#doesn’t mean you agree with their actions

[delulupunk]

Backwards romance tropes for the bat boys!

Some of the relationships depicted are not aspirational. Warnings for Jason’s, Tim’s and Duke’s for toxic behaviour.

Dick Grayson- Fake breakup

It’s on the front page of the papers, this was your hour of need.

Wayne son dumps partner

Dick Grayson another one bites the dust

Dick Grayson the man who just can’t seem to keep them

Mysterious new partner? Wrong just another dud for Dick Grayson

The tabloids made you both sick, that’s why he told you that the relationship had to be private.

The pair of you had reached breaking point when you’d spotted a paparazzi. You were on the other side of the World on holiday for goodness sake. You’d panicked, because how dedicated they were to snapping a picture of you with your boyfriend. The worst part was they had.

Dick had to pay a lot of money to buy that photo and make sure it never saw the light of day.

The pair of you decided to pretend to break it off, the paps never bothered you anymore and for some reason they seemed less interested in Dick too.

You both made it work though, despite everything because the break up had only been fake.

“Hey you gonna let me in?”

It felt like teenage lovers seeking behind their controlling parents backs. The relationship wasn’t forbidden by any means, it was just that if you wanted your privacy to be respected you had to hide. Which was a disgusting notion but not one you could fix.

It definitely strengthened the relationship however and there’s something so special about secrets. It sends a thrill up Dicks spine every time he sees and touches you, because he knows one silly mistake could end it. While that thought scares him, it also exhilarates him.

He’s going to do everything for you, till death does you apart.

Jason Todd- Wrong person right time

You’d been there for Jason when he’d been at his lowest point. He was fresh out of his latest break up and everyone was telling him he was too violent.

So naturally when he met you, this beauty who enabled his every single action he instantly thought you were the one.

“They say I should reconcile with Batman.” He’ll confide in you bitterly.

“Well you should do whatever you want, who are they to know what you really need.” Is your reply and it’s so similar to all the other ones you give him.

At first it was a breath of fresh air, it was like you two were puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.

But Jason’s a detective, he doesn’t like being played for the fool.

Isn’t it so convenient that you like the same sports so you can both watch it together?

Well he mentioned it once to your friend and they looked at him confused, but you lied so smoothly and sweetly.

“Well I don’t want them to know, they’ll just make fun of me.”

Right you lie to your friend of ten years, who you trust and consider to be a sibling.

Why do you agree to everything? Why are you so scared of him?

You never argue back, it’s the same monotony. Everything for you was him, the food, the clothes, the opinions. Same, same, same he’s losing his mind.

Because the girl right in front of him is so incredibly boring.

When he breaks it off, you don’t even cry. It’s not eerie, it’s not depressing and it’s certainly not as heartbreaking for you as it was for him.

Maybe he’s just a boy toy for you, but you genuinely meant something to him- even if you acted like a robot in the end.

When he sees you twos weeks afterwards, walking past your university because he can’t get the routine out of his head, he sees you.

With your latest victim.

Wow… you look nothing like yourself with bright red lipstick and a black chocker that screams goth he can tell, you’re just trying to impress and please another boy.

That boy smiles at you and Jason chuckles mirthlessly, another poor soul falling for your beautiful facade.

Tim Drake- Lovers to academic rivals

Tim had met you at school and having you with him everyday was such a treat. Hell it even seemed like the teachers were on your side with the relationship- every single class the pair of you shared the seating plan miraculously had you two together, alone.

The study dates you had were precious and the knowledge shared made you two excel to levels of intellect that neither of you thought capable. You were the dream team.

You’d both get the same scores on tests, the projects you’d both make were jaw dropping, the presentations were practiced and flawless.

It could be argued you two were the perfect couple.

Then you got two percent more than him on a quiz, he didn’t mind he really didn’t. He asked you for tips and everything was sorted. The dates still went as planned, you two ate lunch together and he walked you home.

Next he got five percent more than you on a quiz. Ok… it’s nothing to be concerned about you just had to up your game. The date wasn’t as comfortably silent as usual instead it was slightly empty, you two ate lunch together and he walked you home.

This continued you both swapping between who’s better. Conversations were awkward and stunted, you both glared at each other on occasion. You talked less. You’d spend hours agonising over projects just to beat his. He’d use his influence to make himself more popular because now that’s a competition too. So you needed to volunteer for everything in school, do it before he does so your better. Suddenly nothing else mattered, this is war.

Suddenly the dates were nonexistent, you two didn’t eat lunch together, and he didn’t walk you home.

What could you say? The love just fizzled out. To think you’d even dated him…. Everything was a competition now and you’re not a loser.

Damian Wayne- Love at last sight

There you were getting on that plane, smiling as you turned back one last time and finally Damian’s breath caught in his throat, a blush flooded his neck, and he stared.

Damian Wayne had finally fallen in love with you.

Every single moment flashed by him and suddenly all he could think about was the colour of your eyes, the shape of your body, the sound of your voice. There was only one word to describe you- perfection. The word echoed around his mind as nothing seemed to work the same.

Time was slow and silence crashed into his ears. No, no don’t go! DON’T GO. His mind screamed his mouth didn’t. Instead his lips slightly parted and you turned back walking onto your plane.

Gone forever, no longer for him. He had so many chances all those times you’d been so close and now he couldn’t even see your face. What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he fallen for you before?

