#finally giving them some peace… all the art on my blog has been of these boys being angsty

[a-single-melon]

ID in alt text

i really like sunflower :3c basil and sunny deserve all the good things in life including each other

[undertalerainbow]

Seven human souls were what was needed to break the barrier…it has been many moons passed since the monsters have been sealed down here by those they considered friends…that betrayal has long felt with the patrons in the underground, but they still held out hope for reconciliation. Then…they took away their hope from them once again.

They decided never again. Blood for dust, soul for soul, till their debt has been fulfilled and they could free them once again.

Six humans have passed by there since, each bringing their own impact and tragedy to the underground.

One slipped through the cracks, until they were killed by the king

One banded brothers in arms, until they were turned over to the king

One killed every monster in their way, until they finally stopped and worked towards penance which then they themselves were killed when off their guard

One worked hard to provide a better life to the monsters, only to be torn apart by the very people they wanted to help

One finished that work and brought peace to the underground, only for their will to be withered down by the king and their soul taken

And the final learned of the ones before, learning of the monsters plight, what it would take to get out of here, and decided it wasn’t just, thus giving their soul to settle the score.

These children’s souls may be with the king, but their spirits linger on in the items they held so near and dear to their hearts.

Waiting, for someone to wake them up…. For them to guide them with their experience and knowledge…for the final to live.

Undertale Rainbow

Hi everyone! This is an au me and my two writing friends decided to do after playing undertale yellow and adoring clover. We saw undertale red and yellow and thought “huh what if frisk had ALL of the soul kids inside their head?” And thus Undertale Rainbow! This is going to be a prequel story to what we later will make our surface story called UnderOver, but that’s far off in the future. My friends and I have an idea of how to play out this story, but we need time to iron out the smaller details, the kids characters is mostly actualized though!

So in the meanwhile, we’ll be accepting asks/answering questions and do scenarios you’ll suggest. There are future ships in mind, but only four out of the eight characters would actually be paired together. Otherwise the others are single Pringles, or their characters are going to be in UnderOver. All the kids are 13 and most of their ships are supposed to start later in UnderOver for reference. Here’s everyone’s character sheet and a little info (sorry clover’s eyes look wonky for some reason I couldn’t fix it—)

The Underground’s sense of time flow is very different from the surface. While it’s been hundreds of years since the monsters and humans war for humans, for monsters it’s only been 30-50 thanks to resets and other barrier oddities.

The character sheet format was inspired by this creator who has lovely character designs for the kids, check them out their art is eye candy ✨

Here’s also the blogs banner in a fuller view

Thank you all so much for reading this, I’m very excited to start this and so are my friends. I hope you like our versions of the characters as you get to know them more. Cya next time! 💛💛💛

[silenceandpatiencepining]

I am dusting off my little blog here because TTPD has my mind absolutely reeling. I am really wondering if anyone else listened to this and had this feeling that the album confirmed everything that they were thinking was going on with her. I know we talk so much about reading her songs beneath the surface of muses or certain details used to craft a story, but to me, TTPD reads so strongly of her reckoning with her life in the industry. like, it's so much more than the relationships. it's the comp het, it's the religious trauma, it's the being exploited as a child star, it's deep wound of abandonment and neglect when she as a person got split off from her brand and both could not thrive, it's giving everything to this brand and career and fandom and that still never being enough. it's her codependency with the very people that exploit her. it's the fact that she is bigger than she ever imagined and none of it feels how she wanted. it's the simultaneous love and resentment she has towards her family, and relationships, and career, and yes, even her fans.

the rawness of this album, the unrefined feel, the summation poem talking about this as mania, the continuation of the cage imagery and themes of escaping to her mind/fantasy, the coping with criticism, numbing it all with alcohol, the willingness to burn it all down and disgrace her name because none of this is what she wants or at least not how she wants.

I have seen so many criticisms of the album and honestly, I understand where they are coming from, but I also think the things they criticize make the exact point of what this body of work is - something that exists for it's own sake to turn things back on the people that made her into what she is now. art created not to be acclaimed but because it demands to be expressed. it is an exorcism, an expulsion. it is something that erupted from her. and it's so meta because this fandom and the industry are voyeurs in an echo chamber so desperate to see what they want that they miss that this is about them. that is what makes it brilliant to me - it is self-indulgent and metaphorical, and complex, and so direct, but yet still masked just enough that people miss it. her entire life has become performance art. it is a play within a play. and I fear the audience has not caught on.

it feels like she is reclaiming it all. I feel like this could either be a hint at a new beginning or a signal that she has broken and this is the end. this felt like the tell-all memoir written in code that everyone else will finally understand when she really leaves this spotlight. it's the lucky one come to life. she is daydreaming about fucking it all and leaving this life behind so she can finally have some goddamn peace.

I love this album for it as art. it is so expressive. it is so heartbreaking. it's messy and nuanced, and I think it is going way the fuck over most people's heads, especially when you really dig into poetry being the theme and the specific works she references. it's only been a week and I am just starting to really dig in but talk about a fucking iceberg.

[stopisa]

hi there isa !! i hope you're doing well 'nd that this week has been kind to you (especially since you mentioned your finals coming up >< ) i am here to vv humbly request a selfship for me 'nd toji if you don't mind <333 i don't have a picrew of the two of us, but i do have some selfship art on my blog that could be a good reference ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

as for our dynamics heres a little blurp about us : Christine and Toji’s relationship is an intense yet quietly profound connection, one where their guarded personalities slowly unfold in each other’s presence. Christine’s sensitive, introspective nature draws out the rare, gentle side of Toji, who typically hides behind a stoic exterior and helps draw him out of himself whenever he seems intent on creating distance. Despite their shared aloofness, an unspoken understanding forms between them—both recognizing in the other a heart that guards itself out of necessity. Toji’s blunt pragmatism balances Christine’s perfectionist tendencies, grounding her with his steady presence and challenging her to release the pressure she places on herself as overworking is a nasty habit of hers.

Toji becomes her silent protector, allowing her to feel both safe and cared for while respecting her independence. In turn, Christine’s empathy and kindness help him heal from old wounds, creating space for a softer, more vulnerable side that only she sees. Each quiet moment, every shared glance or simple touch, carries deep meaning. Their love builds on small, genuine gestures, and Toji’s strength meets Christine’s desire for someone who lets her relax and feel truly understood. Together, they create a rare harmony—a love that brings out their truest selves and gives them both the peace and acceptance they’ve longed for.

i hope this is all okay 'nd sending you lots of love !! <333

— order up, no. 5 chrisji !

the room was dark, save for the faint orange glow of the streetlight sneaking through the blinds. toji sat on the edge of a chair, shirtless, his broad shoulders hunched forward. his hand worked methodically, wiping the blood off a blade with a rag already stained crimson. the metallic tang clung to the air, but it didn’t bother you. not anymore.

“you should’ve stayed asleep,” he said without turning around. his voice was gruff, low, but not unkind.

you stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame. the oversized shirt you’d stolen from him brushed your thighs, shifting your weight. “hard to sleep when you come back like this.”

“like what?” his lips quirked into a smirk, though his eyes didn’t follow. he kept them on the knife, as if the steel deserved his attention more than you did. “in one piece?”

“barely,” you shoot back, stepping further into the room. bare feet padding against the floor as you approached him. “you’re not invincible, toji.”

he let out a short, dark chuckle, finally setting the knife down on the table. “could’ve fooled me, baby.”

when you stopped just behind him, he stiffened. not because he didn’t want you there—no, it was because he did. your hands rest on his shoulders, soft and warm, tracing the edges of his scars. he hated how much he liked it.

“you can’t keep doing this,” you murmur, voice soft but firm, fingertips brushing over the fresh gash near his collarbone. “one day, you won’t make it back.���

toji exhaled through his nose, tilting his head just enough to glance at you. those dark green eyes of his, sharp as the blade he’d just cleaned, softened in a way they didn’t for anyone else. “this is who i am,” he said simply. “you knew that from the start.”

“i did,” you admitted, leaning down so your cheek brushes his. “but you don’t have to continue down this path anymore.”

he snorted, shaking his head. “you’re crazy, you know that? stickin’ around when you know how this ends.”

“maybe i am.” smiling against his jaw, pressing a kiss there before pulling back. “but you don’t scare me, toji. not like you think.”

that made him pause. his hand, rough and calloused, reached up to cover yours. he didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stared at the wall like he was waiting for the world to remind him why he didn’t deserve this. why he didn’t deserve you.

but the reminder didn’t come. only your touch.

“don’t say i didn’t warn you,” he muttered finally, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than he’d ever let anyone hear.

“i won’t.” you lean down again, brushing your lips against his temple. “just let me stay. please.

this was the last time toji tried to push you away.

-

hi sweetheart! tysm for all the kind words i rlly appreciate it :>> loved reading all abt ur selfship with tojiii! it was sooo soft and sweet i had to write smth to reflect that <3 hope u like it!

[bluerogueanna]

Another way I write my stories and ideas is by abusing my computer's basic notepad program. The poor thing has seen some nasty stuff, incomplete ideas and unoriginal ideas. My laptop died with a dozen or so unfinished stories. And while most of this I just write for fun, to read on my own when the WiFi is down or wathever, I have done some fairly interesting things on my computers.

Recently I also started doing some 3D models, inspired by great people here that do great low-poly stuff that resembles the 64 and 128 bit era of games I love so much. I'm still finding my own style but I love doing little 3D fellows, it's addicting. But that's a post for another day, today I just wanted to share some quick basic ideas I've been thinking about. I wanna post them here but like with the rest, I just wanna make sure they're readable. Like with my blog, I tend to ramble and go on tangents while writing my stories.

In a way, I do it for myself to give me a nice guide for when I eventually draw the characters and worlds. But wathever I end up writing or not, I always think of how it would look like for someone else if they were reading it online or on a magazine, stuff like that.

I'll share the stories in greater detail sometime next week, but here are the basic general ideas for these three stories. I'm quite proud of them and I even made tons of reference art for them. For one in particular I even made mock-ups for the protagonists as characters for a romhack/mod I'm constantly working on.

Enough rambling, I think.

The first story I wanted to share is about a "Witch" who recently moved out to a newly bought cabin by the mountains. Sorrounded by trees, wildlife and caves, the woman wanted to research nature by directly living around the beings she wanted to document and write extensive reports on. The world she lives in is full of interesting beings, magic and creatures of all sizes. She hopes to become an important figure in the world of scientific advancement and ecological preservation efforts. As soon as she has moved all her gear and notes, a corvid of some kind makes a nest within her home. She makes them her first subject and begins taking notes on the little bird's life, its diet and behaviour. She can't help but become friends with the bird as it builds a family right by her bedroom window. She expected the change in her life to lead to a peaceful and reclusive existence. But she would get more and more visits, some becoming permanent residents within her increasingly constricted home. Ever the optimist, the "Witch" takes every change as an opportunity to broaden the scope of her research. She would have the chance to closely examine life forms that not many have even seen up-close, while also dealing with sudden changes to what she imagined as a comfortable solitary life.

Next, a story about a strange cult of some sort. In an otherwise quiet and peaceful city, people have noticed strange pamphlets and signs posted all over the many public parks. Some officials call the displays vandalism, the local church calls it heresy and the public thinks it's just some sort of circus or similar performance. In truth, the papers were posted in hopes of recruiting members for a new religion, one where "the true sinners would finally face justice" and claiming to have a place where people would never feel rejected, neglected or abandoned. Where nobody would be taking advantage of their faith or their good will. A place for the people in need to enjoy a decent life. Many citizens dismiss it as some sort of mockery of their own beliefs. But nobody already religious takes it seriously enough to do anything about it. And the few who decide to find the new group to see if they were telling the truth would quickly see that not only was this new religion serious about their mission, but it already had dozens of followers from all over the country. Their devotion perplexed many who didn't understand their convictions or their methods. But anyone interested would witness true justice enacted by a deity who listened to their prayers.

Lastly, a story that touches on sensitive topics and tragedy. A mercenary who has worked her entire life to protect the hides of unsavory individuals gets tired of saving the lives of unworthy people and moves out of the city she grew up in, hoping to find different kinds of clients. On her way to a neighbouring Queendom, she bumps into a girl wearing barely anything other than a hood to cover her face and some sturdy-looking boots. The girl is on her way to a city close to the Queendom and after walking together for a while, she hires the mercenary to escort her safely to her destination. At first, the mercenary just can't understand why she asked for protection. The girl could use magic and was good with a sword. But soon it would become clear that she was being followed. Whoever she was, there were all kinds of creeps out to get her. And she notices none of them want to hurt the girl, they want to take her away alive. And because the mercenary couldn't have worse luck, whenever she did a good deed on her way to the Queendom and was about to be rewarded for her efforts, the girl's attackers would quickly scare away everyone with their violent and vulgar actions. Through her many attempted kidnappings, it was discovered she wasn't royalty, but that she had some kind of rare blood that they wanted to extract out of her. And the mercenary wanted two things out of the girl. She demanded to know what the girl really was and she wanted her to make up for all the rewards she missed out on because of the constant harrassment from her would-be abductors.

Any and all feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading!

[that-guy-sleepy-miles]

Greet The New Day

Billy cleared his throat, clicking on the camera. It took him so long to work up the courage to even pull out the camera. He'd bought one, when he'd gotten the new lair, to do blogs with, but…

"So, it's been a while." He stared at the camera, letting out a long sigh through his nose.

Jeez, Billy, get it together!

He cleared his throat again, "As you all must know, I've been inducted into the ELE for… two years now. Time sure does fly when you're… being evil."

"Whatever," he pushed his goggles up onto his forehead, like how he used to wear them, before. Before the end of the earth. "More importantly, I have something to show you. The only reason I'm picking up the camera again, really."

"My house has been invaded." He leaned into the camera, "I was on my way home after one of my most successful heists, I'm sure you all know about the recent robbery of every major bank in the US at once! Some of my best work, really, it took weeks to set up- but that's not what this is about."

"As I said, I was on my walk home-"

There was a snuffling from the door to his lab. Billy paused.

"I was using one of the main gaits of terrestrial locomotion among legged animals to get home after a most successful heist! When something hijacked my way home. It wouldn't leave me alone all the way up to my lab- the fancy new one the ELE gave me, yeah- on the note of that, some of you may know but I've perfected the laugh! The only reason you'd know is if you got to see me in person or because of videos on YouTube- which is so disrespectful, by the way! I'm doing an art when I'm doing a heist, and if you're just sitting there taking a video and not appreciating it? Like, I'm working for social change and you're on your phone!"

"But whatevs, I guess. Anyway, the laugh:"

He swallowed, taking a breath before letting out an evil cackle fitting of a member of the Evil League of Evil: "MWUH-HA-HAHA-HAHAHA!"

and then the door to his lab burst open with an excited Bark! Bark! Bark!

Billy didn't get a chance to react before he was being pushed to the side and a black, white, and brown blur was jumping up onto his table and licking his face with a big blue tongue.

"Haha- Wait! Nickel- Nickel, down-" Billy protested in vain, getting a face full of excited dog. He couldn't stop the peals of laughter as Nickel jumped into his lap to get a better vantage point. Nickel's tail was wagging so hard it knocked over the unfinished rays on his desk.

"Nickel! Down!" Billy finally managed to pry off the dog, getting a clumsy boof sound in response.

"Meet my home invader." Billy rubbed his face on his sleeve, trying to get rid of the dog spit, "He's made himself a home here, the fiend, and so I have decided to call upon my watchers to help me give him an alias! I can't be calling him his name in front of heroes, after all."

"I'll be checking my emails again after this goes up, but only for an hour. Don't waste my time."

"Peace! But, not literally." He gave the camera his lopsided peace sign around Nickel, who wagged his tail at the movement.

[romaine2424]

Daily Blog July 1, 2023

Another gorgeous day in the PNW! It really does feel like summer here now. Daughter has no Covid symptoms as of yet but is still positive. Her boyfriend is sick but only mildly. He's had it before and said last time he was out for 2 weeks and it was horrible. Fingers remained cross.

What I'm reading:

Okay, I'm in shock. I'm not reading anything at the moment besides the results for Google research I'm doing for my fic. LOL I do have a fic lined up for tonight. It will be Everybody Hates a Tourist (51K). The 2nd posting today for @hd-wireless so it's by Anon. :)

Tumblr Interesting Posts:

Today is the first day for claiming a prompt on @hd-fan-fair!

Today is the first day of posting for @hd-wireless. And oh, what an opener!!! It's Art!

Also the @hdwickedwixen has extended the deadline for pre-ordering the new Drarry Zine until July 4th!!!! So very excited to see this as I put in my order for a physical copy.

Fic Rec:

I've recced this fic before on Tumblr, but it was awhile ago and I think I might have had 20 or so followers at the time. :) So I keep saying this fic is in my top 3 and I should stop that because it's actually my favorite h/d fic. I love so many others, but this one has stuck with me since it was first posted as a gift for me back in 2008 for the first annual Creatures Fest. It could've fit right into the @lcdrarry (Lights, Camera, Drarry) fest as some of Harry's words and the title were adapted from the movie I Am Legend (2007).

We Are Legend (38K) by @vaysh11 is very far removed from standard h/d fics but holds their essence like no other. It's a dystopian AU fic, the ultimate dystopian fic, 80 years into the future. The war against Voldemort is still being fought. There's been major major losses but Flash Man carries on. Here's the summary and then I'll say a bit more: Eighty years into the future, Voldemort won. Harry Potter is a renegade wizard, Portkeying Muggles out of London to Hogwarts, last sanctuary in a Britain ruled by the Dark Lord. On a mission he encounters a powerful phoenix Animagus fighting on the Death Eaters' side. He recognises Draco Malfoy whom he thought long dead. But the differences between them are perhaps even greater than before. Enemies may become lovers, but can Harry return Draco the phoenix to humanity? And will they together be able to defeat Voldemort? This is the legend of Flash Man and the Blue Phoenix …

This fic carries a big warning of MCD. But please, oh please do not let that stop you from reading this masterpiece in writing. There's action, there's lore, there's Indian food, and birds. But most of all we have h/d in small place high above it all. Harry is our Harry. Brave and powerful but also kind. Draco is beautiful but so so hurt in the state he's in. Together they have to figure out how to end this war and for Draco finally to be at peace.

We Are Legend on AO3.

Give the author, @vaysh11, who is definitely still around lots of love. @vaysh11 continues to mod @hdowlpost...like forever. And has previously modded more hd/hp fests than you can imagine. One of those magical elves. :)

Okay, I'm off to do my writing for the night. Enjoy your Saturday or for some I think it must be Sunday.

Rom

[pastedpast]

Hello and welcome to my blog, 'pasted past'! It is a jumble of thoughts and scraps of information cut and pasted (hence the pun) from the Internet and jotted down from books and magazines which focus on art, history, nature, music, travel, film, and more besides. Occasionally, I write about personal stuff, but I tend to discard posts with particular opinions after a while.

I've been working on this blog as a labour of love since February 2011, and never more than in the last year or so. I am continuously editing: amending, updating, even deleting posts. I tap words into my mobile phone, tablet or computer, whichever is closest to hand. I could be on a train, or the beach, at my desk, or in bed - whenever the ideas and inspiration strike and I just have to note it all down. Like me, it is a work in progress, forever changing, developing, evolving. I don't know how many people read my blog, but I write it for myself, regardless. It has provided a peaceful oasis/refuge for my mind, giving me something else to concentrate on during times of turmoil!

My other hobbies include making scrapbooks, bookmarks, digital collages, decoupaging tins and boxes, and recording the events of my life in diaries. I like working with scissors, paper and glue, the original tools for cutting and pasting. I'm limited in both talent and resources, but, never mind, it keeps me out of trouble!

Ideally, I'd like to publish some sort of book using a selection of my favourite pieces of work on this blog, but that's unlikely. I've currently written over 1800 posts, many of which still require editing and those with pictures would cost a fortune to print out in bulk. Plus, I'm not sure about copyright issues. I've tried my best to credit all sources on the blog, but have sometimes slipped up and forgotten. Maybe I will publish another type of book one day, or just stick to my scrapbooks. I love books: browsing, buying, collecting and, oh yeh, reading them, so no wonder I want to make ones of my own as well!

On a final note, the photographs above are of the 'Spanish omelette in progress' that I made with my friend after I returned from Barcelona last month. I don't get chance to do much cooking these days as I haven't had my own kitchen for four years. I didn't bother taking a pic of the end result because it looked nothing like the magnificent culinary masterpiece I discovered while I was there (totally scrumptious!), although, to be fair, our effort was tasty enough, especially as I served it with fresh green beans and cheese. I originally posted the photos on Facebook, but I've recently deactivated my profile (again!). I prefer writing (and editing) on this platform instead. Sure, I don't always know where to place commas and I know next to nothing about the more advanced mechanics of sentence structure, e.g clauses, or things like split infinitives - I didn't have particularly good schooling in my teens - but I try my best to write as clearly I can*.

*A tutor at university once commented in some feedback about an assignment I'd done that I wrote "lucidly and engagingly" - great praise I will always treasure!

[tehuti88-art]

7/28/23: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Vischer (no first name ever given). He's a character from the first attempted reboot, whom I almost phased out for this reboot, but his character has started to develop again. He works solo for the resistance and has some odd connections to various other characters. There'll be more about him later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding his design, I originally pictured him as gray with blue eyes, but decided to make him a red-eyed (non-albino) rat instead. He's not hairless, he just has orangish-cream fur.

TUMBLR EDIT: Vischer (he's never been given a first name) is the subject of at least one adult-themed WIP also featuring Reseda Rat; it was never finished, and at this point likely never will be, due to its outdatedness, though the basic plot point behind it still stands so it could end up redone at some future point. His character was never developed beyond being a device to help Reseda realize his attraction to LC Silver Rat. Result, I didn't really know anything about him as a person, didn't care to, and at the outset of this latest reboot, was not interested in further developing him; although I have yet to technically can any of my older characters from the old character list, there are a handful who remain in development limbo (a few because I remember absolutely nothing about them and never even wrote a summary--Dietrich and Berit Brenner, for example?--who TF are these people??), and until like ten minutes ago, Vischer was going to remain there along with them. I realized he could still be a useful development tool for Reseda's and Silver's relationship, however, plus needed a relatively minor character to draw in hopes of writing up some shorter blog entries to TRY to get caught up, but I may have defeated myself with the latter intention. Vischer returning to the plot means he needs history. I've been gently poking at him, and I think at last he's offering some up to me. It's still HIGHLY under development (as I'm typing this, it was literally late last night that he began to open up), and...le sigh...he's brought another new character or two (or three), so far unnamed but certain to obtain names soon, along with him. So, a lot of this is still rather hazy and fudgy and subject to massive change, but here we go with some general groundwork.

Through means that I haven't ironed out yet, Vischer is responsible for, or at least feels himself to be responsible for, the death of another person, originally intended to be his lover though I suppose it could be anyone, maybe even a child. Consumed by guilt, and suicidal, he decides instead to at least make a bit of use of his own likely death by enlisting in the army to fight in the Great War. Vischer is not a fighter--he's in fact rather a pacifist, peaceful and reclusive by nature--so he reasons that, despite a crash course of training, he's unlikely to survive combat in the trenches. He can serve his country and probably end his own life at the same time. Perhaps it'll help a little to repay the debt he feels he owes for causing someone else's death.

Well...Vischer's best efforts often don't pan out, and this is one instance. Despite his assumption that he'll quickly be killed, turns out he's a halfway decent soldier after all. He goes out of his way to avoid killing, but does so when necessary, and while he could always lay down his gun and let whatever happen, he finds he just can't give up like that, he feels a compulsion to make his death a noble one--preferably, giving his own life to save someone else's. And one day near the end of the war, he finally gets the chance. He throws himself at a captain he doesn't even know and shields him from a shell blast with his own body, suffering severe injuries himself, though sparing the captain from the brunt of the blast. The mud and dirt clods land in spatters around them and they lie on the ground for a few moments gasping in pain; Vischer's ears are ringing terribly, and the pain of the percussion and shrapnel leaves him dizzy and breathless and unable to react at first. The captain lets out a small pained sound at last and Vischer pushes himself up a bit to let him breathe a little better. He's rather surprised to still be alive.

