my race and gender, I am an African American woman (because of a rumor / gossip mill started by staff at NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION while I was employed there from 2014 to 2016 I was made the victim of targeted psychological harassment). Due to the illegal access and leaking of private, personal, confidential information by wiretapping / cloning / hacking of personal devices and illegal surveillance in my residence. This includes leaking of confidential medical information (HPV, strains that can cause cervical cancer and an Abortion) - STREET THEATER NOISE & COLOR HARASSMENT (POLICE SIRENS LOW SOUND, RED, WHITE, BLUE) POST 1/2

In addition to the HATE CRIME element to the ongoing stalking and harassment there is a Religious Zealotry / Nuttery / Judgmental / Fundamentalism / Extremism element to my daily harassment as I am being harassed by mostly Muslim and Latino people. Based on facts / my observation, I would estimate that 9 out of 10 people harassing me on a daily basis are Muslim or Latino, with Muslims ranking number 1, Muslims who appear to be from Middle Eastern / Arab countries and countries on the Asian continent. All of the tenants in my apartment building are involved in my daily harassment, especially the 3 apartments surrounding my apartment. 2 of the apartments are occupied by Muslim tenants and the 3rd apartment is occupied by Latino tenants. Out of the 9 apartments in my apartment building. 2 of the tenants, including myself are African American, the remaining 7 apartments are occupied by Latino and Muslim tenants, with the Muslims being in the majority.

IMPORTANT UPDATE REGARDING CHANGE OF TENANCY IN APT BLDG (NEW TENANT(S) AS OF FEBRUARY 1, 2023):

1 OF THE FAMILIES IN THE APT BLDG MOVED OUT TUESDAY, JANUARY 31, 2023. I BELIEVE THESE TENANTS WERE AFRO-LATINO OR BLACK FOLK OF CARRIBBEAN DESCENT (I HAVE KNOWN THEM SINCE I WAS YOUNG, PROBABLY LATE TEENS EARLY TWENTIES) IN MY MIND I WAS THINKING I BET THE NEXT TENANTS TO MOVE INTO THEIR APT IS EITHER MUSLIM OR LATINO, MOST LIKELY MUSLIM

As usual I am minding my business exiting my apartment to take out trash and recyclables.

Since there is ILLEGAL SURVEILLANCE DIRECTED AT & INSIDE MY APARTMENT, the STALKERS / ABUSERS / HARASSERS / DOMESTIC TERRORISTS set up STREET THEATER by placing a items in the apartment building common areas outside the apartment building and my walking path to the garbage disposal area.

This placing of items to PSYCHOLOGICALLY HARASS ME, WILL OFTEN TIMES BE ACCOMPANIED WITH NOISE HARASSMENT, such as a barking dog, power / drilling tools / police sirens / revving of vehicle engines / vehicles driving by with excessively loud mufflers or music blasting, etc.

The video attached to this Post has a few things going on. While I was exiting apartment building at about .06 seconds you will see a clothing tag on the floor, upon quick look it is appears to have the very recognizable, Tommy Hilfiger logo on it. I am harassed by references to Tommy Hilfiger alot, for a couple of reasons, by the colors, red, white, and blue are colors used to harass me for various reasons per a tactic called COLOR HARASSMENT. There is also a lot of word / letter association, if you will, in these psychological harassment tactics. It seems like they reference Tommy Hilfiger repetitively because of the first initials of each name (TH), with "T" referencing me, because my first name starts with a "T" and "H" references HPV, of which I have been diagnosed with in 2008, something I believe is a big reason for why I was made a target of GROUP STALKING and HARASSMENT. Tommy Hilfiger name and logo have been repetitively presented to me over the years as part of my harassment campaign.

At about .20 seconds, the next item strategically placed in the courtyard by the garbage disposal area is a child's blue bike, there is an entire bike rack around the corner and no reason to put a bike where it is unless you are placing it there for someone to see it.

It's a random, awkward place for the bike to be i the first place. If its sitting there I assume its a tenants', so logic and common sense tells me first, it should be in the bike rack, if there is no room for it there then it should be in front / near the entrance of the building the tenant lives in if they don't want to place it in their apartment for whatever reason.

Pictures below are of the bike rack around the corner, which is right outside my bedroom window. I actually think I see the actual bike in the lower right hand of these photos. It looks like the same size and color as the one by the garbage disposal area.

Each building has enough space in front of it to place it near so that it would not be blocking the entrance. If it's being disposed of it should be inside the structure I am going to where the garbage is disposed of or in the structure on the otherside where typically large items such as household furniture or applicances are placed for disposal.

At about .34 seconds you will see Whole Foods bags (see previous post regarding Whole Foods and psychological references) in trash can right next to the closest empty one, the one I would put my garbage in because the previous ones from the entrance as you walk into the structure are full. Also, these bags should actually be in a recycling bin instead of a trash bin.

On my walk back to my apartment at I took a close up of the clothing tag on the floor to ensure it was Tommy Hilfiger and could not be disputed on the video. From about 1.24 through 1.33 you can clearly see this is a clothing tag for Tommy Hilfiger.

On a side night, regarding the ongoing psychological / subliminal referencing of me looking like a man / transgender. It is constantly presented that I look like various men from my personal life and other strangers and men in the public space, living or dead. 1 of the ones from my actual personal life is my ex-fiance WILFRED SHAWN KIRKALDY, which is probably one of the more ridiculous ones, another look-a-like / doppelhpganger, which is a psychological tactic used in this harassment, is my father, who I have some attributes of but overall I think I look mostly like my mother, and most people would say that / agree with that over me looking like my father. If you look at pictures of my mother when she was younger and line them up with me at the same age, no one would say I look like my dad, they would say I look like the spitting image of my mom, it has also been stated by a relative that saw me as a young adult looked like a young Lee, my maternal grandmother.

My full sister and I both look more like our mother, she has the stronger gene pool in this combination, whereas my fathers gene pool was more dominant with his other baby mother the woman he had an affair with over years; my half siblings look more like my father; in that combination, his genes were dominant. So that is constantly put out there. In all the years, no one has ever said I look like my father, its always you look like your mom, both my sister and I.

Again, if this was based in actual fact and not some narrative these people are trying to spin, I am sure out of all the years of my life and my dads short life, someone would have said we looked alike, never happened. No family member or stranger. Overall I look like my mom. I have small attributes of my father if you take out a piece but overall facial structure is my mom. In fact, often times as I got older, if we were out together because my father looked so young (he had me fairly young, and I was always tall for my age, if we were out together people would not immediately think I was his daughter. If we looked as much a like as this false narrative they are attempting to drill in my head, I would think people would pick up on that immediately and like I said within the family and friend circle that would have been stated a long time ago, it never was because I look like more like my mom overall, and so does my sister, her genes are more dominant. My dads genes appeared to have been more dominant with his other baby mother, because those 2 (fraternal twins) look more like our father than they look like their mother. The half sibling, who is a female actually looks more like my father than I do, also her skin hue is lighter, more like my father who was light-skinned; they even both wear glasses. I don' t know if they have the same affliction but just saying. I look mostly like my mom, am brown / dark skin and don't wear glasses.

I am not saying half sister looks like a man / transgender, just saying she looks more like our father than I do. We all have DNA of our mothers and fathers in us that give us everything including our looks, facial structure, physical appearance, sometimes children resemble the parent of the opposite sex without necessarily looking like that parents gender, it is what it is, its basic biology, but most of the morons involved in ORGANIZED STALKING and PSYCHOLOGICAL HARASSMENT and ABUSE don't understand basic science.

So back to the harassment, specifically the blue bike. My father also happened to be an avid bike rider, he was into health and exercise in general. Growing up he had weights and a weight bench in our apartment and eventually a boxing bag. After my parents divorced and he lived on his own he eventually had a treadmill in his apt and owned a bike.

The blue bike is a reference to him; multiple references being I look like him (a male / transgender), he died of cancer (Multiple Myeloma) and was sick for many years before he died. I have HPV, which could lead to cervical cancer and eventual death without preventative healthcare.

The bike I think is sitting there with break stands down which is significant for many reasons.

Because of my fathers illness there was a tendency for bone fractures (Multiple Myeloma is a cancer of the blood / bone marrow), he could not exercise as vigorously as he could before for fear of injury so he did not lift as heavy weights and used the treadmill more often. Also, instead of riding his bike outdoors he got some contraption that can allow you to turn a regular bike into a stationary one.

The color harassment regarding the blue is also a reference to my dad. One of my cousins and I was having a conversation one day on my cellphone (back in the early days of my HARASSMENT, my phone was definitely being tapped at this point) where she made a statement about my father looking like a character on the show "The Game" The character's name is "Blue". This color and name is also used as a psychological / subliminal reference to me looking like a man / transgender.

[chocolateheart]

Door number 12

Title: Door Number 12

Word count: 7937 (I know, I'm sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A noisy neighbour is bringing you a lot of emotions. What if this bubbling tension and frustration will finally find their way out?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (please, wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, handjob, pinning to the wall, clothes tearing, biting, scratching, a lot of kissing, strong eye contact, sex noises, tension, some swearing, noisy neighbour, arguing, stealing food, property damage, I don't know, porn?

Bingo Square Filled: Neighbour AU for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: Yes, another porn. Please, don't judge me, I couldn't help it. I won't say much, that fic just sorta happened. I hope you'll like it! Enjoy babes!

A/N: As always huge huge huge THANK YOU to my dear beta, angel and Queen @winchest09 for giving this piece a look. Love you Tabbs <3 Still, mistakes are mine!

A/N: The gorgeous divider designed by incredibly talented @talesmaniac89 <3

Throwing your bag on the counter along with your keys, a deep sigh left your chest. You numbly looked around your apartment as you began to take off your jewellery. Why did this place always look like a pigsty every time you got back home? Your necklace and bracelet joined your bag when you tossed them to one side as a yawn escaped you.

This day was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe your work wasn’t that demanding but sometimes it was just tiring to the point where you wanted to cry. After shrugging your jean jacket off, your feet took you to the couch and you just collapsed down on it with a pained grunt. Your body was stiff and aching, your head was pounding from pain and as soon as you felt a pillow under it, your will to stay awake had started to fade. You knew you shouldn’t take a nap now as there was still so much left to do today, but for god's sake, it was Friday evening and you had been working for the past 5 days at top speed. An hour of rest was something you definitely deserved.

Without standing up, you lifted your hips to take off your jeans and wrapped yourself in the blanket you always kept on the couch. Relaxing your body with a deep breath, you closed your eyes, already halfway to dreamland. But as soon as you felt yourself drifting completely, a loud sound of guitar suddenly sounded in your ears, making your eyes snap open.

No, not again!

Fisting the pillow, you felt the anger growing as you knew exactly where the loud rock music was coming from; recognising the band as AC/DC. When the volume increased, you hid your head underneath the pillow, desperate to cut off your aching skull from the noise. But it didn’t work, the sound still bleeding through the cushion. It didn’t take you a minute to shoot up on straight legs and pull on your sweats while marching towards the front door.

Mumbling inappropriate words, you entered the staircase for your building and immediately went down; hearing the power of the music increasing with every step you took. You found yourself on a floor below, with your jaw and hands clenched, eyes glued to door number 12 as you approached it. Once you stood in front of it, you lifted one of your fists and hit the hard on the wood a few times, ready to murder the person on the other side. Of course he made you wait till the song ended, causing you to repeat the punching a couple of times.

When the door finally opened, you were fuming with anger, eyes shooting lightnings towards the tall man on the opposite side of the doorstep.

"I swear to god, Winchester," you hissed through gritted teeth, a loud melody almost muffling your words. "If you won't turn that down, I will physically harm you." Your threatening pulled a laugh from him which only acted as another oil drop to the fire.

"Sweetheart you can't do anything to me," he said, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed on this broad chest. "Besides, I don't understand what your problem is." Dean shrugged as if nothing had happened, making your brows shoot up.

"You don't understand?! This music is driving me crazy!" You took a deep breath and while not breaking the strong eye contact you had with him, you started to enlighten him on what exactly was wrong. "I’ve had a terrible day, no, week actually. Everything hurts, my head is pounding and this music is shaking my walls which in turn, is not letting me sleep. So if you could be so nice and turn that off because I swear on what's holy, if I lose my goddamn mind, your name will be the first one I'm gonna mention once they ask me how I ended up in mental hospital." Words just slipped out of you in one unbreakable line and you took shuddering breath after, composing yourself.

However, the smug smirk didn’t leave your neighbour's face; he didn’t give a damn about your monologue. After you finished, he only put a hand on your shoulder and delivered his response.

"It's a Friday evening and we live in a free country. There’s no rule saying I can't listen to loud music, unless it's lights out. What's more, you're the only one who can't stand this, I don't see anyone else coming here to complain, so maybe the problem lies in you, not in me," he simply said, as he flashed you a fake, sarcastic smile and closed the door. But not before saying, "have a nice evening."

You looked up to the ceiling, asking for patience but the frustration and anger were huge. You growled, kicked Winchester's door with your socked foot and cursed, feeling pain going from your toes to the tibial bone.

On your way back to your apartment, you were mumbling out every possible, offensive name that came to your mind when you thought about that green eyed man. Your relationship had been heated ever since he moved into the building. He made your blood boil. Loud music, meetings with his friends, watching movies on full volume on his surround speakers after dark in the middle of the week, noisily cooking at midnight; even his one night stands apparently had an unfulfilled opera career.

You were having a battle with Dean, on average, twice a week. Knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand his behavior, you asked others for help, but Dean’s charm was way bigger of an opponent than you had expected. He could just use a sweet smile, say a few, flirty words with this deep voice and Ann from the end of the hall would walk on wobbly legs with stupid smile on her face for the next four days.

You couldn’t really blame her, the man was ridiculously attractive but you were looking past it. Dean was an annoying asshole and the only reason you had not yet clawed out his eyes was the fact that visiting the jail wasn’t exactly a wooing thought.

Shutting your door behind you, you leaned against it and ‘Sweet Child O’ mine’ came on. You growled once again, hit your wooden barricade with your head and looked down, trying to find calmness in your floor. Once you stopped radiating fury, knowing that the person below won't let you rest for at least two more hours, you chose the second drawer in your kitchen, searching for painkillers. If you were being made to stay up, you were gonna be productive. Swallowing two aspirin, you decided to clean the place so you could focus on college work tomorrow.

If only you could actually focus on college work.

After waking up at 8 am the next day, you opened the window on your way to the kitchen, craving coffee. It wasn’t normal for you to get up at this hour on the weekend but your finals were coming and you had way more work than you expected.

Thankfully, the weather outside was pleasant; the sun was already shining, creating morning shadows and the soft wind streamed inside your apartment, tickling your ankles as you sat at the table, eating breakfast. The smell of spring made you smile, always bringing back good memories. After the meal, you didn’t bother to change your pajamas for the actual clothes and you just took the laptop to start working on your college sheets. You were sitting with one of your legs bent, heel leaning on the chair, messy bun on your head, sipping on the second coffee while listening to the birds singing happily outside. Words were flooding out of you, making you feel certain that it wouldn’t take you long to be done with your essays. But that blissful moment was cut short when a loud rumble of a car’s engine resonated under your building, causing you to jerk in your chair and almost spill your drink.

Recognizing it straight away, you looked up, trying your best to not get angry again but as the sound of his loud engine revving l continued, you smacked the table with your palm and stood up. As you leaned on your window sill and gazed out, you spotted black, slick Chevrolet with the driver's door, trunk and hood open. Tools were scattered around the vehicle, a jean clothed leg was sticking out from the inside and you greeted your teeth, knowing who that was.

“Hey!” you yelled out, not caring if probably half of the residents could hear you. “I’m trying to study here!”

Dean peeked out and up at you, smiled and got out of the car, leaning his elbow on the hood in a nonchalant way.

“Good morning to you too,” he said and flashed you the oh-so-charming smile.

“It would be good if you didn’t interrupt it with your loud junker,” you spat back, leaning on the window frame and smiled when his face fell; he hated it when someone insulted his Baby, and you were very much aware of that. “Now, could you please lower your generic volume because I have a lot to do and you’re the last thing I want to deal with today.”

“Nobody tells you to. I’m minding my business, you go mind yours, I ain’t stopping you.” He gestured towards you with his grease covered hand.

“No, but your car is making noise that shakes all the dishes in my cabinet.”

He just shrugged and you narrowed your eyes, seeing that he didn’t care about whatever your problem was. “Then I suggest closing the window.”

After saying that, he dived inside the vehicle and seconds later you heard the strong twang of a guitar. Again. This man was very successful in making you hate rock music. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, stopping yourself from throwing a flowerpot at him; only because it was a very nice pot and you were emotionally attached to it.

“I need fresh air! I’m not gonna close the window! Turn that off!” you screamed, but he only frowned and pointed to his ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t hear you!” You could see the smile dancing on his lips and you really wanted to break something on his head. “The music is too loud!”

Clenching your jaw you gave up. Another defeat, but it wasn’t the war you lost; it was just a battle and he was yet to feel your comeback. Showing him your middle finger, you closed the window and went to the bathroom, not being able to hear the soft chuckle that left him.

Maybe to an outsider, Dean’s behavior wasn’t such a big deal, but the longer he acted like that, the more annoying and tiring it was becoming. You couldn’t focus on basic activities because he was giving you a headache in various ways and for some reason, you couldn’t just talk it through with him. Every attempt at trying to get to an understanding with him, ended up with a fight.

Winchester was just a pain in the ass.

Thankfully, he vanished before noon; his car was gone and there was a blissful silence that you made the most of, and finished the majority of what you had to do.

Surrounded by papers and books, you were sitting down on your fluffy carpet, leaning back on your couch, typing away on your laptop. Glancing at your clock again, you frowned. It’s been almost 85 minutes since you ordered pizza; your stomach was rumbling, unhappy with the fact of still being empty. Finding your phone, you dialed the pizza parlor’s number once again. Standing up, you stretched your muscles and looked outside, watching the sunset sky as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally, the lady’s voice spoke to you down the line, asking you how she could help.

“Hi, I made an order from you and I still haven’t received it? It’s been over an hour,” you explained politely, scratching the back of your head.

You didn’t like situations like that; delay was understandable, but it had been way too long. However, you hated to call someone out, you never wanted to make someone’s job harder than it already was. Giving your address to the lady so she could check where your food was, you spotted the black vehicle under the building and your brows shot up. He was home and it was still quiet; it wasn’t normal.

“Miss, the system says your order was delivered and we have a confirmation of receipt.” You frowned hearing her words as what she said was impossible.

“Are you sure? There was no delivery here.”

“Yes, I’m positive. It says someone picked up the order twenty minutes ago.” Pinching your nose, you took a deep breath.

“Could you check the address precisely, please? Maybe your driver made a mistake?” you suggested being already sure someone else got your food.

“Rosenhouse Street, building 4, apartment 12,” she read and the last number made you flinch.

“Apartment 20,” you corrected her, but she denied.

“No Miss, the order was picked up by apartment 12.” And just like that the level of your anger reached three digits in a second.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you murmured and disconnected the call without a goodbye, already storming halfway across your place, getting ready to leave.

Slamming the door, you took a very well known path downstairs and you banged on number 12 as soon as you stood in front of it. Feeling the urge to punch the person who was supposed to open, you inhaled deeply, clenching your teeth. Just... keep it cool, Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you growled the second Dean came into your view in his domestic clothes, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Whoa, what?” he tilted his head with an uncomprehending look.

“Listen,” you pointed a finger at him. “Loud noises, annoying car, your mean behavior, fine, okay. Screw it. But stealing food? That is childish. Can you go any lower?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “What food?”

“My pizza,” you muttered through your teeth.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead, acting like he just now understood. “Yeah, pizza was great.”

“You stole it!” you exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

“No I didn’t,” Dean stated, giving you a small, I-know-better smile.

“Yes, you did. I ordered it and you just pocketed it!” You really wanted to stamp your foot like a little girl to tick your fury.

"No sweetheart, I didn’t," he said, crossing his arms and straightening his back so he could tower over you, making you look up. "The guy came in with pizza, said he's supposed to bring it here, so I paid for it and ate it."

"Oh! Because it's normal to pay for the food you didn’t order and keep it to yourself. And stop calling me sweetheart!" You puffed out irritated, making him smirk.

"You're cute when you're angry." Your face fell and you felt your palm itching. What would he do if you slapped him?

"Dean," you warned him but he chuckled.

"No, seriously." He reached to your forehead, wanting to brush it with his finger. "You have this cute, little wrinkle in the middle-"

"Don't touch me." You smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger straight into his face. "One more action like this and you're gonna regret it," you growled out and walked away.

"So it's threatening now, huh?!" he called after you, coming out to stand in the hall.

Before you stepped on the stairs, you turned around with such a force, that your hair flipped over one of your shoulders and you showed him your middle finger. Hearing his low laugh bouncing on the wall, you scoffed annoyed as you stomped loudly going back upstairs. You swore that if you were supposed to become a murderer one day, that this man was gonna be victim number one. This whole 'lets annoy her' process would be great fuel for you to slice that slender throat of his.

Shutting the door again, you walked into the kitchen, dived in the fridge and decided to stuff yourself with pancakes. Screw Dean and his pizza, you were not going to give him satisfaction with ordering anything else tonight.

“So, he’s a confident man,��� Jo stated after you told her about Winchester’s behavior.

You came to Harvelle's to grab something for Sunday dinner; they had the most delicious menu in the whole town and no one could change your mind. You were sitting with a blonde girl at the table, outside their restaurant, sipping on some light drinks Ellen had prepared for the two of you. Ash was already working on your meal in the kitchen while Jo was taking her break so she could sit with you and listen about your neighbour under the floor. It took you way longer to describe everything and you felt kind of bad for that. You weren’t the type who whined about such things and forced friends to hear about your bullshit, but now you were desperate to get it all off your chest.

“Confident asshole,” you corrected her, “I just wish he could finally get his ass kicked, you know? I can’t live with this man! He’s an arrogant, offensive, little, annoying dickhead!” you said, crossing your arms on your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you looked up at Jo. She was watching you, clearly trying not to smile; her lips were twitching and small dimples had already appeared. You knew her long enough to know that she was all ready to tease you about this whole situation.

“What?” you barked at her and she lifted her hands in defense.

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just, your relationship with him seems to have been… rough since the very beginning.”

“It is! I really wanna punch him!” Jo lifted her brows, a smile breaking on her face.

“Just punch him?” The suggestion was shining in her eyes and your shoulders fell down at the subtext.

“Jo!” she started giggling when she heard your resigned tone. “Just because I’m having a heated exchange with a hot guy doesn’t mean that I wanna fuck him!”

“Oh, so you think he’s hot?” she asked innocently, taking a sip from her glass.

“Yes, but he’s an idiot and I would never let him in my panties, come on,” you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. The last thing you would ever do was having sex with this man.

“Sure.”

And you knew Jo didn’t believe you. To be honest, if you thought about it really, really hard, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself…

The door opened and Ash came out with a smile, your food packed in a thermal box.

“There you go, girl. We do not accept any complaints,” he said, winking at you and you chuckled, taking the meal from him.

“Thanks, Ash.” He saluted you and vanished as quickly as he appeared. You glanced at your phone laying on the table and sighed seeing the time. “Okay babe, I’m gonna go. School’s calling and I bothered you enough anyway.”

“Oh stop it, you’re not bothering me, don’t be stupid,” she said smiling, and hugged you tight. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure thing.” You winked and walked backwards, watching her disappear inside the RoadHouse.

Smiling to yourself, you turned around and crossed the street. At first your thoughts were filled with Jo who could always put you in a good mood but then they gradually transitioned into someone else.

You didn’t know if it was your overworked system or what Jo had teased you about that caused Dean to stick inside your mind, but you wanted to scream; it was like he had nested in there. Not only was he disturbing your living space, but he was now invading your mental space as well. What’s more, it wasn’t exactly hard to not think about him in a nasty way, and you hated it. The truth was that he was attractive from his fluffy hair to his toes, and more than once you had caught yourself daydreaming about his hands and mouth on you.

You couldn’t help it. The way he looked was not fair and Jo made you realise that if not for his attitude, you would have slept with him a long time ago. Thankfully, in the moments you felt weakness for him, he was doing something that pissed you off to the point where you wanted to bite his head off.

You really wanted to get even with him, you had to bounce the ball. The need to bite back was so big that you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the paint store. The bulb in your head flickered on and a devil smile angled your lips. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was childish, maybe it was crossing the line, but you had suffered enough thanks to this jerk.

Buying one can of pink chalk paint, you were muting your common sense that was currently shouting at you. As the saying goes - you only live once. He wanted a fight? You were going to fight. He started to play a strong hand? You were going to do the same. He thought playing with you like that was fun? Well, you were gonna have some fun too. Besides, he wouldn’t realise immediately that the paint would easily wash off, but seeing him panic thinking that his car had been defaced was revenge enough.

With a few last strokes of a paintbrush, you were finished. Straightening your back, you looked down at your work and smiled, satisfied with pink flowers you had drawn on the black surface. They were a nice contrast and you really liked the shape. In all honesty, it kinda burned you to paint this four wheeled beauty, but it wasn’t your fault her owner was a douchebag who deserved a lesson.

The impala was parked in her usual spot, next to the building that was mostly asleep. There were no cameras and due to the late hour, the chance of someone spotting you was small. Besides, you were just a hooded figure, no one would recognise you anyway even with the dim light from a lonely lantern. It was risky, but you were too far gone in your revenge to care. It had been done and you wished you could see Dean’s face in the morning.

Gathering your things you looked around, checking to see if there was anyone you should avoid and you got back to your apartment. After closing the door, you took off your clothes, staying only in leggings and a t-shirt, and decided to make some tea. You had this weird energy bubbling inside of you and it would be a waste to not use it on college papers. Getting comfortable on your couch you started going through materials for one of your projects.

