#can the members come quickly so i can erase this bad end from my brain 😭 why did cheritz have to go all fourth wall on us

[xiaobees]

i creeped myself out by rereading the casual story bad end

[damselofblueroses]

Bambi, Chapter 1

You are my Bambi, girl, I am your candy, tell me what are you waiting for?

Summary: As an archaeologist who works on the Ancient Greece, you were on the verge of excavations’ session. While you have been preparing your team, you learned that your institute decided on your team has to work with another team as they wanted the outcome as a collaboration. The head of other team was your biggest rival, a scumbag in your eyes: Byun Baekhyun.

You two were supposed to work together for three months, in a Greek Island, Chios.

Could you manage to not kill Byun Baekhyun for three months?

Content: AU, heavily Greek mythology, enemies to friends.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story will be four or five chapters if I will not change my mind in the meantime. It is inspired by my major; however, I do not have a complete knowledge on archaeology, I am a historian. If I will make a technical mistake, please let me know. I am willing to receive any kind of feedback; you are more than welcomed to drop a message.

Chapter One: UN Village

June, Incheon Airport

Along the curves of the hill

Rolling, rolling, rolling hills

As we climb there’s a broken streetlight

When I see one, I turn off the lights under it

Baekhyun was nothing but ready for the excavation.

You were more than ready for the session.

Both of you, were nothing but two leaders who hated each other equally.

You were eyeing each other with saying no words since your teams came together in the airport. Before this particular moment of departure, you refused to meet with Byun Baekhyun, putting aside meeting with him, you refused even dropping an e-mail in order to let Sunkyungwan Team about Sejong Team. You were clear and strict as fuck, even though two teams had to work together for three months, you had zero intention to get accustomed with the other team leader.

The weather was sunny, nice and warm, however because of you and Baekhyun, your team members were feeling like they were trapped in a fucking blizzard during the coldest winter.

You were aware of your team members had positive opinions of that scoundrel, especially the girls, as you had your first-handed experiences because of your stupid classmates, Byun Baekhyun was very famous of his abilities to cast a spell on women. The problem was he was also famous as a serial dater, serial killer type of men.

A bastard, nothing more nothing less.

“Indy,” one of your team members, Minseok, called you. Although, calling you as Indy was also a habit of Minseok, it was also an obligation for the others, you insisted on calling you by your nickname or your name, instead of calling you as sunbae. You did not like the hierarchical titles. “Should we move into the control point?”

“Yeah, if you are ready.” you replied, grabbing your luggage and the rest.

“I guess we have to alert Sunkyungwan people since we will fly together.” Hyesun pointed out, your eyebrows knitted.

“I guess,” you recall her words. “They also have this information, so we do not have to alert anyone, we are not their babysitters.”

Hyesun’s cheeks were blushing after you kindly scolded her, but she was clever enough to hold her tongue. Your dislike towards Sunkyungwan was not a secret as you used every opportunity to show it. You led your team to the kiosks, counting the heads automatically. You had six here, you were going to have ten more when you arrive to Chios whose coming from all around European universities. With thirteen Sunkyungwan students, the excavation was going to shelter almost forty members. It was going to be massive, you had to admit. You never had more than twenty students in the field till now, but you were going to lead an extraordinary team as Junmyeon craved into your brain’s folds with his hammer of words.

You wished to be with Junmyeon right now, you were more tense than usual. Junmyeon could put you in more stable mood, however you even did not think to name him while the executives were asking your possible candidates. He would kill you merciless, you knew it very well.

Eh, at least you got Sehun, Junmyeon’s brother in your team, he had a lot of similarities with Junmyeon even though he could be noisier than anyone you know, however you accepted him as your dongsaeng, as his precious noona and role model, you also knew how to put him in an order. Then you had Minseok, the eternal field-partner of yours. He was older than you, although he was engaged in a Ph.D. programme in abroad, he willingly accepted your invitation. You had four seniors, Shinhye, Yixing, Jongdae and Hyesun.

To your dismay, two of the seniors who you really could want in your team, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo were in that bastard’s team. You were of the fact that they were immensely close to each other, but you wished to have them in your team as their abilities were precious.

Especially Doh Kyungsoo.

You missed that fucking bastard who preferred to be with Baekhyun.

Life, you inhaled. It was not going exactly in the way you could ask.

“On your foot, soldiers.” you called your team around you. “Do you collect all the materials you will be in need of?”

“Yeah.” Jongdae cutely pointed to his tiniest bag. “I am ready to excavate.”

“Exactly you will need every tool you have.” Shinhye smacked her husband’s shoulder. Yeah, you had a married couple in your team, although you were a year younger them, you always regarded yourself as their big sister, if not a mother. “You are going to work too much, Dae. I have sleepless nights because of the burden on your shoulders.”

You could not help but burst into laughs after the look Jongdae gave to his wife. Those idiots, they were so lovely and instead of their endless scolding sessions, they were incredibly fond of each other.

Sometimes you wonder, how having your significant other by your side would be?

You slightly shook your head, quickly climbing out of this deep cliff.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, jumping to the air. “Sejong is ready for the session!”

Baekhyun was watching you with a disgusted expression.

“Move on, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol pushed his body to forward. “We will miss the flight, Goddamnit.”

“Give him couple of minutes.” Kyungsoo chuckled. “He is fucking the girl with his eyes, frankly, he is doing it unapologetically.”

“Which girl?” Chanyeol’s eyes widened. “Do you mean, that girl? You c-

“Of course, I am not.” Baekhyun interrupted Chanyeol, staring at Kyungsoo. “She can go and fuck herself.”

“Well,” Kyungsoo stood up, placing his book into the bag. “I guess, you are going to be one to fuck her, but maybe I am wrong.”

“In her dreams.” Baekhyun laughed. “If she can manage to dream something like this, but I do not think so. That little freak can put even the nuns into a shame.”

“She is beautiful to be honest.” Chanyeol said with no different intention but observing your features carefully. “Okey maybe not the hottest girl in the town, but she is pretty, and I heard she is very clever.”

“She is.” Kyungsoo approved. “But she kicked Baekhyun’s ass twice, so he cannot endure her presence.”

“She never,” Baekhyun grunted lowly. “Kick me or my proverbial parts!”

“Did someone talk about kicking some asses?” Jongin appeared out of nowhere. “I am in.”

“Shut up, Jongin.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes. “Let’s pick the team.”

The smile on Kyungsoo’s face irritated Baekhyun, he wanted to erase that fucking grin so bad, punching his face but Baekhyun had to hold his manners as the team leader. If they would be in their flat, he could already beat the shit out of Kyungsoo, at least he would try.

Baekhyun hated the fact that Kyungsoo had the exact past with you and him. Three of you entered the department together, instead Kyungsoo went to another university to pursue his master, in the end he testified every moment between you and Baekhyun.

That’s why he was smiling since he learned you were going to be the other team leader.

Baekhyun was aware of the close relationship between you and Kyungsoo, one of his best friends.

Quickly Baekhyun led his team to the control point, close to your team. He was avoiding from this step, however as the leader, presenting his fucking team to your team was his responsibility. When they arrived, he took a deep breath.

“Good morning to all.” his blood started to boil when you turned to him with a displeased face expression. Your eyebrows were knitted, your fucking lips formed as a thick line, your dislike was palpable and Baekhyun knew his own face was mirroring your feelings. “I hope you are fine, could you let me present my team to you?”

Baekhyun wanted nothing but cut the shit off.

“Good morning.” you answered between your teeth. Your voice sounded extremely creepy. “Yeah, go for it.”

You do not make a favour to me, bloody woman, Baekhyun thought but he put all his efforts to control his words.

“My name is Byun Baekhyun, I am going to lead Sunkyungwan Team this year.” he looked at your team members, quickly memorized their faces. “I really look forward to work with you, I wish a good session for us. They are my members, Park Chanyeol, Doh Kyungsoo, Kim Jongin, Kim Danbi, Lee Taemin, Lee Donghae, Kim Jonghyun, Kim Kibum, Lee Seungjo, Kang Seulgi, Im Yoona, Kim Taeyeon and Kwon Yuri.”

“You are like a troop, huh?” one of your girls smiled after Baekhyun finished his presentation.

“More or less.” Baekhyun smiled back to her. What a surprise to him was the transformation of your face. You warmly smiled to the members and bowed to each of them.

Baekhyun raised his left eyebrow, but he could not avert his eyes from your smiling face.

It was pleasant like a spring day and when you smile your eyes were shining.

“Thank you.” he heard your voice. “My team is not big as yours, Park Shinhye, Kim Jongdae, Zhang Yixing, Oh Sehun, Kim Minseok and Song Hyesun.”

“You forget yourself.” Minseok slapped his forehead and rolled his eyes. “Indy is going to lead Sejong Team as she has been leading us for the last two years, you can put your faith on her, she is the greatest.”

“Indy?” Jongin repeated your nickname with a surprised face. “Are you foreigner?”

“Do I look like?” you laughed and prevented yourself from flinching his forehead. He was such a cute kid. “That’s how my team call me.”

“Ah.” Jongin blushed and you could not control yourself anymore.

“But if you want, you can also call me as Indy.” you grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Everything must be equal for the teams since we are going to live together during a whole summer.”

“I would like to.” Jongin bowed to you.

“So do we need to add sunbae when we call you?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Have you ever called me as a sunbae, Doh Kyungsoo?” you coldly replied. “Did Sunkyungwan change your behaviours?”

“Gardens of roses turn to garths of thorns in a second.” Kyungsoo murmured but he was smiling to you, then he opened his arms, catching you off guard because you knew that Kyungsoo was not a huge fan of hugs. “Will you salute me as a good friend, or will I start calling you as sunbae?”

“Shut the fuck up, Doh.” you inhaled, but actually you were happy to see your still-working-on friendship. You moved to hug him, he held you tightly and lifted you to the air, then turned around himself, made you laugh like a 5-year-old girl.

Baekhyun did not like what was happening before his eyes. Kyungsoo had to be with Baekhyun, not hugging you for his fucking dear life, or lifting and turning you around like you were very dear to him. He hated sharing his friends with you, he already lost Junmyeon, he wanted to keep Kyungsoo and Chanyeol to himself. You should be fucking away from them, they were Baekhyun’s and only Baekhyun’s friends.

And there was another fragile issue that Baekhyun had been keeping in the deepest point of his heart and mind, like the palace of Nyx in the darkest part of Tartarus. Extremely delicate, horrendous, and even atrocious.

Baekhyun was aware of a strange presence was lying down beneath his hatred, dislike and continuous loathe towards you, there was a layer of curiosity, something could feed different layers and causing an earthquake in his life. Baekhyun knew that you were his biggest rival, but you became his rival by your talents and intelligence. He knew this and this piece of realization doubled his hate towards you.

The funny part was the things he did not realize. Baekhyun was full of confidence, he was capable of performing even miracles, however he never perceive the fact that you were also a miracle.

“So, what we are going to do?” Chanyeol asked to everyone with a huge, happy smile. Baekhyun fended himself off moaning, happy virus Chanyeol already sensed the chance of levitating the mood between the teams and playing along with it. “Are we boarding?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” one of your boys, Sehun, came close to Chanyeol. Baekhyun and you immediately glared them, noticing the chemistry between these two. Both of you wished to keep the teams apart from each other in order to reduce the obliged interactions between the leaders, but it seemed not possible even from the beginning. Baekhyun was cursing between his lips, you were swearing at the executive board in your mind.

“Indy,” Shinhye whispered to you. “Are you okey? You look like wanting to kill one of us.”

“Not you.” you answered without thinking, then registered to your words. “Ignore me, Shinhye, I am a little bit tense right now.”

“We got your back.” she blinked at you and held Jongdae’s hand. “Let’s start the adventure!”

What an adventure, you thought but silently joined them. Kyungsoo also was walking next to you.

“Why the heck you went to Sunkyungwan?” you spilled the bean. “I always believed you would stay in Sejong.”

“Yeah, that was my intention.” Kyungsoo was plain as always. “However, Sunkyungwan gives me more opportunities to secure my career, Indy.”

“I know.” you had to admit. Sejong was not generous as Sunkyungwan. “Sorry for my selfish words.”

“No worries.” he beamed. “It happens all the time, but I am really happy to work with you again.”

“Old but gold days, huh?”

“Well, it was not purely gold,” Kyungsoo followed the flows and ebbs. “Do you remember when we were almost expelled from the university?”

“Is there a way to forget those days?” you immediately took a look on Baekhyun. It was his fault, obviously. “We were shitting in our pants instead of the one who put us in that situation.”

“Come on,” Kyungsoo chuckled. “It was not only his fault, Indy, our hands were also crimson red.”

“Let me recall the memory, Doh,” you pinched his hand, he playfully pushed your fingers. “Excuse me if I am wrong, however that scumbag was the one who challenged you to confiscate the coin, because of your involvement into the incident, I had no choice but dragging your ass out of shit.”

“They caught two of us in the crime field.” Kyungsoo burst into laughs. “Professor Lee went ballistic and scolded us like we just killed a person cold heartedly.”

“And you could not see the reason behind it?” You were cutting Kyungsoo’s body with your eyes. “If someone tries to steal a coin from the excavation house during the session, I will kill them for sure. We were so lucky, the one who caught us was Professor Lee.”

“I heard you are strictest when it comes to excavation.” Kyungsoo assured you. “But try to not kill us.”

“The only one I am going to take down,” you shivered with the memory, Kyungsoo was already regretful to remind it to you. Well, maybe not so much because he wanted you and Baekhyun to realize the potential relationship you could have, and the easiest way in order to put you two in touch was making you angry. “That bastard if he will behave like the old days. We are not children anymore.”

“Have you ever been a kid?”

“Fuck off, Kyungsoo.”

“You did not change even a bit, Indy.” Kyungsoo made his statement. Obviously, you were going to keep this to yourself, taking his silent approval made you were more than happy. “You are still a pain in the ass.”

“And you are still a good boy.” you grinned, watching his lips formed around silent laughs. “Such a cute puppy for me, let me see your wagging tail.”

“I am sorry to interrupt your flirting session,” Kyungsoo turned to Baekhyun’s deadpanned face. “However, we have to move.”

“When you come across to a pretty girl,” Kyungsoo did not miss the chance of returning the favour. “You have to flirt with her. Wasn’t it your advice?”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun looked at you, then turned to Kyungsoo.

You knew what was going to happen.

“He said pretty girls,” you tucked the words in Baekhyun’s mouth before he could open his fucking damn mouth. “To my dismay, I have never been pretty to correspond the standards of Byun Baekhyun the Magnificent. I am crying for the lack of beauty almost every night, I mean living without Byun Baekhyun’s interests… Such a misery.”

Kyungsoo bit his lower lip in order to hold his laugh, Baekhyun’s fists were clenching but you did not stop there.

"Ah I almost forget to ask for the name of that little village, Baekhyun.” you directly looked at his eyes since ages. “Where the girl you desperately wanted to bless with your attention left you? UN Village?”

You immediately spin on your tiptoes, then slipped towards to Sehun, leaving two of them behind of you, refusing to look at back. In the meantime, Baekhyun was throwing daggers to your back, grinding his teeth, his jaw was extremely tensed. Before Kyungsoo could stop him, he swiftly came to your side, you felt his breath on your neck.

You shivered.

You fucking shivered and Baekhyun noticed that.

“You are playing with the fire, as always.” he whispered to your ear before someone could notice what he was doing. “Did you forget who was burning with fire, baby girl?”

He quickly disappeared and started to make such a fuss in order to gather his team members around himself. You were frozen, after years, you were frozen, you missed the little smile on the corner of Baekhyun’s mouth.

You were on the verge of screaming because of the frustration you had felt. You forced yourself to proceed, walked into the plane, helped your team in order to set their belongings and place into their seats, then you retreated your own seat. It was comfortable and you could easily snatch a blanket. Your wish became true, even quicker than you expected because Sehun, your wonderful Sehun, already brought a soft blanket for you. You smiled at him, actually forgiving him for building bonds with Chanyeol since they changed their seats in order to sit next to each other and weaved your legs around the fabric.

Your brain was in autopilot, you were lost in the horrible memories. You did not want to recall them, you buried them into the cemetery of your memory. You wished nothing but never remember that day.

The day in that village.

Baekhyun was mad at himself.

His face was clouded, for the first time he was silent and sitting on the farthest seat in the plane. He really wanted to be alone, and since being vocal about his feeling was so natural for him, he told his need to the team. They willingly let him to do what he wanted, as a result, he was looking out of window, hell if a person could see something out of a plane’s window, and he was cursing himself.

He knew it was going to be a chess play. Between you and him.

It has been always like the chess.

There was a bond between you and Baekhyun, even thought you two always refused it, you also were aware of that bond. You equally hated each other and if there was a thing which could make you happier than seeing each other’s downfalls, that was the opportunity of being the one who digs the other’s grave by their hands.

He was sure on he was going to be the one who sets your body on fire, then finishes you. He was sure on he was going to be the victor, the one and only champion.

When he kills you, erases your name for all eternity, when he condemns you with demnatio memoriae, he will calmly breathe again.

You were a pain in the ass, even when you were not around of Baekhyun, you had a place in his mind since that fucking day he met you. Your presence was like a tree, how much he could try, he could neither find your roots in his mind nor cut them all.

You were his enemy; he was going to treat you as you deserved.

There would be no turning back.

But…

He was mad at himself.

He made a wrong move while he was trying to disturb you, shake your cage in order to give you a lesson.

He also remembered.

The day in that fucking village.

[dazaimency]

Under Your Guidance, I Fell in Love - Prologue

You can find future chapters on my AO3! Here, I’ll only post the prologue. I hope you will enjoy my new Shigaraki x Reader project! Gonna be a long one, and to summarise it in tags: slow burn, angst, lov as family, it will get worse before it gets better

Shigaraki x Reader / Prologue

Trained and raised to make sure you fulfill your Master's wishes, you are sent on a mission to make Shigaraki Tomura fall in love with you and grow into the leader he is supposed to be. Soon after joining the League of Villains, complications arise.

AO3 LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33437170/chapters/83061598

--

“Your mission is about to commence, darling,” a cold, deep voice echoes from behind you. Shivers avoid you after years of training and you turn around to come face to face with your Master.

“Of course. The meeting point hasn't changed, I assume?”

All for One only nods and hands you a black sport bag. It's filled with various clothes, hygiene objects, and with some little personal belongings that will soon belong to you and your established persona.

“Go be his guidance, my dear. Make me proud,” you nod and put on a smile. Your mimic muscles fall easily into the practice move. Turning around, you glimpse at All for One for one last time before both of you disappear into the night.

--

It rains heavily as you enter the bar accompanied by Giran. You let out an exhale once you cross the threshold, only to breathe in the stale air from the room. You aren't even fully inside yet and the atmosphere is heavy.

According to your Master, Shigaraki Tomura had already recruited two other members, and even if they did end up in the organization, their rapport was anything but friendly. Toga was too eccentric and Dabi had no problem letting his mouth run as it pleased, ending up in a quarrel between him and your target.

This meeting was supposed to go smoothly, to calm down both Shigaraki Tomura and the new recruits. They needed at least some form of stability and friendly manners that could eventually grow into comradery. And you would do everything in your powers to ensure that the next hour will go swimmingly.

You shake off the water from your coat as you take it off, faking a nervous smile in Giran's direction. After all, you were supposed to be the local murderous sweetheart. Well, at least as much of a sweetheart that a villain could be. More like a nice healer that hates heroes and will do anything to help the fight against them.

Giran nodded and guided you further inside while lighting a cigarette. The door opens with a crack, revealing a dim light of the bar. Kurogiri, the mist man, is standing behind the bar, polishing spotless looking glasses. He seems to be talking in a hushed voice to your target. You can only see his lean figure covered in a black shirt. As expected, he has his family on him.

You quickly take control of your hitched breath. Shigaraki Tomura looks different from the photos you had seen. Even with his back turnt, you notice his slimness and pale hair that actually looks fluffier. It may not feel bad to run your hand through them, you wonder.

The broker lets out a puff before he speaks, not waiting for him to turn around. “Shigaraki, this is (L/N) (Y/N). The healer you asked for. Her criminal record is basically spotless, but that doesn't really mean anything, does it? She can heal you, and herself, and she hates heroes as much as the next guy. I can only assume she will make a fine admission to the team,” he finishes his monologue before smirking at you and going off to the corner.

You take a deep breath, trying not to cringe. Before you can open your mouth, Shigaraki Tomura straightens his back, effectively making you wait like a good subject-to-be. He looks at you over his shoulder. Father still in place as crimson eyes scan over your body, judging your frame.

He scoffs and returns to his glass, one finger carefully circling the edge. “So, how does your quirk work?”

“I can accelerate cell regeneration to restore missing limbs or heal wounds. It works on other people as…”

“Missing limbs, you say?” he finishes his drink as he interrupts you, putting the glass down with a strong thud. You wait for him to continue but even with his face facing the other way, you can say he is deep in thought. Shigaraki Tomura’s fingers braze the hands of his dead relatives until they settle on Father. Gently, it is put down next to the glass.

Suddenly, he turns around to get off the stool and straightens, standing in full height in front of you. You remember his height, weight, and every little detail that is known about him from your files but nothing could prepare you to meet him face to face. His features were softer, a sparkling contrast to the strained expressions he always wore on photos.

The depth of Tomura’s red eyes gained an edge, erasing all softness. Or maybe there never was one to begin with. You realized he was expecting an answer, a slight test on how you managed confrontation.

A wave of confusion ran through you, carefully hidden from your face. You saw the tape of how the recruitment went while preparing for your debut. Mentioning Stain or All Might was a big no-no, unless you wanted to be decayed faster than you could heal, but after the outburst with Toga and Dabi, you expected to find yourself in a similar situation. However, it looked like the manchild was able to actually put some thought into this.

“Yes, sir,” you quickly respond, pushing your chin forward. Before you can elaborate a sharp, unbearable pain starts to cruise through your veins. You let out a scream as you watch your left hand disappear into nothingness. Your life and Master have given you a fair share of pain but nothing could prepare you for the phantom of your limb.

His hand moves away before the decay spreads but the agony stays the same. In horror, you realise you are standing in the puddle of your own blood as he slides back to the chair. Drops of blood fall down in an uneven rhythm from what stayed from your arm. “Heal it then, if you can.”

You want to spit at him, kick him and yell insults, but the sharp voice of your Master in your head reminds you of your mission. And for it, Shigaraki Tomura must, unfortunately, stay alive, and you in his good graces.

Still, you let out a few curses as you focus on your left arm. It takes a few moments before the healing itch registers in your brain over the pain, and soon, you flex your fingers, cracking a few knuckles when it grows back.

You should have expected an outburst like this but you didn’t think you would ever come to harm, not after yesterday Kurogiri stopped everyone from killing each other. Maybe he was too slow to react this time, or rather, Shigaraki Tomura convinced him beforehand not to. From what you knew about his current caretaker and portal man, he was more compassionate than the rest of the villains. Still, ignoring your professionalism, you glare at him and your target as you uncomfortably flex your hand.

Shigaraki Tomura looks as unimpressed as always when he puts Father back onto his face. A low groan and an exhale escapes him once it’s set in place. Tension that you hadn’t noticed before seemed to evaporate from him.

“She may be useful after all, Giran. Sort the payment out with Kurogiri, I’m leaving,” with these words, he sets off to a long hall, not bothering to look at anyone in the room. You can only bite your tongue and remember your Master’s words. You were trained to handle him, take care of him, and a few days back you were fully confident you would fulfill All for One’s wishes, but after spending a few minutes in your target’s presence, the harsh reality only laughed at your hopes. Making Shigaraki Tomura fall in love with you and grow up certainly wasn’t going to be easy.

[star-spangledstud]

MIND GAMES - TWO

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve suggests dinner with the team. You find out you hate lying. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence, anxiety 

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :)

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

A hail of half-empty wine glasses, trail mix and playing cards fly around the room when the coffee table they were stood on is flipped upside down. Your back hits the carpet with a dull thud, followed soon after by the back of your head. You wince loudly, hand reaching immediately for the base of your skull to relieve the throbbing pain that will no doubt leave you with a menacing headache for days to come.

The men in black, whose faces are nothing but a swirl of flesh tones in your peripheral, grab you by each ankle while you try to recover from your fall. They shout in a foreign language as glass shatters somewhere in one of the other rooms. Then, the sound of open gunfire and the scent of smoke and gunpowder pervade the air. You’re screaming, kicking your feet and flailing your arms wildly while they drag you along the floor, but the sound of your voice is drowned out by the shouting and the guns.

Glass and trailmix accumulate in your hair when they drag you across the room, and small pieces cut the back of your arms and legs. You’re crying, you can tell because your cheeks are warm and wet, and the tears flowing from your eyes mix with the blood of your dead family as they run down the length of your face.

The good thing is you know you’re having a bad dream, but the problem is that you’ve seen this scene unfold so many times that you’re not sure whether the memory of what happened is real or not. 

You’ve seen the scene play out well over one hundred times in your sleep. Red liquid flies through the air in slow motion, your assailants shove their weapons in your face, you try to run away but feel nailed to the ground. You’ve experienced it so many times, and have attempted to change what happens in so many instances. Still, whatever you do, the ending is always the same.

The faces of the men responsible for the murder of your family are blurry, not because you hit your head so hard you can’t see straight, but because you don’t remember what they look like. Their features are warped beyond recognition, and no matter how hard you try to focus on the words spilling from their mouths, you can’t identify any of what they’re saying. It almost sounds like you’re underwater.

In the dream, you try to remember where you are, but your immediate surroundings change every time. Sometimes the coffee table is glass, sometimes it’s wood. The wallpaper shows a different pattern each time you look at it, and the dead bodies scattered all around the room have the same undefined features as your assailants. The only thing that remains the same is the feeling of absolute hopelessness and terror as they drag you away to an unmarked aeroplane that takes you somewhere in Eastern Europe. 

Poland, maybe. You can’t remember, even though you came to spend the next seven years of your life there.

Nearly every one of these dreams is the same. It’s just you, watching scenes of your life unfold through a thick curtain of smoke that hides the most distinct, essential details. A large, gaping black hole has been punched through the part of your brain responsible for the production of memories. No matter how hard you try to fill in the blank spaces, it proves to be absolutely impossible. 

Whatever HYDRA did to erase your memories, it worked.

It’s hard to think straight when you wake up in the middle of the night, images of the dream you just had still playing before your eyes. You hoped that getting further away from the people that created those dreadful memories would allow the pictures to go away. Yet, as you sit up straight in bed, chest heaving up and down in rapid motions, you know they followed you even here, like a thundercloud continuously looming over you.

As your first week in the compound comes to a close, you find yourself slowly getting settled into your new home. With Steve practically following you around every chance he gets, the two of you take the time exploring the entire building from top to bottom. He shows you the library, the garage, the gym and the lab, and promises to take you to the theatre the next time the team hosts a movie night. 

You don’t tell him you haven’t seen a single movie in years, but the words are on the tip of your tongue while he rattles on about 21st century flicks he was forced to watch and ended up really loving.

When the two of you walk along the corridors of the compound, it’s mostly him who talks while you do the listening. You don’t mind it. It gives you time to think. While he speaks, you find yourself trying to dissect the inside of his mind. Still, no matter how hard you listen, all that comes up is silence. It’s odd not to be distracted by a second voice in your head. You’re not used to the simplicity of not having to focus on what’s coming from the other person’s mouth instead of what’s coming from their thoughts.

Each day that passes, Steve introduces you to a new member of the team. The first person you come across is Sam Wilson, who you find running on the treadmill two days after your arrival. He immediately takes a liking to you, and you end up chatting for nearly an hour straight. His thoughts are almost deafening, but his sense of humour makes up for his internal volume.

By the time Saturday rolls around, you find yourself able to chat comfortably with everyone you’ve met so far. Even Tony Stark, who appears at first to be quite wary of your presence despite giving you a place to stay, engages in conversation with you over a cup of black coffee. It’s relatively easy to befriend people when you can see straight through them, especially when they aren’t aware of your abilities.

Still, it’s odd how easily all of them have accepted you into their little bubble.

“Are you okay?”

Unease blooms in the pit of your stomach when you realize you’ve been quiet for nearly fifteen minutes, and your palms instantly begin to sweat.

“Yeah,” you quickly conjure up a smile, “just thinking.”

“About what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Steve asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully, “I feel like this is all very weird.”