Captain: "You...you saved me."

Vischer: "Are you all right?"

Captain: "Just a..." *winces* "Just a little shrapnel in my side. I owe you my life."

Vischer: "You don't owe me anything."

*medics arrive with stretchers & clamber down toward them*

Captain: "I do. Your name? What's your name?"

Vischer: *reluctantly* "...Vischer. Feldwebel (Sergeant First Class) Vischer."

Captain: "Altermann. Hauptmann Harald Altermann. Feldwebel Vischer. I won't forget." *medics start bundling them up onto the stretchers* "I owe you! I'll pay you back, I promise."

Vischer: "You owe me nothing!"

*medics start carrying them both away*

Altermann: "I do." *shouting back at him* "Someday I'll pay you back! I won't forget!"

Vischer passes out from the pain. He groggily comes to in a medical ward, battered and bandaged and in a hundred kinds of agony, yet still alive. He groans to himself--he'd hoped he might die in the trench, as planned--yet here he is. He thinks, well, it's not a complete loss; at least he saved someone else's life, first. Nurses and a doctor come to tend to him, and he says, "There was a Hauptmann with me, where is he...?" The doctor gets an uncertain look which gives Vischer pause.

Doctor: "Herr Hauptmann Altermann...? This is the one?"

Vischer: "Ja, Harald Altermann...where is he?"

Doctor: "I'm sorry...he didn't make it."

Vischer: *blinks* "...What? But--we were just talking, he said he was barely wounded..."

Doctor: "A piece of shrapnel to his liver...he lost too much blood." *Vischer puts his hands to his face & moans* "You were friends...?" *Vischer starts crying* "I'm sorry for your loss." *awkwardly* "Would...would you know where we can reach his family?"

Vischer: *head pops up* "Family--?"

Doctor: "We found this in his pocket." *shows Vischer a photograph of Altermann along with a woman & a boy, all smiling at the camera*

Vischer: *moans again & covers his face, starting to sob*

The doctor, assuming Vischer and Altermann were good friends, ushers the nurses away to give him his space. It feels like Gott or the universe is playing some cruel joke. All Vischer had hoped to do was right a wrong, pay back the debt he owed, a life for a life. Now, not only is he still alive, but he has TWO deaths on his conscience--although technically Altermann's death isn't his fault, still, the fact that he didn't save him after all, despite his efforts, hurts just the same. Plus, Altermann has a family...Vischer doesn't, and due to his own romantic preferences, never plans to. He's entirely expendable, has no one to miss him when he's gone, has no apparent use on this earth...yet here he is, still alive. It's unfair, it's pointless, and Vischer finds he has to conclude that either Gott is the nastiest, cruelest Being to ever exist, or else He just doesn't exist at all.

He decides the best course of action now is to simply remove himself from society and disappear. He has no will to live, yet neither does he have the will to actively kill himself; he'll just stay by himself and with hope he'll at least harm no one else. He's developed a form of shell shock as it is--shaking terribly and unable to stop, waking up from frequent nightmares--so he's easily declared unfit for further military duty. Not that he was likely to serve anyway--Germany surrenders, bringing the war to an end, and the military is greatly reduced, most soldiers losing their positions. Vischer is lucky, given aid from the state for his medical condition as well as some old family savings, to be able to retreat to a country house and recuperate on his own, without needing to work. He receives no visitors aside from a nurse once in a while to check on his recovery, a delivery man who brings goods and supplies ordered from the city, and, very very rarely, a distant neighbor offering some of their own goods or services for trade. Vischer is known mostly for his reclusiveness--all anyone really knows of him is he fought in the war and took it rather hard--yet he seems harmless as well, and is polite, if distant, to anyone who visits with honest intentions. Once or twice, someone with not-so-good intentions shows up, and is greeted with the business end of Vischer's rifle--despite his seclusion and pacifist attitude, he knows how to take care of himself. So aside from the occasional trade visits, everyone leaves him alone.

Time passes like this. The National Socialists come to power. The second war starts. Vischer escapes military duty thanks to his shell shock, and watches events unfold from afar. He doesn't like the turn his homeland has taken, so much so that, when he catches an escaped prisoner trespassing on his land, he steps back and lowers his gun, waving him through. He avoids getting involved with the more established resistance networks, but he never turns anyone in, either. His property is recognized as a sort of neutral ground that it's safe to pass through, though not to shelter upon, as nobody is quite sure of Vischer's political ideology. He doesn't want to be responsible either for trying to save anyone's life or for getting anyone killed, so he engages in neither.

A military truck makes the long drive up to his house one day and someone gets out to knock at his door. Vischer refuses to answer; whatever it is, it can't be good, so he ignores them and after a few moments they leave. They make a couple more efforts over the following days and Vischer never answers, feeling vaguely disgruntled to be so bothered. He falls ill not long after, and ends up falling and knocking himself out; he could very well end up just dying there, as he often goes weeks without contact with anyone, yet he wakes again in a hospital bed, and lies there blinking and confused for a while. How did he get there? A nurse passes his bed, sees him, and calls out, "Ah, he's awake," and gestures. Someone pulls the dividing curtain back a bit and peers in. Hauptmann Altermann smiles from ear to ear and exclaims, "I'm glad I found you when I did, you're a hard person to get a hold of!"

Vischer of course just gapes, unable to speak. He starts shaking even harder. Hauptmann Altermann steps up to his bed--he's dressed in a Wehrmacht uniform now, not the uniform of the Imperial German Army--and holds out his hand, but Vischer is too rattled to take it. He introduces himself: Herr Hauptmann Harald Altermann...the Second. This is Hauptmann Altermann's son, whom Vischer saw in the photograph with his parents so long ago. Vischer lets out a breath and his shaking abates just a little though he's still spooked, saying, "I thought...I thought for a moment you were your father." "I've been told we look much alike," Hauptmann Altermann says, and apologizes for frightening him. He's the one who brought Vischer here, after peering in his window and spotting him lying on the floor. "You are the one who's been stopping by my house?" Vischer asks; yes, he is. He's been trying to get a hold of Vischer, but "You don't answer your door." "I assumed if it's the military, it's bad news," Vischer murmurs, to which Altermann smiles again and says, "Ha! Ja, always seems that way, doesn't it...?"

The nurse returns to explain that Vischer has an infection they're treating with penicillin, as well as a mild concussion from his fall, and they'd like to keep him overnight just to be sure he's all right before he returns home; right now he needs his rest. The captain promises to get in touch with him later, wishes Vischer well, and leaves. Vischer realizes he didn't get the chance to ask WHY Altermann has been trying to contact him; he'll have to do so later.

The next day a doctor checks Vischer out, deems him good to go, and they wheel him through the hospital after calling a taxi to transport him, since he has no car. The closer he gets to the exit, however, the harder Vischer's heart starts to pound and the harder he shakes, his breath catching in his throat. He grabs onto a post and halts the chair, refusing to let go. He feels like if he goes out the doors, his heart may very well stop--it makes no sense, he knows it, but still, he can't go a step further. He's effectively stuck in the hospital. As the staff start discussing how to get him out, their voices are gradually drowned out by the sound of shells exploding, and Vischer slides out of his chair and huddles on the floor, ducking his head under his arms and shaking so hard his bones hurt, holding on to the pillar--tree stump?--for dear life. He can feel the hospital tiles smooth under his legs, yet he can smell the smoke and the blood and has no idea WTF's going on.

It feels like an eternity that he's stuck in this weird no man's land between trench and hospital, hyperventilating and shaking, before something touches his shoulder and he very dimly hears a voice in the midst of all the shelling. Hauptmann Altermann is calling his name. Vischer manages to lift his head a bit and open his eyes; Altermann is crouching beside him, looking just as he did on the battlefield, except not wounded; "Herr Vischer...?" he says, concern on his face, while shells keep exploding in the muddy earth just behind him. Then, oddly--"It's all right, you're safe now," he says, and Vischer blinks--his uniform is slowly fading, changing, his Stahlhelm becoming a peaked officer's cap, the mudstains vanishing, the devastated barbed-wire wasteland behind him shifting into an aseptic hallway. "You're in hospital," Altermann says, and the last sights and smells of the trenches disappear and Vischer's tensed muscles relax, his arms loosening their grasp on the pillar. "It's all right," Altermann says, this time to the hovering hospital staff, "I can handle it." He stays by Vischer for a while as he calms down, his heart and breath slowing and his bone-rattling shaking shifting into a tremble. As he comes back to reality he starts to feel immensely foolish. "H...how did you know...?" he murmurs, to which Altermann replies, "Battle fatigue...I've seen plenty of it myself."

He doesn't even question Vischer's terror of going outside, though they do need to figure out how to get him back home, where Vischer is sure he'll feel better. Altermann says he will drive him, if he can make it out to his car. Vischer trembles harder and stares at the doors: "I'm not sure I can do it." After a moment Altermann says, "Here...take my coat," removes his greatcoat, and holds it out to him; Vischer furrows his brow but takes it, and slowly stands up when Altermann does the same. "Drape it over your shoulders and head, and shut your eyes," Altermann instructs; "How do I know where I'm going?" Vischer asks, to which Altermann replies, "Hold on to my arm and I'll guide you."

Vischer is skeptical, but obeys. He covers his head with Altermann's coat, grasps at the air, finds the captain's arm and locks his elbow around his, shutting his eyes tight. Altermann starts walking and he follows; when he hears the doors open and the sound of traffic, his heart starts beating hard again and his breathing picks up, but--"Breathe slow," Altermann says, "focus on your heartbeat, try to make it slow"--Vischer does so, and with tentative steps he makes it to a car parked at the curb; Altermann opens the door and Vischer climbs into what he realizes is the backseat. "You can lie down and keep your eyes shut if it helps," Altermann says, "and I'll let you know when we get there." Vischer lies down on the seat and draws the coat around himself tighter; Altermann shuts the door, gets in the driver's seat, and they depart from the hospital.

Just as he'd suspected, when they arrive at Vischer's property, he calms down considerably, and can even return Altermann's coat; Altermann accompanies him inside to make sure he's all right, then rummages around to make some tea. They sit in Vischer's parlor in silence for a while.

Vischer: "I'm sorry to put you out so."

Altermann: "It's all right, I don't mind. Like I said though, I'm glad I found you when I did. It's so empty out here, what do you do when you need something?"

Vischer: "I don't need much. I've done fine for myself."

Altermann: "Well...seems we've found the one thing you can't do well for yourself. You have a telephone line at least, I hope...?"

Vischer: "I have a telephone. Danke for your help, but you needn't worry yourself about me."

Altermann: "Sorry, Herr Vischer, but you're on my mind now, I'm not the sort who just forgets someone. I'll check on you if it's all right. At least until you're all better."

Vischer: "I'm fine." *fidgets* "It reminds me though, you said you've been trying to get in touch with me...why are you here?"

Altermann: "I owe you a debt."

Vischer is both startled to hear those words again, and confused--how and why does he owe him a debt? Altermann explains that the debt is his father's, which he's come to pay in his place. How does he know about that? Hauptmann Altermann was alive long enough to tell his doctors and nurses about the "Feldwebel Vischer" who had helped him on the battlefield, asking them to in turn tell his family; after the doctor managed to track them down, he passed along the word. His son never forgot the information, and after rising through the ranks in the Wehrmacht, decided it was finally time to locate Vischer and pay him back. But what's the debt? "You saved his life," Altermann says; Vischer furrows his brow and says, "No I didn't. He died in spite of me. Or maybe even because of me." Altermann replies, "You tried, and you gained him a little time more. Enough time to ask the doctors to tell us he loved us. It might not seem like much to you, Herr Vischer, but to my mother and me, it was everything. I'm here to pay you back like he promised."

Lots of conversations between these two have been running through my head. The long story short, Vischer keeps trying to put Altermann off, insisting there's no debt to repay, and even if there was, it was his father's debt, not his. Altermann confidently counters every argument he comes up with, however, and no matter how short tempered Vischer gets about it, remains undeterred. And believe me when I say Vischer gets short tempered; all he wants is to be left alone, to owe no one and have no one owe him, so Altermann's insistence on paying him back for some (to him) imaginary debt wears on him greatly. Nothing he says or does, no matter how ill tempered, puts the captain off; even when he loses his temper and snaps at him, Altermann simply sits and takes it, letting him vent it out of his system before responding calmly that it doesn't matter what he thinks, a debt is a debt, and he's going to find some way to pay him back.

When Vischer gets angry one day, something in his comments finally sparks a different response from Altermann: The young captain frowns slightly, remaining silent as always while Vischer goes off, though afterward, he says something that gives Vischer pause: "Not everything is about you, you know. Do you stop to think maybe I have my own reason for wanting to repay a debt?" Vischer pauses, then asks, "Is that what this is?--you have a debt of your own that you owe?" Altermann confirms this...yet won't tell Vischer what that debt is. The only thing he needs to know is that Altermann owes someone, he's chosen Vischer to repay (largely due to his father already owing him), and he won't let it be until the debt is repaid. Various times after Altermann does favors for him, of varying complexity, Vischer asks if now, finally, they're even; yet it never seems like they are. He knows Altermann's not just being contrary--he can sense his sincerity, that he genuinely feels he hasn't fully paid him back yet, which convinces him that Altermann owes a heavy debt indeed--possibly far heavier even than his father owing Vischer an hour or so of his life. He also suggests, more than once, that Altermann name something he can do that would make them even, or set up some scenario that would make it so, but to these ideas Altermann just throws up his hands: "It doesn't work that way, Herr Vischer; I can't just tell ahead of time what will or won't settle things. It's something I need to feel in my gut. Only then will I know for sure." Out of ideas, Vischer asks, will Altermann accept it then, and move on, when his debt is paid in full...? If that's what he wants, Altermann replies, then yes. Then he'll move on.

I don't yet know what Altermann's debt actually is, though it's obviously a big/serious one. This is Vischer's entry, so I won't brainstorm what it is just yet; that can wait for Altermann's entry, if and when I should get to it. The long story short for now is that Hauptmann Altermann effectively becomes Vischer's shadow throughout much of the storyline, helping him out in various ways--one of the biggest and most lasting being to help him overcome most of his agoraphobia, to the point that he's able to finally leave his property and go out in public without suffering a panic attack, as long as Altermann is nearby. They become quite close, though it always remains more of a helper/helpee relationship rather than equal friends (and the two are never romantically interested in each other--Vischer never tells Altermann about his preferences, since he serves alongside the Nazis, after all). Neither one of them ever loses sight of the fact that Altermann's main reason for even being in touch with Vischer is to pay him back, and that once this is accomplished--if ever--it's simply assumed that they'll part ways.

At some point an American Trench Rats unit must pass by Vischer's property--they've likely been informed it's safe to pass through--and somehow, PFC/Lance Corporal Reseda Rat (I think he gets promoted at some point during the story) ends up injured and stuck on the property; he abruptly finds himself confronted by Vischer with his rifle. The Rats know Vischer as the landowner, yet that's all they know of him, and they've never established contact. Reseda passes out before he can try to defend himself. He comes to inside a house, bundled up on a couch with his injuries tended to; he's terribly confused and groggy at first, until Vischer shows up. An unwelcoming look on his face, he addresses Reseda, seeming to be asking something. "I can't speak German," Reseda says, to which Vischer replies, "Good thing for you I speak English, then."

Vischer is obviously suspicious and vaguely hostile toward Reseda at first, though it gradually becomes clear he has no malicious intent and is really just a private citizen who wishes to be left alone. He has no apparent ties to the Nazis even though a Wehrmacht officer (Altermann) has been observed visiting his property; the Rats do their typical digging and find out that Altermann, despite his necessary connections to the Party, isn't a member himself, though they can't be sure whether he's a fellow traveler or not. Vischer refuses to divulge further information on Altermann and the Rats get the feeling he's protecting him as a friend. He promises not to notify authorities about the Rats, although this is merely his standard procedure and has nothing to do with any Allied sympathies; when they make tentative overtures at requesting the usage of his land, he refuses this as well, vowing that if he finds out they've gone against his wishes and done so anyway, he'll make liberal use of his gun. The Rats take a step back from attempting to negotiate with him even as they continue trying to determine his loyalties; most private parties who disavow any relationship with the Nazis have been receptive so far to cooperation, so Vischer's neutrality is perplexing and makes them suspicious.

One thing, though, seems clear: Vischer has shown a willingness to communicate with Reseda, plus he didn't shoot him--he actually helped him. The Rats decide to use Reseda to try to collect information on him. This request doesn't sit well with Reseda at all, so he does something that, if the Rats, and especially his company commander Lance Corporal Silver, caught wind of it, would likely get him in hot water: He outright informs Vischer this is why he's been sent back to talk to him. Vischer just stands and listens, an odd expression on his face, as Reseda explains the situation; when he finishes, Vischer is silent a moment, then says, "Why are you telling me this?" Reseda admits he doesn't know; "It just doesn't feel right asking you for a favor using a ruse." Something about this answer makes the look on Vischer's face shift slightly; Reseda wonders if he's going to be asked to leave, when Vischer finally says, "Since you've been honest with me, then I'll be honest with you."

The Trench Rats aren't the first ones to request the use of Vischer's property for their own purposes. Nazi officials make the same request, promising that they intend only to have troops occasionally rest and make plans there. Hauptmann Altermann, who brought the officers along with him, stands aside and remains silent as they talk; Vischer asks for a bit of time to think it over, and they leave. He privately asks Altermann what he thinks. Altermann doesn't answer for a moment, seeming indecisive; he finally appears to mentally settle something, and replies, "I think you shouldn't believe them. They're lying to you." He explains that they'd been openly discussing their true plans for Vischer and his property on the way there, assuming that Altermann sympathized; they in fact intend to make full use of his land as both lodgings for troops and an observation base, with the intent to hunt down, capture, and kill any enemies they find upon it, and not only that, but if Vischer opposes this or raises a fuss, it must mean he's not loyal to the Reich, and he'll be put down as well: "They have a file on you already," Altermann says, "all the private details the SS could dig up on your life now and during and before the Great War. They say there are rumors about you from back then. I won't go into detail. But it's enough to give them an excuse to put you in a camp or to kill you." Vischer feels his insides knotting up, his skin going cold and his trembling growing, as Altermann talks; he knows exactly what "rumors" the file must be referring to, and he's heard stories about what the Nazis do to people like him. Just as with Reseda later on, "Why are you telling me this...?" he asks numbly, to which Altermann replies, "I know you value honesty, and I owe you. And I hope I'm right in trusting you to know that I don't agree with this. It's not my place to indulge in such rumors. But mere rumors shouldn't be enough to get someone killed, anyway."

So, there it is: Altermann's aware of Vischer's secret, and neither approves nor disapproves--he finds it's none of his business. He has no interest in outing him. And he's taking a big risk in merely telling Vischer this, since he's unsure of Vischer's loyalty to the Reich, himself. In effect, he's just shown Vischer his hand, and opened himself up to prosecution if Vischer decides to turn him in. Vischer is pretty sure he could guarantee his own continued safety from the Nazis if he were to hand them a far bigger fish such as Altermann--Altermann had absolutely everything to lose, and nothing to gain, from sharing the information he just shared. After a few tense moments of silence, Vischer ventures, "And you're sure that telling me this doesn't fulfill your debt...?" There's a brief pause before the corner of Altermann's mouth twitches. "Not by a long shot, I'm afraid," he replies.

Vischer doesn't give Reseda all the details of his relationship with Altermann, but says he's nobody to worry about. He won't grant the Rats permission to use his land without knowing what exactly they intend to do with it. Reseda calls Silver to speak with Vischer about their plans, figuring his word will carry more weight; Silver is perhaps the best known of the Rats, deeply despised by the Nazis. Vischer recognizes him by name when he arrives and clarifies that the Rats won't use his land for anything but observational purposes; he seems perplexed when Vischer insists that, should the Rats encounter any Nazis on his property, they won't attempt to capture or kill them, and will maintain neutrality. "You have to admit it doesn't sound terribly neutral," Silver says, to which Vischer coldly replies, "If you don't like my terms, you're free to take your business off my property." Communication briefly threatens to break down when Reseda steps back in to try to calm them both down. Silver grudgingly backs off and accepts Vischer's terms; Vischer seems vaguely bemused at first by his change in attitude, yet then appears to notice or realize something, and also backs off, and grants the Trench Rats the permission they were seeking. As they prepare to leave, Silver instructs Reseda that, since he seems to have established some sort of rapport with Vischer, he's to act as an intermediary; he tells him to remain behind until they return with supplies to set up an outpost. Reseda is nonplussed--he hadn't expected this--yet reluctantly accepts when Vischer offers to get him a drink while he waits. As Vischer hands him a mug of tea, he says, "I could say the same of Herr Silver." "Say what...?" Reseda asks, puzzled. Vischer replies, "That you seem to have established a rapport with him," at which Reseda nearly drops his drink. He shoots Vischer a look that's startled, hostile, guarded, and confused all at once, and Vischer knows he read him correctly: Reseda has romantic feelings for Silver.

Over time, as the two grow familiar with each other, Vischer subtly makes it clear Reseda's own secret is safe with him, and hints at the reason why. Neither of them ever goes into a great amount of detail--it isn't necessary--though they share enough for Vischer to learn that Reseda's feelings are so far unrequited, and he has no plans to make it otherwise. He briefly outlines how, recently, Silver was captured by the Nazis and tortured before escaping, and the torture included an incident with a particularly brutal Nazi sergeant; again, he doesn't give details, though the pained look that flits across his face makes it clear it was something especially dreadful. Although Silver's always been an exceptionally critical company leader, frequently targeting Reseda for a tongue lashing, Reseda insists the criticism is justified, and has been attempting to cover for Silver's occasional lapses in focus since the capture. Sensing his guilt, Vischer says, "You realize none of this is on you, ja?--he's not your responsibility." Reseda just stares at his mug before murmuring, "And what if some of it is on me...? He shouldn't end up punished on my account. I'm expendable, he's not."

Vischer understands everything Reseda's feeling, since he's dealt with all the same feelings himself. He finds himself perplexed by his desire to convince the Trench Rat that he's not to blame for the situation, when he's never managed to convince himself of the same thing. As he tries to work through these conflicting feelings he requests confirmation of Reseda's story from Altermann. Altermann, who doesn't know about Vischer's agreement with the Trench Rats--Vischer doesn't want to compromise him by clueing him in--verifies that "Der Silbergeist" was briefly captured by the Nazis while breaking into the headquarters of a medical project. He's heard of the doctor in charge of the project, and yes, he makes use of the guards to rough up his prisoners now and then. Unprompted, Altermann disdainfully mentions one particularly thuggish guard the doctor likes to use, named Lange; even the other Nazis hate him. "He...has a quite repulsive way of dealing with his captives," he says, curtly. Vischer understands exactly what he means by this and doesn't need to ask for clarification. Silver hadn't made a very good impression on him, though he muses that the Trench Rat is likely dealing with trauma similar to his own, and he knows how difficult he himself is to deal with; that Reseda is still willing to deal with Silver says a lot about how much he must care for him.