Your form disappears as someone else blocks his view and pure primal rage overtakes him for a second. His hands curl into fists, how dare- It’s too late…. It’s too late.

You the love of his life had just boarded a plane with a one way ticket to the place furthest place away from him.

Love wasn’t foolish, it was just idiots who ruined it. Idiots like him.

Duke Thomas- Really nice guy who only hates you

When you were younger and running in the playground there was a boy so sweet, so kind. The teachers adored him and he’d beam back at them with a toothy grin. He had all the friends and he was adored. So pulling your hair wasn’t something you considered in character for him.

The king of the playground could do no wrong though, so no one believed you when you talked of his crimes. No one believed you now when you said he was always scowling at you until they saw it with their very own eyes.

People always assumed you had history, but you did not. Once he was assigned with you to do a project, an hour later your teacher called you back into the classroom to inform you that you had a new partner. Being such a kind soul had its benefits for Duke. Clearly you weren’t allowed such privileges.

He seemed filled to the brim with hatred for you. Once you tried confronting him and he went pale, his bones shook and you could have sworn you heard him gritting his teeth.

It was jarring to see him laugh with his friends some time later on. It didn’t make any sense to you, why did he even hate you so much? It wasn’t evening bullying. Except for the time he pulled your hair he’d had no physical manifestations of his anger. He’d never done anything online to harm you, and he allegedly never said a bad word against you.

His anger seemed to be contained in a very strong box. You guess everyone’s allowed to have someone they hate, no one’s perfect especially not Duke Thomas.

[candysunoo]

wc : 672 // highschool AU frfr

Yang Jungwon is a golden boy.

He looks at you slyly from across the room. Watching as you interact with your friends. Your laugh reverberates through the room. It fills his heart with joy just hearing it. He longs to come up and join the conversation but he simply wouldn’t know how.

Golden Boy Yang Jungwon looks at you dumbfounded when you walk up to him in the library, you voice blocked out by the sound of his raging heartbeat. He stares at you, his chest falling slowly, it’s like the world has stopped. He blushes as you call his name again before snapping out of his daze. He practically preens when you ask him for help, telling him that you know he’s the top of the class. He agrees immediately, a small yes leaving his mouth. He can’t help but feel nervous already.

Yang Jungwon waits, once again in the library, it’s after school and the quiet comforts him. He was never loud, he was reserved, the top of the class, the calm student council president who stayed with his small group of friends and never got into trouble. A golden boy, that’s what they called him.

He smiles so sweetly when you walk up to the table once again thanking him kindly. He offers you to sit and you do. Yang Jungwon could’ve sworn his heart was going to explode just by the soft way you talk to him.

“He’s so busy, are you sure he’ll even help?” You recall your conversation with your friend. “Oh course he will, he’s a nice guy busy or not. He’ll find the time.” you defend yourself. “Whatever, call me after” your friend had sighed. Now sitting in the library across from Jungwon you couldn’t help but to admire him. Yang Jungwon was shy, he was sweet and kind and the top of everything. His presence alone made your heart beat faster. He was cute. Yeah a golden boy.

Golden Boy Yang Jungwon tutored you for the next month. You’ve never seen him so relaxed. The way he is now is like a 180 from when you first met him. You think this is a side that even his friends hardly get to see. Yang Jungwon no longer quietly waits for you in the library, instead he walks up to you after your last class. He says it’s because you’ve been so late that he has to wrangle you in to get you there in time. You both know it’s not the entire truth. He doesn’t let the silence get awkward, he makes sure that there’s always something to say and if not it’s always comfortable. Did I mention he’s funny too? He makes dumb jokes because he knows you like them. Your laugh is gorgeous and the way you hit him lightly as you squeak makes his heart beat faster.

Golden Boy Yang Jungwon didn’t feel so golden when he saw you talking to his self proclaimed arch nemesis. He went out of his way to be cold, ignoring your long messages, giving you one word replies, and waiting in the library only sighing in annoyance when you showed up 30 minutes late. The silence that day was awkward.

Yang Jungwon had never felt jealousy before. He was the top of everything, why would he be jealous? So when you asked weeks later, the words leaving your lips quietly, full of sadness and disappointment in the middle of the library, he didn’t know what to say. “Is that why you’re mad at me? Because I was talking to him?” He wants to say no but he feels guilty knowing he’s made you upset. “I- I- just…” he doesn’t know what to say but the confirmation is already there, that day the silence spoke for itself.

Golden Boy Yang Jungwon gives you flowers the next week during your only tutoring session before break, an apology for his actions. A silent promise of more. Just because he was golden didn’t mean he couldn’t be green.

‼️‼️ ©️ @candysunoo 2024 DO NOT copy, repost or translate without permission ‼️‼️

[scribe-cas]

hiii!! i'm coming with an ask for the wip folder names tag!! i'm curious to hear more about "rose colored glasses" - it's such a nice title :D

OMG HI!!!

Okay, so long story short, Rose~Colored Glasses is my hyperfixation fanfiction.

I’m not sure if you’re in the Hazbin Hotel fandom, but if you know me you know I love fucked up characters.

So of course, the moment an abusive bitch walked on screen, I found myself enamored and filled with the need to pick apart their entire personality (despite them being on screen for less than three minutes total and speaking no lines. At all.) because I love psychoanalysis and frankly, traumatized and terrible people are way more fun to pick apart personality wise for me than anyone mentally healthy.