Sam raises a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You guys don’t even really know me,” you remind him, “and you’re giving me shelter. I’m just having trouble wrapping my head around all of this.”

“We’ve read your file,” Steve bites his lower lip, “letting you in was a collective decision, made by all of us.”

Sam nods in agreement, arms crossed tight over his chest. 

Wondering what exactly is written in this so-called file, you chuckle dryly, “no offence guys, but I think that file might be missing a few important details.”

Steve blushes, “a lot of it was blacked out. Look, maybe we should all come together tonight, have dinner or something. You can tell us more about yourself if you want.”

“Yeah,” Sam exclaims, “good idea, cap.” 

Your heart picks up, pushing your pulse while you slowly nod your head, “sure.”

“Great,” Steve steps towards his own room and places his palm on the fingerprint scanner, “we’ll let everybody know.”

Sam turns around and heads for his own room. You quickly disappear into the safety of your bedroom and slam the door shut a little too hard in the process.

“Crap,” you mutter to yourself, “fuck!”

You are not looking forward to this.

“What do you mean, you’ve never heard of Asgard?!” 

Thor’s voice booms over the sound of clinking cutlery and laughter. You slowly lift your shoulders before taking a large sip of water, allowing the cold beverage to relieve the tension in the back of your throat. 

It’s hard to keep all the buzzing internal monologues in the back of your mind, and it takes a moment for you to center yourself before you can answer Thor’s burning question. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I just never had a chance to read up on Norse mythology. Please forgive me. I’m sure it’s a beautiful place.” 

It is beautiful, Thor pouts, I miss it. 

“I’m sure you miss it very much,” you add quickly, to which he smiles sadly. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Tony smirks, “he has a big ego and a tiny brain.”

You nearly choke on your water when he winks in your direction. You roll your shoulders to rid yourself of the tension building in your muscles and prepare yourself for the direction the conversation is headed next. 

“So, Y/N,” Tony continues, “how do you know Fury?” 

Of course you knew he was going to ask this. He’s been thinking about it for the last fifteen minutes. Still, heat rises to your cheeks when you place your glass down, and you push a few stray strands of hair from your face and tuck them behind your ear. Your heart is pounding now, but in a room full of enhanced people, including some of the world’s best spies, you know better than to allow yourself to freak out.

Steve, who’s seated right next to you, shifts in his seat. The action, albeit hardly noticeable, startles you anyway, and your eyes fly in his direction out of reflex. You think he looks nice, dressed in a cream colored sweater with his hair swooped to one side, and in a fit of insanity, you’re tempted to compliment him and ignore Tony all together. 

“I don’t actually,” you say slowly, “My mom did, before she passed away. They knew each other before SHIELD was even a thing, when they were still young.” 

“So how’d you get his number?” Clint questions. 

“My mom gave it to me be before she died, told me to call it if I ever needed help.” 

“What’d you need help for?” he continues. 

“Clint, that’s enough-” Steve says before you can answer. 

“No, it’s okay,” you gently touch his arm, “my family got caught up with the wrong people a long time ago. Since the death of my mother tensions have only gotten worse. Fury offered me a place to stay while I wait for things to settle down.”

“What kind of people?” Natasha asks while she lays her fork down. 

“I think Fury can tell you more about that than I can,” you take a bite of your potatoes, “my mom did her best to shelter me.”

Your gaze flies back and forth between Natasha and Steve, and you begin to pray that she out of everyone at this table believes your story. You’re hyper aware of every move you make, and the tension in the air is almost too much for you to bear.

The crease between Steve’s brows and his hunched shoulders make you more uncomfortable. You read the room to make sure they believe you, before picking up your glass and taking another sip of water. Slowly, the conversation dies down, and you’re left with shallow breathing and red cheeks by the time Tony and Sam begin a discussion about a video game they were playing last night. 

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice is soft in your ear. The unmistakable hint of concern is evident in its tone when it breaks through your thoughts, and you quickly nod as to not alarm him any further.

When you walk back to your room later that evening,  you can’t ignore the painful twist in your stomach. Your hands are tightened into fists by the time you enter your dorm, and the need to swallow away the lump in your throat is nearly overbearing. You could never tell them you used to work for HYDRA, not in a million years. They would cast you out immediately, send your ass to the curb or lock you away in a federal prison for the rest of your life before they’d let you get away with it.

You didn’t think lying to people you hardly know could hurt this much. 

NEXT CHAPTER.

Taglist:

@foxyjwls007​ @littlegasps​ @hurricane-abigail​ @idk123906​

[deripmaver]

4 5 6 for ALL OF THE CaPri FANFICS

LKSJMDHGVLKSJ ALL OF THEM???

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? 5: What part was hardest to write? 6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

Ink On Paper (tongue fic) 4. lmfaoooooooo there isn't a whole lot of dialogue in this one oop-

Laurent nodded. The wax softened as he pressed his hand into it, erasing his previous message. Soft, warm, melting under his touch. He wrote again, I need someone who is not afraid to read out the insults I make towards the idiots at court. You have been fired, Damianos.

i guess it technically counts lmfao. i just wanted to show laurent post-trauma still able to make jokes and snipe at his husband so it wasnt all doom and gloom 5. i'm not sure exactly what "hardest to write" here means because like... a lot of these fic have serious gore or otherwise upsetting content, but both emotionally and actually writing wise i find that kind of thing actually pretty easy to write hahahaha. i think i got stuck with the chronology and the decision to make it non-linear made it flow a lot better. for the record writing laurent getting raped and then having his tongue cut out was actually very easy to write, i think i got it out in basically one go. #cancelme the more fucked up and intense the easier i find to nyoom through it 6. my first ever fic in the capri fandom!!!! hehehehhehehe <333333 Level Of Concern (plan B fic) 4.

Before Nicaise could say anything, Laurent spat, “Does he know you had your first heat?”

SURPRISE nic was the one who was pregnant the whole time!!!!!!! 5. this one i banged out REALLY quickly so i cant think of anything here 6. capri omegaverse!!!!!!! i wish there was more of this 🥺🥺🥺 Like Me (what if Auguste was also abused fic) 4. ******CW INCEST MENTION CW ABUSE MENTION******

“Your brother’s stuck his dick in every single member of your family,” Auguste spat out, laughing, crying, and so miserable he thought his heart would stop. His voice rose again, and he felt something burst from him as he screamed for the whole world to hear, “Did you know that? Did you, huh papa? Did he fuck you too?”

dude this line is so fucked up lmfao but i enjoyed writing it so much. actually this entire scene where auguste is having his breakdown was really intense to write and im really pleased with how it came out OR

Auguste grabbed him suddenly, looking up into his grief-stricken face desperately. “Please, Laurent,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “Please. Don’t let him end up like me.”

i felt entirely too clever with this line lmfao. i was like ~ooooohhhhh title drop~ im so dumb 5. i just remember this one like. dragged on for some time. i couldnt figure out what to do with it, how to get everything to coalesce around the final reveal about auguste 6. plot twist!!!!!!! plus auguste angst. i really enjoyed this one, i wrote it after watching the movie Spotlight which is one of my all time faves Softly, Gently 4.

“My King has been overexerting himself again, I presume?” Paschal sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. “When have I ever done that?” Laurent cocked his head to the side, a wry smile on his face.

hehehehe sassy laurent my beloved <33333 5. honestly im just going to skip this one from now on lskjghmvlksjhglkvsjhdl i just get "stuck" sometimes without rhyme or reason and its usually on boring stuff, but then i cant remember later. the hardest part for me is when my dumb fucking adhd brain wont let me focus on writing but once i overcome that its usually pretty smooth sailing 6. horny omegaverse.................... my beloved............... giving men vaginas for horny reasons my beloved......................... Water of Life (birth fic)

“Do you want to hold him?” Erasmus breathed, eyes glassy. The baby cried, Erasmus bouncing him tenderly in those sunkissed arms. He looked apologetic. “Only for a moment, it’s not quite over yet.” A playful smile danced on Erasmus’ lips, and he brushed away a slick, damp curl from the wailing baby’s head. “A head this big, he certainly takes after Exalted.”

a cute, fun lil line in the sea of horrible angst lmfao ORRRRRR

Erasmus knelt before Damen, before Laurent. He said, “Exalted… Can you command his Highness to push?” Damen froze. “Do you mean…?” Erasmus nodded. “Alpha command.” Damen’s expression crumpled. He said, in a voice that shattered Erasmus’ heart, “I can’t. I can’t do that to him.” Erasmus licked his lips. “Exalted, in this state, he can’t push. His contractions are weaker. He’ll-” “I can’t,” Damen cried, clinging to Laurent’s limp body like a lifeline. “He’d… He’d never forgive me.”

damen is so sweet........ he loves laurent so much...... ORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

He stopped at the doorframe, turning to face Laurent with tears in his eyes, and whispered, “How long does it take, your Highness?” Laurent, shocked enough to respond, hissed, “What?” “I still wake up in the middle of the night thinking of it,” Erasmus said, voice thick in his throat, tears burning at his eyes. “How long until it’s over?”

real sad hours if u up click like. i love erasmus and laurent bonding over their shared trauma <33333333333333333333 laurent and erasmus friendship propaganda 24-fucking-7 bay bee!!!!! 6. unironically this is one of my fav fic ive ever written skdljmfhgvlksjdhflmgkvjshldkjfghvmls call the midwife is one of my favorite shows and writing this made me look at birth as something visceral and possibly horrible and traumatic. i wanna write more fucked up birth scenes, SO MANY MORE. ridley scott knew what he was doing Sandalwood (erasmus/kallias my sweet boys i love u so much) 4.

“I do,” Erasmus breathes, ducking his head, flushed as though embarrassed. “In the gardens, the perfume from the orange trees all around us on those summer nights.” Kallias smiles behind him – Erasmus knows his body so intimately he can feel it in how Kallias’ posture changes, though he can’t see the soft turn of his lips. “The scent was so cloying I thought it would drive me mad. It made me want to kiss you senseless.” Erasmus laughs, breathlessly, imagining the warm heat of Kallias’ mouth against his. “Don’t blame that on the orange trees, dear one.”

beloved..................... im weeping.......... 6. these two make me fuckign CRY ON THE REG I LOVE THEM SO MUCH MY SWEET BOYS YOU DESERVE THE WORLD- Wisps of Smoke******************* (lauguste fic) 4. ***CW EXPLICIT INCEST*** (i mean....... obviously lmfao)

“Call me what I like,” Auguste growled against his ear. “You know what I like.” He did. Laurent did. He knew everything Auguste liked – the slow flick of Laurent’s tongue on the underside of his cock, that tender spot behind his earlobe, the way Laurent’s thighs looked straddled atop him like his horse – and this. “Brother,” Laurent gasped, desperate, “Brother, please, harder. Harder.”

i wanted the incest to be explicitly part of the kink here lmfaoooooo 6. hehehehehehehhehehehhehe lauguste................... i need to write more of u But I Love It (laurent is allergic to latex fic) 4.

“Laurent,” Auguste said, voice high in warning. Laurent braced himself, stiffening visibly. With what seemed to be monumental effort, Auguste continued, “You know, Laurent. I’m proud of you.”

IM A SOFT BITCH OK???????????????? auguste is PROUD of his baby bro for overcoming his sexual trauma and getting that fat dick 6. SLJHVDLMKJDHGVLK PEOPLE FUCKING LOVED THIS FIC i tried to be funny and i think it worked. plus some softe bits thrown in. i also kind of see lots of humor fic where its a no abuse au, but i wanted to write something comedic where the regent still. existed u kno????? anyways hahahahha i dont think i can write anything like this again but im glad y'all liked it Is It Cold In The Water (slice of life fic) 4.

Laurent opens his mouth to say something cheeky, but instead, what comes out is: “Do you think Aimeric had the right idea?” Damen is quiet for so long, gaze serious and framed with his long, dark lashes, that Laurent wonders if he’d spoken aloud at all – and when he’s sure he had, he realizes Damen had remembered Aimeric after all. When he speaks again, the sleep is gone from his voice. “Laurent,” Damen says carefully, as though approaching a spooked horse, “Is something wrong?”

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 soft,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, 6. ruby likes this fic lskjdvhmflgksfjdhmvglkjsdhflkvgmjhlekjfhdvlgskjfhv im a SIMP- The Devil's Got Nothing On Me (AIMERIC FIC LEGGOOOO) 4. there are lots of lil nuggets in here!!!!

Aimeric blinks, and all he can think is, you knew? He says, "I – I just." "I am a patient man," Guion breathes, "I support everyone in my household. Everyone. But Aimeric, you are truly testing my patience. Your mother came to me in tears, begging me to find you. Look at what you did to her! There was nothing I could say until we found you!" "I'm sorry," Aimeric whispers, looking at Loyse, "I'm-" "Look at me," Guion roars.

this conversation was inspired by a very miserable encounter with my boss lmfao. fuck that guy and fuck guion

The regent, blue eyes sparkling - and Aimeric has never thought eyes could look just like a summer sky until now - says to Guion but really to Aimeric, "I was thinking I could take little Aimeric riding tomorrow. Just the two of us." Loyse says, before Guion can speak, voice trembling with relief, "I think that's a wonderful idea, your Highness."

~dramatic irony~ lmfaoooooooooo. WE know of course that this is a bad thing, but it's always fun to have characters make bad choices that they have no idea are bad. i also did this briefly in "Like Me" with auguste's ex wife taking nicaise to church because she was so overwhelmed at home and he offered to help. of course, the regent is always happy to help out. evil evil evil

"-was worried it might be difficult for him." A soft, lilting laugh. The guards had said the regent was in the library, and then there is Guion, right there with him. Aimeric is suddenly angry, not sure why his father is with the regent, who is his and no one else's. The regent responds, "I daresay it's been perfectly easy. It seems you've done most of the work already."

i wanted to highlight the fact that it was aimeric's neglect that lead him to the regent in the first place. hence "youve done most of the work already" - guion by ignoring and neglecting aimeric created the perfect environment for the regent to sweep in and take advantage. like leaving food out btwn 40-140 F is a perfect breeding ground for bacteria LOL. the books touch on that but i wanted to make it explicit

He is so, so ashamed. It's unbearable, the thought of her kind eyes, the way she cried for him, the way he pushed her away. Before he'd left to join the prince's guard, she had taken his hand, kissed it, and said in a voice fragile as glass, "It's been such a long time since I've seen you smile like that," but in that moment he could think only of the regent's letter warm in his pocket.

6. honestly i know ive sounded super conceited this whole time but i kind of tear up whenever i read through the end of the fic lmfao. aimeric is just so fucking depressing as a character and i love that i really got to explore that in this fic. he really didnt have anyone, did he????? he's like a tragic greek character where you just watch him stumbling towards his inevitable end and it hurts the whole time. its even worse on the reread ANYWAYYYYYYY thats it. thanks so much for the ask anon!!!!!!! feel free to send me more!!!

[shibarirobot]

Aizawa fic - CH3 - Entrapment

18+ Only! SFW (for now)

Shouta Aizawa x Villain!OC/Reader (?)

CH1

CH2

!!TW!! mentions of abuse, trauma, blood

Above are the links to the first two chapters, but for those that just want to get to it, I will briefly summarize. The main character here(who I choose to keep very nondescript so anyone can enjoy this, that may change as things get more physical between them and our hero. I will continue using they/them pronouns for this, but I have lady parts and will probably end up using those words.) is a villain that has just stolen information, fought Aizawa and made an escape to a roof where they fought with a member of their crew and Maybe(?) probably killed them.

Thank you for reading! 

Enjoy! x

~

Sirens blare behind me as cops start to arrive at the scene. I pull the hood on my jacket up over my head and dip around the corner. I hadn’t tried to stick around long enough for them to show up, but left without a quick way off the roof after tossing that damn bat off the side, I had to take the stairs. It was a long way down, but the stairwell was entirely connected all the way to the ground floor, I would have been seriously pissed off if I had to find multiple sets of stairs. My face is mostly obscured by my hood, but I look down everytime a random citizen passes by. I can never be too careful about being seen. 

I reach into my pocket and feel for my marble, my anxiety is rising quickly as a group of four teen girls walks towards me on the sidewalk. I almost freak out when my pocket turns up empty, but then I remember that I threw it, that it’s the only reason I’m still walking free. This brings me slight peace before I hear giggling and sneer to myself. High schoolers. I look at their uniforms, even better, hero students. I pull the drawstrings on my hood and it scrunches around my face, hiding me further. Anonymity isn’t the only reason I prefer not to be seen, but it’s the most self preserving reason, the one that makes the most sense. The other is because I’m afraid. Afraid of what they could say, of what they could think. I’ve heard it all, but it never fails to sting a little when the unfiltered truth of others thoughts wash over me. 

Weirdo. What. A. Freak.

OMG what are they wearing?

Damn, why do I always have to walk on the outside? Don’t you all care at all if I get grabbed?

Please don’t rob us, please don’t rob us.

Look away. Just look away.

I pull the drawstrings tighter and walk slightly faster, trying to push their thoughts from my brain, but failing grandly as all I can focus on is how much I don’t fit in, how little the rest of the world cares for people that don’t fit in the cookie cutter mold of societal expectations. The girls are having a light hearted conversation amongst themselves as I pass by, a complete confliction to the sour, curdled thoughts that had just slipped out. My eyes are glued to my feet as I take one step after the other, my legs feel like lead as I fight the urge to scream at them and silence their brain functions. I’m so focused on getting myself away from those girls that I barely register the man walking in front of me, talking loudly on the phone. I thump into his back, my eyes still strained down at the tips of my boots. He looks down at me, surprised. I can feel his eyes on me, feel the shock as his words falter into the phone mic. 

Woah. All black, huh? 

Trying to avoid a conflict, I duck to the side and mutter a curt ‘sorry’ below my breath, already shuffling off. He reaches out to me though, reaching for my shoulder. “Hey, wait. Sorry to bump into y-” 

I jerk away without looking. “Don’t touch me… please.” I cough the pleasantry out, it’s hard to hold myself back when all I want to do is swear at him and rip his eyes from his skull, knowing full well this is only a minor inconvenience, not a stopping block for me. I slightly turn my head, looking up at him out of one eye, he looks down at me, stunned. 

Wait… Is this the one?

Who is this man? He looks slightly familiar, but I can’t quite place him. He’s got long blonde hair, pulled into a simple ponytail and a goatee that makes him look like he still thinks the year is 2008. My eyes fall back to my feet as I take quick paces away from him. I don’t know him, but it seems like he might know me, which is definitely a bad sign. My anxiety swells again as I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. This really can’t be good. I can still feel him watching me as I retreat, but his focus shifts back to his phone as someone yells on the other end of the receiver. “Yah, yah! I’m right around the corner. Get off my back, Shouta… I said I’m right around the corner! … No! I’m not in ‘uniform’, it’s my day off!” I let my anxiety roll off my shoulders as I get farther away from him and can no longer hear his shouting. I’m not sure why he threw me off so much, but I’m happy to be crossing the street and leaving his line of vision, turning an extra corner, just to be safe. I can’t afford anyone following me right now.

I’m still a bit rattled as I step down the stairs to the underground train tunnels. The tunnels are old, abandoned years ago after a train derailed and collapsed several tunnels. There were so many casualties, they shut down the entire train system after that, but by then technology had become so advanced compared to the subway that they didn’t even bother rebuilding. The city just closed off the tunnel entrances to the public. Citizens and tourists still come down to the platforms to take pictures and read plaques about the deceased. It’s ridiculous really. They didn’t know any of the people that died, had no connection to them, they would have no clue about the lives lost here if it hadn’t been all over the news. What the news wouldn’t tell the unsuspecting audience of sheep, is that it was actually a hero that crashed the train. The media told the world that a minor earthquake had derailed the train, which was only partially true. A minor earthquake had caused the crash, but a hero had caused the earthquake. A hero was the direct cause of so many shortened lives, innocent and corrupt alike, all dead within seconds. The media just swept that under the rug, not a single news coverage even mentioned his name as they described the tragedy. He continued his hero work as if nothing had even happened, as if he hadn’t murdered the very people he vowed to protect, as if he wasn’t the sole reason those people died. My sister was among those lost. She wasn’t my only family, but the only one I liked, the only one that made life even bearable. A tear rolls down my cheek and I wipe it away in frustration, no time for emotions. No time for tears. No time to let myself wallow, because I know once I start on that path, I’ll never stop. I’ll cry until I can’t breathe, until my eyes are swollen shut, until my lungs give out. So I cut myself short. No tears.

The platform is empty when I reach the tracks, the silence echoing. This is the only place I’m free of everyone else’s trilling thoughts buzzing in my brain, the thick concrete walls jamming their signal from getting to me. I release a long awaited sigh, the anxiety finally subsiding and leaving a slight hunger in my stomach. I had been so worked up I forgot to get food. I pull the hood off my head and hop down onto the tracks, walking them like a balance beam, a habit I picked up in my free time. At this point, I don't even put my hands out at my sides. I’ve done this so much, I’m sure I could walk it with my eyes closed. I do close my eyes, basking in the complete silence that surrounds me. Silence that reminds me of the moments I was fighting Eraser Head, the moments where he took my quirk and my head was actually empty. Even now it’s not quite like that, there’s still a ringing in my ears and a hum in the back of my head like static over a radio channel. It’s never been completely quiet inside my head, it only ever fades to background noise, not like when I was with him, when he was staring at me so intensely. I know it’s because he couldn’t look away, because of his quirk, but part of it made me feel… wanted. No one has ever looked at me like that, with such incredible intensity in their eyes. I shake my head, feeling crazier than usual. There’s no way he could want me, no way that I’m not just pushing my own desires onto his actions, no way that I’m not just famished for someone to hold me in their arms like he had held me in his scarf. 

Now I know I’m acting foolish. His scarf? Really? He was attacking me, he was fighting me, he’s a hero goddammit. I should be hating him and working up ways to bring his demise, but instead I’m thinking about what it would be like to see him without his hostility, to watch his face as he slept, to see tears trail down his face, to see him begging on his knees. I want to see his vulnerability, surprisingly, without any intention of exploiting it. I just want to see him. I have to see him. I look down and realize I’m pacing. I shake myself again and head for a service tunnel that I’ve commandeered to become my little hideout. It’s really not much, but it’s all mine and 100% off the grid. Maintenance personnel don't even come down here. I’m completely alone and I love it. No prying eyes, no unwanted thoughts, just me and the cold concrete. It’s heavenly. 

I moved down here full time a few months after my sister died and it became clear that no one was fixing up the tunnels. My biological carrier, the woman I refuse to call my mother, had begun drinking immediately. Not that she was a stranger to alcohol before, but it had only gotten worse. Her drunk thoughts quickly became her sober thoughts and all of them had to do with me. Why my sister had died instead of me, why she was the one that had to be stuck with me, why she had to have been cursed with such a freakish child. One that cried all the time, one that split her head in two when they had a tantrum, one that couldn't even be put into daycare to protect the other children, one that put her husband in a vegetative state. I became nothing more than a burden to her, if there was any part of her that still loved me, loved me like a mother is supposed to, it was buried deeper in her mind than even I could find. 

The mental abuse wasn’t what broke me though, the neglect hadn’t done it either. It was the night she made me beg. She had drunk so much that I felt drunk, felt drunk off the vertigo thoughts she was pulsing out into the room. She stumbled into my room, slurring speech and telling me how ungrateful I was to have someone like her that would take such good care of me. I should have known better, should have been quiet like usual, but I scoffed at that. The wench barely even knew how to take care of herself, the notion honestly tickled me. That did her in. She lunged at me and threw me to the floor, smacking me in the face once on both cheeks. She rolled off of me and left the room as drunkenly as she had come in. I just layed there and cried, hoping she was done, but knowing she wasn’t. I heard the door creak and felt her grab me by the hair, shoving me into a dining chair. The confusion must have been evident on my face, because she hit me again and made quick work of tying me to the wooden chair. She left me there, tied up, for days. She made me beg for food. Beg for water. Beg to be cleaned after I had pissed myself. She made me apologize for everything I had ever done. She made me admit I was a monster, one that hurt people for fun, because I wanted to, not because I couldn’t control my quirk. I can see now how that narrative would be easier for her to stomach, having a person to blame instead of accepting the shitty facts of reality, but I was her child. I had been pure. She was supposed to love me, protect me.

I stop walking, letting my renewed hatred for that woman settle on my shoulders like a warm, heavy blanket. Resolve hardening my heart and warping the soft emotions I had just been there. I heave a sigh and reach into my jacket pocket again, feeling the flashdrive from before. This is what I need. File upon file of precious documents and information right here in the palm of my hand, information that now exists nowhere else. 

I start walking again, exhausted from today's events. There had been so many close calls. I’m still reeling from a couple of them, my head still not on fully straight. I make it to my little pad and flop down on the mattress I have tucked away in the corner. I unzip my boots and massage my feet a little, pulling them into my lap to sit lotus style. My laptop had been haphazardly tossed into my bed, so I reach over and plug it into the charging cable snaking from the wall, also pushing the little flashdrive into the side port and letting all the documents download. I curl into a ball on my mattress and flop to the side, I’m so tired and so hungry, I’m not sure what to do. I have no food here so I'm going to  have to go back up to the surface level, but it’s still too light out, I’ll wait until the sun has fully set then go stop by a street vendor. In the meantime however, I treat myself to a nap. I hadn’t realized how heavy my eyes were until my head hit the soft material of my bed. 

I’m not sure how much time has passed since I fell asleep, but I wake up to my computer beeping. The download is complete. I smile to myself and close the laptop, removing the flashdrive from the side, again not bothering to eject it. I push myself up into a sitting position and rub my hands over my entire face and into my hair, fully waking myself up some more. I look down at myself, still in my full clothes and sigh, I guess I had been far more tired than I thought. My mind drifts to the dream I was having before my eyes had peeled back open. I only really dream when I sleep hard, which isn’t often since I’ve basically ruined my REM cycles. In my dream, I was with Eraser Head again, but this time we weren’t fighting, not really. He still had me caught in that damn capture weapon, but I was completely naked, my body exposed at all the right points for him to reach out and grab me, hit me, bite me. The memory of how his scarf felt against my skin heats up my face, my body clenching tightly. How does he still do this to me? He’s not even near me. 

I run a hand down my neck, trying to calm myself. I can’t get all riled up because of some hero. Can I? Another flash from my dream breaks through to the forefront of my mind. Eraser Head has me by the jaw, his mouth so close to mine I would be able to feel his breath on my lip if it had been real. That’s when he sensually licks my plush bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and biting down softly, just enough to drive me crazy. Just enough for me to want more, to feel it in real life. I yell and pound my fist into the mattress. GET!! IT!! TOGETHER!! I launch myself onto my feet, tugging on my boots, determined to get his imagined ministrations out of my mind. I still need to eat anyway. The hunger tugging on my stomach and making it growl loudly, protesting the nap that had zapped away the rest of my evening. I look at my watch and groan, it's already past 9pm. 

I head back down the service tunnel that leads to my little crash pad, there’s a small, unpopular ramen stand I like to go to when it’s late. It's not the best bowl of ramen in the world, but it gets the job done and I’m not too picky when it comes to noodles in warm broth. The stand is right outside one of the stairwells into the underground platforms. The lights from the neon sign flicker dimly, it reads ‘OPEN to Business’. I slink down onto one of the stools and drop my money onto the counter, ordering a beef bowl. The man on the other side of the counter pours the broth and cuts vegetables before serving me the bowl with a small bow of his head. I return his formality before delving into the bowl. The soup smells better than usual, or maybe I’m just insanely hungry, either way the first bite leaves me melting into the bowl, hunched over, consuming the food at such a rate it would appear as if I hadn’t eaten in days. I hit the bottom of the white bowl in record time and slam down a few coins demanding more. The chef raises his eyebrow, but complies, almost over filling another bowl for me.

Hungry, ha? Good! Eat more!