Vischer decides not to bring Silver up again unless Reseda does so first, to avoid making him uncomfortable. It takes a bit for the Rats to set up at his place--Vischer offers them his dining room to place some communication equipment, watching with detached curiosity--so he and Reseda maintain contact, and Reseda even confides in him a little, not much, though more than Vischer senses he's had the chance to tell anyone else before. He admits something one day that surprises Vischer--that he wasn't entirely honest in his earlier description of the situation. Silver had actually kissed him, just once, not so long ago. Vischer expects to feel resentment at being lied to...yet he doesn't. Instead, he furrows his brow and says, "Why did you feel you had to conceal this from me?" Reseda looks both guilty and confused; "I don't know," he admits, "maybe because I don't want to put too much thought into it...in case it means nothing." Vischer asks, "And why would you think it means nothing?" to which Reseda replies, head lowered, "Because it has to. I can't help thinking all of it is my fault. I was angry...I wanted something to humiliate him the way he humiliated me...and look what happened." Feeling a pang, Vischer says, "Herr Reseda, I know nothing I say can convince you, because nobody's ever convinced me, but that isn't how it works. You don't make something happen by thinking about it."

As soon as he says this--an odd reaction. Reseda stiffens slightly, then looks at him, seeming confused again, as if he can't believe Vischer said that. Vischer briefly wonders whether he should apologize--for what, he isn't sure--when Reseda kisses him. His eyes go wide and he blinks; his first instinct is to shove Reseda away and punch him for good measure, yet...the brief little surge of anger immediately dies when he suddenly realizes how lonely he is, and has been, all these years of self-imposed isolation. He hasn't had any meaningful contact or communication with anyone but Altermann ever since his last relationship, and Altermann's friendship does only so much. Although he isn't entirely sure it's a good idea to get so closely involved with anyone else, he finds himself returning the kiss.

For a short while, he and Reseda privately meet; it isn't difficult to conceal the relationship, given Reseda's ready-made explanation for being there, though Vischer easily senses the Trench Rat's embarrassment--not quite strong enough to be shame, so he knows that, similar to him, he's probably been fortunate enough to never deal with the sort of hatred and hostility their sort often faces. It's more likely Reseda's discomfort is self-inflicted, like his own. So he makes a point to never discuss the situation, or try to pinpoint where exactly they stand; he just assumes he's a temporary distraction while Reseda tries to figure out his feelings. And that's a bit saddening, but otherwise fine by him; he knows that, given his personal situation, it's highly unlikely he'll ever fall in love with anyone again or carry on a proper relationship, so a temporary reprieve from the loneliness will do. It's a bit more complicated for him to hide all this from Altermann, though he manages. Result, he's a bit surprised, but not offended, when Reseda accidentally calls him "Silbergeist." He finally brings up the subject again--pointing out Reseda's obvious fixation on Silver, as well as asking why he hasn't acted on it. Reseda initially insists that Silver would never be interested in him like that--here is their exchange--but pauses to recall the signs he's already seen, and Vischer knows a seed of uncertainty has taken root at last. He says, "I won't tell you to stop coming by...but what it is you really want, really need, I don't believe you'll find it here. And you won't be happy until you do find it."

Vischer is vaguely saddened and wistful when Reseda takes the step and moves on, but knows it's necessary, and the two of them were never going to be anything other than distractions for each other. They end their physical relationship but do maintain contact related to the Trench Rats' operations on Vischer's property. In passing one day (this is a developing plot point that needs ironing out) Reseda makes mention of a Luftwaffe soldier the Rats had captured, who managed to escape their custody--an unusual occurrence, given how careful the Rats usually are. He shows Vischer a photo they took of him for their records, along with the info that he's a Junker, but Vischer claims he's never seen him and knows nothing about him, and even if he did, he wouldn't turn him back over to them. It's a minor incident, soon forgotten, until much later on.

By then, Altermann's helped Vischer to manage his agoraphobia enough that he can leave his property as long as Altermann accompanies him; the Germans know of Vischer's difficulty adjusting after the Great War, so Altermann assisting him isn't questionable. Altermann informs him he's been invited to a visit with a Nazi official and despite not wishing to go, he has to, or else risk arousing suspicion about his loyalty to the Reich; he adds that Vischer's loyalty has been similarly questioned, and suggests he come along. When Vischer learns exactly where they've been invited--to a labor camp--he nearly refuses out of disgust, but reluctantly agrees, as who knows what other options the Nazis will offer. So one day Altermann drives him to the camp and they're welcomed inside by the commandant who's invited them. He has all the prisoners called out to stand in formation and brags about how obedient they are despite their obvious limitations. Altermann is better at feigning appreciation for this than Vischer is; he and the commandant get to chatting while Vischer steps away briefly to shake off his revulsion. He finds himself eyeing the rows of inmates standing at attention, perfectly silent in their striped outfits; he turns away from them and starts walking in Altermann's direction before slowing to a stop, frowning and peering back. For some reason a prisoner in one of the front rows catches his notice; although there are a handful of others with blue eyes and Aryan features, most of them have colored badges that identify them as Jews or Roma or criminals. This one is wearing a red triangle. Vischer isn't familiar with this badge. What really caught his eye, however, was how familiar the prisoner looks; he's sure he's seen him before, which is nearly impossible, as he almost never goes out. He starts feeling suspicious, though, and approaches him, careful to avoid the notice of the commandant or guards.

Vischer: "Excuse me." *stops before & a bit to the side of the prisoner, looking at him; prisoner's eyes shift toward him, toward the prisoner to his other side, back to Vischer, then forward again* "Ja, you, with the red badge. Could you tell me your name...?"

Prisoner: *stiff rehearsed voice* "We do not use our names in the camp, Mein Herr."

Vischer: "Yet you do have a name."

Prisoner: "We leave our names at the gate, Mein Herr."

Vischer: *vaguely impatient* "You were surely given a name by your mother and father before you came here, ja...?"

Prisoner: *swallows* "My identification number is--" *rattles off a letter & a bunch of numbers*

Vischer: *changing tack* "Your badge then, can you tell me what it means--? Why you're here?"

Prisoner: "It is the badge of a traitor and a deserter, Mein Herr."

Vischer: "I notice you don't say you actually are either of these things, Freund."

Prisoner: *eyes shift toward Vischer, toward the commandant, then forward again; he looks anxious now & bites his lip a little*

Vischer: *noticing his look, moves a bit closer to block the commandant's view* *whispering* "There's something you need to say...?"

Prisoner: *long pause* *lowers head toward Vischer just a little so Vischer follows suit* *whispering* "My..." *loses nerve & trails off*

Vischer: "Your name...?"

Prisoner: *pause* "Adalard von Staden."

Vischer: "Von Staden?"

Prisoner: "I am neither a traitor nor a deserter, Mein Herr. I've served the Fatherland faithfully."

Vischer: "You are a soldier?"

Prisoner: "Airman. Tell my family--" *cuts himself off & stands at attention again; Vischer looks to see the commandant approaching, Altermann following*

Vischer turns away from the prisoner; Altermann has an expression that shows he noticed Vischer's conversation with the prisoner and attempted to distract the commandant as long as he could, while the commandant himself looks suspicious. "Why are you talking to that prisoner?" he asks. "I was curious about his badge, I've never seen it before," Vischer says, to which the commandant curtly replies, "It's the badge of a political prisoner. If you wished to know, you had merely to ask me or a guard, the prisoners aren't allowed to converse. Now if you and Herr Hauptmann Altermann are done here..."

Their awkward visit concluded--"Atrocious place," Altermann mutters on the way out the gate--they head back to Vischer's home, unsure if the trip helped much to preserve the appearance of loyalty to the Reich. "Why were you so interested in that prisoner...?" Altermann asks on the way in, puzzled. Vischer says he swears he's seen him before. As expected, Altermann expresses skepticism over this--where would Vischer have the opportunity to meet someone of the prisoner's age?--he's too young to have served in the Great War. Vischer pauses before deciding to take the plunge.

Vischer: "You say you owe me a debt...you swear you'll tell no one what I tell you?"

Altermann: "Of course."

Vischer: "On your father's name."

Altermann: *furrows brow at Vischer's seriousness* "I swear on it, Herr Vischer. What is this about?"

Vischer: "That prisoner claims his name is Adalard von Staden."

Altermann: *frowning* "Von Staden...? A Junker name?"

Vischer: "He claims he was wrongly accused."

Altermann: "As vile as the whole practice is, Herr Vischer, I'm sure many prisoners claim this. And it may be odd to find a Junker in a camp but it makes sense, if he's a political prisoner. What makes this one special?"

Vischer: "I've heard his name and seen his face before."

Altermann: *confused* "How? When?"

Vischer: *pause* "You insist you owe me a debt. If I ask something of you, you'll do it...?"

Altermann: "Of course I will, if it's in my power."

Vischer: "I need to know I can trust you."

Altermann: "Herr Vischer..." *shrugs* "I'm not sure how much clearer I can make it. Whatever you need me to do, if I can, I will. And if I can't, then I still owe you. I swear you'll have nothing to regret from merely asking."

Vischer: *long pause* "I've been in communication with Allied forces. For some months now."

Even as he finally admits this, Vischer does indeed regret it: He sees the way Altermann's eyes widen and all the blood drains from his face. Of course there are limits to debts, there always are. Even as he mentally berates himself for being so foolish, Altermann exclaims, "Why would you even joke about something so serious--?" Vischer starts to protest that he isn't joking; Altermann raises his voice and interrupts, "Of course you're joking with me, and I don't find it amusing," yet even as he says this, he's hurriedly pulling a little notepad and a pencil stub out of his pocket and jotting something down, then holding it up; Vischer opens his mouth to defend himself, then sees what Altermann's written: Vorsicht bei Gesprächen, Feind hört mit! (Be careful when talking, the enemy is listening!)--and immediately shuts up, his skin going cold. "You're not being yourself," Altermann says aloud, "why would you even tell such a joke?" Vischer swallows, gathers himself a bit, and shakily replies, "I just needed to be sure you were trustworthy...and that's the biggest thing I could think of. I apologize." "Ja, well..." Altermann says, putting away the notepad and gesturing for Vischer to follow him, "You already know this, you needn't lie about such ridiculous things. Let's fetch a drink to settle you down."

Altermann points Vischer out to the patio and brings out the drinks; Vischer's not big on drinking but he needs one now, downing half of his glass in one go. "I can't be sure," Altermann says quietly as he joins him, "but I can't help but think maybe they wanted me out of your house for a bigger reason than they hinted. It's why I asked you to come with me even though I knew you'd hate it. Thing is, they could've taken advantage of your absence, as well." He pours the visibly rattled Vischer another drink. "Should be safe to talk out here," he adds, and Vischer lets out a breath.

Vischer: "I...I didn't even think."

Altermann: "Of course you wouldn't, what reason would you have?"

Vischer: "You're sure you haven't just repaid your debt to me...?"

Altermann: "Not yet I haven't. Now...what was this you were saying? About Allies?" *furrows brow* "Did I hear you right? When would you possibly have had the chance...? And why? I have so many questions."

Vischer: "I haven't much to say. While you were gone, obviously. They wanted use of my land. Same as our men. I allowed them only if they limited themselves to observations and regrouping. I told them if they attempted using my land as an outpost to attack our men, they would have to leave. The same rule I would have given our men if I granted them access, but remember, you said they wouldn't abide by it. I haven't offered or given them any information on our troops or on you. Although I know this makes little difference should you choose to report me."

Altermann: "I have no interest. They've abided by their end of the deal?"

Vischer: "So far. They ask for a little information now and then but I don't give it. I think they know where they stand."

Altermann: "How long has this been going on? You said months?"

Vischer: "A while now." *peers anxiously back at his house*

Altermann: "I have no reason to suspect they planted anything prior to today, and they would have had next-to-no opportunity, anyway. I'm not even sure if they did so today, yet I urge you to caution just in case, especially since I think I might have thwarted their original plan. If they had planted anything before, I think we would've found out by now."

Vischer: "You really believe they would have killed me...?"

Altermann: "I've told you already, given what they already know, they could take any opportunity to be rid of you. I think I'm probably the reason they haven't tried anything, though I could always be overestimating my own importance. Either way, better to be safe. What does any of this have to do with that prisoner, though...?"

Vischer: "One of them told me of an airman they captured a while back, who escaped their custody. They don't lose many prisoners. They seemed to think he might compromise them but I told them that even if I knew what became of him, I wouldn't help them track him back down, and they dropped it. They had a photo, though, and said he was a young Junker named von Staden. The same man I saw in the camp."

Altermann: "You're absolutely certain of this."

Vischer: "I remember his face clearly, Herr Altermann. The type of face they put on recruiting posters, not stick in a camp. Yet for some reason they believe he's a traitor? He insists he's loyal to the Fatherland."

Altermann: "They likely think he aided these people he escaped from. Especially if escapes are indeed as rare as you yourself say they claimed?"

Vischer: "He was very clear that he aided no one. Do not tell me they put a loyal German citizen in a camp for absolutely nothing...?"

Altermann: *uneasy look* "As much as it pains me to say, as I said before, sometimes all it takes is a rumor."

Vischer: "He wanted me to tell his family about him. He has people on the outside, Herr Altermann, who might not have any idea what's become of him. The people I'm in contact with have no information on his whereabouts so I doubt his family knows, either. It's possible I'm the only one, aside from the authorities."

Altermann: "And why is it that you tell me all this...?"

Vischer: "You said you would do what you can to repay your debt. You still mean it?"

Altermann: "If I'm able. What would you have me do?"

Vischer: "You knew about the SS file on me. You must have connections. Try to find out if this man is who he says he is and if the intel is correct. My heart and my gut tell me he's innocent. His family deserves to know. And, if it's at all possible, to get him out of that place." *pause* "I realize I'm putting you in a difficult position, Herr Altermann, and may be overstepping my bounds in what I ask. So I understand if you refuse, and considering what you did today, I'll still consider the debt paid..."

Altermann: *shaking head* "Nein...I told you I'd do what's in my power. I'm just not sure if it is. I'll do what I can, though. And actually, as foolish as it may be, now you've piqued my curiosity about this man, as well."

Altermann heads off, promising to let Vischer know anything he's learned, and warning him to watch what he says in the meantime, in case his house is bugged. Vischer returns to his house and peers around uneasily. His beloved refuge suddenly seems just as frightening and unwelcoming as the outside world, and he's unsure how to handle it. He looks around a little bit, but has no idea where he'd hide a bug were he the one trying to eavesdrop, so stops.

Silver Rat and part of his company arrive the next day for a standard visit. At the door, Silver opens his mouth to talk, when Vischer cuts him off with a shushing motion, then cups a hand to his ear and glances about. Silver presses his mouth shut, gives him a suspicious look, yet then starts gesturing silently at the Rats behind him, pointing them toward different areas of Vischer's house; they quickly disperse. Vischer stands in a hallway and watches anxiously as they feel and peer under furniture, wall art, cupboards. Eventually they start returning and whisper in Silver's ear; he frowns, nods, makes a "wait" gesture at a questioning look, and then gestures at Vischer, motioning at mouth, ear, shaking his head. Vischer signals for him to follow him back to the patio.

Vischer: "You found something?"

Silver: "Four listening devices." *Vischer shudders a little* "How did you know they were there?"

Vischer: "My friend suspected."

Silver: "Your friend in the Wehrmacht?"

Vischer: "He's none of your concern." *Silver stares at him* "Ja, him. That's all you need to know."

Silver: "How long have these been there?"

Vischer: "I believe they were placed just yesterday."

Silver: "And why would they have interest in spying on you?"

Vischer: *piqued* "Apparently I'm not loyal enough to the Reich. I didn't have to tell you about them, but I did. What are you going to do with them? Destroy them?"

Silver: "I think they'd actually be more useful left intact."

Vischer: "Intact--?"

Silver: "Now that we know where they are, they can be used to disseminate false information."

Vischer: "False--? I already told you. I'm not getting involved in your business, and you're not running missions from my house. If you think I'll start lying to the authorities--"

Silver: "You know full well you're already involved AND you've already lied to the authorities. As for these things, the moment we destroy them or remove them, it tips them off that you know, and they'll come for you. Is that what you want...?"

Vischer falls silent, steaming yet knowing it's true. Feeling rather tricked, he asks what exactly they want him to do. Reseda suggests--since Silver and Vischer look ready to deck each other--that the next time Vischer talks within range of the eavesdropping devices, he start by giving an erroneous bit of info, then seeing where it tracks back to. Perhaps someone specific is behind this. Tensions simmer down a little bit and Reseda takes Vischer aside to ask if he knows the real reason why the Nazis are so interested in him; Vischer replies that as far as he's aware, his loyalty is the real reason, though "I imagine they're going to be far more interested in me, now"--he describes the visit to the camp, the run-in with the prisoner, the reaction of the commandant. (He doesn't mention telling Altermann.) Reseda's surprise proves the Rats were indeed unaware of von Staden's fate after he escaped their custody; additionally, he verifies that, while von Staden was polite and didn't cause trouble, he never cooperated with them or fed them information. It's exactly as he said--he's neither a traitor nor a deserter. "Then they really did stick one of their own in a camp for nothing," Vischer says.

The next day when Altermann returns and Vischer brings up the bugs--without mentioning the Trench Rats' involvement--he makes a face: "I can't believe I didn't think of it, of course destroying or removing the devices would tip them off." He suggests trying to trace them back to whoever ordered them placed, by planting false info; as Reseda said the exact same thing, Vischer decides it must be a decent idea, and he and Altermann accordingly stage a brief conversation with false leads in it. Altermann then gestures for Vischer to follow him back outside, where he outlines what he's learned so far. The commandant wasn't very forthcoming with info on the prisoner, but finally relented when Altermann made a few vague threats ("Ugh, I hate trying to pull rank--on someone higher up than I am, no less!"), and located his ID number and name in their records: Adalard von Staden. Seeming genuinely confused and dismayed ("He could always have been acting, I suppose"), he offered to help get Altermann in touch with SS-Totenkopfverbände authorities, but Altermann said he would follow up on his own. The officials at SS-TV headquarters gave him a pretty chilly reception once he made his mission clear, but a vow to go speak with von Staden's family ("I'm sure, should they find some information's been withheld from them, they'll request an audience with der Führer") made them waver. At last he was left waiting for a few hours ("I think they were hoping I'd just up and leave, unfortunately for them, I'm used to sitting and waiting") before an official returned to fill him in on what they'd found. "You should have heard them then," Altermann says with obvious disgust, "that obsequious bureaucratic language! Such an egregious mistake and all that nonsense! If true then they have no idea how it happened and it'll never happen again! The nerve of hinting I was making it all up, Herr Vischer, I've dealt with plenty of government nonsense but I don't think I've ever been so angry." He adds that the SS promised to investigate further and, if a wrong had actually been committed, set it right. Altermann renewed his vow to contact von Staden's family if they dragged their feet--"Perhaps I'll reach out to der Reichsführer as well"--and left before he could wear out his welcome, and that was where things now stood. "I guess now we wait," he sighs, "and pray that Herr von Staden can hold on till then, as well."

Things start happening within days. Vischer and Altermann aren't sure whether it's the threat of contacting higher-ups, or genuine guilt that motivates the SS-TV to act--or maybe a warning nudge from the Allgemeine-SS to get a move on--but they locate the proper documentation that indeed shows von Staden was sent to the camp without a proper trial, and no one can even locate a witness or complainant against him; his superiors in the Wehrmacht questioned him yet never alleged any improper behavior. If anything, it looks like the allegations started with the SS itself, though of course nobody comes right out and admits anything. The commandant orders von Staden sent from work to the medical infirmary to be examined and treated for any health issues, then to the showers to wash up, then put back in uniform and shuttled out of the camp and to his parents, who embrace and cry over him before taking him home, utterly bewildered. And then the incident is pretty much swept back under the rug as if it never happened. Vischer and Altermann are both steamed over this, but Altermann admits that it was always basically ensured there would never be any punishment: "They're the SS, who's going to hold them responsible?--themselves?" He says they should try to be content that a wrong has been righted and von Staden is back where he belongs. As for his debt, "This may have been a lot of work, Herr Vischer, yet at the end of the day I was hardly in any danger, the lack of evidence was so overwhelming I hardly had to lift a finger to show this imprisonment was a sham. I'm afraid you're still stuck with me for now."

Time passes, Altermann still visiting Vischer every couple of days or so. The two of them are perplexed one evening when a soft knock comes at the back door. Vischer tells Altermann to wait while he checks, though he feels uneasy--visitors usually come to the front door. And indeed, he nearly starts when he opens it to peer out and finds Silver and several others from his company waiting there. "What are you doing here--?" he demands under his breath, "--I'm not alone!" Altermann's car is parked out front, and the Rats have never dropped in while he's there. He assumes they've just missed seeing the car and this is some kind of monumental mistake, though the look on Silver's face shows he had every intention of coming today no matter what. Before he can speak, his eyes shift to look at something behind Vischer--neck prickling, Vischer turns to look as well, and there's Altermann, staring back at them. "Herr Vischer...?" he says in obvious confusion; Vischer finds that he's lost his voice. "I figured you'd already told him about us," Silver says without the least hint of surprise, and gestures; Vischer has to step aside as the Rats enter, shutting the door behind them. "Hauptmann Altermann--? Sprechen Sie Englisch?" Silver says; Altermann furrows his brow but nods--"Can you read it?"--another nod--and Silver pulls out an envelope and holds it out to him. Altermann and Vischer share a look, then Altermann takes the envelope and opens it. Silver turns to Vischer.

Silver: "While you've been busy with other things we've had our ear to the ground. I take it from your reactions you haven't gotten the news yet."

Vischer: "What news? And why do you insist on endangering me like this?"

Silver: "I doubt you're in much danger just yet. We traced back the false information you gave out."

Vischer: *furrowing brow* "You--? How did you get hold of it?"

Silver: "I said we've been listening around. Rumors spread. We have yet to pinpoint a specific name but so far, the information's passing around among higher-ups in the Wehrmacht."

Vischer: "The Wehrmacht? Not the SS?"

Silver: "They're involved, but they aren't the primary parties."

Vischer: "But I've never been in the Wehrmacht. The SS are the ones who have a file on me. And surely I've just angered them even further with this von Staden business."

Silver: "Trust me, the SS already has far more than enough intel to put you in a camp if they really wished. They don't need any further justification. It's not you they're interested in."

Vischer: *confused* "Not me--? If not me, then who--?"

Altermann: "Me." *Vischer looks at him* "I'm the one they're interested in."

Altermann is still reading the papers Silver gave him, and looks utterly dismayed. "You...?" Vischer says, to which he replies, "I actually convinced myself I wasn't nearly important enough to catch their interest...but it's me they've been after all along. They put those devices in your house to listen in on me, not you. They just used you to get to me." "Then..." says Vischer, feeling his heart sucking in, "...then that means I led them right to you." Altermann immediately tries to put him at ease--"Herr Vischer, don't think for even one moment that you're to blame for this," yet to Vischer it's pretty obvious he is. Now, as for WHY the Wehrmacht, and by extension the SS, are interested in Altermann...this is a plot point that needs tweaking yet. I'm pretty sure it relates to Altermann's secret, the real reason he feels so much that he owes Vischer (more accurately, probably anybody) a debt; seeing as Altermann hasn't shared with me what this secret is just yet, I thus don't know why the authorities are so interested in collecting info on him that they're willing, so far, to let Vischer slide. The revelation about von Staden definitely helps draw even further scrutiny, yet it isn't the primary target of the Wehrmacht's focus. Altermann is the "big fish" they want.

Silver vows that the Rats will keep listening for further info. Vischer is crushed; no amount of reassurance from Altermann that he's not to blame helps. There's little they can do about it yet, though, so for the most part they have to just sit tight while keeping their ears open for further word. They receive another visitor one day--surprisingly, von Staden--who very quietly and tentatively addresses Vischer with, "You are the one who got me out of that place." Vischer clarifies that Altermann did most of the work; "Danke sehr to you both, then," von Staden says; "I feel I owe you a debt," at which Altermann and Vischer protest vehemently that this isn't necessary. Vischer notices how tightly he clutches his garrison cap in his hands, his very slight tremor, the way he keeps his head somewhat down, and especially the glassy look in his eyes, and feels an uncomfortable pang on recognizing himself; he invites the corporal inside. Von Staden politely refuses, though he does seem to relax just a little bit when Altermann retreats; Vischer guesses that interacting with superiors in uniform makes him anxious now. After they talk a little, he hesitantly asks, "Does it ever go away...?" Even without asking what "it" is, Vischer knows exactly what he's asking.