So what I did after gaining a fixation on this one specific character, going by my mindset of “you weren’t always evil. So what got you there?”, is I broke down every single thing they did that could possibly be a trauma response, located a reasonable kind of trauma for them to have, added on a few headcanons, coping mechanism and personality wise, and then proceeded to fantheorize on his backstory.

Basically, this fanfiction is me being self indulgent and giving this massively fucked up character therapy, because despite the theme of the show being redemption, people get really angry at this character specifically because he’s abusive. (Personally I think I am allowed to like him anyways because everyone else’s faves murder characters on screen during the first 5 minutes. Either all fictional crimes are bad or none of them are. If you can like the cannibal killer I can enjoy the abusive moth thank you very much). So I honestly doubt very highly that he’ll be getting an actual decent storyline, or be made out to be anything more than a one dimensional caricature that is “Angel’s abuser”, before being killed off to the delight of most of the audience. So I’m being nice to myself and exploring the nuances of his character outside of canon :>

Anyways if you’d like to read it, I’ve got like 5 chapters published on AO3 and if you’d like spoilers, I have at least 90% of an outline done and ngl most of it is a character study /lh, so feel free to let me know! I’m always happy to share :DD

[swordmaid]

lolth-sworn society beauty standards must be so crazy and strict tho…. like if the red eyes are a gift from lolth and if not every drow are born with the red eyes I just imagine you’d get ostracised if you’re born with white eyes or purple, like ur not wanted by lolth from birth so ur inherently worthless. in the same vein if you also don’t have white hair then you’re treated as an Other bc you don’t look like everyone else. and I imagine that lolth is THE very definition of their beauty standard so they aspire to look like her, and all the beauty trends and ideals are influenced from her or from her spiders and if there’s anything any feature about yourself that deviates from lolth’s standards then you’re considered as ugly and grotesque.

likewise, I’d imagine the upkeep of beauty is a sort of status symbol because if you manage to keep up with the elaborate outfits and hairstyles without worrying someone is gonna kill you with it it means that you have the luxury to be comfortable. and also the means to afford such things in the first place bc resources in the underdark are pretty limited and gems from the surface needs to be imported and id imagine they’d be more expensive bc it’s already so risky going down the underdark let alone doing trade in menzoberranzan.

like unsure if this an actual thing too but I like the hc so it’s real to Me! But I like the idea that hair is essentially a status symbol towards the drows, and they favour elaborate braids and updos that resembles a spider’s web and cocoon, and a way to punish and shame someone is to cut off their long hair. like imagine if the matriarchs wore gigantic elaborate braided hair with all these head pieces and designs to show off the status of their house and the power they themselves have, and the lesser houses’ braids are much more smaller in comparison. she would have the means to do her hair like that daily because she has designated servants and slaves attending to her needs, and she has the money to afford all sorts of accessories. and the same goes for their clothes too, since silk is a favourite amongst the drows and it’s a pretty difficult fabric to work with. I’d also imagine lace being a highly sought out fabric among them since it’s so delicate and flimsy, and it could easily snag. but the fact that you’re able to wear something fragile as lace is a power play in itself since it’s a show off your own strength and power … kind of like a taunt ?

anyway, this isn’t really going anywhere I’m just typing aloud but I’d imagine in a society where almost everyone’s colouring is similar to each other, where beauty is one of the most infamous traits they’re known to have, and where they claim that red eyes is a gift from the goddess they’re all expect to covet and worship id imagine the beauty standards there are so crazy and toxic lol

[demigodofhoolemere]

Me through most of Boom: Wow, this is a really solid dramatic episode.

Me when Moffat needlessly sprinkles in anti-faith sentiments without specifying that it’s blind faith in bad things that the Doctor doesn’t like, which makes it come off like the Doctor is just against religion generally:

[starrrbakerrr]

“Peeta’s a pacifist!!”

Yet Peeta said: “I want to die as myself(…)I don’t want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster I’m not(…)when the time comes, I’m sure I’ll kill just like everybody else. I can’t go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games.” In a world so violent, not killing anyone in the Games is an act of resistance.

Yet Peeta committed to giving one month of his earnings as victor to Rue and Thresh’s families every year for the rest of his life. He did this without consulting Effie, Haymitch, or Katniss.

Yet Peeta did not spend his training evaluation with the Gamemakers showing off his strength and skills, but painting a portrait of Rue, a victim of this system. He used art as resistance. And like Katniss, he receives the highest score as punishment and warning. After, Peeta said: “I just wanted to hold them accountable, if only for a moment…for killing that little girl.”

When Peeta asked for a ceasefire, he was being held by the Capitol. And since the book is in Katniss’s point-of-view, we have no idea what he really was thinking. And after his torture, Peeta was in no state to have an opinion. His identity had been broken down and ripped from him. But evidence shows his constant acts of resistance.

Peeta is not a pacifist.

Addition: I forgot this happened…

[no1ryomafan]

In my constant brain rotations of “why are people in the west so hard on mecha aside from the fandom can be a bit unfriendly” I think one thing I realized as much as I hate to say is how mecha is sometimes treated remind me of the constant hatred superhero stuff gets.