I smile at him, actually warmed by his slight kindness, but it is soon forgotten as I begin slurping down noodles, beef, and cooked vegetables. I finish the second bowl almost as quickly as the first and slouch back, patting my very full belly. I was definitely hungrier than I realized. I sigh, content and sluggish as I slide off the side of the stool. I can’t help the light feeling in my chest as I shove my hands into my pockets. The moon is high in the sky and the night air is cool on my cheeks, it’s almost serene. I decide to take a little stroll, there’s another entrance to the platform a few blocks down, connecting to the other side of the service tunnel. I start my walk with casual steps, I’m not in a rush and I just want to breathe in the fresh air a little bit longer. There’s an empty orange soda can on the ground and I kick it with the inside of my foot, sending it skittering forward a few paces, stopping in a perfect place for me to kick it again. I continue kicking the can along with me as I walk, until I kick it a little too hard and it goes tumbling down into a storm drain. I shrug and round a corner, the can just a distraction anyways, something to fiddle with. I reach into my pocket and forget again that my marble isn't there. A prickle of nerves climbs up my arm and to the back of my neck, making my hair follicles stand on end. 

Suddenly alert, I tense my shoulders and scan the area, looking above me as well this time, I won’t be taken out from the rooftops again, but still I see nothing. The air around me has shifted. It’s no longer peaceful and delicate, it’s eerie and cold, sending a shiver through me again, the anxiety making me even more jumpy as I hear little sounds around me. Nothing out of the ordinary, city sounds, but it all gets to me, sending my heart rate in an upward spike. I start to run, unsure of where to go. I can feel someone, but where? It’s driving me crazy. I know there’s someone. I know it, but the absolute lack of a presence is what’s really fucking me up. An ubiquitous white flash darts out at me from the dark. I dodge quickly, leaning back so far my head barely misses slamming into the concrete below me. There’s another flash and I throw my legs out from underneath me, catching myself in a near handstand before flinging myself backwards again, still unsure of where the flashes are coming from. 

Before I can land back on my feet, I see it, a dark figure blur by me from the corner of my eye. I don’t know what or who it is, but my first instinct is to whip around and try to use my quirk, still only barely sure of the figure’s location. When I spin around, I’m immediately bombarded by two sensations. First, is the clarity in my brain that only comes when Eraser Head is muting my quirk. The second, is the heat that grows in my stomach when I realize exactly who I’m up against. My chest flushes, and my thoughts flash back to my dream, the way he had halfway kissed me. That’s all the distraction he needs to scoop me up in his capture weapon and have me dangling upside down from the nearest street pole. 

Seeing him from this angle is different as the blood starts to rush to my head, making me feel dizzy. I thrash around a little, to no avail, before allowing myself to give up, feeling too sluggish from my meal anyways. Even if I manage to get out of this coil I could barely expect to actually get away. Eraser Head slowly saunters up to my upside down body, rocking from side to side, he looks menacing and my body clenches tight again. Gezzus fuck, this man is hot. “You wanted to see me again. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” He pulls the goggles covering his eyes up unto his forehead and I can see his whole face. There’s a scar underneath his eye that I hadn’t seen before, it marks his skin beautifully and I can’t help but imagine what he looked like with the fresh wound, blood running down his face. I bet it was gorgeous. He’s a striking figure on his own, but covered in blood? I gulp heavily, the downward gravity making it hard. Eraser bends his knees, squatting down so we’re on an even eye level, his are still glowing red and I’m reeling from the proximity. He’s so close. He’s right there. I could reach out and grab him if my arms weren’t strung up to my sides. 

I can’t touch him, but he’s still close enough for me to throw my head back, letting the momentum force me back down to collide my skull with his. I hear a crunch and feel warm blood trickle up my face from my nose, it's in my mouth too. Eraser stumbles back, not prepared for a headbutt. It’s true what they say, no one wins in a headbutt, but it feels like a win as I see a small trail of blood coming from his forehead, it’s so much hotter that it’s my blood. He looks even better than I had imagined, of course he does. My skull is pulsing already and my quirk is returned to me as he tries to steady himself. He does, quicker than I had hoped. My head is still splitting and I don't have enough time to regain myself before he’s taking my quirk again. Damn, he’s good. I chuckle to myself, licking the blood from my lips. This is actually kind of fun. Eraser Head looks down at me again, gripping my hair tightly now to keep me from moving again. His eyes are wild, his jaw tight. It’s taking all of him not to beat the living shit out of me. I can tell. 

Then his expression changes and he looks mischievous, teasing even. The slight confusion I have is short lived before he yanks my head forward, my neck craned at an awkward angle to look directly up at him. “My turn.” He says, dropping my head so I’m swinging back and forth again, only able to see him every couple seconds. He takes a step back and I see him poise himself for a second, spinning into a roundhouse kick that connects with my temple and knocks me out cold.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

THINGS ARE DEF GONNA START HEATING UP FROM HERE!!!! stay tuned hehe XD

[astxlphe-fics]

Dazai didn’t plan for any of this to happen to Akutagawa

The first thing he does, upon being pulled out of his cell by Ango, is planning on how to get him back.

Fix it fic

Pairing : Dazaku, Dazai Osamu / Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Word count : 5 361

Content Warnings : mentioned character death, vomiting, blood drinking, vampire, biting

There is a commotion in Yokohama, and Ango comes to pull Dazai out of his cell.   

"I managed to convince them to let you out," Ango tells him, gaze severe. "That you were essential to putting a stop to what is going on."  

"Smart." He smiles, tilting his head, and wonders how Atsushi and Akutagawa are doing. If he's right — and he usually is — Kamui is someone influential, and the two of them will have exposed him. "And what exactly is going on?"  

Ango doesn't look happy, and Dazai can feel a tiny bit of suspicion worm it's way inside his brain. He remembers when he glanced at Fyodor, in the cell facing him, as he walked out of the prison, and the Russian man smiled, mocking.   

Smug. Why is he so smug? Dazai is free, Fyodor is not. Dazai wins.  

"What," he repeats, "is going on?"  

"I picked up Atsushi at the drop point, as planned. Kamui is Fukuchi Ouchi, the head of the Hunting Dogs. Atsushi barely managed to get away."  

And what about Akutagawa, he doesn't ask, because he feels enough dread and he's smart enough that maybe he can guess.  

"We are now dealing with a vampire outbreak," Ango goes on, and the look he sends him is too close to pity for Dazai to stand his gaze for too long. "As for what exactly happened...I think Atsushi should be the one to tell you."  

It's bad then. His mind conjures images of Akutagawa, bloody and face  blank and heart still, and his own skips a few beats. He stops his train of thoughts before they get the best of him. He’s not ready for where it's going, so he hangs onto Akutagawa as much as possible.  

Angry scowl and rebellious and slightly petulant “I don’t care" to his request to help Atsushi and a fiery temper and eyes that make Dazai's stomach flip in a way he’s still not quite ready to face.  

He breathes. Akutagawa is strong, he is fine. He was always strong, in spite of Dazai's reluctance to actually tell him that.   

Atsushi and Akutagawa are young, and still inexperienced, but their combined power is nothing to laugh at and pulled them through several powerful enemies.  

But is it strong enough to beat Fukuchi Ouchi, he wonders, and quickly he knows the answer is “probably not”.  

“Bram Stoker?” Dazai guesses. There is only one known ability user capable of creating something close to vampires, and it’s Bram Stoker — who caused a terrible calamity eight years ago and was since then not heard of again. Officially, Fukuchi himself killed him, but if Fukuchi is Kamui then—   

“Very likely.”  

Ango leads him out of the prison, not through the front door but through the underground tunnels leading out in the deeper parts of the city.  

“The outbreak started within the Port Mafia,” Ango goes on, “and spread throughout the underworld through them. The Black Lizards went down first, according to Tachihara. We have no idea what happened to the high-ranking members, but—” he trails, scowls. Checks his phone. “We’re not optimistic.”  

The Port Mafia should be able to hold back against such a thing — lock down their Headquarters and safe houses, carefully comb through their members for any wayward vampire, keep the infection to a minimum in their ranks, and then hit back against the source of it.  

This kind of thing means loss of business and Mori, he knows, would not stand for it. 

With Chuuya, Kouyou, and Mori out of the picture, they can’t count on their strength to fight back, which is a less than ideal situation. 

His mind races as he follows Ango through quiet, empty streets, trying to figure it out. The source of it — Bram Stoker, obviously, but who is the first victim? Would putting Stoker out of commission be enough to turn everyone back? So, does it mean Dazai only needs to find him and touch him?  

If Atsushi came back alone from the confrontation with Fukuchi, instead of walking away from it with Akutagawa at his side, probably means that—  

“We’re here.” It's a house. A nice one, at that, nondescript and, he guesses, some sort of safehouse for spies or criminals. He doesn’t recognize the address, but the Mafia is always shifting and changing to avoid being caught. “It’s a Mafia safehouse,” he confirms, “the Agency is here, Mori gave them access before the outbreak.”  

+

“Dazai!!”   

It’s a chorus that welcomes him, and he grins, trying to be lighthearted even though their faces tell him how tired they are. “My, my, what a mess,” he exclaims, “you guys are really lost without me, aren’t you?”  

Some muttering and eye rolls answer him, but they all smile and pat his back and Naomi and Kenji draw him into a tight hug, but to be honest they’re not the ones he expected to jump at him.  

The president pats his shoulder, and tells him how good it is to have him back, before his eyes slide to the teen sitting on the ground in the corner. "He hasn’t said a word since Ango brought him back here,” he informs him. “Six hours ago.”  

So, Dazai turns to his protégé, who is staring at a spot on the opposite wall and resolutely does not look at him, or anyone. Kyouka sits next to him, so close she might as well me melting into his side.  

No Akutagawa in sight, but Atsushi is wearing a familiar black coat. Still, while Dazai usually trusts his brain to come up with the answers by itself, this time around he wants to hear it. He will not let Akutagawa go until he doesn’t have proof before his own two eyes.  

He crouches in front of Atsushi; whose gaze focuses on him and Dazai just has the time to smile and say “ hello Atsushi" before he bursts into tears.  

“I’m sorry,” he cries, and rubs at his own face until it’s red. “Akutagawa—he— Fukuchi killed him.” He says the words as if he barely believes them himself, as if it’s the first time he actually speaks them out loud and is just getting used to the notion. “He— Fukuchi offered to train him and said he had to kill me but Akutagawa said no and we tried to fight him together and we won.” He pauses, catching his breath before his words can turn too garbled by his hiccups and sniffles. “But his sword, it cut through time and with it he also — he cut his throat with his sword and Akutagawa knew and he still did it to help me get away— I’m so sorry Dazai, I didn’t want—”  

Dazai’s blood has gone cold, and he isn’t sure what Atsushi tells him next. This is one of the worst outcomes. He estimated, when he asked for Akutagawa’s help, that the risks were minimal.

He miscalculated.  

This isn’t what was supposed to happen.   

Akutagawa and Atsushi were supposed to make it, together, and come out on the other side stronger than ever.   

“—and now he’s this—this— vampire thing and it’s my fault, I should’ve listened to Ranpo but Fukuchi had the page from the Book so— I don’t understand,” he ends up saying. “Why would he—”  

“It’s not your fault,” Dazai hears himself say. “Akutagawa took on this mission out of his own, free will.” He still sees himself insisting until he agrees in spite of his misgivings, and this affirmation feels a little like a lie. “Akutagawa made the choice to save you. It was his decision and his alone. It’s not your fault.”  

It’s not Atsushi’s fault, but it’s Dazai’s, a little, and Fukuchi’s, the most.  

“He said he didn’t want to die until you acknowledged him,” Atsushi adds quietly, wiping his nose, as if it doesn’t make it worse. “That he couldn’t afford to disappoint you.”

Fukuchi, in Dazai’s mind, is already a dead man, and he can feel the cold dread in his insides turn into white hot fury.  

“I’m not.” Atsushi doesn’t look convinced, so he insists. “I’m not mad or disappointed in you, or in Akutagawa.”

He’s disappointed in himself for not seeing it coming and mad at Fukuchi and Stoker for doing such a thing to Akutagawa.  

“That’s good.” Atsushi sniffles, the whispered answer has Dazai pulling him into an embrace.

Atsushi grabs onto his coat, hands closing into fists, and buries his face in his chest. Dazai rests his chin on the top of his head for a short time, holding tight on the grieving kid, trying to put order in what he’s heard.  

“Akutagawa is a vampire?” he asks the rest of them. Ango shrugs.  

“He told me, on the way here, that he saw him. I didn’t though, and I guess we could write it off as a hallucination of sort, but—”  

“The outbreak started with the Mafia, specifically the Black Lizards,” Ranpo cuts in, glasses firmly up on his nose, sucking on a lollipop. “According to Ango here, Akutagawa’s subordinate was turned first and spread it to the rest, but she hasn’t been anywhere close to Fukuchi or Bram Stoker.” He stumbles on Fukuchi’s name, and the president looks nothing but pained. “Short answer is yes.”  

“And he’s probably our patient zero,” Dazai completes for him. “I figured as much.”  

“Do you have an idea on how to combat the infection?” Kunikida asks. From the beginning, he has been standing close to Atsushi, obviously unwilling to push him too much to speak. He sits down, though, and his hand now rests on Atsushi’s shoulder.   

“Well, Ango came to get me, didn’t he?” He smiles blandly. “You guys think No Longer Human can cancel it?”  

Dracula is an ability, which means that No Longer Human can erase it. “If we can find Stoker,” the president suggests, “we could put a stop to it.”  

“Would it turn everyone back, though?” Yosano wonders.  

“We believe it would.” When everyone turns to him, Ango elaborates: “From previous records, all of them are linked to him in a way. On their first report, Fukuchi and his team noted that while they acted wild, they seemed to have some sort of hivemind. That was before Stoker was discovered to be at the origin of the phenomenon, so Fukuchi would not have falsified that information. After Stoker's defeat, everyone infected was cured on their own.” And, back to Dazai: “So yes, we track down Stoker, you erase his ability, everyone is be back to normal. You’re the only one who can do this, Dazai.”  

“It appears so.”  

It doesn’t change the fact that Fukuchi killed Akutagawa, and right now they have no way to know if turning him back into a human will send him right back into death’s embrace.   

In any case, Akutagawa is Dazai's student. His responsibility. His. If someone has to stop Akutagawa on a blood drinking spree, it's Dazai. He refuses to allow anyone else to do it.   

“And I will fix it, as you ask, but only—” Ango's almost silent sigh of relief is cut short. “Only if we find Akutagawa first.”  

No, he’s not ready to let Akutagawa die. Death has already taken much from Dazai, and he will not let it have Akutagawa. Not now. Not as long as Dazai is alive to pull him away from it.   

Ango stays silent for a long time, lips pinched. “Dazai.” His tone is very careful. “I understand your position but we can’t prioritise Akutagawa over the rest of the city. Stoker is our priority.”  

“Akutagawa first,” he insists. He knows Ango is right, but a plan is already forming, and adjusting to his previous miscalculations and going off into several directions until he thinks of something coherent enough that he’s sure it’ll end with Akutagawa coming back to them.   

Coming back to him.   

“Thousands of people are being hurt because of Stoker,” Kunikida argues. “We should—”  

“Akutagawa,” he repeats firmly, glaring at Kunikida, whose mouth closes in a clack of teeth, though he is not any less frustrated. “Then Stoker.”  

And then…And then the president’s clench around the handle of his blade and, one way or another, Fukuchi will not get away with it.  

He doesn’t know what the others see when they look at him, but whatever it is it shuts down any other attempt at supporting Ango's argument.  

“Fine,” Ango relents. “But be careful. We don’t know if you can be turned.”  

“Very unlikely,” Ranpo pipes in.   

Dazai nods along, and ruffles his distraught junior’s hair with a smile. “Hear that, Atsushi? We can still get Akutagawa out of all this trouble.”  

+

 “I—” Atsushi pauses, sending Dazai a sidelong glance, which lets Dazai know that he’s still making that face everyone seems to find scary. “I’m sorry.”  

“No need,” Dazai tells him again. “It’s not your fault. Which way?”  

Atsushi stops and raises his head, breathes in deeply through his nose and mouth, licks his lips. Dazai watches him intently — he is slightly better, less distressed than before. The perspective of saving Akutagawa, even if only to repay him for what he did for him, seems to lift his spirit. Good, because Atsushi is an essential part of the plan — if anyone can track down Akutagawa it’s him, with his keen tiger nose.  

They have been following his trail for about an hour now, after another full hour of Ango explaining what he knows of Stoker’s ability.  

The other person needed for it is Yosano, because no matter the outcome they’ll need a doctor on site.   

“This way.”  

Atsushi leads them deeper into the city, towards the slums. Atsushi keeps sending him little nervous glances, fidgeting with the collar of Akutagawa’s coat. It’s obvious he has something to say, and a twinge of guilt lets Dazai know that he dislikes making Atsushi feel like he can’t speak to him.  

“What is it?” he asks, willing his tone to be softer, like Atsushi needs.  

Atsushi needs kindness and guidance. He doesn’t need to see the Dazai with the itch in his bones, with the urges to repay his enemies tenfold, waking up after years of forcing them down. Old habits die hard. 

Those urges, he knows, are only back because he feels stupid and useless and angry. 

“It’s just—” he bites his lips. “I want to help Akutagawa too, but Ango is right, isn’t he? And if we stop Stoker, wouldn’t that help Akutagawa all the same?”  

“It’s riskier,” he explains. “If Akutagawa died — or was dying — before being turned, then he could die soon after he turns back.”  

Atsushi blanches. “So, you want to knock him out and bring him back so Doctor Yosano can be around when he turns back?”  

“We would not be able to hold him until we found Stoker and put out of commission — remember that the vampires have increased strength? Besides, we would have to leave Yosano and several of ours behind to keep him in check, and they would risk being infected before we deal with Stoker. So, my plan is a bit different.” 

“And... are you sure it’ll work?” 

“Of course, I am!” 

Of course, he isn't. He can see two outcomes right now but who knows how many he’s missing? He completely missed the vampire development, didn’t he? What if it doesn’t work?  

“According to Ango, Dracula works by blood consumption — when Stoker drinks someone’s blood, he infects them with a component which alters their very being to transfer a part of his ability within them. This is what allows his victims to spread it to other people. Now, Atsushi-kun—” he wags his finger in front of the boy’s face, confidently, as if he’s sure of what he’s doing and not hoping he’s not missing something big “—what do you think will happen if someone tries to infect me ?”  

“With your ability? I guess it wouldn’t work and— Oh!” His face brightens. “If they drink your blood —”  

“No Longer Human will also cancel Dracula within their body.” Or so he hopes. “If he starts dying on us, Yosano will be able to heal him. Right?”  

“Right.” Yosano plays with the handle of a large knife. She's carrying a first aid kit which contains everything under the sun that could be needed.  

Even if all vampires are connected to him, Stoker can’t individually control them. There are too many of them. As a result, the brain functions and blood flow must be conserved for each infected person to move on their own.  

If Akutagawa was dead when turned, then Stoker had to reactivate them, which means being under his ability's influence he is functionally alive.They still have a chance at healing him even if those functions fail once Stoker’s ability leaves him.  

If they don’t but his wounds reopen, Yosano can heal him. If his heart stops, Yosano can revive him. 

Akutagawa depends on him being right on this — and a few years ago he would have scoffed and scorned at Akutagawa for being too weak, too dependent on him. But even then, he would have tried everything to save him, and then taught him a lesson to remember.  

(Now he just wants to hold him, make sure he is alive, and maybe kiss him one day, but it’s neither the time or the place or something he likes thinking about)  

Atsushi leads them through the slums now. It’s midday, and so far, they’ve managed to avoid any large groups of vampires thanks to Atsushi’s nose detecting them before they could.  

“They smell like blood,” Atsushi explains, wrinkling his nose. “It’s kind of gross, actually. The only reason I can pinpoint Akutagawa is because I spent time with him and I have this—” he tugs at the coat again.  

“Are you sure we aren’t following an old trail?”  

They’re approaching an old road Dazai knows very well, as it leaves the city to turn into an even more familiar path as it goes through the woods.   

“I’m sure.”  

He can see, in the distance, the old tree stump he met Akutagawa almost 7 years ago, and another time, just a few days before.  

“He’s close,” Atsushi whispers.  

His lips twitch into a small smile. Of course, he comes back here. Even if he doesn’t have all his mind, even if it’s only instinct, Akutagawa’s steps always take him back to Dazai.  

“Stay here, and remember to protect Yosano.” Then, to Yosano: “Be ready to jump in.”  

She nods resolutely, and he can feel their eyes on his back as he walks alone towards the clearing. His stomach turns, presumably from apprehension.  

“Come out now,” he calls out cheerfully. “I know you’re here.”  

The woods rustle, and footsteps ring out. Too heavy to be Akutagawa’s, he knows him to be light on his feet, but when he turns to face the newcomer, he pinches his lips.  

“Hello there, Akutagawa.”  

It is Akutagawa, but it is not.  

His steps are heavier, louder, uneven, and when he appears his body is hunched over.

Port Mafia’s rabid dog, Akutagawa is sometimes called.  

And as this Akutagawa snarls, showing off sharp fangs, features twisted and distorted, his eyes blood red, the color filling the pupils and cornea, Dazai figures that he finally lives up to the nickname.   

It’s the first time Dazai gets to see Bram Stoker's handiwork up close and he does not like it at all. Akutagawa stares at him but there is no recognition, and the only sounds out of his mouth are beast-like growls.   

He smiles ruefully. “What have they done to you? Do you even know who I am anymore?”  

How dare they try to steal his student, kill him and turn him into this? Dazai will not stand for this, and the itch is stronger now, but he’s not that kind of man anymore, no matter how furious he is he will not rip Stoker’s teeth out of his mouth and he will not bury the head of a gun down Fukuchi’s throat and press the trigger over and over again.  

No, he’s a different man, the kind of man that saves, and he will save him.  

He waits for Akutagawa to make his move. Further down the path, Atsushi is restless, he can tell, but he does not interfere.  

Then Akutagawa pounces, fast enough that Dazai flinches back, but he forces himself to stay still, fighting against the instinct that commands him to get out of the way.  

The things he won’t do for his wayward student.  

Akutagawa slams into him with surprising strength, knocking him off his feet and the air out of his lungs. Akutagawa pushes him back, and Dazai’s head hits the ground with a thud. He bites back a cry of pain, stars dancing in his field of vision while Akutagawa pins him on the ground, hands pressing on his chest.  

He glances back to Atsushi and Yosano, to find his protégé hackles raised, pupils slit. He shakes his head in spite of the vertigo. “Don’t move," he mouths.  

“That’s right,” he manages to say, struggling into Akutagawa’s grip to raise on his elbows. He succeeds, though Akutagawa rips through the collar of his shirt in the process. Akutagawa’s fingers grasp at his hair, pulling them harshly, dragging a hiss out of him.  

He bites.  

His fangs pierce Dazai’s throat with ease, and at first, it doesn’t hurt more than a scalpel breaking the skin. He feels his own blood run down his neck and Akutagawa’s tongue on his skin and it takes longer than Ango said it would before the ability tries to change him.  

When it does, it burns .   

No Longer Human always cancels ability from the outside, it’s the first time it has to do it from the inside.  

“That’s right,” he chokes out again, through the pain. Dracula tries to change his nature and clashes with No Longer Human and his whole body screams and tries to push the intruding ability out . He raises his hand, rests it on the back of Akutagawa’s neck to pull him closer. “It’s almost over.”  

Then the pain recedes, or maybe he’s feeling too light headed to care about it.  On top of him, Akutagawa’s fangs are still deep into his neck, and to be perfectly honest it almost feels good. 

Above him Akutagawa slows down and takes in a shaky breath. He raises his head, eyes still red, and maybe it doesn’t work, Dazai’s plan fails again, he can’t save him, so he pulls him down again — 

He said he didn’t want to die until you acknowledged him

“You fought so hard,” he whispers, because if the one last thing he can do for him is telling him the truth then he might as well do it. “You were so strong. I’m proud of you.”  

— instead of pushing him back into his neck, he kisses his lips, not minding the blood dribbling down his chin or the fangs scratching his skin.

Then, Akutagawa shakes his head. “D—” His body shivers, and he opens his eyes — two dark, human eyes, wide and afraid staring down at him. “Dazai-san— ”    

“Yosano.” He calls, and he doesn't think he's loud enough. "Yosano!"  

Akutagawa's body heaves again and he drags himself off Dazai, collapsing on the ground. He pushes himself up with his hand, before another shudder runs through him, dragging a strange sound out of his throat, and he promptly throws up.  

Dazai pushes himself up, ignoring his own nausea. “Akutagawa,” he calls out, and his student lets out another pitiful sound as he empties his stomach in the grass. At least his heart hasn’t stopped (yet), so once Dazai sits he lays his hand on his nape again. “It’s okay.” His tongue feels pasty and everything else slightly blurry. “I’m not letting you go.” 

He doesn’t think himself capable of anything more, for now. 

Yosano is here before Dazai can call for her again, and Atsushi pulls him away. “He’s throwing up blood,” he hears Yosano say through the sound of Akutagawa vomiting and the strange buzzing in his ears, and what he feels is relief.  “I think there is some in his lungs— you said Fukuchi cut his throat, right? and check on Dazai —” Atsushi scrambles to the first aid kit, and Yosano swears as Akutagawa suddenly goes limp. 

He can’t see, because Atsushi is all over him now, and he tries to push him away. “No, wait—” Atsushi protests, “I need to clean and bandage your neck, you’re bleeding. Doctor Yosano is taking care of him, he’ll be fine. You planned for this, remember?” 

“Yes,” he answers out loud, and smiles at Atsushi. “You're right, I did. He’s going to be okay. Yosano is a great doctor.” 

“Are you going to let me bandage you, now?” Atsushi doesn’t wait for his answer before getting to work, grabbing disinfectant and a roll of bandages. "Don't move."

Yosano mutters more swear words under her breath. Then, she leans back, wiping her forehead. “Good,” she declares, nodding, and Dazai can breathe. “He’s fine —” she raises an eyebrow at the still unconscious Akutagawa, “—and hopefully, you’ll stay that way, or Dazai might kill me.” 

Akutagawa is alive, Dazai can’t think of anything, and he throws his head back and laughs.   

+

Ryuunosuke dreams.  

It starts, he is not quite sure why, with a detached head who calls itself Bram Stoker. It has something to do with this man he’d been fighting with a weretiger, though both their names escape him for now.   

(What the hell is a weretiger anyway?)  

It moves along, and there is this woman— her face is wet with tears and she's saying something he can’t hear because he’s too hungry to listen, because everything around him feels wrong and now she’s screaming at him, in fear? Maybe, but she was never afraid of him before—  

(Before?) 

—and the screaming stop, and she is gone and he is running somewhere, looking for someone—  

— someone he wants to see, but he can’t name him quite yet, not until he’s standing in front of him, smiling, eyes dark, hello there, do you even know who I am anymore — the answer is no, yes, the name forces its way through his foggy brain as he sinks his teeth into his neck and his blood gushes down his throat and his body hurts.  

It's almost over   

You fought so hard   

Pain shakes his body as if something is trying to crawl out of him.  

You were so strong   

It burns.  

I’m proud of you   

Dazai. It’s Dazai.

The dream ends and he focuses, breathless, at Dazai, his throat bleeding, face stained with blood in a way that wakes the memories of lips on his own. 

The metallic taste in his mouth is disgusting, makes him want to retch, and he’s pretty sure he does just that, before the world goes cold and dark in a scarily familiar manner. 

I'm not letting you go  

+

When he wakes up, Akutagawa is understandably confused. 

Dazai opens up his third energy bar as Atsushi frets over the mafioso, trying to explain what happened in coherent sentences. Dazai does not intervene for now, watching them from where he’s sitting on the tree stump.  

He has not lost too much blood. Just enough to feel light headed and vaguely sick, but not enough to pass out, which is good news. All he needs right now is some food to get him back on his feet while Yosano checks Akutagawa up.

“A vampire outbreak,” Akutagawa repeats plainly, and Atsushi energetically nods.  

“— after the fight with Fukuchi, an ability user called Bram Stoker turned you into a vampire.” He frowns. “You spread it to the rest of the Mafia, through Higuchi first.” 

“But I was—” He pauses. “Dead. I remember that.” His voice is strange, Atsushi winces, and Dazai ponders on the clarity of the memory. 

Ponders if Akutagawa still remembers what it feels like to die. 

“Yeah. You were, Fukuchi he—” It’s his turn to pause, unwilling to go into details. “You saved me,” is what he ends up with. “Everything you did on that ship saved me . The coast guard you didn’t kill bought me enough time that Fukuchi couldn’t catch up to me.” His voice wavers. “Thank you.”  