Vischer: *pause* "I'll be honest...it might fade, but it never really goes away. There's a reason I stay here in this house and still don't go out much."

Von Staden: *haltingly* "It just...I can't stop feeling this..." *trails off*

Vischer: *waits* "...Fear?"

Von Staden: "...Rage." *clutches cap tighter* "I don't like being this person. I don't know what to do with so much anger. Is this normal?"

Vischer: "I believe what you're feeling is normal, considering what they put you through. Anyone would be angry."

Von Staden: *takes in & lets out a breath, loosens his grasp a little* "And you say it gets a little bit easier over time?...I won't always be this person?"

Vischer: "I'm not going to give you false hope, Herr von Staden. You'll always be this person. It might get easier, it might not. But you can learn how to cope with it. You can choose what you do with it. They can't take that away from you anymore."

Von Staden thanks Vischer again--"You didn't fix my problem...but it helps, a little bit"--and starts to leave, though Altermann reappears and requests a word in private; Vischer retreats this time, and after Altermann and von Staden exchange a few words, the corporal nods and departs.

Toward the end of the story, things come to a head, and I'm assuming officials decide to make their move not just on Altermann but on Vischer as well. Altermann is tipped off to something about to happen and shows up at Vischer's place to warn him, though the warning comes too late for them to escape, and officials arrive with the intent not to take them into custody but to finish them off--with the country descending into chaos, nobody in a position to do anything about it will much notice a couple more extrajudicial killings. Altermann puts himself between Vischer and the advancing soldiers, insisting that he still owes his debt and "I'm the reason you're in this mess, anyway," despite Vischer's own insistence that he's the one who helped get Altermann in trouble. Result, as soon as the soldiers hired to kill them break into where they've barricaded themselves, Altermann is hit, though he does shoot their attackers first. He manages to spare Vischer from getting killed but is too badly wounded to fend off the next soldier who rushes in; all he gets to do is shout for Vischer to get running as well. Vischer hesitates--he knows if he runs, Altermann will be killed instead--yet just as the gunman enters, spots them, and raises his weapon--something slams into him, knocking him to the floor. Vischer watches dumbfounded as von Staden grasps the other soldier by the collar and bangs his head against the floor repeatedly, snarling the entire time and not letting up until he's no longer moving.

Once they've ascertained that nobody else is in the house yet surely more are on their way, Vischer takes a moment to gather a few items, hurry outside to the patio, fire a flare into the sky, then hurry back in. He and von Staden half-drag, half-carry the badly wounded Altermann into another room where they barricade themselves in again; von Staden stations himself nearest the doors, saying, "I can try to hold them off, but I'm only one." Still, he insists on trying his best. Vischer is left tending to Altermann's wound with the few medical supplies he grabbed. He asks what von Staden is doing there and what is going on. Altermann says that as soon as he was sure the officials were going to make their move, he headed to Vischer's house to try to protect him, but not before calling von Staden's home and requesting him to come out, too. The last time they met, he spoke privately to von Staden, telling him that if he truly felt he owed them a debt--"I do," von Staden had confirmed--then he could make himself available when Altermann might have need of a favor: "I don't have anything in mind just yet, but there might come a time when I need your help, and need to know how to most quickly contact you." Von Staden had replied that during the day he could contact his supervising officer--though still going on occasional missions, he'd been mostly working at a desk since returning to the Wehrmacht--whereas after hours he could be reached at his parents' house. He promised to come, no matter why Altermann might call him. And now here they all are.

Von Staden reports that he can hear others coming: "I'm pretty sure I can handle a few, but not all of them." Altermann suggests they go out the window and leave him, yet Vischer and von Staden both refuse; likewise, when von Staden suggests Vischer try to get Altermann out of there while he fends off the others, they refuse. Vischer protests most loudly when the other two say he should go. It's obvious that whatever happens, they're all going down together. Vischer fetches his rifle and stations himself beside Altermann while von Staden crouches near the door. A moment later, the door starts shaking as somebody starts ramming against it. "Get ready," von Staden says--when the window behind the other two shatters just as the door bursts in as well. Von Staden promptly starts shooting into the hall; Vischer manages to fire at the soldier coming in the window, but his rifle jams before he can get the next one. "My gun! My gun!" Altermann shouts; Vischer makes a grab for his pistol when Altermann lets out a startled yell and recoils--Vischer looks back up in time to see the soldier who'd just climbed in jerk back, gargling, head twisting at an impossible angle. He topples forward and hits the floor, hard. Vischer blinks--Silver is in the window now instead, and he drops in, pulls his own pistol and fires. Von Staden flinches a little but then apparently shrugs off his confusion when a handful of Trench Rats rather than German soldiers drop through the window and start fighting off those coming through the door--right in time, as von Staden's run out of rounds and was about to use his bare hands. Vischer, unprompted, grabs Altermann and starts trying to pull him to his feet when one of the soldiers who'd been shot pushes himself up, wheezing, and lifts his gun--only for von Staden to fall upon him and slam his head into the floor just like before, screaming with rage. Altermann yelps--Reseda pulls him up, and Vischer hurries to help--they struggle to get back out the window, where more of the Rats are waiting to receive them. "Von Staden!" Vischer shouts, and von Staden drops the limp soldier and hurries after them. He and Altermann seem perplexed by the Trench Rats' presence but there's no time to explain; they rush off together while the other Rats continue firing on the remaining soldiers.

They take shelter in the nearby woods, where Vischer knew the Rats were most likely to be concealed when he set off the flare. As everyone regroups, he breathlessly explains that he's the one who signaled for them. Altermann and especially von Staden are uneasy about this, though Altermann says he's already on the Nazis' hit list, and as for von Staden, "What real difference does it make?--they think I'm a traitor already anyway!" he says sourly. It's now Altermann's and Vischer's turn to be surprised when they learn that, following his release, von Staden was recruited by his own sister--to quietly fight back against the Nazis. He's been sabotaging their efforts ever since: "I love my Fatherland, but I hate this garbage that's taken it over. They want to punish me for something I never did, I may as well go through with it." Witnessing conditions in the camps firsthand, and contrasting that with the sanitized stories passed along to the outside, only strengthened his decision to turn on the Reich: "I didn't do anything to belong in there," he says, "and neither did anyone else." Despite this, both he and Altermann still consider themselves faithful to Germany, and are reluctant to go with the Trench Rats; Silver suggests they be treated as prisoners of war. Von Staden bristles at the idea but Vischer calms him down with the guarantee that the Americans will definitely treat them better than the SS did. Although still skeptical, Altermann and von Staden take Vischer at his word, and the three accompany the Rats back to their Headquarters.

Vischer, Altermann, and von Staden are kept relatively safe in Trench Rat custody; Altermann is taken to the medical ward for treatment, and while there, von Staden volunteers to help out, saying he has basic medical training and wishes to be useful. Nurse Lyndsey Skye replies that they're short a set of hands (Indigo Rat), so, scrub in, and von Staden does so and starts assisting with the other wounded. Burgundy Rat tends to Altermann's wound; he's weak and has lost a lot of blood but should make it. Vischer is allowed to see him afterward and, relieved, says, "I believe our debt is settled now." They determine that von Staden's debt is settled as well, as Altermann saved Vischer, and von Staden saved them both. "It feels a little bit odd now that it's over," Altermann muses groggily, "rather saddening, really, and...anticlimactic?" He adds that he still feels like he owes Vischer, and when he returns from his duties, von Staden says the same. "Maybe we'll just always feel like we owe," he suggests, "like nothing we do will ever be enough." It's a sobering realization, yet one they figure they have to accept. "Well, it's not like it's the end of everything," Altermann says; "we'll still keep in touch, of course, ja?" Vischer and von Staden both agree...as odd as it is, the three of them consider themselves good friends by now, and the fall of the Reich shouldn't spell the end of that as well.

Von Staden is informed by the Rats that they have his sister in custody; a group of resistance members has been brought in for questioning in case any Nazis are attempting to hide among them, and Mahogany Rat recognized the name von Staden--the sullen young woman lit up immediately when Adalard was mentioned, and asked to see him. Brother and sister are reunited at Trench Rat Headquarters, hugging and kissing foreheads repeatedly. Von Staden admonishes his sister for having taken shelter among the other resistance members--"Have you any idea the danger you put yourself in?"--which she throws right back in his face--"Take a look at you, you're a prisoner of war! Again!" Still, they're tearful and obviously relieved to see each other still alive; Mahogany tells them, when they ask, that they don't know the fate of their parents just yet, but will let them know if they're found. "We have each other till then," von Staden says. His sister asks the Rats if she can stay with him and is allowed to do so.

Vischer decides to stay with Altermann until he recovers, becoming his shadow the way Altermann was once his (granted, he kind of has to stick around the captain, as he risks suffering a panic attack should he leave his company for too long). The Trench Rats keep them in custody as everything is settled following the war's end; it's bittersweet to the three to be on the losing side, yet each had disapproved of the regime in his own way, so the collapse of the Third Reich itself is no real loss. What is to become of them afterwards is more of a concern; Vischer's freedom is pretty much guaranteed (he wasn't in military service, and remained largely neutral), though the fate of Altermann and von Staden, being former members of the Wehrmacht, is rather up in the air. The Wehrmacht is dissolved and Germany is stripped of its military, leaving both of them without any position; von Staden is quickly cleared of the need for denazification due to his resistance efforts, and has no interest in further military service, so returns to the family estate with his sister. (Their parents are another issue.)

This leaves Altermann, who, while he did help both Vischer and von Staden, didn't technically assist in the resistance, and essentially remained faithful to the Heer until the end. He resigns himself to having to face a military tribunal and possible prison sentence. Vischer and von Staden both vehemently speak up on his behalf, however; and questioning other prisoners and rescuees, including the labor camp commandant and several of Altermann's former coworkers, just confirms that while he was loyal to the army, he can't be proven to have participated in any overtly criminal activities, plus he gave plenty of signs of undermining the Reich whenever possible: "Were it up to me, meine Herren, I'd've had him hanged the moment he left my camp," mutters the commandant, facing a death sentence himself. The Trench Rats provide their own documentation verifying all this, and the Allies decide to focus their attention on bigger fish, so Altermann is let go without a trial. He's surprised to escape any consequences, though Vischer isn't: "Is it really so difficult for you to believe you're a decent man?" "Ja, well..." Altermann replies with a shrug, "...so are you, though I know it'll take far more than me telling you for you to believe it."

I'm not sure if Altermann joins the Bundeswehr when it forms later on, though I think he does, as unlike the other two, he likes the daily grind of bureaucracy. Vischer returns home and Altermann keeps his promise of visiting often. Von Staden stops by to speak with Vischer as well, asking if it would be all right for him to visit every so often just to talk; he explains that Vischer's words have helped him somewhat, and he would like for them to remain in touch: "Maybe I presume, but I like to hope we are friends." Touched, Vischer replies that von Staden is welcome to visit whenever he wishes; he'll always have time to talk to him. Reseda says goodbye, heartbroken by Silver's disappearance at the end of the war; Vischer gives him a brief embrace and tells him to look after himself: "I hope you find peace with yourself someday," he murmurs before the Trench Rat departs for the United States.

Vischer watches from afar as Germany is divided among the Allies; eventually Altermann convinces him to accompany him west, as the Soviets are taking over this area and Altermann suspects they'll be safer elsewhere, especially since he hopes to return to the military. Vischer hates to leave his beloved home, but, knowing the land is likely to be seized and divided as well--it helps that the von Stadens have also decided to head out--he takes his friend's advice, and relocates to a country home in the west. Although it's far from perfect and isn't quite the outcome he'd hoped for, he remains in touch with the people who matter, and is relatively content.

[Vischer 2023 [‎Friday, ‎July ‎28, ‎2023, ‏‎2:00:54 AM]]

[transcendence-through-exposure]

Hello and welcome to my page (If anyone does see this) i want to start with an introduction.

let's just say my name is D and with alot of years of battling my own demons, I've finally have an understanding with them to live in balance with myself. i would delete all the posts I shared but after looking at them i realized how depressed i really was growing up. It's a place in my mind i had forgotten about until recently and has been building up for some time now, so I've come here to share.

For some reason it's a trigger to be asked if I'm okay. I can't fully say im happy, but im at a point where i just can't feel emotions like i used to. I tried the whole emotion thing after being numb for so long... And so far it's only caused problems. for example, I've recently opened myself to have new friends ( because I've only ever hung out with the same group of friends since i was a child.)

Lets say i work with music not gonna be too specific but i ended up working with a fundraising group who i will not name and discovered the world of sober bars. I don't wanna say i had a problem with alcohol or drugs but i realized what i had been doing to myself but that's another story i will share, I'm currently 5 years off drugs and 3 years no alcohol or soda (nothing too hardcore) just liked to party when i was younger guess it was a coping mechanism for me and when someone close passed i went down a spiral it was the only thing that kept me numb. I used to love that numb feeling and the flavor of alcohol.. i miss it sometimes but im definitely a better person without it. growing up i was always around alcohol, drugs, and gang members. Back in the day it wasn't entirely safe in my neighborhood but im getting off subject again so i will definitely write about that in a later blog.

Back to what i was talking about long story short i let people into my circle and i guess for some reason i have this tendency to wanna help people when i have nothing to give a quote i always remember is " never pour from an empty cup" and i like to say " im not a cup. I'm the person who guides the water to the cup." Meaning im here to build you up, a way to turn the flow to fill up the cups of others. I don't know if I'll ever have a true happiness. again, it's a trigger and truly makes me cry sometimes even though im usually really good with not feeling anything.

Kinda why i started my career in music. It was a new version of me that i chose in my pursuit of happiness. I can honestly say if it wasn't for music i wouldn't be here right now. it's better than any drug or alcohol and gave the feeling of pure serenity. I want to show people that there's a world that cares for you even when there's no one around. When you need that conversation but dont have anyone to talk to. It's crazy to think that a total stanger can talk through this beautiful art to your soul and be able to heal from it.

I think that's enough for tonight it's about 3AM and started this on the beach (where i usually go to throw all my negative thoughts). I'm tired, ive been more tired than usually recently but i don't let it stop me from getting things done most of the time i dont want to. but i always push myself to get it done. Growing up depressed i learned to cope with it so i really dont feel emotions as hard as I used to

ps. Im not sad or happy im just good enough to get through everyday knowing that we're all destined for greatness, I'm more at peace with myself and understand my feelings. Im self centered, in balance with my thoughts and emotions. hope i can help others whether it be a story, music or personal poetry.

Ok now im done, Thank you so much for reading, hope to see you again peace and love ☯️ .

[heartfullofleeches]

I am….. in lOVE with Maddox

like I know we don’t have a lot of info on him at the mo but he is the love of my entire life (after life??)

Anyway I read your entire blog in one afternoon and I am just about to combust with all the love I have for your writings,,, if possible could I request some head canons on our dear reaper boy, please? (Maybe some NSFW content if you feel like it) thank you I appreciate and love you

Yandere Grim Reaper Oc Cannons (Nsfw + art at bottom)

(An: this became kind of a lore dump as some point)

Maddox is nonbinary (he/they)

They’re not shy, just… distant. It’s been so long since he has been around another being human or otherwise for as long as he’s been with you. As such, they find it hard to express their feelings to you and avoid you unintentionally due to trying to figure things out. Will still your belongings if you ever leave them about since he does long to be by your side 

His favorite thing item would have to be the jacket he constantly wears. They found it in your closet and something about it brings them so much joy. Maybe it’s because it reminds them of your warmth, and they have so little of their own. They have trouble sleeping if they’re not wearing it 

Since he’s used to death and despair, any positive emotion of yours sends them over the moon with joy. As a reverse, they think they struggles to comfort you in times of turmoil, but experiences with grief lead them to be a decent hand to hold

They are technically the “baby" of the grim reapers. In the lore of this universe, there are grim reapers and angels who take on the role of them as well. Grim reapers are separate from God’s creations and in charge of watching the sands of time as well as guiding lost souls to their final destination. Angels only guide them. Their official title is Twelve as they are the twelfth and known last reaper. 

Despite the last point, they tend to lose track of time quite easily in the mortal realm, especially when they are with you. Holding you for seconds feels like hours, yet that still isn’t enough for him to be satisfied.

They don’t like their human form as they were seriously injured in it in the past.

Honestly, I would argue he is the most deadly of the three living with you. While they wouldn’t outright kill a human that took a fancy to you, they would be more willing for things to happen to the hourglass attached to said person; even if it’s against the rules. On top of this, prolonged exposure to life causes odd things to happen to it, such as their lifespan jumping forward or backwards and on rare near fatal accidents. You are safe from this as you have his heart; both literally and metaphorically. He will watch your admirers soul drown into inexistence within the sands of time, unsure why it brings them peace. 

When a soul is lost there or devoured that person’s existence is erased completely. They’ll do their best to comfort you and sweep off any fleeting memories as mere dreams or memories of a friend long gone.

On a final and lighter note, they enjoy spicy foods the most

(These next cannons are nsfw. Stop here if you don’t wish to see.)

With the fact they’ve haven’t around anyone in ages, they don’t know the touch of another either. On top of that, feelings such as lust and bodily desires are new as he’s never taken human form for long. Would probably get aroused from just your first kiss.

He may do research, but would prefer you guide them yourself and let them know how to carcass you properly. You are their first, their only; they want to give you want you need as moreso.

They are notably more submissive than anything, and somewhat hesitant to touch you. These hands have only held misfortune and decay, it almost doesn’t feel right to be able to hold something like you. Aside from that, most of their fantasies just happen to involve you taking them under your control with them 

Upon becoming more comfortable overtime, they can’t keep their hands from roaming all over your body. Groping your chest, locking around your thighs; even smaller things like just holding onto yours as enough for him.

Another thing is that he lives for praise. Tell him that he’s doing a good job, promise that you’ll never leave. They come bashful that such simple words get them going so easily, but the emotions that fill them upon hearing are too great. 

[agentofscifi]

Success is the Best Kind of Revenge Ch. 3

Heels click onto the floor of my office as Chloe pushes open my doors. My hands were currently holding up the train of a dress hung on Juleka. Alix follows after Chloe, tinkering with some kind of camera in her hand. Over the years, as we all graduated from University and done pretty well for ourselves.  

Juleka ended up changing her major in school after three semesters. Instead of going into performing arts for instruments, she went and got a composition degree. Juleka wrote music for a variety of artists and was one of the most sought-after songwriters. When she wasn’t doing all of that, she was modeling for my company. Juleka did a variety of photoshoots for several companies, mine included throughout her University Years. After I opened up my first few stores, we signed a formal contract. She’d been working for me for almost a decade. She split her time between Paris and Nashville in America. 

Alix decides to focus on a degree in art history. She worked at an Auction House company in Paris, moving between the various countries of Europe to authenticate pieces of art and then handle their sales. She was rather successful at her work, earning many bonuses for rather extremely successful sales. Alix’s unique style and comfortable professionalism made her easily approachable to buyings. She was rather blunt, and it did her well in her job. On her off-hours, Alix did some minor modeling and promoting much of my athletic pieces. Alix’s popularity grew as she competed in several X-Games in and after university. She won several titles in skateboarding, BMX freestyling, rollerskating, and snowboarding before retiring after a slip-up when snowboarding. She shattered her kneecap, broke a leg, her collarbone, and dislocated her arm in two places. She still did BMX biking, skateboarding, rollerblading, and snowboarding, just not in a professional capacity. That being said, little kids still asked for her autographs all the time.  

Chloe graduated from the London Business School with Honors and then proceeded to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York to get a Graduate Degree in Global Fashion Management. She modeled some of my designs, worked connections, handled all my brand’s social media accounts, and finalized contracts. Now, she had several people working underneath her, to handle the day-to-day operations. Either way, Chloe handled all of the Brand’s business dealings and flourishes.  

As for me, I attend the London College of Fashion. I got a Bachelor’s Degree in Fashion Design and Development with honors. After those years, I went to Milan to attend Istituto Marangoni International for a Master’s Degree in Luxury Accessories Design & Management. After that, I relocated back to Paris. My first boutique opened up quickly after that along with a small factory with a loan from a bank. I ended up having to open a second factory within three months due to demands. More boutiques opened up worldwide as the Brand became a household name.  

“Hello Chloe, how is everything?”  

“We got invitations to a reunion for Lycée. Alya sent them, as she was the class representative when we all graduated. Personally, I think she wants to get her hands on you or Juleka for an interview. You know her journalism career is in the gutter.”  

Alix snorts. “And who’s fault is that?” 

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Her’s. The idiot ruined her blog when she was a teenager and she never changed. She still does idiotic and frankly dangerous things to get a scoop. Sure, she does some basic research now, but the girl’s been detained several times for endangering people and disrupting the peace. No University would touch her, and no place will hire her.”  

Alix looks up from the camera. “So, you didn’t inform everyone in the fashion journalism world about her history, knowing it would spread to all major news and journalism networks.  

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Look, this company’s image is important. I was not going to let Miss Blogger ruin it for 15 minutes of fame. She dug her own grave.”  

I sigh. “This is great and all, but are you all going?”  

There’s a snort right behind me. “Not on any of our lives. We will not be sinking that low.”  

“Chloe!” Juleka’s face is red and slightly scandalized.  

“What? Why would we go to this reunion? To see how everyone is doing? It’s rather simple. Alya’s a tabloid writer. Nino is a barely successful DJ who works at a music store to help pay his bills. Max is an IT guy at a company. That fake research paper haunts him to this day. Kim works at a gym. The drugs screwed his athletic chances over and he never planned for anything beyond going to the Olympics. Nathaniel works at an art store and does nighttime classes. He’s unsuccessfully worked with 7 different writers for his comics after leaving Marc.   

Now, Myléne and Ivan are happy, at least. Myléne works as a secretary and Ivan as a grocery store manager. Both are part-time so one of them can stay home with their kids at a time. They have millions of photos of their family on their Instagram accounts. Neither one can do much with charities. The fraud they committed was spread around the charity communities fast.  

Rose, Adrien, and Sabrina are the only ones who did what they wanted to do. Rose had a few years of fame with her music before getting married and settling down as a youth music teacher. Adrien moved to America and works for a University. However, I know for a fact that he will not be returning to Paris for anything less than a funeral or a wedding. As for Sabrina, after some therapy, ended up as a Detective in Marseille.”  

“Didn’t you pay for her therapy?” I tie off my last stitch and let the train fall to the platform.  

Chloe purses her lips. “I owed her that much. I screwed her childhood up, majorly.”  

“Did you stalk everyone to find out all of this?” Alix has a mischievous look.  

Another eye roll from Chloe. “I didn’t need to. In this day and age, all you need to do is type their name into the internet and all of their social media pops up.”  

I hum. “What about Lila?”  

“She’s still in prison. Tried another appeal a little while ago, to no avail. Her long list of offenses and the “assisting a terrorist” change isn’t something any judge would want to touch, even with a 10 ft pole.”  

Juleka simply shrugs. “Back to the point at hand. I’m not going to this reunion. Rose is the only one I wanted to keep in contact with, and she’s not going. It’s her five-year anniversary with her husband. She’s going to Spain that week.”  

Alix shugs. “I’m not going either. Kim has tried to contact me so many times to help him get back into the sports world. I am not giving him another chance. Besides, there’s this huge auction going on in Russia for that week. I am not missing that for a few hours with our childhood classmates.”  

I look at Chloe. She raises a perfect eyebrow. “Not a chance and you are not going either. Heavens forbid Alya posts something on that new blog of hers.”  