It’s such a weird comparison because with mecha I do not know what the root of it was-and I’d love to know why but I feel there’s either no clear answer or there is one and it’s stupid-where as for superheroes in the west while there’s still a dedicated community the mainstream audiences have become tired of them due to over-saturation, which I understand, but it’s caused such a massive dismal to the entire genre of it much like mecha.

People think superhero stories can’t have any substance because it’s all about fighting and not about the characters- yet forget the SIGNIFICANT impact they had to so much pop culture. How superhero stories were rooted within comic popularity, how superheroes inspired countless of stories, even so far as reaching japan since so much early anime was taken off of western media which birthed its own genre of superheroes. It’s no different to how mecha help started up the anime industry making it one of the most important genres to japans history, yet most people don’t know it and belittle it.

Yet in superhero story cases it’s even WORSE when people are against it yet then go to see one superhero movie because it’s animated and put it on a pedestal and don’t bother to try other superhero content even though they consumed is no different from the norm. It’s the exact same shit when people watch eva and then think all other mechas don’t compare to it, when the genre always had darker, mature and emotional elements, just only a select few decide to canter to a audience who doesn’t even accept what genre it’s from which makes it all the more frustrating to deal with.

I’m someone who’s hardly into superhero stuff even if some of it catches my eye but it sucks to see that the situation is pretty identical to how mecha is seen, that I can’t help to feel sympathetic whenever I see some comic book fans upset at the mainstream audience even if they too can be a little hostile.

[theeviltriplet-fromao3]

It is completely ridiculous that this is up for debate.

People are dying.

There shouldn’t be any question, debate or hesitation when it comes to stopping genocide. Not now. Not after what happened to so many cultures in our world’s history. We know better, we should do better. We can’t keep letting the Israeli government kill innocent civilians, people like us.

[caterpillarinacave]

Please read Proverbs 6:16-19 before saying there is nothing God hates.

Hi anon. I have, of course, like any good pastors child, read 6:16-19. “Haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a man stirs up dissension among his brothers.”

My post is in reference to common sentiments of places like the Westboro Baptist Church, which attack minorities under the sign of “god hates you”.

Notice how this list doesn’t include any of the normal “god hates __” quotes? Gays, f*gs, sluts, ect? If anything, it condemns those who speak such lines.

Besides that, it is not our place to condemn other in Jesus name. We should only be doing our best to serve our neighbors with kindness and graciousness. Anyone yelling “god hates __” is severely misguided in their faith.

Jesus is kind. Jesus forgives. Jesus loves all his creations. Jesus does not practice hate.

Have a good day, anon, I pray Jesus soothes your soul.

[sun-lit-goth]

Oh nooo confrontation 🤮 honest opinionsss 🤢

[realmothchu]

the whiplash i get from going to the stars wars fandom where characters like darth vader/anakin have always been extremely popular and well loved to marauders fandom where any character with an ounce of moral greyness is treated like the devil incarnate

[cathnospam]

Your best friend Bakugo kisses you in your sleep..

It’s weird, yeah, but he doesn’t seem to want to stop himself.

All, because of ONE kiss you both shared after graduation. Your lips were soft and sweet as cotton candy, so plush and pillowy he almost caught himself getting mad when you pulled back.

It was a simple action, you both agreed it was just something that was the heat of the moment since you both never had a first kiss, it really didn’t mean much

Or so Bakugo thought.

He nearly became secretly obsessed with your lips, the lip combos you wore he paid more attention, sometimes buying you new glosses to try and leaving them on your desk, the way they curve when you smile, he doesn’t even do eye contact that much with you anymore he just steals glances at your pretty little mouth. He hated it.

He hated how much he wanted another kiss. It was like an irking craving he was conflicted to satisfy.

He would always sleep in your dorm on weekends, wanting to relax even though some may argue he is just your little Velcro bestie. You fell asleep on his shoulder during a movie and while reaching over to grab a blanket his lips brushed against yours.

Bakugo’s movements stilled. Your lips were just as soft as they were 2 months ago. He was still obsessed, it was as if he got a taste of Heaven, and your kisses was from an angel.

So he dipped his head again with caution. Nearly holding his breath as his lips landed on yours. You didn’t wake up.

Bakugo rubbed his soft warm hand on your cheek while his became hot, mumbling on how stupid he is to do such a thing without you knowing. He had a mind to kiss you harder, maybe you’ll wake up and catch him. Slap him back into some sense because he wasn’t making any.

And he did, but you still didn’t budge.

Eventually it became a routine, he’d come over, you dose off before he does and he steals small pecks here and there while you slept beside him, he wasn’t the best kisser so he practiced. Some nights he would wake up just to kiss you again.

Pecking his lips on your cheek down to your lips and kissing you, it helped him become softer with his touches towards you as well. He liked doing it.

Eventually he will tell you, he doesn’t want to keep up this routine especially if your both aren’t in a relationship, he usually holds you tightly against him, admiring your face before he leans in.

Many mornings you wake up on his chest or buried in his neck. Grinning, kissing his cheek as he was a deep sleeper himself.

You liked all the kisses he gave you while you slept too.