Not expecting any visitors, you jumped slightly while hearing a rapid knocking on your door an hour later. You frowned and stood up, finishing your tea on your way to the entry. What you saw on the other side almost made you smile like an idiot. Dean was boring into you with his eyes; if looks could kill, you would surely be a beautiful corpse by now. His chest was rising and falling heavily, jaw clenched to the point his cheek was twitching and you could see the slight blush coloring on his face. He was wearing his leather jacket but was also in sweats so you assumed he was about to make a quick grocery run or something.

“What the hell?!” he growled at you before you could say a word. Ohhh, he was angry.

“What?” You shrugged innocently, ignoring the weird chill that ran down your spine after hearing the vibrations of his tone.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to not shout out. “I wanted to go get some beer and burgers, but guess what. Someone screwed up my car. And you know what? I think it was you.”

He pointed a finger at you, holding keys in his hand. You laughed and leaned on your doorframe, ready to confront him. Satisfaction already tickled your insides, but there was one thing that you had to admit - he was hot when he was angry.

“You really think that I have nothing better to do than mess up your car?” you asked, amused by his flaring nostrils.

"Don't you fucking dare play with me like that," he said firmly, not wanting to yell. "Do you know it's property damage? You broke a law and I can easily get you in trouble."

He was fuming with anger and you were sure that if it was possible, there would be smoke coming out of his ears. You smiled and stood your ground, finding it adorable how he thought he had anything useful against you.

"You have nothing on me. No proof that I was the one who defaced your car," you started, taking two steps to stand inches away from him. "Call the cops and I'm gonna tell them all about the nuisance, the stealing, manipulation and manifestations of aggression all coming from you.”

You stared straight into his eyes, a smart smile not leaving you even for a second; feeling confident in your words. Maybe he had a point, but you weren’t empty handed. You could get punished for what you did and so could he.

“What is your problem, Y/N?!” he asked, pinching his nose, clearly irritated with you. “You keep whining, making problems out of nothing and now painting my damn car?”

“You’re not letting me live in peace!” you raised your voice. “Your loud music, loud car, loud tv, loud you in general! I can’t sleep, I can’t study, I can’t do anything because you’re always there to disturb me!”

“Then leave!” he suggested, raising his tone as well. You were taken aback; lifting your brows you blinked a few times. Was he joking?

“Leave?! Are you kidding me now?! This is my home and just a friendly reminder, I was in here first so maybe you should back off!”

“But you’re the only one having a problem with me!” he yelled, spreading his arms, highlighting the obviousness of his argument.

“Because you’re a manipulative ass! You use your charm, this fucking smile, your shining eyes, and nice language, and the whole building is yours! Even Ian from the 4th floor and he doesn't even like people!”

“Ian is a cool guy!”

“Good!”

You took a breath and opened your mouth to say something more but no words came out. Again, you were convinced that there was no way to come to an agreement with this guy. Further arguments were pointless. Looking at him you shook your head and brushed your hair to the back. The soft smile and look you gave him next, made him frown a little.

“You know what? Fuck you,” you said simply and went to close the door, but his retort didn’t let you.

“You wish.”

Freezing, you locked your eyes with his and in a split second, something shifted in the air. The atmosphere got thick and the tension you had been building for months, now came into play, kinda taking you both by surprise. Dean felt it too, you could see his expression changing. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was buzzing between you. A part of you wanted to explain it, to show him that you already knew it was sexual tension saying ‘hi’, but as soon as you realised that, you swallowed and forced your rational mask back on.

Shaking off the urge to take steps towards him, you scoffed and sending him one last look, you shut the door without saying anything. Taking two deep breaths, you leaned your forehead on the wooden barricade and closed your eyes.

There was no way in hell you would give in and break. He had everyone else in his fist, but not you. The only person that didn’t fall under his spell, the only one that didn’t let your craving inside take better of you. Dean was still your enemy and a pain in the ass; it was a matter of honour and dignity to stay away.

However, soft knocking made your eyes snap open. No. Darting your head from the door you looked at it, knowing who was behind it but that didn’t even register when you pulled on the door-handle. Dean was supporting his body on his arms that he had placed on both sides of your door, blocking the way. He was looking at you intensely, his breathing quicker than moments ago.

You could see the exact second he made a decision. You knew he was going to do something he shouldn’t and yet, you let him close the gap between you and crush his mouth to yours, cupping your cheeks at the same time. The force he hit you with made you take steps backwards, encouraging him to come in and turn you around so you could unconsciously close the door. His grip was firm, long fingers digging in your neck as hot lips forced yours apart. But your stubbornness caused you to push him away, breaking the connection.

The look you exchanged was a mix of emotions; hate, passion, frustration, lust, confusion, hesitation. This was something completely new for you; needing him was unfamiliar, strange, but at the same time stronger than anything you had felt before when it came to Dean. There was this quiet voice telling you that it was already too late; you tasted it and you wanted it, obviously. The other voice was louder, trying to make you aware of how messed up it's gonna be after, but somehow you didn’t want to listen. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

Saying that, you approached Dean and gripping him by the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and deep, all teeth and tongues. He inhaled through his nose, bending down when your nails clawed at his skin. Grabbing you by the waist, he used a little pressure so you walked backwards. You didn’t expect to be pushed against the wall and a surprised gasp escaped you when your back hit it. Looking up at Dean, you noticed how his hungry eyes flickered over your figure and a cocky smirk formed on his face. You mirrored his expression and lifted your chin, so you could suck in his lower lip, biting on it softly. His response was immediate and fierce; he pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the wall completely, kissing you even deeper than before. The heat flooded you, making your cheeks burn and a sweat break.

You moaned and that seemed to spur him on because his hands started travelling all over your body. Doing the same, you aimed for his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders so it could land on the floor. The thought of finally discovering what was under his clothes took over your brain and you started to pull on his t-shirt, hazed and eager. But Dean grabbed your wrist and pinned it next to your head, not letting you undress him. You twisted and tugged, trying to break free, but he slid his fingers between yours and you instinctively clenched your palm.

“Don’t fight,” he breathed out, leaving your lips as he dropped to your neck, letting you take a much needed breath.

Leaning your head back you gave him the access to your throat where he licked and sucked, french-kissing your flesh. Your knees buckled a little when his hot lips closed on your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine as his stubble prickled you. Feeling his second hand sneaking under your shirt, you held your breath and jerked on the skin to skin contact. He wasn’t delicate; his long fingers were squeezing and digging, a firm touch making it all the more intense. Using your free hand you fisted his hair, pulling on it. Dean purred, nibbling on your flesh, making your eyes roll. It was like playing tennis, back and forth; you had an answer to each other's movements.

The hunger inside you was growing fast; you were getting more and more impatient and being caged by Dean only made you feel limited. So, naturally, you rebelled, trying to take control; with Dean it was always a competition. But your attempt only caused him to press his body more, his knee coming between your legs, making it harder for you to move. The thin material of your leggings was a weak protection to his touch and you whined when your sensitive area met his thigh. Fidgeting even more, you made him chuckle.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

Growling, you turned your head and sunk your teeth into his neck, tasting sweet and salty. Dean hissed and backed away, looking down at you with a surprise in his eyes, brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and angled yourself to speak against his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t like a fight, Winchester.”

The suggestion was clear and he seemed to understand. Your relationship was already a ticking bomb so why not have a little fun?

The challenging look you gave him was a last jolt and his mode switched. Before you could do anything, he kissed you firmly, letting go of you just to grab on the front of your shirt. Pulling with two hands Dean ripped the fabric in half, revealing your torso, making you smile a devil’s smile. He shook his head in disbelief that you were actually going along with it and grinning, he attacked your jaw. Scraping it with his teeth first, then kissing and going down passed your neck, to your collarbone. Bending his knees so he could reach lower and lower, he proceeded to shrug the destroyed clothing off you and focus on your breasts. Placing sloppy kisses on the curves, Dean moved his hands on your back and unclasped your bra. As soon as it was gone, he sucked in one of your nipples, causing you to arch your chest. Pulling his hair, you grabbed the back of his head, letting him know you enjoyed his work.

Every time his lips touched you, they left burning spots and you could feel yourself getting wetter. Not holding back anymore, you started to roll your hips, seeking the friction his leg could give you. Still playing with your boobs, he caught your hips and added the power to your moves, dragging a moan from you. Glancing down, you spotted the bulge in his sweatpants and realised he was still wearing too much clothes.

“Take that fucking shirt off,” you panted out, grabbing on the piece of clothing on his back.

This time he allowed you to do what you needed, lifting his arms to make your task easier and the second his chest was bare, you used your nails to leave red lines, making him grimace from pain before he kissed you. Caressing his newly exposed body, you felt firm muscles of his strong arms flexing. He wasn’t a gym type of guy, he was soft in some places but firm and strong in general, and that turned you on to the point your stomach flipped.

Suddenly, he pushed on your hips until your butt touched the wall behind you and pulled away from you, straightening himself. You looked at each other, panting and flinching in anticipation. Keeping the eye contact, Dean cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips and slowly slid his hands down your body. You swallowed hard when he hooked his fingers behind your waistband and pulled your leggings down, crouching in front of you.

With a thumping heart you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes watching you as he kissed your knee, your thigh, your inner thigh; his hands travelling up your legs, leaving goosebumps. You shivered when his hot breath hit your still clothed core. He placed a kiss on your damp panties, making your pussy clench and stopped. Leaning his forehead on your lower stomach, he tried to remain self-control, breathing strongly to calm himself down... and he failed. This whole situation was too much and he had wanted it for way too long to stop now.

Shooting up, he claimed your lips, driving his fingers inside your briefs at the same time. His digits went through your folds, gathering slick and found your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Yeah? Right here?” he whispered and you sucked the air in through your mouth when he drew a circle, pressing harshly on your little nub.

Feeling him smiling, you clung to his neck, keeping him close when he started to make circles on your button. Moaning laughs escaped you, mixed with short breaths as you felt fire filling your veins, tickling sparks running from your clit to every nook of your system. For a moment you lost yourself in the feeling, but your brain woke up when he nudged you, rubbing his dick on your leg.

Opening your eyes, you locked them with his, tracing your palm down his chest and stomach. Somehow, you managed to turn you both around so he was by the wall. You didn’t care about teasing him through his pants so you pushed your hand inside and grabbed his hard shaft. Dean jerked and choked on his breath; the whole foreplay made him ridiculously sensitive.

You smiled satisfied and began to pump him, making his head fall back on the wall. His exposed neck was shining with sweat, throat moving as he swallowed hard. Your biting kink was begging for you to bite him, but the view was too good to not watch. His breathing quickened along with your strokes, his jaw flexing when he opened his mouth to chug. A thick vein popped out on the side of his neck, a guttural whine coming from him when you rubbed your thumb on his tip. Finally, you gave in and closed your lips on his jaw, light stubble pricking your lips. Dean turned his head and palming yours he brought you in for a kiss but you broke it fast, having enough.

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

Not being able to stay away from each other, you stumbled towards the room, kissing and laughing, getting rid of the rest of the clothes on your way. Hitting the bed you let yourself fall on it, pulling Dean behind you. He hovered above you, using his tongue to play with your nipples as you both climbed up to the headboard. Adjusting the pillows beneath you, you felt his body pressing down, arms sneaking under yours as he kissed you deeply. Rolling his hips, he drove his cock between your folds, poking your clit and you automatically lifted your lower body up on your heels, feeling the electricity running through you. Dean bit down on your lip and pulled on it hard with his teeth, smiling when you hissed.

Without thinking much you just reached between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance, making him freeze. The look he gave you was a mashup of a question and disbelief, and all it took was your evil smirk. You felt him fisting the sheets under you and with one, mild thrust he slid inside of you. Arching your back you inhaled, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He was stretching you; your walls fluttered around him when he bottomed out, making the two of you give silent moans, your voices stuck in your throats from intensity.

Watching you, he began to move, making you both more and more comfortable with the feeling. Gradually, his pace increased and so did the noises. Your breathy moans and growls filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin as Dean's hips waved between your thighs, faster and faster. New layers of sweat covered your bodies as the temperature increased; you felt the omnipresent, pleasurable burning.

Dean kept the rhythm, only stopping for just for a moment to kiss you. Not letting the opportunity pass, you pushed on him and flipped over so you were on top. Looking at you with a smirk, he palmed your asscheeks as you sinked down on him, continuing the activity.

The passion and sensuality made your head spin; Dean’s lustful eyes devouring you alive weren’t helping. You dragged your nails on his flesh again, making him hiss between the sounds. It wasn’t easy to breathe, to think or control yourself; your body started working by itself, speeding up, making you bounce on him while leaning your hands on his chest for support. Dean couldn’t decide where to touch, what part of you he should grab next; his hands were everywhere. Wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck he sat up, changing the angle and gave you this eye-rolling kiss. This asshole knew what he was doing.

A new position allowed you to only roll your hips and you laid back, grabbing Dean’s ankle to make your moves more fluent. He took a handful of your ass, helping you, watching himself sliding in and out of you, growling in pleasure. Tangled together you moved in sync, matching the other’s moves, grinding to empower the sensation. Feeling the coil tightening in your stomach, your head hung back and you exhaled, wailing quietly. A hand flattened on your back and Dean violently pulled you up, pressing your forehead to his. With closed eyes, panting against each other's mouth you chased both of your deliriums. Your pussy fluttered, your nails dug into his neck as you clasped it; the feeling started to overwhelm. The way Dean was moaning and clinging to you made it clear that he felt the same.

Your strength was fading and you found yourself slowing down. Dean’s attempts to continue were in vain as he was becoming weak too, exhaustion and his upcoming release taking over him.

“Y/N,” he warned you and you opened your eyes, looking at him when he reached between you. “I’m gonna-” you kissed him, cutting him off, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

“Stay inside,” you whispered, watching the surprise flash through his features.

The serious, assuring look on your face made his eyes roll back and the noise he made, clamped your stomach. Using your last strands of your power, you sped up, Dean joining you by hitting the right spot inside you. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing on it fast and you moaned loudly, feeling your muscles tightening.

A few more strokes, a few more moves and the crushing wave of pleasure hit you; your inner walls pulsated, squeezing Dean’s cock as you grabbed firmly on his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts went more erratic but also were more powerful; he was pounding inside you slow but hard, putting his forehead between your breasts. You were shaking and his breath fanning over your tummy only added more goosebumps.

Then you felt his arms wrapping around you and he hugged you tight. Pulling you close, Dean thrusted for the last time and with a low, throaty groan he stilled; his cock throbbing inside you, allowing you to milk him as you were still coming. The two of you were shivering, entwined in each other, panting and sweaty. Your heart was hammering and you could feel Dean’s galloping as well.

After calming down a bit, he let go of you and fell back on the bed, hitting the pillows with a sigh. Licking your lips, you looked down at him and smiled, seeing his eyes sparkling with joy and bliss. He laughed, caressing your thighs and then pulled you down for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, without tongue, just lips brushing yours; completely different then those earlier.

Oh, so he could be gentle too.

Cupping his face, you pecked his mouth a few times and then rolled off of him, standing up to make a quick run to your bathroom to clean yourself, leaving the door open.

"Hey!" you heard him yelling not even two minutes later, after you splashed your face with cold water. "Is it weird that I wanna cuddle?!"

You smiled on his words, shaking your head. Asshole also appeared to be a softie cuddler. Can this evening be any weirder?

"Yes!" you yelled back, laughing as you put down the cloth you were using to dry yourself.

"Cool!" he announced and then changed his tone, "I don't care."

Chuckling, you turned the light off on your way out and grabbed a random, oversized t-shirt from your drawer to put it on, letting it slip from one of your shoulders. Dean was making himself comfy in your bed, watching you carefully with his arm under his head and a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" you asked as you climbed on the bed, joining him under the covers.

"Nothing," he shrugged and shifted so you could fit in, resting your head on his chest.

Throwing your arm over his middle, you hugged him as his fingers came to trace the skin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over you as you cuddled, enjoying the warmth, but you knew his mind was running, just like yours.

You didn’t like this tendency of yours to overthink, but the current situation was not only unexpected but also confusing. What now? Lovers? Relationship? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits? Because, you had to stay honest, if he did something that would piss you off, no matter how good he was in bed, you would still punch his perfect nose.

"I'm sorry." His words surprised you, detaching you from your thoughts. "For being a noisy neighbour."

You could hear the genuine guilt in his voice and that immediately made you feel like a bitch, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

"I'm sorry for screwing up your car," you mumbled and quickly regretted it.

"Ha! So it was you!" His victory voice made your eyes roll and you poked his side, annoyed by the fact he dragged a confession from you so easily.

"But if it makes you feel any better, the paint is made of chalk so it’ll easily wash off," you said, unable to help the silly smile that spread across your face when you saw the relieved but shocked expression that he wore.

“Well played,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling under your ear which you found oddly comforting. So you snuggled more, melting into the intimacy.

You had to look the truth straight into the eye; maybe he did infuriate you like no other but there was something else. A pull, an urge to blow off the constant steam forming between you. You wanted him and something was telling you that from now on you won't be knocking on door number 12 just to fuss about loud music.

And once Jo finds out, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback. ASKs and DMs are open, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

Tag list is open! :)

If something is not working, you weren’t on the tag list even if you wanted to, you can’t send an ask or you didn’t receive the notification about me tagging you in any of my fics, please contact me in DM’s.

Tag list: @deanwanddamons @jay-and-dean @katehuntington @winchest09 @talesmaniac89 @roonyxx @bunkerconfessions @akshi8278 @snffbeebee @lady-pswrld @rvgrsbrns​ @polina-93 @teresa-67 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @mrspeacem1nusone @flamencodiva @cutiecowgirl @waywardbaby @flashxspn @lyarr24

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWENTY TWO || THE ORIGIN OF BLIND OBEDIENCE

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + nitta akari from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of violence + mention of suicide + mention of dangerous acts + mention of killing + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 04 may

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 7.2k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : jamais vu

↳ next episode : the origin of blind obedience 2 

↳ barista’s notes : let me admit...this ain’t my best piece of work, but i hope you all enjoy this episode of the series and good night everyone ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’.

there was one going to be mention but...let’s keep that a secret for now...

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better...

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“Kanada Taichi in Morioka, in June. Shimada Osamu in Yokohama, in August. Yamato Hiroshi in Nagoya, in September. These three died in similar circumstances. They were stabbed to death by a cursed spirit at the entrances to their apartments and all of them had filed the same complaint with the property managers several weeks before dying. They claimed their auto-locking doors were left wide open. None of the other residents have any idea what could have happened,” Nitta (your current driver) explained, causing you to open your eyes slowly, letting your drowsiness fade away slowly.

Currently, at this moment in time, you and your classmates were being driven to your desired destination to your current mission that all four of you were set causing you to wonder how much longer the drive was going to be, but also how you were going to cope with dealing with the whole ordeal since it had been a while since you had gone on a mission dealing with the unknown - last time was over two months ago at the detention centre where you had to face Sukuna (a special grade curse).

“None of the dates or locations match, though. Could the same cursed spirit have killed them all?” Fushiguro questioned as he stared down at the Ipad he had in his hands while trying to read all the information that was provided.

‘There is one location they all have in common though’ you thought, as you turned your head to stare out of the window, recalling the time where you had read the same information on your phone during breakfast with your adoptive father, Gojo Satoru.

“Hey, could the cursed spirit be responsible for the doors? Do sensors like those pick up cursed spirits? They don’t show up on camera and stuff, right?” Itadori began to ask an abundance of questions causing you to internally giggle as some of the questions he asked were basic knowledge for jujutsu sorcerers, but it was adorable for him to try to find a solution.

“Apparently, the cursed spirit made the door operators go crazy, not the sensors,” Nitta answered, leading you to give a side-eye to indicate that you were listening to her before going back to peer at the window to figure out a solution of your own about the current situation.

“Oh...Operators?” Itadori muttered in confusion as he tilted his head slightly to the side.

“And as for whether or not the same cursed spirit was behind this...Well, we couldn’t be certain from just the residuals. After all, a lot of time had already passed. So we tried to track down any connections between the three, we found that all three attended the same middle school for two years,” Nitta mentioned causing you to stiffen up slightly on the information given to you.

“Meaning all three received the same curse, and it activated after time had passed?” Kugisaki suggested with a thinking gesture causing Itadori to make a noise of impressiveness before leaning forward to view the female sorcerer.

“Precisely. That’s highly likely. So we’re going to that middle school now to question someone the three victims all knew, and I want you four to see what you can find as sorcerers,” Nitta answered leading you to sigh (to which she slyly notices) before you processed to close your eyes as if you were going to nap for a bit.

“Way to go, Kugisaki!” Itadori mentioned in astonishment leading the mentioned sorcerer to flick her hair back.

“Heh. What’d you expect?” Kugisaki questioned smugly.

However, without the attention of all three of you, Fushiguro seemed to be annoyed as he leaned his head back onto the chair seats before letting out a sigh of his own, wondering how he was going to handle this situation now.

                                              ꕥ

“A funeral?” Itadori questioned, as you processed to exit out of the car leading you to see a few people wearing all black, entering into a building before shutting the door quietly to not disturb the mourners that were attending the disheartening event.

“Is this the home of that acquaintance?” Kugisaki asked as she was also looking at the darkening event that was happening.

“Yes, it is…” NItta answered in a stutter leading everyone to get back in the car since there was no possible way, all of you could even interview someone properly during this time since it would be considered extremely rude.

                                               ꕥ

“Well, this sucks. He dies the same way the other three did. He lived with his family, so there was no auto-locking door, but he was killed in front of the entrance. Previously, upon returning home alone, he reported, “The door was unlocked, but it wouldn’t open,” to his family members,” Nitta explained, as you processed to scan through all the documents through your phone trying to obtain some sort of connection between all the victims rather than the middle school that they attended to.

‘Date of birth 1983-1984...that means they were in middle school at around 1995-1998...Yasohachi Bridge was popular back then, right?’

Suddenly, the car had come to a sudden halt causing you to look up from your phone, only to discover that you had arrived at the location that Nitta had discussed to everyone at the beginning leading you to look up that the building from the side of your window before slowly letting out a breath as you processed to open the car door to go and investigate with the others.

“I asked his parents, too, but they said they didn’t know what relationship he had with the other three. Man, there goes our only lead!” Nitta whined loudly, as everyone began to enter the school premises causing you to halt for a second before you continued to stroll behind them, trying to make sure your classmates didn’t notice your fidgeting behaviour.

“Don’t worry! There has to be something at this middle school!” Itadori reassured Nitta as she looked disappointed with her head hanging low.

“I sure hope so. For now, I’ve secured an appointment with a teacher, so I’m counting on you,” Nitta replied with a disheartened tone.

“Roger,” Itadori replied with a determined smile.

Suddenly, Kugisaki (who had her hands behind her head in the beginning) unexpectedly had a mischievous smile painted on her face before quickly running off to the side causing you to look at her with a raised eyebrow as you wondered what she was planning on doing.

“There’s some obvious punks, let’s beat’em up and set’em straight!” Kugisaki suggested causing you to walk up to her with your hand raised since she was going completely off-topic with what everyone was supposed to do currently.

“Why?” Itadori asked in a confused tone.

Slowly, the two punks that Kugisaki mentioned began to straightening up with menacing looks on their face, leading Itadori to lean forward to observe the two, only for them to suddenly straighten up more in sudden fear, causing you to be somewhat confused on why there was a sudden change in expression, only for your eyes to follow what they were looking at.

“I-It’s good to see you!” the pucks shouted while processing to bow 90 degrees with their heads lowered causing you to turn back to them with widened eyes at what was going on.

“Heh, look at that. You actually get it,” Kugisaki stated with a smug look on her face causing you to give her a fed-up look towards her direction while trying to figure out why Itadori was joining in her shenanigans.

“An aura just pours out, even if you try to hide it,” Itadori mentioned as he pushed his hair back leading you to ignore both of your classmates and you processed to look around the school trying to find some clues while noticing slight hints of cursed energy roaming around the premises.

“We haven’t seen you since graduation, Fushiguro-san!” one of the punks mentioned, causing the two smug sorcerers to drop their act before quickly turning around to see Fushiguro, who was now looking to the side in embarrassment.

“I...went here...for middle school,” Fushiguro announced before turning his back to face behind him to avoid his classmates, only for them to violently grab his face as they tried to make his turn to face them.

“That’s a surprise, too, but that’s not the point! Look at me!” Kugisaki angrily demanded, as she forcibly turned Fushiguro’s face to look at her with a struggle as Itadori had a hold of the shikigami sorcerer’s head to make it face him.

“What’d you do?! What did you do in middle school?! No, it would be quicker to ask them!” Itadori mentioned in a panic, as he was desperate to find an answer.

“Hey, Idiot A and Idiot B! What did this guy do to you?” Kugisaki yelled out her question, while still having a hold on Fushiguro’s face.

“We...Or rather, every delinquent, gang member, and so on in this area got beaten up by Fushiguro-san,” one of the punks answered, as both of them lifted their heads leading both Itadori and Kugisaki to let go of their friend’s face in shock before turning back to face him in confusion, looking for answers.

“I beat them up,” Fushiguro muttered as he turned his head back with his now messed up hair, leading Itadori and Kugisaki to grab his face again in complete surprise.

“Why do you keep talking so stiffly?! Look at me!” Kugisaki angrily asked as she painfully turned Fushiguro’s face to look at her.

“What are you doing?! Hey! What are you doing?!” Itadori asked in a panic, once again, as he now turned Fushiguro’s head to face him.

“Wow~ you beat up people Fushiguro, what a drag~” you commented with a hand over your mouth leading the erratic-haired sorcerer to look to you for help only for you to turn away to observe the school’s premises again, trying to gain something for the mission at hand.

“Hey!” someone shouted, causing both of the sorcerers to let go of Fushiguro’s face which led his hair to bounce a bit. Turning around to face the front, you noticed an old man with glasses running up towards you guys leading your eyes to widen once you had gotten a good look at who was coming towards everyone.

“Who are you? Students from other schools aren’t allowed in here!” the old man stated with a loud tone.

“And who the hell are you?!” Kugisaki yelled back in anger, causing you to smack the back of her head as if to tell her to ‘shut up’ which caused her to look up at you with a pout as she held her head to soothe the pain away.

“He’s clearly a staff member. Why are you so combative?” Itadori questioned in a low tone as he began to slouch.

“We have permission to be here,’ Nitta informed the staff member while processing to show the pass that she was carrying leading the old man to adjust his glasses as he peered at the pass she was currently holding.

“Oh, you’re the ones? You’re all young, you need to hang your pass around your neck,” the old man mentioned as began to observe the group of students behind her before his eyes widened once they handed on a certain someone. 

“Fushiguro-kun?” 

“Hello,” Fushiguro greeted, as he looked to the side with a small blush beginning to appear on his face.

“He remembers you!” Itadori and Kugisaki mentioned in a teasing tone as they looked at their classmate with an amused look.

“So this man’s been here a long time?” NItta asked with a cheerful tone, leading you to conclude that she probably had gained hope for a new lead on the mission that was happening right now.

“Probably, Takeda-san’s a permanent employee,” Fushiguro answered in a monotone voice.

“Then I leave the rest to you!” Nitta concluded, to which she held a thumbs up as if it was some sort of encouragement.

‘Abandoning her duty....’ Fushiguro thought, before shifting his eyes towards you as he realised that you had become quiet again, only to discover that you were looking at Takeda with some sort of fondness in your eyes as a small but noticeable smile appeared on your face.

‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it Takeda-san? How are you? You’ve been okay? I wish I could ask you this..but...it’s for the best that I didn’t at all huh?’ you thought before turning your head to look at the windows beside you, only to realise that the same hint of cursed energy was still lingering around.

‘I’m surprised it remains here…’ you mentioned internally before turning back to look at the staff member in front of you.

                                              ꕥ

“Kanada, Shimada, Yamato...and Morishita, huh? I was shocked by their passing, but I guess it’s been nearly twenty years since they graduated, I remember it like it was yesterday. They were problem children in their own right, though not as bad as you. What do you want to know?” Takeda mentioned with a soft smile causing you to scoff a bit at his comment as you covered your mouth to hold your laugh but to Fushiguro’s annoyance.

“Strange rumours, dark rumours, connections to bad adults…” Fushiguro listed as he raised his arm, leading you to look at him weirdly since it wasn’t the arm towards your side he had lifted.

“Hey, problem child!” Itadori and Kugisaki chanted in a teasing tone.

“...and anything of ill omen,” Fushiguro concluded before closing his hand into a fist as he proceeded to swing it down to punch the top of Itadori’s head.

“Dark rumours? They may have been problem children, but they never went beyond average middle school stuff. But wait...ill omen?” Takeda muttered as he began to think.

“Do you mean that tale? About the Yasohachi Bridge bungee jumping?” one of the punks questioned, causing you to look to the side in interest since you had an idea about the bridge before you had arrived at the middle school.

“You’re still here, A and B?” Kugisaki asked since she was surprised that they remained where they were.

“Yasohachi Bridge?” Itadori questioned.

“A notorious suicide spot, it’s well known in this area as a haunted location,” you answered in a casual tone before explaining why it was such an important detail to note for your pink-haired classmate.

“Oh, that’s right! Back then, it was all the rage among delinquents to bungee jump off Yasohachi Bridge late at night, it was one of those tests of courage,” Takeda explained, once he remembered what he was trying to think of.

“What a weird tribe,” Kugisaki muttered in annoyance.

“What a drag,” you mentioned in a fed-up tone.

“I’m surprised there are people dumber than me!” Itadori stated.

“What do you use for a cord?” Fushiguro questioned as he was trying to wonder how the people bungee jumped in the first place.

“We don’t do it, I just heard some students from our parents’ generation talking about it,” the punk mentioned causing you to nod your head slowly, conveying that you understood what he meant.

“One day, Kanada and the other three were absent without permission. That wasn’t all that usual by itself, but when we contacted their families, we learned that those four hadn’t come home the day before. It caused a pretty big stir, then they were found unconscious under the bridge. They got chewed out good, but all four swore up and down they didn’t remember a thing,” Takeda explained, causing all the first years to come to the same conclusion in their heads.

                                               ꕥ

“I think that’s it,” Nitta suggested as she looked at all four of you.

“I’ve been to Yasohachi Bridge, too,” Fushiguro mentioned in a serious tone.

“To bungee jump?” Itadori asked comedically, leading Fushiguro to swiftly smash a fist on the top of his head in annoyance causing Itadori to wince in pain as he held his head with a pout.

“It’s easy for curses to take root in haunted locations, just like in schools, so people from Jujutsu High regularly patrol it,” Fushiguro explained causing you to recall the times where you would walk around the area late at night while trying to hide from the sorcerers that came from time to time back a few years ago.

“There wasn’t anything unusual at the time, though. It might be a bit famous, but it’s still used as a normal bridge,” Fushiguro mentioned.

“We still have to go check it out, though,” Kugisaki suggested, causing you to agree with her since it was the best for all the four of you to survey the bridge yourselves.

“Fushiguro-kun?” someone called out, causing everyone to turn to find Takeda coming towards everyone’s way.

“Sorry, I was curious about something,” Takeda mentioned causing Fushiguro to fully turn around to face the old man.

“What is it?” Fushiguro asked.

“Tsukimi-kun took awfully good care of you when you were in school. Is she doing well?” the old man asked, causing you to stiffen up slightly before shifting your eyes to the side since you were getting nervous at the fact the staff member was remembering everyone little by little.

“Yes,” Fushiguro answered with a deadpan expression.

“Who’s Tsumiki?” Itadori asked the shikigami user in curiosity.

“My older sister,” Fushiguro answered in a low tone, leading Kugisaki to grab his shoulder in surprise once again.

“What?! You tell us too little about yourself!” Kugisaki mentioned in an annoyed tone leading Itadori to agree with her, leading the old man to tilt his head slightly to the side - to avoid the blockage of Itadori’s body - to discover you making your way to the side of the car, where you were sitting before.

“Excuse me, I also wanted to ask you something if you don’t mind,” Takeda asked in a kind tone, causing you to halt your movements before looking up to find the old man gifting you with a sweet smile that you remembered so much causing you to turn back and make your way towards the staff-member with lessening the tension that you had before walking away.

“Yeah, it’s fine, what is it you want to ask me?” you questioned with a light tone, trying to sound polite to the man, causing him to smile at you.

“Do I remember you from anywhere, you seem quite familiar to me?” Takeda asked, causing your eyes to widen in fear before quickly blinking away the sudden change in emotion you were surprisingly expressing so easily.

“I never been to Saitama Urami East Junior High before, I’m sorry but I don’t think I’m the person you are trying to recall,” you answered with a sad soft smile leading the man to sigh before fixing his glasses.

“Is that so? I’m sorry, the minute I saw you, I began to recall a student that would always help me around from time to time and she was always on top of her work, but she left around the second year before I got to thank her,” the old man began to reminisce, not noticing the stiffness of your body as well as the panic rising within your heart leading it to beat faster than it should.

‘He’s remembering too much, but didn’t I put enough cursed energy into that spell? It should have wiped everything from his memory’

“Sorry, but could you look at my left eye for a second? I think I got an eyelash stuck there,” you quickly asked, causing the old man to agree to help you as he adjusted his glasses once again before taking a good look at your eye.

‘It could cast it now, but the others are here...I could just not use the spell to its full potential and that couldn’t cause him to faint, maybe that will work,’ you quickly thought as you were slowly transferring a small amount of your cursed energy to your left eye.

“Haku-” you muttered under your breath before coming to a sudden halt, causing your cursed energy to waver slightly as it began to slowly move away from your eye leading you to conclude that you didn’t even have the guts to commit to the action that you were planning to go on with like you did two years ago, to which caused your heart to become extremely heavy with guilt as you knew once he entered back into the school, the lingering cursed energy that you had left in the school would cause his memory to fade away, processing you to let go of your sudden plan as the staff-member mentioned that there was nothing to worry about.

‘Nothing to worry about huh?’

“Thank you so much,” you softly said with gratitude before giving the old man a final wave goodbye before entering the car with the rest of your classmates, wondering if it was still for the best that you let him free with his memory gradually coming back to life.

                                              ꕥ

“We’re here. Koi no Kuchi Canyon, Yasohachi Bridge. Once you confirm a cursed spirit’s here, I’ll lower a veil,” Nitta explained as all of the first years processed to get out of the sleek black vehicle before stepping to the side of the bridge to be away from the road.

“Roger!” Itadori started with a confident smile presented on his face as he tugged at the vinyl cord he was holding.

Slowly, you began to walk away from the group while Nitta got back in her car before driving away and steadily grabbed onto the metal poles the were in front of you - probably built to prevent any more suicidal people from jumping over - and with much effort, began to pull yourself up to reach to the top before grabbing in the metal bar as you pulled yourself up even further.

“GOJO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Kugisaki screamed in horror, as she finally turned around to discover you pulled your body up to sit on top of the fence as you peered down to check how far you had to jump down in order to find what you were looking for in this mission.

“SHE’S NOT LISTENING!” Kugisaki yelled (once again) as she pointed at you in anger, causing the boys to turn around to see what the fuss was about before seeing the drastic measures you had taken to find the cursed spirit.

“Woah, Gojo, there’s no need for that! We have the vinyl cord for a reason!” Itadori mentioned, which seemed to be a way of getting you to come down from where you were right now as you turned to look at him before turning back at the ground below you.

“SHE’S NOT LISTENING AGAIN!” Itadori cried out in fear, as if he hadn’t done more stupid and extremes things than what you were doing right now.

“Gojo!” Fushiguro shouted before jumping up to reach the back of your school jacket, leading you to grab onto the sides of the metal bar that you were sitting on right now for support before turning back to peer at the shikigami user, ready to yell at him for disturbing your train of thought only for him to give you a pair of surprised eyes as if he remembered something.

“Get down, please,” Fushiguro quietly commanded, leading you to give him a deadpan expression before turning back to prepare to jump off since you couldn’t find another way to get down there, only for Fushiguro to pull you from your jacket once again leading your body to start to fall backwards - much to your surprise - to which caused the boys to immediately get behind you, ready to catch you so you didn’t hit the ground at all. 

“You drag!” you screamed at Fushiguro before letting your body fall towards the safe side of the metal barrier, processing to land on top of Itadori and Fushiguro as a result.

                                              ꕥ

Letting out a yawn, Itadori couldn’t help but emphasise how tired and bored he was as he remained seated on the metal railings that all four of you were sitting on right now.

“Hey, we didn’t find hide nor hair of any cursed spirit,” Kugisaki whined in annoyance as her posture slouch in disappointment, leaving Fushiguro to slouch in boredom while you had your eyes closed as if you were sleeping while sitting up straight when in reality, you were concentrating on sensing any lingering cursed energy around the area you were in right now.

Suddenly, you felt something pressed gently on the side of your head before it pushed you down to the side slowly, causing the movement to halt the second you felt someone’s shoulder being used as a pillow for your head leading a sense of confusion to rise within your stomach before you heard a few teasing sounds from Kugisaki.

“Oh~ what a gentleman Fushiguro~” Kugisaki teased, leading you to realise that your head was now resting on Fushiguro’s shoulder since it did seem like you had fallen asleep while sitting up.

“I’m surprised she can sleep while sitting up,” Itadori commented, as she leaned forward to see you in what seemed to be in a state of rest since you made the decision to keep your eyes closed.

“You should have seen her while we were training, she was asleep for so long every day,” Kugisaki mentioned as she began to recall all the times you had taken a nap during your daily training sessions with the second-years as preparation for the Kyoto Sister School Exchange Event.

                                              ꕥ

As time went by, after you had ‘woken up’ from your nap when in reality, you had given up on trying to trace a single amount of cursed energy from the distance you were away from the ground below - which was where you were trying to go from the beginning if Fushiguro didn’t pull you down - you were now in front of a small convenience store while sipping on a small carton of orange juice that you had managed to purchase as a breakfast substitute since you were surprisingly not feeling hungry at all currently.

“We didn’t sense any presences or residuals,” Fushiguro informed Nitta, who had come to pick you three up after not hearing a single thing from everything, except for all of you being hungry. 

“I see, which means this ain’t it, Guess it’s back to square one,” Nitta replied with a slight tone of disappointment as the most promising lead has been for nothing.

‘It wouldn’t be square one if you just let me jump down to the bottom to investigate…’

“Gojo, is there something wrong?” Kugisaki asked as she noticed you looking to the side with a somewhat annoyed expression planted on your face.

“It’s nothing,” you replied before taking another sip from the carton you were holding.

“But isn’t it bad if we take too long?” Itadori asked in a light serious tone.

“Why?” Kugisaki questioned, wondering why they needed to be in a hurry to finish the mission as soon as possible.

“Well, it’s a famous haunted location, right? There might still be plenty of others who got cursed and right now, the death rates at 100%. We don’t want to see others die, right?” Itadori explained as he answered Kugisaki’s previous question.

“True,” Kugisaki muttered, once she took Itadori’s theory into consideration.

“Ding-Ding! Bungee jumping was all the rage then, right? So maybe the act of jumping off is the key?” Nitta asked as she seemed excited to think of another clue on how to find the curses that were the curse for all these deaths that have been happening.

“Did she say “ding-ding”? Did she really say that?” Itadori asked as he stared at his senior in adoration.

“She did! She did!” Kugisaki replied in the same high tone with the same look at adoration at how cute Nitta was right now.

“Itadori already tried that,” Fushiguro mentioned causing the bungee jump idea to come to a halt.

“Huh?..... What?! You mean you jumped with that vinyl cord?!” Nitta screamed in shock as she began to imagine how you, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki would wrap Itadori in the cord, only for the shikigami user to fly kick him over the metal bar with you and Kugisaki holding onto the end of the cord.

“Hey, there you are!” someone shouted, causing you to look towards the direction in where the sound was coming from, only to discover one of the punks from yesterday to be on a bike with someone behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist.

“Fushiguro-san!” the punk shouted to gain the shikigami user’s attention.

“Who’s that again?” Kugisaki asked as she stared at the punk with a confused expression only for Itadori to answer her question by mentioning the people were Fushiguro’s upperclassman from his middle school and how she was ready to pick a fight with them causing her to suddenly remember who the person was.

“You were talking about Yasohachi Bridge, so...I’m really glad I found you here!” the puck mentioned with a smile on his face with slight sweat from the swift bike riding as well as a hint of fear of Fushiguro.

‘Fujinuma?...If I recall, she was a student as well…’ you thought, as you watched the girl get off of the bike she was on before walking towards the group as her eyes widened at you for a second before turning into complete confusion, leading your body to complete tense for a second.

“Fujinuma?” Fushiguro muttered causing Nitta to look at him with a perplexed expression before he clarified that she was an old classmate of his.

“My older sister,” the punk introduced the girl leading her to bow as a greeting.

“I’m glad you remember me,” Fujinuma stated in a soft-toned voice before straightening back up to face everyone within the group.

“I was talking to my sister about you yesterday, and..” the punk stated before his sister took the reins.

“Um, Morishita-san had a funeral in the neighbourhood...Then I heard from my brother that you were looking into that man and Tasohachi Bridge, so I started to wonder if they were related…” Fujinuma began to explain, leading Nitta from behind both of the people to shake her head as they needed to hide the real reason on why everyone was here right now to which Fushiguro noticed.

“If what’s related?” Fushiguro queried as if he didn’t understand what was going on.

“Morishita-san’s death and the bridge…” Fujinuma replied in a smaller tone.

“They’re not related, we just-” Fushiguro quickly countered back.

“I...I went there. In eighth grade...I went to Yasohachi Bridge at night,” Fujinuma stated as her face contorted in fear as she began to tilt her head down, causing Kugisaki to give a look as she began to wonder how many people had been to that bridge.

“Has anything odd happened at home recently? Any strange feelings that only affect you and no one else?” Nitta asked as she leaned down to face the fearful girl, only for Fujinuma to look up once again.

“My family runs a local branch shop...and the shop’s automatic door is wide open only when I come home. Mom and Dad both say it’s just a coincidence, but there’s definitely something there. It scared me. That’s when I heard about you and remembered the Yasohachi Bridge,” the girl replied as she began to shiver in fear while trying to recall all the same incidents happening to her.

“When did the issue with your automatic door start?” Nitta queried, trying to get enough information as sly as possible.

“It’s happened about every other day for exactly one week now,” Fujinuma replied in a shaky tone.

‘There’s at least two weeks between when the four victims noticed something and their deaths,’ Fushiguro thought.

‘We still have some time,’ Itadori thought, encouraged by the fact that there was some amount of time left to save someone from the cycle that was happening right now.

“You didn’t go to Yasohachi Bridge by yourself at the time, did you? Do you remember who you went with?” Kugisaki asked, trying to make sure there weren't any other victims that you all were missing at this current moment in time.

“Um, so this really does have something to do with…” Fujinuma mentioned in a stutter, scared that her life might now be at risk.

“Just with your automatic door. But it has nothing to do with Morishita-sans’s death. Fushiguro-kun and the others are helping me with my college report: Electromagnetic Waves from Haunted Locations and their Effects on Electronics, it’s a huge pain in my gut!” Nitta responded quickly, before suddenly linking arms with you causing you to put on a realistic fake smile to hold the lie in place.

“But I want to hear from all kinds of people, so I’d love to hear who you went with,” Nitta continued, trying to make the girl calm herself down while reminding her the fact that they now have to save her life before something could happen to her.

“I went on a test of courage with two others from my club. That’s right. Fushiguro-kun, Tsumiki-san was with us then, too,” Fujinuma announced, causing you to halt for a second while Itadori and Kugisaki were shocked at the fact that Fushiguro’s sister was involved in this too.

“I see. Then I’ll try asking Tsumiki, too,” Fushiguro replied calmly.

“There was also another person there at the bottom of the bridge, but I don’t remember really clearly of her at all...she was wearing our uniform thought, sort of reminds me of her,” Fujinuma stated as she pointed off to somewhere, leading your whole body to become suddenly numb at the fact that her finger was directing pointing at you causing your classmates to turn to you in fear at what might happening to you if her statement was true.

“Sorry, but I never been here at all, maybe you have the wrong person?” you unconcernedly suggested, trying to change you from being the topic of the conversation leading the girl to look confused again before gasping on how silly she was being before mentioning that she had never even met you and that she apologised for scaring you.

“Okay, then I’ll escort these two home. Please keep working on the report,” Nitta mentioned to the four of you with a smile on her face.

“Something’s up, isn’t it?” Fujinuma’s brother asked leading Nitta to form another excuse on how she could let them ride a bike back after making them petal all the way here, causing you to turn around and take a deep breath the second they began walking away.

“Fushiguro,” Itadori called out in worry before repeating his name again louder as he proceeded to grab onto his friend’s shoulder, only to see the look of unknown fear painted across Fushiguro’s face.

“Fushiguro, snap out of it, make sure she’s safe first,” Itadori muttered in reassurance, as he turned his body to face his friend to help him calm down.

“I’m fine,” Fushiguro muttered in a low tone, once he was able to snap out of his fear daze but apologising to his friend as he needed to take a step back for a second before reaching into his pocket to grab his phone to make a call leaving Kugisaki to come to your side and ask a few questions for you to answer.

“What was she talking about? Were you really a part of that school? Were you really at Yasohachi bridge back then? Answer me, Gojo!” Kugisaki asked in a panic, as you just stared at her with a blank look on your face before letting out a sigh.

“I’ve never been there before until yesterday, I have never been here at all, to begin with. There is no way I could be at that bridge,” you answered, trying to convert the conversation into something different, only for Itadori to turn his body to face you directly as he questioned you again about your ‘involvement’ in everything that's happening right now.

“Why are random people saying if they remember you then, does your cursed technique allow you to manipulate someone’s mind or anything?” Itadori asked as he needed to understand why a few people mentioned about you when you had said you have never been here at this location ever in your life.

“I don’t have a technique that does that, they have been talking about a girl that looks like me,” you answered while proceeding to cross your arms to stay as persuasive as you could while trying to hide a piece of your past that you had already somewhat erased out of everyone’s minds.

‘If they are somehow recalling some bits here and there...what about Fushiguro?’ you thought as you closed your eyes to lessen the headache that was gradually coming from the back of your head.

‘There isn’t enough time to think about it at all...these three need to get out of here before I go investigate the whole thing myself...that is...if my theory is correct like last time’

Suddenly, you reached into the pocket of your skirt before taking out your phone to swiftly call Nitta to pick everyone up from where she had left all of you causing Itadori and Kugisaki to look at you in complete confusion.

                                              ꕥ

“Just get in the car,” you commanded in a low and threatening tone, causing the three first-years to look at you in shock before all three were pushing down into the back seats of the car.

“Us three? What about you Gojo?” Itadori asked in a panic, as he wasn’t sure why you were pushing everyone into the car that Nitta was pulled in - to which she understood why you were doing this at this moment in time.

“The mission has gone into a higher rank than what it was previously predicted, I’ll come back once I’m done with the whole thing,” you stated in a serious manner as you processed to push Itadori further into the car causing Fushiguro and Kugisaki to be squashed behind him before slamming the car door shut before anyone could escape out of the vehicle leaving you alone once the car had driven off with all three of your classmates inside of it.

                                              ꕥ

‘If I remember, you go down here’ you thought, as you began to slide down to the bottom of the ground before walking forward out of the wood, to only find yourself in the same spot you were two years ago in a different sort of uniform.

Taking your katana out of the shoulder bag you were carrying, you hooked it on your lower back before taking the familiar blue metal pole out of the same back before hooking it on to the side of your belt causing it to dangle once it was secured onto your side.

‘If my theory was right along, there should be an incomplete domain lingering around here...meaning there is a possibility that Sukuna’s finger is within a finger bearer if I enter it…’

“What a drag,” you muttered under your breath before sliding your katana out of its wooden sheath as you swift swang it behind you, causing the tip of the blade to be an inch away from Itadori’s neck to which lead the sorcerer to lean his head back in shock as your sudden speed.

“Why are you all here? Didn’t I tell you all to go home and I would deal with this?” you rhetorically asked as you pulled your katana back from Itadori leading him to relax as he let out a breath of relief.

“Fushiguro told us everything and that's what led us to help you out,” Kugisaki mentioned causing your eyes to shift from her to the shikigami user.

“We don’t want you to do this alone, you don’t have to tell us everything you are hiding Gojo, just let us help you,” Itadori pleaded with you as his hands were pressed together in a way to convey a ‘please’ to you.

“I...I can’t tell you anything...I’m sorry,” you muttered, as you slide your katana back into its black wooden casing, causing the trio to look at you with worry in their eyes as they were anxious that the secret you were keeping was something that was going to eat you inside as they were already cautious about your wellbeing if the cursed spirit was now going to target you due to Fujinuma sudden assumption.

                                              ꕥ

After the sudden intrusion of your classmates (much to your dismay), everyone started to walk towards the area where everyone believed the domain was going to be.

Crossing a river or other border - acts that symbolise crossing into the afterlife - carry important meaning in sorcery.

Confidently, everyone took one step forward causing a reaction of electricity to conduct as your foot hit the ground causing it to erupt as the domain suddenly enclosed everyone that had taken a step within its territory.

“There it is,” Itadori stated as he stared up at the curse, leading everyone to prepare themselves with their weapons of choice.

“This one will be rewarding to exorcise,” Kugisaki commented, as she confidently smiled at the scene in front of her.

Suddenly, you had sensed something coming from behind causing you to turn your head to the side to find a disgusting looking creature coming towards you leading everyone to move away slightly as the creature spun in the air before landing in front of all of you.

“What’s this? Someone beat me here?” the creature asked in a weird voice.

“Huh?” Kugisaki yelled out in annoyance.

“Fushiguro, this one’s a different case, right?” Itadori asked as he faced the new cursed spirit that decided to make an appearance.

“Yeah,” Fushiguro confirmed, leading Itadori to close his hands into a fist as they suddenly became consumed with his cursed energy.

“Then you three focus on that other one, I’ll exorcise this one,” Itadori stated as he raised his hands.

“What? You’re going to play with me? I wanted the older sister to,” the curse asked, causing you to shiver as you came to the sudden realisation that this curse was most likely with the others that were at the Kyoto Exchange event.

However, before even one could even move you rapidly unsheath your katana from your wooden casing as you spun around to block the sudden sneak attack that was behind you before utilising your cursed energy to your legs to give you the strength to halt your movement as the sudden intruder in front of you widened their eyes in shock at your sudden speed.

“That isn’t going to work on me again, you drag,” you muttered in a menacing tone causing your new opponent to laugh as they snapped out of their shock.

“Please, call me your mother again,” the woman stated as she smirked at you, leading a wave of anger and excitement to consume your body.

“Please, I….can’t wait to kill you,” you replied back with a crazed smile.

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[roselarkiin]

Brettsey + 2

So... this one didn't really turn out all that fluffy, but I hope it's okay!

#2 "The thought of losing you scares me."

In hindsight, running into a burning building without turnout gear or back up probably isn't the best idea she's ever had.

But she honestly doesn't see how she had any other choice.

Sylvie and Violet have just dropped their patient off at Med. Nothing crazy - a kid with an ulna fracture. A damn near routine call considering some of the things they see.

They're driving down 14th Street, on their way back to the firehouse, when they notice the smoke billowing out of the apartment building ahead of them.

Eyes fill with alarm as Sylvie slows the ambo to a stop. It's dark, and it's late, and there aren't any people around. Which in this situation is strange.

Sylvie can't make out the telltale sound of sirens approaching. There aren't any residents milling around the evacuation point either, like she would expect with a fire already this involved.

It's all so disconcerting.

Sylvie unbuckles her seatbelt, steps out of the ambulance, instructs Violet to radio main and find out which companies are on their way, see if they require sixty-one to stay on the scene.

She steps toward the building. The fire is at the other end of the complex, but the heat coming off the structure is almost unbearable.

There's smoke escaping from a few second story windows, and she can make out the flickering of orange flames from further inside the apartment.

Violet approaches at a jog, and Sylvie turns to face her partner expectantly.

"They weren't aware of a fire at this location," Violet says, the corners of her mouth turn down into a frown at the sight of the building. "They're assigning someone now."

Sylvie nods. Her brow creases, and she furrows her bottom lip into her mouth.

There's something really wrong with this scene. There should be alarms going off, alerting everyone to the danger.

She's seen her fair share of apartment fires in her time on the job, and it's usually chaos. All noise and people everywhere. This is the exact opposite. Eerily quiet with no one about.

These apartments aren't deserted. Surely someone should have made it out by now.

It could be another five, ten minutes before help arrives on the scene. She knows from experience just how much every second counts in a situation like this.

She can't just stand idly by, waiting for someone to arrive. She needs to get as many people out as she can.

"Violet," Sylvie starts and turns her head to look at her partner. "I'm not going to ask you to-"

As if she can sense what Sylvie is about to say, Violet cuts her off. "No way," she says, with an adamant shake of her head. "I'm not letting you go in there alone!"

There's a look of determination on the younger paramedic's face. One that tells Sylvie there's nothing she can say to change Violet's mind.

So she doesn't bother to try.

They enter the building, using their sleeves to cover their face as best they can.

Violet follows her orders, realizes they don't have time to argue, and goes down the hallway Sylvie tells her to. The one with less smoke. Away from the fire.

Sylvie might not be able to stop Violet from following her into the building, but she's damn well going to do everything in her power to keep her partner out of harm's way.

The hallways are dark and filled with smoke. Sylvie can barely make anything out or get her bearings.

She manages to find a door, bangs her fist against it until someone answers. It's easier after that.

Knock on the door until she wakes whoever's in the apartment, follow the wall along to the next door, and repeat.

Most can get themselves out of the building. The ones that can't, family members or neighbors are happy to escort them. It helps, means she can get to more people faster, without having to run up and down and out again and again.

By her estimation, she's able to clear about half the floor before she needs to get out. Before the cough and the ache in her chest becomes too much to bear.

She follows the last family down the stairs, meets up with Violet on her way out. They exit the building together and cough and sputter as they gasp for air.

She's hunched over, hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath.

"Brett!" She recognizes the voice instantly, stiffens as Matt grabs her shoulders. Her eyes are closed. She can't see him, but she can hear the concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," she rasps, her voice hoarse. Tries to reassure him. She doesn't need to see him to know it hasn't worked. She coughs again.

She tries to brush him off. He should be running the initial search. Not here with her.

She's fine, really. Tries to tell him again, but she can't get the words out. Her throat burns.

An open water bottle is shoved into her hands. From Gallo, she thinks. He's an angel.

She takes a few mouthfuls, swishes the water around in her mouth, spits it onto the ground before gulping the rest of the water down. Another full bottle quickly replaces the empty one.

"Are you insane?" Matt shouts. The concern turns to anger. His hands on her shoulders tighten, shakes her a little. "What the hell were you thinking, Sylvie? Why would you do something so incredibly stupid? You could have got yourself killed!"

The relief she felt, having Matt there when she exited the building, is replaced with irritation. And she gets it. He's afraid. She scared him; she understands that. But there's no reason for him to be so patronizing.

She probably understands more about what he's feeling right now than he does.

Because the emotions he experiences in this moment are exactly what she goes through every time she stands on the sidelines while she watches him run headlong into a burning building.

Whatever he's feeling, though, she is not some child to be scolded, and she doesn't appreciate him yelling at her like she is.

She knows her limits. She would never push herself past what she knows herself to be capable of.

She's vaguely aware of the orders he barks to the other members of eighty-one, but he makes no move to leave her side.

In any other situation, she might find it sweet, but in any other situation, he'd be leading his team in the search. Not standing here with her.

His grip softens on her arm, moves to her back. It does nothing to comfort her. In fact, it just makes her feel worse. Like she's being suffocated. Though that might be the smoke inhalation.

Her eyes narrow at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. She's furious with him. For talking down to her the way he did, in front of their friends and colleagues. For treating her like she's some child he's been tasked to deal with and not his girlfriend. His equal.

It's embarrassing.

She doesn't yell back at him, as much as she may want to. She doesn't have the energy for that. Even if she did, she doesn't think her throat could handle it. And this is not the right place for this conversation.

Instead, she looks at him, head cocked slightly to the side, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You know, if this had been anyone else, you would not have spoken to them the way you just spoke to me," she says, with as much force as she can muster. It's not a lot, but it's surprisingly more than she thought possible at this moment. "You would have been singing their praises. Commending them for helping so many people, a job well done."

"Sylvie-"

"Go. There are still people inside. You have a job to do, Casey."

He looks confused for a split second before composing himself. She doesn't have a chance to dwell on it. She's pulled away to be looked at by the medics from ambulance ninety.

Suddenly, everything shifts back to the way it always is. Sylvie, at the ambo, watching Matt anxiously, as he runs into a burning building.

... ... ...

One of these days, Matt thinks, Sylvie Brett is going to be the death of him.

Maybe he'd lost it a little back at the scene. Spoke to her in a way that he shouldn't.

When they'd arrived and found sixty-one already on scene, he didn't think too much of it. It wasn't all that uncommon for the ambo to beat them to the scene, especially when coming straight from another call.

But when they exited the truck and neither Sylvie nor Violet were anywhere to be seen, a resident informed them the paramedics in question were inside, helping to evacuate everyone.

Sylvie was inside the burning building.

He'd just been about to run in after her when she exited the building, coughing and sputtering, covered head to toe in black soot.

All the blood rushed from his face, and his heart pounded in his chest so hard he felt it might explode.

He saw nothing but her, rushed straight to her, not entirely in control of his actions. He'd shouted at her, and he shouldn't have.

She'd looked at him with hurt in her eyes and calmly told him that if it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have spoken to them that way.

He thinks that look hurt more than if she had just yelled back. Because he knows she's right. Fucking, of course, she is. She's always been able to see right through him.

Seeing her standing there, covered in ash, terrified him. He could have lost her.

He'd flashed back to a time years ago, the only other time he's seen her like that. The Arnow fire. Where they'd lost Otis. Where he'd almost lost her. Had lost her, for a time, though only temporarily.

Then she was dragged away, and he had a job to do. He needed to focus. His people could get hurt if the task at hand didn't have his total concentration.

He thinks Sylvie's been avoiding him - he doesn't blame her because the next time he sees her, it's almost the end of shift. Eighty-one had two more calls after the apartment fire. Sixty-one had five.

Sylvie and Violet refused to take Sixty-one out of service. And he had to bite his tongue. As hard as it was.

They always just seemed to be passing each other. Never in the same place at the same time. As if some invisible force was working to keep them apart. It's killing him.

He finds her by their lockers. Her shoulders tense when she senses his presence. Imperceptible to anyone else. But not to him. Never to him.

He's explored and learned every inch of her body these last three months. Even the slightest change does not go unnoticed.

He steps further into the locker room. By some miracle, they're alone.

"I'm sorry," he says, quiet and all sincere. It never should have taken him this long to say the words. This is their first fight. If he can even call it that.

He'd been an ass. He knows he's going to have to grovel to make it right again.

He sees her shoulders shift, relax slightly as the tension ebbs away. Sylvie turns, leans against the open door of her locker to look at him. She gives him that same sad smile again. Not unlike the look she gave him last night. His chest aches.

"I'm sorry," she says as well, and she means it. From the way she says it, he knows she's not apologizing for running into a burning building. No, he gives her a soft smile, she'll never apologize for that. He doesn't expect her to either. Instead, she's apologizing for the scare she gave him.

He closes the distance between them, reaches out, and pulls her to him. She lets him, allows herself to melt into him. Her head rests against his shoulder, her arms wrap around his waist.

He's got one hand on her back, pulls her as close as physically possible. The other weaves into her hair, twists the blonde locks between his fingers.

They stand there, alone, not saying anything, holding each other tight. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against his as she breathes is a reminder that she's here and she's safe; nothing happened to her. It comforts him.

Sylvie is the first to break the silence. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you it won't ever happen again," she murmurs against his chest.

He huffs, lets out a quiet chuckle, strokes his hand through her hair again. "I know."

Selfishly, he'd love for her to tell him that. But given the chance, he knows she wouldn't change anything that happened on the call. And if it came down to it, she'd do it all over again, without giving it a second thought.

He's watched her do this job for years. She's always given so much of herself over to the job. He's always admired that about her. He wouldn't want that to change just because of him.

"It's just," he breathes, lips pressed into her hair, "the thought of losing you scares me." His voice is rough, shakier than he intends it to be.

Sylvie leans back to look him in the eye. Moving her hand up his side to his face, she caresses his cheek. He leans into her hand, closes his eyes.

"I know," she tells him. "Because that's exactly how I feel every time I have to watch you run into a fire."

"Sylvie, that's-"

"Don't." She cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head. "Don't say it's different. It's not. At least it doesn't feel like it is."

He stops, clamps his mouth shut. He's been on the job for so long now that it's really just become routine at this point. Stupidly, he's never really thought about it from Sylvie's perspective. That she might feel the same terror he did.

He takes her face between his hands, kisses her forehead, cheeks, peppers kisses everywhere until she laughs and smiles back at him. Then he stops, looks around the locker room, checking they're still alone, and captures her lips with his.

He wouldn't normally do this, not so out in the open at least. They try to keep their relationship strictly professional while they're in the common areas of the firehouse. But after the shift they've just had, he doesn't give a shit who sees.

Sylvie smiles, breathes a contented sigh against his lips, relaxes further into him. She breaks the kiss a second later.

"You're a bit needy, you know that," she says, with a teasing lilt, tries to break the tension.

It works. He laughs. A loud, genuine belly laugh. The first in hours. He plants another kiss against her lips, pulls her back against him.

"Can you blame me?"

[safertokiss]

Lost in Translation

A/N: Heyyyyy guys...remember when I used to post like every two weeks? Yeesh that’s awkward...but I’m backkkkk woooooooo party time! I was so excited that my discord buddies organized another fic swap because it was so much fun the first time. This time around I was chosen to write a doozy for the wonderful @writing-in-april and I have decided to bless you all with a beautiful subby boy. Sub Spencer lives in my head rent free, no cap. So sit back, relax and pretend it's you getting fricken railed. Peace out girl scouts;)

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT hehe oh yeah and fluff

Word Count: 4.8k

ENJOY:)

~~~

MASTERLIST

~~~

For as long as she could remember, Y/n had always wanted to learn Russian.

So, naturally, when she found out that their newest case involved two lovers who also happened to be Russian criminals trying to escape the United States government, she simply couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity to become more involved in the investigation. 

It’s not that she’d never been on a stakeout for the Bureau before, in fact she’d probably been on so many at this point that she’d lost count. The only difference that this specific stakeout brought to her life was the fact that it was her first one to have ever been shared with Spencer Reid.

Her and the young doctor had lived in the same apartment building since her first day at the BAU, but their relationship pretty much began and ended at that. Of course they greeted each other whenever they passed in the halls of their building and ricocheted off of each other’s theories whenever necessary during their meetings in the round table room, but it would be a lie to label their relationship as anything other than casual acquaintances as well as amicable coworkers. 

She had never been able to fully get a grasp on the elusive Dr. Reid. The fact that he was already such an integral member of the F.B.I. at the ripe age of 25 astounded and, well to be honest, perplexed her. Not that she doubted his abilities or intelligence in any way, quite the opposite really. She admired how utterly brilliant he proved to be day in and day out, even with the shy exterior he presented himself with to the world. Well, shy was definitely more of an understatement. 

She had never met someone more socially awkward in her entire life, but with that being said, she couldn’t help but find it endearing and pretty dang adorable. Y/n constantly found herself enjoying his pathetic attempts at human interaction on a daily basis. From the nervous stutters to the out of this world hand gestures, there was much for her to dissect about the young doctor. And while she could openly admit that he was quite easy on the eyes, in a boyish-innocent kind of way, she had never really been able to see him in that sort of light.

If she thought his normal social interaction skills were entertaining to witness, his reactions to any of the conversations that took a more raunchy turn were to die for. The speed at which his features would ripen red like a tomato whenever anything of a sexual nature was brought up during cases was truly amazing, impressive even. However, unlike the rest of their team, she knew he wasn’t completely innocent. The walls in their apartment were as good as paper when it came to thickness, so it wasn’t that big surprise that the sounds created within them carried fairly well. 

Or at least that was what she had discovered after the first night she heard him touching himself just through her bedroom wall. 

Yes, it was less than ideal that their bedroom walls just happened to be adjacent to each other, but what could she do about it? It wasn’t as though she never sought out her own pleasure while alone in her apartment...although she would bet money that she was much better at withholding her noises. Instead, she learned to adapt to the sounds from next door and continue on with her life, having accepted that guys will in fact be dudes, no matter how innocent and meek they may appear.

When her boss had explained the nature of the assignment to them, there wasn’t anything of significance that had jumped out at her. It was all pretty standard instruction. They would wait, parked, in a government issued SUV overnight at a location close to the whereabouts of the criminals and simply translate their conversations using the mics that were planted prior. While Hotch knew that Y/n herself couldn’t understand Russian, it was common knowledge that the resident genius easily could transcribe the language.

And that was how she found herself cramped next to Spencer Reid in the stagnant vehicle, pen and paper in hand, patiently waiting for the translations to begin. 

It was almost completely silent inside the car, apart from the quiet whirring of the heat coming through the vents, and she could basically feel the nerves coming off of the man next to her in waves. That’s why she was completely thrown off her game when his timid voice was the first to break through the silence that had encompassed the space they inhabited together.

“So um Y/n..h-how have you been recently?”

She did her best to hide the small smirk that started to form on her face from the stuttering mess that spilled out of his mouth. She definitely didn’t want to make him feel even worse about himself so she decided to humour his adorable attempt at conversation with her...well...sort of.

“Oh ya know Reid, just counting the days until I get some action. How about you?” If she  thought he was sputtering nervously before, that was nothing compared to this treasure.

“Oh um well uh I-I mean...I don-I don’t...uh...w-what was the question a-again?”

This time she couldn’t stop the airy chuckle that escaped her lips as she leaned over and patted him gently on his thigh.

“Relax Reid, I’m just fucking around with you. Well for the most part...I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to some action, but that’s a whole can of worms I am not about to open during a stakeout”, Y/n laughed, not at all missing the steadily spreading blush that coated his sharp features.

“Yeah...no..yeah right of course...I t-totally knew you were just um fu-messing with me! Uh we should probably um r-review our assignment...you know just so we’re all s-set before we start.” How adorable.

“Aye-aye captain Reid. Ok so..”, she muttered while fiddling with the listening device to secure the right frequency. “...we just have to wait until they get back so we’re in range of their conversations. That’s when you’ll have your time to shine and prove yourself as the resident genius once again. And I’m sure that you’re aware that I don’t know a lick of the Russian language so I will be the best damn transcriber for you that the world has ever seen”, she finished with a smirk. 

Even Reid chuckled a bit at her words, the ever-present blush slowly creeping back upon his face and neck. 

“I’ll uh-I’ll hold you to that then.” Y/n had to admit she particularly liked to see the boy smiling, especially when it was the result of her own words. His innocence seemed to call out to her like a siren and she didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Oh-oh there they are! Ok get the pen and paper ready because as soon as they’re in range I’ll start translating.”

Getting themselves situated, they waited the few seconds it took for the couple to get close enough to the vicinity of the SUV for their conversations to begin to be broadcasted through their system.

“Как вы думаете, они идут по нашему следу?”

“Do you think they’re on our trail?”, Spencer easily understands, leaning slightly closer to her so his words were clearly heard.

“Ни за что. У этих глупых американцев нет шансов поймать нас.”

“No way. Those stupid Americans don’t stand a chance at catching us.”

At this point, the couple had already disappeared behind the door at the entrance of their current base, leaving only their words to give the closely listening agents much needed context clues.

“Я когда-нибудь говорил тебе, как сильно мне нравится твоя уверенность?”

“Have I ever told you how much I love your confidence?” 

Even Spencer let himself smile at the chuckle that left Y/n’s lips. “Awww how cute...they’re flirting with each other over mass murder. I strive for that kind of intimacy.”

“Да у тебя есть. Но почему бы тебе не показать мне, насколько тебе это нравится.”

“Yes, you have. But why don’t you show me just how much you love it.”

Uh oh, Y/n thought to herself. Not a second after the untimely thought permeated her brain, the sounds of wet lips sloppily colliding against each other filled the otherwise silent vehicle. After the few seconds of shock wore off, their heads whipped to face each other, eyes wide and mouths wide open. “Huh...well this was certainly an unexpected turn.”

“I uh um-uh well w-what do we do now?”, Tomato Boy nervously sputtered out over the chorus of moans and groans that were currently bouncing off the SUV’s walls. As unexpected as the present situation was, she was absolutely eating up his reaction to the crude sounds.

“Well, Hotch did say he wanted us to take down every single word that was shared between them so...I guess we’re just gonna have to keep moving forward with the translations. You can do that, can’t you Reid?”, she explained, not even attempting to hide the growing smirk on her face.

“Yeah! Yes! Mhmm I can do that, I c-can definitely do t-that.”, he gushed, trying to subtly clear his throat to clear the steadily growing tension in his body.

“Good to hear, Doc.”, she cheekily replied just as the raunchy sounds echoing through the system transitioned to different methods of communication, more legible ones.

“Ты была для меня такой хорошей девочкой. Я думаю, ты заслуживаешь награды.”

Quickly clearing his throat once more, he jumped back into action, with what Y/n noticed was considerably less confidence than before. “You’ve b-been such a good g-girl for me. I think you deserve a r-reward.” Spencer’s voice had noticeably dropped to a whisper by the end of the sentence, forcing Y/n to lean closer to be able to hear his translations, only magnifying the already present tension in the air. 

“Пожалуйста, папа, я сделаю что угодно.”

“P-please daddy.” His voice broke at the end igniting something deep inside Y/n’s being. “I’ll do anything.” In that moment she truly believed he would do anything, his own words or not, based on the obvious strain in his pants that her eyes glanced over, and also by the way his skin completely succumbed to goosebumps as her warm breath caressed the shell of his ear. She didn’t really know what the hell was happening, why her body was absolutely loving the way he gradually leaned into her’s, submitting all of his vulnerabilities into her hands. 

“Тебе это нравится, не так ли, маленькая шлюшка. Как член папы глубоко внутри тебя?”

She watched the way he inhaled a deep breath and released a high-pitched sigh before continuing on, subtly pressing her legs together to control the excitement thrumming through her body at his pathetic tone and mannerisms. 

“You like t-that don’t you, you little-uh-you little s-slut?” From their close proximity, she could clearly make out the speedy heartbeat clambering against his chest as he spoke. And if that was the case, he must’ve been able to feel hers as well. “Like daddy’s c-cock deep inside of y-you?” She could’ve sworn she saw his dick twitch slightly in his pants.

“Маленькая шлюшка уже придет за мной? Тогда умоляйте об этом. Бля, умоляю позволить тебе кончить.”

Y/n certainly did not miss the airy sigh that escaped his lips, watching as a bead of sweat dripped down his temple, confidently guessing it was not from the heat that had been coming through the vents.

“Is the little-little s-slut gonna come for me already? B-beg for it then. Fucking beg f-for me to let you c-come.” Spencer was speedily falling apart at the seams and she was loving it. More than loving it. She was craving it. Craving the little noises that he was trying to stop from escaping his lips. Craving the way he slightly bounced his leg in an attempt to control his arousal, which was futile because it had obviously already reached its full potential in the confines of his khaki slacks. 

“Пожалуйста, папа. Пожалуйста, позволь мне прийти. Мне это надо. Пожалуйста.”

Without even hearing the words translated back to her, she could hear the utter desperation in the girl’s voice. She no longer needed to understand the Russian language to be able to finish the translation, and as she sat there with her thighs tightly pressed together, she knew exactly what it meant.

“Please!” The utter need that was present in the original audio was somehow mirrored perfectly by the young doctor’s breathy voice, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, a prominent vein popping through the skin of his smooth forehead. “Please, p-please, please let me come. I n-need it. Please!”

“Приди за мной, детка.”

Deciding that she could regret her actions in the morning, Y/n quickly grabbed his face before he could translate, angling his head so she could whisper directly into his ear at the same time he spoke the last line of the night.

“Come for me baby.”, they both spoke at the exact same time.

Pulling away as fast as possible, she watched his clamped eyes shoot open as the most obnoxiously loud moan she had ever heard escaped the poor kid, his whole body spasming as a result. And using the large stain on the crotch of his pants as a guide, she was pretty certain she knew what had happened.

For the next few minutes there was silence in the SUV, apart from Spencer’s heavy breathing as he came down of course, leading them to believe the couple had fallen asleep after their...activities. Of course she wanted nothing more than to tease the trembling mess next to her, but she could already tell he was mortified beyond belief because of what happened so she didn’t want to make it any worse for him than it already was. 

After waiting a few extra minutes just to make sure that they had actually gone to sleep, the pair drove away from the stakeout location, Spencer not having said a word since his...big finish. As much as she loved watching him fall apart in front of her, she really didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable around her. 

“Well that was certainly an unexpected turn of events for the night, huh?”, she said, lightly chuckling with the intent of lightening his mood. She was very glad to see it had the intended effect.

“Uh y-yeah...you could definitely say that again.”, he mumbled with the ghost of a smile on his plump lips, though she could still clearly make out the blush coating his features.

“So hey, I know that you usually take the metro, but I’d be more than happy to give you a ride home after we drop the SUV off at the office if you want.”, she warmly smiled in his direction without taking her eyes completely off the road.

“Oh um..yeah that would be perfect. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it Reid.”

~~~

The rest of the ride back to the office was pretty much spent in silence, but it was much more comfortable than it had been before, which was a huge relief. After dropping the keys to the SUV in the lock box inside, the two agents piled into Y/n’s car to go back home to their shared building. On their way back she considered just asking him if he wanted to ride with her everyday just to make his life a little easier in the long run.

Once they got to the parking lot and exited the vehicle, they began walking towards the entrance together, the awkward tension from before creeping back into the air around them. Soon enough, they found themselves standing in front of their respective doors, both unsure of how they were supposed to end the night’s interactions. After a few moments of painful silence and eye contact, Y/n was the first one to rip off the band-aid.

“So...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Reid?” He seemed to be broken out of his trance by the sound of her voice, snapping back to attention.

“Huh? Oh yeah uh yes of course. S-see you tomorrow Y/n. Goodnight.” He scampered into his apartment before she could even get a chance to respond to his bidding.

“Goodnight.”, she whispered to no one other than herself as she unlocked her door and headed inside to shower quickly before diving into her soft sheets.

She was sitting up in her bed, book in hand, with only the small glow of her reading lamp illuminating her room when she heard it. Of course she knew immediately what they were, a talent that had developed and strengthened from living adjacent to a pretty much pubescent boy.

The tell-tale sound of moans and groans vibrating right through her wall.

She knew she probably shouldn’t be listening, something about a violation of privacy or whatever, but she just couldn’t help it. He sounded so desperate it was driving her insane. So much in fact that she was in the process of skimming her own hand downwards when she was interrupted by a certain something from the Doc’s room.

“Y/n! Oh god, please. Please.”

Oh. Oh.

Not even giving herself a second to consider her actions, she was up on her feet basically sprinting to his door, pajamas and all. Not even bothering with knocking, she noticed it was unlocked and let herself in, beelining for what she assumed was his bedroom by the increasing volume as she approached it. Standing in his doorframe, she was utterly mesmerized. There he was, sprawled across his sheets, completely bare with sweat coating his hair as he rapidly pumped his angry, red cock, her name tumbling from his lips like a chant.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” She smirked as she watched his head shoot up to where she was standing, his hand immediately stilling it’s rapid movements. Watching the panic spread on his face was intoxicating to her as she slowly approached his bed.

“Y/n! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I uh-I didn’t um...” His words trailed off and his eyes widened as he watched her slowly begin removing her clothes as she moved closer to him. 

“Shhhhhh.” She managed to remove both her shirt and pajama pants in the short trip over to his bed and she had no intention of stopping there. Now standing directly in front of him, she let her eyes wander over his still frame completely, soaking in the amazement in his dark eyes and the slight tremble that was periodically rippling through his body. Maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it pool on the floor next to her.

It was honestly shocking his eyes didn’t actually fall onto the floor with how far they bulged out of their sockets, a small moan leaving his mouth. 

She giggled at his enthusiasm before bringing her soft hands up to caress his face gently, his body shuddering at the contact. “Do you want me to keep going baby boy?” Taking a second to process the question that had left her lips, he slowly nodded while looking her in the eyes, his own full of awe. 

Happy with his answer, she reached for the edge of her panties before pushing them down to join the other pieces of clothing already inhabiting his floor. Spencer couldn’t speak. He could barely even breathe. Five minutes ago he had been jerking off to his neighbor, who also happened to be his coworker, and now said neighbor was crawling onto his bed, completely naked, with a wicked smirk on her face.

Straddling his lap, but making sure that there was no actual contact, she reached up to cup his face again, slowly rubbing circles into his defined cheekbone. “Is this ok baby boy? Is this what you want?”, she cooed. 

Spencer looked like he honestly might cry from the pure compassion laced within her words, but still found a way to nervously nod his head in affirmation of her questions. With a warm smile on her face, she leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on his lower jaw before continuing up the side of his face, basking in the small whimpers that fell from his pretty lips. Finally reaching his ear, she let her warm breath tease him before proceeding. 

“Do you want me to take control of you? Is that what you want sweet boy?” While the whine that immediately escaped him was answer enough, she pulled back searching for a more concrete answer to her question. “Hmmmm, you’d like that?” 

“Yes.”, he whispered, nodding his head anxiously. 

While he was answering she had leaned back towards his face, placing soft kisses all over. “As you wish baby boy.”, she whispered, changing course to attack his neck with her eager lips as soon the words left her mouth. Spencer gasped instantly and she couldn’t help but smirk against his pale flesh, increasing the pressure in which she was assaulting his neck.

Through the groans that spilled past his lips, she was able to make out his pathetic attempt at words, not slowing down her lips at all. “J-just make sure not to leave any m-marks. We’ll g-get in trouble at w-work.” Of course Spencer would be the only person on the planet to remember their office guidelines while getting his neck sucked like a vampire.

“No marks...that’ll be difficult. I want everyone to know just how thoroughly I fucked you.”

Feeling extremely satisfied by his enthusiastic response to her vulgar words, she slowly lowered herself down his body, pausing with her mouth right above his groin. Somehow the poor kid already looked completely fucked out and she hadn’t even done anything yet. Hearing him wince as she gently grasped and started stroking his cock, she knew this was gonna be fun.

Staring directly into her eyes, he watched the string of spit leave her mouth and drip directly onto his dick, eyes bulging at her bold actions, still in shock that any of this was actually happening. 

Entranced by the way his chest expanded rapidly as he watched her curiously, she leaned forward and licked the tip, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him. “I’m gonna suck your cock...but only because I want to see if you can not be a spaz about getting head from me.” Her words made Spencer whimper and she smirked as she took him fully into her mouth, soaking in his pretty noises. 

Y/n had only been going for a minute or two when she heard his groans get louder and felt him twitch in her mouth. Pulling off of him with a pop, she hummed at the sight of the completely wrecked boy in front of her, panting and shaking adorably. It wasn’t long before the perfect idea infiltrated her head, her body thrumming with anticipation and excitement.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me. I think you deserve a reward.”, she smirked, reciting the words that they had heard verbatim. Seemingly catching on to what she was pushing for, he responded accordingly.

“Please Y/n. I’ll do anything.”

She quirked her eyebrow in his direction questioningly, slowly grinding her dripping core against his achingly hard cock. “Anything, baby boy?”

Snapping his heated stare directly to her eyes, he cracked a beautiful smile. “Anything.”

She couldn’t control the grin that overtook her lips as she lowered herself down onto his erection, writhing in pleasure at the feel of him inside of her and the sound of his wanton moans. “Good boy.” 

Wanting to give Spencer time to fully adjust and control himself, she started her movements out slow, lifting herself up until only his tip remained inside before dropping down completely into his lap repeatedly. He was a moaning mess on the sheets below her, sweat coating his body along with goosebumps covering every visible expanse of his skin as he panted like a dog. He was so fucking pretty like this. 

Deciding enough was enough, she picked up the pace considerably, bouncing like a mad woman on his dick, while her sharp nails scratched down his creamy, pale chest in front of her, leaving angry, red streaks in their wake. Spencer had devolved into a blubbering mess underneath her and that lit her soul on fire.

“You like that don’t you, you little slut? Like your cock deep inside of me? Huh?” 

Y/n was pretty sure that he was short circuiting below her, his brain cutting off all control over his body as he spasmed uncontrollably and moaned for the entire fucking building to hear. Good, she thought. Let them hear how whipped he was for her. Even though it had only been a few minutes since she increased her speed, she could feel his cock starting to twitch violently inside of her and she knew he was close, really close.

“Is the little slut gonna come for me already?” All he could do was whimper in response, having to nod his head emphatically due to his loss of speech.

“Beg for it then. Fucking beg for me to let you come!” She was on fucking cloud nine right now, floating through the motions, as his whimpers increased in volume and speed. Mustering up all the strength he could, he spit out as many audible words as possible.

“Please! Please, please, please let me come! I need it! Please!” He was crying now, tears rapidly pouring from his eyes and spilling down his cheeks out of sheer desperation and need to release the tension built up within his body.

She was in awe of him. As she watched the tears pour down his face, she couldn’t help but whimper too. Desperately needing to finish, herself, she brought one hand down to make circles around her clit, while the other she brought up to wrap gently around his flushed throat, leaning over to whisper in his ear like she had earlier that night.

“Come for me, baby.”

She once again pulled back to witness his reactions to her hushed words, the outcome only more amazing than before. She watched as his eyes rolled back as far they could possibly go into his head as his mouth dropped open in pure ecstasy, high-pitched whines escaping his lips, his release shooting up into her like it had always belonged there. Maybe it had.

Watching him come undone below her, combined with her hand speedily rubbing circles on her clit, she was catapulted into the most amazing climax of her entire life, her body buzzing with excitement as she tightened around him and collapsed on his chest, weak as could be after that activity.

The pair laid silently, apart from the heaving breaths whirring through the room, still in shock over what had just transpired minutes before. Slowly shifting her eyes to the shivering boy below her, she saw he was caught in a trance, his eyes dazed, a soft grin on his lips. 

Breaking him from his stupor, she gently cupped his cheek with one hand as the other drew lazy circles on his blotchy chest. Rubbing the skin on his face lightly, she leaned forward and kissed his nose, making him scrunch it up and giggle as a result. “Such a sweet boy for me. Such a sweet, sweet boy.” Her words made him melt inside and words tumbled out of his own mouth before he could even think about stopping them.

“Вы красивы внутри и снаружи.”

She looked up at him in shock, before breaking out in giggles. “Did you just serenade me in Russian? How romantic.”, she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

He couldn’t seem to control his giggles either, a fact that warmed her heart. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

Smiling up at the adorable boy she just had to ask. “What does it mean?”

Y/n watched as his signature blush quickly coated his features once again as he looked down at her with a shy smile. “You are beautiful, inside and out.”

With the warmest grin she could muster, she leaned up and kissed his jaw once more before snuggling up against the young doctor who had melted her heart.

Tag List: @hopebaker @pastathighs @psychedellic-phase @gloryekaterina @sleepysnapesnake @racharr @etherealgubler @furiouspartyrebelhoagie @andiebeaword @liaabsurd @cielo1984 @starkeybaby @victomizedbyreginageorge @rainsong01 @moonlight-jukebox @gretaamyk @httpnxtt @rachelxwayne @goldnratio @cheyxminds @kricketc29 @cupcake525 @pinkdiamond1016 @slutforthegubes @shadyladyperfection @emilysallysmith @babblingbrookex @legendaryanimeaestheticclou @sunstspidey @ashwarren32 @pixels-impulse @eviewildflower @spencerreider @awkwardsadaa @dirty-pan-goblin @spencerspecifics

[jungkxook]

—demon-etized. (m)

⟶ pairing: namjoon x reader

⟶ analytics: youtuber!namjoon / ghost-hunters au / smut

⟶ words: 6,260

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ warnings: idiot ghost hunter bts, ghosts making namjoon horny ig?, slight exhibitionism, fondling, fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ description: in this episode of unsolved, namjoon and the boys risk their lives by spending overnight in an abandoned and supposedly haunted asylum in the hopes of finding some ghouls — but the boys are pretty certain the real reason for the spooky moaning isn’t allowed to go on youtube. ***warning: very scary!!!***

⟶ pinned comment: this is part of the not clickbait series!

“Well, this has been fun. Let’s go home now.”

You were starting to think this was a very stupid idea ━ but stupid would be an understatement. The looming asylum standing before you with nothing but the darkened midnight sky in the foreground acts as a foreboding omen that you’ve seen one too many times in pretty much any horror movie. The creepy abandoned estate offering itself up as a seemingly perfect and totally innocent means of adventure for a group of friends only to end in murder or a demon possession should have been enough to scare you all away. Fortunately, you’re not the only somewhat sane person (and you say that very loosely because you did, after all, agree to come with the boys), because you’re both startled yet thoroughly relieved to hear the worried statement coming from a very tense-looking Jimin.

It really was a stupid idea. Spending overnight (which, really, just translates to a few hours and a clickbait-y title for the video) in a supposedly haunted and derelict asylum from the early 1900s offered all sorts of problems that weren’t just supernatural. Squatters, creepy cult members, and risking getting whatever sorts of diseases are riddling the walls of the ancient dwelling were starting to get to you. But it was Namjoon’s idea to come here for his next video upload especially when considering the fact that for the entire month of October he and his group of YouTuber friends host a fan favourite ghost-hunting series titled Unsolved ━ and, whatever Namjoon usually suggests, the boys usually tag along with, no matter how daring or how stupid it may be.

“We literally just got here,” Hoseok retorts as he hops out of one of the two cars you and your friends had shared on the way here. It was a three hour drive from the city with the estate being much larger than you expected it to be, four main buildings sprawling out amongst empty fields. At least the stories of its creepy atmosphere are all the same. Was it the cool autumn breeze sending chills down your spine or something else entirely? The moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed upon the asylum, it was almost as if you could feel something watching you. But that was definitely just you imagining things. “Don’t be a pussy, Jimin. What’s the worst a ghost is gonna do to you? Rattle some chains? Ooooh, spooky.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jimin rounds on the older boy almost immediately, “vaginas are the strongest muscles in female anatomy, so I’m not being a pussy. Let’s get it right, okay? I’m being a little bitch, and I embrace it. Second of all, if a ghost does rattle some chains near me, I will definitely be booking it back to the car and leaving all of you stranded here.”

From beside you, Yoongi snorts amusedly. He’s the resident non-believer amongst your group of friends so you always wonder why he even bothers to come to these things. He says it’s to help filming, but you think he’s banking on maybe one day seeing a ghost even despite all that charade of hostility. Even now, he’s already filming for the vlog, getting shots of the building but also mostly just Jimin and Hoseok’s banter in the background. “If a ghost does anything tonight, I’ll be genuinely surprised.”

“Something is going to happen tonight. I can feel it,” Jungkook says confidently. He’d been huddled over the opened side door of one of the cars with Namjoon and Jin, sifting through their high-tech equipment that you’re certain they just bought off of Amazon or something. “This place is one of the most haunted places near us. Have you even heard the stories? Apparently there are two most popular ghost sightings. One is some girl━”

“Is she hot?” Taehyung asks.

“She’s dead,” Jungkook deadpans. “Also, pretty sure she was eleven when she died from tuberculosis. Anyway, she’s more of a benevolent ghost. They say you can hear her laughing sometimes. There’s a lot of activity in one of the kids’ rooms. And the other sighting is less friendly. They just call it a shadow man because it’s hard to see its face, but you can always see an outline of a person walking by in one of their treatment buildings. There’s even been physical attacks, with one person saying they got scratched by an invisible force.”

Jimin visibly winces. “Sounds very much like a demon than a ghost to me.”

“Sick!” Hoseok exclaims. You’re worried to find that the group’s morale (aside from yours and Jimin’s) isn’t any less vivacious than when Jungkook started his story. “This is gonna be awesome.”

But you can’t help but to roll your eyes, your feigned boredom really just a weak attempt at hiding your own fright. “Oh, shut up. That’s such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Jungkook quirks a brow, challenging you.  

“Well, whatever happens, we’re gonna catch it.” This confident statement comes from Namjoon. After he hands out the pieces of tech to the rest of his friends, he glances upward at the asylum with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s find us some ghosties.”

As the group begins to follow Namjoon towards the nearest building, Taehyung can be heard wolfishly quipping aloud, “Time to rock and roll, ghoul boys! And, er, girl.”

“Don’t call us that,” Yoongi grumbles.

It’s comforting to hear the rest of the group erupt into fits of entertained laughter, but any banter is quick to subside as you walk up to the building. You’re relieved when Jimin decides to hang back with you and doesn’t seem to protest when you start to cling to his arm as you’re all ushered through the main entrance of the building and into utter darkness only broken apart by the dim glow of your flashlights. If you weren’t already so frightened, maybe some of it would be comical, like the way the front doors creak open so very slowly in suspense.

Under Jimin’s breath, you can hear him mumbling in chagrin, “We should have gotten holy water.”

As your eyes adjust to the darkness within, you’re able to make out that the inside is just as horrifying as it was on the outside. Dust and debris hang heavy in the air and on the ground, and almost every inch of any surface within the building is covered in graffiti works of art. 

“Oh, fuck that,” Jin scoffs. “We only just stepped foot into here and this place is already giving me goosebumps.”

“Aw, sweet, bro! Check this out!” Hoseok says abruptly, startling almost all of you. He’s standing a bit further off down one hall, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. As you approach him, you can make out what sort of graffiti marking on the ground has suddenly grabbed his attention. “Who wants to lay on the pentagram with me?”

“No one,” You retort.

“I will!” Jungkook says at once, much to your dismay.

Yoongi lets out an audible strained sigh. “If any of you fucks get possessed and kill me, I’m never gonna forgive any of you. Just letting you know ahead of time.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Hoseok asks. “Come back and haunt us?”

“No, I’ll be dead. Ghosts aren’t real,” Yoongi says. “But I will still be very angry.”

“Noted.”

Before Jungkook or Hoseok can haggle Yoongi into filming them laying on the pentagram drawing and potentially offering their souls up to whatever demon lays waiting beneath it for their souls, the group is moving on. You explore the first bottom half of the building together in a tense silence before making your way up the dilapidated stairs to one of the treatment rooms that Jungkook makes certain to point out is where the infamous shadow figure is often seen. Taehyung decides to suggest, “Should we try the spirit box?”

You almost groan aloud. You fucking hate that thing, for obvious reasons. 

Whether or not you believe in it, the loud gurgling noise is always unsettling and you’re already on edge. Still, you sit back with Jimin as the rest of the boys nod in agreement and fiddle with the piece of tech until it’s been turned on. You’re immediately met with a cacophony of crackling radio static so deafening that your instinctual reaction is to cover your ears. You refrain miraculously, but you still cower in one corner with Jimin as the boys listen intently to the noise.

“Is anyone here?” Namjoon calls out to no one in particular. “If you are, can you give us a sign? Move a chair or say something or push Yoongi━”

“What the━?” Yoongi gawks. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you said you don’t believe in them.”

Yoongi clamps his mouth shut, and nods in a way that admits Namjoon has a point. At that moment, there’s a pique in the static, a jumble of inaudible words that almost sounds humanlike.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks. “Sounded like… It almost sounded like it said ‘leave.’”

“Leave?” Jimin squeaks. “Think we should take that as a sign, guys.”

“Nah, I definitely heard Steve, not leave,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook frowns. “Who the hell is Steve?”

“Maybe that’s his name,” Yoongi suggests nonchalantly. “Be nice.”

After a handful of minutes of even more strained silence, the boys are only able to discern certain words that you’re positive don’t have anything to do with the asylum or ghosts. At long last, they shut the machine off and the room is once more plunged into a formidable silence so dense that you almost miss the spirit box. But almost as soon as the piece of tech has been silenced, does Jimin cry out in pure anguish. “What the fuck was that?”

The boys instantly round on their startled friend who is now cowering behind you. The colour has all but drained from his face, eyes wide in a frenzied panic.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin looks hysterical as he shoves a pointed finger in the direction of the wall opposite the room in the corridor. “I swear on my life I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye over there. Like a-a person o-or something. Looked like a shadow. I don’t know! I thought it was one of you guys━”

“Stop it, Jimin.” Your voice treads on apprehension as you look over at the alarmed boy. “You’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, ease up, Jimin,” Namjoon says, though he seems more entertained than anything. “I’d prefer if you didn’t throw my girlfriend headfirst towards a demon or ghost or whatever it is you saw.”

“Joon.” His name rolls off your tongue in a scolding moan as you rub wearily at your eyes. His words do little to help console you, and you’re certain it fairs even worse for poor Jimin.

“I’m sorry. I just━” Jimin pulls you tighter in front of him. “I swear I saw something. Holy shit.”

Jungkook’s the first one outside the room, his own camera in his hands as he goes to investigate. As the rest of the boys file outside in the corridor, you drag Jimin along with you, favouring not to be alone in any part of the building. You can hardly see anything, let alone a shadow. 

Jungkook turns back around at long last, a devious grin on his face as he finds Jimin’s wandering crazed stare. “Maybe it was the shadow man. Told you he exists.”

“I don’t care what it was. My heart almost fell out of my ass,” Jimin gasps. He clutches at his chest over his heart, for added emphasis. “Let’s get out of here.”

You aren’t quite sure if the boys believe him, but you do notice how quick they are to move on from the room and corridor. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air that makes you realize perhaps the boys are starting to lose their cool under pressure. 

As you reconvene below on the main floor of the building, Namjoon pipes up. “Let’s split up. See if we can find anything on our own.”

“Okay, Scooby Doo,” Jin snorts. “You do know that this is how every horror movie begins, right? There’s power in numbers.”

“Yeah. Which is what we’ll all be saying when this video reaches trending on YouTube with a million views,” Namjoon says, matter-of-fact. “Which we can only do if we get some interesting content. So, let’s split up into pairs of two. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“We could just fake it,” Jimin suggests desperately. “Like every big YouTuber does. The magic of editing, guys.” But no one seems to be listening anymore as the group begins to splinter off. Yoongi and Jungkook decide to venture back upstairs in pursuit of the elusive and supposed shadow man, while Hoseok and Taehyung wander outside. Lost and dumbfounded, Jimin gawks around at his retreating friends, calling out in one last effort, “Anyone? …No? Okay, cool.”

He nearly lets out a yelp when Jin clasps a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “You’ll be okay, Jimin. C’mon, let’s go.”

Finally alone with Namjoon, he offers up his outstretched hand to you. You take it at once, gripping his palm a little tighter than necessary as he pulls you towards him. 

“You doing okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” You lie, even though you know he can see right through it. 

You’re content to find that he at least keeps your hand in his even as he tugs you along with him to explore the rest of the asylum. You decide to leave the building you’re both in and wander to another one where you stumble upon Hoseok and Taehyung on the main floor briefly. Then, making your way upstairs, you find nothing out of the ordinary but empty rooms that you suspect were once upon a time sleeping quarters for the patients. It’s less frightening than the other buildings, though still a little unnerving the longer you stay to explore. You climb the stairs until you’re on the third landing and inspect almost every room to find nothing. 

At some point, you let out a wavering sigh. Namjoon is busy waving around an EMF reader in a room. It’s empty aside from a dusty cot and a broken wardrobe, amongst a few other oddities covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dirt. You could have sworn you’ve heard footsteps in almost every room you’ve entered that wasn’t either yours or Namjoons, and the strange sensation that you’re being followed hasn’t been able to shake from you. “Joon? Can we go back now? I’m starting to get a little spooked.”

Namjoon comes to a halt at once, turning around to face you. He gives your palm a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t mean to sound like Yoongi but I highly doubt we have to worry about any ghosts.”

“Well, what do you think Jimin saw?”

“Who knows?” Namjoon shrugs. “It was probably just his imagination. Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, doesn’t it? Here, let’s talk about something else to distract you.”

“Like?”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as Namjoon considers another thought. You don’t even realize the smug smirk unfurling on his face until it’s too late. “Well… I had an idea earlier. Just a passing thought, really, but I bet it’d be fun anyway.”

“What was it?”

“We could probably have a quickie in one of these rooms and the boys would never know any different.”

You nearly choke at this, sputtering for air as you reach out to flick Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” You admit sheepishly. He places his hands on your hips then, pulling you delicately towards him in a manner that makes it hard to focus now. “But I don’t know how I feel about ghosts watching us. Also, the couple that has sex in any horror movie usually ends up dying first.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you, albeit a little amused at your worrisome thoughts. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. At least not while I’m here.”

“Coming from the man who tripped going up the stairs at your dorm the other day,” You point out tauntingly. The distant reminder and the sound of his abrupt laughter is enough to momentarily soothe your hammering heart. 

Namjoon gasps, feigning a look of mock hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Means I love you very much but I don’t know how well you’d fair against ghosts or demons.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.” 

He sounds mildly offended and pokes his fingers at your sides but, in the ensuing scuffle to flee from his grasp, the both of you trip and fumble until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, the sound of your snickers like music to his ears. He comes colliding against your front, hands digging into your hips. He leans forward to kiss your lips slowly, feeling you smile against him. A delightful chuckle bubbles at your mouth and he parts from you in the next moment wiggling his brows suggestively while a teasing smirk stretches at his face so wide, his dimples start to poke through.

“Wanna?” he asks. 

It’s a simple question, weighing heavy with dirty implications ━ and honestly? You’re kind of into it. Or maybe that’s just because he returns to kissing at your lips, only this time at the corners of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. Tantalizing motions that seem to make your head spin violently. Your head lolls back against the wall behind you as he droops his head to your neck, lips meeting with the soft flesh of your throat to suck a delicate blossoming hickey there.

“Okay,” You rasp, “so maybe we can spare some time for this.”

“Ah, so now you’re interested.” His voice is huskier now, muffled by the way he busies himself by nipping at the same spot on your throat. He hears your breath hitch, feels the way you part your legs just slightly enough to have him sink further against you. He marvels at your decision in the morning to throw on a skirt and a pair of thick wool tights. At the time, you had said it was because the weather wasn’t too brisk outside just yet; now, he was thanking you silently for unknowingly picking just the right outfit for the occasion. 

“Namjoon…” Your voice is strained now, a mix between a plea and a whine and he grunts against your neck.

It takes Namjoon a moment to rack his brain, realizing that he finds it hard to even form a proper sentence anymore. “Don’t even need to feel my dick in you. Just wanna get you off, baby. Can I?”

You’re already practically drooling. “Think the boys will notice if we’re gone a little longer?” 

“Who cares?” Namjoon quips. “Jimin’ll probably think we got possessed and lost in the demon world or something.”

You giggle, though your voice splinters off into a soft moan as he continues to nip and suck at your neck. His hand falls to your thighs then, fingers brushing upward faintly until he meets the short hem of your skirt before disappearing beneath it. His hand comes to grasp at the delicate curve of your ass, his palm hot and firm against your soft flesh. 

He groans into your neck. “Been dying all night to touch you.”

“Then don’t stop.”

If the way his hardening cock now forms against your inner thigh any inclination, you don’t think he has plans on doing so. Instead, you watch as he lifts his free hand to your mouth, fingers tapping at your lips in a wordless motion. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, lips parting just enough to wrap around his two fingers. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as you suck at his digits, tongue laving against the sturdy form in your mouth until his fingers are coated thick with your saliva. His other hand, still attached to the rump of your ass, moves like water over your skin to your thigh once more, nudging you aside just enough, pinching delicately at the skin there; he pulls his fingers from your mouth then, then lets the same hand venture under your skirt in a similar fashion. He wastes no time in pushing aside the material of your panties, pressing his digits at your core, watchful eyes staying fixated on yours if only to watch your every expression. His dampened fingers slide over your folds, spreading them open, running across them, admiring the way your stickiness already forms between your legs. 

“Joon…” You cling to him tighter, both to steady yourself against the sudden ministrations and to shield yourself more from view, though you’re certain there’s a slim chance the boys will come across you and Namjoon like this. You hope.

Namjoon’s fingers slip past your folds then, slow and steady as he feels the tight constricting walls of your cunt. You throb around him, thinking only of his cock, imagining the girth of it fitting snug deep within you. The similar stretch of your walls, the fluid motion of his length burrowing in and out of you, wrecking you into shambles. Now, Namjoon wriggles his fingers upward, scratching at a spot within you that has you writhing against him, the slick wetness of your arousal sufficiently coating his fingers. His thumb finds your clit then, running small circles against the small bundle of nerves.

“So wet,” Namjoon moans, resting his forehead against yours. He notes the way your teeth sink into your lower lip, and pulls his free hand out from under your skirt to tap his fingers against your chin. “Gonna moan for me, baby? Let the boys hear you? Maybe wake the dead?”

“You’re such a brat,” You simper through a shuddering breath, and if you weren’t so consumed by him then maybe you would have laughed at the joke he manages to squeeze in at the last moment. But he’s not wrong. What’s the point in keeping silent in an abandoned building that you’re positive only you and your friends are currently occupying? How much longer do you expect to keep quiet, when the way he’s making you feel begins to slowly burn at your insides? 

He curls his fingers deep in you, and your jaw unhinges in a silent gap. You wonder how long you can last, face burning with every passing second as he fingers you closer and closer to your high. Your hips jut outward to meet his hand with every motion, grinding against his knuckles in a desperate need to get off. You’re shameless about it too, fingers gripping his shirt tightly, brows scrunched together in hardened dedication. 

“Such a pretty little mess,” Namjoon hums. “Want you to cum on my hand, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Namjoon━” You whimper now, head lulling back as he twists his fingers further in you. 

But, as soon as you do so, the echoing sound of footsteps has your eyes darting to the darkened corridor. You make out the sound of oblivious chatter, and the familiar voices of Taehyung and Hoseok echoing from somewhere down below. They must be two floors down, though you can hear them screaming at nothing in particular, except for a string of profanities that meet your ears.

“Jesus, fuck!” That definitely sounds like Taehyung, voice shrill with worry. 

“Chill!” There’s Hoseok, but you think he was also screaming moments ago with Taehyung. “It’s just a spider.”

“I don’t care! Get it off of me!”

“Bunch of dumbasses,” Namjoon shakes his head rigidly, a fleeting grin forming on his face that is quick to fade as he curls his fingers upwards further into you. And, while your attention is somewhat fixated on the boys, you find yourself treading a fine line of not giving a fuck as Namjoon’s fingers stay buried deep within your cunt. Still, Namjoon can sense the slight urgency in your demeanor when your hands wind around his neck to tug at his hair, as if to gesture to the strangers that he already knows are nearby. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing so good, love.”

He slows his fingers almost to a halt as you burrow your face in the crook of his neck. Your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and he adds a third finger to stretch you out just enough in a teasing leisure manner. He does it on purpose too, this much you know for certain, as he pinches playfully at your waist. It’s lewd, the idea of him fingering you out in public like this but the emboldened adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t want him to stop. By now, your high overwhelms everything else, causing you to writhe against Namjoon as he cradles you to him. You cum moments later, your orgasm overcoming you before you can sense it, trembling beneath his hands as he continues to finger you through it. Warm, wet arousal leaks from your core, coats his fingers all over as a punctuating whimper of his name tumbles from your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he says gently. “Let everyone hear how dirty you are. Let it all out.”

Your thighs shake, squeezing shut around his hand, and all he can do is rub soothing circles into your hips with his free hand. He waits for your breath to steady, as the coil in your belly loosens, instead taking the time to admire you to your fullest, drunken hooded eyes glazed over in that perfect expression he loves.

“Want your cock in me now, Joon,” You whine breathlessly. The whining persistence in your voice excites Namjoon, only amplified tenfold by the way you begin nipping and sucking at his neck. 

“Now?” he asks.

“Now.”

Almost instantly, there’s a noticeable shift in his expression, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his mouth. You smother the rest of it before it can become too smug, folding your lips over his. Still, he hums through your eager kissing, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this, love? Take you raw against this wall, right here, right now?”

“Yes, please,” You mewl. Growing restless, you beg silently, “Namjoon.”

“Better make it quick then, hm?” 

You can only nod, still in a daze from the orgasm that still courses through your veins. Namjoon’s quick to oblige, pulling his hands from your heat and wiping your slick wetness off on his thigh. Clumsy hands between the both of you fumble to undo the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them just enough to free his straining cock from within. He wedges himself between your legs, hiking your skirt farther up your thighs, and he hurries to free his length from its confinements, wild locks spilling out onto his forehead and into your own line of sight. You push his hair up and away from his face, though your fingers grip suddenly at the roots of his locks when he grips your thigh and hoists it up to his hip, and then pushes himself into you at once, the tip of his warm cock easily coaxed by your already wet walls. He moans into your neck but muffles it halfheartedly by kissing along your throat.

“Easy there, boy,” You snicker, though your own words are a weak drunken slur, drowning out into a muffled whimper as he thrusts himself into you all the way. His hips meet yours roughly, grinding against you as your walls stretch around his throbbing cock.

“I’m needy,” he whines. “Just wanna feel you around me.”

He wastes no time in moving again, pulling his hips back only to thrust into you, adopting a steady fluid pace in such a way that has your head lolling back against the wall, and your mouth popping open in a silent moan as you shift beneath him. The wall of the building behind you is rough and jagged but you don’t feel it, not with the way he continues to thrust into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, stretching you apart in such a way that has him pummeling his length into your core just right. 

“Fuck,” he grunts into your neck. Impatient hands move to yank your shirt up to your chest, pulling your bra down just enough for your breasts to pop out. He moves to leave a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and sucking harshly at it. The new sensation has your own walls clenching around him, and he almost comes undone then. Against your chest, you can hear him murmur breathlessly, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Mmm,” You tug harshly at the roots of his hair. An unabashedly loud moan nearly tumbles from your lips before you can bite it back. Elsewhere, you can hear the sound of faint footsteps once more in the far distance, Taehyung and Hoseok much closer this time (quite possibly on the same floor as you, but the opposite end), but you don’t seem to care much anymore about the potentiality of being caught. “Fuck, Namjoon━”

“You like being fucked like this?” he rasps. “Out in public, for anyone to see?”

You feebly muster a nod, lips parting in a silent moan safe for the sound of your hot panting in his ear. Hurried yet deep shuddering strokes, he fucks into you again and again until your head is spinning. Every thrust sends a jolt up your spine and, still riddled by your first high, your body is quick to turn into shambles beneath him. Your hands flail outward to grasp onto every inch of his body, hands slithering beneath the material of his shirt, fingernails to dig crescent shapes into his torso, then snaking downward to grasp at his bum, pulling him in closer each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Joon…” Your voice is an exhausted moan when it meets his ear. He almost doesn’t hear it, instead too caught up in the way your panting breaths mingle with the crude wetness of his cock delving past your folds each time. Somewhere, once more, in the distance even closer this time is the sound of footsteps once more. The thought of someone walking in one you like this━Namjoon wedged between your thighs, drilling his leaking cock into your wet cunt and tearing you to utter shambles━does something chaotically good to you. “Not gonna last.”

“Me neither,” he gasps. “Don’t care. Just wanna cum. Just wanna feel you cum around me.”

His thrusts begin to tread into sloppy territory, fervently itching to get both of you off. You reach your second high first, tumbling towards it with open arms. You can’t contain yourself, the tempting moan dancing upon the tip of your tongue, burning in your throat as your orgasm twists at your belly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna━” 

But your voice splinters off into a delicious sounding whimper. Wary of being caught by your wandering friends when you’re both so close to being undone (because, really, the idea of someone else hearing you whimper because of how good his cock is exhilarates him), Namjoon’s hand clamps over your lips and you welcome it graciously, favouring the idea of his fingers poking into your mouth so that you have something to distract your moaning. It still comes, broken and inaudible, smothered by Namjoon’s hand, as your tongue lavs around his digits. 

Now, you’re truly a sight to behold, making Namjoon’s length twitch amongst your walls. Exhausted, fucked out eyes gawk at him, too weak to carry on, instead jutting your hips forward to meet his with each thrust. 

“Shit,” he whines. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N━”

He comes moments later, frantic slaps of his own hips having him spilling his seed sloppily into your already wet cunt. The abrupt sensation as your own walls clenching so impossibly tight around him, he feels as if he can’t move, though it’s not as if he immediately plans to. Instead, after a few more rocky thrusts into you to ride out both of your highs, he collapses against your chest and you smooth your fingers delicately through his hair. 

It’s a miracle when you both manage to finally pry themselves off of one another. As Namjoon hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans, you fidget with your bra and shirt, and then the hem of your skirt, tugging it as low as it can go. His cum is still warm and sticky between your legs, slowly beginning to run down your inner thighs. 

You catch him looking at some point and ask curiously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just wondering how you still manage to look so beautiful even after having my cum fucked in you.”

You roll your eyes as you reach out to ruffle his messy hair in an attempt to tame the damage you’ve caused. He smiles wide at the effort anyway. 

“Decent?” he asks.

“Good enough,” You say. “Now, let’s find the boys before anyone notices we were gone for too long.”

And this, he doesn’t disagree with.

Later, when you and Namjoon have regrouped with the rest of the boys back by the cars parked outside the asylum, everyone looks a little more on edge than when you left them. Except for maybe you and Namjoon. You wonder if the boys notice, judging by the way you and Namjoon keep giggling amongst yourselves.

“So,” Jungkook says, “did you guys find anything?”

“Nothing,” Jin admits. “Just freaked out Jimin a little bit more.”

The boy in question can be seen scowling to himself, arms folded over his chest. “All I gotta say is screw this place.”

Hoseok looks indifferent as he reviews a recording on the camera in his hands. When he speaks, his voice is a casual drawl. “Dunno. Thought we heard some suspiciously loud moaning from one part of that building that I’m almost positive Namjoon and Y/N were exploring.”

At this, Taehyung bursts out into wolfish laughter, only prompted further by your sudden horrified expression that you try to play off nonchalantly and fail miserably at doing. So they had heard you two after all? “Ha! They sure were exploring something.”

While the rest of the boys look either intrigued or rightfully confused, Namjoon shakes his head defiantly. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Resisting the urge to hide behind your hands, you bite your tongue and try to sift through your brain for something else to discuss. Over the childish giggling sounding from Taehyung and Hoseok, you ask, “Well, did you guys find anything? Thought we heard you exploring the third floor.”

“Third floor?” Hoseok echoes, dumbfounded. “We didn’t get that far.”

“But I could have sworn I heard you guys.”

Hoseok’s brows knit together. He exchanges a look with Taehyung, then returns his stare to you. “You probably heard Tae screaming like a lunatic because a spider was on him. We were only in there long enough to try the spirit box out again, but that was on the second floor. Then the spider thing happened. Then, we left.”

Now, this is alarming. You gap at the boys as your mind tries to piece together the puzzles of this dilemma. Had you heard the boys, or perhaps something else entirely? Or maybe it was just your imagination. Namjoon did say your mind plays tricks on you ━ but the sound of footsteps had been so vivid. 

Even Namjoon looks stupefied, gawking at Hoseok. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We were filming the whole time. We can show you. Are you guys joking?”

“No,” You promise. “We were━ Erm━ We got distracted. We weren’t really paying much attention but━”

You’re fortunate when Yoongi decides to speak up, interrupting your embarrassed stammering. “So then what did you guys hear…?

A beat of silence passes amongst your group of friends. One-by-one, you each turn to look up at the haunting asylum still standing behind you, the night blurring its shape into one incomprehensible monstrosity. Okay, so maybe the ghost stories about this place are true. A shiver runs down your spine. 

Then━

“So does that mean the ghost is a Peeping Tom or━?” Jungkook asks. You wonder if you should be concerned by his serious tone.

The boys howl with laughter at the thought, though you’re still admittedly a little shaken up by the idea of a ghost watching you and Namjoon bone. Maybe you asked for it, what with deciding to have a quickie in a haunted asylum. 

“I don’t know, but can we please get out of here?” You press thinly. “Jimin was right. Screw this place.”

If the boys are as deeply unsettled by yours and Namjoon’s sudden revelation, you don’t know. You all manage to pack up your belongings and clamber in the cars in record timing, speeding away from the asylum unscathed. And if you really did just witness a ghost encounter, then you suppose it isn’t all that bad. 

At the very least, Namjoon’s video does make it to the trending page.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[xjoonchildx]

guilty | knj x reader | chapter one: how odd

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

notes: you guys have been so amazing with your feedback on “guarded” and it warms my heart that you loved hoseok and ms. kim -- so it’s time to show mr. kim some love, too.  this series will not be long (probably three parts) but i had to break it into chapters because of the POV shifts. please let me know what you think about this chapter and as usual thank you so much to all the tiger wives and my amazing betas @ladyartemesia​ and @hobi-gif​.

this series is dedicated to the amazing @sahmfanficbts​ who is an incredible writer, an awesome woman, and kim namjoon’s number one fan.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

**********************

“You fired me?”

Namjoon turns at the sound of the quiet accusation that comes from over his shoulder.  

There is color in your cheeks as you cross the length of his office.  Your jaw is tight, one lock of hair falling free from the loose knot at the base of your neck. One perfectly-arched brow is raised high.

You look hurt.

Beautiful -- but hurt.

Guilt hits Namjoon like a freight train.

“Of course not,” he deflects, taking a seat.  He picks up one of the papers scattered across his desktop and pretends to read it carefully.  “I reassigned you to a position I believe will be a better fit.”

There’s no way he could miss the irritated breath you suck between your teeth but Namjoon keeps his eyes glued to that paper in his hand.  He realizes, absently, that it’s a takeout menu.

He hopes you haven’t noticed the same thing.

“Well, was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Namjoon winces at the dejection in your tone.  He finally forces himself to meet your gaze and finds your eyes brimming with frustration.  

He certainly can’t blame you on that account -- you have every right to be frustrated.  You shouldn’t be made to feel somehow lacking when it’s him who is lacking in every way that counts.

“Quite the opposite,” he says carefully.  “I think it’s a waste of your skills to have you keeping my schedule and taking calls.  Seokjin can make better use of your talents on the business side.”

A strained silence settles over the room and Namjoon clears his throat before looking back down to his papers.

“Well, the new girl is terrible at this,” you say flatly.  “I certainly wouldn’t have let me walk in here unannounced.  She’s too busy looking at her phone to look after you.”

Namjoon knows you’re right about that.

In the few short months you’ve worked for him, you’ve proven yourself to be unnaturally attuned to his needs. You knew without asking which calls he was trying to avoid and when, when to clear his schedule the day after a rough night on the streets. You’ve kept his office stocked with every comfort he’d ever wanted and some he hadn’t even realized he wanted.  

You are the single best assistant he’s ever had and he couldn’t stand to keep you around for one minute longer.

You don’t wait for Namjoon to formulate some kind of response to your damning and accurate observation.  By the time he looks back up from his papers, you’ve already turned on your heels to leave.  

He watches you walk away with regret weighing heavy in his gut.

**************************

Namjoon’s keys clang loudly when he drops them on the table in his foyer.

This penthouse is the best apartment in one of the best buildings in Seoul.  It’s filled with lavish furnishings and expensive paintings and boasts a stunning view of the Han River.  It’s one of the finest residences in the city.

And Namjoon hates it.

The vacant rooms and the echoing walls seem to mock him, making him all the more aware of how empty it is.  How completely devoid it is of any life. Most nights he stays at the office until he’s delirious with exhaustion just so he can collapse straight into bed once he gets here. 

Tonight though, for once, this place seemed like a better option. 

Namjoon pulls off his tie and releases the first few buttons of his shirt before pouring a scotch.  

He’s drinking too much these days -- he knows it -- but the drinks help slow the constant movement of his mind.  They help dull the anxiety that seems to take over when he’s too still for too long.

He walks to the window to look out over the night sky.  

This is his favorite way to see the city -- high up enough that everything looks pristine.  Get closer and you’ll be assaulted by the noise and the crowds and the pollution.  Get closer and the flaws are too hard to ignore.

“Was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Your words echo as clearly in Namjoon’s mind as if you’d spoken them out loud in this cavernous apartment. He takes a seat in his plush chair and sips his drink, savoring the familiar burn of the scotch.

He thinks back to when you both were kids.  

Your father -- one of the few decent men in his own father’s inner circle -- didn’t bring you around much.  He can only recall a few social functions you’d attended before taking off to university.  News of your father’s death came shortly after that and it had been years since Namjoon had even spared a thought for you.

Then you came walking through his office door.

You definitely weren’t a kid anymore, that much was clear.  

What was much less clear was why you -- a college graduate -- turned up one day, desperate for a job.  He hadn’t questioned your need for fast work and fast money and you hadn’t questioned the long hours and strange requests.

You repaid him with a flawless work ethic.

And he repaid you by fantasizing about fucking you blind over his desk basically every chance he got.

So yeah, there was a problem, all right.   

The problem was Kim Namjoon.

*********************

“There you are.”

The voice on the other end of the line practically slithers into Namjoon’s ear when he answers the late call. 

“Mina,” he sighs, infusing the name with a displeasure that comes through loud and clear across the connection.  “This line is for business only, you know that.”

Mina makes an exasperated sound.

“I wouldn’t have to call your cell if you’d return my messages from the office.  I’ve been trying to reach you for more than two weeks now. I’m starting to feel like you’re avoiding me.”

Namjoon pulls the phone away to allow himself a long exhale before putting it back to his ear.

“How did you get this number?”

“You’re hung up on that?” Mina groans. “Honestly, Namjoon.  I reached out to your new assistant who was more than happy to pass it along.”

Fuck. He’s going to have to fire the new girl, isn’t he?

“She’s a nice girl,” Mina muses.  “Far more competent than that last assistant of yours.  Excellent decision on replacing that woman if she fails to complete a task as simple as delivering a message. Three messages, actually.”

Namjoon mulls that information over in silence.

“Where is your mind these days, Mr. Kim?” Mina tries to cover her displeasure with a laugh but he hears it anyway.  “You’ve been so distant lately.  It’s been too long since we had the chance to enjoy one another’s company.”

Namjoon can envision the pout she is wearing on the other end of the line and it aggravates him beyond belief.  Pouting ranks near the very top of his least favorite female manipulation tactics. 

Pouting makes him want to put his fist through a wall.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he mutters.  “I’m here.”

“Are you drunk?”

Namjoon grits his teeth, fingers tightening around his glass.

“No, Mina,” he grinds out. “Not drunk. Just not in the mood.  Not anymore.”

She sputters on the other end of the line as Namjoon ends the call.

Maybe he should feel bad about being so blunt, but he doesn’t.  It’ll be a week before she’s onto the next wealthy, connected man.  Women like Mina make sport of locating and latching on to power. 

She’ll survive.

Namjoon stares out into the night sky and sips his scotch, letting his mind wander back to the one piece of the conversation that did capture his interest.

What are the chances that you -- a woman with seemingly unerring attention to detail -- forgot to deliver three separate messages from the same caller? 

He contemplates that in the dark.

How odd.

***********************

YOU

Kim Namjoon was the most serious boy you’d ever seen. 

Even as a young man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. You can still close your eyes and remember exactly how he looked back then -- standing solemn at his father’s side, lanky body swimming in a suit he’d not yet grown into.  His hair just a touch too long and falling into his eyes.  

You thought he was the most handsome boy in all of Korea.

Namjoon kept mostly to himself -- no easy task given that his status alone made him the most celebrated catch amongst the children of the Gajog.  

Everyone fought for the attention of the boy who would be king.  

It would have been so easy for him to abuse the power he had over his peers, to treat them with disrespect, but Namjoon never did.  You noticed how kind he was to the children who idolized him.  You noticed how well he managed the volatile moods of his alcoholic father.  You noticed how he hovered protectively over his sister.  

He never noticed you, of course.

Your own father was careful to limit your exposure to the Gajog and as such, you lived on the outskirts of the social circle.  By the time you were a teenager, you’d only spoken to Namjoon directly a handful of times.  The few times you did see him face-to-face, you’d had to suffer through that awkward moment before his eyes lit with recognition.  

It always took a minute for him to remember who you were, but when he finally did -- every time he finally did -- your heart would stop just a bit at his shy smile.  

That was the image you held on to when you held your breath and walked into his office a few months ago.  You’d taken a deep breath and prayed that the quiet, kind kid you’d known so long ago hadn’t changed too much over the years.  And then you stepped into his posh office.

Kim Namjoon definitely wasn’t a kid anymore.

The Namjoon who stood up from behind his desk to bow a greeting was nothing short of devastating.

Standing in place of the slender boy from your childhood was a man with deep, dark eyes and a striking, angular face.  His suit -- cut to fit every line of his body to an exacting standard -- did nothing to conceal his powerful frame.  He had grown into the full lips that once seemed a bit too large for his face. 

Without a doubt, he’d become the most handsome man in all of Korea.

The shy smile remained, though -- dimples prominent when Namjoon extended a hand to shake yours and you woodenly accepted, blinking back.  You’d realized, absently, that you were gawking.

You hoped he hadn’t noticed the same thing.

If Namjoon had picked up on your mortifying reaction to seeing him after all these years, he was far too much of a gentleman to let on.  He’d offered you a seat and then listened patiently as you explained that you were in need of a job -- any job -- so long as you could start right away.

You left out the painful details, of course.  

Namjoon nodded quietly as you outlined your education and qualifications and emphasized your willingness to serve the Gajog in any role he saw fit.  His eyes were warm and reassuring as you spoke, but you still braced yourself for the possibility that he’d send you away empty handed.

He didn’t.

At the end of your impassioned speech, Kim Namjoon made you an offer you could not refuse.  

Reporting directly to him and starting right away.

***************************

The serious boy you’d known so many years ago had grown into an even more serious man.

It didn’t take long on the job to notice the bone-deep melancholy that seemed to emanate from Kim Namjoon.  He was good at concealing it in front of others but you saw it clearly.  The way he would stand at his window at night, drink in hand, brooding.  The way the shadows behind his eyes would surface when he thought no one was looking.

But you were always looking.

You wanted so badly to help.  

You wanted to do something to help ease the burden he seemed to carry around at all times.  So you threw yourself into the work, memorizing his routines and taking note of the things he needed.  You organized his files.  You streamlined his schedule.  You ran interference on Yoongi and Hoseok and Seokjin on the nights when his moods turned dark and ominous.

Tiny gestures, in the grand scheme of things -- but there were days when you could convince yourself the gestures made a difference.

Days when Namjoon would look at you with a quiet appreciation that made you feel heat down to your toes.  Days when his eyes would soften as you’d instinctually met some need he hadn’t voiced out loud. Days when the darkness inside of him seemed to recede and one of those heart-stopping shy smiles would emerge.

You convinced yourself over time that this was enough --  that taking care of him like this would be enough for you.

It had to be enough. 

To allow yourself to imagine otherwise was nothing short of delusion.  

**********************

“Eomma?” 

You call out into the quiet as you lock the door behind you.  You can barely make out the sound of your mother’s soft reply from her bedroom.

This is where she spends most of her days now, shuffling between her bed and her chair, too weak to stand for more than a few minutes at a time.  Pill bottles litter the nightstand, obscuring the yellowing photograph of your parents as newlyweds.  

“My sweet Ttal,” she rasps, voice hoarse from disuse, “You’re home.”

“I am,” you sigh, sweeping into the room and pulling off your coat.  You bend down to drop a kiss on her forehead before taking a seat at her side.  Your mother’s once-luminous skin is now spotted with age, eyes cloudy and dull, but she is still one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen.   

She flinches when you take one of her hands into your much colder ones.

“Sorry,” you murmur, massaging over the paper-thin skin.  “It’s freezing outside.  I should have warmed them first.”

She gives your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Home early again,” she croaks.  “Is everything okay at work?”

Her innocent question brings the sadness simmering just under the surface of your thoughts back to a full boil.  You still can’t understand why Namjoon chose to reassign you -- and you still can’t forget the sting of getting the news secondhand from your replacement.

Your face falls at the memory and you hope your mother doesn’t notice.  

The last thing you’d want to do is add worry to her already long list of concerns.

“Yes, Eomma,” you soothe, smoothing back her hair.  She leans into your touch with a tired smile.  “Everything is fine.  My new boss doesn’t keep me as late as the old one did.  But that’s a good thing, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, closing her eyes.  “Mrs. Sim left just a short while ago.  She brought some Japchae for dinner.  Not as good as mine, but not half-bad, either.”  

You laugh at the way the corner of her mouth lifts into a smile at her jest.  

People like Mrs. Sim are in large part why you’ve fought so hard to keep your mother here in your childhood home.  The financial strain has been tough -- particularly when paired with the medical bills -- but you need the help.  With no siblings to share your burden, you’ve had to lean on the goodwill of longtime neighbors.

“Leave Mrs. Sim and her Japchae alone mother,” you tease, standing to stretch.  “I’m going to get a shower before bed.”

Your mother makes a noise that sounds like approval, but you can tell she’s already drifting off again.  

She’s on so many pills these days; a blessing and a curse.  More pills means less pain and better rest -- something she desperately needs.  But more pills also means far fewer moments of lucidity -- much shorter windows of time for you to enjoy your mother’s quick wit and dry humor.

She’s back in a sleep state before you even make to stand.  You stroke your fingertips across her face just as your phone pings in your pocket.  You pull it out and very nearly dismiss the routine banking alert altogether -- but something catches your eye.

You swipe into the app to confirm you’re seeing the numbers correctly -- that your tired eyes and tired mind aren’t playing games with you.  

They aren’t.

The direct deposit of your paycheck is coming on the date it should, at the time it should.  But the number glaring back at you from the screen is higher -- much higher -- than it should be.

A demotion and a raise in the span of one week?

How odd.

******************************

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

tag list: @barbikatherine​

[witch333s]

Demonic Hauntings and my Personal Experience with Getting "Too Close"

Before I start, I just want to again state that these are my personal beliefs and experiences. I am not saying my word is fact, I am not here to argue opinions with people. I am here to discuss opinions. I also have never experienced possession before, but this is just the first topic I am going to discuss. The second topic of "getting too close" per my title, are things I experienced. Again, personal and opinion.

Demonic entities can physically and spiritually break a person down in order to get closer to them and eventually inside of them. Demonic entities have no physical form, but can be seen in passing as shadows, mists or can be noticed also by their smell. Signs of a Demonic entity beginning to break a person down would be bruising, changes in eating habits, distancing from others, distraction, anger. Yes, these are common symptoms of probably many other physical or emotional issues people go through daily, which is one of the many reasons Demonic haunting and / or possession is very hard to pin point as authentic.

Signs of a Demonic entity actually in possession of a person could include but are not limited to speaking in a different or even unknown language, violence, abnormal strength, voice changes, abnormal body movements, extremely increased intelligence. Unfortunately, since these symptoms are much more noticeable than the previous ones, this is usually when the possession is actually acknowledged. But even still, it is extremely hard to know for certain if possessions are authentic, and also with not everyone believing in this, sometimes they never get the chance to find out.

Who do Demons target and why? In my opinion, there's no true reason why. Demons are the epitome of evil, and hell has hierarchies in which where I believe things get reasoned "who and why". Demons can be territorial and reside at certain locations for eternity, whether it be a house, an apartment complex, a stretch of land even. They also can target "broken spirits". Trigger warn. I do not mean to say here that those who struggle with these next few things are any less strong than the next, but to an entity that thrives on darkness, they can be targeted. Those struggling with depression, suicidal thoughts or actions, and / or addiction. A Demonic entity can feed on it and use it to their advantage. They can also target places that have a dark history, like murders and / or suicides, also places that housed bad or criminal conditions. Signs that a Demonic entity are inhabiting a stretch of land, house or building would be but not limited to rotten smells, deep growling, a change in your demeanor upon entering; especially irrational anger.

Now, with me saying "getting too close" before. Before I started my studies in demonology, I lost a friend. We were young, early 20s. I had never experienced loss like that before, so I was incredibly angry, confused and turned to alcohol to cope. I was with another friend, and we were talking about our fallen friend. We were in his basement, and kept hearing knocking noises on the floor above. We were under the influence and decided to entertain it. We tried to communicate, thinking it was our friend. His printer turned on on its own, (computer still off) and began printing an image. We sat silently and watched. It printed out a figure, very heavy in ink, with the words "Can you see Me?" I remember immediately being scared that the "Me" was capitalized. We continued hearing the noises, and another picture started printing. It was the same image, just even more heavy in ink, still in the form of a figure, with the words "Can you see Me?" He made me take the pictures out of his house and had me leave. We never spoke of it again, and I do still have those prints.

Honestly, that was probably the beginning of my studies and interest. Because without knowing, I knew that that wasn't our friend coming through. Years go by, and I become very knowledgeable in this topic, and am very passionate about it, with still holding the respectable amount of fear. I was at a bad point in my life, and continuously threw myself quickly into unhealthy relationships with men. I was drinking a lot still. My body was very unhealthy. I began seeing this man, and upon seeing him for the first time, the first thing I noticed was that he had the Seal of Beelzebub tattooed on his hand. I should have known that it wasn't a good sign, but at the time, found it interesting. He later on ended up telling me things about himself and his connection to Beelzebub. Since we both had interest in the occult and demonology, we both got too deep and too close. We tried performing conjurings, being under the influence most of the time our quick relationship lasted. And I started having nightmares of Beelzebub, and I mean wake up screaming kind of nightmares. I started seeing figures standing behind me when I would walk past a mirror or a window.

That was when I left this blog and didn't return until now. I was scared I was being "broken down". Something was getting very close to me.

This is my point in "getting too close". I am speaking to over 13,000 of you and I want to truly say that the occult and demonology are extremely interesting and honestly so much fun to learn about. But, you need to be aware of yourself and who you keep close to you. This stuff, whether you are religious or not, no matter what you believe in, if you allow "access" by making yourself vulnerable to this, it will use that opportunity.

National Suicide Help Line: 800-273-8255

SAMHSA’s National Helpline: 1-800-662-HELP (4357)

[mmvalentine]

The Pianist pt 1 | Jurdan

Modern AU. Okay so this is the first time I'm trying a Jurdan AU, dunno how's gonna go so don't get too excited okay?

*Update: Read part 2*

Jude had lived in the same apartment for years, and refused to leave. It was small, but rent controlled, and there was no way she could afford to stay in New York if she lived anywhere else. So despite the feeling that she was slowly going insane, she stayed.

The apartment building was not too far from the Juilliard school, and Jude both hated and loved this about her place. Of course all she had ever wanted to do was make music, but she was raised by a single father who remarried a woman who hated her, and a performing arts school was just never in the cards for her. She hadn’t even finished high school- left home young, went somewhere she could be surrounded art, and tried to be content living life among artists even if all she could do was wait tables for snotty rich conservatory students.

The worst of all of them was Cardan.

Cardan lived in the apartment above hers, and of course he was gorgeous and talented and stupid wealthy. From the titter around the local diner, Cardan was supposed to be some kind of wunderkind, even among the Juilliard crowd. This part, Jude did not dispute. She had listened to him practice on his grand piano at home, countless nights. What she despised was that he only seemed to play between the hours of 8pm and 4am, as if being skilled meant that one did not have to adhere to social rules of common courtesy.

What he did the rest of the day appeared, from the noises above her and from her not infrequent sightings of him around the building, was wake late, drink heavily, and sleep around. Jude was fairly sure his parents were bankrolling everything, from rent to booze, and it infuriated her.

Here she was, working three jobs just to exist near music. Sure, Cardan put the piano hours in. But if he was good now, what would he be like if he actually put effort in? What could he create if he wasn’t drunk or high all the time? How could his career fly if he was trying to make actual network connections instead of just talking girls into bed? Talent and money were wasted on Cardan and Jude hated him for it.

And then of course there was the fact that Cardan was just plain rude.

Jude told herself that this is the real reason she is typing out her eleventh email to the landlord, citing her tenant’s right to quiet enjoyment while half delirious at 2am. There were three and a half hours until she was supposed to be getting up for her first shift, and Cardan was playing like he’s got an extra pair of hands. Jude had tried to talk to other residents about this, but every time she brought up his name they just beamed and said “Yes, aren’t we lucky that Juilliard’s best student lives here, right in our apartment building!”

And so night after night, Jude lay in bed with a headache building between her eyes, composing letters of complaint in her head and only only very special occasions actually sending them.

On this particular night, Cardan played in bursts. Classical music that Jude didn’t recognise at a furious speed, then breaking off half way as if forgetting. Bright show tunes, then nothing again. Dramatic cinematic soundscapes, and then lapsing into silence. The jarring lurching was worse than when he played non-stop.

Jude found that the background light of her laptop hurt her eyes, and eventually she hit send and then went back to bed, where she pulled her pillow over her head. Every time Cardan stopped, she would just fall asleep only to be woken again, until he finally stopped altogether but Jude could no longer relax because she didn’t trust the silence.

In the end, she started doing what always helped her fall asleep. Sang her mother’s old lullabies quietly to herself, until she had calmed down enough to drift off.

///////

Cardan couldn’t sleep.

Cardan could never sleep, had had insomnia for as long as he could remember. When he was younger, it was sort of fun. He would stay up and read books under his covers with a flashlight, or write songs when everyone else was asleep.

As an adult, it just felt horrendous. All the time. He was always exhausted, his eyes always hurt, and when he tried to sleep he just lay in the dark with his thoughts running too fast around and around his head.

The alcohol used to help. A few glasses of wine before bed would make him drowsy, even if it did mean he woke up half way through the night feeling slightly dizzy. Now, it didn’t help him sleep as such, but being drunk was still better than being awake, and worse came to worse he would eventually pass out if he kept on drinking. Which was almost like sleep.

Tonight was particularly bad. His parents had let him know that they would be in town for the end of term concert, which was never good. His older siblings were all in high up and important roles- a senator, a partner in a law firm, a surgeon. And then there was him- the youngest and the dumbest and the novelty child of the family.

It didn’t actually matter that he was good and he knew it. Didn’t matter that he had started receiving media attention for his talent. He was still just playing at being musician and his parents were indulging him until he grew up and got a real job.

Cardan had tried to distract himself by spending the evening at Nicasia’s place, but she was smoking joints and he couldn’t stand the smell. So eventually he left and sat at the piano for a few hours, but nothing was coming together. Usually, his fingers remembered even if his brain didn’t, but today he was getting half way through pieces and then finding that he just… couldn’t be bothered.

Eventually, he dragged himself back to his infernal bed, with its tauntingly soft sheets but no rest to be found anywhere. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, and willing the hours away.

Until suddenly, his ears caught a whisper of a song so soft and sweet he was sure he was hallucinating. He did that sometimes, when he hadn’t slept in a few days.

But no, it was coming from somewhere below him.

Cardan got to the floor and peeled the rug back. Pressed his ear to the vent there and sure enough, he could hear a woman singing. He strained and couldn’t quite make out the words, but there was something sad and lovely about that voice.

Moving as little as possible, so as to not rustle over the sound, Cardan adjusted his position until he was lying more comfortably on the ground, and let himself relax into the song.

The next day, Cardan would not recall how long he lay there before he fell asleep, and it was a shock to be woken by the sun, still sprawled there on the carpet.

****

Literally nothing planned, no idea where this is going just thought I'd start and see where we end up! Then again, that's me almost all the time isn't it...

Also, I am Quite Stressed today so I apologise if a) I don’t make sense and b) if this story doesn’t progress as fast as we would like it to.

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish

[dclsbaby]

tolerate it - Dominic Calvert Lewin 🦋

Summary: despite being in love, you and dom drift apart during a career hiccup and it breaks your heart into tiny little pieces

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: angst? pain?

A/N: hi everyone! I took the looongest hiatus known to mankind and I just want to thank everyone who has still stuck by this blog! I haven't written in a while and this isn't by best work but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! ily!

masterlist

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I sit and watch

I notice everything you do or don’t do

Every little thing he does leaves you in awe. The man can’t do no wrong in your eyes. You notice the way he breathes, his little gestures, his subtle movements. Others can envision an entire story just by observing the way he looks at you. As you lay in bed with his body next to yours, his chest rising with every breath taken, you discover a newfound appreciation to add to the list of things you love about him. You have never felt a feeling so intense, so visceral. Love is terrifying, isn’t it? Love often leads to infatuation, and this was no different to you. You wear your heart on your sleeves, feel every emotion, from the exhilarating highs, to the excruciating lows. To be dependent on another human for happiness is a dangerous game. You fear love. And with fear comes paranoia.

It started when your conversations became shorter and shorter by the day. Then, it’s him arriving late from training, to no longer waking you up before he leaves for early morning training. No more forehead kisses when you’re still asleep, no more post-it notes on refrigerator doors telling you he’s made you breakfast, no nothing. Bodies that were once intertwined each night now rest apart with unwanted distance in between. Distance you so wanted to close.

As the weather turned cold, so did he.

I wait by the door like I’m just a kid

Use my best colours for your portrait

Lay the table with fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it

Without fail, you would always wait for him to come home, run to the door when you hear his car pull over on your driveway and leap into his arms the second he steps in your shared home. He would hold you up as your legs wrap around his waist, and whisper “I’ve been waiting to come home to you all day,” in your ear. A memory you long to relive.

You knew he had been struggling, coping with a plateau in his career, playing less and less, becoming a resident of the substitution bench. It hurt you to see him hurt, but it also pained you that he did not turn to you for comfort. “Nothing is wrong,” he says, over and over. Lies, you thought. You know him better than anyone else. So you try and convince him that he could trust you, and that keeping it all in would only make it worse. I mean you would know, as you have been suppressing so much pain this whole time. But he wins this battle yet again, and with his ego intact, he shrugs it off, ignores his frustration, and pushes you away.

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural my sky

Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life

As months passed by, you were no longer his live-in partner, but a stranger he has to coexist with, leaving you lonely each night as he drifted off to sleep inches away from you. Even then your love for him is still as potent, as strong. Your loyalty is a crime.

Your efforts to make him feel better never ceased, as you continue cooking him his favourite meals after training, helping him pack his bags the night before he leaves for international duty, doing household chores so he never had to bother with them after coming home from an exhausting day, making playlists of songs you think he’d like, and putting movies and tv series you know he would enjoy in his Netflix list.

You would do anything for some form of acknowledgement.

You would do anything to bring back those first two years back.

You would do anything for a simple touch, a hug, an embrace.

You would do anything for… something.

Everything you did, you did for him. Every thought that passes your mind, involves him.

It’s just a phase. It’s just a phase. You try to convince yourself. That’s a lie, another subconscious voice says.

---

It was the night before the Merseyside derby, which happens to be the final match of the season. The most anticipated match of the year. The perfect match. The match that determines if Everton is crowned Premier League champions. Half of the city at war with the other half. Two colours, two clubs with a historic rivalry battle it out on the pitch once again.

He was nervous, you could tell. You catch him playing with his food and struggle to finish his meal as he was sick to his stomach. After months of hate comments, online trolling, and being subject to pundits’ criticism, this was the perfect match to prove all the doubters that he is worthy of wearing his blue jersey. He spent several more minutes tossing pieces of food with his fork until he got up, placed his plate on the sink, and made his way up the stairs to sleep. No “see you upstairs”, or a last goodbye before he sleeps. You had to resist every temptation to start a fight and argue that you deserve more than silence. But you knew how important tomorrow’s occasion is, and decided against it.

Shortly after you make your way into your bedroom. He was curled on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, bedroom lights dimmed. You go to your shared bathroom, take what’s left of your makeup off, and get ready for bed. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Darkened under eyes, lips cracked down the middle. You were dehydrated, tired, exhausted, and looked almost ghastly. Turns out having a broken heart does have implications on your vanity. How much longer can I do this? You thought. You felt pathetic, feeling sorry for yourself. You exhale a deep sigh and make your way back into the bedroom, joining him in bed. As you settle on the bed, you turn your body away from him, and tug the duvet your way, curling into a fetal position and tuck yourself in, and drift off to sleep.

All of a sudden, you hear sounds of shifting sheets, the bed slightly moving with every turn he makes. You could tell he was awake. You knew the events of tomorrow are playing on his mind and making him lose sleep. With only a little hesitation, you extend an arm and rest your hand on his back, causing him to shudder a little. Your touch had stopped the shifting and brought him comfort he did not know he needed. Not long after, you could hear soft snores from his side of the bed.

---

You woke up to an empty bed, which was not unusual. You forgive him though, since it is a big day and he probably had to tune into the game day mentality early in the morning.

You watch the game from home and stare at the TV screen as the cameras zoom into Dom, his face serious, ready to fight it out on the pitch. Since the second the referee blew the first while, it had already gotten intense. Both teams began attacking from the get-go, a handful of chances created even though it’s barely been a quarter of an hour.

Minutes passed, and yellow cards have been handed out for several players. Every spectator in different time zones all glued to their screens, all on the edge of their seats until half-time. The camera catches a glimpse of him walking off the pitch. He looked angry and frustrated, you could tell. He was responsible for most of the chances created during the game, though he couldn’t seem to poach one in.

Ben had made a long pass that Dom couldn’t quite convert into a goal.

Lucas had delivered a stunning, almost perfect cross that landed on Dom’s head, but it went wide.

Richy had attempted a shot on his own, which pissed Dom off.

It’s all square at half-time, but football is a game of two halves, and to decide which side of the city will celebrate tonight is determined by the next 45 minutes at least.

Every player is now back on the pitch, ready to give it their all.

10 minutes in, it’s long balls and defending, the opposition giving no room to maneuver through the box. That is until Lucas passed another strikingly accurate cross.

“MISS AGAIN! How could he have missed a cross like that a second time?”

“Everton’s number 9 squashes an open goal opportunity, what a shame, that.”

“He’s going to hate himself for that,”

“He already does, Calvert-Lewin looks like he’s about to see red.”

You listen to the commentators as they describe Dom’s frustration. You watch with anxiety, occasionally scrolling through your phone to avoid the intensity.

---

Into the final minute of the game 90+3.  Still all square at the Goodison. It’s now or never.

“Free kick!”

“The free-kick will be done 20 yards off the goal post.”

“This could be the last chance of the game!”

“It’s been decided that Sigurdsson will take the free kick, Calvert-Lewin leaps into the air, ball’s on his head—GOAL!!!”

And just like that, in the final minute of the game, his team clinches the winner, and your man is hailed the hero of the night.

You watch the screen as the referee blows the final whistle of the game, Dom doing sprints around the pitch with his teammates, bodies jumping on each other, veins popping through every neck, roars of exhilaration filling the open air as Everton is calculated to win the league.

You watch him immerse himself in the exhilaration of crowning his team champions of the Premier League. The blue confetti rained over the stadium in the crisp yet comfortable afternoon air, cheering noises blasting through the speakers. You watch the screen zoom into the love of your life, or was. You see his perfectly chiseled face, those bright green eyes, brunette locks still perfectly put together even after a hard-fought game, his sweet smile warming your heart. Your eyes glued to the screen as your man is hailed a hero, and feel an overwhelming sense of pride.

Though not even the cheering and happy faces on TV could distract you from the churning feeling in your stomach. It’s a feeling you can’t quite pinpoint. Is it confusion? Anger? Happiness? You don’t even know.

You’re happy for him, truly. But you can’t seem to shake the fact that it took him being distant from you, and completely ignoring your existence to get his head back in the game. It’s like you and football were mutually exclusive, and he can’t focus on both things he loves most at the same time. You weren’t going to make him choose either.

---

He didn’t come home that night, and you saw it coming. You knew he was going to go out with his teammates, and rightfully so, they achieved a massive milestone after all. But it bothered you that he didn’t say anything, no texts, no voicemails, nothing to tell you of his whereabouts. You thought he would at least change after all that success, but still nothing. Everything is going to stay the same, isn’t it? You thought.

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed. Again. Totally expected. You reach out for your phone and see 10 missed calls from your best friend and several text messages with picture attachments. You were not prepared for what you were about to see.

Attached were pictures of him in a club with his teammates, pictured awfully close to a woman you don’t recognise. He was smiling and looked happy. You can’t remember the last time he looked like that, or even smiled at you. You haven’t even stood as close as they way that woman is in his space, for months. He hasn’t looked at you the way he’s looking at her in those pictures for months.

You felt sick. Your mind is racing. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest. You wanted to cry and scream but nothing came out. Total silence. Pure shock. You had no tears left to cry, as you wasted it all from crying yourself to sleep just inches away from the man who broke your heart every day.

Should I have seen it coming? Has he been going out with her for months? When did it start? You try to remember every single detail over the past few months. Every single pain, every single action that you could have overlooked.

---

By the afternoon, you’ve already spent hours sitting on your bed, staring at the pictures sent to you. More links have appeared as gossip sites picked up on the story.

“Dominic Calvert-Lewin celebrates historic Merseyside win with a mystery girl who is not his missus”

“Everton Hero – Also a Cheat”

“Cursed WAGs – DCL celebrates PL win with mystery woman as his missus is MIA”

The more you read these news outlets, the number you feel. The whole of England knows your dirty laundry, you felt like a fool.

You were done.

Drawing hearts in the byline

Always taking up too much space or time

You assume I’m fine, but what would you do if I…

Break free and leave us in ruins

Took this dagger in me and removed it

Gain the weight of you, then lose it

Believe me I could do it

Shortly after you hear keys rattling downstairs, followed by the sound of doors shutting. You hear footsteps walking up the stairs, and you mentally prepare to see his face. You still don’t know how you’re going to react, not until you see him.

As he steps into the doorframe, he sees your bloodshot eyes and stops in his tracks.

“So, I presume you’ve seen what’s being said about me,” he moans.

“Yeah, yeah I’ve seen,” you shrug.

“It’s absolutely ridiculous isn’t it, shouldn’t believe everything you say,” he says.

“-is it though? Is it absolutely ridiculous that what they say could be true?” you cross your arms.

“Of course, it is! What are you even saying?” he says, offended.

“I’m saying that I have spent months slaving for you, putting you before myself without getting anything in return! I’m saying that I have been so miserable in this sad excuse of a relationship, holding onto the last memory of when you last said you loved me which was months ago! I’m saying that it would not be so unbelievable if you had been cheating on me, and that I had to find out from some tabloids!”  

“If you had been so miserable then why didn’t you say anything? You could have said something if you’ve been so unhappy!” Dom yells.

“Because I have been tiptoeing around you! Afraid of saying the wrong things to set you off, I did not want to be a burden during a time when I know you’re struggling,” you sigh.

Dom’s body nearly goes limp after hearing your confession.

“I put you before myself over and over again for the past year, and you have the nerve to assume I’m fine? Fine with what? Being ignored? Being second best? You don’t know what that does to a person,” you cry.

“Do you regret it?” he asks with tears in his eyes. “Do you regret me?” he looks at you.

“No, Dom. No, I don’t. I don’t regret you because I’ve spent the last few months giving it my all to a relationship on the brink of ruins. I never gave up on you, and I never gave up on our love, or what’s left of it,” you sigh. “Deep down, I think I knew that I deserved more than a pathetic excuse of a career hiccup, but I was prepared to stand by you through it all,” you break into cries. “My love was strong enough to ignore every warning sign, strong enough to mute fire alarm bells ringing in my head, alerting me to leave a relationship where I was no longer appreciated,” you rest your head on your hand. “Maybe we’re all allotted a certain amount of fight to give per love, and today… Today I ran out,” look up at him.

“Don’t fucking say that. Do not say that. I am not done fighting for this relationship, I know I fucked up! You don’t think I know that? I will fix everything, you don’t have to do anything, let me do everything I will fix us!” Dom begs.

“There’s no fixing us. It takes two people to fix a relationship, I learned that the hard way and I singlehandedly attempted to piece us back together only for you to break through what I’ve built and held together with my bare fucking hands,” you say as you wipe your tears away.

Dom drops to the floor as he could no longer stand the pain he feels from what you’ve just said.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what to say,” he pleads

“If it took you this long, and if it took me standing here yelling at you for you to regret what you did then we are past the point of fixing,”

“You know what football means to me, I felt stuck, everything that I had dreamed of as a kid was slowly fading, I couldn’t bear it,” Dom reasons.

“I would never get in between you and football. I would never have even considered making you choose, Dom. I would have done absolutely anything for you, anything, you said. “I just needed you to tell me what the hell is going on so I could have helped you. I did not deserve to be swept under the rug, to be left feeling useless, while you were out doing god knows what with god knows who after training every. Single. Day.”

“Are you implying that I cheated on you?! That I, me – someone you’ve known for years, is cheating on you?”

If it’s all in my head, tell me now

Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow

“Go on then! Tell me I’m making all of this up in my head. Tell me that I am not wrong to assume such insane thoughts, tell me that it is so beyond the realm of possibility that you could ever be unfaithful.”

Dom stayed silent.

You simply nodded and picked up your belongings, ready to leave.

“Nothing happened. I swear,” he pleaded.

“Your silence was enough,

Goodbye.”

I know my love should be celebrated

But you tolerate it

[divergent-one-1984]

Ongoing Organized Crime Ring to engage in TARGETED COMMUNITY HARASSMENT / HATE CRIME in Astoria, NY, 114th Precinct in Apartment buildings managed by Central Astoria. Due to WORKPLACE MOBBING that started in 2015 while employed at NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION. Excessive NOISE HARASSMENT going on today from tenants in the neighborhood as well as passing vehicles

It is about 8 AM now, I have been awakened by the following, this happens on almost daily basis. This can start as early as 5, 6 AM for the purposes of waking me up in the middle of the night, the early morning, or not allowing me to go to sleep or take a nap.

It is important to not there is ILLEGAL SURVEILLANCE directed AT and INSIDE my RESIDENCE, or else most of this real time / synchronized harassment could not occur.

So far this morning, and this happens almost daily. NOISE HARASSMENT, SLEEP DEPRIVATION, and, DIRECTED CONVERSATION (definitions of each below)

The tenants above, who I have talked to on multiple occasions, and have filed noise complaints with NYPD (they won't do anything because they are complicit with the ongoing harassment, I don't think this could have been started without resources from NYPD, they have close ties to NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION, where my harassment began in 2015, in the form of WORKPLACE MOBBING ) regarding their daily noise started with their usual stomping, banging / pounding on my ceiling and dragging of heavy furniture across the floor multiple times throughout the day.

The child of the tenants next door runs back and forth all day, literal stomping and running, yelling and screaming, and banging / pounding on my wall. The child does this every day from about 6, 7 AM till 9 10 PM. The parents engage in NOISE HARASSMENT by yelling loudly in their apartment and in the apartment building common area as they walk past my door with DIRECTED CONVERSATION and insults. I have talked to these tenants also, months ago and they continue, they even had the nerve to call the police on me for talking to them about the noise because I was filming the conversation while talking to them.

Everyday, people, some adults but mostly children pass by my window yelling insults and DIRECTED CONVERSATION around 7 7:30 AM.

Commercial trucks are driving by making extreme noise since about 7 AM.

Again, NYPD is complicit in this harassment. They are engage in a campaign of lies with NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION o cover up what they did to me back in 2015, long story short is staff members of these agencies illegally accessed my personal, private, confidential information on personal devices and probably using whatever databases they have access to on the job to illegally access information ( medical, financial, education internet search history, audio, images, texts on my personal cell phone etc.) to use to stalk and psychologically harass me and leaked medical information (Abortion in 2004, HPV, strains that cause cervical cancer, diagnosis in 2008, to get some people

(One person in particular along with others for some other reasons I believe Devin Elton Thompson and / or associates of his joined in on the harassment when the HPV was leaked, which I believe occurred while I was working at NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION. Staff from NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION, probably with the aid of NYPD and FDNY, LEAKED this information to people from my sexual past exact revenge for something stupid because they are ignorant misogynists.

I made previous posts regarding my sexual history and partners with the exception of a couple who I don't think have anything to do with the instigation of this harassment of the 6 sexual partners I had in total in my life. I had 3 prior to HPV diagnosis in 2008 so I obviously contracted HPV from 1 of those 3 people, I am educated and not ignorant so I don't care, HPV is extremely common, anyone can get it and condoms won't necessarily protect anyone from it. It the risk you take for being sexually active, if you are an informed sane adult you would not care about HPV. The only way you can avoid contracting it is to never have sex, live a complete life of abstinense.

Sexual Parter 1 and 4, I don't believe these men had anything to do with instigating this because they have shown that they respect me as a person and I don't get vibes of them getting themselves involved in something like this, disrespecting and dehumanizing a woman.

Sexual Partner 2 - ex fiance Wilfred Shawn Kirkaldy. Sexual Activity from about 2002 to 2007. Abortion 2004. Wilfred has know about HPV since 2008. Immediately following the call on my personal cell phone I received from my GYN I called 2 people to share the diagnosis with, a sibling and Wilfred.

About 6 months after we ended our sexual relationship I was diagnosed and I had already been having sex with Kirk Dolphy for about 6 months.

Sexual Partner 3 - Kirk Dolphy - Sexual Activity from 2007 to about 2009, and a single encounter around March 2015.

HPV diagnosis 2008, strains that can cause cervical cancer.

Sexual Partner 5 - Devin Elton Thompson Sexual Activity from May 2010 - July 2010, November 2011.

Sexual Partner 6 - Luis Martinez Summer 2011.

All of these partners have ties to NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION where I worked from 2014 to 2016, HARASSMENT STARTED AS WORKPLACE MOBBING in 2015, in one way or another, except for Latino, did meet him at commercial building while working for another NYC agency in 2011.

Wilfred, Devin, and Kirk are all of Jamaican descent.

Wilfred and Devin are basketball players.

Kirk was working at NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION when I met him in 2007 and still worked there when I started working there in 2014 and was still working there when my harassment began in 2015 and after I resigned in 2016.

The first time I met Devin in person was to see him play basketball for a group of young children at some NYC school in Queens or Brooklyn.

I believe Wilfred worked in the NYC school system some time after we were broken up, also his mother worked for the NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION for many years, including during the time we dated from about 2002 to 2007, and beyond. I believe she had retired sometime around the time I worked at NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION from 2014 - 2016 based on a conversation I had with either her or Wilfred during a random run on to them on the street around 2015. I randomly ran into each one separately on the street in Brooklyn, mom while I was on my way to attend a Web Design class in Downtown Brooklyn, him while In was leaving a GYN appointment in Downtown Brooklyn.

As far as the people who I was around in the workplace when the harassment started in 2015 a NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION (Adams St building). The person who started harassing me is

NATASHA LIGGINS-MODELO

I believe she was the instigator of the mobbing, she turned her irrational obsession and unhealthy interest in me into something it was not. I would not be friends with her therefore she decided to try to make me be friends with her and since I did not oblige she gathered a mob to eject me from the workplace.

The other lead mean girls were

TOLANI ADEBOYE, who was he head of my department

KHADIJA DAVIS

We were friendly because of a social group I helped to start for women with natural hair. I Los interesting and Natasha was giving me bad vibes so I stopped engaging, she noticed it and approached me on a couple of occasions as if I had to deal with her, she is someone so met on he job who I never knew before. Did not owe her anything but respect as a human being and colleague, which is what i did but she was offended that I would no befriend her in a substantive way and that when all he'll broke loose.

I was friends with ABDOULAZIZ BARRY, whom I met around February 2015 and became real friends, as in speaking and engaging with each other at work and outside of work. I endee the friendship in May 2016 because he turned on me, became apparent he had been turned against me by thr mob.

IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHO DID WHAT AT NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION, AS IN WHO HACKED MY PERSONAL INFO AND LEAKED IT, THESE ARE THE PEOPLE TO QUESTION AND INVESTIGATE. I believe they are responsible for or knows who is responsible for the MOBBING in the workplace and the STALKING AND HARASSMENT IN MY DAILY LIFE.

In addition to the HATE CRIME element to the ongoing stalking and harassment there is a Religious Zealotry / Nuttery / Judgmental element to my daily harassment as I am being harassed by mostly Muslim and Latino people. Based on facts / my observation, I would estimate that 9 out of 10 people harassing me on a daily basis are Muslim or Latino, with Muslims ranking number 1, Muslims who appear to be from Middle Eastern / Arab countries and countries on the Asian continent. All of the tenants in my apartment building are involved in my daily harassment, especially the 3 apartments surrounding my apartment. 2 of the apartments are occupied by Muslim tenants and the 3rd apartment is occupied by Latino tenants. Out of the 9 apartments in my apartment building. 2 of the tenants, including myself are African American, the remaining 7 apartments are occupied by Latino and Muslim tenants, with the Muslims being in the majority.

NOISE HARASSMENT CAMPAIGN A Noise Harassment Campaign is an orchestrated effort to produce stress in a victim through prolonged exposure to significant noise levels. A Noise Campaign can range from multiple neighbors routinely playing loud music, individual stalkers with air-horns or fireworks, or organized “repair work” that involves a high level of noise. This will include anything from Loud vehicles, Loud mufflers, doors slamming above you and below you. Garbage disposal slamming doors, Hammering intentionally slamming car doors loudly, loud stereos, stomping, at specific times, loud coughing, pots slamming, water running, cupboard doors being slammed, fridge motor running all night, power tools, etc.

SLEEP DEPRIVATION Noise Harassment Campaigns Depriving the target of sleep is a really good way of leaving the target stressed out. It’s also a way of leaving them disoriented and functioning at less than 100%. Then the targets can be baited into reacting in public, or getting into a car accident.

DIRECTED CONVERSATIONS Directed Conversation is a term referring to a stalking tactic using stranger’s conversation to both intimidate and to convey to the victim that they are under surveillance. During Directed Conversation, two or more stalkers will approach near to the target and engage in “normal” conversation with one another. The conversation is purposefully made at a level so that the victim can adequately hear what is being said. During Directed Conversation, personal information concerning the victim is inserted into the speech and emphasized by the stalkers in a fashion that most non-victims would not be able to discern as harassment. The purpose of Directed Conversation is to harass a victim, as well as make the victim appear mentally unstable should they attempt to complain about such abuse. These are conversations that complete strangers will have out in public relating to the target and their personal situations. Eg. They will repeat things a target said in their home, or on the phone. They will drop very personal details into the conversation, that could only be related to the target. Eg. Member #1. “It’s a shame Uncle Ed won’t be able to come.” Member #2. “Yeah, since he died golfing on Saturday.” The target will just have learned of a death of a favored uncle, (possibly named Ed.) while out golfing.

[quietlyimplode]

Request - Avengers finding out about Clintasha relationship

Ok! Thanks for the prompt. For those that requested it, the last fic (the one with Clint finding Natasha in the shower may indeed have a part two). We will see what muses hit me over the head. For now, have some fluff before the dark!fic comes. (WC 915)

1/ Steve

Steve has no concept of modern relationships. He hears of hooking up, of friends with benefits and conceptually knows what they mean; but he misses the courting, the kind words and the old fashion way of doing things.

Natasha makes fun of him of course, when he tells her this. Offers to set him up on yet another date, and laughs when he declines.

He retorts with a smile that maybe he’ll set her up instead.

“I’m not one for dating.” She tells him, and disappears from the room.

Suspicion befalls him more when he sees her and Clint sparring. He’s punching the heavy bag and they’re alone in the other room, he can see them through the glass, which means he doesn’t miss Natasha sweep Clint’s legs and then straddle him. He watches dumbfounded as she kisses his cheek and launches off of him.

He grabs her hand the next day in the hall.

“I saw you.” He accuses.

She cocks her head and looks confused.

“You and Clint in the gym.” He clarifies.

Still she doesn’t say anything.

“I kissed you.” He says, thinking of the escalator kiss. How is he ever going to face Clint now? He kissed his girlfriend.

Natasha laughs.

“When we were on the run?” She laughs again. “He knows. He asked if it was your first kiss since 1948 as well.”

Steve sighs. “It was not my first.. You know what it doesn’t even matter. You guys are together?”

Natasha has somehow broken out of his grasp, waving as she walks away.

“Mind your own business, Rogers.” She says.

Steve takes it as a yes.

2/ Bruce

Clint’s broke his leg. He’s in a full leg cast and residing on the couch moping quietly at the fact he’s benched for the time being.

Bruce has some pity for him, as he hobbles around on crutches.

He notices that Clint has taken to laying on the couch at night, rather than moving to his apartment or even up the elevator to where Tony has fitted them out with their own apartments within the tower.

He’s up late.

It’s around 3.30am when he leaves the lab that Tony’s painstakingly built for him, he heads first the the kitchen for some food and then bypasses the lounge room.

He hears noises coming from there.

He hears Clint laughing, and then Natasha, and as he peeks inside he finds Clint half naked and Natasha in under a blanket, laying on his chest.

Bruce feels his face go red. He’s never sitting on that couch again. At least Clint’s feeling better.

3/ Thor

“I like this elevator.” Thor says to Natasha and Clint as they’re riding up to the penthouse to meet Steve and Tony.

Clint laughs, “what do you mean? This elevator?”

Thor smiles in good humor. “There was another one, on the other side of the building. It broke when I was in it.”

Natasha grins. “How long were you in there for?”

Frowning, Thor looks over to her. “Too long.” He says.

Changing the subject, he looks over to Clint, and then to Natasha. “What do I call you two?”

Natasha cocks her head. “What do you mean?”

“Well. Names have meaning. Tony calls everyone something different. Steve says that I should ask. I watched a great movie, Mr and Mrs Smith. Do I call you Mr and Mrs Barton? Or Mr and Mrs Romanoff?”

Natasha bites on the side of her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

Clint fields the question, grinning at Thor.

“What makes you think we are together like Mr and Mrs Smith?” He asks.

Thor looks abashed as he tells them he’d watched it with Tony and Tony had kept drawing parallels between the movie and his two favourite assassins. Logically, Thor had also agreed, the evidence compelling.

“Have you not tried to kill each other and failed? He asked, like it was the definitive proof he needed.

Natasha nods. “Look. Just call us by our names. It you’re referring to us together you can call us Clint and Natasha. Not The Wonder Twins, or Mr and Mrs Smith, if Tony encourages it, don’t do it.”

Thor nods. “Ok.” He says, contemplatively.

“What do I call Bruce?”

4/ Tony

“I knew it!!” Tony yells triumphantly. “I knew it!”

Smugness written all over his face. “You can dress it up in fancy languages, be secretive on the couch, tell Steve to mind his own business, but you can’t hide the truth from me!”

Natasha looks dangerous.

Clint crosses his arms over his chest.

Tony takes a step back, finally tuned into the fact he may have crossed a line.

“And now that you allegedly know something,” Natasha says, taking a step forward and picking up a knife that’s left over from lunch, “what are you going to do with the information?”

Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “Nothing?” He phrases as a question.

Clint steps forward.

“If what you think you know, what you know, you better forget it, you see?” He says taking the knife off Natasha, and throwing it directly into the knife rack, where it lands directly in the hole.

Tony stares at his extremely deadly friends.

“Jarvis, erase the last hour of kitchen footage.” He asks.

“Good boy.” Natasha says, sarcastically, walking past him, patting his cheeks.

“Nobody’s gonna know,” Tony says to their retreating backs, “but everyone knows already.” He says more to himself in a whisper.

.

[bangteamhyuk]

Moving On

Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Angst, Producer! Min Yoongi

Warning: mentions of sex, angst, contains heavy argument (One Shot)

Word count: 3,850k

Synopsis: You went back with Yoongi to your old apartment before moving on to the next. While cleaning, fixing, and rummaging all of the things inside, you two began to reminisce your life when you were still building your dreams together. Until he saw his old broken piano, then reality hits the two of you.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” you tried to catch your breath after rushing on to the stairs. Three floors were pretty tough for someone bringing cleaning tools, while hoping not to disappoint the person who was waiting for you for half an hour on the other end.

Yoongi turned around and crouched down a bit to see if you are fine “It’s okay. I’m sure you have reasons” He took the broomstick from your hand and put it together with the big vacuum cleaner he was holding. He paused for a moment and smiled at the sight of a white but clear oval diamond ring you were wearing. Your engagement rings.

You quickly blushed and turned away, flustered at the sight of Yoongi smiling at you. “Bunch of Min residents. Still cracks me up” you chuckled at the stick figure faces of you and Yoongi looking mean as the welcome door mat.

“Yeah, you thought of that” he pulled out the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.

“But you were the one who drew those faces, Yoongi Matisse” you remarked as you fixed your hair. He scoffed as he put on his hairband.

“Ready to clean our stuff?” he asked. You nodded.

Yoongi went inside first and opened the curtain from the window on the front, giving light inside the studio apartment that were filled with dusts and memories. You followed. You turned around to see cobwebs around the table occupied with pictures, knick-knacks from all the travel you two had been, and even crumpled grocery receipts hidden on the side.

“5 good years huh?” you spoke, brushing your finger on the table to see how much dirt occurred over the years.

“Uhuh, 5 good years, and now we’re ready to move out Y/N” he replied.

“Look if we put the couch on the center, our visitor might think we’re bunch of couch potatoes. First impression last babe” you reasoned, as you sat beside Yoongi on the bare wooden floor of the room.

He shook his head “Y/N, I’m just saying that we needed to be reminded that it’s okay to rest once we get home, that’s why I was thinking that the couch should be there. Besides are we really going to admit and entertain guess here?” he gave you one tough argument that was hard not to consider.

“Ok fine, but what if I’m feeling a little frisky and want to do it while we watch TV? And then a burglar came from the door, right?” you turn to look at him with conviction in your eyes then continued “All I’m trying to say is that, putting it on the center have its disadvantage. Would you want your dick to be seen by a stranger, worse to a voyeur burglar?” you raised your arms and pointed it with your open palms at a non-existent couch against the other side of the empty room.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth in disgust “I can’t believe hearing this poor argument just to convince me in putting…” he paused then sighed “Fine, let’s put the TV and couch on the right side and the dinner table at the center” he conceded.

“Happy girlfriend equals happy life” you smiled at your victory. Yoongi turned to you and smiled dryly. You chuckled.

“We’re going to build our dreams here…” he spoke softly while staring at the open window in the midst of vacant space between the two of you. You stared at him and lingered for a moment.

“Yes, we will” you smiled, as you turned to stare at the open window as well, filling the bareness of the room with all your hopes and dreams together, as you closed your eyes.

“Achoo!” you sneezed as you open your eyes again, while patting the dusted couch and pulling the cushion seats out. Yoongi was mopping the hardwood floor, while you on the other hand was preparing to vacuum the old couch. Suddenly you saw something, you didn’t expect.

“Ugh Yoongi!” you burst into laughter. “What?” Yoongi quickly went towards you on the old couch as you pulled out something hidden underneath the seat.

“Your dried out condom! Ugh, gross!” you exclaimed as he grinned showing you his gummy smile that you love so dearly “I told you to put them to the trash, every time! Ugh! Good thing I found it before we sell these…” your face turned sour as you held on its tip and quickly tossed it on to the trash bin. “You know what, I think we should hand them over to the cleaners first before selling them. It’s been unused for 2 years…”

“You know for 5 years since we planned to put furniture on our place, I just realized we had a really great time with that couch” he stressed the world ‘really’ which made you blushed immediately, and well a bit annoyed at the same time. “Not once did we had any visitor, not even that voyeur burglar you were talking about” he raised one of his eye brow and smirked.

You quickly pulled out the dusted pillow and threw at him. “What? I’m just saying it wouldn’t matter if we put it on the center or not.” he laughed.

“Okay, Nostradamus. Let’s get back to business. I have book signing to attend to later” you turned your back to continue cleaning the couch while you heard him chuckle once more and resumed to mop the floor.

“What’s this surprise?” you tried to reach out for something, while Yoongi was making sure you can’t see anything through the blindfold.

“Take another two steps to the front. Here. Great. Now! The big reveal!” he slowly opened the blindfold as he showed you his D-I-Y wooden desk situated beside the apartment’s lone window.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” You gasped. “You made these? Even the succulents on the desk?” you hurriedly went to your new work desk and examined everything over and underneath it. You opened one of the drawers and saw a 20-dollar cat design fountain pen you’ve been eyeing for weeks in the department store “Yoongi, thank you!” you held it to your chest.

“Well, I did the wood work but not the succulents. I just..” he scratched the back of his neck. “add that for a little touch, you know, something to ease your stress when writing stories”

You quickly ran up to him for a kiss. “Yoongi, thank you! I love it! I love you!” he grinned.

“Can you kiss me again? Maybe deepen it?” you obliged, but parted for a second. “But if my work space is on the window then… where is yours?” you asked.

He shrugs. “I can stay at our bed. I mean, I’m sure you don’t make much sound when your busy so it’s okay. I just needed a laptop and my guitar to make music” you smiled weakly. “It’s really okay babe, it’s a win-win situation. Look at this way, if you put my workspace near the window, I might include unnecessary noise from the outside. This is great!” he hugged you tight, assuring you that all is well.

“We’ll make our dreams happen in this apartment, you and I” he kissed your forehead, reminding you that you are not alone in this city trying to make it big one day. “I’m here for you always Y/N”

“I’ll always be here for you too Yoongi. We will definitely make it happen” you closed your eyes, and rest your head on his chest. You two stayed like that for a while.

“How much do you think this desk would cost?” you tap the pen on your cheek.

“I deserve a $200 for this!” he pointed at the desk. “It took me a day to figure out how to assemble everything, and I had to scratch each side with a small sandpaper for an hour Y/N! An hour! Just so you wouldn’t get hurt over its sharp edges. So yes, I demand a $200 refund for this!” he raised his eyebrow to show you how much he protests at the thought of not being able to find a just compensation for his hard work.

“But Yoongi, it’s been used for over 3 years and unused for over 2, so expect it has some scratches around and the faint smell of old wood, so $100?” you examined the whole piece, while waiting for Yoongi to agree

He closed his eyes and shook his head “175!”

“150? Last price” you faced him.

“Fine. 150” he sighed, finally agreeing to the unjust price. You then wrote the price on the note pad.

Yoongi crouched down and rummaged through the piles of things on the floor, left untouched for 2 years and saw something familiar.

“Yoongi, what if we include the chair and then we can ask for $200 deal—” you stopped midway as you saw Yoongi pulled out his electric piano, all broken.

“Open the box babe!” you watched him open the huge ribbon and tore out the wrapper on the floor. You went to the table and refilled two glasses with cheap wine.

“Oh babe, you don’t have to” he gently pulled the brand new portable electric piano from the box.

“Happy 3rd anniversary!” you handed over his share of wine. As he pulled you down to where he sat, and you fell on his lap. “Oops, careful the wine might---”  He didn’t even let you finish when he kissed you hard just to show you how grateful he was for the gift.

“Mmm…” you chuckled as you parted from the kiss and turn to the piano. You brushed your fingertips at the piano keys and smile “The greatest song of all time will be made here, in this piano. I’m claiming it!”

He hugged you tight as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I definitely will. I love you so much!”

“You know, we can still have that fixed and sell it for…”

“No!” he exclaimed sternly. “I’ll keep it” he looked down; a bit embarrassed at his quick reaction.

You looked away, unsure what to say. You thought it was useless to keep something old and broken, but you guess it’s better that way. To let him keep a piece of you, the old you that he once knew.

“Congratulation’s Min Yoongi!” you popped the party pooper from the front door surprising Yoongi.

“Didn’t you see the live steam? The song I produced didn’t won” he closed the door and tossed the key to table.

“Doesn’t matter, the real winner is at home now! Yay!” you blew the party horn from his side, playfully tickling his ears. He brushed it down and pulled himself away, clearly annoyed.

You followed him still “It was great! The KMA failed to recognize it this year, who knows the next song you produ--- ”

“I don’t care about next year, or the next, and the next after that! It’s been 3 years, Y/N. 3 years since we’ve moved here and where has it gotten us? Nowhere!” he snapped.

You opened your mouth but quickly withdrew as you knew that saying anything further might make him more upset. “Baby, I…” you pulled him for a hug and gently stroke his back. “I understand how frustrated you are…” he shook his head and gently stepped away.

“No, you don’t. It’s easy for you to say, having a stable office job while you write as a hobby. But I only know how to produce music, it’s the only job I know! You don’t get to know, because you don’t have to rely for an award to know how good or shitty your stories are!” he snapped in anger.

You bit your lips and tried to process the situation, hoping you’ll say something to make him feel okay “Yoongi, I’m sorry that I don’t get to know that, but you know that I didn’t have much choice, but if I could I wanted to write full-time and you know that… We needed something on our table and---”

“So, it’s my fault now? That doing pizza delivery as part-time is not enough?” he didn’t even let you finished.

“I’m not saying that!” you finally cried, as you wiped your eyes with the back of your hands in frustration.

“Well then, tell me what? Because I find it hard to convince myself that it is not what you meant” he gave a sarcastic chuckle.

“Yoongi, why are we doing this? I’m just trying to help. Didn’t you say we’re going to make our dreams come true in this city, in this place, together!?”

“Well, you’re not helping, and clearly it isn’t happening.” He looked away as he took the opened bottle of wine you left on the table and chugged on it.

You looked to the ceiling and let out a long sigh “You know, I tried. For 3 years…” you nodded to yourself as you stared at the ceiling for a moment then at Yoongi. “I’ve seen you struggled. I’ve seen you succeed. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst. I saw you strive hard than anyone can in making songs, several of it! It was great, and I’m not just saying it because you’re my boyfriend but because I believe in you Yoongi. I believe in you, because I love you. I trust you no matter what, I trust that you’ll make it happen… Make US happen!” you paused.

“…But the way that’s been going lately? The way you pushed me aside, not wanting to talk things over. Having more arguments with you each day. Aren’t you tired? Instead of growing together, we’re just…growing apart!” you continued, shutting your eyes to the cold reality. You took a deep breath and pulled a glass from the kitchen sink and filled it water. You drank a glass full of it, hoping it’ll drown down the pain. He fell silent.

“You know what? Let’s…” you sighed at the thought “Break-up” you took your spare key and your bag hanging from the wall.

“Fine, leave!” he hit something aimlessly and heard a shriek of mismatched melody from the electric piano. You turned your back to see it, the electric piano you bought for him, broken and damaged. Like the way you and Yoongi are…

Silence.

You cleared your throat and began writing notes on your pad.

“When’s the wedding?” he turned to you while you sat a far from him.

“Next year, June 1st” you replied softly, resisting to look his way.

“Park Jimin’s a good guy…” he smiled weakly.

“He is.” You nodded. Then silence.

The only thing that broke the monotony of stillness between you and Yoongi within those four walls, was the sudden sound of a person knocking on the door from the other side. Yoongi slowly stood up, and went to the door to open and see who it was.

“Well, speak of the devil” he bit his lip and smiled at him. He wasn’t bitter or anything, in fact his smile was sincere after seeing what was in front of him, a genuine smile from you upon seeing the person you love, even if it was not him any longer.

He thought how bittersweet it was, to be someone looking through a window from the outside looking in, because he once knew what it feels like to be the source of your happiness. That smile he vividly recalls, even when he closed his eyes. Every outline, every mole, everything about you, he commits to memory even now that you’re gone.

“Are you ready for your book signing love?” Jimin chuckled.

“Did you get me food on the way?” you narrowed your prying eyes towards Jimin

He nodded “Cheeseburger with double patties, no onions but with extra pickles” he tilts his head to have you scoot over to his side.

You grinned, as you took your purse and ran towards Jimin. “See you tomorrow then? For the contract signing with Mrs. Song?” you turned your back to remind Yoongi.

Yoongi nods. “This apartment is already sold, so we just need our signatures to seal all deals”

“Mm, well, thanks. Congratulations by the way for winning KMA and MAMA for 2 consecutive years” you smiled.

“Well, the performer has a big participation to it too” he turned towards Jimin, as he shyly smiled and shook his head. “Hyung, really it’s the best music of all time!”

He raised his shoulder and looked at the dusted piano left on the floor “Not nearly, no…”

“Guess we’ll see each other around?” Jimin smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Yeah, see you” Yoongi smiled and watched you two leave.

Jimin helped you with your seatbelt as he pulled out something from the backseat.

“Iced Café Latte with grainy sugar for my beloved fiancé” he handed out

“How come you always knew the perfect time I want my coffee?” he shrugs.

“I’ve gotten some information” he winks at you and started the engine.

“Hyung, there you are. I’ve been looking for you” Jimin sat beside Yoongi under a cherry blossom outside their music studio office.

“It’s break time and it’s spring, when can I have my peace?” he turned away, looking annoyed.

“Well, I’ve been thinking if we can add more lyrics to this verse? And…” Yoongi’s phone suddenly rang to notify a text, as Jimin’s eyes widened when he saw his phone glow, displaying a photo of you that Yoongi took when you two were still together. “You know Y/N?”

“Yeah, why?” Yoongi tilt his head, clearly confused as to why Jimin knew who you are.

“But he’s my girlfriend, hyung!” he stood up, almost as if ready to fight.

“Well, um, this awkward” he squint his eyes, unbothered at Jimin’s reaction “I didn’t know really that you are…” he opened his mouth then withdrew, finding words how to explain the situation “I don’t know how to say this to you but, he’s my ex”

The two of them, chatted for a while, agreeing on things that annoys Jimin and the things you used to annoy Yoongi.

“Do you still love her?” Jimin turned to Yoongi, his face sullen, hoping that he would like to hear Yoongi’s answer from his query.

He breathed hard “You know kid, you’ll never stop loving a person even if they’re gone. Even if you were left by time, leaving you to oblivion, making you a faint memory from that person. You just don’t” he took his coffee from the vending machine that was sitting on his side and drank before he continued.

“But that doesn’t mean you want that person to be there for you forever. Knowing that she’s happy, well even more happy without me by his side, that’s more than enough. Isn’t that what love is supposed to be? Even when it doesn’t feel like romance, it changes into something, something that transcends beyond it. I can’t explain kid, but you’ll understand it someday” he turned to Jimin, hoping he didn’t touch a nerve that would make him angry.

“I really love her, hyung. My manager’s pretty upset about this whole relationship situation but I couldn’t care anymore. If they find out about us or not, I don’t care!  I’d rather admit the truth than deny and hurt her, she doesn’t deserve that. I just, I feel like she’s the one even when she’s moody and all” Jimin shyly confessed.

Yoongi nods “Jimin, you should know several things so you could avoid argument with Y/N. First, of all never underestimate her love for coffee. Never.” He straightened his palm to emphasize his statement.

“She loves coffee first thing in the morning, do not talk to her without her having a coffee yet, under any circumstance. Well, unless you don’t want a great day ahead of you, you could, but I do not recommend it all. Speaking of coffee, she would want one after having a stressful day or any stressful situation she was in. But this is important, take note, she likes sweet coffee and bitter ones on the morning.”

Jimin listened to him attentively as Yoongi continued “If she writes story, she’ll want you to read it from start to end. Do it and be honest, she hates mediocre comments so you have to be tedious about reading it. She loves it when you ask, so that’s a tip. If you fail to read everything, you can ask her. Oh, but be careful about your questions, because she’ll know when you didn’t read it all and she’ll be really upset”

Yoongi chuckled upon remembering how you love to eat unlimited BBQs “She also loves meat, like seriously a lot! So treat her to BBQs every often or else she’ll get moody for a month. She’s a heavy drinker too, so ready your liver and try to keep up with her. And lastly, never end the day without telling her how you truly feel, she’ll appreciate it, whatever it is that’s on your mind tell her. I can see the way she looks at you in that picture” he peered through Jimin’s phone on the side which was glowing due to several notifications “because that was how she used to look at me too. I bet she’ll understand you. She now loves you Jimin.”

It was already night time when Yoongi finished cleaning the room and putting everything that you two wanted to sell inside a big box. Yoongi looks at the broken piano and stared at it for a moment “I guess the greatest song of all time were never made” he stood up, picked it up and took it with him, as walked towards the door way.

He looked at the empty room, one last time “This place still smells like us, let’s not forget this scent wherever we are” he spoke softly to himself and turned the lights off.

He closed the door and saw the doormat again.

“Bunch of Min residents” you drew on the doormat. He chuckled “That’s pretty witty, wait let me add a little touch” he took the marker from you and drew your faces which made you two laughed even harder.

“This is a masterpiece! We need everyone to see this!” you quickly went to the door and put it on the entryway.

Yoongi smiled as he watched you from the couch and sighed at the thought of wanting to be with you forever. He just knew from that moment on you were the one.

He rolled the mat from the floor and tossed it to the nearest trash bin.

He knew it was too late for regrets, but at the same time he knew it was for the better. Whatever happened in the past brought you two to where you are all supposed to be now: Happy, contented but apart.

All the memories, your hopes and dreams that you two shared together, are now gone. Cleaned to make room for another one.

He looked at the door and smiled weakly “Ijen, Annyeong (Goodbye now)” and left.

Let’s move Goodbye to this place, that we grew attached to Let’s move Now to a higher place While taking the last box out of the empty room I looked back for a moment Times we cried and laughed Goodbye now

Moving On- BTS

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for getting here. Hope you’ll also like the spin-off series for this: Seesaw (Teaser)