I set my needle and thread down on a work table and gesture to Juleka to get changed. “I’m not going if none of you are. Besides, there’s this fashion show in Milan that weekend. It’s for freshly graduated designers to show off their talents to possible employers. I was planning to go to find some who would specialize in Fashion Contour. I’ve been doing quite a bit of work in that field and want to get a fresh pair of eyes that will eventually take over that area of our brand. I was also hoping to look for someone to start a Make-up department. One of your people mentioned the idea at a meeting.”  

Chloe nods and starts to type into her phone. “I’ll tell my assistant to look through the applications we have to see if anyone fulfills the requirements for that job. Just find that new department head.”  

I give Chloe a nod as Juleka hands me the dress from before. A custom-made wedding dress for a woman who happened to be Juleka’s exact size. One of the many I had made of the years since I’d started my fashion business.   

Some part of me wanted to thank Lila. If I was honest with myself, I wouldn’t be where I was if she hadn’t arrived at my class and taken everyone’s loyalty. They weren’t bad people, but thanks to Ms. Bustier, they were a drain on my energy and abilities. Now, however, I was one of the most well-known and successful fashion designers with over two dozen people for me in Design. I could not be happier. 

Ch. 1 ~~~~~ Ch. 2

[unholyplumpprincess]

Donna Beneviento Headcanons

Gonna be doing all the Lords and Ladies! Alcina Dimitrescu and Karl Heisenberg done!

!Minors and ageless blogs dni, this is an adult work!

Warnings: R18+/NSFT below the cut, SFW above the cut, reader is gn and ambiguous, mentions of somno and consensual drugging

__________

• Angie serves almost like a best friend to her, so in sync that her thoughts are Angie’s. Though most people think that Angie is a projection of Donna’s voice, it’s more like her most internal thoughts without any social guidelines hindering her. Making Angie say things like when seeing someone’s cleavage. “Woah get a load of THOSE honkers.” while Donna herself would obviously Not say that aloud.

• After her parents passed, due to the trauma of it all Donna completely locked herself away- save for traveling to the other Lords’ and Ladies’ estates when needed. Agoraphobia prevents her from going pretty much anywhere else, but she did used to visit the local farmer who sheared sheep and alpacas and spun their own yarn and fabrics. And the local farmer that sold leathers.

• Donna is very anxious and quiet, non-verbal and finding it difficult to find her voice. Angie normally fills any silences that may happen, but even then sometimes she says things that have Donna scrambling to cover her mouth and shake her head, furiously blushing beneath her veil all the while.

• Donna enjoys all arts and crafts- not just doll making or sewing. But she likes knitting, coloring, painting, drawing, gardening, and even writing poetry. As far as knitting, sometimes she catches herself making baby clothes and smiling down at them. They normally end up being altered to fit a doll, but during Rose’s brief stay with her she had been delighted that some of the clothes she had made fit her. It also made it Incredibly hard for her to let her go until Mother Miranda snapped at her.

• As a lover, Donna is so gentle and giving. She speaks with her body and her hands, or Angie being her voice when she is unable. Normally Angie is more blunt than she ever would be, but if her partner finds Angie enjoyable then well, Donna’s hooked.

• Donna has spent so long alone that she’s mastered cooking. Being able to cook FOR someone is a dream come true! But that means she does a lot more baking and cooking, tending to watch you while fussing with her own fingers and clearly anxious about your reaction. You can always feel her beaming in the room when you compliment or say you especially like something.

• Donna’s love languages are physical affection and gift giving, emphasis on gift giving. She wants to make you clothes, buy you them, cook for you, feed you, sit with you, spend time with you. If you like your alone time- you may need to tell her that. She also likes her own solitude, but sometimes she forgets because she likes your presence so much.

• PET NAMES PET NAMES PET NAMES!!! Though Donna would much prefer to call you things in her native tongue and things like ‘My love’ ‘My treasure’ ‘My darling’, Angie tends to use...well...vulgar language. So your most used ones from her are ‘Hot stuff’ ‘Sweet face’ ‘Sugar tits’ and ‘Toots’.

• Despite modern technology, Donna prefers older technology. Including keeping her father’s old record player and records that she constantly plays through the house to keep noise around.

• Due to her mutation, Donna’s ability to secrete a mist that causes deep hallucinations and things like that can also cause other things. But Donna has used this against you in a good way, because when you’re in your ‘dream’ state, she can project herself to you and remove her veil and talk to you. She tells you in those catatonic states about how it’s easier because that isn’t ‘really’ her to her.

!NSFT under cut here!

• Remember what I said about her mist and how she uses it on you? Yeah. She’s also able to finally touch you in that state. And oh, oh is her mouth filthy sometimes when she’s like that. It’s her world, hers to manipulate and shift- and she uses it to her advantage to make herself more confident. Where her lips and teeth can press to you and she can murmur in your ear how long she’s waited to taste you. How she might do it when you sleep tonight and do not stir-

• In real life, Donna does not meet your eye when you are free of that state in the mornings. But you know she’s watching you, watching you rub phantom marks that do not lay on your skin despite you knowing you’d felt her touch there. But you enjoy the way she squeaks when you look at her with a coy little look and a smirk on your lips as if asking her if that’s really how she wanted to play.

• Donna also is...very talented sexually. But not from experience. She has hundreds to thousands of books in her house and a majority of them in her bedroom. A lot are on things like botanicals, foraging, dollmaking, etc. But a lot are of things like sex positions, basic sex ed, to downright raunchy and kinky things and safety behind them. You’re just basically her test dummy for all the things she’s been waiting to do.

• Talented, talented, talented hands. She can make you come undone from them alone. Very soft hands with light callouses on her fingertips and her knuckles scarred over from all her wood working and sewing. Her nails are always trimmed short, something you could simply pass as her needing short nails to work. But now? Now you know better.

• Her top kinks are: Somno, consensual drugging, breeding kink, and shibari. Somno comes from her desire to touch you, but her fear of you seeing her. Plus she just likes how...peaceful you look. Consensual drugging- same thing, but she also feels a sense of power behind it. Breeding is due to her wanting a family, ofc, and shibari is her liking artistic things. And seeing you in such a state, my, she might combust.

• She’s a huge service top. She just wants to please you and make you beg for it. She also enjoys when you’re dreaming with her, and she’s able to slink her fingers into you and brush your lips together and steal every breath and gasp you make as she raspily praises you.

• Be careful of this shy girl. She can only hold herself back so long before she must mark you and claim you as her own.

[ashdumpsterpile]

ASH’S TMA HURT/COMFORT/FLUFF REC LIST 

For the gays. (And @damcrows who’s been dead for the past 24 hours. Rest in peace babe. Read some gay fic. Deny the inevitability of canon. <3)

___

the end, but the start (of all things that are left to do)  by @ajkal2

Jon wakes up.

aka. mag200 tore out my heart

(Very smol, very short, very spoiler. Def recommend for anyone who just finished the podcast.)

remind me how to smile by @tamerofdarkstars

Jon is probably fine, just hiding out somewhere while the whole murder thing blows over and that's... fine. Martin is fine with that explanation. Really. He's got plenty to distract himself - like listening through the entire What the Ghost episode library, for example. Or watching Georgie Barker's Instagram livestreams.

(Yea this was in the last rec list, but you don’t understand THE ADMIRAL GIVES CUDDLES)

Chamomile by Dribbledscribbles

Whatever the ex-tea was, if it really had ever been that last bag of chamomile Martin claimed he’d found tucked in the back of the cupboard, it was fast now.

Martin had tried catching it, chasing it, blocking its way with shoebox lids and plates and an upended footstool, but the thing was just too quick. Jon knew as well as Knew that he might have left off the attempts completely if not for the creature’s preferred game.

The game was, See How Many Times I Can Push Martin Towards Cardiac Arrest Before He Comes at Me with The Broom.

(Scottish Honeymoon Era. Adorable and weird. A vampire gets harassed.)

hey stranger by @ennuijpg

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Martin runs into Jon at the grocery store and has an existential crisis.)

roses roses, roses. by @judesstfrancis

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses. 

(Canon enemies to friends to lovers au-ish. Martin POV. Very pining much sweet.)

go softly by doomcountry

And there is nothing else besides this. 

(More hurt/comfort than fluff. Scottish Honeymoon Era. Mild eye mutilation.)

Not Alone by @backofthebookshelf

After the coffin, Daisy and Jon are both fragile. They hold each other up. 

(Post-buried Jon&Daisy starter pack. Very hurt/comfort.)

trust my love by antlsepticeye

“you… you’re real, aren’t you?” jon whispers, the fog slowly dissipating from his mind. “it is not a trick?”

“i’m here,” martin says softly, reaching up to grab jon’s hand that was resting on his cheek, intertwining his fingers with jon’s and squeezing. he moves jon’s hand to martin’s chest, resting it over his heart. “you’re alright. i’m alright. take your time, love. let’s just take some deep breaths, okay?”

(TOUCHSTARVED JON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT.)

reaching out by Athina_Blaine

By the time things settled, when Martin had finally managed to crack through his cold shell, feel some of his old self returning to him in bits and pieces, they had found their little routine.

One that had the two of them sleeping in the same bed, making breakfast, going to the mart. Where Jon reached for his wrist while they slept, and Martin luxuriated in the gentle warmth of his fingers.  

But not one where Martin reached back. One that had Martin kissing Jon awake or taking his hand over the breakfast table, because ... Martin never had the courage to try. And then it never became a part of the routine.

And Martin desperately wanted it to be.

-

Martin and Jon have an important conversation.

(More Scottish Honeymoon Era for the soul. Hurt/comfort/fluff.)

Belabor by @janekfan​

Jon's given the position of Archivist and is falling apart at the seams. Tim and Sasha are upset and playing games. Elias is overbearing and manipulative.

And poor Martin is stuck cleaning up the mess.

(THEE first fic I ever read for tma. Season 1, hurt/comfort/fluff, and hints of Jmartin. janekfan is the absolute master of seasons 1-3 hurt/comfort. This is my favorite, but pls check out the rest of their fics.)

tea, blankets, and a damnable stubborn attitude by ivelostmyspectacles

“Are you really gonna stay here and pester Jon all evening?”

“I’m not pestering him,” Martin retorted, sounding vehement if not busy going through the cupboards. “I’m heating up soup.”

“Oh, you might as well make him another cup of tea while you’re at it.”

“Oh, good idea.”

Jon shot Tim a withering look.

(The one where Jon is ill, Martin makes tea and they watch doctor who together. Fluff 1000%.)

A Kind Hand by @voiceless-terror

Jonathan Sims was adjusting just fine, thank you very much.

In which a minor workplace spill causes Jon to realize that he might have friends.

(Ah yes, the other master of seasons 1-3 fic aka voiceless-terror being my other fav author in the fandom. This one is also season 1 hurt/comfort/fluff.)

A Weather In The Flesh by @cuttoothed

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

*

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

(More touched starved Jon! Much hurt/comfort!)

Something Old, Something New by @cirrus-grey

Months have passed, and everyone is doing better than they were. Daisy and Basira are getting married, Melanie is feeling her old self, Georgie is as much herself as she has ever been, and even Jon has stabilized on his wild fall away from humanity. Everyone is doing better.

Well. Almost everyone.

(Daisy/Barsira wedding! Melanie is a bitch and we love her! Jmartin dance! Post-canon (almost) everyone lives!)

The Weight of Love by @voiceless-terror

Jon is a restless sleeper. Martin attempts to adjust. 

(The fic where Jon is literally me and Martin attempts to sleep for 1k words.)

The Art of Conversation by @voiceless-terror

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Jon has a complicated relationship with words. Difficulties come and go.

(Jon has adhd and Martin is in love.)

Novelty by @backofthebookshelf

Jon experiences A Sexual Attraction; Martin has A Concern. They figure it out.

(Any fic that explores the ace spectrum is a 10/10. We stan all ace interpretations of jon on this blog.)

Half a Hug by Dathen

I know you weren’t going to hurt me, I trust you, he said again and again. And then a different kind of fear shone through, hollow and echoing: “Please don’t stop touching me."

-

Or: Life is hard when you're touch-starved but have trauma related to your closest friend.  Spoilers through TMA 132.

(Honestly bless every author who saw jon&daisy and was like. They’re siblings. No I will not elaborate.)

the loneliness never left me (but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company) by Athina_Blaine

It was about Martin making Jon feel safe, treasured, and loved. And it had been so, so long since anyone made him feel that way.

And, in the face of it all, Jon was starting to flounder.

(At this point I just need to make separate rec list for Scottish Honeymoon Era.)

you can watch me corrode by scarletfish

"So, how long have you been pulling this shit then?"

"I… excuse me?" Jon’s indignant, certain she can’t mean what he thinks she means.

"When was the last time you ate?"

(Georgie decides Jon and Melanie need a normal day off. Jon learns that he and Melanie have more in common than he thought.)

(Look, Melanie isn’t my favorite person in tma, but she and Jon are like THE SAME PERSON and I adore fics that elaborate on their relationship.)

Out of the Wind, In From the Cold by @ostentenacity

There are two bedrooms in the safehouse, and two beds.

For a moment, Jon considers asking to share, but decides against it with a wince. “I really loved you,” Martin had told him. Loved. Past tense. And Martin doesn’t exactly have a lot of choices right now in terms of company; it would be cruel to demand he play at feelings he no longer has just to make Jon happy.

(For a moment, Martin considers asking to share. But he dismisses the idea with a shake of his head. Jon has already done so much for him. Martin isn’t about to ask for more, especially not when it’s something he doesn’t really need. He has his right mind back, and he has Jon’s friendship. That should be enough for him. It’ll have to be.)

---

Jon thinks that Martin doesn’t love him. Martin thinks that Jon doesn’t love him. They do not, of course, discuss this. Unrequited love is already awkward enough, right? No need to dwell on it.

(THEE SCOTTISH HONEYMOON ERA FIC. IT’S ABOUT THE PINING, BEING MUTUALLY OBLIVIOUS AND FALLING IN LOVE. 10000/10.) 

I Do by @voiceless-terror

“I, um- this was supposed to be a lot more romantic, I swear.” Martin looks down at the dirty bar floor. “I had it all planned out, I-I was going to take you somewhere nice, and then we’d go for a walk in the square- I’ll still do it!” He hurries to explain, as if that’s the most pressing part of this situation. “It’ll be really nice, I’ve already hired a photographer-”

In a fit of protectiveness, Martin proposes to Jon.

(Everyone lives, Martin accidentally proposes and Jon is crying in public.) 

________

[many-but-one]

Welcome to Many but One

"We are many, you are but one!" -Ermac, Mortal Kombat

If you ever want to talk or ask questions, feel free to! We love making system friends. Bodily adult, however, so keep that in mind. We also use part-speak! And prefer to call alters parts, but we do switch up when semantics calls for it. We are also shooting for functional multiplicity but are open to final fusion if that occurs.

The Basics:

-Mid 20s

-They/them or he/him pronouns collectively

-Very often go by "Many" in online spaces, it's a shortening of our system name, Many but One. If you see mutuals call us that, that's why😂

-HC-DID. Polyfrag, alter number unknown

-formerly programmed system, now fully deprogrammed. Questions about the deprogramming process are always allowed, but any advice taken is not my responsibility. You know yourself best, don’t take my advice if it doesn’t fit your experiences or could possibly cause you harm

-blanket TW for OEA and Intentional Torture Based Conditioning (ITBC) related abuse, though we always tag our content with “[trigger] tw” if there is triggering content involved. If we miss a tag, feel free to respectfully point it out and we will fix the mistake.

-dx’d by a DID specialist with over 20 years in the field.

-Syscourse unaligned. I support endos existing, but I do think endos and traumagenic systems have very different experiences and should have their own spaces. Not that we can’t also co-exist, but the fact we’ve been fighting over a proverbial “No Man’s Land” for well over a decade now and have gotten nowhere with it, I feel like it would be better if we all stopped fighting and just tried to exist apart in peace. Regardless, I try to stay the fuck out of syscourse because that is such a minefield these days. I'll just stick with my educational posts, silly memes, and vent art lol.

-some popular tags of ours include: #manybutone, #advice, #positivity, and #answered asks

-we block people without warning and likely won’t give a reason. We have a right to curate our online experience, and blocking is a “no-contact” boundary we are allowed to set at anytime.

-asks and DMs open anytime, but we aren’t looking to be anyone’s friend. Nothing personal, we just have trust issues and aren’t good at making friends, especially online.

-if you wanna be moots and we haven’t followed you back you are free to DM or send an ask to mutual you. We will not be weirded out or offended by that! We love having mutuals. Just know if we aren’t into your blog we won’t follow you back, so don’t expect us to do so just because you ask.

I have two things on my DNI:

-Tumblr anons who want me to dx them or validate their experiences. Here’s why. I am fine with DMs, but if you send an anon asking these things I will delete, period. This includes “does this count as ramcoa?” questions. You can ask about your experiences, but I will not dx said experiences. I’m not your therapist and I don’t know you.

-People trying to tell me sharing about Intentional Torture Based Conditioning (ITBC) or my traumas is bad or has “made” them take unsafe action in therapy and healing. My content is not a diagnostic tool and you are responsible for what you take in and what you do with that information. All of my content is properly trigger warned so you can avoid things that are not helpful to you or could be actively harmful to you. I, an internet stranger, am not responsible for the actions you take with my content in mind. I take very special precautions to make sure my content (aside from my poetry or trauma-talk, which is always TW’d extensively) is as safe as possible for systems trying to deprogram. If you notice that my content isn’t good for you or your healing journey, just block me. It’s really that simple. Don’t try to tell me how I should heal or how I should run my platform.

Some posts I've made that I think are good for newcomers to take a look at first.

Some basic info about our diagnosis journey and about DID: link

What fusion feels like from the perspective of two former hosts who fused: link

An informational post about the truth behind the origins of the False Memory Foundation and how False Memory Syndrome has been thoroughly debunked: link

My journey of learning about parts (from the beginning of this blog to July 2024): link (BTW this shit is heavy and really shows the ugly sides of DID. It shows the steady decline in thinking you "only" have 15 parts to realizing you were part of OEA/ITBC related abuse and have thousands of alters.)

Not a post that we made, but a post by someone else, explaining the new community term to replace “mind control” programming, Intentional Trauma Based Psychological Conditioning (ITBPC). I personally use an amended version, ITBC (Intentional Torture Based Conditioning)

Not mine, but a post by SAS that debunks the RAMCOA is Antisemitic Controversy.

SAS did another deeper dive on the same topic. Great read!

Red Cloud Divider Credit by @rpinkling (highly recommend looking into them, their dividers are very cool!)

[ddaengtae]

a bit much || myg

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: college, enemies? to lovers, a wee bit of angst, smut

word count: 16.9k (lmao sorry)

summary: it’s your senior year of college.  after surviving three years, nothing could surprise you, right?  wrong.  you can’t seem to catch a minute of peace from the moment the beautiful, yet utterly obnoxious min yoongi decides to sit in the seat next to you in one of your lectures and takes every opportunity he can get to pester you.  he’s just doing this to piss you off, right? (or maybe he’s an awkward idiot).

a/n: i’ve written for quite a few other fandoms in the past, but this is my first bts piece i’ve actually decided to publish here after transitioning this blog into bts trash.  this has been a work in progress since yoongi decided to hit us with that daechwita video and give me all the feels.  would love to hear your feedback.  sorry if there’s any typos but enjoy!!!

Senior year of college was here.  The last first day of classes you would ever experience was upon you.  The fact that you had made it this far felt almost close to miraculous; taking into account all of the late-night library mental breakdowns, near-death drunk experiences, and relationship drama, it was shocking that you had made it this far in one piece.  Yet here you were, seated in a familiar, large lecture hall preparing for the first day of a history gen-ed class.  Why hadn’t you listened to everyone else and gotten all of your gen-eds out of the way freshman year?  That would have been the smart thing to do, leaving you to take all fun classes for your final year.  The class was probably going to be full of freshmen, too eager to befriend a lonesome senior such as yourself with the hopes of coercing you to buy them alcohol or invite them to upperclassmen parties.  Cringe.  And yet here you were.

As you spread your neatly-labeled notebook and color-coordinated pens out in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel someone’s eyes burning into the side of your head.  Oh no.  Had the freshmen already scoped you out as obviously older than them and an easy target?  Class hadn’t even started yet.  Chewing on your lower lip, you tilted your head to the side slightly and allowed your eyes to meet those of the unknown source.  Immediately, your breath hitched in your throat.

There before you stood Min Yoongi.  Although the two of you had never met before, you were aware of his existence through mutual friends and word of mouth.  The boy was gorgeous; even with his dark, piercing eyes intimidating you nearly to death, you felt as if you were going to melt into the ground as you took in the features of his face.  A thick red headband pushed his bleached blonde hair out of his face, allowing you to take in more of his perfectly sculpted features.  The plump of his cheeks and lips seemed to contrast the rest of his frightening yet gorgeous attributes, giving the appearance of a sort of twisted innocence.  

“Is somebody sitting here?” the boy interrupted your fantasies in a deep, low voice, motioning to the empty seat to your right.

Blinking a few times to snap back into reality, you shook your head and turned back to your belongings, cheeks tinted pink.  “No, you can have it.”

With a loud slam of his backpack onto the table, he sank into the seat beside you.  As you stared down at your notebook and began to nervously jot down the date and any other unimportant details you could think of, you were quite conscious of the feeling of Yoongi’s eyes studying you.

“Is this history gen-ed or do I have the wrong room?” he tried to question genuinely, but you could hear an amused glimmer in the tone of his voice.  “This whole elaborate set-up you have going on has me thinking this is an art class or something.  It’s a bit much.”

Just as your cheeks had finally started to cool down, the color rushed to them yet again.  The judgement in his voice suddenly had you embarrassed of the organizational skills that you usually took pride in, your instincts making you put your arms up on either side of your notebook and pens in an attempt to block them from his view.  As the judgement settled in, it slowly morphed into a deeper feeling of annoyance.  Sure he was hot, but who did this complete stranger think he was making fun of you?

“Tell that to my grades,” you simply muttered back, the sound of the professor’s voice at the front of the lecture hall cutting you off from indulging further in your irritated thoughts.  Rolling your eyes to yourself, you shifted your body to face the front of the room and clicked down on one of your favorite pens, ready for the start of the new semester.

As you were now occupied with learning the layout of the new course, you missed the way Yoongi’s eyes scanned up and down the side of your face and his lips fell into a lop-sided grin.

The happenings of the first day of class proved to be the beginning of a pattern.  Although the chances of Yoongi coming to class were a hit or miss, whenever he did happen to show up, his behavior was the same.

One day about two weeks into the semester, the boy in question showed up approximately thirty seconds before class was set to begin.  Rather than rush into his seat and shovel out his things, he remained standing for a few moments too long, his eyes traveling up and down your appearance.

“A dress and heels?” Yoongi interrogated, a quiet chuckle slipping through his lips as he finally plopped down into his seat.  His dark eyes searched yours as he raised an eyebrow.  “A bit much for class, don’t you think?”

Sighing to yourself, you smoothed the floral skirt of your yellow sundress out over your thighs.  Couldn’t he ever just let you exist in peace?  “They’re wedges,” you corrected, digging the heel of your shoe into the carpet beneath you to let out some of your frustration.  Feeling a bit braver today than during your first few interactions, you allowed your eyes to rake up and down his body slowly, faking a judgmental look on your face.  The corner of your lips quirked upward slightly as you noticed the way he seemed to freeze in place at your actions.  “Some of us actually enjoy putting a little bit of effort into our appearance, you know.”  A white lie of course, but a necessary one.  Even in his joggers and oversized hoodie, the blonde boy managed to look like a model beside you.

Yoongi’s eyes widened just the slightest bit in surprise at your fighting words, but nonetheless, an amused laugh bubbled through his body.  “Didn’t take you for the feisty type…” he trailed off, tapping the edge of his pen against the table in front of him.  “You loo–”

His voice cut off abruptly as the professor’s voice boomed through the lecture hall, signaling the beginning of class.  Rather than finish his mysterious statement, Yoongi turned to face the front of the room, smiling to himself as he jotted down the date in the corner of his notebook.

Three weeks into the semester, friendship or even acquaintanceship seemed out of the question for you and Yoongi.  Although he was physically still the beautiful boy you had daydreamed about prior to having met him, his personality destroyed any fantasies you had about him being a quiet, misunderstood boy.  It seemed as if though he refused to let you catch a break in class.

As the professor finally dismissed class after what felt like an eternity, you shut your notebook and picked it up off of the table, ready to rush back to your room and indulge in a much-needed nap.  Before you could shove your belongings into your backpack and rush out of the room, Yoongi’s voice cut you off.

“Hey, do you have the notes from last class?” he asked, folding his hands together as he offered you a small smile.  “I was, uh, sick.”

Although his half-assed excuse was clearly complete bullshit, you weren’t exactly in the mood to cause a scene and knew you were more likely to get out of the room faster if you just caved in and let him have at it rather than force him to beg.  “Yeah, sure,” you muttered, opening your notebook to your notes from the previous class and plopping it down in front of him.  “Knock yourself out.”  You wished he literally would.

Digging his phone out of his pocket and opening the camera, Yoongi glanced down at the notes before side-eyeing you with what initially appeared to be an authentic smile spreading across his plump lips.  “You know, I saw something earlier that I think might interest you.”

Was Min Yoongi actually trying to start a genuine conversation with you?  Intriguing, to say the least.  Crossing your arms over your chest, you raised an eyebrow at him.  “Yeah?  What was it?”

His eyes flickered back down to your notes, the once seemingly genuine smile on his lips morphing into a devious smirk.  “I saw a flyer earlier about an art contest happening on campus,” he replied a bit too casually, beginning to take pictures of your notes.  “I’m sure they’d be extremely interested in the artistry and precision of your history gen-ed notes.  Truly a masterpiece.”

Any momentary hope you had of Yoongi not being an asshole diminished in that instant, your hands immediately reaching down to rip your notebook out of the view of his phone camera and slamming it shut.  “You’re a dick,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you stormed past him.  “Get the notes from someone else.”

As you rushed out of the now empty classroom, you missed the way Yoongi’s once amused expression changed into a frown, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck in frustration at himself.

On a Wednesday one month into the semester, you were having arguably one of the worst days of the year.  As syllabus week was long over, the workload in your classes had increased exponentially overnight and you were left feeling exhausted and overwhelmed.  Having gotten into an unwarranted fight with one of your more difficult housemates the night before, you had gone to bed frustrated and forgot to set an alarm.  While this would not have been an issue on a regular Wednesday, you had forgotten that you had an interview scheduled with a potential employer for a job after your senior year would inevitably come to an end.  Having apparently been in desperate need of some extra sleep, you didn’t become conscious until approximately 11:45am, fifteen minutes before your history lecture and long after the interview that had been set for 9:00am.

Tears threatened to sting your eyes as you rushed out of bed, quickly becoming aware of the weight of the situation you had fallen into.  How could you be so irresponsible and miss the opportunity to get hired for a position in your field?  So many seniors already had jobs secured for the summer even though it was only October of the fall semester.  You were a mess.

These negative thoughts only became louder as you rushed across campus toward the lecture hall, glancing down for a moment to take in your appearance.  You were sporting a pair of black joggers and an oversized hoodie that belonged to your best friend, Kim Taehyung.  In addition to this already rather unpleasant sight, you hadn’t had the time to do your skincare routine or makeup, and your bedhead was thrown into a messy bun on the top of your head, threatening to fall out of the elastic at any moment.  As someone who usually was well put together, you were extremely uncomfortable with roaming the campus with your current appearance.  The lethal combination of your messy appearance and the chaotic night and morning you had experienced had you feeling quite insecure as you finally rushed into your lecture hall with twenty seconds to spare, sinking down into your seat with your eyes low.

Just as you thought the morning couldn’t get any worse, the presence beside you just had to make himself known.  “All dressed up for me?” Yoongi asked sarcastically, smirking as he looked you up and down.  “I thought ‘some of us enjoy putting effort into our appearance.’”

While on any regular day Yoongi’s sarcastic comments were enough to get under your skin, today they proved to be unbearable.  Slamming your notebook down on the table in front of you, you twisted your whole body to face the amused boy.  “Can you just leave me the fuck alone?  For once?” you snapped a bit too loudly, noticing the way that a few of your classmates turned to look at the pair of you.  Before you could wish for the ground to swallow you up in that instant, your professor started to speak to begin class, snapping everyone’s attention away from you.  Swallowing to yourself, you turned to face forward, keeping your head low as you stared down at your notebook.

With your eyes averted, you didn’t notice the way that Yoongi’s expression fell and he stared at the side of your face with such deep concern that you weren’t even aware he was capable of feeling, wondering what he had done to make you that upset.  Was he really that intolerable?

About fifteen minutes into class, the sound of your phone vibrating next to your books snapped you out of your daze.  As your eyes scanned over the screen, your heart sank down to your stomach.

mom (12:16pm): Hey honey, how’d the interview go?  Bet you crushed it xo :)

The tears you had managed to hold back on your way to class were now stinging at the corners of your eyes.  Fucking up your own life was one thing, but disappointing your parents who had such high expectations of you and often talked about you with so much pride was another whole ballpark.  The thought of having to break the news to your sweet mother that you had fucked up yet again made you feel sick to your stomach.

As the first tears escaped your eyes and slid down your cheeks into visibility, you quickly shut your notebook and shuffled to your feet on shaky legs, not even bothering to shove your belongings into your backpack.  Ignoring the puzzled looks you were receiving from your classmates, especially Yoongi, you stormed out of the lecture hall and didn’t stop moving until you pushed your way into the nearest bathroom.  The moment the door of the single-stall closed shut, you slid down the side of the door and put your face in your hands.

Of course you knew this would all pass.  Of course you would figure things out with your housemate.  Of course you could try to reschedule the interview, or even just apply to other jobs if that didn’t work out.  Of course you could just explain things to your mom.  But college had a funny way of throwing so many things at you at once that sometimes it was hard to think straight and see things clearly.  Sometimes you just had to cry for a little bit to let out some of the stress.  So that was precisely what you did.

When you finally were able to compose yourself at least a bit, you fished your phone out of your pocket, immediately dialing the number of the only person you felt comfortable talking to at the moment.  There was no way you were going back into that lecture hall after the scene you had caused.  

“Hey, what’s up?” Taehyung’s deep voice sounded through the speaker, the low tone immediately sending a sense of comfort through your body.

Inhaling deeply, you rose to your feet and wiped the last of the tears from the corners of your eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie that happened to belong to the boy on the other end of the phone.  “Hey, can I come over?” you asked, sniffling quietly.  “Your place is closer than mine and I’m kind of a mess right now.”

“Hey, hey.  What’s wrong?” he asked, genuine concern laced in his voice.  He sensed your apprehension in discussing your problems over the phone and decided to speak up again.  “Actually, you don’t need to answer that right now.  I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.” You could hear him shuffling around on the other end.  “I was actually just about to text you.  I finally cleaned my place and found some of your clothes from when we used to, you know… Do the dirty.”

For the first time that day, a giggle forced itself through your lips.  What an absurd way to refer to your past attempts at a friends with benefit situation with Taehyung.  The two of you had been friends since freshman year of college, or even before that if you wanted to be specific.  Having been in the same orientation group the summer before starting college, the boy with the boxy grin was an immediate standout to you.  After being placed together by your orientation leader in a partner activity, you discovered that you had a lot of the same interests and the same, twisted sense of humor.  From that moment on, the two of you vowed to stick together through the ups and downs of college.  Apart from sticking together academically by taking most of the same literature classes together, you acted as each other’s emotional support system.  Whether it be a bad grade on an assignment, a painful breakup, or even a miserable hangover, you were there for each other.  Sometime during the beginning of your sophomore year when both of you were going through breakups and wanted to get laid without catching feelings for someone else, you struck up a friends with benefits deal that lasted all the way through the middle of your junior year.  The deal served its purpose well; the sex was good and there were no feelings involved, despite the concerns of some of your friends.  It was mutually ended when you both decided that you were ready to put yourselves out there romantically again.  There was no awkwardness for either of you.  The friendship remained as strong as ever and you were grateful to have someone as supportive as Taehyung in your life.

“Good, I could use a change of clothes right now,” you responded, finally working up the nerve to exit the bathroom and make your way out of the building.  “You’re the best.  I’ll be there in 10.”

As always, Taehyung knew just how to cheer you up.  Immediately upon your arrival, he insisted you take a hot shower to allow yourself to calm down alone for a bit.  To your delight, he had discovered one of your cute black t-shirts and a pair of ripped mom jeans you had been looking for forever while cleaning his room, allowing you to change out of the dreadful outfit you had been wearing earlier.  After combing your hair and putting the emergency makeup in your backpack to use, you were back to looking like a presentable human being and returned to Taehyung, plopping down beside him on his bed and resting your head comfortably on his chest.

Taehyung knew how to calm you down unlike anyone else in your life.  He allowed you to rant for nearly an hour, only chiming in when you asked for his advice or to offer words of comfort and encouragement.  By the end of the conversation, you were left feeling much more relaxed and acknowledged that none of the issues that you found yourself in were irreparable.  

Glancing down at your phone, you sat up straight as you noticed the time.  “Shit, I have class in twenty minutes.  I should get going in a few.”

Taehyung sat up beside you, reaching his arms overhead to stretch with a loud yawn.  It had become quite clear to you that he had skipped all of his classes today by his disheveled hair and his boxer-clad body.  “Are you feeling better now?”

Nodding, you flashed him a small smile as you rose to your feet and took the opportunity to stretch out your own body.  “Yes, much.  Thanks, Tae,” you praised, glancing at yourself in the mirror and fixing a few messy strands of hair.  “Honestly, I think I would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for that asshole Yoongi.”

“Yoongi?  As in Min Yoongi?” Taehyung questioned, authentic interest laced into his voice.

“Mhmm, that’s the one.”

“Hmm, interesting.  Namjoon’s been hanging out with him a bit now that he’s gotten closer to Hoseok.  I think they’re doing some sort of music thing together.  He’s brought him around here a few times recently,” the boy informed you, finally rising to his feet to stand beside you.  “He seemed cool, but if he’s an asshole to you I won’t hesitate to kick his ass.”

Hmm.  Now that was some interesting information.  Namjoon was one of Taehyung’s two roommates, Jimin being the other one.  Seokjin had lived with them in previous years, but his room was left vacant after he had graduated the previous year.  Still living nearby and remaining close to all of you, he often visited on the weekends to fill the void.

That wasn’t your concern though.  Namjoon was Taehyung’s sweet, clumsy dork of a roommate that you had also grown close to over the years.  After meeting Hoseok the previous semester through Namjoon, their friendship made sense.  Hoseok was loud, bubbly, and impossible to hate.  The boy didn’t have a bad bone in his body.  How the fuck did Yoongi fit into the mix?

Snapping back into reality, you giggled to yourself and pulled your concerned best friend into a tight hug.  “Don’t worry about it, Tae.  He just says stupid shit to get under my skin and today I was extra vulnerable.  Nothing major,” you reassured, giving him a squeeze.  “Thanks again for listening to me.  I’ll text you after class to get dinner or something.”

“If you say sooooo,” Taehyung drawled, pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of your head.  “Of course.  I’ll see you later.”

Flashing him one last grateful smile, you turned on your heel and pushed open the door of his bedroom, quietly closing it behind you.  The peaceful scenery of Taehyung’s bedroom was greatly contrasted with what was occurring in the common area, and nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to face.

“Y/N!  I thought I heard you show up earlier,” Namjoon shouted out to you from behind the kitchen counter, offering you a warm, dimpled smile.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, Joon,” you replied sincerely, returning the smile.  As you approached the kitchen, your eyes took in the faces of the familiar figures before you.  Namjoon… Jimin… Hoseok… No.

No fucking way.  It was as if Taehyung’s comment about Namjoon’s new friendship just moments prior had been a warning to you, because there before you stood Min fucking Yoongi right beside Hoseok.  It was evident by the look on his face that he had spotted you before you noticed his presence.  Rather than sporting his signature smirk, his mouth was slightly open and his eyes were wide with what could only be shock.  If you had allowed your gaze to remain on him a bit longer, maybe you would have noticed the genuine concern and sympathy in his eyes as he stared back at you.

“It’s because Tae hogs her and barely lets us have any time with her,” Jimin commented, chuckling as he glanced down at his phone for a moment.  “Oh, before I forget, Y/N…  Jungkook needs a model for his photography project and told me to ask you for him because he’s too nervous to ask you himself.”

Namjoon laughed to himself, shaking his head.  “I see Jungkook is still trying to live out his noona kink.”

Giggling to yourself, you rolled your eyes as you fully entered the kitchen and grabbed your backpack off of the stool where you had left it earlier.  Your friends were referring to Jeon Jungkook, a current sophomore who had found his way into your circle of friends early on in his freshman year after taking a few classes with Namjoon and Jimin.  The two of you weren’t particularly close as you typically only saw him on the weekends and in passing, but he was a friendly addition to the group.  Despite hearing about how popular he was with the sophomore girls, you found it hard to believe.  Every time Jungkook was around you, he seemed to turn into a nervous, stuttering mess, much to the rest of the boys’ enjoyment.

“Leave my little Kookie alone.  He’s an angel,” you responded, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.  “Tell him of course I’ll do it.”

“Phew, I think he’d pass out if I told him you referred to him as your Kookie,” Namjoon pestered on, nosily glancing over Jimin’s shoulder in amusement as the shorter boy typed out the news to Jungkook.

“I will be leaving that part out for now.” Jimin chuckled, slipping his phone back into his pocket before his eyes met yours again.  “Oh, I don’t know if Tae told you yet, but we’re planning on throwing a little party Friday night.  You should come, Y/N.”  Little party.  Whenever Jimin claimed he was just throwing a “little party,” it was often anything but little.

Taehyung had not told you yet, but you weren’t exactly surprised as he was a bit of a scatter brain when it came to remembering minute details.  Pursing your lips, you crossed your arms over your chest.  “We’ll see.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, moving closer to shove his shoulder against yours.  “We all know that’s your way of trying to appease us momentarily and then end up not showing up.  Come on, Y/N.”

Jimin stuck out his lower lip, clasping his hands together to plead.  “Pleaaase, Y/N.  You never party with us anymore like you used to.  We miss you.”

“If not for us, do it for Tae,” Namjoon argued, poking your cheek.  “Or even for your little Kookie.”

Dramatically shaking your head, you shoved Namjoon back as you rolled your eyes.  “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Hmm, you better.”

A moment of silence fell upon the group before you were forced back into the reality of the current situation that you were trying to avoid.

“Oh shit, sorry Y/N.  I’m being rude,” Hoseok interrupted from the other side of the counter, offering you a sheepish smile.  “This is my friend Yoongi.  I’ve finally been managing to drag him out to hang out with some of my friends.  Quite the antisocial one here.”

Ah.  How could you forget he was here?  Also, antisocial?  Hilarious.  The boy in question never kept his big mouth shut around you.  The look of pure discomfort that spread across Yoongi’s face when Hoseok brought the silent boy to your attention caused you to feel nothing but pure joy.

“Oh, no worries at all, Hobi,” you replied sweetly, flashing the boy an all-too-pleasant smile.  “Yoongi and I have actually already had the pleasure of meeting.  Isn’t that right, Yoongi?”

Nothing pleased you more than witnessing the look of sheer panic plastered across Yoongi’s face as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.  His typical overly confident persona was gone; he was now putty in your hands and you loved the feeling of being in control for once.  If only this moment could last forever.

“Uh, yeah we have,” Yoongi muttered, attempting to appease Hoseok’s confused face with a not-so-convincing smile.  “We have history class together this semester.”

“History?”  Hoseok’s eyes glanced back and forth between the two of you, as if trying to process something.  At last, they settled on Yoongi.  “Weren’t you just telling me you made some girl cry in history class today?”

If Yoongi hadn’t been mortified before, he surely was now.  It almost seemed as if his face was frozen, his eyes and mouth all wide in the shape of an ‘o.’  Just as you thought this interaction could not possibly get any more uncomfortable for Yoongi, his eyes flickered away from yours to move behind you.  Whatever it was that he saw left him looking even more disoriented, earning an amused smirk from you.

At last the sight Yoongi had observed made his presence known to you, Taehyung’s voice causing you to spin around on your heel to face him.  “Guys, let Y/N go to class in peace.  She’s had a rough day.”

You had to bite down on your tongue to avoid the laughter that was threatening to force its way through your lips.  As your eyes raked up and down Taehyung’s body, you were quite aware of why Yoongi had looked so stunned just moments before.  Taehyung stood before the group just as he had beside you in his bedroom a few minutes ago, hair a complete mess and sporting nothing but a pair of tight boxers.  Although the sight was nothing unusual to you and most of the boys, you knew by Yoongi’s expression that he had assumed that you and Taehyung had been hooking up before you emerged into the kitchen.  Even though it was false, you found yourself enjoying the current situation immensely.  You were well aware by the way Yoongi usually teased and belittled you in class that he perceived you as the quiet, innocent type, and you knew this scene would cause him to question everything.  How good it felt to be the one making Yoongi feel like shit for once.

“Tae, don’t worry about it.  We were just talking,” you assured him, reaching up to ruffle his messy hair.  While this act of affection was typical for the two of you, you knew it would be perceived differently in Yoongi’s eyes.  “But I do actually have to go to class now.  I’ll see you guys around, okay?”

The sound of various “goodbyes” and “we better see you at the party” filled your ears as you turned on your heel, but not before taking one last glance at Yoongi, knowing this was likely the last time you would have the pleasure of seeing the confident boy looking so distraught.  His eyebrows were knit together as he frantically looked you up and down, almost as if he was trying to search for the quiet, jittery girl he was used to seeing in class.  Although you knew this newfound confidence you were feeling surrounded by your group of close friends probably wouldn’t last when you saw him alone in class on Friday, you allowed yourself to indulge in this little victory where he was the one looking like the fool.

Directing one last small smirk at the confused boy, you finally approached the door and slipped out.  The moment you exited the building and walked toward the academic quad, you couldn’t hold back the laughter you had been keeping in for what felt like an eternity.  The unfortunate events of the morning had been long forgotten; you had achieved your first victory of the day and it was a big one for you.

When you finally slipped into your classroom with five minutes to spare, you took a moment to retrieve your phone out of your bag, blinking in confusion at all of the texts you had received in just a few minutes.

kookie (2:49pm): thanks for agreeing to help me w my project!!! :)

kookie (2:49pm): i promise it won’t be too much work for you

kookie (2:50pm): sorry for being a loser and not asking you myself

kookie (2:50pm): hopefully i’ll see you friday night? :)

Aw.  What a cutie.  Now onto the rest of your texts.

tae tae (2:51pm): yoongi will not stop asking us questions about you

tae tae (2:51pm): he asked if me and you were dating and then got confused when we all laughed

tae tae (2:52pm): also suspiciously curious about who jungkook is

tae tae (2:52pm): now he’s asking all about how long we’ve been friends for.  wtf is he trying to get at

tae tae (2:55pm): ya know i think he has a crush on you or something

You let out an exasperated gasp as you read the last text, barely believing your eyes.  Yoongi, the boy who managed to make every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at noon unbearable for you without fail for the past month, having a crush on you?  The thought was laughable.

Before you could type out an adequate response to such absurdity, your phone buzzed again.

jiminie (2:56pm): so what’s the deal w you and yoongi? seems ~steamy~  👀

jiminie (2:56pm): i feel like he somehow knows i’m texting about him

jiminie (2:56pm): he’s glaring at me

jiminie (2:57pm): didn’t take you as one to go for the intimidating ones hmm

jimine (2:57pm): i’ll let kookie know he has to be scarier

It was understandable for Taehyung to have such irrational ideas, but now Jimin too?  If your friends saw the way he talked to you in class, they would be laughing at themselves too.  Someone grab these boys their clown suits.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you locked your phone without responding to either of your friends.  That would be an issue for a later time.

The next two days rolled by rather smoothly.  Your housemate had apologized to you after realizing that she had overreacted for yelling at you for leaving your dishes in the sink when you were busy with homework, you had managed to get the missed interview rescheduled, and you had explained the situation to your understanding mother.  Most importantly, it was now Friday and you were more than ready for the weekend.  Things seemed to be finally falling back into order.

After getting an early lunch with one of your friends before your class at noon, you found yourself with fifteen minutes to spare before your class and it didn’t seem worthwhile to try to go back to your house or even the library.  It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit early for class.

When you finally entered the lecture hall from the back, the sight before you caused you to come to an immediate halt.  As it was still quite early, the class was empty all except for one person who you could identify even from behind due to his bright, bleached blonde hair.  What the fuck was Min Yoongi doing fifteen minutes early to class?  It was generous to even expect him to show up a whole minute before start time.  This was unprecedented.

You momentarily considered turning on your heel and leaving the room until right before noon, but it would be too much of a hassle to find somewhere to sit outside and the sound of the door closing behind you had already notified him that someone else was in the room.  As you accepted your fate and began to walk down the aisle, your eyes stopped on the space in front of your usual seat.  There in front of your seat sat a large coffee.  Had somebody already taken your seat?  Was Yoongi saving your seat for someone else to avoid you after your last interaction on Wednesday?

Working up the nerve, you continued to walk closer, only stopping once you were right in front of Yoongi.  The confidence you had found around your friends on Wednesday had seemed to diminish.  Before you could even allow yourself to take in the nervous expression on his face, you forced yourself to speak.  “Hey, did somebody take my seat?”

Yoongi blinked a couple times in confusion before his eyes wandered over to the coffee in front of your seat, a sense of comprehension taking over his features.  The calm expression on his face didn’t last.  Suddenly, the same anxious Yoongi you had experienced in Taehyung’s kitchen was back, his cheeks heating up and his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.  You had noticed that was a nervous habit of his.  Clearing his throat, he shook his head before finally attempting to clear up the confusion.  “Uh, no…” His eyes darted around the area, moving anywhere but to your own.  “It’s for you… The coffee.”

The confusion certainly was not cleared up by his answer, and you were left feeling even more puzzled.  Why had Yoongi bought you a coffee?  And why did he seem so nervous about it?  Glancing down at the venti cup in front of you, you picked it up and examined the label on the side.  Venti iced caramel latte with almond milk and less ice, it read.  Wait a minute.  How did he know your exact order, down to the less ice?

Furrowing your brow, you crossed your arms over your chest and continued to glare at the clearly uncomfortable Yoongi, much to his dismay.  “How do you know my exact coffee order?”

Yoongi’s cheeks flushed darker, his hands reaching down as he grabbed his backpack off of the ground and attempted to distract himself by zipping it open and looking for his notebook for a bit too long.  “I zone out in class a lot and have happened to zone out on your coffee a few times so I happened to remember.”  When you stood your ground and refused to assume your seat next to his, his eyes finally met yours.  It seemed as if though he was trying to put on an irritated front, but you could see right through it.  “Just sit down and drink it, okay?”

After standing still and staring at him for a few moments longer just to further his discomfort, you finally let your arms fall to your sides and walked behind him to plop down in your seat.  Jabbing the straw into the top of the unexpected cup of coffee, you took a long sip.  Ah, the sweet sensation of caffeine flowing through your veins.  Almost as sweet as the feeling of a highly uncomfortable Yoongi sitting beside you.

You were well aware that he was waiting for you to speak first.  He was most definitely waiting for you to ask him why he got you the coffee.  He was also likely wishing you’d bring up Wednesday before he had to.  However, the knowledge of his discomfort made you hold off.  If he wanted to talk about it, he would have to initiate the conversation.  You were enjoying this role reversal just a bit too much.