[hxney-lemcn]

Kiss me Silly — Mr. Crawling, Gap, Silvair, Chopped, Hugeface, and Scarletella x gn! reader

summery: kisses with some of the Homicipher boys.

tw: slight unrequited feelings (I mean it's in the game).

wc: 1.2k (~200 per character)

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Crawling

❥Your first kiss is confusing to say the least. Mr. Crawling doesn’t know what your talking about and you try your best to explain what a kiss is and why you do it. “We touch lip” “Only someone you many like”. He doesn’t fully understand it, but you seem to like pressing your lips together, and he honestly finds himself liking it too. Any excuse to touch you is worth it in his eyes, and he finds himself wanting to do it again and again.

❥Thankfully, Mr. Crawling is a fast learner, and kisses go from sloppy to coherent quickly. Tugging at your clothes and chirping cutely in such a way you can’t say no. Kiss his lips, his forehead, cheeks, nose, he doesn’t care, he just wants your affection and you’ve open him to a whole new world.

❥Will give you kisses in return. In fact, it’s become a fifty fifty whether you get a kiss or head pats in comfort. When I say kiss I mean forehead kisses, he just finds it so comforting. If you’re really lucky he’ll pat your head and give you a kiss.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap

❥No. Sorry, but Mr. Gap isn’t a fan of any kind of affection. He barely understands the concept of liking someone! Though…you are strange. He likes messing with you, grinning devilishly every time he asks for your heart. He hasn’t had this kind of entertainment for a long time. Mr. Gap can’t deny he’s curious about those magazines you read. Why do humans do such strange things with each other?

❥After enough time, his curiosity beats his apprehension, agreeing to allow you to show ONE sign of affection. Just one though, and not for long. Tries his hardest to not back away when your face inches closer, watching you wearily as you press your lips to his. It’s weird, and uncomfortable, and his cold skin feels oddly warm. Disappears the second you pull away. 

❥Safe to say that kisses are far and few in between. Mr. Gap has a weird relationship with the sign of affection (or any). He feels awkward and doesn’t like how strange (vulnerable) it makes him feel, but on the other hand he has you try again, and he’s not sure why. Doesn’t want to dissect why (it’s cus you only do it with him and makes him feel special).

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair

❥Hahaha. He’s confused. He doesn’t understand your strange human emotions nor your fondness. You’re his test subject, and he takes some time to ponder over your offer. His scientist mindset takes over, thinks of the whole situation like a test. Sorry :/

❥Doesn’t move when you kiss him. To be fair he doesn’t know what a kiss entails, lets you take the lead. He’s confused when you pull away with a frown, your nerves clear.,,interesting. Notes the way you act in a file in his mind to go through later, your mannerisms are just the most intriguing. You have to teach him how to kiss first, he’s willing to go along with your whims as long as you don’t expect too much from the interaction.

❥Strangly, over time he finds himself expecting your affections. Cheek kisses, lip kisses, its an odd slice of domecity. He comes back from his research and you’ll greet him with a small kiss. If you forget he gets a strange hollow feeling…very strange. Will watch you until you realize he’s waiting for a greeting kiss, that nasty feeling leaving the second your warm lips land on his own. How very strange…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped

❥Looks at you weirdly. Why would you want to touch your lips to his? He doesn’t get it. Says no at first, but over time his curiosity gets the best of him. Demands that you pick him up and touch your lips together. Wants to know why you even asked. Gets a strange fluttery feeling (even though he doesn’t have a body) and finds the action oddly enticing. Demands you do it again the second you pull away, a grin stretching from ear to ear. 

❥You can only kiss him on his terms, but more often than not he’s demanding you for one. Always gets a giant dopy grin afterwards, basking in your warmth. He’s on top of the world when you shower him with affection. Leave kisses all over his face. Do it. Mr. Chopped will become a giggly mess.

❥Get’s a bit insecure that he can’t kiss you without help. He wishes he could just kiss you when he wanted instead of asking you to pick him up. But those thoughts are quickly squashed when you brighten up at seeing him, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. If he’s sleeping on the otherhand…don’t do it, no matter how cute he looks, he hate surprises, even if it’s just you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface

❥Uhm…I’m sorry to say but I’m not sure this is possible. Well, it could be if you tried hard enough. Mr. Hugeface has no idea what you’re yapping on about, you have to walk him through the steps (like bringing you close enough to his face). He’s giggling to himself as he strains to see you leaning your little head closer to his bigger one. 

❥Placing your lips to his is a difficult task when he finds himself grinning so widely at how cute you are. Can’t get enough of your kisses. Tries to kiss you back…at least he doesn’t accidentally eat you? Unfortunately, this sign of affection is a one way street, but hey! Mr. Hugeface can’t say no when you want to kiss him, it feels like little tickles.

❥Instead, Mr. Hugeface will pat your head with a finger (🙏 he tries his hardest to not squish you). Always coos at you, calling you cute over and over. Can you blame him? He’s so happy that a small little human is showing him affection! Sometimes he just wants to squish you! But he won’t…I swear, cus then he won’t be able to get any more kisses :( 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella

❥Oh boy. This guy… Won’t hesitate to do what you ask. Sure, he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about exactly or why you’d want to do such a thing, but who was he to question you? Leans down and watches you expectantly as your face inches closer, static thrumming inside his ears from excitement. Mr. Scarletella can’t deny how exciting it is to be so close to you.