And Dazai can tell that Akutagawa has no idea what to respond to that — has he ever been thanked before? Dazai doesn’t know, he doesn’t remember ever doing it, anyway. Akutagawa shifts awkwardly, picking at his hair, probably still too dazed to think of a witty retort, so Dazai decides to come to his rescue.  

“We need to get back and start hunting Stoker. We have thousands of people affected by his ability; we need to get a move on. Atsushi?”  

The kid immediately raises his head and takes a good whiff of the air, then grimaces. “Some are getting closer.”  

“The vampires,” Akutagawa says blankly and Atsushi nods again, so Akutagawa glances at Dazai doubtfully. 

“Yup. Blood suckers. We have been calling them vampires though, because it’s self-explanatory.” He stands and smiles, and Akutagawa looks back at him with eyes Dazai isn’t sure he can read properly. He wonders if Akutagawa remembers what he said (I'm not letting you go) and what he did ( kissed him ), and if he does, how much will those admissions — confessions — change between them. “We need to go. Can you stand?”  

(Now is not the time to think about that, maybe once the Decay of Angels is no more, if Dazai doesn’t chicken out of it.) 

He extends a hand to Akutagawa, who stares at it, trying to find the catch. It is another test. If Akutagawa remembers, Dazai thinks, then he’ll take it. If he doesn’t, he’ll get up on his own. Or maybe he’s still too weirded out to think things through. 

The wait isn’t long. Akutagawa is hesitant, but he takes it, and Dazai’s fingers close tightly around his hand to pull him on his feet. 

He still has fangs (seeing him experimentally run his tongue over them makes Dazai’s stomach do a little summersault that is definitely neither fear or worry) and looks like death warmed over. Stoker’s ability might take time to dissipate completely, but beyond that he’s back to normal.

Still, the marks of his latest trial are stark. Face pale, dark bruises under his eyes, and a thick scar on his throat.  

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go.” It’s the closest thing to an apology he’s able to put in words.

Akutagawa scowls. “If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have.” He narrows his eyes, glaring at Atsushi. “Is the weretiger wearing my coat?” 

“Uh? Oh, yes, he hasn’t left it in days, from what I was told. That's how he found you.” He taps the tip of his nose. “The smell.”

Akutagawa crosses his arms, shivering, his steps still unsure. He seems on edge  — sending little glances around him. He has been dead twice, then hasn’t eaten anything consistent for days. Considering the fourth energy bar in his pocket, Dazai shrugs off his coat. 

“Here.” He drops it across Akutagawa's shoulders. 

“What are you—”

“You looked cold.”

And defenseless, but he will not tell him that, he won’t take it well. For Akutagawa, his coat is both a weapon and an armor, it’s natural that he would feel ill at ease without it.

Sending him a suspicious glare, he pulls it tighter around himself, and Dazai catches himself thinking, as a red spark runs across the fabric, that he quite likes this color on him. 

Atsushi leads them safely through the slums, occasionally having them duck around and hide, while Akutagawa shuffles around under his coat. It takes him a minute to find the snack and he tears it open without bothering to ask Dazai if he can, looking very intently at his own shoes. 

Dazai reaches out to put his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he is glad to feel him, alive and heart beating, leaning into him. “Come on now,” he says, “let’s go home.” 

[blossom-hwa]

the danceracha and 3racha working aus were so funny i wanted to request a vocalracha one but i have no idea where they could work 😭

God damn you guys really enjoy my lukewarm sense of humor??? Well I just pictured vocalracha working at a tutoring center and bitching about it so here we are! Hope you enjoy <3

3-year anniversary drabble game: send me an NCT/WAYV/Stray Kids/The Boyz member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and  I’ll write a drabble for you!

Half of this is based off of real experiences from when I used to tutor math god that was a TIME

~

Title: Tutoring Shenanigans

Pairing: no pairings, just vocalracha being dumb

Triggers: a lot of cursing

~

quick clarification:

seungman: seungmin

watch your foxing mouth: jeongin

~

watch your foxing mouth: seungmin

watch your foxing mouth: can you please take my shift this Saturday

seungman: no

seungman: the one time I get the weekend off in ages? I'm not going to bother teaching little gremlins math who the fuck do you think I am

watch your foxing mouth: I think you’re a little asshole who’s going to spend the entire weekend just working on homework like the nerd you are

seungman: see I'd say you were right

seungman: but I don’t have homework this weekend

seungman: I actually had other plans

watch your foxing mouth: like what

watch your foxing mouth: no one’s going to ask you on a date lmao

seungman: first of all fuck you

seungman: second of all I was going to drop by at work and maybe bring you a coffee because I'm nice

seungman: but not anymore

watch your foxing mouth: bullshit you never would’ve done that in the first place

seungman: you’re absolutely right but I'm also offended that you doubted me so quickly

watch your foxing mouth: when I asked you to get me water from chan’s cafe

watch your foxing mouth: you specifically asked changbin to fill the cup with ice

watch your foxing mouth: and then you brought the cup back

watch your foxing mouth: and told me to wait

watch your foxing mouth: what the fuck kind of impression do you think that makes?

seungman: that’s fair

seungman: but I'm still offended

watch your foxing mouth: feeling offended is part of your personality

seungman: you know me so well

watch your foxing mouth: which is how I know you’ll take my shift this weekend :)

seungman: you’re funny

watch your foxing mouth: SEUNGMIN PLEASE

watch your foxing mouth: I DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH ASHLEY AND HER FUCKING BITCH ASS

watch your foxing mouth: SHE NEVER WORKS

seungman: suck it <3

watch your foxing mouth: I hate you

seungman: love you too <3

~

seungman: this small girl

seungman: walked into the center

seungman: and told me

seungman: tennis is not a fucking sport

watch your foxing mouth: I can’t believe I was getting drinks and missed that

watch your foxing mouth: what was her reasoning

seungman: ‘you don’t run in tennis’

seungman: huH?????????????????????

watch your foxing mouth: well we’ve established that these kids are rich little assholes

watch your foxing mouth: and have no brains 99% of the time

seungman: you’re right I should expect this

seungman: why do we work here again

watch your foxing mouth: rich kids = rich parents

watch your foxing mouth: rich parents = rich establishment

watch your foxing mouth: rich establishment = slightly higher than minimum wage pay

seungman: fuck you’re right

seungman: idk I feel like I'd be having more fun working at the cafe even if the pay’s worse

watch your foxing mouth: money or fun?

seungman: the ultimate question of life

watch your foxing mouth: fuck capitalism

seungman: you say that yet you’re slaving your ass off teaching basic math to kids who don’t want to learn for a salary that’s a third of what you could be earning as a private tutor

watch your foxing mouth: WELL IF I HAD A FUCKING CAR

seungman: you’d drive it into another tree

watch your foxing mouth: honestly fuck you I'm dumping your shitty americano into the storm drain

seungman: look you hit the tree not me

watch your foxing mouth: IT WASN’T EVEN THAT BAD THE BARK WAS SOFT AND THE CAR WAS FINE

seungman: allow me to repeat

seungman: you

seungman: hit

seungman: a

watch your foxing mouth: SHUT U P

seungman: fucking

watch your foxing mouth: QUIT 

seungman: t r e e 

seungman: IN A PARKING LOT

watch your foxing mouth: just dumped out your drink <3

seungman: you better be kidding me

seungman: you better be fucking kidding me

seungman: YANG JEONGIN

read by one at 4:49 pm

seungman: I'm transferring that bitch ashley to your table fuck you

~

watch your foxing mouth: why are you the one who always controls the music player

watch your foxing mouth: I want to play my tunes too asshole

seungman: no one can concentrate with your fucking trot shit playing in the background

watch your foxing mouth: and we can deal with your shitty ‘lo-fi comfortable beats’ or whatever the fuck is in your YouTube playlist?

seungman: if the parents are happy with it then we’re like. legally obligated to keep doing it

seungman: kevin would play strictly beyonce if he was in charge of the music

seungman: you would play shitty trot

watch your foxing mouth: my taste in music is not shitty thank you very very much

seungman: sangyeon would play like. classical music idk he’s an old man like that

seungman: and if we left it up to the kids wap would be playing all day every day

watch your foxing mouth: I hate it when you make sense

watch your foxing mouth: god damn just noticed all of the people working here are male

seungman: except yeji 

watch your foxing mouth: oh right except her

watch your foxing mouth: but also where is the female representation???????

seungman: they’re smarter than us

seungman: they’re either out of state for college

seungman: or they can actually drive

seungman: meaning they can afford to tutor privately

watch your foxing mouth: this is why men suck

watch your foxing mouth: we’re not smart enough to turn shit around

seungman: and we end up stuck catering to the whims of rich little assholes who aren’t going to learn jack shit anyway

watch your foxing mouth: sigh

seungman: sigh

watch your foxing mouth: ASHLEY IS HERE I’M NOT TAKING HER MY TABLE IS FULL

seungman: FUCK I HAVE A SPOT LEFT

seungman: OH FUCK YOU SANGYEON

watch your foxing mouth: suffer

seungman: my existence is pain

seungman: suddenly I have the burning desire to learn to drive

seungman: at least I wouldn’t hit trees in the parking lot 

watch your foxing mouth: see I know you’re trying to provoke me but I'm not going to give in because watching you deal with ashley is satisfying enough

~

watch your foxing mouth: my brain is fried

seungman: is this supposed to be news

watch your foxing mouth: honestly I'd be offended but I'm too tired to express it

watch your foxing mouth: I never knew teaching basic addition could be so tiring

seungman: why do tutors exist

seungman: why don’t teachers do their jobs

watch your foxing mouth: idk 

watch your foxing mouth: why do we have to do their jobs for them for far less pay

seungman: throwback to the time the owners kept forgetting to give us a raise even though we were the longest standing employees at this shitty center

watch your foxing mouth: don't fucking remind me

watch your foxing mouth: I'm just sitting in the cafe trying to erase all thoughts of ashley from my head

watch your foxing mouth: I wish sangyeon was here today

seungman: god yes that bitch ella is awful

seungman: why does she walk around like she owns the fucking place

watch your foxing mouth: bright ass lipstick and shit

watch your foxing mouth: like no bitch

watch your foxing mouth: I understand you do our schedules but I also understand you’re an asshole

seungman: sometimes I want to set this center on fire

watch your foxing mouth: afuckingmen

watch your foxing mouth: oh hey

watch your foxing mouth: oh fuck

seungman: ?

seungman: why do I hear sirens

seungman: and see smoke

seungman: jeongin

seungman: JEONGIN ANSWER ME YOU BETTER NOT FUCKING BE DEAD

watch your foxing mouth: calm your tits

watch your foxing mouth: didn’t know you cared that much about me

seungman: I don’t

seungman: who would I bitch about work to if you died

watch your foxing mouth: honestly fuck you

seungman: anyway what happened

watch your foxing mouth: jisung set the refrigerator on fire

watch your foxing mouth: it was glorious

seungman: you’re telling me jisung almost burnt this center down

seungman: b u t d i d n t ?

watch your foxing mouth: sadly

seungman: shame

seungman: would’ve loved to see that bitch ella burn

watch your foxing mouth: can’t all have what we want ig

seungman: wait give me a sec I'm clocking out I want to see this mess

watch your foxing mouth: come out quick chan looks like he’s going to cry

watch your foxing mouth: it’s hilarious

seungman: doesn’t he refer to you as his child?

watch your foxing mouth: what of it

seungman: idk

seungman: just if I talked about my parents like that I'd be six feet under by now

watch your foxing mouth: chan’s too soft for that

watch your foxing mouth: bet you he won’t even fire jisung after this

seungman: I know better than to take you up on that 

seungman: anyway where is he I want to take a picture

watch your foxing mouth: doesn’t he refer to you as one of his children too?

seungman: what of it?

watch your foxing mouth: you’re right you’re right let’s go watch him suffer

[all1e23]

Swallow [Pt.6]

Chapter: Barely Holding On

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Can two hopelessly damaged people find healing in each other?

Warnings:  Adulty themes. Yes, I’m a grown-up, and I said adulty themes. Heavy Angst (I know. What else is new with series right?) 18+

A/N:   I’m sorry it’s been so long between updates, but tbh this fic takes a lot out of me when I write it – it’s emotionally exhausting to write. If you want something to listen to while reading, I would recommend ‘It’s been a while’ and ‘Everything changes’ by Staind. I know some of you will be surprised by this chapter, but this has been a clear theme throughout the series. Send me love because I’m needy.  No beta. Read at your own risk. ;-)

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though! Thanks!*

The days apart stretched into weeks and the weeks turned into a month, and with each passing hour, you found yourself struggling to put one foot in front of the other. You wanted to leave. It would be so easy to start your life over. You’ve done it once you could surely do it again. Nothing was keeping you in this shit hole of a town. You were still jobless after all this time being home. So much for nursing always being in demand and as much as you loved Clint, you were starting to suffocate under the weight of all the memories encompassing you. The only real tether to this town was the one reason you should leave it.

If there was ever going to be a reason for you to leave and never look back, Bucky was it.

And it wasn’t just affecting you anymore. Clint had not been to the club since the day you went on your ride with Bucky. He wouldn’t say what happened, but you haven’t seen his kutte in over a month, and Clint told Nat she wasn’t allowed to work the bar for a while. That didn’t go over well. If your dumbass brother had simply asked her not to she would have agreed but he had to go all caveman – he slept on the couch for a few nights after that.

Clint doesn’t always think things through when he’s upset. You might get that charming quality from him.

It’ had been a month since Bucky told you the truth, but it didn’t change anything, did it?  Bucky was still the same man you fell in love with – flaws and all. It’s taken an embarrassingly long time for you to realize you were always going to come second to James Barnes and yet, you couldn’t stay away from him. No matter what happened or how hard you sought to keep your distance the pull between you was louder than any reasoning your brain could come up with.  

That’s how you knew you would end up here the moment you decided to come home – outside the clubhouse at two in the morning, fingers trembling as you typed in your old code. Your body sagged in relief as the light flashed green and the handle unlocked allowing you to slip in.

This was not the first time you crept into the clubhouse while everyone was asleep. It was the first time you had done it alone. The floor, couches and pool tables were covered in unconscious lumps and most snoring away. It wasn’t uncommon to see when multiple charters were getting together, patch overs, or family announcements. Whatever happened last night you missed one hell of a party. Times like these made it hard to be on the outside. Good times and bad, you were no longer a part of Bucky’s world, and it chipped away another piece of your heart every time it was shoved in your face.

“Y/n,” Steve said, hushed, careful of the people sleeping on couches around them. He was leaning on the bar watching you with an amused grin.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Steve chuckled quietly and walked towards you. “Shouldn’t you be at home?” He snarked back. You narrowed your eyes, but the corner of your lips curled up into a small smile. 

“Is his room still his room?” Steve nodded and followed you as you walked towards the back hallway stepping over the sleeping men on the floor as you went.

“Y/n?” You turned back to look at him brow raised in question. “If you go back there, it needs to be for good. I’m not telling you to take him back or saying you have to walk away. You should follow your heart but whatever you choose needs to be forever. He needs all of you. Not this half in bullshit. If you’re done, let him go.”

“I know.” You assured him. “That’s why I’m here, Steve. No more half in.”

--------

Torture.

Untold agony.

Plain and simple.

This last month has been sheer agony. Bucky hasn’t seen or spoken to you in over a month, and the only thing keeping him from completely wasting away was knowing you hadn’t skipped town. He half expected to wake up that first morning to find Clint beating down his door because you took off in the middle of the night again – a burning need to get away as far away from him as you could. Clint never came, and your jeep has been parked outside of Clint’s place since Peter drove it home.

There was a bit of contentment in all the anguish. A realization. Bucky needed to let you go, but it has never been that simple. If it were, he would have done it when your life was at risk six years ago.  Bucky’s been fighting to let you go since the day you left, and there were times when he thought he made it through and then there were nights like tonight where he didn’t believe he would ever be free of the ache that came from losing you. One of these days, he hoped, your love wouldn’t have this grasp on him anymore. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to live in a world where he no longer loved you.

No, that was not a hurt he wanted to endure. This was all pointless if his heart doesn’t belong to you.

There was a soft knock at his door, and Bucky was immediately irritated. Steve checking in on him again. He did the same thing five years ago. Always stopping by at random hours as if Bucky was going to drink himself to death or something else equally stupid. He pushed his hair back out of his face not bothering to put a shirt on. If Steve wanted to bug him at two in the morning, he got to see Bucky in nothing but dirty ass sweatpants. Maybe he will think twice before waking someone up after this – not that he has been sleeping at all since your fight.

“Steve I swear to God–” Bucky stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath when he saw you standing on the other side of the door, wide-eyed and restlessly fiddling with your bracelets.  Damn, he should have put on a shirt. No words were exchanged – words weren’t needed when it came to you. He let go of the doorknob and stepped back giving you space to come in when you were ready. It needed to be your choice just like it would be your choice if the door stayed open.

You slipped into the small space he left ajar and quickly shut the door behind you. You both stared at each other unsure who should speak up first or what to say once you did.  His brow wrinkled, mouth opened and then shut. Bucky didn’t know where to start, Why are you here? What the hell took you so long? Is this what the end looks like? Two in the morning and dirty sweats? Because I’m done for if you leave again. I can’t go another day without you.

The stillness in the air made your heart pound against your chest threatening to break free and reveal all your weaknesses. Your eyes roam over his chest taking in the new additions to his skin. Your eyes followed the black ink along his left arm, ‘sine timore’ sticking out in the middle of his bicep as of reminder of what comes first. Every member had those words inked somewhere on their skin, and you hated them with everything you had There was only one addition you noticed – a date over his heart.

The date you met.

It had been added to the work he had over the left side of his chest, and your heart was heavy from the weight of your guilt and all the things you kept from him. Your fingers fiddled with the straps of your bracelets and with your heart pounding in your ears the soft brown leather slipped from your fingers landing on the floor between you.

Bucky’s eyes fell to your wrist trying to understand what you were doing, but the second he saw it, he knew. His eyes snapped up to meet yours, they were begging you for an explanation, and all you could give him was a shrug. Because you didn’t know why it was still there. You couldn’t count the number of times you had tried to get it removed, but it never felt right. No matter what how hard you endeavored you couldn’t erase him from your skin. 

He moved slowly towards you until your back was pressed flat against the closed bedroom door, his hand was on your wrist the second you were within reach and pad of his thumb pressing heavily against the swallow still imprinted on your delicate skin. Bucky bent forward slightly, his eyes watching you silently asking for your permission. It’s always had to be your decision. Yeah, in the past, he wouldn’t have held back at a time like this, but things were different now. Tattoo or not, you weren’t his, and you haven’t been his in years.

It’s taken him a long time to admit that, still, all Bucky could see was your lips.

Your chin raised silently giving him the permission he was seeking. His hips pushed into yours pinning you against the door, and his lips were on yours before either of you could think about the consequences. His lips brushed over yours, delicate and demanding – devouring every inch of you. A hand came up and cupped your jaw holding you still, your eyes fluttered closed letting his touch, his lips consume you entirely. Bucky didn’t let up until you were both panting and breathless.

He released your jaw and tightened his hold on your wrist as he pulled you back towards the bed, his grip loose enough that you could pull away not that you were going to. Your heart has been struggling to find it’s place since you returned and it finally found it.

--------

Bucky blew out a thick cloud of smoke and put out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray next to him. The sun had been up for a few hours now and there were hushed movements in the kitchen but he was in no hurry to move. There was plenty of reasons to not leave his bed this morning, and every one of them was wrapped up in you.

A soft orange light was peeking through the cracks in the blinds covering his bedroom window, setting a gentle glow against your skin. He stared at you laying in bed next to him, your back rising and falling steadily with each breath and your arms wrapped tightly around his pillow. Fuck, he really messed this up. Bucky didn’t want things to go down like that way this time. He was trying hard to not repeat his past mistakes, but it seemed Bucky couldn’t escape them no matter how hard he attempted to right all the wrongs he had done to you.

The thin white sheet was barely covering your lower half – a sight he never thought he would see again after your talk. He ached to be happy that you were here, but his brain wouldn't let go of every way this could go wrong. What was going to happen when you woke up? The whole night felt like a mistake. The rock sitting in his gut was telling him this was a mistake. It was too sudden, too rash and after everything that happened, he should have taken his time. The genuine fear was eating away at his heart telling him you were going to bolt when the realization of last night finally hit you.

His knuckles grazed down the back of your arm as you began to stir.  Time to face the music then. You reached out in your sleepy haze and wrapped an arm around his waist attempting to pull him closer to you.  He obliged and grinned at the sight of his name scrolled on your ribs following the curve of your left breast. Bucky was the only one that knew it was there and he wanted to keep it that way – or he thought he was the only one. A pang of jealousy washed over him as his mind wandered to the five years you were gone, and he wondered how many men have seen it.

Probably better if he doesn’t dwell on ‘what ifs’ this morning. You were there in his bed, and that was all that matters. He bent down and pressed a kiss to your temple. The heady scent of cigarettes and soap pulled you from the soft waves of sleep you were floating in.

“Hi,” You croaked, hoarse from sleep as you caught his eyes.

“Hey.”

Bucky smiled and ran his left hand down your back letting his hand rest on your lower back, fingers skimming the edge of the sheet. He could just not say anything. You could both avoid the inevitable and live in this little bubble for a few moments longer, but it would be an insult to both of you. Bucky knew all too well he can’t hide from what’s beyond that door and all that was expected of him.

“We should talk about last night, pretty girl. Last night was incredible. Unexpected but incredible. I thought–” He ran his right hand along his jaw. “It’s been over a month. I thought I lost you and all this. Then you show up here in the middle of the night, and we slip right back into old habits.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Buck.” You admitted before he got any further because it was the truth. You didn’t know what you were doing when you showed up at his door, all you knew was this is where you should be regardless of the history you shared and the warning bells that were echoing, loudly, in your head.

“Clint?” 

You answered him with a simple head shake. No, Clint didn’t know you were at the clubhouse and in bed with Bucky. Though he would be figuring it out here any minute when he went to wake you for breakfast only to find an empty bed and a hastily written note stuck to mirror above your dresser.

“We can chalk up to lingering feelings and a late-night mistake. No one has to know,” Bucky breathed, distressed and worn from the sheer thought of having to forget the feel of your skin under his hands. 

“Steve knows.” You whispered, “He caught me trying to sneak in.”

Bucky chuckled as his fingers slipped under the sheet and ghosted over the delicate skin hiding beneath the covers.  “Okay, just the three – or, four of us have to know.”

“Peggy?”

“Yeah, he definitely told Pegs.” He said with a roll of his eyes. “Steve spills everything the second they are alone. They won’t say a thing if I tell them not to. Say the word, and it’s forgotten.”

It would be easy to claim it was all a foolhardy slip-up spurred from the closure neither of you was granted years ago. There was no doubt that there were flames still burning, embers still smoldering for him – there would always be pieces of you lingering within his soul. Forgetting would be the easy out for you both.

“What if I don’t want to do that.” You whispered, soft and hesitant, a silent tremor in your voice.

“Do what, baby?”

You’re either in love with him, or you’re not.

“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen, but I’m scared this is going to blow up in my face again.” You mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.  “I think I’m addicted to you. There are good reasons they say addictions break you down and tear you apart.”

“I promise you nothing is going to break you down again,” Bucky swore, scrambling not to lose this second chance.  “I know there are more than enough reasons for you to never trust me again and I know you deserve better than me, but I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to make us work this time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat watching your fingers trace the swallow on the top of his hand. Steve was right, and man did you hate it when he was right. You couldn’t continue to be half in, one foot out the door always ready to run if something doesn’t go your way. You either loved him, or you didn’t, and you needed to make a choice. Right then. The right decision was palpable, and you knew what choice you were going to make.

“If we do this you can’t hide things from me. Even things that might hurt me and all the things that you’re scared of. You have to show me all of you, even the broken pieces you don’t want me to see.”

“Baby.” He sighed and let his forehead rest against yours. “I’ll show you the broken parts of my soul if you promise not to run when you see the monster I am because of them.”

“You are many things, Buck,” You whispered softly. “But a monster isn’t one of them.”

Doubt and worry were flashing vividly in his eyes. You could practically hear his mind racing as he tried to figure it all out that very second. He needed it all planned out before either of you made it out bed and that wouldn't happen. It wouldn’t be that easy. Your relationship was too complicated for that. Bucky brought your hand up and placed a gentle kiss to your wrist – The two of you were gonna have a chat about that here soon you had a strong suspicion.

“What does this mean?” He asked finally.

“It means,” You said, interrupting the raging thoughts you knew were surging in his head. “We are going to take things one day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” Bucky repeated. “I can do one day at a time.”

Slow and steady. Bucky could do that if that’s what you needed. He would do whatever it takes to make this forever.

Forever won’t happen overnight, but he can make it one day at a time.

Previous // Next

[godofplumsandthunder]

Wicked (3/10) - What Is This Feeling

Summary: Bucky Barnes did many horrendous and evil things. He didn’t felt worthy of love and affection because after all, who could learn to love a monster.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1.5K

Masterlist

"Now, all that's left to show you is your apartment and the commons area," Tony Stark commented as you left the lab. "My apartment?" You asked, very confused. "What did you expect? That we'd leave you by yourself? Plus, there's no place safer for you to stay." Tony explains to you as he leads you back into the elevator. "All of the main Avengers all live here at the compound. The only exception to that is Clint. He lives on a farm with his family, only being called out when he is needed. Well, here we are. Your new apartment. I'm going to leave you so you can get settled in, but once again Y/N, welcome to the Avengers." Tony tells you while handing you the keys to your new apartment. Stepping into your new apartment took your breath away. Everything is so big and spacious. It's a simple layout. You have a shared living room, kitchen, and dining room area. You have the master bedroom and bathroom as well as a guest room. You don't know what to do with all this space. Considering that for the last 4 years you were held in a 12' x 9' cell, you feel like you're living in Buckingham Palace. Hell, your closet, which to your surprise is filled with brand new clothes in your size, is bigger than your former living arrangements. You make your way to your new bedroom and collapse onto your new bed. This is the first time in 4 years that you've slept on a mattress, and how you've missed this feeling. You close your eyes and decide on taking a quick nap. You're far too exhausted to socialize or get any work done, so you might as well get a few hours of sleep into you.

A few hours later, a text message wakes you up. Another perk of working with Tony Stark. You get the newest and best Stark phone that's available.

Tony:

Y/N can you come down? The whole team is here, and I'd like to introduce you to them.

The message was sent only a few minutes ago. Guess you're meeting the team a whole lot earlier than you'd wanted to. But you live in the same building as these people, so you figure you might as well get it over with sooner than later. You check your self in the mirror and find your self semi appeasable. You grab your phone and keys and make your way over to the elevator.

"I don't get why I have to go down and meet her, Steve," Bucky, the reformed assassin and centenarian asks. "Because Buck, she is new to the team and you are a part of this team. It's the polite thing to do. Plus, she was rescued from HYDRA. If anyone could understand what she is going through it would be you," Steve reminds his best friend as they make their way down to the common area. You make your way down and see that everyone is here today to meet you, well everyone but Captain America. But Thor made a special visit just to meet you. No pressure right? You just have to impress all of the Avengers, which one just happens to be a god. "Well, if it isn't the belle of the ball. Glad you could finally grace us with your presence," Stark jokingly commented, while handing you a glass of champagne. "Let me help you make the rounds, so you can finally meet everyone." The first person he introduced you to was Dr. Bruce Banner, the man that you'd be working with. You started talking about different fields of neuroscience. You probably talk for a lot longer than Stark wanted to be there for, so he ushers you around through the rest of the Avengers. You learned very quickly who scared you and who didn't. Black Widow, definitely scared you. She kept the conversation to a minimum and eyed you down as if you were some sort of threat. Thor, on the other hand, reminded you of a puppy. While he looked imitating with all those muscles and hammer, he was a soft and fun guy that you could see getting along with whenever he was on earth. You're in the middle of talking with Clint when the elevator dings and you hear a very loud and angry "What the fuck are you doing here?" You turn around and see Captain America with the Soldat. "Shit," you mumble under your breath.

"Answer me! Who let that fucking bitch into the compound?" Bucky yells as he starts heading your way, visibly angry. "Calm down there Manchurian candidate. Y/N is here because she is the newest member of the team," Tony explains very level headed. "Like hell she is. Not after what she did!" Bucky screams while swinging a punch at you. Luckily, your instincts were fast and you were able to dodge his arm. His punch sent the rest of the team into chaos. Natasha and Clint pull you away and take you somewhere safe, while Steve takes Bucky out of the room. Your hearts pounding, your mouth feels dry, and you are absolutely terrified. You didn't know that the Soldat, well Bucky, ended up with the Avengers. All you knew was that he escaped from HYDRA. And you couldn't be mad at him for taking a swing at you, considering all that you put him through.

"What the hell was that Buck?" Steve all but yells at Bucky. He was able to put him in one of the "safe" rooms that were stashed throughout the compound. "You don't understand what she did to me, Steve. You just don't," Bucky tells Steve, with tears in his eyes. "Well, then why don't you start from the beginning. Tell me whatever feels comfortable for you to share. You know I'm here for you Buck."

"She was the one at the chair, Steve. She was the one that would wipe my memories away. I say that like it was nothing. She would cause me to be in so much pain. And the worst part, she didn't show any remorse. It looks like she has no problem over the fact that she just fucked up my brain. Yet I'm the one who is in trouble? I'm the one who crossed the line? What would you do Steve if you were in my position? Wouldn't you do the same thing?" Bucky tells all of this to Steve, with tears streaming down his face. "I-I didn't know Buck. I'm going to talk to Stark about this. And just so you know, I would have done the same thing, pal," Steve says to Bucky, grasping his shoulder for a moment before he left.

"You have some explaining to do. I just finished talking with Bucky and he told me that you were the person that would erase his memories. Is this true, Y/N?" Steve interrogates you. You could see and feel his anger radiating off him. "It is but it isn't. If you could let me just explain what happened," You pleaded with him, desperate to get your story out.

"Not all of you might know this, but I am Dr. Y/N L/N. I have an M.D. and a P.H.d in neuroscience. Four years ago, I was kidnapped by HYDRA. Up until yesterday, I was held captive by HYDRA. They would make me do unspeakable things. Things that I am not proud of and things that I'm trying to make up for. Bucky was right, I was the one that was responsible for erasing his memories. I read about him in HYDRA's file, so I knew who he really was. And I felt bad for him. That he was forced to have his memories and brain messed with for so long. When HYDRA put me in charge of erasing his memory, I resisted them. They wanted me to erase everything, to turn Bucky into a clean slate. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't allow HYDRA to keep ruining his life. So, I did erase his memories, but only the memories of the days he was out of the cyrofreeze. I didn't touch any of the other memories. That is how he was able to remember you, Steve. Remember the killings he did before I came. That's why he remembers who he is. I promise you, Steve, I tried to hurt Bucky as little as I had to." You tell Steve all of this, hoping that he would believe you. "Well, Y/N, I'm sorry for the way I talked to you and I'm also sorry for the way Bucky treated you. He doesn't know any of this. He just sees you like the latest to cause him pain," Steve, who seemed to accept your version of events, says. "And I understand that. But do you think you could help me explain this to him? I'd like to apologize to him, for all the pain that I caused." "I don't know if he is willing to listen, Y/N. But I'll see what I can do," Steve tells you as he stands up to leave.

With Steve gone, you are left alone with your thoughts. They tell you that you really are a monster. Seeing Bucky reminds you of all of the lives you've destroyed, his included. You push these thoughts to the back of your brain, where they will linger for days to come. Haunting your dreams, and keeping you awake for nights on end.

[tylergparker]

{ self para; 001 }

There was a certain instinct that had kicked in several years ago, Tyler realized...

Evidently being pregnant and taking care of herself and her unborn child all those years ago - even just a child herself - had given her some motherly instinct that she hadn’t fully expected. It hurt her a lot of the time, feeling that way, thinking certain ways. Between the way her own mother had dropped the ball enough that it set an example of what not to be like - to be what she wanted - and her own momentary fantasies of raising a child while she had been pregnant, Tyler had a fairly solid idea of how to react to certain situations when they involved kids.

Like when one was sitting alone outside the boogie board rental shack sniffling.

The girl had had every intention of renting a board herself, hitting the water, burning off some energy, but that shifted quickly. A look of concern creased her brow, twitched her lips down in a subtle frown as she stepped around the corner of the small building where the child sat by herself.

“Hey, honey, you okay?” Tyler asked gently.

The little girl looked up at, one hand lifting to rub at a damp eye. “My brother went to play with the bigger kids and left me.”

Teeth chewing at the inside of her lower lip, Tyler slowly squatted down to the child’s level. It was out of her presented character, and she realized that if anyone who recognized her happened to witness what was going on, there were bound to be questions. She didn’t care, though, that wasn’t important. This was where her focus was.

“Where’s your mom?” Tyler asked.

“At the grown ups pool with my daddy.” The little girl whined.

Tyler nodded sympathetically. “Do you want me to take you there to find them?”

Unsurprisingly, the child looked apprehensive through the budding tears in her eyes. Tyler had to give it to her; at least she knew about stranger danger, even in a moment of distress.

“My name is Tyler,” She tried, offering her a small smile. “What’s your name?”

“L-Lily..” Was a wobbled answer as the child began crying a little more notable.

“Lily, that’s a very pretty name, did you know that? It’s so nice to meet you.” Tyler murmured, settling fully onto her knees in front of the girl instead of simply squatting.

She wasn’t sure how long she was going to be here for, given the distress the child was under. Realistically, Tyler should have found a member of resort staff, informed them of the situation. She shouldn’t have taken it upon herself to help the little girl. Some part of her couldn’t help it, however. And it was definitely a part of her that would hurt later, she knew it. Her consciousness was warring in her brain - knowing that helping this little girl, bonding with her, was going to make her feel things and think about things that she worked so hard to keep behind a tightly shut door, but also feeling completely unable to trust anyone else to take care of the little girl who needed her help. That was all she was doing, after all, helping.

Knowing enough about kids from various church events - a whole other damn life ago - she knew how to speak to them well enough, how to soothe them if needed.

“How old are you, Lily? Do you think I could guess?” Tyler asked, a barely there edge of playfulness creeping into her tone.

Lily sniffled but otherwise shook her head. Bingo, she was engaging. That was going to be key to helping her calm down and get where she needed to be.

“You don’t think I can guess?” Tyler clarified, lifting her brows and smiling a little wider. “I don’t know, I think I could probably guess. Are you... four?”

Lily’s brow creased downward as she frowned and sharply shook her head. Tyler breathed out a light laugh.

“You’re not four? Oh no, I thought I really had it. How aboooout,” She made a purposeful show of tilting her head one way and then the next. “Three years old?”

She was playing with the girl on purpose, hoping to get the little bit of crying Lily was still doing to fully subside. It was hard not being able to soothe the little girl by way of a hug, admittedly, it was an instinct for Tyler - one that most more than likely didn’t expect. Once again the older of the two girls found herself letting out a gentle laugh at the displeased scrunch of Lily’s features.

“No, bigger.” She specified.

“Oh, bigger, okay, I’m so sorry.” Tyler apologized and brought her hand up to her chin as if she were thinking for a long moment. “Are youuuu.... six years old?”

Lily’s eyes blew a little wider and the beginnings of a smile appeared as she nodded her head a couple quick times.

Something about the knowledge of the girl’s age turned in Tyler’s stomach, tightened in her chest. She knew even in approaching the child that there was no way she was older than eight, but the irony of her being the exact age of her own daughter was a painful one. Still, she managed to stick with her intentions, to not to crumble in on herself just yet.

That could wait until later.

“Six, wow, you’re right, that’s so big. You’re almost as old as I am.” Tyler grinned faintly.

Lily wiped at one of her eyes and let out a gentle laugh. “No it’s not, ‘cause you’re a grown up.”

An instinctive ‘debatable’ echoed in the back of Tyler’s mind, lingered on the tip of her tongue. It would have been a common retort to any one of her friends, an expected one even on a normal occurrence. This wasn’t exactly one of those, however.

“You know what, you’re right, I am a grown up, which means I can definitely get into the grown ups pool, huh?” Tyler lifted a brow. “Do you want to come with me and see if we see your mommy and daddy?”

Once again Lily seemed to be a little apprehensive at first, sniffling one more time as she blinked wet lashes at the older girl. Finally the little girl gave a nod of her blonde haired head. Tyler gave a nod and a reassuring smile back to her before standing up from the sand and holding her hand out.

Some other, opposite instinct very nearly had her jerking her hand back once again from the small hand that fell against her own palm. Fight or flight, maybe? Her subconscious trying to give her one last out of this ‘no good, very bad, super terrible idea’ that had a whole lot of potential to leave her in a not great position later on? She managed not to greatly confuse the child, however, keeping her hold on her hand and beginning to lead the way around the back of the board rental shack to head back from the private beach to the hotel’s pool areas.

It was ten minutes. Ten minutes tops that she walked hand in hand with Lily, going to the adult pool to find her parents. Ten minutes of talking about first grade. Ten minutes of hearing about a ‘mean big brother.’ Ten minutes of playfully guessing each other’s favorite colors - both red. Ten minutes of Tyler realizing she was going to be absolutely fucked later.

Lily’s parents were confused by the appearance of a random twenty-three year old coming into the adult area with their six year old daughter. However, after getting the story about what happened, the woman thanked Tyler, even went so far as to apologize to her for having to take time out of her vacation. Tyler reassured that it was no problem. She was happy to help. She’d kind of checked out a little at that point, though.

Somewhere between a goodbye to Lily where the six year old flung herself in a hug around Tyler’s legs for ‘being nice to her’ and going back down to the beach to fetch her shorts again, Tyler had lost track of what she was doing. How else had she ended up locked in a bathroom with her back pressed against the door, head tilted backward, eyes squeezed shut? How else had she gotten to a point of counting down from one hundred, taking careful, slow breaths, because her heart was suddenly beating so fast?

She managed to calm down enough to fish her phone out of the back pocket of the shorts she hadn’t actually put back on yet. Her teeth had a firm pinch on her lower lip as she opened up her text messages, scrolling down far enough to one from nearly a month ago.

Texting with Dylan wasn’t frequent. It wasn’t casual or friendly - nothing like it ever was years ago. They were kind of a go-between at this point. If Rick and Shannon sent either or the other of them any pictures of Sophia, they had the decency to check with one another to make sure that they both got them. Most times Tyler made it a habit of just sending them without asking - if he’d already gotten them anyway what did it matter, he’d just have them a second time? Dylan, however, had a habit of asking her if she wanted them. It had taken her a while to realize what his reasoning for that was. But it was because even after all the time and all the distance in between, he still fucking knew her well enough to know how emotional she could get. He was looking out for her.

A month ago Rick and Shannon had taken Sophia to the Grand Canyon over Spring Break. At the time, when Dylan had asked her just like he always did if she wanted the pictures that they had sent to him from their trip, Tyler hadn’t answered. That was always answer enough for Dylan. He never asked a second time, he never called her to check and see if she had gotten his message. He asked once, and Tyler didn’t answer, that was the end of it. She tapped into that message now, though, blinking a quick few, hard times.

Can you send me one of those pictures?

Her thumb hovered over the little blue arrow that would send her message. She wasn’t sure what stopped her still. The echoing pulse in her ears, maybe? The lump lodged in her throat? The ever-present reminder that she didn’t need to do this to herself all the time? Rolling her lips tightly together, she erased the typed out messaged and closed her messages entirely. Instead she thumbed into her phone. It wasn’t a surprise to find her two most recent calls were to her two best friends - they were living together for the week, and she liked to drag them out to do things, so she called them enough to know what they were up to, sue her.

Ry, Jay, Ry, Jay, Ry, Jay.

Her gaze flicked back and forth between the two recent calls, reciting the contact names in her head on a loop. God, she was certifiably crazy. This was why kids needed more than a school counselor to talk to after emotional trauma thanks mom. Tyler opted out of calling either of the boys. She was sure that if they realized she was having an unprecedented meltdown over something that they would drop what they were doing to come talk her down, there was no doubt about that. It was more that she realized this wasn’t the time or the place. They were in fucking Hawaii, they were on a fucking vacation. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and she wasn’t going to be the asshole to soil that for anyone else, especially not them. If she didn’t get it the fuck together, she was going to wreck the rest of it for herself.

Taking in a slow deep breath through her nose, Tyler closed her phone app, bringing up her home screen. The picture of Sophia with her face painted with a butterfly mask - from when Shannon and Rick had taken her to the Orange County Fair over the past summer - looked back at her. For a moment, several pictures of herself when she was little crossed her mind. The one and only time Dylan had ever said more than asking if she wanted the pictures was when he had mentioned how much Sophia looked like her. She was missing one of her front teeth in the picture, smiling wide all the same, so proud of the pretty pinks and purples and shimmery white and silver glitters that made a butterfly on her perfect, perfect little face.

“Fuck.” Tyler huffed out to herself, squeezing her eyes shut tightly for a brief moment.

Blindly locking her phone, the girl stuffed it back into her shorts and then finally yanked them back up her legs. Then she approached the bathroom mirror, looking pointedly at her reflection as her hands held at either side of the cool sink edge.

“Look, T. Let’s get it the fuck together, alright?” She was alone in the bathroom so it wasn’t like anyone could see or hear how crazy she was, talking to her own reflection. “Be sad later, on your own time, not on Hawaii time. When we get back to Chicago? Cry all you fucking want, but not right now. Take a deep breath, go get another maitai or six,” She jerked her shoulder up then down in a sharp shrug. “Find a nice looking stranger to fuck, go get a massage, jump in the ocean, I don’t fucking know, but you don’t get to do this right now.”

Crazy as she seemed, Tyler was unfortunately all too familiar with the backwards pep talks that she had to give herself. The verbal way she had to push down her own thoughts and feelings to keep them buried like always. It was something she had perfected several years ago, burying and burying. It had gotten her this far.

Hopefully it continued to get her farther.

[cardandpixel]

RocketBook Flip - a rare review and it’s not a game!

Before I go any further, I feel I must point out that I don’t have any financial connection to RocketBook whatsoever – this isn’t a piece that was requested or courted by RocketBook or affiliates and I’m not receiving any reward or sponsorship either in product or direct payment for this article. I just like the damn thing and love it when an innovative piece of tech (in this case quite low key) just works. Hi I’m Paul, and I have a bit of a problem with notebooks – A4 lined, sketch, reporters, Black & Reds (ohhhh the sheer number of B&Rs), goofy ones, serious work ones, battered ones, pristine ‘for best only’ ones – and they all fill at an alarming rate. I make notes on everything. Working as a sound engineer and designer, there’s always mix notes, soundscape plots, ideas, VO notes and scripts, SFX ideas etc etc. At home it’s a very different story – it’s much worse. Game notes; blog notes; hurriedly scribbled quiz questions spurred by watching another episode of Mental Floss’ 500 facts about cheese; RPG notes and story ideas; my own script writing; world building; sketches; other creative ideas; song/music notes and ideas; and that’s before we get to to-do lists; and the dreaded ‘things I must remember’. So my journal life is many, varied and plenty. The usual issue is… ‘what frakking journal did I put that amazing idea in????’, and that’s way before we get to the utter horror that is possibly losing a whole journal or forgetting to bring one home from work. I’m 53, I forget more than I recall, and journals help bring some semblance of order to a massively chaotic and fertile brain. What I’ve needed for a long time is some way of organising all this info or centralising it in some way. Sure I’ve looked at apps – I used Things, Evernote, Notes, and One Note for years, and they are really, really good, but they relied on either having a charged device exactly when I need it (yeah – me too) or net access, which for a new-ish theatre, is surprisingly a bit of an issue at work. And the most important part – I actually enjoy the physical act of handwriting long-hand. I still write actual physical letters to people, it’s adorable and a bit creepy in this age, but I call it charming and leave it at that. Handwriting, for me, allows me time to think and process in a way that typing just doesn’t. Handwriting is slower, I rarely cross anything out, and so I always have the whole of the thought. So what I’ve ideally wanted for years, was a reliable way of organising all my notes and storing them electronically so I have access even without the actual journal, with OCR so they’re editable, and still being a tactile handwritten experience. I’m naturally a sceptic (I actually subscribe to Fortean Times – yeah – I card carry!) and so online ads and particularly FaceAche ads are a field day for critical thinking triggers. I don’t think I’ve ever received from Wish, exactly what I ordered from Wish. And so when an ad from RocketBook constantly kept popping up on my timeline a few weeks ago, I was naturally “it’ll never work” But their website looked legit enough – they had a dedicated UK shop, it was relatively steep to buy in but not so wild that if it didn’t work I wouldn’t be crying too much about the money wasted, and at the end of the day it was a 10th the price of a ReMarkable 2 which is actually what I thought would solve my problem. I’m furloughed at the mo and though I could argue the case for £300+ notebook (test me, I could), I just couldn’t justify it now. And RocketBook had a good summer intro offer. I ordered on the Wednesday, and the impressively glitzy and graphic-design-playbook poly package was dropped on my doorstep just 2 days later by my cheery postie who yelled up the drive “Package for ya, looks very exciting!!!!” I like that our postal service is still invested in the hopes and dreams of their customers. It was exciting. All the instructions for getting started with my new Teal RocketBook A4 Flip were right there before you even open it. The main body houses the pad and a cleaning cloth, and a clever little side pocket houses the supplied Pilot Frixion pen.

RocketBooks come in several models, all configured slightly differently. I have the Flip which is a top spiral-bound softback pad with 21 double sided ‘pages’ giving 42 pages in total. The Flip has lined paper one side, and dot paper on the reverse (great for D&D maps, impromptu tables, mixer channel plots etc)

DELIVERY & FIRST IMPRESSIONS The pads are nicely made, with sturdy covers (available in some really nice colours too) and a solid, thick plastic ring binding. Initially, The RocketBook does feel a bit odd. Its ‘pages’ are actually a synthetic polyester blend and feel quite shiny to the touch. The sort of surface you just instantly feel is not going to be great for ink! Each page is edge-to-edge lined or dotted with a heavy black border. At the bottom is a prominent QR code used for scanning and some very feint icons. These 7 icons are the key to the ease of use of the RocketBook series. But more later.

THE APP

The pads work with a companion app, that is absolutely free and available for Apple & Android. In fact, RB even do downloadable printable pages so you can try the whole system absolutely free before you buy – I didn’t, I just bought one, y’know. The app allows you to set up your destination locations, your preferences and does the actual scanning. Just one quick note, I have the app on both my phone and iPad and had to set-up the app the same for both, there appears to be no way of swapping preference settings between devices, though I can see why this may be intentional.

Currently, the RocketBook allows you to choose from the following locations to send files to: GoogleDrive, box, EverNote, DropBox, slack, OneNote, iCloud, OneDrive as well as simply to an email (or multiple) addresses and iMessage. Impressively, these are not fixed either, so you could choose your 7 destinations to be 7 email addresses of team members. These 7 locations are the icons at the bottom of each page. To select a destination for your file, you just make a mark in that icon box (tick, circle, something unsavoury) and that page will be sent to whichever you select. This makes the system very flexible indeed as not every page is necessarily sent to every destination. You always decide every time you fill a page. Change your mind on a second revision? No problem, add or change icons at any time and re-upload.

There’s a really handy table on the inside front cover for you to note what icon sends what where. This is also wipeable, so can be changed anytime.

I have mine set by default to:

Rocket > main email address (either as PDF, JPG, OCR embedded or as separate txt file)

Diamond > GoogleDrive (you can specify exactly what folder too)

Apple > iMessage

Bell > OneNote

That actually still leaves me 3 spare: shamrock; star; and horseshoe.

The app took me maybe 20mins to set-up, that included decision time for destinations and setting up a few target folders. It also included a few ‘test firings’. I didn’t get everything right first time and a few things didn’t send, but crucially, a tiny bit of digging revealed very simple troubleshooting (including the aforementioned issue with no sync’ing of phone and iPad), and all in I was finding the files in all the right destinations within about 30 mins. The website, FAQs and community are immensely helpful with any other issues as well. I had a tiny issue with OneNote seeming to take ages to sync, but I think that’s an issue with my OneNote settings, everything else was almost instantaneous. You can also handily set the app to auto-send as soon as it scans, or allow for manual review.

CLEAN UP ON AISLE ROCKETPAD The main reason I wanted to look at the RocketBook was the issue of reusability. My journal shenanigans are by no means the biggest ecological disaster on the planet, but if we are to believe Tesco (who probably issue as many receipts at our local Tesco Express in a day as journals I’ve ever used), every little helps. If I could find an ecologically better solution, I should at least take a look. The RocketPads work by partnering with Pilot pens called Frixion. The really clever bit is RB’s paper technology and how it works with the Frixion ink. At present, the pads only work with the Frixion pens – except the RB Colour which works with Crayola’s dry-erase crayons. When you write on the ‘paper’ with a Frixion pen, it remains wet for a few seconds and then dries pretty quickly. There’s no smudging whatsoever in transit, which is pretty cool. From then on, it may as well be permanent, until you have transmitted your page and decide you don’t want the text anymore.  To wipe the page clean, you can dampen the supplied cloth and just wipe the surface clean, it’s weird but it works! But then damp cloth in your bag? So I use kitchen roll to dampen, then wipe dry with theirs. Others even have an adorably kitsch spray bottle in their kit. RB reckon if you are not going to use the pad for a few months, to clean the pages as the ink can get trickier to shift after a long time, but for day-to-day use, I’ve tried writing and wiping well over 20x and the page hasn’t become discoloured or tarnished at all. The only pad different in the range is the Wave which cleans by microwaving! Do NOT do this with any of the others, bad things will happen. The ink doesn’t take scrubbing or any time to come up, I clean my pages in about 10-15s. The page can feel a little tacky when it’s damp, but leave a minute or so and the page will be back to normal. RB do say that odd things can happen if the book is left near a heatsource or in a hot car, vis-à-vis, the ink can completely disappear horrifyingly enough. They say that putting the pen or the pad in the freezer for a little while will actually restore the ink, but I’ve not tried it yet so can’t confirm or deny how that goes. Handy for spies in hot countries though, so there’s another target market. If you are always going to send your pages to the same places, then don’t erase the marked icons, and the page is ready for new notes straight away, otherwise, scrub them too.

I CAN’T READ YOUR WRITING – ARE YOU A DOCTOR? Initially, the RB pads send their files as scans of the pages in high contrast monochrome (colour is available) when you snap the page in the app (which auto-frames for you and takes maybe 10s to capture). The formats are either as images or PDF. If that had been it, I would have been quite happy, but the RB pads have another trick up their sleeve. Firstly, they have a function called ‘Smart Titles’ which allows you to name your files directly from the page by writing a filename between double hashtags ie ## this is my scrawl 24/8/20 ## and the file will pop up in your destinations with the filename “this is my scrawl 24/08/20” – this is insanely handy – there’s no protocol except your own and the hashtags, and it makes your files super easy to search. You can even send groups of pages as a single PDF. But the notebooks go even further. They actually offer full searchable OCR which the app can be set to send embedded in the PDF or image, or more usefully, as a companion separate .txt file. Now, my handwriting isn’t the neatest, but it’s not bad so I was prepared for some editing to be necessary, but impressively again, the OCR was about 90-95% accurate. In a page of text it missed maybe 3 or 4 words and even those not badly. This is all considering their full OCR is still only in beta! It gets confused with diagrams on the page, but that’s to be expected.

Text Generated by OCR: ## Blog post och test Aug 2020 ## This is a little demonstration of the OCR capabilities of the Rocket Book pads and app. I've told the lovely people that the hit rate is about 90-95% so please dant let me down here flip pad. Hopefully the file name will also prove another point further up in the section and not make me look like some charlatan or snake-oil salesman.Hope you enjoyed this demonstrahen, now go away and leave me to write the next great novella.Bye!

HOW MUCH? On average, I pay anywhere from £4-8 for a decent A4 notebook/journal, so at £30-37 (dependent on model), the RocketBook pads are not a whim purchase. That said, I get through a lot of journals in a year, and given that I would expect to easily get 2-3 years out of a RocketBook pad, then I’ve saved money. Will it replace all my notebooks? No. You need to be thinking of carrying this round as a kit: pad, Frixion pen (at least 2), and cloth.  RB do a series of portfolio sleeves for the pads but it does push the price up a bit still, but for a rep, engineer or salesperson, this still makes sense. They’re less bulky than a normal A4 pad too. What I would say is Tesco and Sainsbury’s currently stock Frixion pens and at much better prices than buying them from RB directly, I just paid £3 for 3 pens on offer at Tesco compared to £10 from RB. You get one pen with the pad, but you’re going to want more soon, so stock up next time you’re shopping for truffle oil crisps. If you use whiteboards a lot, RB also have you covered. Instead of the pad, £16 will get you a 4 pack of ‘beacons’ – little self-adhesive triangles that effectively do the same thing as the QR code in the pad. You don’t have the icon options obviously, but if you’re looking to distribute quick meeting or group notes, this would be a boon. CONCLUSION Considering this was a fairly speculative purchase on my part, my early experiences with the RocketBook Flip have been really impressive. The flexibility, the ability to store every page in a different location if you really wanted to make it fantastic for organising my notes, which can save me hours of finding the right ^^$&^$&$ notebook in the first place, then scouring that for the one paragraph I was looking for etc etc. The searchable text facility, in-app history for re-sending etc and last but no way least, functional handwriting OCR, makes the RocketBook not only novel, but actually useable! Would I buy another? As a second notebook – yes. I look forward to seeing what the actual longevity of the product is once I come off furlough and start cramming my day bag with all my junk and a notepad again, but yes, I’d probably just have one at home, and one for work, but make the last 5 mins of each day, scanning and sending work notes so I have them with me wherever. Impressively, the RocketBook Flip just works and it works well. ‘Er Across The Table has already sold several folk at her work on the idea and she doesn’t even have one herself yet! I love it. It’s taking a little adjusting to, but it’s all good. The most important thing though is the writing experience, and I have to say, the combination of the Frixion pen/ink and the polymer technology of the Flip, again, just works. It’s smooth, doesn’t skip or smudge for me (I know some right to left users and left handers have reported some issues) and feels great to write on. If anything I have to slow down a bit as the contact is so smooth that your writing can get a bit ahead of you! RocketBook have produced a cracker of a product. It might not seem like much, but if practical working journals are your thing (ie not create and keep things) then I can highly recommend the RocketBook series.

[jksmoongf]

Kissing Fire [pt. 8]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader x girlfriend (oc) Genre: cheater!AU, angst, smut Wordcount: 8.1k Warning: smut, lies, heartbreak and more lies and maybe fluff if you squint

Summary: It always feels like there is only one person in the world to love. And then you find somebody else.

a/n: I don’t condone cheating on your s.o., so please don’t read if you have a problem with this! (also I’m not saying this is something Jungkook would actually do!) Warning chapter 8: none ??? (it’s an angsty mess, profanities if you squint)

Breathing heavily Jimin’s eyes darted to the youngest member in the mirrored wall of the dance studio; every time he looked at him the betrayal he felt made him sick to his stomach. How could he have been so wrong about Jungkook? He had always treated him like his own flesh and blood; he had been there for him when he needed a shoulder to cry on but now his face was barely recognizable; almost like his eyes were trying to blur out the pain that was omnipresent in his heart every time he looked at his little brother.  He felt exhausted, unable to focus on anything, his dance moves were mechanical like his limbs automatically just repeated the moves from memory. He desperately needed sleep but every time he closed his eyes, his brain started to go into overdrive, not allowing him to rest until he passed out from exhaustion - only to relive the moment he had found out over and over again. It had been two days and his patience was wearing thin, running on three hours of sleep.  “That’s it for today.” Sungdeuk clapped his hands and turned the stereo off. “All of you should keep practicing!” He addressed the group but his eyes were focused on Jimin, wanting to spare him from the exposure in front of the others when agony was painted all over his face but at this point, he didn’t care. He had no energy left to apologize for his lack of commitment in the past few days.  The other members sat down on the floor and chairs, trying to calm down from going over the choreography over and over again. Jimin’s legs felt wobbly as he made his way over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, hoping that the cold liquid would refresh his senses and pull him out of this slump. The thought of drinking his sorrows away once he got home creeping up on him yet again, in hopes of passing out and finally getting the rest his body was longing for. 

“Jimin-ah, get me one too please.” Jin groaned, lying down flat on his back; arms and legs stretched out in all directions like a starfish. His heartfelt heavy like a ton of bricks, weighing down his entire body as he sluggishly made his way over to his hyung - it felt like he was just robotically dragging his legs from place to place. After handing the oldest his water; he walked back to one of the chairs, desperately needing to give his legs a break when his eyes caught a glimpse of Jungkook’s phone; he was tapping on a picture he had just been sent. Sharply Jimin sucked in a breath through his teeth, anger igniting in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Jungkook and y/n were secretly hooking up; she still had the audacity to send him lewd pictures. Immediately recognizing the slowly fading bruises on her bare ass from the video he so desperately tried to erase from his memory. From the little wiggle of his ears, Jimin knew the youngest was smiling as he zoomed in and out of the picture to take in every inch of her naked body. “Jungkookie, why are you smiling? Let me see.” Taehyung scooted over to the younger one, trying to get a glimpse of the screen but Jungkook quickly locked it, shoving the phone into his pocket.  “Oh nothing, it was just a meme Yugyeom posted into the group chat.” A loud thump echoed from the studio walls when Jimin’s water bottle hit the ground; he spun around storming out of the room; anger and hurt giving him enough energy to make his way to the break room at the end of the hallway. The door handle loudly crashed against the wall, making Ha-na look up from her laptop. “What the-“ “I can’t take it anymore.” Jimin’s voice was shaking as he pushed his hair from his forehead while pacing up and down between the small tables and chairs. “I changed my mind, I want us to talk to Jungkook.” Ha-na’s pupils were blown wide as she hastily closed her laptop, work not being her main priority anymore. “Why now? What made you change your mind?” “Because I just saw that y/n sends him nudes and I can’t stand it. It makes me so angry that they think they can get away with it.” His hands balled into fists; his whole body shaking in anger from the shameless display of treacherous behavior he had just witnessed. “Do you want to do it now? Because I’m so ready!” Ha-na got up, locking eyes with the boy across the table, he slowly nodded his head. “Phone.” She demanded, holding out her hand. “What are you doing?” He asked, handing her his phone with no hesitation. “Shooting a text to the little traitor letting him know we need to talk.” Fingers trembling with the excitement of the imminent confrontation as she typed out the message. [Jungkookie - 4:34pm] We need to talk! Right now! “Do you think he’ll come?” He wondered, his eyes glued to the chat on his phone when the three dots in the small speech bubble made him screech. “And if he doesn’t I’ll drag his ass here myself.” She scoffed, watching as the little dots disappeared again. * Jungkook was hiding in the bathroom, after reading his older brothers texts over and over, a bad feeling started to spread in his chest. Those weren’t the casual texts they would send each other; this sounded troublesome and it scared him shitless. Perspiration gathering on his forehead, hands feeling clammy as he tried to wipe them on his sweatpants. His phone vibrated in his hand, an instant smile tugging on his lips when he saw her name, even now that he was scared of what Jimin wanted to talk about; nothing could outweigh the happiness he felt when he saw her name flash across the display. [y/n - 4:51pm] Sorry, I can’t talk right now. I had to sneak to the kitchen to text you back. Do you know what he wants? [Jungkook - 4:51pm] It’s okay, baby. No, I don’t //: do you think he knows? [y/n - 4:52 pm] I hope not. There’s no way he knows! We have been careful. Let me know how it went, okay? I love you, Kookie <3 Don’t worry, everything will be okay! 

[Jungkook - 4:53 pm] I will! I love you too baby For a brief moment he buried his face in his hands before leaving the bathroom; almost running into Yoongi who was walking to his studio. “Yah Jungkook-ah, watch where you’re going.” He playfully scolded him; forcing a nervous chuckle from the younger boy as he bowed repeatedly. “I’m sorry, hyung!” Jungkook watched the dark-haired boy turn around the corner; if Yoongi wasn’t mad at him that probably meant that Jimin was just messing with him. If he really screwed up, then all of his older brothers would know but his heart was still hammering against his ribcage as he opened to door to the break room where Jimin had told him to come. He was startled in his movements, when he saw Ha-na leaning against a table, her eyes now piercing his skull as he stood in the doorway. Jimin was pacing up and down the room, nervously fiddling with his phone. “Close the door!” Ha-na commanded before pointing to a chair that looked like they had put it there just for him. His obedient side kicked in and he did as he was told, slowly walking to take his seat; brain too numb to even realize what was going on. Nervousness was taking over his entire body, he could feel the sweat gathering in his hairline again, slowly streaming down the sides of his face. Ha-na’s gaze lingered on the boy who looked so tiny in his big sweater, his dark doe eyes wide and filled with questions and confusion. She despised the innocent look on his face with his mouth open in a slight o-shape; was he just trying to fool them into believing he didn’t do anything wrong, that he didn’t cheat on his girlfriend for months and months without feeling an ounce of guilt? “Do you want me to do it?” She asked Jimin, who had finally taken his position next to her, he simply nodded, his hands were shaking so he shoved them into the pockets of his jeans. “Fine, I’ll go ahead then."

Jungkook gulped down the big lump that was threatening to close up his throat. They looked so big and intimidating towering over him like hawks ready to attack their prey. A bead of sweat dripped down the back of his neck and followed the curve of his spine as his fingers dug into the soft material of his sweater. Ha-na cleared her throat, momentarily closing her eyes while taking a deep breath. “We know what you’re doing with y/n.” Jungkook’s body froze, his brain was petrified from fear while his heart was beating so fast he was sure he was gonna have an aneurysm in a matter of seconds. “What?” He croaked, mouth as dry as the desert. He was mortified, hoping that he just didn’t understand her right.  “You heard me!” He shook his head, eyes wide in panic as he tried to come up with a lie, anything that would get him out of this situation. “We’re not…” He began but Ha-na interrupted him right away. “Oh fuck me. Stop lying! Jimin…” She pointed to his brother, who had been quiet, just staring at his feet with a pained expression painted on his face. “And I have seen it! I saw you making out with her in the kitchen and Jimin saw your little video.” “No no no..” He mumbled to himself, hands flying to cover his ears from hearing any more of his secret from her lips. His pupils were moving unusually fast as he tried to get a grip of what was happening; the scenario he had feared the most was threatening to make his heart stop. “You got it wrong…we are not..” “Cut the bullshit!” Ha-na snapped. “You’re hooking up with her, stop denying it.” Jungkook sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, trying to stop it from trembling. This was all too much; he wanted to run away and hide somewhere where they wouldn’t find him. When his fight or flight senses kicked in and he jumped to his feet, ready to make a break for the door and run to find the only arms that would give him the comfort that he needed. “Sit down! You’re not going anywhere!” Jimin’s voice was sharp, cutting through him like a knife, his body responding involuntarily obliging the older one’s words. Ha-na pulled out a chair, sitting directly across from him. She tried to look him in the eyes but he just stared at his hands, his right leg bopping up and down quickly. His bangs were sticking to his forehead; she knew he was scared and some small part of her felt bad for the young boy sitting across from her but he had to learn that his actions had consequences. Jimin shifted in his spot; the silence was almost too much to bear, making him even more nervous than he already was - maybe this was the moment that would change the whole dynamic of the group. Jungkook definitely wasn’t the 16-year-old innocent boy anymore that needed to be babied; maybe they all had been too lenient with him. Their utmost admiration for him painting a false picture of the boy in front of him. “Jungkook…” Ha-na began, her voice sounded like it was very far away. His ears were deafening from the pressure in his head while his thoughts were just a jumbled mess, fighting to get the upper hand as he looked for a way to deflect the situation. “Hey…” His older brother nudged him with his foot, snapping him out of his trance. “You know what you two are doing is wrong, right?” She tried a simple approach, seeing as Jungkook was still in panic mode, looking like a deer that was about to get hit by a car at full speed. He nodded, his fingers picking at the fuzz on his cheek as his sleeve slipped down his arm a little, revealing the black leather bracelet Jimin had talked about the other night which she now saw for the first time. “Then why are you doing it?” His voice cracked as he attempted to speak. “I-I-…we…” “Are you just sleeping with her or what?” He shook his head. “No, I love her and she loves me…” Ha-na’s mouth fell open at the sudden confession; although she had been aware that it must have been more than the occasional sex, the actual words twisted her stomach into knots. “What? Since when?” “Ever since I saw her for the first time.” “You have been in love with y/n for like five years?” Jimin asked in disbelief; everything he thought he knew had been wrong, remembering the only time y/n had visited the dorms a few months before their debut in 2013. “No, when Taehyung brought her over after she moved here…” His voice was so small and fragile, on the verge of breaking at any given second. “We locked eyes and I just-…I didn’t know what it was but I just felt something and then I heard this beeping and I just knew she was my soulmate…”

“Don’t give me that anime soulmate crap! You cannot know someone is your soulmate because you heard a noise.” Ha-na groaned. “That’s not how it works, especially when it was probably just the fucking microwave. That’s not a sign from the universe to cheat on your girlfriend, Kook!” Jungkook swallowed hard, not knowing how he should explain himself or his feelings - they would never understand that he just knew she was the one. That looking into her eyes, made him feel something he had never felt before. “I know and I did try to fight it and not act on it but it got harder and harder every day because she started coming over a lot.” “You never really spoke to her that much, I know that because she asked Tae if you didn’t like her.” Ha-na’s index finger was tapping her chin as she combed back through her memories. “What did he say? Did he suspect anything?” Ha-na shook her head looking at Jimin. “He reassured her that Jungkook would just need time to warm up to her. Tae still has no idea what they are doing behind his - all of our backs.” “It’ll break his heart when he finds out…” Jimin trailed off but so did Jungkook’s thoughts. Y/n had been worried that he did not like her all those months ago? He knew now that she had sensed the same spark he felt when their eyes met but his conscience had tried so hard not to cave in; he had been strong for a while but eventually he gave in to temptation. Maybe he had been too busy fighting a war with his inner demons to notice that she had liked him too until that one night that set everything in motion... He had snatched his favorite spot on the big sofa, between Jin and Hoseok, where he could steal glances at her without anyone noticing. He would never be able to understand how anyone could look so effortlessly beautiful in just leggings and a t-shirt but she did and it made it hard for him to take his eyes off her but whenever she moved her head he looked away; afraid she would be able to see in eyes how he felt. “I’m going to make us more popcorn.” Her voice was so sweet; all he wanted was to listen to her forever. “Can you bring some jellies too?” Taehyung mumbled while handing her the empty popcorn bowl. “Sure.” She ruffled his hair, making his stomach churn - Taehyung posed no threat, he was in love with Ha-na but Jungkook would have given everything he owned for her to show him the same affection she showed her best friend. Watching her walk to the kitchen; he finally focused on the movie but he had no idea what happened when he had paid no attention to it for the last fifteen minutes. “Why’s he doing that?” He leaned over to Jin, hoping his eldest brother would fill in the gaps of the plot he was missing. “He is just looking for clues to find out what’s happening to his daughter.” Jin didn’t even look at him, eyes quickly scanning the subtitles on the tv to not miss a thing. Jungkook pursed his lips, sinking back into the cushions with a groan. He could feel himself getting bored; it was torture to know she was here but he wasn’t able to look at her when all he was allowed to do was stare at her face for the remainder of his days.  “What’s taking y/n so long?” Taehyung sat up, peeking over the couch towards the kitchen. “I’ll go check, I wanted to get some water anyway.” He jumped at the opportunity to be in the same room with her, although he never managed to muster up the courage to actually speak to her when they were alone. Too scared that his heart might betray him and force him to just confess that she was all he could think about. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Jungkook couldn’t help but smile; she was on her tiptoes trying to reach the bag of Tae’s favorite jelly candy on the top shelf of the cupboard while the popcorn maker was heating up. His eyes darted to the small exposed part of her back where her shirt had ridden up from stretching her arm making his tongue run along the inside of his cheek. Her skin looked so soft, the urge to just run his hands over it stirred up in his chest. Sucking in his breath as a tingling feeling shot down his core, making his dick twitch excitedly in the confinements of his sweatpants. “Do you need help, noona?” He asked, trying to sound casual as he walked up behind her. “Oh, Kookie! Yes, please. I can’t reach the candy.” She didn’t back away when he leaned closer to grab the plastic bag.  Still, on her toes, he felt his semi-hard dick press against her butt. He wanted to curse himself; now she would think he was a pervert shamelessly pressing his member against her. Preparing himself mentally for her to turn around and slap him, he closed his eyes waiting for the inevitable blow that never came. She didn’t move, she was holding still - her perfume clouding his senses; making him feel light-headed. He wasn’t sure if he imagined it or if she actually leaned back against him, her body so close to his that he didn’t dare to move even an inch. Yet a little voice was screaming in his head to just rub up against her, getting the friction he wanted so badly.

“Jungkook-ah the jellies.” She sounded flustered as her hands held on tightly to the shelf, turning her knuckles white from the pressure. “Oh yes, sorry.” He shakily exhaled, his fingers fished the small bag off the shelf when she turned around, still trapped between his body and cupboard. Both of their cheeks tinted in a pinkish hue, his eyes followed hers as they rested on the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. The uncomfortable silence drowned everything out as he watched her lick her lips, eyes still fixated on his crotch when suddenly the loud plopping of the popcorn maker made them move away from each other. He didn’t know what to say to her or if he should say anything at all; embarrassment flooding his mind that he wasn’t able to control himself. “I’ll go give Taehyung his jellies.” “Jungkook, hey.” Jimin waved his hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening?” Startled by the sudden movements of his brother, he flinched. “Sorry…” “When did it all start?” His older brother repeated the question, but he had a difficult time focusing, every memory in his head started to blur and fade away as he tried to remember anything that had happened. He didn’t want to tell them what he did with y/n or when. Guilt and shame crashing down on him for committing the ultimate betrayal towards the girl that loved him with her whole heart and that he had stopped loving months ago. “I-…when we had our last concert.” “What? When? I was there, I didn’t see anything.” Jimin wrecked his brain but the memory of that night was hazy; blaming the amount alcohol he had consumed that night. “Nobody saw…it was just me and her…” “When? At the Arena? We were all there…” Jungkook took a deep breath, closing his eyes to prepare himself. He didn't want them to know but he knew they wouldn’t stop prodding him with questions until they got answers from him. “It was when we went to that restaurant to celebrate..” He trailed off, clutching the hem of his sweatshirt tightly between his fingers. “Where? When I got there you were nowhere to be found…” Ha-na’s mouth fell open when the realization set in that the two of them must have wandered off somewhere to be alone.  “It’s a long story...”  “By all means go ahead, we have all the time in the world.” The girl crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in the chair.  Jungkook was tired but the high of performing was still fueling his body. It had been their last show of the tour in Seoul and he had exhausted himself; wanting to give the fans a night they would never forget. Y/n was sitting next to him at the table in the restaurant the staff had rented to celebrate the end of a successful tour, but she was not paying much attention to him to his dismay. She kept talking to Taehyung who sat across from her; telling him how amazing he had been on stage. Jungkook felt jealousy gnawing at his heart, a part of him had put even more effort into every single dance move, into every single note he sang to impress her but she didn’t acknowledge it. Her eyes only set on her best friend, showering him in praise and compliments. What would he have to do to get her attention - to get just one compliment? “Are you not going to drink?” Taehyung asked as the restaurant staff was serving beers and other various alcoholic drinks. “No, I have that job interview for that restaurant tomorrow. I can’t fuck it up, my brother is getting mad that I still don’t have a job.” At that moment he decided he wasn’t going to drink either, although he really wanted to as a reward for finishing the tour healthily and successfully but he also wanted to remember every moment he spent with her. Although the prospect of alcohol lending him some confidence was enticing, he just couldn’t risk making a wrong move. Ever since the incident in the kitchen three weeks ago, he had noticed small changes in her behavior. He had been so scared to even look at her in the beginning, scared that she would think he was disgusting but things had been different. One afternoon, she had watched them practice and he could have sworn that her eyes had been glued to him - eating him up, she had watched his every move - clapping loudly after he finished practicing his solo stage. Every time she walked past him, she would find a way to slightly brush against him, whether it was their arms or their hands touching. He was craving her attention and each day that passed without getting any felt like a day not worth remembering; but just one smile from her could turn his whole day upside down, setting the abundance of butterflies in motion in his stomach. “Hey, can you pass the Kimchi?” Namjoon muttered while stuffing some meat into his mouth. In unison, they both moved their hands to the small bowl to hand it to the leader; her soft fingers brushed against his, making them both pull away hastily, almost knocking over their glasses. Jungkook felt his ears getting hot as he let out a nervous chuckle, her eyes glued to her plate to avoid looking at him or anyone for that matter. “What’s with you two?” Taehyung grabbed the bowl, handing it over to the other side of the table. “Nothing.” He mumbled, and honestly, there was nothing - nothing worth mentioning that he could add to the list in his mind of all the small touches and smiles. A part of him was still unsure whether he was just wanting to believe that all those things were happening on purpose or if he just wanted it so badly that his mind tricked him into believing they were real. But there was no denying that there was something between them that was like an ominous cloud hovering above their heads ever since that one night. Maybe he was imagining it, but whenever they were close to each other, there was an electricity in the air that no one else could sense.  

Everyone was laughing and chatting loudly, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere in the room, telling tour stories and already throwing around ideas for the next one, wanting to make it even bigger and better. From the corner of his eyes, he watched her put the chopsticks down and reach for her cola lifting it to her lips; he loved her lips, they always looked so smooth and plump - perfect to steal a kiss or two. “You were really good tonight.” She said quietly, turning her head ever so slightly in his direction. His heartbeat started to pick up; if he was a puppy he would be wagging his tail like crazy at her words. “You think? Thank you.” He beamed, bowing his head a little, warmth spreading through his body as he finally was rewarded with the compliment he had longed to hear. “Yes, you know how to move your body really well.” Letting out a staggered breath, he didn’t know how to answer. Was she just complimenting his dancing or was there a hidden meaning behind her words? Adjusting her body to face him a little more; Jungkook bit down on his tongue. The mounds of her breasts peeking out of the white skintight dress, evoking the urge in him to just bury his face between them. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Thank you, I just enjoy dancing a lot.” “Hmm, I can tell.” Her finger traced the rim of her glass as she pressed her thigh against his, mentally adding this small gesture to his list. It had been an hour of him watching her across the room after the members had decided to thank the staff for their hard work and making dreams come true over the past weeks and months. Everyone was deep in conversation, downing alcohol and laughing loudly when he spotted her putting on her denim jacket. Without thinking, he quickly made his way over to her; he couldn’t let her leave just yet, it was too early - he had not spent enough time with her. “You’re not leaving, are you?” He inquired, setting down his glass on the table. “Oh no, I just wanted to get some fresh air.” “I’ll go with you.” He grabbed his jacket and followed her outside, no one noticing that they were leaving. “Do you want to walk for a bit?” He nodded, walking closely behind her as she stretched her arms out. “I love being outside this late, it’s so quiet and peaceful but it such a shame that you can’t see the stars in Seoul.” “I know, but it was the same back home…not that I remember it that much.” She turned around under a streetlight, eyeing him carefully; giving him the time to admire her features, how the smile that was playing on her lips reached her eyes first and how she so effortlessly brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Don’t you miss being with your family?” “I do but I also have a family here which makes it a lot easier but I got really homesick in the beginning.” She nodded, finally letting him catch up with her. “I noticed that all of you are really close and I’m so glad you’re taking care of each other and I’m so thankful that you’re looking after Taehyung for me.” He hummed in agreement. “Yeah, it’s great. They’re all really like brothers to me.” For a split second the backs of their hands brushed against each other. “I’m sure Tae is happy that you’re here, it’s like a piece from home, you know?” She chuckled, taking a few steps to get ahead of him again, then turning around, walking backward to look at him. “Did you hear him say it? Because he said that to me the other day.” Huffing under his breath, he tilted his head a little. “No, it’s just how I feel when I’m around y-“ His last words were drowned out by two guys yelling at them to stop from across the street, making y/n direct her attention to them as they crossed the road; both reeking of booze and smoke when they were getting closer. “What are you doing out here by yourself?” The shorter one slurred, clearly intoxicated judging by the almost empty Soju bottle in his hand. “I’m not by myself.” Both of the men eyed him from head to toe before bursting into laughter. “You’re with that big baby?” She didn’t respond, shying away from them to get some space between them. “Come get a drink with us! We’ll show you a good time.” The taller one, whose hair was styled similarly to Jimin’s, wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Jealousy pumping through his veins as the two men tried forcing her to walk with them. “No, thank you.” Crudely she pushed his arm away, ducking her head to get away from them. “Oh, so you’d rather be with the softy over there?” He sneered, shooting Jungkook a withering look that got his blood boiling. Sure, he maybe he didn’t look that manly in his big grey sweater but he could pack a punch or two if he had to. “Come on, we would be willing to share you!” The sly grin on the guy's face made something snap inside him; he grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to him. “Back off, she’s with me.” Waiting for one of them to make a snide remark or to come at him; he eyed their every move.  “Hyung, is the little mommy’s boy trying to fight us?”  Jungkook’s free hand was balled into a fist, his nails digging into the palm of his hand.  “Ah, some sluts are just not worth it. Let’s go!” They turned to leave, snickering disparagingly.  He took a step forward while she desperately tried pulling him back but he was too strong to even notice her attempt. “Kook, no.” She whispered, her fingers tightening around his hand. 

“Say that again, I dare you!” His voice was deeper than before, no one would insult her like that when he was around. “So, you really want to fight?” The shorter one turned around, crooking an eyebrow at Jungkook. Her other hand clutched the back of his jacket as he tried to take another step. “Kook-ah, no! Please.” She whined, pulling him back with much more force than before. “Listen to your girlfriend.” A breath got caught in his throat…g-girlfriend- if only she was. Jungkook’s chest was rising and falling quickly as he watched the men leave in the opposite direction. His arm was shaking when he stretched his hand; not able to fully grasp that he had been willing to fight two drunk guys for her. Unsure if he would have been able to actually go through with it if he had to; play fighting with his brothers was different from actually hitting a stranger. When she let go of his jacket it was like he came back to his senses; he bit down on the inside of his cheek. Holding her hand felt amazing; the way their fingers laced together so perfectly seemed like a match made in heaven. A nervous feeling stretched out in his chest, sweat beginning to form underneath his bangs, his hands getting clammy - now that they were alone again she would let go of his hand soon. They watched as the men entered some bar further down the street, just to make sure they weren’t going to bother them anymore. “Thank you so much, you didn’t have to stand up for me.” She smiled up at him and it was like all the anger and jealousy that had consumed him evaporated into thin air instantly. The smile on her face disappeared, her lips were slightly agape as she stared into his eyes; Jungkook felt like he was drowning in them and he didn’t care, hoping that this moment would last forever. She didn’t let go of his hand when she got on her toes, her face getting closer every time he blinked when suddenly her soft, warm lips pressed on his. He couldn’t even close his eyes to fully enjoy the feeling of his insides dancing happily when she pulled away again. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have, I know you have a girlfr-“ She stuttered, cheeks burning red and without warning, he let go of her hand to cup her face reconnecting their lips. “You kissed her back? Are you fucking serious?” Ha-na whisper yelled when the youngest finished his recollection of their first kiss, hanging his head in shame, nodding ever so slightly. “I know it was stupid but I was so happy that she liked me that I just threw caution to the wind. It was my only chance and I couldn’t pass it up.” “You have a girlfriend, you should’ve passed it up.” “Jungkook-ah, what happened then?” Jimin asked cautiously, as he sat down on the table. “We just started sneaking off to kiss whenever she was over.” Ha-na groaned. “Why didn’t you wait until you broke up with Yina?” Jungkook nervously tapped his fingers on his knee. “I don’t know, I was scared. I liked y/n so much and it’s so hard for me to say no to her. I didn’t want to hurt Yina and I knew she would be mad if I started seeing someone else right away like I just replaced her.” “And you thought that sleeping with another girl behind her back for months and falling in love with her wouldn’t be much worse than just breaking up with her right when it happened?” He gulped down the big lump in his throat, knowing that she was right but he couldn’t explain his thought process back then; he had never been good at explaining his feelings. He never wanted to hurt anyone, always wanting please the people around him. And he thought that maybe if he waited just long enough, Yina would break up with him or it would get easier, but it never did. “Listen, love is weird and falling in love with y/n is okay but you shouldn’t have strung Yina along for as long as you have.” His older brother eyed him carefully as he began pinching the denim of his jeans in between his index finger and thumb. “I know that.” He snapped, looking at both of them with wide eyes that were burning from holding back tears. “It’s disgusting and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at you the same. You’re doing the worst thing you could possibly do to Yina and you seem perfectly fine with it. Why is that? Don’t you have one ounce of decency in your body, Jungkook? You used to love her, you owe her to be honest with her and not fuck her over like that! Do you know how humiliating it must be for her? You’re fucking another girl behind her back and now we know before her. You’re just a sad little boy who has no conscience whatsoever.” “Ha-na, calm down.” Jimin rested his hand on her shoulder but she just shrugged it off. “No! He deserves to know what a shitty person he is for cheating and lying. Don’t protect him! Don’t baby him! He made that decision all on his own. He decided it would be okay if he got his dick wet somewhere else for months!” Jungkook wanted to run away; he couldn’t stand being in this room any longer. He didn’t want to listen to them list all of his mistakes and that he was a terrible person; he knew that. He had known it ever since it all started but the longer he waited the harder it had gotten. “Don’t you ever think about how bad it must be for y/n as well? You say you love her but if you did, you wouldn’t hide her.” His heart contracted painfully in his chest, getting flashbacks from the night where she had cried so much that he wasn’t her boyfriend. Quickly he wiped away the tears that were spilling from his eyes. “Oh, now he feels bad when it’s about y/n.” Ha-na rolled her eyes. “You’re playing both of them! You have to make up your goddamn mind and man up!” “Don’t you think I’ve been trying to do that? I know, I fucked up! I’m not stupid but it’s so hard and scary.” His voice was firm in the beginning but slowly got quieter until it broke, not caring about the tears rolling down his face. “I know, I’m hurting both of them but every time I try to break up with Yina…I just can’t.” His lips were trembling when he felt Jimin’s hand on his knee trying to comfort him. “I don’t want to hurt her, I don’t want to make her cry.” He blubbered, as crystalline tears dropped onto his sweater.  “You are hurting her, even more, the longer you wait!” “I know! It’s twisted but she was my first girlfriend and ending it like that…I just can’t.” Ha-na slapped her hands on her thighs before getting up. “I don’t fucking care! If you don’t break up with her by Saturday, I’m going to tell her what you’re doing!” With his pupils blown wide, he stared at the girl in front of him, sternness painted on her face as she pushed her dark bangs from her face. “Please don’t! Ha-na, I’m begging you, don’t do that.” He hid his face in his hands, choked sobs escaping his mouth. She scoffed under her breath. “She’s already suspecting something’s up with you anyway!” “What?” Panic laced his voice when he looked up, he thought, he had been good at hiding his slowly disintegrating feelings for her. “Yes, she told me you’ve been cold and distant. Jungkook, it’s only a matter of time until she finds out anyway and for your sake, you have to be the one to tell her! Don’t make it worse than it already is! Be the boyfriend she deserves one last time and break up with her because if you don’t, I swear, I’m going to tell her! I can’t stand cheaters and I’m not going to sit back and watch you cause her more pain than you already have!” Slumping back in his chair, he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. He knew she was right, he owed Yina that much; she had been his first for everything and he had to be the one to tell her, not Ha-na, not Jimin - it was his responsibility. There was no way around it, he would have to break her heart even if he didn’t want to. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll be here for you, Kookie! I know you can do it. I know you will do the right thing.” His older brother’s voice was soft, his hand giving his knee a light squeeze for encouragement. The clicking of Ha-na’s tongue made both boys look at her. “You have two days, Jungkook! Don’t forget! I don’t want any excuses!” The dark-haired boy nodded, wiping his face with the sleeve of his sweater. “I-I’ll do it. I promise.” “Don’t you dare do it over text! Be a man and look her in the eyes.” It felt like his trachea was tied in knots making it hard to breathe. How was he going to be a man when he felt like a puppy that had been kicked to the curb? His phone vibrated and he instantly pulled it from his pocket. “It’s y/n.” He whispered, looking at the picture of her on the display. “Are her whore of Babylon senses tingling?” “Ha-na, come on. Don’t be mean.” Jimin muttered, earning a sarcastic laugh from her. “You were the one who was upset that she sent him nudes.” Jungkook looked at Jimin, his face was contorted in a shocked grimace. “I know but I didn’t know how much he loved her then.” He gestured towards his little brother. “I don’t condone it but I think he knows he fucked up.” “Oh, shut up! She’s just as bad of a person as he is! She knew he had a girlfriend, yet she still made a move on him. They’re both disgusting liars.” Without thinking Jungkook jumped to his feet. “Don’t talk about y/n like that! I love her, she’s my whole world! You can yell at me all you want, but don’t be mean to her!” “Unbelievable! You two deserve each other.” Ha-na scrambled to get her laptop and headed for the door. “Break up with Yina!” For a little while, the two boys sat across each other without saying a word, both emptily staring at the floor. “You really love her, huh?” Jimin inquired, breaking the suffocating silence. Jungkook sighed. “Yes, I know I shouldn’t but it just happened. It is like I can’t function without her, she just understands me and always has my back.” He licked his lips, before sucking in a deep breath. “I know she’s hurting too because of me and I just want to make her happy.” “You’re not a bad person, despite what Ha-na said. We all make mistakes and this is just a really big one but it’s not too late to do the right thing.” “Please don’t tell the others, I don’t want them to hate me.” “I won’t, just do what Ha-na said, please.” Jimin got up to ruffle his hair. “It’s gonna suck but you have a good heart, Jungkook-ah. I know you have it in you to go through with it.” “I promise, I will.” He mumbled, watching as his older brother left the room and a staff member entered, making him get up immediately as his phone vibrated in his hand again. Sprinting out into the hallway when her name flashed on the screen. “Kookie.” She sounded worried when he lifted the phone to his ear. Simply hearing her voice relaxed him, for the past hour he had been so tense that it made him feel nauseous. “Hey.” He breathed, looking up and down the hallway to check if he was alone. “I don’t have much time, my break is almost over. How did it go? Is everything okay?” For a second, he considered not telling her, not wanting to worry her even more. “Jimin and Ha-na know about us.” Her gasp sent shivers down his spine. “What? How? Oh my god, no. We were so careful.” Her panicked tone made him feel even sicker than he already was; a small reminder of what he had to do. “Don’t worry, they won’t tell anyone.” A lie; she wouldn’t be able to get through her shift if he told her the truth.  * Yina readjusted her bag on her shoulder, trying to keep it from sliding down her arm as she was carrying the paper bag with the cookies down to the dance studio. She was well aware of the fact that her boyfriend didn’t like it when she showed up announced but the freshly baked cookies from the little French bakery left her no choice. Ha-na was right, this was just a rough patch in their relationship and surely, Jungkook would come around. Maybe she just had to work a little harder to show him that she cared. She passed by Yoongi’s studio, her ears picking up a muted beat through the closed door; making her feel better knowing that they were actually here and she wouldn’t have to waste those cookies on her coworkers. As she turned the corner, she instantly spotted Jungkook a little further down the hallway, he was on the phone pacing up and down. Normally, she would just walk up to him and wait for him to end the call but something inside her made her stop when he spoke in a hushed voice, hiding behind the protruding part of the wall that separated the ladies from the men's bathroom. “You really don’t have to worry!” He sounded nervous. “Everything’s okay.” She leaned against the wall, careful not to make any noise that would give away that she was there. But his next words made the blood in her veins freeze, a tight feeling spreading in her chest. “Okay, call me after work. I miss you too, baby.” Her eyes were tearing up as her free hand flew to her mouth, pressing harshly against her lips to stop the sob that was threatening to force its way out of her. Like a statue, she stood there, blinking furiously to hinder the tears from spilling; Jungkook’s warm laugh felt like a punch to her stomach, making her feel like she was about to throw up. “Stop it! Go back to work.” Until now, she had never even considered that this was the reason why it had felt like he had been slipping through her fingers, no matter how hard she tried to hold onto him. “I love you too, noona.” Jungkook, her Jungkook, was cheating on her; the boy who had won her heart by storm, the boy who was always so sweet and considerate, the one she loved with all her heart, was telling another girl that he loved her. 

Her manicured nails dug into her skin, trying to shift the pain she felt to a physical one that she could bear because her heart was breaking; feeling like that with every breath she took a part of it chipped away that could never be replaced. She had to get out, she couldn’t stand being here, she wanted to run as far away as possible until she couldn’t feel her legs anymore.  As she walked back towards Yoongi’s studio, she heard footsteps behind her. “Yina! Hey!” She stood still, closing her eyes making tears drip down her cheeks. Quickly she wiped them away; she had to be strong, she wasn’t going to break down, not now and she put on her best fake smile before turning around. Jungkook was walking towards her, shoving his phone into his pocket. “What are you doing here?” For the first time in months, he didn’t sound like he was unhappy to see her. “I just brought you cookies. I didn’t want to bother you, so I was just going to leave them by your studio door.” “That’s very sweet of you, thank you.” He smiled, showing just a hint of his bunny teeth as he leaned in closer, pressing his lips to her cheek. It took everything from her not to push him away; the lips that once made her fly had lost their wings. 

[min-minn]

Symphony - Chapter Five

A03

Summary: Viktor Nikiforov, tenor prodigy and top student at the Salchow Institute of Music, is looking for an accompanist.

And word around campus is that Yakov Feltsman, Head of Music and conductor of the prestigious Institute Band, is looking for new members.

Yuuri Katsuki is just looking to survive his next Piano recital

OR

The Yuri on CONCERT Music School AU that we all deserve

Pairings: Viktor Nikiforov/ Yuuri Katsuki

Rating: Teen And Up

Content Warning: Anxiety

A/N: *bows profusely* I'm so so sorry it took me this long, and I'm sorry it was a bit of a shorter chapter!

After finishing Fever I had to literally purge myself and get my mind back into this fic properly. This chapter felt like a bit of a warm up - getting ready to throw myself into the deep end that is the story to come. AND BOY AM I READY to throw myself in. I've never wanted to write something so much in my life.

AND ITS THANKS TO ALL OF YOU GREMLINS! Thank you so much for all of the support - I actually don't know how to describe how much it encourages me. Knowing there's people out there who actually want to listen to some crazy story I've dreamt up, it makes me want to wake up in the morning. I hope I can do this story justice and give you some half-decent food to keep us all satiated until YOI gets back from the war...

No music this chapter, but there'll be plenty in the next one! I'm writing it as we speak!I also hope to update this fic on a bit of a stricter schedule - After this weekend I'll be posting a new chapter (sometimes two) every Monday night PST! (Give or take because I'm at the other end of the world and Monday night is actually Tuesday evening for me~) I really want to challenge myself to write this fic as fully as I can, and I don't like keeping people waiting!

And also, of course, find me on twitter or tumblr if you have any questions. I also do art when my brain wants a break from writing which I post there, and I've met some great members of the YOI fandom already around my art and writing so I'm always open to making more! (YALL KNOW WHO YOU ARE, YOU SICKENINGLY BEAUTIFUL HUMANS)

ANYWAY LOTS OF BELATED LOVE,

- Min

Shortly after the practice session, Yuuri had completely thrown himself into his study. His anxiety was nothing new - after however many years of bathroom stalls and car parks and stage wings soaked in fear, the panic attacks were like old friends. And every time they rolled through him, passing through like a tornado and leaving him weak, his first thought was always music.

At least he had his music.

As a child, Yuuri had been blessed with plenty of time to practice. His life was easy-going in Hasetsu - school was simple, friends were simple, home was simple. If anything threw him into an anxious spin, nobody paid any mind when he would slip away quietly to his room, or sprint to Minako’s then studio to use her grand. It was a sort of therapy, he’d decided. There were probably better ways for him to find relief - ways that didn’t border on obsession - but he reasoned that if it worked, if it wasn’t hurting anyone else, then how bad could it be?

When he’d practice to calm himself, it didn’t matter what he played, so long as his fingers were moving along the keys. Sometimes it was Liszt. Sometimes Chopin. Sometimes jazz or simple accompaniment pieces. He even had a small folder of pop songs and film scores that slipped into his rotation every now and then. Phichit always loved listening to Yuuri play pieces from The King and the Skater – his ‘absolute favourite movie of all time, no exceptions’- though that usually only happened when they were drinking at home, Phichit screeching along at the top of his lungs while Yuuri stumbled his way through the chords.

Now that Yuuri was focussed on his thesis and composition, he had plenty to fill up his practice time. And so, after the disastrous practice session, blinded slightly by tears and desperate to get his hands on his keyboard, bitterly afraid of running into Viktor, he’d come home with Phichit and all but chained himself to his piano. Had run over the notes from his last session with Lilia. Practiced scales and glissandos and tremolos until his nails dug into his skin. Written pages after pages of ideas - notes erased and moved like chess pieces across the bars. Ideas scrawled in fine pencil in the margins - sometimes in English, sometimes in Japanese.

Very soon, as the days drifted past, the events of that practice session - and with it, the painful thoughts of Viktor - drowned into quiet at the back of his mind. Phichit was kind enough not to bring it up, though he was quite busy with his own practice and some latest video project he’d been commissioned to do.

Sometimes the thoughts would resurface - particularly if Yuuri spotted a flash of silver hair across the quad, or heard someone say his name in passing - but all in all, Yuuri felt he was slowly putting the whole thing behind him.

It had been a relatively productive week by the time Yuuri’s next session with Lilia rolled around. He was still slightly nervous - certain that she’d be just as cold and ruthless as their first meeting - but the edge was taken off ever so slightly since he knew, now, what to expect. He almost felt comforted, knowing with certainty that he was going to be chewed up and spat out by the diva. Kind of fitting.

He deserved it, after all.

Because that was the one constant as his mind reeled. As he tried to make sense of the strange events surrounding Viktor. As he tried to reason and brute force his way through all his emotions with some sort of logic.

He wasn’t good enough for him. Wasn’t good enough for The Institute Band. Wasn’t good enough to even be here at SIM…

“Do I have your complete attention, Mr. Katsuki?” A voice cut across his thoughts.

“Oh! Yes, Madame Baranovskaya. Of course,” he quickly straightened in the piano stool, Lilia was a constant presence behind him as she scanned his movements. He’d drifted off while playing again – working his way through the first movement of his composition piece to try and show her what he’d been working on.

“I admire your appreciation of the musicality of your piece, Mr. Katsuki, but we’re strictly working on tempo today,” she said coolly, eyes flashing as she looked down at him. Yuuri’s heart sank ever so slightly – if only he could keep his mind in check for one second perhaps he’d be worthy of Lilia’s time. But, of course, who was he kidding? He hardly had any right to be here, under her supervision, let alone at this school…

“And I do believe,” she said in an oddly soft tone, “This piece was originally intended to be played in a major key, correct?”

Yuuri blinked, furrowing his brow. Had he been playing in a minor key? He could hardly remember…

“Yes, of course” he dipped his head in embarrassment.

“Celestino did warn me about your tendency to get lost in the music,” she continued, pursing her lips as she appraised him. Her gaze never failed to set his teeth on edge. Like he was on display, completely exposed and slowly being picked apart. He swallowed as the silence dragged on, bracing himself for the inevitable reprimand.

“You can use that to your advantage, if you have someone skilled enough to record your playing,” and her voice was rather quiet. Almost as if she were speaking to herself. “You have a unique way of phrasing that would do you wonders if you were actually paying attention.”

Yuuri tried to hide the blush he could feel warming his ears at her words. Was it …meant to be some kind of compliment? He’d never heard someone speak that way about his playing before.

“I’ll see what I can do,” and her voice was back to its usual strict tone. “For now, Mr. Katsuki. Tempo.”

Their session lasted most of the afternoon, the sun dipping low as they came to a close after hours of metronome instructed exercises and Lilia’s constant reprimands and observations. It felt like Yuuri had run a mental marathon by the time she called the session to a close.

But it was a good feeling, in its own way. He knew he’d hardly have the mental energy to worry about running into Viktor on his way to the bus. To worry about what Lilia really thought of him as a student. It was like a kind of mental static – too exhausted to even bring up coherent thoughts as he slowly packed his sheet music and notes away.

Lilia offered him a few pointers for his practice at home, giving strict instructions for their next session. He bid her farewell and made his way to the door, only to be stopped by the sound of her clearing her throat.

“And, Mr. Katsuki,” she called after him. He turned back toward her and took in her severe silhouette as she stood by the grand, expression unreadable.

“Congratulations,” she said, mouth a hard line, though her eyes seemed … uncharacteristically warm.

Yuuri blinked.

“Congratulations?” he asked quietly.

Congratulations for what?

“Try not to celebrate too much this weekend,” and Yuuri all but choked as he watched Lilia … smile? It was thin, hardly reaching her eyes, but it was a smile nonetheless.

Celebrate?

What on earth—

Yuuri didn’t get the chance to question her, however, as her phone suddenly rang loudly, filling the room with a strange ringtone. Some kind of high staccato singing. She picked it up quickly and waved for him to leave, greeting whoever had called in a stoic manner.

Yuuri hurried out of the room. The whole meeting was quite strange – stranger than his first meeting that still gave him chills when he remembered how cold Lilia had been with him. Despite how exhausted he felt, he couldn’t help but gnaw on the thought in his mind;

Why had she congratulated him?

He was still worrying away at the question when he rounded the corner and came into one of the common areas. It was a large, spacious room with high ceilings – couches and coffee tables huddled in one corner with tables and chairs filling what remained. There were large expanses of wall space taken up by posters and flyers of every kind. It was the main common area at the school – the one where all of the latest news and postings always ended up. Things like simple advertisements for local concerts or gigs that students were involved in. Flyers looking for roommates or accompanists.

But there was also one wall dedicated to official postings. It was a dividing wall that cut through the room, and it was often crowded at this time of year.

Today it was positively crammed with students.

The noise was overwhelming, Yuuri finding himself flinching ever so slightly as he realised how many people he’d have to pass just to get to the exit. There was shouting and screaming, what sounded like someone practicing scales on a clarinet. There was laughter, and as the crowd came into view, Yuuri could see countless people jostling each other for space around the wall.

Yuuri distantly remembered that today was important, though he couldn’t remember why. There must be a posting – parts for the SIM Musical perhaps? Or maybe there’d been new chairs announced for the orchestra?. Yuuri knew none of it would apply to him, however. He hadn’t auditioned in years, preferring to just focus on the orchestra when he needed to. He ducked his head to make sure nobody recognised him, tucking his chin into his scarf and making his way toward the exits.

A familiar voice rang out across the din and he froze in his tracks.

“Yuuri! Yuuri, over here!”

Viktor.

Viktor’s voice.

His legs turned to water the second the realisation hit him, and he barely had the strength to turn towards the sound. He cursed his high-functioning anxiety for choosing to auto-pilot right at that moment. He wanted nothing more than to pretend he hadn’t heard him and bolt for the doors, but his body seemed to move on its own. Wooden and puppeteered by years of trying to appear normal in social situations. Not to mention the uncomfortable flip his heart did in his chest that took control of his pulse quickly.

He turned to see Viktor standing at the front of the crowd, shouldering his way through and making his way towards him with a beaming grin lighting up his features. It almost hurt to look at. Like staring straight into the sun.

Yuuri figured Viktor must be greeting him out of pity. He could see a few of the school’s best and brightest hanging near where Viktor was standing by the posting wall, so it was unsettling to see Viktor prying himself away from his elite friends, focussed on Yuuri instead. Christophe Giacometti, the school’s top double bassist, stood out instantly, his curly blonde hair all too visible in the sea of browns and blacks. He was one of Viktor’s closest friends, Yuuri knew, and the man seemed to be shouting something after Viktor, though his voice was lost as someone blasted a note on a trombone nearby.

“Congratulations, Yuuri!” Viktor cried, breaking free of the crowd and all but running over to him. The uneasiness of Lilia’s words returned with full force.

Congratulations for what?

“V—Viktor,” Yuuri said in a small voice by way of a greeting, though it sounded more like a question, a deep sense of dread beginning to work it’s way into his chest. He hadn’t spoken with Viktor since their last practice – hadn’t replied to the one text message he’d sent. He hadn’t even opened it, too petrified of what it might entail to even read the opening line. Viktor would surely be offended at Yuuri’s silence. It had been just over a week since their practice, after all.

“I’m so thrilled you decided to audition in the end,” Viktor said breathlessly, rearranging his shirt after being tossed around in the crowd. He stood just slightly too close, eyes bright as he watched Yuuri with all the excitement of a child.

Wait…

Audition?

“Wh—what?” Yuuri’s voice came out as a strangled squeak as he felt himself grow pale. Audition? As in—?

But before he could finish the thought, another familiar voice rang out across the room. He turned to see Phichit, red-faced and gasping for air as he all but sprinted toward Yuuri from the doors on the other side of the room, saxophone slung precariously across his shoulder, satchel bouncing against his hip as he ran.

“Yuuri my love!” He all but screamed, crashing into Yuuri with full force, crushing him in a hug. Yuuri barely had time to register Viktor clearing his throat behind him, crying out as Phichit tackled him.

“I’m so sorry! Did you find out already? Shit! I can’t believe I missed it! All that work for nothing,” and around Phichit’s senseless rambling Yuuri managed to gasp a few confused words and worm his way out of the hug.

“Phichit, what on earth is going on—?” but there was another strong grip on his shoulder that froze the words in his throat, Yuuri crying out in shock as he spun around. It was Otabek – the Otabek, from their practice session. And he was standing over him, clapping him on the back, face stoic as he nodded. The man offered a thumbs up, blinking once, not saying a word, before walking past him toward the exit. Yuuri watched him wide-eyed and more confused than ever as Otabek wandered toward a small figure with a guitar slung over his back.

Toward Yuri. The other Yuri. With blonde hair peeking out from a black hoodie, leopard print across its back. The smaller man glanced back to him with piercing eyes, waving at him in a way that seemed almost … friendly?

It was all too much. Why were they all here? Why was Yuri waving at him? Why was Viktor bouncing up and down where he stood, Phichit running his mouth like a stream?

Why was everyone so excited?

“Phichit,” Yuuri’s voice was weak, breaking ever so slightly as that same sense of dread bloomed into full-blown fear. “What's going on?”

“Huh?” Phichit glanced at him worriedly, stopping his rambling as he took in Yuuri’s expression, though he still had a ridiculously wide grin plastered on his face. “What do you mean?”

“Why is everyone congratulating me?” Yuuri whispered, eyes darting nervously between his best friend and Viktor as they stood, watching him like he was the only person in the world who didn’t know…

“Oh, Yuuri…” Phichit’s eyes grew wide, his feet shuffling as he took a tentative step closer, hand reaching out instinctively. “It’s okay, don’t—“

“What did he mean by audition, Phichit?” Yuuri said distantly, the light from the wide windows flashing off his glasses, eyes hidden.

Phichit swallowed.

“Yuuri, I need you to take deep breaths,” Phichit said slowly, two hands out now. Wary.

“What did you do?” Yuuri all but whispered, feeling his stomach threaten to drop to the floor. Surely not. Surely Phichit would never…

“Well,” Phichit swallowed again, rubbing the back of his neck and throwing Viktor a desperate look. “You know that, ah, project? The video one?”

“You didn’t,” Yuuri breathed, taking a small step backwards as his legs threatened to give way. He could fit the pieces together easily enough. The video project. An audition. All the strange secrecy and vague answers.

“I may or may not have,” and Phichit’s eyes were concerned. Fearful. But there was that typical sparkle of mischief and excitement that – in any other circumstance – would have won Yuuri over.

But this was…

“Wait, what’s going on?” Viktor asked cheerily, face slightly confused as he glanced between the two friends. He spoke like someone at ease with slotting himself into conversations, and Yuuri found himself marvelling at the social confidence, despite it all.

“Ah, I’m a terrible friend,” Phichit said with an exasperated smile. “I filmed our practice the other day and sent it to Yakov by way of an audition.”

Yuuri felt like all of the words were coming at him from a great distance – like he’d suddenly slipped into a well, sound and light having trouble reaching his senses. Audition. Practice. Yakov. Film…

“Yuuri please, hear me out,” Phichit said quickly. “I knew you’d never have the balls to audition on your own and now the hard part’s out of the way! You were accepted!”

Yuuri blinked.

“No I wasn’t,” he whispered matter-of-factly, shaking his head ever so slightly. He couldn’t have been accepted, it must have been some kind of mistake.

“But you were, Yuuri!” Viktor said with a dazzling grin, eyes bright as he reached and gripped Yuuri by the shoulders. The touch sent flames licking along Yuuri’s veins, and if it weren’t for Viktor’s strong grip, he knew he would have fallen right then and there.

“Come and see!” and he was suddenly being whisked through the crowd, bodies pressing against him tightly as Viktor reached down to hold his hand, tugging him along after him like a kite, Phichit trailing behind with a steadying hand on his back.

They made their way to the posting wall, faces crammed towards the small piece of paper pinned to the centre of the board.

It read, in a simple non-descript font:

2016 Institute Band Members

Saxophones

Alto: Phichit Chulanont

Tenor1: Guang Hong Ji

Tenor2: Leo De La Iglesia

Trumpets

1st: Jean-Jaques Leroy

2nd: Sara Crispino

3rd: Seung-gil Lee

Trombones

1st: Emil Nikola

2nd: Michele Crispino

Rhythm

Double Bass: Christophe Giacometti

Guitar: Yuri Plisetsky

Percussion: Otabek Altin

Piano: Yuuri Katsuki

Vocalists

Viktor Nikiforov

Mila Babicheva

Practice this Thursday, March 16th, 6pm sharp

- Yakov Feltsman

Yuuri felt the ground fall away beneath him.

“Yuuri? Yuuri!” Phichit managed to catch him as he fell, holding his shoulders firmly and giving them a slight shake.

Yuuri distantly registered that Viktor was still holding him by the hand…

“It can’t be real,” Yuuri whispered, attempting to steady himself. Yakov had seen him practice – had seen his lack-lustre playing with Viktor and Yuri and Otabek there to outshine him at every turn. Had seen it and …

Accepted him?

“I can assure you, it’s real,” Viktor said with a smile, and as Phichit helped Yuuri stay on his feet, Yuuri noticed that Viktor was smiling at him warmly. But his eyes were … troubled? He seemed to be searching Yuuri’s face, trying to figure something out…

“I’m … sorry,” Yuuri managed to squeeze out, heart clenching painfully as he realise that Vikor was probably disappointed. Probably angry that Yuuri had run him around. “I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble…”

And Viktor’s face fell into a mask of confusion, brows knitting together as those piercing blue eyes continued to search Yuuri’s face. Despite the raucousness of the room, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel himself getting lost in them. Reminded of their first practice session at Minako’s studio…

And Viktor seemed to be about to say something, eyes fervent as he wet his lips, but a hand on Viktor’s shoulder had him turning around before he could speak.

“Congratulations, everyone!” a lilting voice cut across the crowd. Christophe Giacometti. He was about the same height as Viktor, leaning in to offer a knowing smile to Yuuri and Phichit as he joined their little circle at the front of the crowd, pressed close together.

“It’ll be nice to finally have some … fresh meat,” and Yuuri watched on in horror as Christophe licked his lips, eyes heavy-lidded. He seemed to be directing his flirting towards Phichit, who took it in his stride easily.

“I do hope you’re gentle with me,” and he laughed, light and easy. Of course. It was all so easy for him. For everyone.

Yuuri found himself running down the list again, taking in every name and feeling his heart stutter uncomfortably in his chest when he saw his own name nestled among them. He knew them all – all accomplished musicians. All ridiculously talented. All self-assured and socially confident and…

“Let’s get a drink to celebrate!” Christophe exclaimed, wrapping an arm effortlessly around Viktor’s shoulder.

Oh.

Oh.

Yuuri took in the gesture and felt a strange twist in his gut.

“Yes!” Phichit jumped on the spot, pumping his fist and letting out another giggle of excitement. Yuuri reached for Phichit’s sleeve, tugging ever so slightly to get his attention. No. Not drinking…

Phichit seemed to notice, chewing on his lower lip and leaning in to try and speak with him in confidence.

“Come on, Yuuri,” Phichit whispered behind his hand, making eyes at him that made Yuuri feel guilty and angry and... “I know you’re freaking out right now but trust me. This will do you the world of good,” and before Yuuri could protest, Phichit suddenly creased his brow and gave him a pleading look, eyes darting back to Christophe pointedly, who was now chatting away with a few of the other members who had gathered around them.

Yuuri took the hint. Phichit had had a crush on Chris for as long as Yuuri had had a crush on Viktor. Of course, Phichit would want to take up the opportunity to go out drinking with him.

In the whirl of emotions and shock and terror that started to simmer just under Yuuri’s skin, Yuuri found himself helpless when he saw Phichit’s expression. When he turned and saw Viktor’s expression, wrapped in Chris’ arms and gazing after him…

Hopefully?

“Oh do come, Yuuri,” Viktor said gently, eyes warm, mouth set in a soft smile. “At least let me buy you a drink to apologise.”

Yuuri furrowed his brow and moved to speak; “Apologise?” But the words were lost as his voice broke and Chris let loose a loud laugh. There was another tall man with a trumpet case in hand – Jean-Jaques, Yuuri distantly recalled – talking with him. Was he coming too?

Yuuri felt like he was drowning. Everyone wanted to celebrate. All smiles and laughter and loud, loud, loud.

And between Phichit’s desperate puppy dog eyes and Viktor’s piercing blue stare, Yuuri found himself nodding, though everything screamed at him to run.

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Villainous Heroics - Chapter 2

Look, let me give you the short of it. I fell in absolute love with this AU and now I have the full story plotted out to be around eighteen chapters when fully written. I have not written this much in months. It's worth it.

Note - In the original AU designed by @corndog-patrol, Hizashi worked at a McDonald's type place, but I changed that to be a coffee shop for multiple reasons - mostly because Shota is more likely to go for coffee over actual food and because I am a writer of cliches.

                 Click here to read the work on Archive Of Our Own.

                      Click here to read the work on Fan Fiction Net.

If you found yourself enjoying this, then check out my writing commissions.

                                           ⍣ I have a Patreon! ⍣                                            ☪ I have a tip jar! ☪

Summary: Eraserhead is an underground hero who is constantly busy and doesn’t have time to be dealing with new villains - even if they aren’t all that villainous and make the night interesting.

Present Mic is the latest up-and-coming villain in the world and he has a point to prove to everyone out there - as long as he doesn’t keep getting distracted by Eraserhead.

Aizawa Shota is someone who soon learns that there is more to someone than the mask they show to the world - especially when it comes to playing heroes and villains.

Yamada Hizashi learns that there is more to heroics and villainy than he could have ever thought - especially in a world where some heroes still care about those lost in the shadows.

(Inspired and dedicated to corndog-patrol’s Villain!Mic AU on Tumblr.)

                            <<First/Last Chapter>> <<Next Chapter>>

                                                 Chapter Two

Yamada Hizashi knew well what this feeling was. He had never felt it as strong as he did now, but what else could it be? Whenever he was around him, Hizashi found his palms becoming drenched in nervous sweat, his heart tripping into overtime like the beats of an EDM song, and his words stumbling over each other in their rush to get out as quickly as possible. He had known the stirrings of this feeling when he was younger and didn’t know the world as well, but now at a comfortable thirty, he knew this was real.

Hizashi was head-over-heels in love with the hero known as Eraserhead and no one could tell him otherwise! Every waking thought seemed to be filled with that suave, mysterious, and sexy man that was always quick to put an end to the fun of ‘Present Mic.’ It was like Hizashi could think of nothing else these days.

“Oi, Yamada! Get your head out of the clouds and go be cashier!” Startling at the rough voice of his boss, Hizashi hid a pout as he shuffled over to the cash register with a long-suffering sigh. Genius was never appreciated in its own time, he supposed.

“Welcome to Lovely Coffee, how may I help you on this lovely day?” If the customer noticed how unenthusiastic he was, she didn’t comment, only ordering with a monotone voice as she stared down at her phone.

Hizashi sighed and tried to focus his thoughts on work even as they kept straying back to Eraserhead. While he had heard of the hero before his villainous debut, he had never known just how funny the man was. Eraser could kick his ass into next week, had a sharp, dry wit that most people seemed to miss, and didn’t even really seem angry whenever he ran into Present Mic - although there were a lot of insults and mocking, when Hizashi reflected on it.

Well, that just meant it was a challenge to get something else out of him! Hizashi may be a villain, but he was a realistic villain with realistic goals. That meant he wasn’t going to stop until he managed to capture Eraserhead and charm him into a date that, with a good deal of luck, would end in a kiss - maybe two!

The only real problem to his master plan, though, seemed to be the fact that none of his traps ever wanted to work. If Hizashi wasn’t stumbling into them himself, then Eraserhead was disabling them with ruthless efficiency or turning them back around on Hizashi himself. He was pretty sure the police were getting a laugh out of Present Mic being brought in with his own handcuffs stuck on him. 

“Welcome to Lovely Coffee.” Maybe the problem was that Eraserhead seemed to take him too seriously as a villain. “How may I-” Hizashi’s words tangled around a startled squeak as he finally noticed who his next customer was.

“Oi, I don’t look that bad.” The words were light and amused more than anything, but Hizashi couldn’t even respond because Eraserhead was standing right in front of him. What was the statistical probability of Eraserhead coming to the coffee shop he worked at? Low. Those odds had to be very, very low. Right, okay, Hizashi was being stared at. He just needed to act natural.

“N- No! I didn’t mean- It was just- Sorry!” Well, at least he wouldn’t be mistaken for his villain persona since his hair was down and he was wearing his regular prescription glasses with the hideous, bulky frame. He also couldn’t seem to get two words out. “How may I help you?”

The man’s eyes trailed to the board behind him and Hizashi couldn’t stop a wince at how sleep deprived he looked. He knew Eraserhead worked nights primarily, but did he ever sleep? His eyes were bloodshot and worryingly red and the bags under his eyes were the size of the sun. Maybe it had something to do with the man’s quirk? Hizashi didn’t know much about Erasure, but he had certainly heard stories considering the prefecture he lived in.

“I’ll just have a black coffee in whatever size is the largest.” Oh, jeez, Eraserhead really didn’t sleep any, huh? He also didn’t seem to have any sense of taste whatsoever if he was asking for black coffee.

“Of course. No problem.” Grabbing a cup, Hizashi glanced behind the man. While there was no one behind him waiting to make him do this, this was still a great opportunity. “What’s the name for the order?”

“Aizawa.” Scribbling the name out with a marker, Hizashi tried to hide his success. While he didn’t know the man’s first name, now he knew that Eraserhead’s name was Aizawa. It… was a good name. Giving his name also proved that he didn’t know who Hizashi really was. “Can I add espresso shots?”

“Oh- Yeah! Definitely.” Really, Hizashi supposed that was unsurprising. The man looked like the walking dead. Hizashi hoped that the other would be able to take a nap, soon. “How many-”

“Six.” Eraserhead - Aizawa - looked him dead in the eyes and didn’t even blink at Hizashi’s expression - which was pure and utter terror.

“S… Six? You, um, you do know-”

“I know.” Right. Okay. Sure.

“Of course, sir. I’ll get right on that.”

While Hizashi would have been delighted to use this opportunity to get more information out of the man, he’d wait until next time they met as hero and villain. Right now, he was a poor barista who was behind on his rent, and Aizawa was a sleep deprived man who had ordered six shots of espresso in his black coffee. Hizashi was only mortal.

                                                                ::

A few nights later proved to be his next fated run in with what would one day be his star-crossed lover. Hizashi had done his research this time, though, and had been ready for every possibility - except for the manufacturer of his latest trap to be a pile of shit.

Caught up in Eraserhead’s scarf and thoroughly unable to move, Hizashi tried not to thank the man for punching him – he at least took some solace in the fact that his brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t completely broken. He also had some solace in the fact that before Eraserhead had shown up, he had dealt with a couple of gang members that were known for beating up teenagers who wouldn’t join them.

“You’re a horrible villain.” The two were face to face and Eraser looked honestly flustered, trying to catch his breath as he pushed his goggles up to rest on his forehead. Hizashi supposed he had put up a bit of a fight, this time, where he was still high off adrenaline from his first fight and the fact Eraserhead had joined him when the gang had started getting a little too pissed.  

“Does that make me a good hero?” The question slipped out before he could stop it, and he almost wished he could take it back as soon as it was out - almost. He was too curious as to how the man would respond to really want to take it back.

“No. It makes you a nuisance.” Ah, well. Hizashi could at least say he was expecting something like that - of course he was. Him? A hero? It was the funniest joke he had ever heard. A part of him that had never quite let go of that dream, though, felt utterly crushed. He quickly hid it with a wide smile.

“Ouch! You wound me, Eraserhead!” It hurt - reminders like that always hurt - but, well, the show must go on.

“I wish,” Eraser muttered, kicking at Hizashi’s heels to get him moving. Hizashi dodged the kick as he started walking, frowning at the man as he did so.

“Hey, hey, these are some high-class leather boots, you know. Do you know much time and money boots like this cost?” Dodging another kick, Hizashi decided that for as in love as he was, Eraserhead was still a little shit. “C’mon, I helped beat up some known thugs, can’t you take it easy on me?”

“You also started a bar fight earlier and threw three people out a window.” Staring for a long moment, Hizashi finally shook his head with a frown.

“I thought it was four?” He could have sworn it was four… Oh, right. “Ah, right, the fourth one was me.”

“Mm. You also robbed a thrift shop.” The look Eraserhead gave him was full of judgement. “There was a jewelry shop right next door, you know.”

“Yeah, but good people work there. The owner of the thrift shop isn’t. He’s a dick who says he’ll sell you back something at the price he gave to you for it, and instead he jacks up the price by almost ten thousand yen.”

“Is that why all his papers and receipts were on fire when I got there.” Was that amusement? Hizashi swore that was some amusement in Eraser’s tone. “That’s illegal, you know.”

“Well, I am a villain.”

Not even an hour later and Hizashi was being handed over to the police in the area, waving at Eraserhead as he was cornered with some paperwork. “Good night, Eraser. I’ll see you next time!”

“Please don’t.” There was what could have almost been a smile on the man’s face as Hizashi let himself be pushed and pulled towards his usual holding cell, the officer guiding him shaking her head.

“You know, if you need help, there are places you can get it - programs and opportunities that you could take part of.”

“Mm, no, I’m good.”

While a few of the cops, like Shelly, were sweet and genuinely concerned about those who deserved it, some of them were utter assholes who were villains in their own right. Hizashi made sure to remember who those were and let them know just how ‘annoying’ he could be when they were on duty.

The ‘regulars’ in the holding cell were much the same way. Some of them were nastier than any villain could be, but a good deal of them were just people down on their luck or in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“How’s your love affair with that hero of yours, Mic?” Swooning into the cell as soon as he was uncuffed, Hizashi clutched his heart and collapsed onto an uncomfortable metal bench.

“I’ll never recover, Lydia, I swear it. Eraserhead is my true love and soulmate and I’ll never be able to do without him again.” The woman snorted and laughed, tired expression leaving in favor of an honest smile.

“You’ll get him. Soulmates always find a way to make it work, after all, yeah?” As Lydia talked, she shifted to hide a younger girl behind her better, Hizashi frowning at the action. “Hm? Oh, Lucy. It’s her first night. Not a good one, either.”

The girl, Lucy, looked to just barely be in her twenties with a shirt a size too small and shoulders and midriff uncovered and bare to the world. Hizashi could easily see why the two were pressed into a corner of the cell, Lydia’s gaze sharp and angry on any man that got too close or let his gaze linger for too long.

“Let me tell you about bad nights,” Hizashi groaned, pitching his voice higher and aiming for dramatic as he stood up with a stretch, fighting with his jacket before getting it off. “I almost thanked him for punching me.”

“You are a wreck, aren’t you?” Lydia stared at the jacket as Hizashi held it out, only taking it when Hizashi gave a smile. “A sweet one, though.”

“Oi, oi, there’s no such thing as a sweet villain!” As soon as the jacket was around Lucy’s shoulders, the girl lost some of her tension, looking at him with a slow smile. “You’ll vouch for me, right, Lucy? I’m the meanest villain on these streets!”

“The absolute worst,” Lucy nodded, voice quiet and small as she slid her arms through the jacket and tucked it around her.

“See, Lydia? You worry so much and yet Lucy here is going to be stronger than me.” The two girls looked at him and Lydia finally gave a sad smile, shaking her head.

“Baby, what are you doing playing villain?”

Before he could answer, there was a tapping against the side of the bars, drawing their attention. “Alright, Present Mic, get over here and make your phone call.”

“Finally! Here I thought you guys were ignoring me, too!” Hizashi pouted and hid his unease at Lydia’s question as he bounced over to accept the burner flip phone, dialing up the number of his boss. “How long am I here for, this time?”

“Two days, at least.” Shelly crossed her arms, looking like a disapproving mother. “More if the owner of the bar and thrift shop press charges.”

“They won’t.” Probably. Shaking his head, Hizashi chatted an excuse as a message that his boss would hear tomorrow morning. Hopefully the man didn’t fire him, but a suddenly out-of-town trip to see his dying grandmother was probably a good enough reason to miss – besides, Jamie could use the extra hours he would be giving up.

Two days would at least give him enough time to think over his latest run-in with Eraserhead and the words that were now stuck running through his head.

You’re a horrible villain.

Baby, what are you doing playing villain?

Such a villainous quirk… Who would ever make you a hero?

Ah, well… He was doing this for more reasons than just ‘playing villain.’ Besides, if he had to be a villain, the least he could do was have a little fun with it.

[sweet-little-bird-fanfic]

YOUNG K - Pure Desire

Masterlist & Chapters: Check my bio for the masterlist link. Idk why but posts with links don't show up on the tumblr's search feature anymore. So, I'll leave the link to my master list there, where you can find the other chapters easily. I hope this is still functional for you guys, sorry for the trouble. I hope you can still enjoy my work despite the technical issues.

Summary: A young writer that’s struggling with her work until she crosses paths with an intense and fated new type of inspiration; An inspiration called: YOUNG K!

Genre: Fanfic; Romance; Smut (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

Warnings: Swearing? 

Chapter 2- Game Threat

Violet

When I woke up, I felt like I was dying. My head hurt, my eyes were barely open and my body was moving in slow motion. I looked around outside my room and found the house really quiet, I assumed my brothers were still deep asleep so I walked downstairs to the kitchen as silently as possible.

I made myself a cup of tea and sat on the counter as I drank it. I saw the plastic bags of socks and sweets I bought yesterday on the kitchen table and choked in a laugh. I didn't even remember how I got home last night, but that would eventually come back to me. My brain just needed some time to process, so no worries!

As I enjoyed my early warm drink, I heard people chatting from outside the house. I tried to look out the window but (big bro) Kim Jii's car was blocking the view, which probably meant the boys ordered some breakfast out and went to collect it.

- How dare you bring a delicious breakfast home, when I have a hangover?! - I said as they walked into the kitchen, but for my surprise, I didn't only see my brothers.

I saw DAY6.

- Oh! DAY6! - I looked at my big brother - You're working this early?

- Some people say our brain erases the painfully embarrassing moments. - Kim Jii said with a mocking face and an accusatory voice - Were you that traumatized last night?

- Nah, just too drunk. Sorry! - I laughed as I got off the counter and bowed to DAY6 - It's a pleasure to meet you.

I looked at them and accidentally locked eyes with Young K for more than I should've had. I could feel my heart skip a beat and looked away as fast as my brain processed. "God, are you having a fangirling attack? Get hold of yourself!"

- You've met them yesterday. - Kim Jii said whilst enjoying the situation.

- Noona, you don't remember? - Kim Joon (baby bro) asked somehow awkwardly.

My face started to feel extremely hot even before I remembered what happened. Before I looked in his direction, my body could sense his eyes burning my skin. But It was when our eyes met once again, that everything came back to me and the image, sensation and reality of the hug from last night hit my body like a truck. As Young K looked into my eyes, it was as if I was still holding him tight between my arms, as if I could still feel his warm and tough arms around me for just a mere second. And even though his luscious smell was now just a memory, it was as if it was still invading my senses at that moment.

- It has something to do with Young K, doesn't it? - I said trying to pretend I still couldn't remember - Did I give you weird socks too? I'm so generous!

- No. You gave me a hug, actually. - Young K stated the facts bluntly, with no hesitation and without releasing me from his intense glance, as a playful smile appeared on his charming face.

I felt my knees getting weaker with the smiley view and I desperately tried to search for a solution to get away from this situation. Unfortunately, I had an incredible talent to be a philosopher:

- The universe wanted me to give you a hug. And the drunk me is even more generous than I thought. So feel blessed! - I said as I gesticulated some weird movements with my hands - I deeply apologise for my behaviour last night, but I'll now have to retire and take a shower. It was a pleasure to meet you all! - I said as I run away from the kitchen and left them behind as fast as I could.

I rushed upstairs to my room, as I locked the door I slid against it and sat on the floor in disbelieve. How could I have done something like that? No! How could I have forgotten about it, even if it was just for just a few minutes? The sensation of touching him and being touched by him was rushing through my body, and my face was so hot that I was afraid it could actually explode from the embarrassment. I shook my head trying to get the memory out of my mind and stood up to notice that I was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

I told myself that I shouldn't look in the mirror, that it would only make me feel worst but I couldn't fight it. When I stared at my reflection, I didn't look terrible, I was a disgrace: my hair was a mess, my lips were dry, my eyes were swollen and my dark circles were as big as a hippopotamus butt.

- No, no, no, no! Why is this happening to me? - I held my face in my hands - I can't believe they saw me like this! Especially, after the drunk hug thing!

After admiring my morbid appearance and trying to convince myself that what happened last night wasn't something that bad, I picked some clothes from my closet and placed them on my bed. I needed a shower to wash my soul and to let go of all the shame that was hunting me. So, I grabbed my skin lotion from the shelf and headed to the bathroom. I made sure to lock the door to avoid any more dramatic situations.

I didn't take a really long shower, but the hot water running through my body made me relaxed enough. The more I tried to forget about the hug, the more I thought about it! But what was done was done and I didn't plan to look like I did something wrong, I had to be strong and to find a way to hide my guilt.

Maybe I wouldn't even see him again, maybe they would be gone by the time I was all dressed up. "Yes, that's it. They'll be gone already!" I thought relived for a second, but then my stomach twisted in terror when I looked around and didn't see my clothes in the bathroom. I must have had left them on my bed and now I was stuck in a tiny towel! I couldn't go out like this, what if anyone saw me? "No, it's fine. They're gone!" But what if I dropped the towel on my way to the bedroom and someone saw? "They're gone. They went to work! Yeah."

I was lost in fake positivism and bad possibilities. I placed my ear against the door and tried to listen to any sign of life outside the bathroom. I called out to my little brother, but I got no answer and so, since I couldn't hear anything, I unlocked the door and peeked outside. "All clear!" I thought to myself as I walked out and looked at the stairs to make sure no one was coming. But, when I looked forward and was about to feel relieved, I bumped into someone and panicked. With the sudden impact, I let go of a weird noise as my towel got loose and was about to fall. But that's when he pulled me against him as he placed his hands on my back and stopped it from tumbling down.

- Is something wrong, why did you scream? - Young K asked.

My legs were trembling and I didn't even have to face him to know it was Young K. His scent invaded and petrified me, his hands set my back on fire and even though I was feeling hot, I shivered with the feeling of his breath against my ear when he spoke:

- I stopped it from falling, am I supposed to grab your towel too? - He smiled and laughed slightly when he didn't get a reply or a reaction from me - This is not only hard for you, you know?

I finally looked into his eyes and blinked sceptic to his choice of words and attitude. "Big mistake!"

When our eyes met, I could feel myself melting into his deep brown eyes filled with excitement and thirst.

- Can you close your eyes? - I begged - Just in case...

- Sure. - He said biting his tongue.

I looked down and grabbed my towel with my hand to make sure it wouldn't fall when he would let go of me. And as I looked up, my cheeks started to burn even more than where his hand were touching, he was staring at me the whole time! What if the towel had fallen?!

- Sorry, I had to check if the universe wanted me to see you naked. - He copied me and left with a naughty smile spreading on his lips.

I hurried to my bedroom and saw him getting into the games' room from the corner of my eye. I shut the door abruptly and kicked my bed unnecessarily just to end up hurting my little finger. As I dressed my forgotten clothes and brushed my hair quickly, I could hear my brothers and the famous boys speaking ridiculously loud behind the few walls that separated us.

I didn't even know why they were all there, but I couldn't even care about it. Because Young K's words kept echoing in my mind and I could feel myself about to explode. How could he speak to a stranger like that? He didn't seem to be a womanizer, so why was he messing around with me?

- You hugged him... and showed up in front of him wearing a towel. - I said to myself - But still! It doesn't make sense!

I struggled before leaving the room, but finally found the courage to face them (him). I was going to apologise and understand what was going on in my own house.

- I'm sorry to disturb you, but can someone explain to me why you're here? - I asked as I walked in the games' room and saw some mattresses and blankets everywhere.

The games' room is the place my brothers conquered as their territory and it usually just had a sofa, a big television, ps4 and all types of games there is. But for some reason, it was looking like a camping zone. I looked at Kim Jii (big bro) in confusion and waited for my answer.

- I messed up... and I had to bring work home. - He said as if he was talking about adopting a stray dog from the streets.

- Care to be a little more precise, please? - I said as I patiently sat on the sofa.

Kim Jii looked like a child asking for one more piece of chocolate as he proceeded to explain the situation, whilst all members of DAY6 looked at me in expectation, except for Young K, that had a curious look on his face.

It seemed that Kim Jii was in charge of getting a place for the band, but unexpectedly and even though the contract and all the papers were ready, the house remodel wasn't. There were still some works to be done in the kitchen and bathrooms. And because my brother mixed up some dates, the talented boys left the old previous house before the new one was ready.

- I get it. So they spent the night over because you couldn't find a better solution in such a short notice.

- Yes, but... - Kim Jii was interrupted by Jae.

- Actually, we have to stay for more than one night.

- Don't say it like that! - Wonpil said as he gently touched Jae's arm.

- It's because your brother will get in trouble if he has to find another place for us. - Sungjin spoke politely - His mistake will be noticed and he might...

- Seriously, working with celebrities must be so scary! - I said honestly - I know the house is mine, but I consider it ours. You can have as many guests as you want, Kim Jii. But I have one condition!

All of them looked a bit nervous as they didn't know what to expect. It's not like I would ask them to pay rent and even if I did, they could probably afford it better than anyone else I knew.

- Can we start over and forget all the incidents that happened? - I looked directly to Young K as I spoke, I could hear affirmative responses from everyone else but that wasn't what I really needed.

- I don't feel like it. - Young K replied with a provoking smile.

- Oh, come on! - Dowoon and Wonpil said in unison.

- She was drunk and already said sorry. It was just a hug! - Jae defended me.

- But there's nothing to be sorry about, really. - He laughed - I didn't mind any of it, nor regret it!

- Shhh... see he's fine with your hug, he'll keep it as a souvenir and the rest of us will forget about anything you want. - Jae spoke friendly and made me feel a bit better.

I smiled and even made some jokes to try to make things look normal, but I could feel his eyes provoking my self-control. It was going to be an interesting month.

***

After everyone left the house, I had the opportunity to try to put myself together. It wasn't working really well, so I was trying to distract myself whilst cleaning and organising the games' room and arrange it to be comfortable as much as possible, so 5 pretty boys could sleep in there for a month.

That room was ridiculously spacious and the few pieces of furniture that used to adorned it, made it look even bigger (now it just looked like a messy big room with improvised beds everywhere). I moved all the mattresses to one side of the room and put the sofa and television on the other. I made their beds with fresh sheets and blankets, placed towels from different sizes at the end of each one of them. I was tempted to leave one with no towels, but I wouldn't know which one would Young K sleep on.

My head was starting to wander off, thinking about strong arms holding me against a hard body when my phone vibrated:

BIG BRO: U need to sell your secret, you'll get richer with this than with your books! ME: What secret? (it hurts. not funny. leave my books alone) BIG BRO: The secret of "how to conquer kpop idols"

My heart started beating really fast, was he talking about Young K? He wouldn't have told my brother what happened in the morning, right? It was an accident and I wanted to desperately stop thinking about it.

ME: What? BIG BRO: How to conquer FOUR kpop idols, to be exact! ME: wait 4... what? I'm lost BIG BRO: They keep talking about you... WAY TO GO, VIRGIN GIRL! SO WILD 😏 ME: IM NOT VIRGIN!!! What are they saying? What do you mean!?!?!??!?!?! BIG BRO: Sorry it was a typo... I meant NotVeryMuchExperienced* girl Whenever YOUNG K mocks you, Dowoon, Jae, Wonpil and Sungjin start defending you xD IT'S HILARIOUS Young K is gonna be my bias from now on ME: He can't be your bias!!!! BIG BRO: Why? Is he yours? Does that mean he's taken... Sorry I don't know how this works xD ME: THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT! WHY AREN'T YOU SIDING WITH THE ONES WHO ARE DEFENDING ME!? They're angels! I love them. I'm gonna build a statue of each one of them. BYE!!! BIG BRO: Bye, I have to go talk to my bias ME: ... didn't ask anything BIG BRO: His smile is so cute. Do you want a pic? ME: NO! I can ask google for it and MR GOOGLE WILL NEVER BETRAY ME! SO, BYE. BIG BRO: ooh this is so fun! I found a new hobby ... by the way, I just texted to ask if you could do me a favour 😇 ME: ... the answer is no. BIG BRO: I'll send you a shopping list in a bit, okay? ME: ... fine. BIG BRO: Thanks! I love you almost as much as I love Young K ME: IF I didn't know you better, I would think you were gay BIG BRO: You know damn well why I'm teasing ME: ?? BIG BRO: GOD, you're so cute sometimes ME: You're scaring me. BIG BRO: Never mind, maybe it's just my instinct playing tricks

It didn't take long until Kim Jii (big bro) sent me a shopping list. A very detailed list. I guessed all those things were for the boys, to make them feel at home.

Without realising, I spent all the afternoon shopping. When I finally got home, I left all the purchased items on the kitchen counter so they could organise them as they wished and landed on the sofa to rest for a bit. I barely had shut my eyes when I heard Kim Joon (little bro) opening the front door.

- Noona, did you eat? - He said before I let myself fall asleep for a few minutes.

When I woke up I felt warm and had a blanket covering me. As I heard voices coming from the kitchen I followed them wrapped in the heavy red cover.

All the boys were in the kitchen, the brothers and the famous ones too. They were eating some snacks that I had bought earlier. I purposely sat on a chair that I wouldn't have to face Young K.

- Did you just arrive? - I asked them with a sleepy smile.

- It's been 30 minutes. - Jae said holding his laugh whilst looking at my figure.

- Did we wake you up? - Wonpil asked kindly.

- Naah, I wasn't sleeping.

- You were snoring though. - Kim Jii (big bro) joked.

- Ah, ah! I'm gonna pray that's not true. By the way boys, I've organised some things in the house for you. The second floor's bathroom is all yours! And I tried to make the games' room look like someone could sleep in it. - I said as Young K sat next to me drinking some juice.

- Thanks. - Young K said with a sly suspicious smirk - That bathroom is for us, you don't want it?

- You can have it. - I said looking in the opposite direction.

- It's the bathroom you came from in the morning, right? - He asked laughing as I looked at him shocked.

Even though he was covering his mouth with his hand I could see the satisfaction in his eyes for teasing me and being able to provoke me as easy as that. No one seemed to notice any malicious meaning behind his words, but I could feel his blazing intentions through all my skin.

- Why are you being like this? - Sungjin asked a bit confused but at the same time amused.

- She's being considered! - Dowoon defended.

- I mean, I think she's kinda being nice to help her bother but... - Jae said playing.

- She's being nice still! - Wonpil agreed with Dowoon.

- I think she's not being nice. Her room is right next to that bathroom, maybe she's being nautg....- Jae covered Young K's mouth so he couldn't finish what he was about to say.

- She even had to give us the games' room, so shut it!

- Ahah! It's alright, I'm not good at games and I don't use that room much. I'm not being nice because of my brother, I simply want you to feel welcome and comfortable here. And I'm sure my brother will fix the house problem in no time. Plus if he gets fired, he can't pay the rent! - I said as normal as possible, trying to ignore what that teasing boy said - Well, that's me for the night. Goodnight, if you need anything bother the idiot bro.

When I stood up my arm accidentally bumped into Young K's shoulder. Since I was wrapped in a gigantic blanket I couldn't really control my movements. I looked in his direction and bowed apologetically and to my surprise, he didn't say a word. Instead, he softened the blanket by caressing my back and bowed his head slightly in response. My heart beat so fast, that I walked out of the kitchen as fast as possible in fear someone could actually be able to hear it.

I locked myself in my bedroom and hid under the pile of blankets and sheets of my bed, the time would go by and I was still wide awake. I couldn't stop thinking about a certain someone. To be honest, at the beginning it was my fault since I hugged him but now?! ... Now, it certainly wasn't. Okay, that I forgot my clothes in the morning, but he was the teasing, naughty, scandalous, disgraceful shocking big idiot here! Not me! I was innocent and I could feel my soul be shaken away by this beautiful sinful piece of heaven.

It was 2 AM and I couldn't sleep.

I got out of my blanket fortress and shivered due to the difference in temperature. I walked down to the kitchen to make some tea in hope of calming myself down and find a way to fall asleep.

As I enjoyed my hot camomile tea, my biggest and newest weakness walked in: Young K in pyjamas. His hair looked more voluminous than before, probably from rolling around in bed. And his expression was hard to read, he looked different than before. It was as if he was being careful with every move he took when our eyes met and I swear I saw him look away for a slip second nervously as he gulped. "Fuck that Adam's apple!"

- Can't sleep? - He asked avoiding my eyes.

- I was working. You? - I lied and tried to avoid my own thoughts.

- I can't sleep. - Young K said as he locked my eyes with his.

The way he looked at me made me shiver even more. The thought of being in pyjamas without a bra suddenly hit me and I abrupt and unnaturally crossed my arms over my chest to hide my hard nipples.

- So... - I said too loud - Want some tea?! It always puts me sleep.

- Sure. Please... - He said sighting and observing my crossed arms.

- Oooooo...kay - I said in the most awkward way possible to imagine.

I stood up and went to get a mug from the cabinet to serve him some tea. When I stretched my hand to get it from the second shelf, I was ridiculously nervous and I could barely think straight.

I placed the mug on the table and focused on pouring hot water in it to make his tea.

- Do you want sugar? It's next to the coffee machine.

I saw him searching for it and coming in my direction. As I dipped the tea bag in the water, I felt his body against mine and saw his hands on the kitchen table blocking me from running away. I involuntary groaned in a high pitch voice and turned around. "Big mistake!"

There was barely any space between us and his breath was cutting my lips open. To try to create some distance, I innocently placed the mug between us.

- Did you get excited whilst working? - he asked as his eyes stared down at my chest for a short moment and came back to mine with an intense, feverish burning shade.

- I'm cold! - I said as I tried to escape from his arms in vain.

He took the mug from my hands, placing it next to us as he tried to decrease the space that was still separating us. I felt my legs starting to give away as his breath started to feel warmer on my skin. I placed my hand on his large chest in the attempt to sustain myself and at the same time stopping him from coming closer. Which was useless, since he easily grabbed it and put it out of the way to slowly kiss it. He pushed himself against my body and I inevitably sat on the kitchen table trying to get away from his dominance. "A bigger mistake."

- Were you thinking about me? - he bit his lips as he stared at mine - Was that why you couldn't sleep, Violet?

My breath started to accelerate and I could feel myself losing control when he said my name. I tried to look at something that wasn't him, but Young K was glued to me and I didn't stand a chance.

- I was working.

- You're a terrible liar, Violet. - Young K said those heavy words against my ear as he spread my legs open with his bare hands through my skin and tinny pyjamas shorts, pulling me closer and biting my earlobe.

I squeezed his shoulders and tried to hide my face against his neck, trying to adjust my shorts into the right place, that were now rolled up and hardly covering much skin. As his scent violated my senses, he placed his hands on my waist and pulled me even closer to make me wrap my legs around him.

- What are you do... - I tried to ask not really sure if I'm asking myself or him, either way, he interrupted me.

- Earlier... - Young K marked within a gasping breath as he placed his right hand on my neck - You said you weren't good at games. Shall I teach you?

Masterlist & Chapters: Check my bio for the masterlist link. Idk why but posts with links don't show up on the tumblr's search feature anymore. So, I'll leave the link to my master list there, where you can find the other chapters easily. I hope this is still functional for you guys, sorry for the trouble. I hope you can still enjoy my work despite the technical issues.

A/N: Next chapter will be written in our Young K's point of view. We'll get to see what's going through his head eheh