After a few more moments in silence, Yoongi finally let out a defeated sigh and fully turned his body to face yours.  It was quite apparent by the distressed expression on his face that he had been having a battle with himself in his head to work up the courage to speak.  “Aren’t you going to ask me why I got you coffee?”  Ah, the male species was so predictable.

Taking another long sip from the coffee just to make him wait a bit longer, you quirked an eyebrow at him, feigning innocence.  “Am I supposed to?”

“Well, I mean, yeah.  I would expect you to be curious.”  Running a hand through his hair, he allowed his eyes to scan over your face.  When he realized you weren’t budging, he let out yet another sigh.  Poor guy.  “It’s an apology, okay?  I wanted to say I’m sorry for Wednesday.  You know, when you, um… Cried.  I was just joking around and had no idea I would upset you so much and I felt like a complete asshole.  I followed you when you ran out and tried to find you to see if you were okay, but you really disappeared.  I just… I know I’m not good with this kind of thing but I’m sorry.”

Clasping your hands together over your drink, you allowed yourself a moment to process all that was just thrown at you.  Not only was Yoongi apologizing to you, but did he just admit that he chased after you to try to comfort you after he saw you cry?  That seemed all too out of character for someone who was known for being overly confident and priding himself in his ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ attitude.

Gnawing on your lower lip, you allowed yourself to take in his current state.  As he had told you, he clearly wasn’t very good at whatever “this” was.  What was “this” exactly?  Was it him having to apologize?  Or simply him having to not be a complete dick to you for more than thirty seconds?  Regardless, it was evident that he was being genuine.  His hand continued to rake through his hair, causing it to stick up in various directions.  Although his eyes were finally fixated on yours, the expression on his face communicated to you that he wished the ground would swallow him up at any moment.  It was strange seeing him this stressed for so long, but it was a welcomed change.  You knew all too well what it felt like to be so on edge, so you found yourself starting to feel a bit bad for him.  Maybe you could take it easy on him.  You had already felt the satisfaction of seeing him lose his ego for at least a little while, and that was enough for you.

Sighing to yourself, you shook your head and offered him a small smile.  “It’s fine, really.  Wasn’t even really your fault,” you assured him, reaching down into your backpack and fishing out your notebook as you noticed some of the other students finally started to file into the lecture hall.  “I had a lot going on and you just happened to be the one to set me off.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi’s eyes trailed up and down your face as if he was trying to speculate if you were telling the truth or not.  Why did he suddenly care so much about your feelings?  “Do you want to talk about it?  I mean, why you were so upset and all…”

Furrowing your brow, you opened your notebook to a fresh sheet of paper.  “Uh, no.  Not really.  Talking like that isn’t exactly something we do,” you answered, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.  It almost felt like he was trying to pry into your life, and you weren’t sure why.  As your relationship– if you could even call it that– was strictly limited to unwanted banter and insults from Yoongi, you didn’t exactly feel comfortable opening up to him about your problems.  A pity coffee wasn’t enough to convince you otherwise.  “I already had the chance to rant about it anyway.”

Yoongi was silent for a moment as he copied your actions, opening his own notebook and distracting himself by flipping through various scantily-covered pages.  “Ah, with Taehyung?”

You sensed a tinge of judgment in his voice, causing you to recollect the events of Wednesday.  It was clear that your perception had been correct; the tone of Yoongi’s voice insinuated that he believed something was going on between you and Taehyung.  Apparently whatever Taeyung and the other boys had told him after you had left wasn’t enough to change his mind.  His judgment was a valid one, even expected, but his apparent need to ask you about it was not.  What did it matter to him?

“Yes, with Tae,” you replied simply, watching the way he doodled in the margins of his notebook.  “He is my best friend, afterall.”

“Oh, my bad.  Wasn’t aware he was ‘Tae’ to you,” Yoongi spoke up quickly, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.  “I think we have different definitions of what a ‘best friend’ is, though.”  Ah, there he was.  The insolent Yoongi you had come to know and despise.

Rolling your eyes, you unknowingly pushed the coffee he had bought you further away, almost as if to symbolize that he was becoming repulsive to you yet again.  “I’m not quite convinced anyone would want to be your best friend anyway,” you snapped back, clicking open your pen.  “So was the coffee really an apology or just an excuse to pry into my life?”

“No, no.  It really was an apology,” he answered right away, pushing the coffee closer to you again in response.  “I’m just curious.  I guess my initial impression of you wasn’t entirely right.”

Now that was enough to get your full attention again.  Yoongi sure seemed to have a lot to think and say about you.  Raising an eyebrow, you hesitantly took another sip from your coffee.  “I wasn’t aware you had any impression of me to begin with.”

Yoongi chuckled to himself and shook his head, almost as if in disbelief of what you had just said.  “Oh, I have had a lot of thoughts about you.  I’ll keep them to myself, for your sake.”  If you hadn’t blinked, you would’ve noticed the way his eyes momentarily flickered down to your lips as they wrapped around the straw of your coffee.  “However, don’t worry.  I had it right that you’re a nerd who’s always going out of her way to do a bit much, and I stand by that.”

Scoffing to yourself, you slammed your drink down yet again.  “And you’re still an incessant asshole who pries into my life for absolutely no reason.”  Your eyes flickered to the front of the room as your professor took his place behind the podium.  “And I stand by that.”

Yoongi laughed a bit louder this time, clearly unbothered as he nodded his head at you as he turned his body to face the front of the class.  “Fair enough.”

Class seemed to fly by in a breeze, the majority of the lecture taken up by your professor outlining the content that would be on your first exam in the following week.  It was a lot of information, but you were confident that it wouldn’t be too challenging if you gave yourself enough time to study.  However, that was a problem for next week.  This weekend had to be about unwinding and giving yourself the proper amount of time to let go and relax.

Shoving your contents into your backpack, you were snapped out of your post-class daze by the sound of Yoongi’s low voice.  “Any fun plans this weekend?”

Blinking a few times to wake yourself back up, you slung your backpack over your shoulder and eyed the boy in front of you.  It was very unlike him to attempt to start a casual conversation with you, especially after class (that is, unless he was asking you for your notes). His odd behavior was continuing to surprise you.  “Uh, not sure…” you answered, taking a moment to push in your chair.  “Might need to make an appearance at a party tonight so my friends don’t kill me, but that’s about it.”

“Ah, the life of the party here.” Yoongi snickered, flashing you a lop-sided smirk before raising his hand slightly to give you a lackluster wave.  “See you around.”  With that, he spun around and quickly disappeared out of the lecture hall.

What an odd afternoon.

And you sure did see him around.  Much sooner than you would have liked, if you were being perfectly honest.

To your dismay, your lame excuses of “I’m sick” and “I have other plans” did not work on your friends, and they left you feeling guilty for trying to get out of going to their party.  Along with that, none of your housemates were particularly in the mood to go out, conceding that they’d much rather just stay in and watch a movie after such a chaotic week.

So that was precisely how you found yourself alone in the back of an Uber on the way to Taehyung’s house, discreetly trying to take shots out of a plastic water bottle filled with some old raspberry-flavored vodka that tasted closer to nail polish remover.  As painful as it was trying to hold in your gags so your Uber driver didn’t notice, you knew you couldn’t show up to the function sober.  Your friends were probably already ten rounds in.

As if on cue, your phone started to vibrate against your thigh, gladly distracting you from having to take another shot of poison.

joon (10:01pm): you better get your ass over here rn

joon (10:01pm): it’s still just all of us pregaming together and we want you here before everyone else shows up

joon (10:02pm): jimin is already absolutely plastered

jiminie (10:02pm): um nit thst drink theyre bing mwan to me

jiminie (10:02pm): cum here niw nd guv me s hug ;(

jiminie (10:03pm): o uiongi ia here too

Laughing to yourself as you didn’t even try to decipher the complete nonsense Jimin sent you, you glanced out the window as the car slowed to a stop in front of your destination.  After thanking your driver and sliding out of the car, you rose to your feet and smoothed out your lace top and black leather skirt.  It had been a while since you had allowed yourself to get all dressed up like this.  As you approached the door, you couldn’t help but notice the warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach and the head rush you felt from standing up so quickly.  Ah, the lovely effects of alcohol.

Before you could even ring the doorbell or text one of the boys that you had arrived, the door was swung open aggressively, revealing a grinning Seokjin holding a half-empty bottle of tequila in his free hand.  “Y/N!  I almost didn’t believe them when they said you were coming,” he cheered, pulling you inside and engulfing you in a tight hug.  Pulling back a bit to look at you, his eyebrows raised in amusement.  “And I can tell you already started drinking.  The old Y/N is back!”

“Hey, I knew I had to have a few shots beforehand if I was going to be able to tolerate all of you,” you joked, playfully shoving his chest.  Your eyes wandered upward as he held the bottle of tequila up as an offering over your mouth, quirking a challenging eyebrow at you.  Rolling your eyes, you leaned down and opened your mouth beneath the bottle, allowing him to pour a generous amount of the potent liquid into your mouth.  As you swallowed, you noted how it went down without much misery.  That was usually a good sign that you were tipsy.

“Taking it like a champ!” Seokjin chanted, draping an arm over your shoulders as he took another long swig from the bottle.  “We should probably head in there before the guys get mad at me for keeping you to myself.”

“Good idea.” You giggled, affectionately wrapping an arm around his waist for support.  

Before the two of you could even round the corner, you were stopped by a stumbling Jimin who practically threw himself onto your body, curling his arms around your waist and burying his face in your hair.  “Y/N, you’re finally here,” he slurred out, his fingers digging into the skin on your lower back.  Seokjin gave you an apologetic look before chuckling to himself and leaving the two of you alone.  “Did you get my texts?” He kept his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled back a bit to meet your eyes, flashing you a huge grin with half-lidded eyes.  God he was plastered, but you were just tipsy enough to enjoy his affection.

“Yes, and I see you’ve already claimed your hug,” you greeted with a giggle, poking one of his dimples.  “That was about all I could make out from the complete nonsense you were sending me.”

Jimin’s eyes widened as he grabbed your hand from his face, messily intertwining his fingers with yours.  Leaning in, his lips brushed against your ears.  “You got my text that Yoongi is here, right?” he attempted a whisper, but his voice came out quite a bit louder than that.

It took a moment for your buzzed brain to fully comprehend the meaning behind his words.  Once they finally sunk in, your eyes widened.  Sure Yoongi was close with Namjoon and was beginning to bond with the other boys, but what exactly was he doing here?  Wouldn’t he have brought it up earlier when you told him you were probably going to be stopping by the party?  Why couldn’t this guy make sense for once?

When your thoughts finally subsided and the shot you had taken just a couple minutes before started to set in, you simply decided to squeeze Jimin’s hand and offer him a warm smile.  “It’s fine, Jimin.  We’re fine.”

“Nooo, you don’t understaaaand,” Jimin drawled out, completely giving up on trying to whisper this time.  The music was loud enough anyway that there was likely no need to worry.  “He told Hoseok and Namjoon last weekend that there was absolutely no chance he’d show up to our party.  He hates parties,” he explained, reaching down to grab your other hand as well.  “Now all of a sudden this afternoon he decided he was on board.  Me, Namjoon, and Tae have a conspiracy theory that he’s only here because he found out you’re gonna be here.”  Jimin’s eyes closed shut for a few moments and he stumbled back slightly, catching his balance at the last moment.  “Woooow, I’m drunk.”

You weren’t going to overthink this.  You were not going to let Min Yoongi ruin your one night to relax and have a good time.  Sure he did find out that you were likely going to be here when you told him this afternoon, but that was obviously a mere coincidence.  Perhaps he had just decided to not be a stick in the mud for once in his life and try to let go.  That was definitely it.  Wrapping an arm around Jimin’s waist to steady him, you began to walk towards the chaos that was likely occurring in the next room over.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  Let’s go have some fun and get you some water before you’re puking all over everything before people even start showing up.”

“Water.” Jimin chuckled to himself as he unsteadily followed by your side, leaning much of his weight into you.  “That’s cute.  You’re cute.”

Rolling your eyes, you guided the two of you into the kitchen, immediately being met with a parade of loud cheers from the six other guys who had been waiting for you (probably five cheering voices, since you weren’t exactly convinced Yoongi was involved). Speaking of Yoongi, although you refused to meet his eyes just yet, you could feel his eyes burning through you. While this action would usually make you quite uneasy and jittery, the alcohol was doing you another favor by allowing you to brush it off.

“It’s about time.” Taehyung flashed you his signature boxy grin and draped an arm over your shoulders. “What was going on over there? Were you and Jimin having a secret meeting or something?”

Reaching up to ruffle his hair, you nodded and smirked. “Yeah, actually we were…” you trailed off, your eyes setting on the various handles of liquor spread across the counter. “We were actually discussing how you’re a bitch if you don’t take a shot with me right now.”

There was an uproar of “ohhhh’s” from most of the boys that echoed throughout the whole room, followed by Taehyung’s booming laughter.  “Wow, I forgot how much I love feisty, drunk Y/N,” he commented, lining up two shot glasses on the counter and filling them with what was either silver tequila or another random flavored vodka.  God you were going to hate yourself in the morning for mixing so many different types of alcohol if you didn’t slow down soon. After handing one of the glasses to you, he clinked his against yours.  “Cheers to you.”

Giggling to yourself, you downed the shot, noting how it went down even easier than the one before.  You were in trouble if you kept moving at this pace.  However, you were aware that the house would be filling up with people outside of your immediate friend group shortly and that was enough reason to keep drinking.  As was Min Yoongi’s burning presence.

“I still haven’t forgotten about that party last time when you and Jimin beat me by one cup in beer pong,” Namjoon directed at you, chuckling to himself as he shook his head.  “Rematch now.  I’m taking Hoseok this time.”

“Ah, sore loser,” you retorted, sticking your tongue out at him.  Your eyes wandered over to Jimin who was leaning against the refrigerator with his eyes closed, no glass of water in sight.  He clearly was not beer pong partner material at the moment.  Continuing to weigh your options, you noticed the way that Yoongi stared at you with his arms crossed over his chest and a raised eyebrow, almost as if he was challenging you to choose him.  You were too into this whole barely acknowledging his presence game to pick that route.  Finally, your eyes settled on an oblivious (or maybe nervous) Jungkook who was nursing a cup of beer in one hand and mindlessly staring down at his phone in the other.  Perfect.  Walking around Taehyung, you approached the younger boy and poked your finger into his side.  “Kookie, let’s kick some ass.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noted the way Yoongi’s eyes remained on you, but they became colder the moment those last words left your mouth.

“How daaaare you pick another partner?” Jimin scoffed, his eyes still closed as he wobbled to the side, catching his balance on the counter.  Oh boy.  God help whoever was stuck taking care of him tonight.

Jungkook’s eyes widened and his mouth fell into an ‘o’ as his eyes finally met yours, his fingers fumbling around his phone and almost causing it to fall.  “M-Me?” he questioned, his cheeks becoming rosier by the second.  “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” You smiled and wrapped your arm around his waist, resting your head against his arm fondly.  “I help you with your photography project, you help me maintain my pride.”

“O-Okay…” Jungkook’s arm stiffened in surprise at first, but he forced the nerves away and smiled warmly at you and hesitantly draped his arm over your shoulders.  As Namjoon and Hoseok led the way into the other room with the beer pong table, the younger boy guided the two of you behind them.  “Anything for you.”

Not only did the music drown out the sound of Jimin hurling into the kitchen sink, it also did a good job at masking the sound of Yoongi’s scoff and the way he immediately downed his full drink.

Despite Namjoon’s cocky attitude, you and Jungkook proved to be an unstoppable match, beating the other pair three games in a row.  The party proved to be a lot more fun than you had expected and would ever dare to give your friends credit for.  Shortly after you had started your first game of beer pong, the other friends and acquaintances of the boys started to file in.  It seemed like the guests never stopped arriving and those who came never wanted to leave.  Even after nearly three hours, the house was still quite full.  Although still quite tipsy, you found yourself hungry and tired, longing for your bed and a box of pizza.  Taehyung had suggested you just stay the night to avoid ubering back by yourself so late at night, but you were sick of the noise and mess.  Your social battery was quickly running out.

Sighing to yourself, you closed the front door of the house behind you and sat down on one of the front steps.  Staring off into the darkness, you started to plot your escape.  You didn’t want Taehyung or any of the other boys to worry about you too much, but you knew that they would immediately notice if you were gone for too long.

Before you could think too much, your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing yet again.  Instead of watching the backs of another group of guests leaving, you felt somebody plop down beside you on the step.  As you looked to the side, your breath hitched in your throat.  “You good?” Yoongi asked, tired eyes searching your face.

God, if your social battery was already on low, you couldn’t even imagine how long ago Yoongi’s had run out.  You were shocked he had stayed nearly this long.  His tired eyes pleaded with yours, perhaps begging you to not make a fuss and just be civil with him for once.  Biting your lip, you nodded your head.  “Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, looking off to stare into the street lights again.  “Just exhausted and in desperate need of some quiet and some food.”

“God, I feel you.  I think I’m going to have an eternal headache.” Yoongi chuckled to himself, letting out a deep breath as he ran a hand through his hair.  He seemed so… Calm.  So… Normal.  It was a bit jarring, but comforting at the same time.  “I don’t think you’re going to find any restaurant open right now, but I ordered pizza for dinner and have a lot left over at my place that I’m willing to share.  It’s also definitely quiet there.”  The words seemed to roll off of his lips so casually, as if this was something common for the two of you when it was anything but that.

Turning your head to look at him, you raised an eyebrow.  As you scanned his face, you couldn’t find any traces of disingenuity; it seemed as if he really intended to invite you over his place to hang out as if you were friends.  While this would have been intriguing on any normal day, it was extra intriguing with the bit of alcohol’s effects remaining in your body and your deep desire to leave the party.  Finally, you asked, “What’s the catch?”

“Hmm…” The corner of Yoongi’s lips perked up the slightest bit, his teeth digging into his tongue to prevent himself from laughing.  “The catch is you have to spend time with me.  I can see how that might be difficult for you, especially after you’ve spent the whole night avoiding me.”

Your eyes widened as you looked away, warmth flooding your cheeks.  You hadn’t actually expected him to notice the little game you were playing, at least in your head.  “I wasn’t avoiding you,” you immediately shot back, refusing to meet his eyes.  “I was just… Busy.”

“Ah, I know.  Very busy.  Crazy how you just seemed to disappear every time I tried to approach you,” Yoongi teased with a smirk playing at his lips, rising to his feet.  After stretching his arms over his head briefly, he turned to face you and extended his hand.  “So are you coming or not?  It’s only a five minute walk up the road, and I’d recommend you decide quickly before I rescind my offer.”

After staring at his offering hand for a moment, you sighed before grabbing onto it and allowing him to pull you up.  “Only for the pizza,” you retorted, although the small smile on your lips informed the both of you that that was far from true.  

Despite being perfectly capable of walking on your own, Yoongi’s hand remained wrapped around your own.  While you initially had some concerns that it would be awkward between the two of you, the conversation flowed naturally the entirety of the walk to his place.  Whether it be laughing about the random guy at the party who attempted to get with every single girl there or even poking fun at some of the freshmen in your history lecture, you had plenty to talk about.  Maybe it was the alcohol, but there seemed to be something deeper there.

After arriving at his place and noting the surprising cleanliness of it, the pair of you found yourselves sprawled out on his couch in the living room with two slices of heated up pizza a piece.  It was beyond relieving to finally have some peace and quiet, and the taste of the pizza was immaculate.  This was exactly what you needed.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you.  “Aren’t your boyfriends probably worried that you disappeared?”

Taking a big bite out of your crust, you rolled your eyes at the boy beside you and nudged his thigh with your foot.  “They’re not my boyfriends, and I already told them I left.”

“Hmm, interesting.” Yoongi smirked to himself and pushed your foot away from him.  “What about your little Kookie?”

“You’re awfully interested in my relationships with my friends,” you teased, leaning back further against one of the pillows and draping your feet over the armrest.  “We’re just friends.”

“Okay, okay.”  Yoongi chuckled and leaned forward to place his empty plate on the table in front of the couch.  Once he fell back against the couch, his eyes scanned your face.  A long silence fell upon you as he chewed on his lower lip, almost as if he was contemplating saying something.  When you opted to sit up straight again and positioned yourself a bit closer, he finally broke the silence.  “You know I never mean to hurt your feelings or offend you or anything like that, right?”

Swallowing the nervous lump that had formed in your throat, you stalled by busying yourself with putting your plate on top of his, wiping your hands against each other.  “I mean, I can see that now,” you admitted, allowing your eyes to meet his.  “But I never really know what to make of it all.”

Yoongi sighed to himself, looking down as he fiddled with his fingers.  You were glad to see that you weren’t the only nervous one here.  What had begun as a surprisingly fun and carefree hangout seemed to be morphing into something else very quickly.  If there hadn’t been any alcohol remaining in your system, you likely would’ve run from the tension.  Yet here you were, watching as Yoongi poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue.  “I’m just really bad at flirting, I guess.”

Your eyes widened as you allowed yourself to process what he had just admitted, staring at him as he attempted to look anywhere that wasn’t at you.  All of those little jabs and insults had been flirting?  Sure, you were aware that a lot of people used teasing to flirt, but that was usually after you had established some sort of foundation and it was made clear that that was the intention.  Either you had been overreacting all along, or he was right– he was really bad at this.  A jittery feeling filled your stomach as you looked down, occupying yourself by playing with the ends of a strand of your hair.  You hated yourself for still being so intrigued with him, but you couldn’t help it.  He truly was an enigma.  “You were… flirting?”

“Trying to, at least.” Yoongi let out an emotionless laugh, sounding rather disappointed in himself and likely a bit embarrassed.  After another moment, his eyes found yours.  Rather than look away, his eyes remained fixed on yours and a mesmerized look took over his face.  It was rather unclear whether it was a genuine newfound sense of confidence that spoke up next, or if it was the alcohol talking.  At that moment, something in him snapped.  “I just… You’re so fucking adorable and it really frustrates me because I just don’t know how to act around you for some reason.  I’d noticed you around campus before this semester but never really knew how to approach you.  When I saw you were in my class, I thought I finally had a shot, but I clearly fucked that up from day one.  Still don’t think I’ve even fully forgiven myself for making you cry.”  Letting out a huff, he leaned his head back on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.  “Everything you do is just so fucking… Ugh.  How much a perfectionist you are, the short sundresses, the way you don’t even kind of realize the effect you have on people, it’s all just… Fuck.  I’m so used to just getting my way with people so easily, but it’s such a challenge with you.  I can’t decide if it’s more frustrating or alluring, but it doesn’t even matter.  You’re all I fucking think about these days.”

Swallowing thickly, your eyes scanned his face to search for any sign that he might be lying, but you found nothing.  Instead, he leaned back against the couch with his eyes closed, a hand raking itself through his hair.  He looked so… Frustrated.  Defeated.  You did this to the typically unbothered, confident Min Yoongi?  Biting your lip, your eyes trailed along his jawline and up to his lips.  Not only did he look discouraged, he looking so fucking… Good.  The apprehensive feeling that had taken over your stomach morphed into a pool of heat, slowly sinking lower and lower.  This was the Min Yoongi you had always imagined; a vulnerable, introspective boy who also happened to have a face that looked like it was sculpted by the gods themselves.  And here he was, confessing to you that you basically had him wrapped around your finger and at his will.  While this twist was certainly exciting, the feeling of dominance that came along with it had you feeling turned on.  You might not be good at words, but you certainly were good at communicating physically.

You hadn’t realized that you had completely zoned out until Yoongi was sitting up straight, panic in his eyes as he rapidly shook his head.  “I can’t believe I just said all of that… Forget it.  I’m sorry and I understand if you want to leave.”

Blinking a few times to snap yourself out of your daze, you shook your head at him.  Unable to find the right words, you rose to your knees and lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and slamming your lips into his.  Instead of being met with the warmth and rhythm of his lips that you so craved, he pulled back a bit.

“Wait, are you sure?” he questioned genuinely, but his eyes became dark as they trailed down to your lips, longing to taste them again.  “I don’t want you to do something you might regret.”

“Yes, I’m sure about this and I’m also sure that you’re talking a whole lot.  It’s a bit much, don’t you think?” you teased, mocking the phrase he always used whenever he’d make fun of you in class.  Moving your hands up a bit, you tangled your fingers into the hair on the back of his head.  “You know, you probably should’ve led with some of that nicer stuff instead of being such an asshole.  Would’ve worked wonders for you much sooner.”

Yoongi’s entire demeanor seemed to shift as your words, a sense of relief washing over his face.  A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he finally wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap.  “I would’ve if you didn’t frustrate me so much.  Don’t know how to act around you.”  Finding his statement efficient enough for now, he at last closed the gap between the two of you, his lips slamming back onto yours.  His fingers slid up the back of your shirt and dug into your back, causing you to moan into his mouth.  The parting of your lips allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth, the taste of him overwhelming you.  The pool of heat and desire in your stomach continued to sink down lower, becoming evident in the wetness in your panties that was soon going to become noticeable if your short skirt kept rising up.  Shifting yourself to straddle one of his thighs, you grinded down against it in an attempt to find some relief.

A groan from Yoongi caused you to pull back, taking a moment to catch your breath before you began to pepper wet kisses down his jawline.  You were too far in at this point and there was no turning back now.  As his hands slid down from your back to cup your ass, your lips found their way to his ear.  “How can I make it up to you?  You know, for frustrating you so much and all.”

Yoongi clenched his thigh in response to words, eliciting a moan out of you as the fabric of his jeans created friction against your wet panties.  “You’re playing a dangerous game asking questions like that.”

“Mmm, I think that’s what I’m trying to do,” you cooed, pecking his lips a couple times before kissing your way down to his neck.

“Bedroom.  Now.”  Before you could continue, he lifted you off of his lap and placed you on your feet on the ground.  He rose up beside you and wrapped his arm around your waist, quickly leading you out of the room and down the hall.  The moment he dragged you into his room, one of his hands departed from your body to slam the door shut and roughly press your body against the back of the door.  His lips roamed the skin on your neck for a few moments before his wandering hands abruptly tugged your shirt up and over your head, ignoring the way he forced your arms to twist.  Once the piece of clothing was discarded on the floor, his eyes fell upon your exposed skin, widening when he realized you had not been wearing a bra.  He took a step back, a combination of lust and what almost appeared to be admiration filling his eyes.  “God, are you trying to fucking kill me?”

Biting on your lower lip in an attempt to hide your growing smirk, you raised an eyebrow at him.  You could feel your ego being boosted and it was in that moment, just like that time a few days before during your run-in with him at Taehyung’s place, that you realized again just how much it got you off to feel in control over him.  After having dealt with him making fun of you and watching you unravel under his gaze so many times, it felt incredible to have him like putty in your hands.  It was clear by the dazed look in his eyes that he was at your command now, and this was finally a situation you felt comfortable taking control over.  “Don’t tell me you’re going to die on me already.  I haven’t even gotten started with you yet,” you teased, tracing your finger down his jawline at a tantalizingly slow pace.  “Take off your shirt.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment before he obliged to your command, quickly pulling his oversized t-shirt over his head and throwing it in a pile on top of yours.  It was obvious he had become accustomed to being the one holding power over you, and this shift had caught him off guard.  “A little bossy, don’t you think?”

“Get used to it.” Eyeing his bare chest and stomach slowly, you planted one last wet kiss onto his lips before dropping to your knees in front of him.  You ignored the way his eyes were practically bulging out of his head as you unhurriedly undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, dragging them down his legs and making sure to keep his boxers in place on his lips.  Despite his surprise, he eagerly stepped out of his jeans and kicked them to the side, a hand moving to rest on the top of your head.  Your mouth watered as you eyed the hardening bulge through his tight boxers that were already stained with pre-cum, leaning forward to just barely press your lips against the tip of his cock through the fabric.

Yoongi’s fingers threaded through your hair as a suffocated groan escaped his lips.  “Y-You know, I had planned on going down on you first.  It’s the least I could do.”

Ah, of course.  He was just as predictable as every other man you had slept with, and the point had been affirmed by all of your female friends you had discussed it with as well.  Let them go down on you first, they always said, knowing that if they did the job well, you would be a begging, submissive mess, hanging onto their every command for the rest of the night.  While there was nothing wrong with submitting sometimes, it just didn’t get you off quite as much as taking control did.  The stakes were even higher when the other person was Min Yoongi, who had just so graciously admitted to you earlier that he was so used to getting his way with people and feeling in control.  Despite your arousal, you couldn’t give him that satisfaction.  Not yet, at least.

“Mmm, no thanks,” you hummed nonchalantly, keeping your eyes on his as you used your teeth to grip onto the waistband of his boxers and slowly drag them down his legs.  Once you reached his ankles, you pulled back and took a moment to admire his fully hardened cock pressed against his stomach.  It was not the longest you had ever seen, but the girth of it had you clenching your thighs together at the thought of what it would feel like inside of you later.  Licking your lips, you grasped a hand around the base of his length and leaned forward, grazing your tongue against the head to lick up the pre-cum.

“Fuck,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, his other hand moving to tangle into your hair as well.  “I wouldn’t recommend too much teasing, sweetheart.  You’ll regret it later.”

Ah, already making threats in an attempt to feel in control.  This was going to be too easy.  You wanted him to beg, though.  Chuckling quietly to yourself, you locked eyes with him as you flattened your tongue against the back of the base of his cock, slowly licking your way up along the protruding vein until you reached the top again.  “Oh, no,” you teased, beginning to pump your hand up and down.  When your hand reached the top, you brushed your thumb back and forth over his sensitive tip.  “I’m so scared.”

Whimpering softly, Yoongi’s eyes screwed shut as he craned his neck back.  “Please, Y/N,” he groaned, giving your hair a rough tug.  “Need your mouth.  Now.  Please.”

There it was, the begging you had been waiting for.  All it took was a bit of teasing for the cocky Min Yoongi to lose all sense of pride.  “Well, I guess, since you asked so nicely.”  Smirking at your victory, you leaned forward and wrapped your mouth around the head of his cock.  Once you had hollowed out your cheeks enough to accommodate for his girth, you began to bob your head up and down and use one hand to pump the rest of his length that wasn’t in your mouth.

��F-Fuck, babe, just like that,” Yoongi groaned out from above you, trying his best to keep his eyes open despite the immense pleasure surging throughout his body.  Once you had adopted a rhythm after a couple of minutes, you removed your hand from the base of his shaft.  Yoongi immediately noticed its absence and moved a hand to the back of your head, slowly beginning to urge you forward further down his length.  “Fuck, you’re doing so well.”

Your eyes remained on his as you allowed him to slowly fuck your face, watering as you fought against the urge to gag.  The sound of his quiet moans of your name encouraged you further.  When you could tell he couldn’t take much more, you leaned forward to take the rest of his length in your mouth, bottoming out as your nose touched the skin on the bottom of his stomach.  Sucking in a deep breath through your nose, you swallowed gently around him, allowing his cock to feel the tightening of the muscles of your throat around it.

Yoongi released his loudest groan yet, eyes screwing shut as he shook his head. “F-Fuck, stop, stop,” he whimpered out, letting go of the back of your head.  “Don’t wanna cum before I even get to be inside of you.”

Fighting back the urge to smirk yet again, you slowly worked your mouth backwards until you released the tip of his cock with a loud ‘pop.’  Using the back of your hand to wipe the string of saliva that was hanging out of your mouth, you slowly rose to your feet to meet a flushed Yoongi.

Clearing his throat, he raised an expecting eyebrow at you.  “You know, I would like to return the favor first.”

“Hmm.” You couldn’t deny that your core was throbbing at this point, begging for any sort of release.  Still, your ego had you wanting to maintain the dominance you currently had over him.  Pressing a peck to his lips, you reached down to unbutton your skirt, shimmying it down your legs along with your soaked panties.  “Think I could sit on your face?”

For the umpteenth time that night, Yoongi’s eyes enlarged to the size of saucers as he looked you up and down.  It felt like an eternity that he stood there frozen and you could practically see a bubble above his head that read ‘Yoongi.exe has stopped working.’  When he at last realized his distraught state, he blinked rapidly and cursed beneath his breath before nodding.  “Uh, yeah… That works.”  God, he really was speechless.

You failed to suppress an amused laugh as he quickly made his way over to his unmade bed and laid on his back, his short-term flustered demeanor quickly being overtaken with a cocky smirk.  While this shift left you wanting to take control again, you couldn’t wait any longer at this point.  Sauntering over to the bed, you made your way onto your knees over his face as you faced his stomach, slowly lowering down until you hovered just above him.

Yoongi let out an amused chuckle, the release of warm air from his nose making your wet pussy throb.  “God, babe, you’re already soaked,” he mused, reaching his hands around and gripping them tightly around each of your thighs.  “You really got off that much just from sucking my cock, hmm?”

His words had you whimpering above him, gasping as he urged your body lower and barely ghosted his lips over your clit.  The need for power was gone for now.  You needed him to do something.  “P-Please.”

Another laugh had you clenching your thighs around his head, begging for any sort of friction.  “Come on, babe.  I bet you were feeling pretty good about yourself thinking you were in control, hmm?” His nails roughly dug down into the skin of your thighs.  “Please what?”

Letting out a frustrated huff, you closed your eyes tightly as you moved your hands up your body, wrapping around your breasts.  You knew you had to give in.  “Please fuck me with your tongue.  Anything, please,” you moaned out, pinching at your sensitive nipples to feel any sort of pleasure as you waited.

“Was that so difficult?  That’s all I needed to hear, babe,” he hummed from beneath you, reaching up to grab your hips and urge your body down lower under your pussy rested gently over his mouth.  Once he adjusted to the new position, he opened his mouth and slowly began to run his tongue along your folds.  It wasn’t until he received a few satisfactory moans from you that his tongue began to gently circle your clit, somehow hitting the spot right where you needed him.

“F-Fuck, Yoongi.  Right there,” you moaned out loudly, absentmindedly lowering yourself down a bit more to increase the friction.  Your eyes closed shut in pleasure as he replaced the circling motion with a soft sucking, a string of profanities leaving your mouth as you pinched your nipples harder.  God, it hadn’t even been long and you could already feel the knot in the pit of your stomach building, dying for that beautiful release.

After a few more moments, Yoongi urged your body up a bit so he could speak coherently.  “Come on, babe.  Be a good girl and fuck yourself on my tongue.”

A whimper escaped your mouth as you lowered yourself back down onto his now-flattened tongue.  Once you had applied the right amount of pressure, you slowly began to rock your hips back and forth.  At the top of each motion, his tongue managed to hit that perfect spot on your sensitive bud, bringing you closer to your orgasm with every jolt.  Yoongi could sense that you were getting close as your movements became sloppier, encouraging his nails to dig deeper into your thighs and hum against the lips of your pussy to increase the sense of friction.  This proved to be all too much for you and the pool of heat in your abdomen snapped moments later, your orgasm overtaking your body as you loudly moaned out Yoongi’s name.  The high was almost too much to handle; you were left seeing stars as Yoongi continued to fuck you with his tongue until you couldn’t take it anymore and moved off of his face with shaky thighs to collapse behind him.

Yoongi sat up quickly moments later, refusing to wipe your release off of his face as he marveled at your breathless form before him.  “Holy shit, that was so fucking hot,” he breathed out, and you swore you could see his cock twitch against his stomach.

When you finally fully came down from your high, you propped yourself up on your elbows to observe the wide-eyed man staring down at you. “Glad we were finally able to find something that mouth is good for.”  Your tongue poked out to skate over your lower lip as you admired the glistening of your release shamelessly left around his mouth and the head of his cock glowing an angry shade of red, just begging to experience the same release.  The mouth-watering sight had you aroused again at an embarrassingly fast pace, and it was only moments before you gripped onto his arm and roughly pulled his body on top of yours.

Yoongi’s mouth eagerly met yours, bringing you into a messy battle of teeth and tongues.  As he felt you attempt to buck your hips up into his, he began leaving a wet trail of kisses up your jawline until he was barely an inch from your ear.  “Think you’re ready to take my cock already?  God, you really are a needy, dirty slut, huh?”

His words had your clit throbbing and your body without any patience left.  You’re perceptive enough to know that he had been waiting even longer than you and likely couldn’t take waiting any longer either.  Reaching down between your bodies, you wrapped a hand around his shaft and guided it toward you, slowly rubbing the tip up and down your wet folds.

“F-Fuck,” Yoongi groaned out, eyes looking down to admire his cock against your clit before meeting your own.  “Want me to grab a condom first?”

Whimpering at the feeling of his tip brushing against your sensitive bud, you bit your lip.  “I’m clean and I’m on the pill.  It’s fine as long as you’re clean.”

“I’m clean too.” Yoongi nodded his head rapidly, reaching down to replace your hand with his own around his cock.  “Such a dirty slut wanting me to fuck you raw.”  Without any further warning, he placed the tip of his cock at your entrance and bucked his hips forward, slowly filling you with his length.

The sudden stretching of your walls caught you off guard, a loud gasp breezing through your lips as your head fell back against the pillow.  The initial shock of overstimulation washed away in an instant, a feeling of deep pleasure in the pit of your stomach replacing it as he slid all the way in.  When you realized he was remaining still, you opened your eyes and dug your nails into the skin on his back.  “Y-Yoongi, move.  Please.”

“G-God, so fucking tight and wet for me.” His forehead fell upon yours and he pressed a shockingly gentle kiss to your lips before propping himself up and beginning to thrust in and out of you at a rapid pace.  “Taking my cock so well.”

Whimpering quietly, you moved your legs to wrap around his lower waist and hoist your body closer to his, attempting to match his movements and feel him even deeper inside of you.  At the new angle, it wasn’t long until he adjusted his hips so the tip of his cock was pounding against your g-spot with every single thrust.  You knew you were not going to last long.  Without even realizing, you clenched your walls around him.  “F-Fuck, you feel so good.”

Yoongi let out a loud groan as he buried his face into your neck, his teeth clamping down on the exposed skin.  “Fuck, babe.  I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

It was almost as if his desperate words reignited the same fire for dominance you had been feeling earlier, suddenly recognizing the power you held over him.  Despite feeling quite close to orgasm yourself and enjoying the position you were in, you knew you’d get off even faster if you were to take control of the situation.  Tightening your legs around his waist, you used all of your strength to flip your body over so you were on top of him.  Pressing your hands against his chest, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, moaning loudly as his cock was able to fill you up even deeper in the new position.  “Mmm, that’s better.”

Yoongi initially looked at you in shock, but the moment that you sunk down his length, he threw his head back in pleasure.  “Fuck, what’s with you needing to be in control?” The clear implication of the question was that he was used to being the dominant one, and this switch was catching him off guard.  Regardless, he maintained his composure and propped his head up on the pillow, placing his hands on your hips as you began to bounce up and down.  “Yeah?  You like getting off by fucking yourself on my cock?”

Throwing your head back, you dragged your nails down his chest as you began to grind your hips in figure-eights, feeling that all-too-familiar warmth quickly building up in your stomach.  The sound of your skin slapping against his and echoing throughout the room only intensified your arousal, your hand moving to your clit in an attempt to reach your release sooner. “I-I’m close.”

“I’ve got it, babe,” Yoongi murmured, wetting his fingers against his tongue before pressing two of them against your clit and beginning to rub the sensitive area in small circles.  His breathing was quickly becoming as jagged as yours, his groans more frequent.  “C-Close, too.  W-Where?”

Although his question was quite vague and your mind was clouded from your orgasm that was quickly approaching, you understood what he was asking you.  Opening your eyes to meet his, you ground your hips against his harder.  “I-Inside me.  Please.”

“Fuck, that’s hot.  O-Okay.”

Yoongi’s fingers quickened in pace against your clit, his own hips lifting up off of the mattress to meet your thrusts.  The new sensation of fullness triggered your second orgasm, your eyes slamming shut as your walls pulsed and convulsed around his cock.  The feeling was even stronger than the first one, and although your mind was quite foggy, you’re sure that you were left practically screaming out his name as you desperately gripped onto his arms for any source of stability while you rode out your high.

After witnessing the euphoric look on your face and the feeling of your pussy clenching around his cock, Yoongi’s orgasm followed just moments later.  A loud groan escaped his lips as he sat up straight and wrapped his arms around you, his forehead resting against yours as the feeling of ecstasy flowed throughout his body.  The incoherent noises leaving his mouth continued as he pulsed hot streams of cum inside of you, filling you up completely as he tiredly lifted his hips a few more times to fuck it deeper inside of you.

When you were finally able to catch your breath and the tingling sensation left your body, you opened your eyes and were surprised with his closeness when you realized that his forehead was resting against yours.  Something about the position felt so intimate to you, and despite having just been fucked senselessly by the man in front of you, you were left suddenly feeling a bit… Shy.  Maybe it was the last remnants of the alcohol wearing off or maybe it was the fact that you had just come crashing down from one of the best orgasms you had ever experienced, but you suddenly felt so vulnerable in front of no one other than Min Yoongi.  Chewing on your bottom lip, you slowly lifted your weight off of him and collapsed down beside him, throwing an arm over your eyes as you let out an exhausted yawn.  You knew you were good at sex.  What you were not so good at was what usually came after it; the uncomfortable conversations and trying to figure out whether or not the other person wanted you to stay or go.  The tension that had existed between the two of you before all of this had occurred left you even more on edge.

Yoongi fell back next to you moments later, a huff escaping his lips as his head hit the pillow.  Although your arm was covering your eyes, you could feel his eyes glued to your face.  “Wow, what the fuck was that?  Not what I had imagined you being like,” he exhaled, and you could feel his weight shifting closer to your body.  “I’m so used to being in complete control… Didn’t expect to like it so much when it’s not like that.”

Smiling to yourself at your victory, you allowed your arm to fall away from your face, opening your eyes to meet his. “You live and you learn.”

A shockingly warm smile overtook Yoongi’s features as his eyes trailed down your body, stopping when they reached your thighs.  Suddenly, he sat up straight before pushing himself off of the bed and getting onto his feet.  “Fuck, sorry.  I’m gonna get you a towel to clean up.”

“No worries.” You offered him a reassuring smile, sitting up as you watched him disappear out of the room.  Once he was gone, you exhaled a deep breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding in.  His question was valid: What the fuck was that?  Your mind wandered back to the heated conversation you were having before throwing yourselves at each other, trying to recall the confession he had made to you.  The post-sex dreariness was setting in and you were finding it difficult to recollect just what he had said and what the implications behind it were.  You remembered him saying something about how you were all he could think about, but that likely just meant he was physically attracted to you, right?  Had you wanted him to mean more than that?  The pit growing in your stomach suggested that perhaps you did, and perhaps you should get out of there before you got too upset about it.  It would make sense if it was only for sex to him, especially since you were aware of his past and how he was used to getting his way with girls.  You needed to get out of there before it became more than just sex to you too.

Your eyes wandered over the edge of the bed, spotting your top within reaching distance from where you were.  Right as you were about to reach down to grab it, Yoongi barged back into the room.  He was now clothed in an oversized t-shirt and a fresh pair of boxers.

“Sorry for the wait, but I got you a towel fresh out of the dryer.”  He lingered in the doorway for a moment, eyeing you curiously for a moment before shutting the door behind him.  “Also brought you some sweats and a t-shirt to sleep in.  A hoodie, too.  Wasn’t really sure what you’d want so I kind of brought a little bit of everything.” His eyes avoided yours as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. “You can also shower if you want, but I figured you’d be tired and could just do it in the morning.”

You blinked a few times as you studied his oddly nervous demeanor, taking in the meaning behind his words.  He had wanted you to stay?  Was he just being respectful, or did he really want you there?  Reaching forward to grab the towel he left on the edge of the bed, you looked down as you started to clean yourself up.  “Oh, I didn’t know you wanted me to stay…”

Yoongi remained silent for a few moments, his eyes finally falling upon your face as he sat down on the edge of the bed.  “Huh?  Why wouldn’t I want that?”  There was genuine confusion laced into his voice as he anxiously tapped his hands against his lap.  “Wait, I did tell you I was interested in you earlier, right?  I… I was nervous so I wouldn’t be surprised if it came out the wrong way.  I tend to do that a lot around you, apparently.” A jittery chuckle escaped his lips as he looked down at his lap.

An excited rush burst throughout your stomach, a smile threatening to spread across your lips as you finally allowed yourself to look at his distraught form.  You were feeling hopeful, but you needed to make sure.  “I mean, you said something along the lines of being attracted to me and wanting to get to know me, or something like that…” You were well aware that such probing was only going to make him more nervous, but you needed to hear him say it.

“Ah, right.  I’m seeing now how that’s kind of vague.”  His cheeks were flushed bright red, but he finally allowed his eyes to meet yours.  It was like the cocky, vocal Yoongi you had just experienced fifteen minutes prior and the smol bean hunched over beside you were two completely different people.  Offering you a shy smile, he rested a gentle hand on top of your thigh.  “I like you.  I really do want to get to know you better.  I’m sorry we did this, uh, kind of backwards.” His free hand reached up to rake through his disheveled hair.  “But I was thinking that maybe tomorrow we could study for our history test during the day and after that, there’s this nice new restaurant that just opened down the street that I was, uh, thinking about taking you to.  You know, only if you want, though.”

It was nice to see Yoongi let his guard down, and it was even nicer to know that you were the cause of it.  Smiling to yourself, you grabbed the sweatpants and hoodie he had left on the edge of the bed, moving the dirty towel to the side as you began to dress yourself in his clothes.  Your head lingered for a few moments in the hoodie before pulling it over your head, inhaling the scent of his laundry detergent and cologne.  While you did appreciate his openness and his confession left you feeling quite jumpy, you knew you couldn’t turn down an opportunity to tease him even further.  “Oh, so now you’re just using me for my notes, huh?”

Yoongi’s face fell as you spoke, but the moment he noticed the teasing smirk spread across your lips, he rolled his eyes and shoved your shoulder.  “Just because I’m not as neat doesn’t mean I’m not as diligent.”  Scooching his body over until he was beside you, he shook his head as he pulled a blanket over both of your laps.  “You know, I don’t appreciate the teasing when I’m trying to be vulnerable here.”

Giggling to yourself, you leaned back until your head hit the pillow.  Pulling him down beside you, you rested a hand on his cheek.  “I can agree to all of your plans under one condition.”

Raising a curious eyebrow, Yoongi moved his body closer to yours and draped a leg over both of yours.  It was clear he was quickly becoming comfortable again.  “And what might that be?”

Running your finger along his jawline, a small smirk stretched across your lips.  “We go for round two first thing tomorrow morning.”

Yoongi appeared to be caught off guard at first, but it wasn’t long until he was laughing along with you. “God, you really are a bit much.” His tongue swiped over his lower lip as he appeared to think to himself.  “I can also agree to that under one condition.”

Your finger stopped moving along his face as you tilted your head to the side.  “Oh yeah?  What?”

Smirking at you, Yoongi’s hand trailed down your back before he gave your ass a playful squeeze.  “Before the semester ends, you promise me that we break into our lecture hall one night and you let me fuck you over the table while you wear that yellow sundress.”

“God, how long have you been fantasizing that one for?”  The mischievous look spread across his face told you all you needed to know.  Laughing loudly as you closed your eyes, you snuggled your face into his chest, quickly becoming accustomed to viewing his warmth as a source of comfort.  

“Deal.”