❥Completely hooked the second your lips meet, his creepy grin spreading so wide it nearly breaks your kiss. I hope you’re happy, you now have a demon already at your beck and call ready to end the world if you promise him a kiss…well I guess he’d do that anyways if it made you happy. Notices that if he does things you like you kiss him more. Becomes a Pavlov’s dog situation. 

❥As boundary breaking and homicidal as Mr. Scarletella was, he won’t kiss you first. It would be wrong, you call the shots, not him, so don’t expect him to start anything. Watches you like a demonic puppy dog when he wants a kiss (all the time). Just…be a bit careful with this newfound power, Mr. Scarletella won’t take too kindly if you deny him what he wants (just a bit of a red flag…just a bit…).

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Super happy, puppy dog yandere boyfriend that’s happy to have sex with you for the first time

afab reader ; nsfw

You look so beautiful in bed, all dolled up and pretty just for him! And only for him! He’s so excited that his pants feel way too restrictive, and if he had a tail you bet it’d be wagging a mile a minute. 

He looks at your soft curves, your bashful, oh-so-cute-eyes, and the rosiness of your adorable cheeks with so much love. Because he loves you. And he really REALLY means it. And wants to show you how he really feels tonight. He was so happy that you’d agreed to go all the way with him. 

When he undresses and leans over your body, hands squeezing your hips and inner thigh, you feel him trembling with anticipation. You giggle at the sight, and he swears your voice is like an angel from above singing holy scripture into his ears. 

You unclasp your bra, throwing it to the side of the room. He imagines smothering his face between your tits until you slowly peel your laced panties out from under you, revealing a perfectly pink pussy that has him practically drooling, all sense of self restraint bursting at the seams.

He’s all over you before you can even say a word, face between your legs, boyish hands keeping a vice like grip on your thighs to keep you open as he laps and laps away until he’s satisfied. Which in the moment, he thinks he’ll never be with how good you taste. His drool gets everywhere, coating your already wet cunt with his own juices. He apologizes for the mess and eagerly goes to clean it up with his tongue, sucking on your mound like a dog gobbling over a chew toy. 

Did he already say your voice sounds like an angel? Because your moans are so immaculate he can just listen to you say his name and ONLY his name all damn day. Just you and him. Together forever and ever and ever and ever —

The thought of spending eternity with you puts him over the edge, and he practically whines for you to let him put his cock inside. 

“Please, baby? I promise I’ll make you feel good. I promise! I wanna feel you so bad. I can’t take it anymore.”

You find his begging cute, but would be a cruel woman to tell him no when he’s staring at you with such puppy-love, lust ridden eyes. When you say yes, he’s over the moon, already covering your body with sloppy kisses and thank yous, muttering promises of how he’ll make you feel oh so full, oh so good, and that he’ll take care of you forever. 

He knows you’re not a virgin but he doesn’t care. He would have loved to be your first but that doesn’t matter now, the only thing that matters is making you his right this moment and making it to where you’ll never want another man ever again, just him. 

When his cock plunges into you he moans just as loud as you, if not more. You feel his heart pounding like crazy and reach to kiss him, sending him into a frenzy of ‘I love you’s and ‘Mine, mine, MINE’. He latches onto your tits like they’re a lifeline, feeling so high with adrenaline that he almost zones out and ignores your moans. Uh-oh, can’t do that! He wants to hear every noise you’ll make for him tonight. 

He’s fucking you so fast and so good you can barely think straight, and your fucked out expression just sends him over the moon. He squeals at your adorable face and holds you tighter, biting into your neck and laughing when you gasp at his actions. He hasn’t bothered counting how many times you’ve come. He just knows it’s been more than three. 

You ask him to take you from behind, doggystyle, and he happily obliges. He fucks you deep, slamming into you as hard as he can, gripping your ass and giving one cheek a nice smack. With a pull of your hair, he’s got you on both knees pressed flush against his body. He gives you another hickey on your neck, but not before another bite. 

“Oh you’re doing so good for me baby. Just like that! Yeah. Go ahead and cum for me.” He encourages. 

Boy, does he want to come inside you so bad, make you his and mark you, but he knows how you feel about that and opts to come outside instead, all over your perfect ass. 

When he finishes, he flops into bed next to you and holds you tight, looking at you with concerned but hopeful eyes. 

“How was that?? Was it good? You won’t leave me know will you? I know I liked it, but did you? We can go another round if you want. I wanna make you—“

You hush him with a reassuring kiss on the lips. 

[girlbeyondthegrave]

THINGS I NOTICED WHILE WATCHING BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE AGAIN:

This is a very Beetlebabes-centric post, so if you don’t like the ship, please feel free to scroll away. <3

Beetlejuice cut Delores’ ring finger off, and while it was originally a fun joke in the first movie, there’s deep implications about that action when we look at it with the context of the second film. Beetlejuice attacked her after she betrayed him. Anyone would want to kill the person that poisoned them, but the fact that he took the time to find her finger and deliberately cut her ring finger off (and ONLY that finger) reflects how much that marriage meant to him. It also symbolizes that he’s effectively dissolving their marriage. He’s cut off the physical representation of their love and taken the ring, which he tries to give to Lydia hundreds of years later. He held onto that ring for centuries in hopes of finding someone he deemed worthy of it.

He calls his dynamic with Lydia a long-distance relationship, which could’ve been a throwaway joke if not for the fact that when he clearly notices how hot Janet is, he never talks to her or gropes her like he did with Barbara prior to meeting Lydia. Keaton said BJ wouldn’t be politically correct, so this isn’t to reflect the current political climate, but rather to reflect BJ’s motivations.

Beetlejuice was jobless at the start of the first movie, and in thirty years he’s built a company for his bio-exorcisms. Coupled with the picture of Lydia on his desk, it’s possible he did this to impress her. After all, she’s famous and rich now. BJ’s gotta step it up, y’know?

Probably overheard the convo between Lydia and Rory and deliberately bugged her at that time, because if he can possess the phone or whatever, he can probably use it to eavesdrop. This can be further supported by how he got rid of the influencers but kept the people that mattered to Lydia present—Delia and Astrid.

We can also assume he overheard the conversation where Lydia said that Rory loves her and that has to be enough because of the panning to a gravestone. BJ has a special fascination with graveyards, even tiny model ones. If he did overhear them, it explains why he used the truth serum on Rory. He’s testing him. He wants to see if this guy actually loves Lydia or if he’s using her, and then he gives Lydia the means to exact revenge on Rory rather than doing anything himself.

Lydia spends half the movie being strong -armed into a marriage with Rory, and in a way, it’s reminiscent of the first movie’s marriage attempt. Rory dangles their “love” in front of her like a carrot, and if she doesn’t want to be alone, she has to accept his manipulation and agree to get married. Yet she immediately offers it to Beetlejuice, only sounding annoyed rather than terrified. And the movie spends a lot of time proving that BJ has sincere motives this time around, whereas Rory doesn’t. It pushes an underlying message that if one of these guys is going to be a better choice, it’ll be BJ.

Despite Lydia having a tendency to back out of their deals, he still helps her first. He prioritizes saving Astrid even before finding his “runaway bride” again.

Casually calls Lydia the love of his life, looks so sincere when he says he’ll make her so happy. Clearly spent those 30 years planning that dream-dance sequence.

He doesn’t seem to care that Lydia’s sending him away. That coupled with the end scene illustrates how confident he is this time around. Lydia is still stuck with him, and even if he didn’t get her this time, he will eventually. But he also knows how spooked she is by marriage after being a snoop, so it’s possible that he’s just taking it slow on purpose.

In conclusion: Beetlejuice genuinely does want to be with Lydia and care about her. His feelings have evolved beyond permanent residence in the mortal world. If anything, if he still wants that, it’s so he can be by her side.

[kithtaehyung]

minted: two (explicit) | myg

title: minted: two (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: one | masterlist rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.8k help me @ god

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There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. 

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.

Yeah, you fucked up.

Fuck. 

Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—

As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change. 

What was that about?

“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”

“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline. 

“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”

You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?

The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.” 

Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.

Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.

Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!

In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”

“Shower.”

“What?”

“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.” 

“It isn’t mine.”

“I know.”

Your mouth snaps shut. 

Fuck. Yoongi’s right. 

“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.” 

When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls, 

“Not interested.” 

Oh. He’s… 

Oh. 

But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial? 

The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”

A lie. 

Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.” 

Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core. 

Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom. 

Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”

“Closet.”

Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, princess.”

You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not. 

The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room. 

Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on? 

As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here. 

The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.

Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot. 

Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light. 

At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.

The whole setup is lavish. 

Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use. 

Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld. 

Too bad you aren’t alone.

As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead. 

Uhh. 

What. 

You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—

“You good?”

Fuck!

You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.

“You ever knock?”

“No.”

“Shocker.”

He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”

“Move.”

You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”

“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.

Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.

A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin. 

You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air. 

Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done. 

Almost. 

When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing. 

Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state? 

Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly—out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.” 

Again with that little slant. 

Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life. 

“Suit yourself.”

You look up again.

But he’s already left you alone.

Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.

Why did you walk left today instead of right?

Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl. 

The blood will never wash out.

Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.

Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.

Because at least you succeeded. 

But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved? 

Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.

Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.

You chose left today.

If you had chosen right… 

Doesn’t matter. 

Your palm tingles.

Blood never really washes out.

Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.

Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.

You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.

Thank the universe.  

But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck. 

Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright. 

Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!

You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”

Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?

The duffle rests at his feet. 

Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still. 

No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut. 

How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—

Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”

“You took too long.”

“So? That doesn’t—”

“In my shower.”

Wait. What? “Oh.” 

You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.” 

“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”

“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”

“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.” 

Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel. 

Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?

Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.” 

“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”

“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.” 

You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them. 

Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.

On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer. 

Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so. 

Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside. 

A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.  

Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.

Do not engage do not engage do not engage. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your— 

“You’re really mad about that, huh.”

You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”

“There was a cup of them on your table.”

“So why didn’t you grab those instead!” 

Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”

Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You were going to.”

As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.” 

Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”

You blink at his deflection.

What was that about? What is that look for? 

Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”

“Shopping.”

“Mmhmm.” 

Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette. 

And just like that, the conversation dies. 

It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible. 

But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead. 

Your noodles.

Your noodles. 

You’re not hungry anymore. 

Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill. 

Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—

A hand. 

A robed arm. 

Your new utensils come back into view. 

But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there. 

Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes, 

“Eat.” 

Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain? 

“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.” 

“You are.” 

“Not anymore.” 

Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.” 

The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.

“Thought you of all people would hate that.” 

“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”

“Then eat.” 

“I literally can’t—” 

“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.” 

“What?” 

Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight. 

“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.” 

“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.” 

“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”

“Don’t.” 

Both of you still at your words.

And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin. 

Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.” 

You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier. 

Yoongi looks pissed as hell. 

But he hasn’t moved. 

And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again. 

You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today. 

Fuck, you wanna hurl. 

“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”

Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”

“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”

There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”

You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”

You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”

Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.

“Like I said.”

Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair. 

“It’s better in the long run.” 

Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this. 

But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.

Fucking hell, this sucks.

Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes. 

Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.  

As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too. 

Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers. 

“What were you looking for.” 

Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth. 

“Did you find it.” 

You swipe at both your eyes.

As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?” 

“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don’t have to answer you.” 

“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?” 

Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.

This man is more dangerous than you thought. 

“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”

“But I have what you want.” 

You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”

“If you stay, I’ll show you.” 

When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion. 

And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl. 

When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”

The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat. 

Good riddance.

He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure. 

But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out. 

Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home. 

Yearning pierces right through your chest. 

The elevator is right over there. 

You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.

Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No. 

Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too. 

How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase. 

Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep. 

Was that the elevator?

You cut the water off with a twist.

Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety. 

A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room. 

And your defense mechanism blares. 

But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why? 

You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too? 

Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay? 

Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.” 

Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?” 

Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”

“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.” 

Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”

“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.” 

Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes. 

“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.” 

Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms. 

There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest. 

Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs. 

“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.” 

Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.” 

Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine. 

Well. 

So much for leaving. 

You may spend more time here than you thought. 

With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call. 

Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.

Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that. 

Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now. 

It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space. 

Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere. 

As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator. 

So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”

Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”

Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”

“You’re quiet with me.”

“And even then I get you to talk.”

Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area. 

God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet. 

When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below. 

Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out. 

Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart. 

That was so long ago. 

You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time. 

“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”

You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem. 

Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.

Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm. 

But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some. 

Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter. 

Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.” 

“Do you even drink?” 

“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”

Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.

It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying. 

“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.

“This sector?” 

“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.” 

“It’s usually silent, too.” 

Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.” 

“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.” 

You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”  

He takes the offered can. “Mm.” 

That answers that.

You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.

Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present. 

The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs. 

You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day. 

“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.” 

“Why not?” 

“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?” 

“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”  

“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”

“I know.” 

Your look carries a slight pang. 

“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.” 

You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see. 

But when it’s open, you freeze. 

It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New. 

Wait. 

These patterns. 

These are il-don? 

Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless. 

You’ve never seen them like this.

“They’re some of the last in mint condition.” 

The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?” 

“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.” 

You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?” 

Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.” 

You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter. 

Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.” 

“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”

You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?” 

Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?” 

“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?” 

Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.” 

Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”

Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.” 

“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”

“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”

“We? Leave me out of this.”

“Too late.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,

“I—”

“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”

Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.

Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself. 

“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”

Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear, 

“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”

Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe. 

Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”

“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”

What.

“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”

Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…” 

With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”

Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”

“Could’ve taken another train.” 

“Stop.”

“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”

What the fuck is happening right now? 

Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.

This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.

“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.” 

Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away. 

“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose, 

“I should’ve left you for dead.” 

Wait. 

Stop. 

This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.

Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?

Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—

Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.

“Go ahead then.”

Oh, this man is psychotic.

“Be my guest.”

No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”

“If you regret it, why waste time—”

“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”

Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever. 

And it is frightening. 

All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”

“Why.”

“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—

“What’s stopping you,” he grounds out, formidable presence all-consuming. “Tell me.” 

You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”

When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist. 

But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.  

“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.” 

“Shut up—”

“But your will is weak.”

“I swear to—”

“Guess I was wrong.”

Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually. 

But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you. 

Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power? 

Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?

Quite literally, you’re the one on top.

And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk. 

He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can. 

But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.

This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it. 

And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.

With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.” 

He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged. 

Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes, 

“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”

Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,

“That’s my girl.” 

The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning. 

To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it. 

But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same. 

So you quell that monster pacing in your core. 

One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be. 

“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.” 

Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin. 

Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.” 

His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend, 

“This world has already tried enough.” 

Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again. 

As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”

You slightly turn. 

“You still want to go back?”

A pause. A nod.

His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it. 

Quite the opposite. And that scares you more. 

“If you do, you’re dead to me.”

Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else. 

But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations. 

“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,

“I know.” 

The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip. 

And you freeze. 

Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate. 

But fuck, you kinda want to. 

Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed. 

“What made you stay.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…” 

Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to. 

And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.” 

With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest, 

“What a shame.”

Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong? 

He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore. 

“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.” 

And just like that, he releases you to stand alone. 

Oh. You’re going home. 

Good.

This is good, right?

Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short. 

What was that? What was any of that? 

Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over. 

…But do you want it to be? 

Yes. 

Of course you do. 

Clouds let moonlight shine again. 

When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.

A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.

Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real. 

Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane. 

Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.

And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging. 

You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out. 

How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed? 

They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets. 

They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—

A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes. 

So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.

Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams. 

Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own. 

You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.

A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion. 

There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air. 

Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out. 

The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too? 

One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.

But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?

Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness. 

Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start. 

Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do. 

This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.

As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows. 

Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity. 

For nothing. 

All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all. 

Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal. 

What a shame, indeed.

As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.

And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder. 

Fuck everything. 

“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.” 

Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares. 

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

—

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a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going. a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist