#honestly i could do the entirety of poor unfortunate souls with them but i have to be selective damn it

[otsmosis]

more little mermaid au. known deal-maker and magic man alastor working over the princess of hell with her crush on a lowly human.

Part 1.

[veronicathegoddess]

Split your lip? For a “poor-me-cry-baby” like you i will make the effort to kick your teeth out and bust your nose as well. Give you a reason to cry for attention. Goddess in your own living room.

oh hey, i remember you. did the humiliation of my last drag finally wear off? is that it? you want me to hurt your feelings again?

you call me a crybaby but you're the one in my inbox whining and crying for attention, all while giving me the attention that i want. you're so obsessed with me and honestly, if you weren't such a cunt, it would've been cute.

and i get it, when people are young and hot and successful and happy and thriving and better than you in every way imaginable, you're upset because you're miserable and bitter and here i am being well...everything you want to be. i'm popular and people love me and in my own way i am a goddess and you just want to tear me down because you're unsatisfied with your miserable pathetic existence.

also you seem very abusive and that's just sad. you have so much rage that you want to hurt someone you've never met that much? and you don't think that's concerning? go to therapy bitch but then again i don't think there's a therapist in the entirety of the continental us that could fix you. because unfortunately therapy isn't a cure for misogyny. because that's your problem, you're a fucking misogynist. and you make me sick to the depths of my soul.

and baby i'll cry for attention anyway, no one needs to hurt me for that, i'm an attention whore and i'm not afraid to admit it. i crave it the way that you crave being on my level. and i'll get as much of it as i want because unlike you, people like me and want to please me.

and like i said before, you're giving this crybaby attention and i don't want it because men like you aren't worthy enough to give attention to women like me. or any woman for that matter. in fact just stay away from women in general or don't cause i want one of them to kick your sad little face in when you try to pretend that you're better than her.

also again with the goddess in the living room insult. could you at least try to be a little creative? like it wasn't interesting last time and this time, it's insulting that you think that's gonna hurt my feelings. if you're gonna try to be a cunt, do it properly because you're just making this boring for me.

now go cut your dick off with a rusted chainsaw and leave your betters in peace asshole

[clefairymuke]

daydream | chapter one

next chapter

pairing: armin arlert x reader

themes: college/modern au, slowburn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut

tw: recreational drug use, drinking, explicit sexual content

word count: 1705

The clock was obnoxiously loud with its endless ticking as you struggled to answer yet another dreaded short response prompt, your eyes threatening to trail over to the paper next to yours. You cursed your professor in your head, wondering who had the audacity to dub them "short answer" when answering every nit-picking facet of the question required at least a page-long essay to respond to the prompt in its entirety. The pen would soon break through the paper with how aggressively you were pushing it down. Against your better judgement, you allowed yourself to glance at your friend's paper. All you were able to read was the scrawled cursive "Armin Arlert" at the top before it was pulled from the table and started its journey to the professor's desk. Armin shot you a side eye as he threw his bag over his shoulder, and you returned a feigned apologetic grin. You watched as he waltzed confidently to the front of the room. Everything was so easy for him.

You sighed as he laid his paper on Professor Hange's desk and left. You knew he'd be outside waiting on the bench by the sidewalk when you finally finished; it was looking like he would be there for at least an hour. You tried to focus. What exactly had you learned so far in Biology 220? As far as you knew, the answer was absolutely nothing. After another while of pretending to think while actually berating yourself internally for your lack of studying, you did what you do best: you wrote down 200 words of absolute bullshit and hoped for a passing grade. It had put you through a year and a half of school -- you hoped it wouldn't fail you now.

It made sense for Armin to do well. After all, he was a biology major on the premed track. You, on the other hand, chose English on the form last minute in order to take the least amount of science and math possible. Learning that general education required sequences instead of singular courses had smacked you in the mouth. You erased the last word and fixed your handwriting three times before you finally decided you were finished, taking the paper up front to join Armin's and relishing in the sunlight hitting your face as you left the building.

"How'd you do?" Armin asked sweetly, perched on the nearest of many walkway-side benches along the campus. You saw a coffee in his hand. As you got closer, you noticed one for you sitting next to him. You smiled.

"I honestly think I did fucking awful. I haven't retained anything from Hange's class at all. She's not even a bad teacher -- I think it just isn't for me," you answered, taking a seat and lifting the coffee to your lips. It was your favorite.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He'd had a haircut only the day before; he always toyed with the prickly hair on the back of his neck for the first few days after one. You wondered if he'd ever get used to having his hair shorter. "I've offered to help you, you know. I always say I'll start studying with you, and you always say we will. Then I end up studying while you lay there on your phone halfway listening."

"Well, midterms are over now. Maybe I'll let you teach me a thing or two before finals. What's important is that spring break starts now." For a moment you could see yourself and Armin laid out on the beach, sun soaking into your skin with the soft crashing of waves present only a few yards away; that was the definition of heaven. You saw Armin grin as he started to pull his bag over his shoulder in preparation for your walk to his dorm. A common misconception about your friend was that he was a stick in the mud; however, this was decidedly the furthest thing from the truth. Although he was perfect academically -- 4.0 GPA, active in student organizations, one of the way-too-happy people that shows the freshmen around campus each year -- he knew how to have a good time. Perhaps it was years of corruption from you and your other friends (Eren and Jean, in particular), but outside of a god-awful science class, he was easily your favorite person to be around.

The two of you walked side by side across campus, chatting idly about the party you both planned to attend that night and the long drive that awaited you come morning. It was the perfect weather out, a sunny and comfortable 70 degrees. Armin was dressed in an old-looking T-shirt advertising some bedroom pop artist you were unfamiliar with, making it more than noticeable how much he had filled out since he bought it. Khaki shorts hung a few inches above his knees. You had to look up at him when you spoke, quite the contrast to the many years your friendship spanned before. His eyes, though, were still the same blue, and that was unlikely to change.

When you arrived at his building, you trudged up the stairs behind him, grateful you would soon be able to sit down. Walking everywhere was not your favorite activity, but the campus was quite small, and driving would be overkill. You waltzed into the room as you did nearly every day, throwing a hand up to greet Eren. He had his arm thrown lazily around a girl you didn't recognize, his half-up half-down hair falling in his face as he nodded back at you with a smile, eyes half-open and glossy red.

You practically threw yourself into Armin's bed, which was neatly made aside from the plush blue blanket that laid across the yellow duvet. You were quickly underneath it, making short work toward comfort as you nuzzled into a pillow. Armin took the time to put his things away and change into loose-fitting charcoal sweatpants before taking a seat at your side, fiddling with a time-passing puzzle game on his phone.

"I think we should just stay in instead of going to the party and taking that trip. I'm pretty comfortable, and I have plenty of sleep to catch up on," you told him, the joke barely present in your voice. He chuckled, leaning back across your legs onto the wall behind him.

"You're required to come to the party," Eren called over to you, taking his lips away from the nameless girl's neck. "We promised Jean. And you're required to come on the trip, because we can't afford the Airbnb without your charitable contribution."

"Besides," Armin chimed in, looking over at you, "you were lucky your request off got approved. Think of the poor souls that are stuck behind the register at Barnes and Noble this week. They wouldn't want you to use their vacation in vain."

"When you put it that way. . ." you laughed, checking the time on your phone. "What time did Jean tell us to come?"

"Nine," Armin responded quickly, switching from his game to Twitter. It was only 4:06, according to the white numbers above the picture of you and Armin at your high school graduation. You had quite a bit of time to kill.

"Want to watch a movie?" you asked the blond boy at your side. You were already holding the Xbox controller before he could reply. You got on Disney+, arguably your favorite part of being in Armin's dorm, then tossed the controller toward him to choose. He chose, as he always did, some superhero movie that you would pretend to hate and secretly love. He looked over at you and grinned wide, pressing play.

As the opening sequence rolled, you figured it wasn't the worst way to waste time.

---

The party was lame in the best way. Of course, no one outside of the typical circle had shown -- Connie and Sasha, Marco, the current girl hanging from Eren's hip (Ellie, maybe?), Ymir and Historia, and Eren's sister, Mikasa. Or, at least, he called her his sister. She was adopted -- and desperately in love with him -- and you wished he would avoid calling her that for the sake of saving face. Watching her sit angrily next to him while he toyed with the girl's hair was almost as awkward as the way Jean sat next to Mikasa, beer in his hand and flirting without shame. Connie, Sasha, and Ymir spent nearly the entire party trying to convince Historia and Marco to try smoking on Connie's new bong. Between all of these preoccupied people, you and Armin were left sharing a recliner, passing a blunt back and forth and discussing the plans for tomorrow.

Jean's apartment was trashed in the way a 19-year-old boy's would typically be, soda and beer cans lining the tables and clearly visible dust on his furniture. If you squinted, you'd see he was using his U.S. History textbook as a rolling tray. Professor Erwin would be disappointed.

Your thoughts had begun to become fuzzier and fuzzier. You could tell Armin was feeling the same by the way he giggled uncontrollably at a stupid joke Connie made across the room, causing you to chuckle. He was pretty when he laughed, white teeth poking past his lips as his clear blue eyes squinted into almost nothing. It didn't help that they were already half-closed, pink and red lining his blue irises. You and Armin were social smokers, and drinkers, and what came with that was the unfortunate fact that you were both very lightweight.

You listened absentmindedly to the soft R&B Jean was playing, obnoxiously enough, from Pandora on his TV. Every time an ad played, you died a little inside. You found yourself thanking those that didn't come tonight. Eventually, when you were all in some way intoxicated, you all gathered to watch a movie. You had never heard of it, but Jean and Eren were big fans, which meant it was likely some action film with a bit of plot if you squinted at it.

Before the title screen, you had your head laid on Armin's shoulder, gently drifting to sleep.

This was peace.

[jalapeno-princess]

Catching Feelings

(Look at him doing the bare minimum and still making me fling my panties across the room Damn you Im Jaebeom)

Jaebeom X Reader

Word Count: 20K (Guys this is the longest fic I have ever posted on here wtffff)(I just couldn’t stop writing omg)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (Sugar, spice and everything nice)

Summary: You’ve been in love with your best friend Jaebeom for longer than you can count on both your hands. Unfortunately, time never seemed to be on your side. Every time he was single, you were in a relationship and when he started seeing someone, you were by yourself. One day, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend in order to make his ex-girlfriend jealous but little do either of you know that the few days of fake dating will actually lead to something you would have never expected in your many years of knowing him for.

A/N: Hey guys! This was requested by the amazing @solarblooms​ one of the sweetest people I’ve met on here thank you so much for this request I’m sorry if it didn’t turn out the way you would have liked but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Happy reading!!

“Jaebeom, you can’t be serious. I don’t think you know what you’re asking me right now.”

“You’re acting as if I’m asking you to run a marathon y/n.” 

You let out a scoff before getting up and reaching for both coffee cups that you and Jaebeom drank from in the last hour. When he asked you for a favor, you didn’t think much of it. The older boy always asked you to do errands for him every now and then and as the caring and loyal person you were, you would do whatever he’d ask of you with no hesitation. 

Honestly, Jaebeom was the only person you would go out of your way to help; not only because he was your best friend, but because you knew he would do the same thing for you in a heartbeat. That was just how your friendship worked. The two of you have been friends for more years than you could count on both hands. This meant that you’ve seen each other through it all; drunken stupors, food poisoning, flu season, walking in on each other naked and failed relationships. The latter was the reason why you were both upset yet flustered at his sudden request. 

“I would rather complete the damn 24 mile run. Let me get this straight, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend in order to make Ella jealous? You’ve said a lot of stupid shit in all my years of knowing you but this has to be the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. Why me? Why not just get another girlfriend—she’ll know somethings up right off the bat. Do you really think she’s stupid enough to believe that you and I would actually start dating? You’re better off telling her that you’re in a relationship with a celebrity; that would be more probable.” 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help him out—especially because you weren’t the biggest fan of his ex-girlfriend. Jaebeom in more or less words had to be one of the most devastatingly handsome men you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. He also had one of the biggest and most genuine hearts—even if he’d come off as cold and intimidating. People say nobody’s perfect; and it was true that he did have his faults, but he also came pretty close to being practically flawless in your eyes. 

The reason why you were so hesitant towards helping him with this specific favor, was because you had feelings for him—and that was an understatement. You don’t remember exactly when you first began looking at Jaebeom in a different light, but when you started to crave his presence more and more, mentally outline his sharp features, found yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to kiss those pretty, plump lips of his; that’s when you knew that you no longer saw him as an older brother. 

You and Jaebeom met in second grade when he transferred over to your school after his family moved to your small town in order to open up their first coffee shop. He was very shy and extremely introverted. For the first two weeks since his arrival, he never really talked to any of the other students unless his teacher asked him to do so. 

At recess and at lunch, he normally sat by himself and the sight always made you feel sad. You didn’t have all that many friends, but you had enough to converse with and to keep you company. One day, you found yourself walking over to where he was sitting and placed your tray right down in front of him. You’ll never forget the way he looked up at you with the most adorable gaze of confusion. 

“Hi. I’m y/n. Is it okay if I sit here? You look pretty lonely.”

“Oh—um—go ahead.” 

The rest of your lunch time together was very quiet—he obviously didn’t seem like the type to want to start a conversation, especially with someone he wasn’t familiar with. You also didn’t know what to say to him; you didn’t want to make things even more awkward by saying something he didn’t particularly like. However, you felt at ease—the atmosphere was calming and for some reason, you felt it had to do with his presence. 

Something about Jaebeom made you feel pleasant; safe. When the bell rang to signal that lunch was over, you were right about to stand up in attempts to throw away your lunch until you heard the faintest call of your name. You turned around to look at the mysterious boy and hummed in curiosity. 

“This was nice—I um—I’m not the most talkative person. I’m more of a listener. If it’s okay with you, would you maybe want to—be friends?” 

You gave him a toothy grin before nodding profusely; excited with the idea of getting to know him and being the first person he wanted to start a friendship with. 

“I’d like that.” 

From that day on, the two of you were attached to the hip; your mothers would refer to the both of you as magnets. Everywhere you went, anyone could expect the older boy to be right there with you. He was more than just your best friend—he was your safety blanket, your confidant—in a metaphorical sense, he was like your umbrella on a rainy day. 

His arms were your shelter, you would find solace in him whenever you were having a rough day. You felt in your heart that the two of you were soulmates; even if your relationship was strictly platonic. It wasn’t until he got his first girlfriend back in your freshman year of high school did you realize that you saw him as more than just a friend. 

Watching him act so sweetly towards his girlfriend made you extremely jealous and you lied to yourself for years thinking it was because you were afraid to lose him as a friend if his girlfriends decided that they didn’t like your position in his life. You also tried to tell yourself it was because you had yet to experience being in a relationship and you just wanted to feel the love and adoration Jaebeom never failed to show to his first girlfriend. 

Even after all these years, through the few boyfriends and one night stands that you’ve had, your feelings for Jaebeom never faltered. If anything, they only grew stronger when you realized that nobody could ever make you as happy or make you feel as cared for as Jaebeom has for almost two decades now. Nobody could ever take his place—no matter how hard you tried to get over him. Your best friend had a reputation of being a textbook fuckboy. 

His first relationship was the last relationship he put his heart and soul in to. Every relationship after that was doomed before it could really even start. He had a bad tendency of leading a lot of girls on; completing them and making empty promises before taking what he wanted—fulfilling his carnal urges and leaving them in the dust. This went on throughout the entirety of high school. As his best friend and the only girl he seemingly put on a pedestal, you had a hard time understanding why he continued to fool around with half of the student body and treat a lot of these girls like they were nothing important. 

What did he get from cheating on and breaking the hearts of all these poor innocent girls? Especially since he was so kind and soft towards you. He’s never said it to you out loud, but you were his biggest weakness. He would go through hell and back just to keep that beautiful smile he adored so much permanently on your face. There were times where you questioned the thought of him reciprocating your same feelings. Whenever a guy showed interest in you or even when you started seeing someone, he was very verbal about how he didn’t approve of anyone you were involved with; whether the relationship was romantic or not. 

Even when you were paired up with other guys in projects, he wasn’t too fond of the idea of you being alone with your classmate—so he’d find himself tagging along with you and your partner whenever you’d meet up with them. You were sure it was just his way of being protective of you; he’s always been like that and you were well aware that he had no intention on stopping his overbearing ways at all for that matter. You were afraid that pretending to be his girlfriend would only make you desire actually experiencing the real thing. 

There was no way you’d allow yourself to go through that kind of trauma; holding hands with him, going on dates with him—maybe even getting to kiss him. To what extent was he expecting the two of you to go through? How far did he expect you both to go? He must have thought about the kind of pda you would have to do together and you couldn’t help but grow curious at how he felt about being intimate with you, even if it was all just an act. 

You released a frustrated sigh; if you said no, you knew he would continue bothering you until you finally gave in or worse—he would actually go along with finding someone else. Whatever your decision was, you’d lose both ways. Might as well go with the one that was less painful. 

“What’s in it for me?” 

He was quick to stand up and made his way towards you—sporting the biggest grin on his face. You could tell he was surprised at your question, but it didn’t matter. His smile did tug on your heartstrings and you began to feel something in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never felt before. It was hard to tell exactly what you were feeling, but it was a good feeling. He surprised you by picking you up in a hug and swinging you around absentmindedly. 

“Anything—I’ll do anything you want me to. God, y/n, you are amazing. You don’t understand how much this means to me. You’re the best person to exist. Thank you so much!” 

He explained to you that one of his good friends from high school; one you weren’t all too familiar with was getting married. Unfortunately, his ex-girlfriend was also going to be in attendance. She was the first girl in four years that your best friend genuinely seemed to care about. He stopped hooking up with and talking to other girls once they started dating. You were jealous whenever you’d hear him go in to depth about the love he had for her; even more envious when you’d have to see them kiss in front of you. 

Sure, you did not particularly care for any of Jaebeom’s partners because you wanted to be in their place. You craved—desired to be the girl who got to love him—who got to receive his love and appreciate the many sacrifices he would make in order to make his significant happy. As his best friend, he never failed to give you all of his attention. If you ever needed help, he didn’t even have time for a second thought, if you needed him, he was there. 

Even if it meant ditching school or leaving work early. You had a feeling that no one in their right minds; no matter how close they were to someone or how much that person meant to them, would do the things for them the way Jaebeom never once hesitated to do for you. However, your distaste for Ella went beyond jealousy. There was no doubt Jaebeom cared for her in ways that he’s never cared about any other girl—well, besides you. He would pick her up and drop her off to and from work, he would call her on his breaks to make sure she was getting enough rest in between classes, he would buy her cute little trinkets and even prepared lunch for her. 

You’ve never seen him put in so much effort for one of his girlfriends before and it honestly worried you; you felt as if there was a chance she might be the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Unbeknownst to both you and the older boy, Jaebeom had actually met his match. Memories of the night that he found out she wasn’t the perfect girl he thought she was came flashing through your mind like it was just yesterday. 

Four months ago, you were out in your living room watching a few murder mystery documentaries—seconds away from falling asleep when you heard a loud pounding on your door. At first, the sound startled you. The only people who came over to your apartment were your parents, your siblings, Jaebeom and a few other friends. You knew your best friend had a graveyard shift tonight; so you crossed him off of your list as to who it could be. However, when you looked through the peephole, you could’ve sworn your heart actually sank to the bottom of your stomach. You wasted no time in opening the door and pulled Jaebeom in to your embrace before either of you could say anything to one another. His eyes were red and puffy; there were dried tears on his cheek quickly being replaced by many more fresh ones. 

From past experiences, you knew not to ask him what was wrong. You were going to wait until he told you, even if you were very curious as to what could have happened. It didn’t even cross your mind that it had to do with his relationship. The two of you flopped on to your couch and he quickly threw himself in to your arms. He might have been the dominant one who always did the protecting, but this time—he was the one who needed to be held and that’s exactly what you did. 

After half an hour of quiet sobs and rubbing his back as he heaved and hiccuped, he finally confessed as to what made him so upset. He didn’t have to really say anything—just hearing the words “Ella cheated on me” sent you in to a furious rage. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t see this coming. There were a couple of scenarios when you felt like something was wrong, or that she was hiding something. When Jaebeom first introduced you to one another, you immediately got bad vibes from her. She was the type of person who talked so highly about herself. You never understood what your best friend saw in her. 

Sure, she was pretty, but it was a basic kind of pretty. Like, if you were to see her on the street, you honestly wouldn’t do a double take. Ella was also very disrespectful; she was constantly on her phone while you tried to talk to her, she never said please or thank you and she was very verbal about her disinterest in certain things. One time, Jaebeom had you tag along with them to a restaurant and she complained about not being served within the first couple of minutes. 

That experience alone made your ill-feelings towards her grow even stronger; but you never wanted to tell Jaebeom in fear of him disagreeing with you. It was adamant that he really liked her. When it were just you and Jaebeom alone, he would find ways to bring her up in the conversation even if the topic had nothing to do with her and on the days that you just so happened to be with them, he would always feel the need to touch her or to compliment her. It was disgusting—but not because you were jealous. 

You had a gut feeling that she wasn’t who she portrayed herself out to be in front of Jaebeom. If he were to excuse himself to use the bathroom, her fake smile would immediately drop as she would glare at you. Then, she would always seem to be texting someone. There wasn’t anything wrong with her being in contact with other people; for all you assumed, it could have been a friend or a family member. 

However, the way she would bite her lip or smile while rapidly typing back and forth with someone made it evident that there was a possibility it was another guy. You let it go though, even if you were dying to tell Jaebeom of your speculations. He told you that he caught her making out with another man outside of her apartment as he went over to surprise her. Jaebeom wasn’t a pushover or the type of person to beat around the bush; he confronted her as soon as he parked the car and screamed at her—telling her that she ruined everything and that he would have done anything for her. 

There was nothing you hated more than to see Jaebeom so emotional and broken; especially because he was the definition of a force to be reckoned with. This was the first time in your many years of friendship that you e seen him so worked up before. That memory of seeing him at his weakest is what got you to give in to him. You didn’t think it was going to work; although you had a feeling Ella didn’t like you from the moment you met her, you didn’t think it was because she was jealous of you. 

It was understandable though; you may have been very understanding, but you didn’t know how it would feel to be in her shoes. If your boyfriend had a female best friend, it was only natural that you would feel weird and assume the worst. But Jaebeom was honest with every girl that he fooled around with; you were his number one girl no matter what. He even ended a couple of flings specifically because the girls would give him an ultimatum to choose between seeing them and being friends with you. Of course, Jaebeom chose you every single time. 

“There will be four events we have to attend. The first two are just luncheons, then there’s the rehearsal dinner and the actual wedding. I’ve already purchased all of my outfits. Since you’re helping me out, you and I can go shopping tomorrow and I’ll buy you anything from anywhere—I mean, don’t go crazy. I just paid off my car. But if you have a couple of dresses you already own that you’d prefer wearing, then that’s pretty cool too. I was thinking we could match so it would be a little more convincing. Oh—and um—we’re going to have to be affectionate. I’m sure you’re already aware of that. If it makes you uncomfortable, then we don’t have to do anything other than hold hands and hug. Not anything we’re not used to anyways.” 

You could only hope your cheeks weren’t flushing with pink from his words. It was expected that you’d have to have some form of skin ship and like he said, the two of you were used to touching one another. Sometimes you’d cuddle up while lying in bed together or he would wrap his arms around your waist and place his chin on your shoulder but it never occurred to you that you would now have to do these things in front of other people.

“I’m fine with that. So, when exactly is the wedding?” He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment; something you’ve noticed he would do whenever he did something wrong or had something to hide. You’ve known each other for so long that you knew the meaning behind each and every one of his mannerisms. 

“Uh—Next week Saturday.” 

Your eyes widened in shock; that didn’t give you much time to prepare anything. Especially not your sensitive heart. 

“Im Jaebeom are you serious?! Why didn’t you say anything earlier—“

“I’m sorry!! But I didn’t think you would actually agree. It took me a solid three weeks to build the courage and ask you. Your outfit is the only thing you have to worry about. I’ve already responded to the rsvp for the both of us—“ 

You scoffed before crossing your arms in disbelief. Im Jaebeom was really a piece of work. How did you put up with him for so many years? 

“So you knew I was going to say yes.” 

He shook his head; but the small smirk that left as soon as it rose on his face made it clear that yes, he had a feeling you were going to agree. Even if he had to beg you for hours on end. 

“I was hoping you would want to do something so big for me because I’m your best friend and you love me.” You took in a deep breath and felt your heartbeat begin to increase. 

If only he knew just how true his statement was. 

For the week leading up to the wedding events, Jaebeom came over to your apartment practically every single day. It wasn’t something you weren’t used to; he visited so often that a lot of his things were scattered throughout your space but you liked it that way. However, he told you that he wanted to practice being intimate with you. If you were cooking the two of you dinner, he’d stand right behind you and pulled your body up against his. 

He began buying you bouquets of your favorite flowers, constantly held your hand even if the two of you were sitting down; he also would pull you on to his lap and stated to hide his face in the crook of your neck. One night, he even placed a few kisses up against your jaw and you found yourself ultimately regretting your decision to assist him. The proximity and constant affection only made your feelings for him deepen if it were even possible. 

As much as you wanted to milk every moment with Jaebeom being a fake couple together, you were afraid of getting your heartbroken once this act was all over. The days just seemed to come and go in an instant; school and work took up most of your day and once you were done, you and Jaebeom would watch movies together or play a few board games. Before you knew it, the day of the first luncheon came and you found yourself getting ready. You were never fond of wearing makeup; it wasn’t that you thought you didn’t need it, you just hated having to put it on and it saved you a lot of money not having to purchase any. 

It wasn’t like there was anyone in your life that you had to impress otherwise. Jaebeom made it known that you were naturally beautiful. You would always roll your eyes at his comment and think that he was only saying that because he was your best friend. Nonetheless, his compliments always made your heart flutter. While the two of you went shopping for dresses, he made it clear that he liked every single outfit you tried on. You tried your best not to make it obvious that his words were slowly driving you to the brink of insanity. 

Why did he have to say all these nice things about you and make you feel like you were more to him than just his best friend? It was natural for friends to compliment each other, but for him to say that you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid his eyes on; on top of having the most “ridiculous curves”, you didn’t think friends would say such things. 

Right as you were putting the finishing touches of blush on your cheeks, the knock on your door broke you out of your thoughts. You gave yourself a couple of seconds to put yourself together and when you finally opened the door, it’s as if your soul left your body. The only time you’ve ever seen your best friend in a tux was at both junior and senior prom and even then, he broke the rules in the way that he wore his attire. 

He didn’t even wear a tie and his dress shirt was unbuttoned, showing partial of his chest—but none of your teachers had the courage to tell him he was breaking dress code. His hair was slicked back, his suit was crisp and wrinkle free and he even put on a tie this time. You didn’t think it was possible for him to look even more handsome than he usually was, but right now, he looked like a Greek God. He was at peak attractiveness and it was taking every bone in your body not to scream in sexual frustration. 

“Hey. You look beautiful—really beautiful. Ready to go?” 

You simply nodded your head; afraid that you might say the wrong thing if you were to speak up. The car ride was quiet, other than the jazz playlist going on in the background. To your delight and dismay, he brought his free hand to your lap and gently grazed your thigh with his thumb. Your breath hitched at his touch; his hand only went higher on your leg the longer he drove and you were sure you were just seconds away from placing his hand up to where you wanted him the most. Unfortunately, the hotel that the lunch was being held at was closer to your apartment that you had expected—but maybe it was a blessing in disguise. 

“I’m really glad you chose that dress. I think it was the best one of the many you tried on.” Once he parked, he wasted no time in walking over to your side of the car and opening the door for you; helping you out and intertwining your fingers together. 

“Showtime—Babe.” 

God, this was going to be a long day. 

As soon as you both entered the lobby and made your way up to the ballroom, you were quick to spot some familiar faces. A lot of Jaebeom’s friends were there—some you knew, some that you were also friends with and some you have never met before. When your mutual friend BamBam saw your intertwined hands, he had to cover his mouth in order to keep himself from squealing. 

“No fucking way. I knew the two of you would end up together one day. I fucking knew it. Jackson owes me $20 dollars. Ah, I’m so happy for you both. You look good together. I can’t wait to tell everyone. Let’s go find them shall we?” 

The lunch actually went off without a hitch. Thankfully, the groom sat you and Jaebeom at a table with BamBam, Jackson, Mark, Jinyoung, Youngjae and Yugyeom. Jinyoung and Youngjae brought their girlfriends, so you decided to get to know them while the guys got reacquainted with each other. Since it was just a lunch, the day went by pretty quickly. After saying your goodbyes to everyone at your table and making plans to go on double dates now that everyone knew—or at least were convinced that you and Jaebeom were dating, he grabbed your purse before reaching for your hand and led you out to his car. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” You shrugged indifferently before scrunching your nose. 

“Ella wasn’t there though. Are you sure she’s going to be a part of this wedding?”

“Positive. She’s close with both the bride and the groom. Maybe she was busy today. Probably fucking that asshole of a coworker—“

“Hey, don’t start. Please. She didn’t deserve you Jaebeom. You are an amazing—wonderful—otherworldly human being. Any girl would be lucky to have you. I know it sucks being cheated on, but maybe this was a blessing—don’t give me that look. Hear me out. I don’t want to assume that she’s been cheating on you all this time, but it’s better you found out sooner than to do something stupid like ask her to marry you and find out later that she was being unfaithful.” 

You don’t know what got over you in that moment; whether it was seeing him on the verge of tears, or just being in the moment after all the touches you’ve shared with each other today, but you got on your tippy toes and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. 

“You’ll be okay Jaebeom. She’ll be nothing but a memory once this week is over. Let’s get you home.” 

The next luncheon came—still no sign of Ella, yet Jaebeom grew clingier than the day before. It also seem as if he genuinely enjoyed introducing you as his girlfriend to some of his friends. You weren’t going to lie, you were enjoying the chivalry; none of your ex-boyfriends ever pulled out a chair for you or took off their jackets for you to wear. You could also feel eyes on you from who you assumed to be girls who either had a crush on Jaebeom at one point or even had a fling with him. 

Although you were the one he had a protective grip on, you did get jealous knowing that some of these girls got to experience what Jaebeom was like behind closed doors. A lot of the girls in high school were extremely vocal about what sex with Jaebeom was like and you’d find yourself wanting to know yourself. It was silly for you to think you would ever have the chance to be writhing underneath him as you begged him to do anything to smooth the fire burning in your core—but a girl could dream right? 

Finally the reason why you and Jaebeom were putting on an act for the last few days came in to play when you walked in to the dining hall together and saw Ella sitting with a couple of other guests. You assumed that the guy whose arm was around her shoulder was the same one Jaebeom caught her cheating with. You clenched your jaw in anger and said a little prayer; wishing for some self control. It wasn’t even you who was cheating on—yet you wanted to walk over to her table and yank her by her poorly done ponytail. Really, what did Jaebeom see in her? 

He was too busy getting you both signed in that he wasn’t able to see what was driving you up the walls, but you wanted him to know she was there and that she had unfortunate company. After you were giving your table number, you gently tugged on the bottom of Jaebeom’s suit in order to get his attention and gave him the unpleasant news. His reaction shocked you though; he winked and gave you a smirk. 

“I have the hottest date here—I’m not bothered one bit. Come on, I want to talk to Jackson about something.” He brought his hand to your lower back and guided you to the table Jackson was sitting at. 

“Damn y/n, you look amazing. You’re making all of us look bad—the bride will probably complain that you’re stealing her spotlight.” 

You politely thanked him before softly giggling at his comment. If only you weren’t so busy admiring the center piece and the party favors, you would have been able to see the way Jaebeom was mentally sending daggers towards his best friend’s neck. You did notice that Jaebeom brought his seat closer to yours and his hand that was on his knee was now gripping at your thigh. 

To an outsider; it might have been a sexual gesture, but under these circumstances—it just seemed off. Knowing his tendencies of getting angry, you didn’t pry at him. If something was bothering him, he would tell you when he was ready to. You just assumed he was now coming to terms that he was in the same room with his ex-girlfriend and the guy she cheated on him with. Although he seemed out of it for the first hour; especially when his friends tried to star conversation with him, everything settled down once the emcee announced that it was time for everyone to head to the dance floor. You elbowed the other boy and motioned your head towards the stage. 

“I want to dance. Can we please?” He furrowed his brows and released a long sigh. 

“You know I hate dancing y/n. That’s going to be a hard pass.” It was your turn to sigh, but then you looked across the table and saw your three other friends moving along to the Drake song that was now filling the room. 

“Fine. I’ll just ask Jackson. I’m sure he’ll want to—“

“Don’t you fucking dare. You’re mine damnit. Fuck—whatever, let’s go.” 

His words confused you; sure, the two of you were pretending to be a couple so there was chance he was just playing along, but to hear him say that you were his so confidently, without hesitation made you feel as though there was more meaning behind it. Once you found a place that the two of you could dance comfortably in, you began to let loose and allowed your body to flow freely. Your hair swung all around and your hips kept up with the movement of the song. 

Although he seemed uptight back at the table, it wasn’t long until a smile rose on his face as his hands slowly made their way down to your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and continued your movements. The first couple songs were very upbeat and the two of you danced carelessly; you even had a feeling you both looked like fishes flopping out of water but you didn’t care. You were genuinely having so much fun; something that always happened when you were with Jaebeom. After fifth song finished, the Dj played a slower song at the request of the bride. 

As soon as boys to men came through the speakers, you didn’t know how to react—nor did you know how you were going to dance along to this song in particular. “I’ll make love to you” was the last song you expected to hear tonight, especially because you’ve been sexually aroused since you left Jaebeom’s apartment. Luckily, you didn’t have to move at all—Jaebeom pulled you closer to him and did the unthinkable. You were always a big fan of his hands. 

He’s always had such pretty fingers and you found yourself admiring them on many occasions; yet you weren’t prepared to feel them gripping tightly on both your ass cheeks. You looked up at him in shock but right before you could react, his lips were on yours. You’d find yourself daydreaming about how it would feel to kiss Jaebeom on many occasions; more than you’d liked to admit out loud. 

Whenever he would talk, your eyes would always find their way to his mouth. Every time he would bite and nibble on his lips, you would picture what it would be like to do it yourself. However, no daydream could ever prepare you for the actual thing. His lips were soft against yours; he always felt the need to apply chapstick and you were thankful that he was the type to care about things like that. His movements were rushed; as if the world was going to end and the last thing he wanted to do was kiss you. It was a sensation you wouldn’t be able to fathom in to words. 

Kissing him right now made you feel like you’ve been missing out on so many years of being able to feel him—actually feel him. You weren’t sure why he felt the need to attach your lips together out of the blue, but you weren’t complaining. He smiled in to the kiss when he felt you put more pressure; molding your lips all but gently against his. You ran your hands up and down his chest and as soon as you heard him moan, that’s when you decided to pull away in fear that you would literally rip his shirt off of him right then and there. 

“Jaebeom—“

“I’m sorry, I had to. You just looked so breathtakingly beautiful and seeing you so happy made me act out—you don’t know what you do to me do you? I’m in love with you baby. So fucking in love with you y/n and I have been for a really long time. I hope that kiss helped prove my feelings for you—but if you need more validation, I’d be happy to give you a more physical demonstration. Preferably with our clothes scattered on my bedroom floor while I rail the shit out of you.” 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let out a groan at both his love confession and his plans for the rest of the night. Were you dreaming? You had to be—there was no way Jaebeom actually confessed to you that he was in love with you. How could he have been in love with you? He never made it seem like he harbored any romantic feelings for you at all the entire duration of your friendship. You stole one more kiss from the corner of his lips before nodding embarrassingly quickly. 

“Take me Im Jaebeom. I’m yours. I love you and I’m in love with you too. Let me just run to the bathroom really quickly then we can go and you can have your way with me.” 

He allowed you to head over to the restroom while he went back to your table and made up an excuse as to why you had to leave so early. You tried to hurry up with your movements; the desire to finally become one with Jaebeom was seeping through your entire body. When you first entered the bathroom, you were the only one inside. As you heard the door open while you were ready to leave the stall, you didn’t think much of it. 

That was until you finally made your way towards the sink and saw just who entered the bathroom. There were so many thoughts running through your mind in that moment; so many things you wanted to say to her, but you had other thoughts occupying your mind. Ones that made your core throb and took your attention away from the girl who was obviously wanting to say something. 

“Nice to see you again y/n. You look great. I love your dress—I think I saw it on the sale rack at forever 21 am I mistaken?” You scoffed. 

“Yeah, it was right next to your cheap ass lipstick and generic brand of eye shadow.” She was quick to cross her arms and you knew your words got to her—but her anger didn’t last long. 

“So you and Jaebeom—can’t say I didn’t see this coming. He would never shut up about you and followed you around like a lost puppy; what a pathetic little boy. It was painfully obvious that he liked you. And you wonder why I cheated. He never liked me to begin with. I never understood why he got in a relationship with me when his heart adamantly belonged to you. Witnessing how you would constantly stare at him though, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that you were just as obsessed. It was a waste of my time though; the sex was underwhelming and his dick was extremely tiny. Good luck with my sloppy seconds.” 

Images of you socking her in the face were now filling up your mind—it would be so easy to just slap her or step on her foot, but what good would it do? You’d only look like a bad person and taint Jaebeom’s reputation. Plus, she could press charges and you would cause such a mess at the party. Right as she was about to walk out, you decided to make your own comment. 

“Funny you say that considering that I can’t even fit him entirely inside of my mouth. The tip of his cock would always touch the back of my throat and there was still so much of him that my mouth couldn’t cover. Oh, and don’t even get me started on how good he fucks me. If it’s any consolation, Jaebeom is an amazing boyfriend and an even better lover. He treats me and eats me so fucking good. I’m sorry he didn’t think much of you to show you the same affection. Ah, before I go—he told me that you don’t taste all that good—bitter and sour if I remember his exact words. I’d get that checked if I were you.” 

Your words felt much more better than a slap would have felt; even if you were blatantly telling lies, you felt as though a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Jaebeom looked at you in confusion and it’s as if you knew he was going to ask you what took you so long. You cupped his cheek and placed a chaste kiss on his nose while saying goodbye to everyone on the table. 

“I’m sorry to hear that your dad has a stomach ulcer y/n. I hope he feels better soon.” 

Jaebeom was lucky that you were the kind of person to catch on to things quickly; you weren’t all too happy that he lied in order for the two of you to leave without being teased for what you both planned on doing, but you needed him just as badly as he claimed to have needed you. He didn’t even let you take two steps before roughly pressing his hard on against your ass and licking stripes along your neck; only adding to the euphoria you were already sensing as you made out with each other on the dance floor. 

“I don’t think I can make it back to either of our places—I need you now.” You were about to ask him where he planned on taking you, but your questions were answered once he began pulling you towards the direction of the lobby. 

“Jaebeom, you’re not seriously going to rent a hotel room for one night just so we can fuck—“

“That’s exactly what I plan on doing baby. If I have to wait even just one more minute, I’m going to cum in my pants just at the sight of your tits busting out of your dress. I’d prefer to come inside of you—plus it’s more romantic than what I had in mind. Honestly I was planning to make love to you in a family bathroom or the backseat of my car. I’ve waited to make love to you for longer than I want to say out loud. Just know that I’ve been dreaming of burying myself inside of your pussy for at least six years now. Our first time together is a night I will remember for the rest of my life and I think it would be even more memorable in a fancy setting don’t you think?” 

His quick movements towards the front desk almost gave you whiplash, but it only heightened your excitement. He began tapping his foot impatiently as the receptionist took her time typing in his information. You had to stifle back a giggle at the veins that developed on his neck. After what felt like an hour having to wait for her to get you both a room, he yanked the key from her hand and ran towards the hallway leading to the elevators. You were sure the receptionist caught on to what the two of you were going to do once you headed up to the hotel room—but you couldn’t care less. 

All that you could think about was finally getting to experience what you’ve been dreaming about for the last few years. You were going to make love to your best friend and you couldn’t be more excited. He didn’t even wait for the elevators to close before forcing you up against the wall, pressing his knee in between your legs in order to get as close to you as he physically could. His hands were gripping tightly at your waist while he attacked your neck and jaw with wet kisses. The feeling of his cock pressing up against your clothed core was a feeling you’ve never experienced before.

You’ve had sex enough times to say you had quite a bit of knowledge on how to please a man. Many of your partners told you that you were a professional at giving head and even more amazing at riding dick. None of their confessions meant anything to you—the only person whose opinion mattered was Jaebeom. You were growing insecure at the idea of not being able to take care of him or pleasure him in the way that previous girls he’s been with might have done. As soon as the doors opened, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder; earning himself a loud gasp. 

“Sorry baby; I can’t wait anymore. Those heels look amazing on you but fuck, they only make you move slower. However, I think it would be extremely sexy for you to keep them on while I fuck you.” 

He shoved the keycard inside of the door and you didn’t even get to look around the room; he threw you down on the couch and climbed on top of you. The toothy grin he gave you made your stomach fill with butterflies. You’ve loved him for such a long time; if you were to tell your ten-year-old self that Im Jaebeom, the boy you’ve been crushing on since the second grade when he spent months tying your shoes for you until you actually learned how, reciprocated your same feelings, she would probably laugh in your face. But his comforting touch as he ran his hands along your arms made it all the more real that Jaebeom did in fact love you and you were finally going to experience the love you’ve been wanting to feel since you were a little girl. 

“I know I’m seconds away from ripping this dress off of you, but since this is our first time together, I think it would be best for me to explain my love for you—even if only for a couple of minutes. You can hold off from needing to feel my dick inside of you can’t you?” You elbowed him in his ribs before flicking his forehead. 

“You’re the one who is spending at least $200 to have sex with me just because you were too impatient to wait to get home.”

“Best $200 I’ve ever spent. Now, as much as I love hearing that sweet voice of yours, please be quiet so I can hurry up and go in to vivid detail about how, when and why I started having feelings for you. I’m not going to lie and say I’ve been in love with you from the day you first approached me back in the cafeteria, but the fact that you wanted to keep me company because you hated seeing me alone made my heart swell up. I knew you were going to be someone special in my life. I think I realized that I was in love with you right after my first break up. I developed a crush on you back in the 7th grade and I’m sure I saw you as more than just a friend even before then. I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship if I told you how I felt and found out that you didn’t reciprocate my same feelings. I know this is far fetched and hard to believe, but I’m telling the truth; every single girl that I’ve been with was my pathetic way of trying to get over you. Obviously, it never worked. They were never you. Nobody could ever be you baby. Nobody could make me feel so important—so happy—so loved and genuinely cared for. I’m happiest when I’m with you and I feel so fucking empty when we’re not together.” He brought his fingers right below your eyelids and wiped away a few stray tears that you didn’t even know built up. 

“God, you’re so fucking cute. Anyway, I would always find myself staring at you. No matter what I was doing or who I was with, my eyes would always gravitate toward you. You’re so beautiful—I cannot stress this enough. You are the most beautiful girl to exist, I need you to know that. And it goes on your physical beauty; you have one of the biggest, most generous hearts and you never fail to make me laugh and smile at the most silliest things. I’m sorry for being such an idiot—I should have just grown the balls earlier and told you how I felt. I wouldn’t have wasted all my time fooling around with girls I didn’t care about. I never felt like I deserved you—that’s why I didn’t try I guess. I saw all the guys you developed crushes on and I was nothing like them. So I just assumed you wouldn’t look at me that way. But none of that matters now. I’m yours and you’re mine. I hope you know you’re stuck with me now that we’re together. You’re all I want and have wanted for almost my entire life y/n. I went through so many changes, but you are the only thing that stayed constant. When I first asked you to be my fake girlfriend, I would have never thought we would end up here. I promise; I didn’t plan this entire thing to get you to fall in love with me, but I’m really happy I did. Even happier knowing that you love me. Can you say it again? I don’t think I will ever get used to hearing you tell me you love me.”

You pulled him down and smashed your mouth against his; licking his bottom lip as a nonverbal way to ask for entrance. His movements were quick as he mirrored yours; allowing your tongues to dance in sync together while grinding his pelvis against yours. 

“I love you Jaebeom. I’ve always loved you—mmmmm—always going to love you—now fuck me damnit.” He leaned back and gave you a flirtatious smirk, one you were seconds away from smacking off of his face. As emotional as his confession made you, you were now desiring for him to touch you; to really touch you, to feel him enrapture himself deep inside of you. 

“Sit up baby—I bought this dress because you looked so good in it, but I’m sure you’ll look so much better without it—and I was right. Holy shit y/n—what the fuck—how are you so fucking perfect are you even real?!” 

Your dress was flown across of the room, leaving you in only your underwear and although you weren’t the most confident in your body, the way Jaebeom was looking at you with so much lust; as if he was going to devour you sent your entire body in to a frenzy. 

“Why aren’t you wearing a bra? It’s like you want to kill me. Your tits are huge—so pretty. You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to have you like this and now that I do, I’m not going easy on you.” He grabbed at both of your breasts, kneading and molding at them all but gently while leaving sloppy kisses right below your ear. When you felt him pinch at both nipples before twisting them between his calloused fingers, you let out a soft whimper. 

“Jaebeom—“

“Yes baby? Everything okay?” You gave him an eager nod as you tilted your head back in pleasure. 

“Feels so mmm—so good.” Your words only made his movements quicken and to your surprise, he lowered himself to your chest and brought one of your breasts in to his mouth while continuing to fondle the other. You weren’t a stranger to breast play; you loved whenever your partner would twist your nipples or suck on your titties, but it was different now that Jaebeom was doing it. It was otherworldly—you couldn’t even take in just how wonderful it felt. His tongue swirled around your hardened nipple and before you could even say anything, he brought your nipple in between his teeth. 

“Oh God—“

Feeling him hum against your naked chest all the while sucking fervently on your mound made your head spin. You hated that you could already feel your orgasm building up only minutes in to foreplay; but it was expected. Jaebeom already took care of you as if it was his life duty to do so; this time was no different. He dragged his fingers along your stomach; only adding on to your excitement and desire. 

His fingers were cold against your skin and you knew he was teasing you seeing that his movements were extremely slow. As much as you were enjoying the attention he was showing to your breasts, the fire burning in your core needed to be put out or else you’d really lose it. 

“Jaebeom—babe—“ He abruptly pulled away at the sound of the pet name and gave you his signature grin; the one you’ve been in love with for so many years now. 

“Everything alright y/n? I’m not hurting you am I? The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable. Did you need me to slow down?” His laughter filled the room at the sight of you shaking your head faster than usual. 

“I’m fine. Trust me, it’s the complete opposite. I’m going to need you to touch me—“

“But I am touching you. I can’t seem to stop touching you.” Upset with his response, you decided to take matters in to your own hands and brought his hand down to your entrance. You made sure that he could feel just how wet you were and you could only hope that it would get him to give you what you wanted. 

“Holy shit—you’re soaking. All because I played with your titties for a little while? You’re going to be the death of me.”

“If you don’t hurry up and eat me, you’ll be the death of me. We have the rest of our lives for you to tease me—please just take me already. I’m going to tell you right now, I don’t usually beg during sex Im—and don’t expect it to be a reoccurring thing either. This is just built up sexual tension acting for me. So either you hurry up or—FUCK—shit shit—Jae—“ 

You were so heated in that moment; all you were focusing on was scolding him and trying to coerce him to make a move on your pussy that you failed to notice him making his way down towards your thigh until you felt him lick a long stripe along your core. You didn’t even realize he practically ripped your panty down the middle and as much as you wanted to be mad at him because it was expensive, you just wanted to feel him inside of you. 

At this point, you didn’t care whether it was his tongue, his fingers or his cock; you just needed to feel something—anything to help soothe the tingling sensation in between your legs. His tongue was warm against your entrance; he placed a soft kiss and looked up at you with the most devilish grin you’ve ever seen before he began nibbling on your folds. A breathy moan fell from your lips as he continued his movements; getting eaten out was an experience you hardly ever got to indulge in. 

Most of the guys expected you to suck them off, but there were only two or three that ever returned the favor. You weren’t going to lie, the few experiences you’ve had with other guys were great—they all seemed to know what they were doing at the time. However, with the way that Jaebeom was nibbling on your clit, flicking and sucking on the nub gently and even inserting two of his fingers deeply inside of your cunt—all of your ex-lovers seemed like beginners. Jaebeom was a professional; he knew exactly where to lick and to suck; his fingers were shoved in and out of you at a rapid pace and it didn’t take long for him to reach your g-spot. 

This was the first time anyone ever accomplished finding your g-spot, let alone eating you out so well. If only you saw his ex after actually experiencing receiving head from him—you could have went even further in to detail just how amazing he was. His hums against your entrance made it clear that he was enjoying this just as much as you were. 

“You—you have no flaws do you baby? You taste—so sweet—so fucking delicious. I could eat you out for hours—days if I put my heart in to it. Honestly, I think I’m having more fun than you are—I love how soaking you are. Your juices are filling up my mouth deliciously. You’re so fucking tight—I can’t wait to feel you wrap this pretty pussy around my cock. How does it feel? How does my tongue feel? I need words y/n.” 

You pulled on his hair as soon as he returned back to his place and reattached his lips to your cunt. He playfully blew his warm breath against your core and with the wait you were clenching your legs around his shoulders, you knew you were so close. 

“Feels—so good Jae—I’m so close—please—faster—“ He flicked at your clit with his fingers and licked his way back and forth along your folds. Before you knew it, you let out a whine and soon you were releasing your juices all over his tongue. He lapped up your cum and sucked on both his fingers; releasing them with a loud pop. Once he was done, he made his way up to you and brought his hands up to your mouth. 

“Open your mouth and suck—I want you to experience just how amazing you taste. You’re so fucking sexy—I’m not usually a huge fan of hair pulling but shit—you can yank on my hair as much as you want to babe. I’m gonna need to eat this pussy at least five times a day.” 

The thought made your eyes roll to the back of your head and honestly—you were all for it. Seeing your essence on his lips made you giggle; how could someone look so cute while doing something so sinful. You stole a kiss from the corner of his mouth before leaning towards him and unbuttoning his dress shirt. 

“It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re fully clothed.” You tried to take it off as fast as you could but it was hard and he wasn’t of any help; he just laughed at your misfortune and watched as you struggled trying to take out the buttons. 

“I never would have thought watching someone unbutton my shirt would be this hot to watch, maybe I should wear dress shirts all the time—“

“Or maybe you should fucking help me instead of just ogling Jaebeom. If You don’t dick me down in the next two minutes, I’m gonna leave you hard and alone in this room.” 

Normally you weren’t as dominant or confident as you were now; you were always so submissive even outside of sex. Whatever someone would instruct you to do, you did it with no hesitation. But you wanted—needed him to finally give you what you’ve been wanting for so long since the night you lost your virginity. 

When you first had sex—it was an okay experience. It was back in your junior year of high school when your boyfriend at the time asked you if you were willing to take that step in your relationship. He was one of the only boyfriends you genuinely had feelings for and he made you feel good—it wasn’t as painful or awkward as most of your friends explained it to be. But if you could go back in the past, you would have waited to give yourself to the beautiful man in front of you. As soon as his shirt came off, he quickly removed his pants and you leaned back in order to get a better look at him. Y

ou knew that Jaebeom was extremely fit; he went to the gym almost every single day and he only ever ate healthy food—telling you that he needed to “maintain his figure”. You’ve seen him shirtless on multiple occasions and there were a few drunken stupors that you’ve seen him practically naked before, but this was the first time you’d actually get to see him bare; on full display in such an intimate setting. He looked at you in confusion; the blank stare on your face didn’t make him feel all that good. Your best friend was always so confident in his looks, his personality and his physique—yet right now, watching you stare at him with an unreadable expression made him feel like he wasn’t attractive enough. Luckily, your next words confirmed that you were gazing at him in awe of his charming good looks and not in disgust. 

“You’re so hot Jaebeom—who knew you were hiding a six pack under all of those baggy hoodies?” You returned back to him and ran your index finger along his chiseled muscles. Both your breaths hitched as soon as your hand found his cock; you palmed him through his cotton briefs and hummed at how hard he was. 

“May I?” 

He gulped before nodding abruptly. Just like he did with your underwear; you forcefully ripped his off but he didn’t seem to care either. No daydream or any dream for that matter could ever had prepare you for this moment. You had a huge feeling Jaebeom was well endowed; you had a chance to see him in his underwear a few times, but seeing his long and thick girth made your mouth water. 

“Shit Jaebeom—you’re so big baby. I can’t wait to feel you inside of me. Can I—return the favor first—“ You don’t remember ever drooling over someone’s dick before, but just thinking about how good the stretch was going to feel in just a matter of moments was making you heated again. To your dismay, he shook his head and it discouraged you. Did he not like receiving head? What guy didn’t like being sucked off? Or was it because he didn’t think you could do a good job of pleasing him? He’s been with so many girls—you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to make him feel the ecstasy he just brought you through. Before you could continue overthinking, he brought his hand up to your chin and lifted it so that you were making direct eye contact with him. 

“I want nothing more than to shove my dick down your throat—especially because you were extremely naughty earlier; commanding me and telling me what to do. I should really teach you a lesson and trust me baby, I’ve wanted to see you suck on my cock since July 4th back in junior year and the cafeteria gave us those popsicles and you deepthroated it like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like you said, we have the rest of our lives to experiment—I have so many kinky positions to try and things that I want to do to you. But now—now I need to fuck you.” 

He shoved you down on the bed and found his place in between your legs. He lined himself up at your entrance and ran his cock in between your folds; lubricating himself with your left over juices from your previous orgasm. You closed your eyes to prepare yourself for the stretch—as much as you loved being filled to the hilt with a dick, it was extremely uncomfortable. However, whether it was that he sensed your hesitance or something else popped in to his mind; you didn’t feel him just yet and you opened your eyes to see what was wrong. 

“Jae—“

“I didn’t plan this well—fuck—damnit—I don’t have a fucking condom—shit—I haven’t had sex in years and I obviously didn’t think my dreams were finally going to come true tonight—fuck, y/n I’m so sorry—“ You playfully pinched his cheek and placed a reassuring kiss on his forehead. 

“I’m on the pill if that’s okay with you. I’m a  big fan of raw sex—and hey—we plan on spending the rest of our lives together anyway—so even if I were to get pregnant, then that would be pretty fucking awesome if you ask me. I want your babies one day—but if you’re not okay with that, I’m fine with swallowing your kids for the time being—“

“Oh God, please don’t ever say that again. That is not sexy at all. Are you sure about this y/n? I mean, the thought of fucking you without protection is indescribable—but I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because I’m irresponsible—“

“You would think I’d be used to my words going through one ear and out the other—you never listen to me other than when I offer to buy you food. It’s fine Jaebeom, I want this. Now—do us both a favor and blow my back out.” He gave you a hesitant smile and brought some hair off of your face before adoringly cupping your cheek in his palm. 

“Tell me if it hurts okay? And please let me know when I can move. I love you y/n—I love you so much.” 

He brought his lips to yours for what you assumed was to take your mind off of how uncomfortable the first stretch would feel. It wasn’t painful at all; you’ve had sex enough times to get used to the discomfort. His kisses and the way he was holding your waist protectively was enough to take your mind off of the ache and after a couple of thrusts, you were soon feeling pleasure. You gently gripped at his bicep as a nonverbal way to let him know that he could go faster and thankfully, he understood. 

“Fuck—you’re so fucking tight—your walls feel so good wrapped around me—I think I could cum right now and call it a night honestly—“ you rolled your eyes all the while biting your lip in pleasure. His cock felt so good against your clit; his pelvis kissed the tip of your cervix at a pace that you didn’t think was physically possible. The room was filled with skin on skin slapping against each other as his ass collided with yours. He raised your leg up and placed it behind his head so he could hit you deeper and you were sure that just like him, you weren’t all too far away from your second orgasm. 

“Mmm—JAEBEOM—FUCK—right there—holy shit—“ He brought his hand up to your neck and wrapped around your pressure point; choking you while forcing himself harder inside of your cunt. It was an indescribable experience; you were quickly growing lightheaded but in such a wonderful way. He continued his thrusts; pounding his cock vehemently in and out of your folds. 

“You’re so good to me baby—taking this cock so well—I’m so close y/n—you feel extraordinary—fuck wait—I want to take you from behind, would that be okay? I want to fuck you in to this bed—may I?” 

Out of all the positions, doggy style had to be your favorite. Specifically because you were an exhibitionist and a lot of the times you’ve had sex, you made sure it was in an area where you’d be able to see yourself getting fucked. You enjoyed watching your partner take you from behind; it was lewd and animalistic—it made your sex sessions all that more arousing. Even if the mirror wasn’t facing the two of you—you were extremely excited nonetheless. He pulled himself out of you; earning him an erotic whimper but you turned around and placed your face in to the pillows while lifting your ass up in to the air. He slapped both your cheeks before kneading them and playfully pinching them both. 

“I’m going to tell you this right now and I don’t care if you slap me—but I’ve stared at this beautiful ass many times and I’m not even sorry. I could write a novel about how much your ass alone drives me fucking insane—your whole body is a wonderland and I’m losing my fucking mind.” Thankfully, as soon as he admitted his obsession with your butt, he realigned himself at your folds and didn’t give you any warning before shoving his cock back inside. 

“FUCK—DON’T DO THAT—I’M GONNA COME Y/N STOP—“ His grip on your hips tightened once he felt you clench around him. At first, it was an accident. You were just reacting to how amazing it felt having his hardened length graze along your walls, but now that you knew how much it was affecting him, you wanted to mess around with him. 

“I thought you said no teasing tonight. Fine, two can play at that game babe.” 

No matter how hard and how fast he was pumping himself inside of you, his pace now was merciless. He began to bite and suck on the back of your neck and grunted each and every time his cock kissed your lips. His movements were harder—faster and you couldn’t even form an actual sentence to describe how euphoric you felt. This went on for ten more minutes and before either of you knew it, you felt his warm, creamy liquid fill you to the brim. Not too long after, he coaxed you in to reaching your release by whispering dirty words and sweet nothings in to your ear. 

After coming on his cock, you collapsed on the bed and he plopped his body on top of you. If you weren’t as exhausted as you were at the moment, you would have complained about how heavy his body was lying against yours, but you were so tired and you actually liked the proximity between the two of you. You and Jaebeom laid there for a couple of minutes; trying to catch your breaths and accept reality for what it was. You just made love to the man of your dreams—he was finally yours to love as you were his. Honestly, you didn’t need anything or anyone else. 

You didn’t care what job you were to get in the future; what car you’d end up driving one day or the house you’d end up living in—you would be content living a box as long as Jaebeom was there next to you. Once his breathing returned back to normal, he got off of you and took his place right next to you—turning you to face him. His hair was stuck on his forehead and with all the energy you had left—you let out a little chuckle. 

“This was the best night of my fucking life I can’t even—that was amazing—you were—wow y/n. I think I’m going to become a nymphomaniac and it is all your fault. Shit you felt so good I’ll never get over it. How was that for you though?” You pecked his lips and dragged your thumb along his bottom one. 

“That was wonderful—I’m sure it was ten times more amazing because I’m so in love with you. I’ve never been in love before—so I feel like it just heightens my hormones and made my experience so much more enjoyable. You were remarkable babe. I think I enjoyed that a little too much. I’m so glad we finally put our feelings out there. I don’t think I would have lasted much longer knowing how much I love you and not doing anything about it. I’m sure I would have blurted it out sooner or later. I love you Jaebeom. I’m so happy I can say that now. I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

He looked at you with so much love and adoration in his eyes and pulled you closer to his body before stealing a few fleeting kisses from your lips and running his fingers through your hair. 

“I love you too y/n and I’m going to spend the rest of my life reminding you both physically and verbally on a daily basis just how much. You’ll never have to question my love for you. Now—should I call the front desk and tell them we plan on staying for the rest of this week? I really want to fuck you in the shower and up against the window.” 

The next day—you and Jaebeom relished in your love for a couple of hours before you tapped out. The wedding wasn’t until 6:00 P.M. but you didn’t want to miss out just because you weren’t able to move around. For the rest of the day, the two of you watched a couple of movies and ordered room service. Your cuddling was on a whole other level now, he preferred that you’d sit on his lap rather than just sitting next to him and he always had to have his arms wrapped around you. Once it was time for you both to get ready, he recommended taking a shower together in order to “save time and the environment” but you knew exactly what would happen if you decided to take a shower with him and your mind was set on going to the wedding. 

He let out the most adorable whine but allowed you to take a shower first because he knew you would need more time to get ready. While he was in the shower, you slipped on your dress and began to apply a light amount of make up. Your hair didn’t take too long to dry and you actually finished getting ready around the same time he was. Watching his jaw drop as he walked in to the room at looked at you up and down sent chills down your spine. 

“Yeah—no, there is no way I am letting you go down looking like that—we’re staying here and that dress is going on the floor—“

“Im Jaebeom, I will go to that wedding with or without you. I did not spend half an hour getting dolled up just so we can stay here and have more sex. I’m still sore—keep it in your pants will you? If you’re a good boy then maybe when we come back—I’ll let you have your way with me again. But until then, promise me you’ll be on your best behavior.” He groaned before making his way towards you—wrapping his arms around your waist and releasing a long sigh in to your neck. 

“Fine. Just know I’m rock solid right now and I’ll probably be for the rest of the night until you relieve me. There are a few family restrooms we can make love in—get back here—you can’t attend the wedding without me baby—“ 

The wedding was extremely beautiful. Although you didn’t know either the bride or the groom personally, you found yourself shedding a couple of tears. You’ve always loved going to weddings; witnessing the love two people had for each other was so beautiful. There were so many times you’ve found yourself planning out your future wedding, but you’ve never been with anyone that you’d see yourself starting a family with. The idea of marrying Jaebeom was always in the back of your mind, but you never thought you’d be here right now with his hand inching closer and closer to your core. 

“That’s going to be you and me one day.” You turned around to face him and smiled softly at his sweet words. 

“I can’t wait.” Once the bride and groom said their vows and everyone made their way in to the grand ballroom, the rest of the night came and went with a snap of your finger. You were so caught up in staring at your boyfriend and just thinking about what he said earlier that you didn’t even bother to look around for Ella. She didn’t matter anymore. It may have sounded weird, but you were grateful that she made the awful mistake of cheating on Jaebeom. You hated that she hurt him and make him question himself and what he did wrong, but you were content that it brought the two of you together. 

Your love for Jaebeom only grew stronger as the days went by. If you thought he was the perfect best friend; he was an even more amazing boyfriend. He was quite the gentleman; always called you up to see how your day was going, bought you things that reminded him of you, wrote poems about your beauty and how lucky he was to have you—he even stayed on the phone with your mom for over an hour once to learn how to make your favorite dish. He also tried his best to head over to your place almost every single day and on the days he was too tired from work, he’d make sure to FaceTime with you just so he could get his fill of seeing you. Life with Jaebeom was perfect—honestly too good to be true. Both work and school was rough for you, but the time you’d get to spend with him made it all worth your while. 

Unfortunately, you were putting all your time and energy in to your education, your work and your relationship that you weren’t taking good enough care of yourself. One morning you woke up feeling nauseous and extremely light headed. You just assumed it was because you were either dehydrated or lacking in sleep. Since you didn’t think anything of it, you went about your day like nothing was wrong. You were sitting in class, texting back and forth with your boyfriend when all of a sudden you felt yourself going in and out of your head—you didn’t know how to explain exactly what you were feeling but you knew something wasn’t right. 

It wasn’t until your vision went blurry that you felt like you should make your way towards the nurse’s office; but you collapsed right as you made your way towards the door. The last thing you heard were worried voices telling someone to call an ambulance before everything faded to black. Waking up felt weird; you knew by the white walls and the beeping from what you assumed was a heart monitor that you were in the hospital. Your memory was a blur; you remembered everything leading up to that moment, but you don’t remember being put in the back of an ambulance or even making your way to the hospital. How long have you been asleep for? What exactly caused you to pass out? 

You had a feeling you’ve been sleeping for at least a couple of hours—but then again, what felt like such a short amount of time to you could have been a week for all you knew. The tight hold on your hand was quick to grab your attention and when you looked down to see who it was—even if you had a feeling it was the same person you were hoping it would be, you gently caressed his hand with your thumb. Jaebeom was leaning on your bed; his face was pressed up against your ankle as his hands were intertwined with yours. You didn’t want to wake him up; but your curiosity was getting the best of you. 

“Jaebeom—baby—hey—“ 

You brought your hand in to his hair and began running your fingers through it in attempts to wake him up without startling him. He took his time to wake up but as soon as he realized that it was you calling his name, he sat up abruptly and blinked a few times; as if he was trying to see whether or not he was still sleeping or if he was awake and you were actually real. As soon as he realized that he wasn’t still dreaming, he threw himself towards you and cupped your face in between his hands. 

“Finally, you’re up. How are you feeling baby? God y/n, I was so worried about you. I had a feeling something was wrong when you stopped responding to my text messages and then I got a call from your mom telling me that you fainted and I couldn’t think. I was so scared—do you need me to get you something? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you want to use the bathroom? Should I call the doctor—“ 

In your fifteen years of knowing him, you’ve never seen him so distraught before. There’s never been a situation that he ever had to be this frantic or nervous—but it made your heart flutter both seeing and hearing how affected he was that something happened to you. 

“I’m okay babe, I just want you to hold me.” He bit his lip before standing up and placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“Let me go call a doctor and let your parents know your awake. Then I’ll join you on the bed and cuddle the shit out of you.” You frowned as you saw him leave the room, but you understood that he wanted to make sure everything was okay with you. When the doctor came in, he was alone and you wondered where Jaebeom could have gone, but the grim look that he was wearing worried you. 

“Hi there y/n. It’s nice to see that you’re finally awake.”

“Do you mind me asking, how long have I been asleep for?”

“Three days. I’m actually surprised you’re not still in a coma. From what happened to you—I expected you to still be sleeping for at least one more week. How are you feeling?” You shrugged indifferently before sitting upright. 

“Groggy I guess? My body hurts just a little bit, but other than that, I’m fine. Did I pass out because I’m not eating right or getting enough hours of sleep? I’ll admit, I haven’t been taking care of my body as much as I should so is it because of that?” He released a disappointed sigh before shaking his head. 

“Y/n—I don’t know how to tell you this but, one of your kidneys are failing. That’s why your body went in to shock and you ended up collapsing.” 

You looked at him in shock. To be honest, you weren’t all that familiar with how bodies worked. All you knew was you needed to eat right, drink 8 cups of water a day, get at least seven hours of sleep and exercise three to five times a week. You didn’t know much about kidneys other than the fact that they filter out toxins from your body; you weren’t even aware of where it was located. But to hear that one of your kidneys were failing made you extremely nervous. 

“What does that mean exactly?” He walked closer to you and took a seat on the chair Jaebeom was sitting on. It made you grow even more curious as to where he could have been. Did he know? Is that why he seemed so upset? Did the doctor explain to him what happens to people who’s kidneys are failing? 

“Your kidney is one of the most important and vital organs in your body—when it fails, so does everything else. I don’t want to worry you—but most people don’t last long even when on dialysis.” The last thing anyone—especially someone who was only twenty-three years old wanted to hear was that you were going to die soon. You were still so young; there was so much going on for you as of right now. There were so many things you had planned for your future—why was your life on the line? It wasn’t fair. A few tears began to build at the brim of your eyelids—but it was only natural. 

“Is there anything I can do? A surgery I have to undergo or some medication I can take? I’ll do anything doctor. This can’t be it for me.” 

He nodded in understanding; you were sure it was probably hard for him to deliver this kind of news—but it probably wasn’t something he had yet to get used to. As many miracles there were in the hospital, there were just as many tragedies. 

“You could get a kidney transplant, but there’s a list. Kidneys are one of those organs that are harder to get next to a heart. I’ll put you on the list right now, but I’m sure there’s at least thirty people waiting for a donor. What we can do is test some of your loved ones to see if they have the same blood type as you and if they’re willing to give you one of their kidneys, then there’s no having to go on the list and your health will be good as new.” 

The thought of having to ask someone for their kidney made you want to cry. You knew your parents would offer their kidneys in a heartbreak—but there was no way you could do that to either of them. Even if people could live on just one kidney, what if down the road, that kidney ends up failing itself? As much as you did not want to die, you refused to put someone else’s life at jeopardy just to save yours. 

“I see. I’ll talk to my family about it. Thank you so much doctor.” 

He gave you a sad smile and told you that he’d get a nurse to bring in some food before leaving you all alone with your thoughts. You didn’t know what to do or what to think. What could you do other than cry, pray and hope for the best? He didn’t have to say it outright, but you knew he was indirectly explaining that your chances of living were very slim. 

You allowed yourself to break down; you didn’t want to cry in front of anyone—especially not Jaebeom. He was already worried as it was—you didn’t need to add on to his problems. When you heard footsteps approaching the door just a couple of minutes after the doctor left, you wiped away your tears and put on the fakest smile you could muster. 

“My baby! I’m so glad you’re finally up—you poor thing. When the hospital called me, I almost ended up passing out myself. What did the doctor say? I told you—you need to take care of yourself better y/n—“

“I’m dying mom. One of my kidneys are failing. He didn’t say why or how—I’m assuming it might be hereditary but there’s nothing I can do other than get a transplant—but he said the list is backed up. There are at least thirty people ahead of me.” 

Right as you finished relaying the news, you could have sworn your heart broke as soon as your mom let out the most gut wrenching sob. Sure, it was already so much for you to take in as the person who was just minutes away from death—but as a mother, hearing that your child is sick must feel like their entire world was falling apart. Besides Jaebeom, your mom was your best friend. She had to be your favorite person in the world; and you were hoping that one day, you’d be even half as an amazing mother to your kids as she is to you. 

She joined you on the bed and pulled you in to her embrace. The two of you just sat there crying for quite some time; you failed to notice Jaebeom walk in nor did you see him walk right out in order to give you and your mom some space. 

“You’re going to be fine y/n okay? I will make sure of it. I’m going to get tested and I’m sure your father would love to see if he’s a match and Jaebeom—“

“No—please—I can’t ask any of you to do such a thing like that for me.” She looked insulted; as if you said something to hurt her feelings but you knew she was just sad. 

“Y/n, I’m your mother—I’ll do anything for you baby girl. I’m not going to lose you—no—not if there’s anything I can do about it. Don’t give up okay? Don’t lose hope. Everything will be okay in the end.” Her fingers felt nice in your hair; her touch was featherlight and she began humming softly while placing a kiss on your cheek. 

“Mom. Can you do me a favor?” She nodded without hesitation. “Please don’t tell Jaebeom. The last thing he needs is to worry about me. He already has so much on his plate. His dying girlfriend should be the last of his worries—“

“Y/n, you can’t be serious right now. I wish I could have recorded just how worried he sounded when I told him you were at the hospital. I’ve never seen someone so in love with another person the way Jaebeom is in love with you. You can’t do that to him—it’s not fair to him. You’re his main priority y/n and think about it like this—what if he was the one who was sick and kept something so important like a failing kidney from you? How would you feel? Devastated right? I’m sure he’ll be broken-hearted if he were to find out when it’s too late. He’s been in your life for such a long time y/n—as your boyfriend, and your best friend, he deserves to hear the truth.” 

You knew she was right—if Jaebeom kept that a secret from you, you’d be so hurt and betrayed. But you felt like you were protecting him by keeping it a secret. 

“Fine I promise I will tell him on my own time. But you need to promise me that you won’t say a thing. Okay?” 

She hesitantly nodded; your mom wasn’t stupid. She knew you just as much and if not more than you knew yourself. No matter how much she would tell you what to do, that didn’t mean you would listen. You were stubborn and hardheaded as hell; you were also the type to suffer in silence by yourself. You didn’t like being a burden to people. 

When you were discharged from the hospital only two days later, Jaebeom forced you to stay with him at his apartment so that he could take care of you. He was afraid that you could collapse again; so he called you out from both your school and your workplace so you had a good amount of time to relax. He also made it a habit to feed you every three hours in order to make sure you were getting as much nutrients as your body needed to survive on. 

A week later, you returned back to your apartment with the excuse that you were feeling better and that you missed the comfort of your own space and hesitantly—he let you. But he got you to promise him that you would text him as much as possible; especially if he wasn’t able to check up on you. It was then that you decided to shut him and anyone out of your life completely. You were stupid to come up with that decision; what good would it do by ignoring everybody in your life. 

Especially the person—your person who meant the entire world to you. If you were dying, you didn’t want to make it harder on anyone; specifically Jaebeom and your parents to spend so much time with them only to pass away sooner than you expected. You cried for what felt like hours when you turned off your phone. You knew that wasn’t going to be enough though; Jaebeom was relentless. He arrived at your apartment just a few hours later—pounding on your door repeatedly while screaming for you to open it. 

Your heart was begging for you to open the door. How could you do this to him? You claim to be shutting him out in order to protect him, yet it was obvious you were breaking his heart. With each pound at your door, you could feel your heart tearing. Why did you fall in love? Why did you allow yourself to get so attached that now you didn’t want to leave even if you didn’t have the choice? You weren’t afraid of death—no. Everybody dies, it’s apart of life. You were afraid of no longer being with Jaebeom. 

No longer getting to see his handsome face or being the reason being his laughter. No longer getting to hold him and be held by him. No longer getting to kiss him and just basking in his existence. Not getting the chance to have a future together—that’s what was hurting you the most. He came by every single day; crying and begging for you to let him in. He told you he had no idea what he did wrong and he thought this was your way of breaking up with him, but he couldn’t understand why. 

Everything was going so well between the two of you just hours before you were administered in to the hospital. Did he say something to upset you? Did you just want to be by yourself right now? Why were you pushing him away when it was obvious that this was the time you needed him the most? You wanted him to hold you as you cried and to tell you everything was going to be okay—even if it wasn’t. 

All you did for the rest of that week other than crying is eat and sleep. You didn’t have the energy nor the motivation to do anything. A week later, you decided to turn on your phone just to make sure nothing bad happened. Seeing over hundreds of texts, calls and voicemails from your boyfriend made you feel like complete and utter shit. You never believed you deserved Jaebeom; even months in to your relationship, you felt as though he deserved someone so much better than you. 

You’ve never hated yourself as much as you did right now. A part of you wanted to read his messages or to listen to one of his voicemails because you missed him like crazy—but you were well aware that it would only make you feel worse. You did notice a number you didn’t recognize call you at least three times and when you listened to the voicemail, you felt as if the entire world stopped. 

“Hi, this message is for Y/n Y/l/n. This is Dr.Kim calling from Queen’s Medical Center. I am excited to inform you that we found a donor for you. Please get back to me as soon as possible. Thank you.” 

You couldn’t believe it—there had to be a catch. Just days ago, he told you that it wasn’t looking too good in your favor but now he said there was a donor for you? Was there thirty other people willing to give their kidneys to those needing a transplant before you? You didn’t want to get too excited; you couldn’t stop your conscience telling you that there was a chance your mom was a match and she offered her kidney. Your initial instinct was to call her first before calling the doctor back, but it’s already been three days. 

If you waited any longer, they could give the kidney to someone else and even if you weren’t too sure if you wanted to accept the transplant, you weren’t going to be rude if someone was already offering it. 

“Hi y/n! How are you? I hope you’re doing well! I’m so excited to say that we found someone with the same blood type as you to donate their kidney. Never in my twenty years of being a doctor have I seen such a case like this—I call it a miracle. I’d recommend you come down to the hospital as soon as you can so we can give you the transplant.” 

You felt overwhelmed—you were undoubtedly content that you were giving the chance to live but you were still curious as to how there was a donor in just a span of a week when some people have been on that list for years. 

“Would you happen to know who the person is whose kidney I’m being given?”

“I have no idea. Sorry. I look forward to seeing you soon y/n. Drive safely.” 

You drank a few cups of water and took a bite out of a sandwich that’s been in your fridge for almost a month now, but you had no appetite at all. As you made your way to the hospital, you found yourself hovering your finger over Jaebeom’s contact. You were given another chance at being able to spend the rest of your life with him—but you fucked it all up. He had to hate your guts for all that you made him suffer through and you couldn’t blame him. 

After you pulled up to the hospital and looked around for doctor Kim, the nurses had you wait in the lobby so they could prepare the surgery table for you. The process didn’t take too long and when doctor Kim came out to explain just how lucky you were to be the recipient of a kidney in such a short amount of time and had the nurses prep you for surgery, you just wanted to get it all over with. The surgery room was extremely bright and you were wearing nothing but a hospital gown. You were told that kidney transplant surgeries took about five to seven hours but because they were putting you on anesthesia, it would feel like five minutes. 

One of the nurses placed the mask on top of your mouth and had you count to ten—but you didn’t even make it to six before passing out completely. Just like the day you collapsed in your lecture hall, you don’t remember falling asleep. It felt good being awake again; but this time was worse than the last. Everything hurt and your mouth felt so dry. Nothing came out of your mouth as you tried to speak up and call for a doctor. 

However, you did feel a pair of hands gripping at your arm and this all felt like deja vu. You were afraid of it being Jaebeom—you didn’t think you deserved for him to come see you and you didn’t think you’d be able to look at him without crying at the thought of how much you’ve broken him. Once you realized it was your mom, you let out a sigh of relief yet you were disappointed it wasn’t your boyfriend. As soon as your mom felt you stirring, she looked up at you and you could’ve sworn her pained expression would be forever imprinted on the back of your mind. 

“Hi mom.” She furrowed her brows before bringing your hand up to her lips and placing a kiss on the back of it. Her expression was quick to change though and before you knew it, she smacked your arm all but gently. 

“You stubborn girl. What is wrong with you? How could you do that to us. You know how worried I was—we all were? What if you were to die huh? There wouldn’t be any way for us to come and get you. You’ve made some pretty stupid choices in your life y/n but this had to be the stupidest thing you could have ever done. And don’t even get me started with the hell you put Jaebeom through. As your mother, I was so mad at you but the poor boy—he thought he did something wrong. He wouldn’t stop blaming himself for something he had no control over—“ You didn’t want to interrupt your mom; especially because she was furious but you needed to know. 

“Where is he?” She stopped her scolding completely as she directed her attention towards anything other than you. 

Oh no. It couldn’t be. 

“Mom. I asked you a question—“

“I think I should go get the doctor and tell him you’re awake—“

“Mom! Answer me! Where is Jaebeom?”

The look of guilt on her face made it all the more adamant that she knew exactly where he was but she didn’t want you to know. She was silent for five minutes; contemplating on how she should go about telling you just how they were able to find you a donor in just a matter of days. 

“I told him.” You looked at her in shock; that was the one thing you did not want her to do. If Jaebeom were to find out about your situation, he wouldn’t hesitate to go and get tested to see if he was a match. 

“I kept it a secret for as long as I could. But when he came over to our house, asking me if I’ve heard from you and if something was wrong—I couldn’t keep lying to him y/n. It was hard for me to look at him, watch him cry and plead to even hear that you were okay; you’re so selfish. I know it was a lot to take in, but I told you we would handle it didn’t I? We’re in this together y/n. Right after I told him, he came here and took the test to see if his kidneys were healthy enough for him to live on just one. You’re both O positive and he didn’t even hesitate to give it to you. He’s still healing but the doctor said he can be discharged tomorrow.” 

All the color drained from your face and you felt like you were going to throw up. Why would he do something so stupid—so foolish; giving away a kidney isn’t something simple like buying someone a gift; or doing their homework for them. This was something he wasn’t able to take back. He was now putting his own health at risk and at what cost? Just so you could live longer? What if this only shortened his life? The doctor said people could survive with only one kidney, but what if his other one failed later on in life? What happens then? 

You wanted to be grateful that he would do such a thing; you obviously meant so much to him that he was willing to give you a part of himself in order to keep you alive. However, you were angry—not so much with him, but this entire situation.

“I can tell you’re overthinking things right now and I just want you to stop. I know that if he was the one dying, you would have done the same thing—so stop. Just be thankful that he did this. Don’t get mad at him; this was already such a big decision for him to make and he made it in a heartbeat. He did this because he loves you y/n. How do you think he would feel seeing you so upset over this as the person who gave you his kidney? Sometimes we do things for the people we love without even a second thought. All we care about is making them happy and keeping them safe. Exactly what Jaebeom did for you. Now, I’m going to go get a doctor, don’t do anything reckless while I’m gone.”

As soon as she left you all alone, you completely fell apart. You ignored him. You lied to him. You tried to leave him and keep him out of your life to protect him from your unfortunate fate yet he gave himself for you. He put his life on the line in order to save yours. Your mom had a point, if it was Jaebeom who needed a kidney, you wouldn’t hesitate to give him yours. With the entire Ella circumstance, although you were hesitant on helping him out for obvious reasons, you gave in because you wanted to help him in any way you possibly could—much like he just did now. 

No matter how many times Jaebeom told you and even showed you how much he loved you, this just set it all in stone. When your mom returned with the doctor and he explained how the healing process worked and what was going to happen now that you had a new kidney, all you wanted to do was find Jaebeom. You wanted to see him yourself and personally thank him for his sacrifice. Your mom told you to get some rest and that she would let you see Jaebeom later, but she knew she wasn’t going to win any argument with you—and you had every right to go and see him. It’s only been a week since you last saw the older boy but it felt like a year—a long, grueling, heartbreaking year. 

As the nurse pushed you in a wheelchair towards his room, there were negative thoughts that began to fill up your mind. Does he regret doing this? What if for some reason one day, we call it quits, is he going to regret it then? What if he wanted nothing to do with you? What if giving you his kidney was his goodbye gift to you? 

Your heart rate only increased as she brought you right outside the door and told you that she wanted to see if he was awake before letting you inside. You weren’t the biggest fan of hospitals; there was one time you tripped and fell in your freshman year and sprained your ankle and you had to stay over two weeks in order to get the surgery and the rest you needed to completely heal. 

The man you were only seconds away from seeing again stayed with you throughout your entire stay. He went to school every morning even if he didn’t want to; but came to be with you as soon as the last bell rang. Even at the prime age of fifteen, Jaebeom always put you first. What did you do to deserve someone who loves you as much as he does? 

“He’s awake now—I didn’t tell him you’re here to see him because I’m sure you want to surprise him. Are you ready?” 

You nodded slowly and took in a deep breath as she wheeled you in to his room. There were countless “get well” balloons and many beautiful bouquets of flowers spread throughout the small space. Jaebeom was a very popular person his entire life—you weren’t surprised to see just how many people were wishing him a speedy recovery. You wondered if anyone knew why he was currently in the hospital. 

As soon as your eyes landed on him, your breath hitched and you wanted to cry again. He currently had so many wires attached to him and there was a couple of bruises on his body; your doctor explained that it was natural for both your bodies to change—especially his since he no longer had both of his kidneys. You wanted nothing more that to hold him and to tell him just how grateful you were for everything; not just for his generosity—although there was no way you’d be able to top this at all, but just for everything he’s done for you since you first became friends. 

“Jaebeom sweetheart, look who came to see you. I’ll give the two of you some space while I go get something for you both to snack on. Just press the help button if you need assistance before I get back.” You kept your eyes on his bed; not wanting to see the way he was looking at you or you would surely break out in tears. 

“Hi.” You began to pick at your fingers out of nervousness. If only you could read minds; you wanted so badly to know what he was thinking. Jaebeom was never a man of words—he preferred actions. You had a feeling he wouldn’t confess even one thought that was going through his mind right now nor did you want to force anything out of him. 

“Hey.” Silence filled the room once you both acknowledged the other’s presence; you didn’t know what to say and with the way he didn’t speak up either—neither did he. 

“How are you feeling?” His question is what got you to finally look at him. He looked exhausted beyond belief and his face was exceedingly smaller and more pale. His eyes were puffy and both his hair and facial hair were growing faster than normal. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He shrugged and you felt terrible. The two of you were acting as if you were strangers. This was your best friend—the love of your life; your soulmate. Why were you treating him like you had no idea who he was. 

“Jaebeom I don’t know where to start. Well I do—thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t think I will ever be able to repay you. You saved my life—I’m forever indebted to you Im Jaebeom. I hope you know I would have done the same exact thing for you. I know this is a stupid question to ask, especially because I am well aware of what the answer is, I just want to hear you say it—how—why would you do this? Do you understand how big of a sacrifice you made? A kidney isn’t a small thing Jaebeom; people wait years for one—“

“You just answered your own question y/n. How many times do I have to tell you this for you to get it through that pretty yet extremely stubborn head of yours? I would do anything for you. Anything. I’d give my life up for you—you should know that by now. Fuck—I hated being away from you and I hated that you were trying to push me away. I of all people should have been the first person you ran through. I’m your boyfriend and your best friend y/n. You should feel like you’re able to come and tell me things like this. Especially a life or death situation. What did you think was going to happen if you stayed away huh? What good was that going to do? I honestly don’t know what I would do if I were to lose you. I know—giving away a kidney is a big deal but I didn’t care about anything in that moment. Your mom told me you didn’t want me worrying about you and that’s why you kept it between yourselves—but how could I not worry? It’s not just your future we’re talking about it’s mine too. What, did you think everything would be fine and dandy if you were to die? You’re crazy for even thinking that I wouldn’t want to do this for you. I did it for you and for us—so I can have you for so many more years to come. I love you y/n—so much that it actually scares me but not in a bad way if that makes sense.” 

You moved closer to him and tried your best to get up from your wheelchair in order to join him on the bed. You were sure that if you were to look in the mirror right now—you’d see just how his words practically wrecked you. He laughed softly to himself when he saw you struggle and took matters in to his own hands; he slowly got up and reached for your hand, pulling you towards him and you didn’t even give him a second to make himself comfortable before connecting your lips with his in a passionate kiss. He smiled widely against your mouth. Since he was still pretty lethargic and not quite himself just yet, he had to stop the kiss from escalating any further, no matter how badly he wanted to continue feeling your lips on his. 

“I’ve missed you. Don’t ever do that to me again. Just for that, I hope you know I’m forcing you to move in with me so that I can keep my eye on you. I don’t know why we didn’t move in together sooner, there’s nothing I want more than to go to sleep with you wrapped in my arms and to wake up to your beautiful face and stinky morning breath.” 

You gave him a small pout at his words before nodding in agreement. The idea of moving in with Jaebeom sent fire to your bones. You were more than happy to be able to share a space with him—you always wanted to be around him. The two of you only spent most of your time together at each other’s places, so it only made sense that you both moved in together. You placed a soft kiss on his bottom lip before bringing your hand up just above his eyebrow; tracing his two moles that you adored so much ever so gently. 

“I just didn’t want to end up hurting you if something were to happen to me. As soon as the doctor told me the news, my mind went blank and you were the first person I thought of. I cried at the thought of having to leave you and I thought it would be easier for you to get used to living without me—“

“Well you thought wrong—“ You gently slapped his shoulder before placing a few pecks on his lips.

“Hey, I let you talk without interrupting you. Now let me speak. I was devastated when I heard that my chances of living were slim. It was like there was no hope for me and I didn’t want to get your hopes up either. I’m sure nobody wants to die, especially at such a young age but I was more afraid of no longer having you around and what would happen to you if something did happen to me to even care about what goes on after we die. I can’t even form a plausible sentence to describe how thankful I am that you did this. Thank you for loving me Jaebeom. Thank you for just being you. I can’t even tell you how much your sacrifice means to me. I never once questioned your love for me; you never fail to remind me that you’re so madly in love with me and trust me when I say this, I love you with every fiber of my being—with every single breath that I take. You’re the reason for my existence Jae. To be able to love you and be the extremely lucky person who gets to be loved by you is something I will always be grateful for. You are an extraordinary human being. People like you only come one in a lifetime. I love being able to wake up every morning knowing that you are my person. I don’t say it as much as I should and I’m going to work on that. I want to be a better girlfriend because it’s what you deserve. But I will do anything in my power to show you that my heart is yours. That I am wholeheartedly and irrevocably in love with you.”

When you saw tears building up at the corner of his eyelids, you had to stifle back a laugh. It took a lot for Jaebeom to cry; he wasn’t a sensitive guy so it did melt your heart seeing him so worked up over the thought of no longer having you in his life. God, you were so in love with him. How did you stay away from him for even just a week? You had to be insane. This entire situation made it crystal clear for you—no matter what happened in your life, there was no way you could ever be without Im Jaebeom. 

“A life without you is a life I never want to live. If my kidney ends up failing later down the road—then I’ll dying knowing I gave my life to save yours. To keep you around. I’d give you my heart if you needed it—you’re the owner of it anyway. I wanted to do this for so many reasons baby and I would do it again and again if I had to. It’s you and me for life y/n—I’m yours forever. Oh, and I just want to let you know that I plan on using the fact that you now have one of my kidneys to my advantage just to get on your nerves. If I’m hungry and I want you to make me something—just remember, I gave you my kidney. And this goes for anything else. If there’s only one cookie left or I want to choose a movie for us to watch—my organ is what’s keeping you alive. Think of it this way, you’ll always have a part of me inside of you even if I’m not physically inside of you. I hope you know once we’re both released and completely healed that I expect you to show me just how grateful you are while on your knees—okay I obviously made the wrong decision, give me back my kidney.” 

You gave him the most adorable scowl to which he placed a long, sloppy kiss on your lips and pulled you closer to his body as humanly possible. You’ve missed being in his arms, it’s when you felt the safest and the most at ease. Im Jaebeom in more or less words was an actual angel sent to you to take care of you and you were going to spend the rest of your life showing him just how over the moon you were to call him yours. 

“All jokes aside baby, you mean everything to me y/n and I can’t wait to see what life has in store for us.”

[afterthelastreset]

Rules Of One’s Soul Ch15 A Little Offer P5

(Mak belongs to @wasted-church )

The entirety of the cliffside home was oddly silent other than the furious sounds of scrubbing coming from the other side of the sheap. The outside had gotten slightly darker indicating it mustve been early night at least. The residents were sure feeling it. Seam especially as he relaxed back down into the old armchair, normally he hated water but after getting blasted by ashes he was happy to scrub it off. Took a while for his fur to dry though. Luckily no stitches came loose this time. As for Jevil and Rouxls-

The small gremlin was balancing on his tail watching the working worm with a crestfallen face. Seam could only shake his head and couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor fella. True his uh ....'help' had backfired but considering he was pretty rusty from being locked up for over one hundred years of his life, one couldn't judge him too harshly....Buuuut Rouxls wasn't one to let go easily. It had been proven before.

"Can I help,help?" Jevil gave a hopeful smile to the cleaning worm, who paused for a split second before harshly dunking the sponge he was using into a nearby bucket filled with sudsy water and continued as if he hadn't heard a thing. Making the foolishly hopeful smile from his face vanish a bit, but ever persistent, his tail leaned him forward to be closer to the worm's side where he tried seeing his face. "You shouldn't have to work, work so hard. Im sorry, sorry. So allow me to he-"

A quick snap of a heated glare from the duke silenced the jester into submission, his smile now silently small and he froze at the hatred radiating off him. It got smaller when Rouxls leaned onto his knees. Usually hed tower over Jevil but his current sitting position made for perfect eye level.

"Oh. THOU art sorry." A dry chuckle came from that angry being. "Good. For I amst sorry as well....Im sorry for ever letting mine guard down aground thee!"

Jevil flinched. Hard. And Seam continued to watch calmly from the comfort of the chair, but Kaard didnt care as he already turned his frustrations back to scrubbing the black blotches.

"Im sorry I ever met thee. Im sorry I canst be there for mine boy- He can't even sleep properly without a story let alone runneth an entire kingdom by himself. Imst stucketh cleaning homes likest some maid just to get decent food and all for what? For a smiling foolish worme to come crashing into thine-"

....He froze.....Something gently kneeding his shoulder...

"DON'T TOUCHE ME YOU PLAUGE ON MINE LIFE!!"

The tail that been holding up shot back the shocked body of the imp as a worm reared his full anger towards him for trying to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Why dont'st you doeth what thou doeseth best and playest games elsewhere?!"

With that the duke snapped back around to the floor ignoring any other sad look Jevil gave him. The jester slunk back even further from the duke- An ear perked at a soft chuckle he turned and found it came from the plush cat away from him.

"Your next play has been interesting to say the least. Are you ready to accept defeat old friend?" His smile widened as the small man pouted and promptly huffed at the audacity of the question.

"Absolutely not,not. I just-" Yellow orbs glanced back shakily to the worm for a split moment before back to the smiling cat. "...Need a new move,move to play."

He chuckled again. "Then may I offer some advice-"

"I can heareth everything thou art saying." Another annoyed glance was thrown over his shoulder.

A paw was held up in defence. "Now, now. I meant no harm but maybe its best Jevil leaves you alone right now."

The smaller man Took one last look to the worm before slowly starting towards the smiling cat. Seam ever so calm reached out and gave the sulking gremlin a pitty pat on the shoulder.

"I dont suppose you would like some tea to help ease the sting of rejection?"

A dark chuckle and smile. "The taste is bittersweet. But I would rather get sweet victory, victory.~"

Deep chuckles came from the cat as his one good eye watched the jester jump onto the couch next to himself, but somehow his forced frustrated grin still seemed to be sad there. It sorta made his cotton shiver with a pang of sorrow, but in a game it was best not to let his guard down too much. Jevil sat down on the couch next to Mak, who was fast asleep in a box filled with different things from gems to random jewelry they probably stole. Took forever to get them to calm down after finding their 'room' ransacked and cleaned out by Rouxls. The purple migit made his frustrated ways known with tapping fingers and strained grin directly towards him in question.

"I just...have a few set backs. Set backs."

"Oh yes. I remember how fondly old couples would chase each other with screams and try to bodily harm one another." He chuckled at the narrowed eyes Jevil have him. "Or maybe not. It's been at least a few hundred years. Hahaha."

"Funny,funny....What have you done, done to get expertise in other's romantical preference?," his voice asked in a low tone. A Jevil way of challenging his knowledge.

To which he shrugged. "I don't. But Id like to think I have enough know how to at least hold a decent conversation and get to know them more."

He could practically hear the gears working in the other's mind as Jevil slowly came to the realization that maybe, just maybe he had something up his sleeve. So when a more questioning look came over him, Seam couldn't help but chuckle.

"Really,really?...Would the Magnificent Seam be willing, willing to....discuss his tutorials? Tutorials.

"Haha. But then wouldn't that be cheating the game old friend?"

One of Jevil's eyelids twitched. Indicating held back annoyance at least. "Hmhm....Perhaps rules could be ...temporary bent,bent?"

It was more of a suggestion than question, but one that made Seam hum with interest anyways. His eye went back to the worm who was stretching his back out with a groan and popping noise from said worm's back. He looked about ready to get done and be one his way. Could it really hurt to exchange a few short insights of his? Jevil waited with hopeful patience as Seam rubbed his chin in thought before looking back to him with a smile.

"I suppose...haha. Two opponents of opposite sides could come to an agreement every so while still searching for victory."

A couple of giggles came his way as Jevil lit back up. "Do tell. Do tell."

"Well....I could but I think you already know he doesn't appreciate forceful attempts to get him to like someone...But how you're doing things I could be wrong."

"...And I could say, say the same about having to be forced to clean a mess,mess that's not his. ..His."

"Not if the person offered to help him in return and was happily offered to go as a ...guest for the holidays."

There it was. The straw that broke the hathys back. The jester became as still as a statue as soon as those few words tumbled out of the plush's mouth, it was honestly rather funny to see such a rare shock upon the normally cheerful face, unfortunately it didn't last long because rapid blinks followed shortly after and a forced pleasent chuckle escaped his throat.

"My dear friend, friend," Jevil said in a forced sweet voice. "It seems that my ears are not what they used to be, be. I thought for a moment you said-"

"That I will be accompanying the Duke to the this silly ball?" Jevils face dropping again made him chuckle and lean into the chair's cushions more. "I suppose it's not that big of a deal...But then again." Even if it seemed unreal, a smug look came over the cat. "You might not like my play on words, Old friend. Hahaha."

In that stuper the imp could only get out one word. "How...?"

"I offered to help take care of you. It seems you've outdone yourself with the romanticizing eh?"

He went from shocked to an angry little man complete with puffed cheeks and red eyes. If you didn't know Jevil personally it would be quite scary but to the laughing cat it was just like a small tired child. It was cuter when he suddenly stood up and stomped a foot onto the couch. Jarring the sleeping child awake and jingling the box they were sleeping in. Seam didnt even flinch when a claw was pointed at him .

"No far, no far! You cheated, cheated!"

"By nicely asking if I could go? Really Jevil. You're acting like a child who didn't get the cookie jar."

A growl. "You can't keep me away, away! "

"Who said I would? I only said I would try to help keep your wild self in check and I intend to do so. ...By giving you advice. " when Jevil didnt say anything he continued. "Try a less forceful approuch next time round. "

".....Next time?" It seemed he found his voice. Jevil could always rebound pretty fast. "My next turn will leave your head spinning, spinning!"

"Oh Im sure it will." Still with the smug grin.

"You'll see, you'll see!!"

With that he sprung himself off of the couch and with furious jingles made his way back to the back room. Oh this was surely was going to be worth watching. A slighy jingling of trinkets ditected his attention back towards the box where the child was looking at him.

"Breakfast time now?"

......................................................................................

Scrubbing sounds was the most of what he heard as he kept up the cleaning momentum. He wanted to get done, collect his earnings, and get out of that chaotic hell of a home. The set back had made him take a whole couple more hours to fix, it was already probably in the middle of the night by how slightly darker it was outside. But luckily he was nearly finished. Just a part of the ceiling left-

The mop was promptly dunked back into the bucket and pulled out a moment later before being thrusted back up against the ceiling and rubbed against the black ashes remaining stuck to it. The anger was still burning in his mind but he couldn't careless. ....Unfortunately it blinded him to what would've been the soft jingling of bells coming up to him until he felt a tug on his sleeves. The scrubbing stopped and looked down to the small mass that was Jevil. Giving him a small smile-

"What doth thou want?"

The harsh tone made him flinch slightly but that didn't deter his new set of confidence. "Ive come to apologize, apologize for everything that's happened."

An anoyed but slightly confused expression came over him as Rouxls rose a brow. His attention turning back to scrubbing. "Oh lucky me... And what doth I owest thy pleasure?"

He didnt see the inhale of breath Jevil took. "I want you to forgive, forgive me. Let us start over, over. Please. Let me make up, make up!"

That made the worm pause his movenents and look back down to the hopeful face of the imp who smiled wider at him. Rouxls blinked....And blinked again. .. Before another annoyed look came over him.

"Really? I amst supposed to forget everythinge that has happened?" Jevils ears drooped slightly as Rouxls huffed. "Likest I wouldst do that- EEK!"

The mop fell to the floor with a thump and water spilt onto the floor. Rouxls scrambled back from the sudden flashing of pink in front of his face, in his hast knocking over the mop bucket and almost falling over onto his rear. Jevil admittedly was pretty startled from sudden reaction as well and just stood there. A couple shiny pink heart attacks floating above him at Rouxls's eye level.

He blinked upwards at the heavy form of the Duke in front of him-

"ART THOU TRYING TO GIVETH MINESELF A SOUL ATTACK?!" He pointed at the hearts. "I will nay f-forgiveth thou for doing that! Now...g-getest rid of them!"

Jevil did. Immediately. "Im sorry, sorry-"

"Stoppeth it! Just stoppeth apologizing." The worm pushed himself up from the wall as gave Jevil another annoyed look. "If thou was really 'sorry' thoust wouldst try harder and use that head of yours."

Jevil said nothing as Rouxls turned around to look at the new mess with a disgusted look, but he did hum and make a thoughtful expression a moment later. He might have mumbled something like 'Try harder, harder?' but Rouxls wasn't paying much attention so he barely heard. But he did see him back out of the room from the corner of his eye. Good. Now he could get done

He looked back down at the spilt water, wondering how he would get that cleaned up-...Wait. A pair of rapid footsteps came towards him, along with a small...battle cry. He barely had time to turn around before a purple blur slammed hard into his chest. They went to the ground like a sack of gems wind knocked out.

"WHONST THY F*CKETH-"

"FORGIVE ME!" A pair of yellow eyes stared intensely from his chest.

"WHA-" The smaller body of the darkner squeezed around his form face pouting against his chest. Rouxls struggled but managed to sit back up with the imp digging into him. "Absolutely not!"

His hands grabbed onto him and pulled. Hard. But Jevils limbs dug harder around him resulting in a panic running up the worm's spine and pulling harder on him. The digits digging into his goopy body was starting to hurt.

"Im not letting go, go until you let me,me make it up to you! You!"

"Thou art bluffing!" By now he was disparately wanting to get this thing off of him! He couldn't stand the way his soul was thumping against his ribcage- "T-Thou cant do this!"

"I CAN DO ANYTHING!"

Of course. What answer would he expect? He sat there and stared dumbfounded at him but considering that he was still clinging to him tighter than Lancer, and that pouting face was.....kinda cute.....UGH!!

"Fine!Fine! Thou can getteth off me now!"

He narrowed his eyes. "You give me your word,word?"

"Y-Yes. Now please-"

After a few more moments of looking at him suspiciously but slowly let Rouxls go. The worm man shakily stood up onto his feet while remaining eye contact with Jevil who seemed alot more satisfied and happy he finally got his way.

"Splendid, splendid! Hehehehehe! Im so excited,excited to hear that! I promise, promise to make you happy, happy!"

"I doubt that..."

But Jevil didn't seem to hear Rouxls mumbling to himself as he proudly skittered to the exit to the shop front. There he stood proudly and pointed a claw at the ever so calm Seam.

"One step closer,closer to checkmate!"

[cinnaminsvga]

fox rain | three

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. namjoon) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid namjoon is (oh and like... ant gambling rings??) → words: 15.7K → a/n: this is late by a month and my whole life is a joke. i hope this makes you laugh bc i made namjoon extra dumb for y’all (for no extra charge. suck it, chipotle.) also: check bio for other chapter links for now!

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“This can’t be my fucking life. Can it?” you say to your own reflection, curtains of despair dripping from every inch of your visage. Your reflection stares back, the same dead eyes twitching imperceptibly from the lack of caffeine in your system. At this point, you wouldn’t be sane enough to be surprised if your parallel self would reply, perhaps with some scathing remark about how you were slowly losing your grip on your life. Not that it would be unwarranted, anyway.

After Hoseok’s explosion the other day, your weekend doesn’t exactly feel as exciting as it usually is. Of course, your mood is still a vast improvement from last week when you were out of commission for most it after your mental breakdown. Although, it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re still knee deep in shit and that you have no idea how you’re going to face Hoseok and Jimin the following Monday.

Damn. You could really use some coffee.

The day seems to be in much better spirits than you, and it would be a waste not to let the universe’s good mood try to make you feel better as well. There is a coffee shop just a block away, and maybe you could take a walk in the sunshine afterwards to help relax the dread consistently knocking at the back of your mind. It’s a little bit optimistic, but it’ll have to do.

Shrugging on a thin cardigan over some other semi-decent clothes, you step out of your stuffy apartment with a spring in your step. You didn’t bother with any of your usual morning ritual, seeing as how you don’t plan on meeting with anyone you know from university anyway. So what if your landlady Mrs. Park sees the bird’s nest on top of your head? Who is she going to tell? Her gang of old auntie friends all hate you already for wearing a “TRANS RIGHTS” shirt in front of them, so it’s not like you’re vying for their acceptance.

Other than your less than friendly neighborhood aunties, there are better old people to hang around anyway. Nearby the coffee shop, there is a senior home where you used to volunteer during your spare time until your other commitments forced you to give up your spot to some other benevolent soul. Since you have been meaning to visit the grandmas and grandpas there when you got some free time, you suppose it would be nice to talk to kind ol’ Ms. Kim today and listen to her recount her many youthful adventures (which is, more often than not, a euphemism for her various sexcapades in the 70s.)

The senior home is closer to your home than the coffee shop, so you choose to stop and gaze at the plain-looking white building with its neatly trimmed bushes and white picket fence. It looks out of place in the neighborhood, with its very suburban and Americana design, but you know it is only because the owner of the establishment had gotten her inspiration from Forrest Gump. She has a crush on young Tom Hanks, and you honestly can’t blame her for it; that man… he is a Man, with a capital M.

You’re in the middle of debating whether you should buy your coffee first before visiting the seniors when you hear a distant shout coming from within the house. Alarmed, you take a step back, almost falling on your ass and onto the sidewalk. You pause, tilting your head to try and peak over the fence and through the large windows that showed the reception area within. You recognize Hana, the receptionist, sitting by her desk in her usual green scrubs, her head bowed over a book as if the sound had not fazed her in the slightest.

“Am I crazy? Am I starting to hear things?” You wonder aloud, still staring at the innocent-looking home. Has the universe had enough with your lacklustre existence that it has caused you to hear nonsense? Is this only the beginning of your slow descent into madness?

You don’t have to fret over your sanity for too long because moments later, the shout repeats itself. Like the previous one, this one sounds just as pained and anguished, though you aren’t sure if it was a male or female who had screamed. For all you knew, the person might have either stubbed their toe or gotten a knife stabbed through their chest; it’s not like you spend time distinguishing the subtle nuances of tormented screams. However, you are more certain now that it had come from within the home, even though Hana has yet to react to the chilling noise. She flips to the next page, tired eyes squinting at the small text.

You are stuck at an impasse: do you go inside the home despite the possible danger of entering a secret cannabilist society of which your acquaintance has been initiated to, or do you turn around and go home where it is 100% more likely for you to survive the next 24 hours?

The choice becomes apparent to you, however, when a tall, lanky boy bursts out of one of the doors behind the receptionist, with his arms piled to the ceiling with dinner plates on the cusp of making their way to the floor. Even through the window and behind a fence, you can tell that he is in dire need of help, which Hana does not seem likely to extend. The mess of legs makes a beautiful display of himself, his lower limbs flapping about aimlessly as his body contorts to try and keep himself and the plates balanced.

Finally, after what feels like hours of torture watching the poor volunteer make a fool of himself, he manages to steady himself, his legs crossed together like he’s trying to hold in his piss. Carefully, he squats down, placing the plates on the floor in front of the receptionist desk. For a moment, you feel as though you should be applauding, for whatever reason.

Now without dishes obscuring his face, you can make out the identity of the flailing giraffe man. He turns, fingers combing through his distinctly colored hair––

Oh god. It’s him. You gotta get out of there, fast, before he recognizes you. Maybe if you run quickly enough, then maybe he won’t notice you when he looks out the window around.

“Ha,” the universe laughs, clapping their asscheeks to the rhythm of Ludacris’ Move Bitch Get Out Da Way™️ with a smirk. “Cute of you to think your life isn’t basically a 20-year long trainwreck in motion.”

Inevitably he turns around, his eyes immediately locking on your face despite being half-concealed by the fence. He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish until he lights up, recognition flooding his features. Even though you cannot hear him clearly, you just know that he said something stupid, judging by the way Hana has finally looked up from her book to stare at him weirdly.

Please don’t come out and greet me. Please just let me wave at you awkwardly and for you to stay where you are. Please don’t go out and talk to me––

Your prayers go unanswered once more as he sidesteps the wall of plates, his hip just barely grazing it and almost causing it to tumble down. The pile sways precariously from left to right, miraculously staying put as he rushes out to greet you. You can only imagine the mess he’d have to clean up if it did, shards of cheap porcelain left behind in his awkward, fumbling wake.

Luckily (or unluckily for you), he makes it out of the senior home in one piece. He crosses the short path to the fence in two inhumanly long strides, slamming the fence door open with a wide swing. It smacks loudly against the railing, the hinges making a pained groan as it looks to be at the inch of its life––literally. You vaguely remember replacing the screws on it just before you left over six months ago… Surely you hadn’t done such a shoddy job? Although, you know that simply can’t be true. After all, you’re dealing with none other than destruction incarnate himself, Kim––

“Y/N!” Namjoon greets happily, his dimples deeper than you remember. You swallow heavily, trying your best not to sweat under his overly enthusiastic gaze. God, you should’ve gone straight to the coffee shop when you had the chance.

Nothing like facing disaster head-on, as they say. “Hey,” you reply half-heartedly, though the walking inflatable tube man doesn’t seem to mind your lacklustre mood. He grasps your hands for a shake, swinging your entire body up and down with the care of a man who does not know his own strength. You, his unfortunate victim, are left to suffer through his artery-bursting grip.

“Oh god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Not that I’m not normally happy to see you at university, but––” He speaks so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the specific contents of his sentences, so you can only hope that your unenthused nods will be enough to placate the bumbling buffoon. You resign yourself to a fate similar to the bobbleheads on the dashboards of those white suburban soccer moms.

“Wait, hold on.” What on earth..? You are full on gaping at the piece of work on top of his head, not even pretending to be polite as you try to process what is in front of you. “What the hell happened to your hair?”

You know from old Facebook photos that Namjoon has natural black locks, though you can’t say that his wacky hairstyles were also inborn. Ever since you have known him, he has always dyed his hair a sandy brown color, complimenting his tan skin. Now, however…

“You mean the weird blue streaks?” Namjoon says, rubbing a few strands thoughtfully. His hair is a walking disaster, and this is coming from someone who has seen what Kim Seokjin has done to his clients. (There’s a reason his Yelp reviews are terrible… He deserves negative stars, if you’re being honest.)

“Did you lose a dare or something?”

“Uh… Kind of?” He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I had meant to change my hair color to something more exciting, so I asked the kids at the daycare and they suggested blue. Problem is, the seniors said they preferred my brown hair but I already promised the kids so… Here we fucking are,” he says in one breath, appearing as though what he said was obvious.

“So your solution was to compromise… by coloring half your hair blue, like some botched version of Death the Kid?”

“Exactly!” He beams, glad that you understand him perfectly.

Oh my god… He’s… No words are coming to you right now, but you get the picture.

The thing about Kim Namjoon is… he’s not… bad. Or dumb, for that matter.

Okay, not the best compliment out there, but it’s true. You’ve known for as long as you’ve been a university student, and your first meeting is certainly one for the books. You wouldn’t exactly consider him a “friend,” and an acquaintance is a bit of a stretch on most days, but he’s a nice guy. He’s eccentric in the most positive way, and not at all in the same chaotic and evil way that Seokjin is (for which you are thankful for.) It has always been a bit tricky to get close with him, as his head is always so far up in his work that it almost feels like he’s being reclusive on purpose.

If you ignore the fact that he has that odd propensity to volunteer himself in any job on the face of the earth (with him being unqualified 9 times out of 10), it is easy to see why people think so highly of him.

He is a scholarship student with a 4.0 GPA, is the youngest candidate to ever receive the university president’s yearly public commendation, and has already released two reputable mixtapes with high praise from critics nationwide. He’s nothing if not a prodigy, and he’s amassed a hefty following for his accomplishments. As a music major yourself, it’s hard not to be a little starstruck with him if you’re being honest.

Most of all, you remember the first song that you had ever heard from him: Moonchild. You still can’t quite believe he let you hear one of his many masterpieces when the two of you had just been total strangers. The lyrics had been so heartfelt, so intimate, that you felt as if you were intruding on his personal space or something. But he had let you listen, let you take a peek at what goes on inside that nebulous brain of his. When he does things like that, it makes it easy to understand why people might think your love poem might be about him. He’s just so… easy to admire.

The poem isn’t about him, but. It could have been, in some other life. (Or maybe it is.)

(Was.)

(Will?)

Regardless, you still have to convince him otherwise. You just simply aren’t ready for that type of development, much less with him. Despite all his good sides.

Thus, Kim Namjoon leaves you at a standstill. Why do you feel so fucking weird about harboring this idol crush on him? How can he be so dumb and so smart at the same time? He has blue fucking hair for crying out loud! He’s causing you cognitive dissonance just by existing, and it’s giving your meagre amount of brain cells a workout.

Oh shit, have you been ignoring him? You were totally zoning out this entire time, haven’t you?

Somewhere around the time you were having your mini mental breakdown, Namjoon’s mouth had stopped moving, giving you an expectant look. Oh shit. He probably asked you something. Embarrassed and unwilling to give away that you had not processed even a single word out of his mouth, you nod and give him an approximation of what you assume is a friendly smile.

For a second, you think that you might have gotten away with it when Namjoon’s face breaks out into an enormous grin. He grabs you by the shoulder and envelops you in an chokehold-like embrace. You let out a wheeze, clawing at his biceps with your remaining strength to try and prevent your untimely death due to asphyxiation. “Namjoon..?”

He lets out a shriek at a higher octave than you thought a man of his size was capable of. Somewhere out there, a dog probably perks up at the supersonic sound. “Y/N, I knew I could count on you! Thank you so much for agreeing to help me with the elders for Zombie Tea Time!”

Now that caught your attention. You pause in your squirming to fix him with a confused expression. “I’m… I’m sorry? What did you say?”

His smile never falters. He presses his cheek against yours, rubbing it happily with a hum. In any other scenario, you might have fainted from how adorable he was being, but seeing as how all your blood is still trapped in your upper extremities from his vice hug, it is difficult enough trying to remember how to stay alive.

“Every Saturday, the senior home hosts this event called Zombie Tea Time where the old people all get to have their faces painted with fake blood and all the volunteers have to pretend to be innocent civilians trying to get away from them!”

The more Namjoon speaks, the more you feel your sanity dripping out of your ass like diarrhea. “Ex. Excuse me? Say that again?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing the volunteers are trying out this month,” Namjoon says, finally (finally) releasing you from his hug. You don’t know if your flushed cheeks are from embarrassment or a stroke. “Like I said, we’re a bit shorthanded today, so I’ve had to wash the plates from breakfast AND pretend to get eaten by senile zombies. It’s… a lot.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You grimace, patting him on the shoulder empathetically. You freeze. “Wait. So that’s why you were screaming a while ago?”

“Huh?” Namjoon pauses, before his face does something funny where it looks like he’s either going to sneeze or take a shit. Thankfully he does neither, but instead reaches his hand around his back like he has an itch he needs to scratch. He makes a pained yelp, plucking something out from his asscheeks and pulling out what appears to be––

You stare at the object in his palm. “Are those… dentures?”

“Hmm…” Namjoon stares at it, too tired to be disgusted. He just nods his head sagely. “Must’ve been when I was too slow to dodge Mister Lee’s lunge. I was beginning to wonder why my ass felt like it was being eaten out.”

“Please, never say that sentence to me ever again.”

“Yea,” he agrees, sighing faintly. He pockets the teeth much to your horror, patting it gently like he hadn’t just placed a pair of dentures in his fucking scrubs. He dusts off his hands, his lips pursed so that his dimples stand prominently on display. You barely contain yourself from sinking your finger right into their hypnotizing abysses.

He looks at you hopefully. “So… Uh. You said you’ll help me?”

Oh right. You fucking said you’d help him fend off a hoard of virulent old people in face paint.

You look to the right, where the coffee shop is just within sight. Sweet, sweet caffeine, tantalizing you with its saccharine presence, dangling its wretchedly addictive power over your head. If you breathe deeply enough, you think you can smell the coffee beans from here.

You turn back to Namjoon, and you can physically feel the weight of his hopeful gaze on your shoulders. Your defenses have never crumbled so quickly in your life. Fuck him and his stupidly handsome ass.

You sigh, resigning your fate to eternally being whipped for a pair of pretty long legs and size B man titties. “Let’s fucking do this, I guess.” Easier said than done, but you already have one foot in elephant shit, so might as well submerge your whole body as well.

You follow Namjoon closely, having to take two extra steps for every one step that he takes. He crosses the reception area quickly, sending energetic finger guns at Hana which unsurprisingly goes unrequited. You take the more inconspicuous route and wave shyly at her, intimidated by her even after you have long since stopped working here. She levels you with one of her infamous hundred yard stares, lips turned downwards as she appraises you.

“You’ve decided to come back?” she asks, leaning back on her chair with a huff.

Namjoon is in the midst of trying to once again carry all the plates in his Play-Doh arms, so you’re a bit distracted when you shake your head in response. “Uh. N-no, Namjoon just asked me to help with the dishes, that’s all.”

“That’s a shame,” Hana says, no trace of disappointment in her voice whatsoever. She returns to her book, buzzing open the double doors to let the two of you pass. She flicks her hand lazily at the commotion happening behind her. “Better hurry back in there. The seniors are getting antsy.”

The doors open automatically, and you almost topple over when you are immediately bombarded with the terrifying symphony of old people hollering obscenities at frantic volunteers trying desperately to get away from their gnarled clutches. The hoard hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, and you fear to wonder what type of horrors that you will have to face once you step through those doors. You absolutely refuse to die on this hill, not when you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.

“I don’t think we’ll die,” Namjoon says, as if he can read your mind. You look at him skeptically.

“You think?”

He clears his throat. “I can’t promise we’ll come out of this unscathed, though.”

He takes a tentative step forward, the pile of dishes wobbling dangerously on their perch. You are quick to steady the leaning tower of Disa(ster), managing to transfer half of it into your own arms. You grunt, adjusting your stance so that you do not accidentally lose your grip. “Dude. How the hell did you get all those plates out here in the first place?”

Namjoon stands up straighter, the weight significantly easier for him to manage now. He smiles cherubically back at you, eyes crinkling cutely. “Oh, I was literally on survival mode and trying to stop lil Mrs. Sun from gnawing my leg off. The elders can smell fear you see, so they were definitely going to climb on top of me like World War Z and probably kill me.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Although, I think I dropped a plate or two while I was escaping, so watch your step!”

He says all of that with the same eagerness as man who is about to do something crazy, like jump out of a plane or walk a tightrope over a 100 ft canyon. Though, you have to admit that this entire scenario feels like it is on the same calibre.

“Is it me, or are the old people here 10 times crazier than I remember when I volunteered here?”

“You used to work here?” Namjoon says, amazed. “Oh, I didn’t know that! I only started a week ago when some other person resigned due to mental health issues or something.”

“You sure that this place isn’t the cause of their mental decline?” You say it like a joke, though you mean it seriously. Maybe the universe had been looking out for you when decided to get out of this place.

“Hmm… Maybe. Although, we only received this shipment of old people fairly recently.”

Pause. Rewind. “S-shipment?” you repeat, staring at him wildly.

Like the lovable airhead that he is, Namjoon fails to notice your astonishment and instead takes the first brave step forward through the double doors. He tilts his head towards the hallway, gesturing for you to follow him. The plates rattle dangerously from his movements. “C’mon, we gotta get these plates cleaned before the lunch crew comes to take over their shifts!”

Walking to the kitchen is easier than you thought, especially after you take into account the fact that all the old people completely ignored you and chose to only attack Namjoon, for whatever reason. You like to think that it is because the seniors still remember you back when you were still volunteering here and that they hold some semblance of endearment for you, but Namjoon begs to differ. In fact, he screams out his hypothesis as to why you have been left unharmed, all while two older women climb his back like demented crabs.

“Y/N! I think they can’t attack you because you’re in civilian clothes! They only attack scrubs!” Namjoon says, swatting away one of the women off his back with a surprisingly coordinated headbutt. She shrieks as she falls, landing on all four legs like a cat would do. She hisses lowly at you, before scuttling off to somewhere unseen.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” you wince, watching Namjoon unsuccessfully trying to spin quick enough to dislodge the remaining senior.

Namjoon perks up when he catches a glimpse of his attacker’s face, giggling and appearing as if he isn’t currently being assailed by a senior citizen. “Oh, Ms. Kim! I didn’t see you there. I love the zombie make-up you got going. Who helped you?” He looks at you, as if imploring you to compliment her as well.

“Uh. Yes. You’re looking very… yellow.”

Ms. Kim snarls, baring her teeth. “It’s the jaundice,” she says.

Not wanting to stand in that hallway any longer, you carefully place the plates back on the floor before you gently unclamp the old lady’s talons from Namjoon’s poor biceps. You wince, feeling the length of her nails and knowing that Namjoon is going to have some nasty scars.

You tell him so, but he only shakes his head. “Nah? I think they’d be pretty neat! Battle scars are cool right?”

You grimace at him. “If that’s… what you think, then sure.”

After grabbing your plates and hurrying after him before the elders make note of Namjoon’s survival, the two of you share a sigh of relief as you both slowly start piling them into the dishwasher. The task is menial and repetitive, and despite what Namjoon’s earlier chattiness might have suggested, he is quiet while he works. The silence is not as awkward as you feared, and honestly the peace is a welcome respite after all the chaos that you had to endure in such a short period of time. Although, silence has never been a good friend to your overworked mind, as it allowed you to stew inside your own head for much too long––and you have found in your 20 years of existence that it is probably for the best that you are not left without external stimulation for too long.

But here you are, forced to do exactly that. You would have engaged in some conversation with Namjoon to stop yourself from getting in over your head, but you are afraid of what sort of embarrassing topics might spew out of your mouth if you do. Heaven forbid that you start geeking out on him about your unhealthy obsession of collecting miniature glass horse figurines––that is a secret best kept between yourself and the tentacle monster under your bed.

You begin reflecting on the events from the past two weeks, replaying them second by agonizing second and ruminating on the state that your pitiful young adult life has become. The more you allow these memories to simmer, the more you slowly realize the weight of the accumulated stress that has long since made you hunch over like a goblin.

Hoseok and Jimin’s argument comes to the forefront of your mind, the unexpected heat coming from both of them confusing you to no end. You still don’t know the source of their ire towards one another, but what baffles you the most is how you could have missed it in the first place. Sure, you had thought they were at least more than acquaintances; one does not simply challenge a near stranger to a dance off in the middle of a library three times a week, for more than two months and counting. Friends might have been a stretch, though you can’t say you’re familiar with how their schedules look like outside your tutoring sessions together.

The question is though… should you interfere? Normally, you would have stayed far away from anyone else’s drama––you just aren’t the type of person to stick their noses in other people’s business. Yet somehow, you feel as if your poem was the catalyst to this violent chain reaction, that you have inadvertently caused the foundation of a precarious building to explode and bring the whole thing crashing down. To think that your silly love poem for a boy who hardly knows that you exist has become the center of so many people’s lives… the entire thing is giving you a headache.

Speaking of headaches… you should probably confront Namjoon about the poem as well. It is probably best that you plan your approach better this time, seeing as how your two previous attempts have been anything but stellar. Namjoon can’t be that difficult to convince, right? And even if he does see right through you, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who would laugh cruelly at you in the event that he figures out that you are the author. Not like Seokjin, at least. Luckily no one is like Seokjin, the fucking rat bastard that he is.

(In the distance, Seokjin has the sudden animalistic urge to slip anthrax in your milk tea the next time he sees you.)

You glance at Namjoon from the corner of your eye, definitely not ogling the way his arms flex as he loads the final couple of plates. The breath catches in your throat when you realize that some time while you were busy swimming in your junkyard of a brain, he had rolled up his sleeves up to his forearms, displaying his god-like veins for the eyes of the deplorable (you) to feast upon.

Your mouth feels dry, even though other parts of you feel more moist than you remember. Oh god, now is not the time to remember how hot this fucking nerd is.

Despite the fact that your biological clock is screaming “HORNY HOUR” at your monkey brain, Namjoon continues to be thankfully unaware of your internal panic. He closes the dishwasher door shut, clicking it on with a relieved sigh. He gives you a megawatt smile and makes your heart leap into a somersault, probably knocking around some vital organs along the way.

“Thanks so much for the help, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it without you!” he cheers, clapping you roughly on the shoulder. You wheeze under the impact, waving away his concern despite feeling like your lungs have probably slipped out of your asshole.

“It’s no problem, Namjoon…” you sigh, gazing sadly as Namjoon begins to do a final sweep of the kitchen before inevitably going to sign off for the day. You know your window of opportunity has already closed, and if you had not spent so much time staring at his beautiful man tiddies, you are sure you could have been a little more productive with him. Curse him and his damn chest.

But now, at least you’ll have more time to think of how to approach him and bring up the poem when you aren’t, like, seriously decaffeinated and on the cusp of a heart attack. You are about to bid him farewell with your tail between your legs when his hands cup your cheeks, catching you off guard.

You splutter incomprehensibly, arms flapping about like a fish out of water. “Wha––?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention! After my hours here at the senior home, I have the afternoon shift at the daycare center near our university and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

If Namjoon’s cool, large hands holding your face like a delicate flower had caught you off guard, then his sudden invitation only exacerbated the furious blush blooming across your neck like a rash.

So what do you say?

“Meep,” is what you say, like the verbose poet that you are. Y/N, renowned campus poet, has the vocabulary of a five year old.

“Is that a yes?” Namjoon smiles, letting go off you in favor of looping his gangly arms around your waist. Another unflattering noise escapes your throat at his proximity and his firmness. “That’s so great! The kids love seeing new faces, and I bet they’d love to have a pretty girl around instead of plain ol’ me all the time!”

You gape at him. Did he just say…

“P-pretty?”

“Yea, sure!” Namjoon says, his stupid grin still on his stupidly handsome face. He does not appear to be embarrassed at all by his brazenness, which is starting to make you think he is either a well-seasoned flirt or just plain oblivious to the implications of his own words. Knowing him, you wouldn’t put it past him that the latter might be the reason.

Compliments and unintentional flirting aside, you really did not feel up to another harrowing experience with Namjoon at one of his other volunteering stunts. You are but a woman in clown shoes, and even the most seasoned clowns must have their rest.

“Listen, Namjoon… I don’t think I can go with you. I have to go, uh,” you pause, your hamster brain working a mile a minute. “Water… my dog? No, I mean… feed my plant.” You cringe, mentally slapping yourself.

Namjoon, the sneaky bastard, hits you with his strongest and most potent puppy dog eyes in his arsenal. It was super effective! “Please, Y/N? I won’t take too much of your time! Just play with the kids for two hours and I promise to leave you alone!”

C’mon, Y/N. Focus. Are you the type of woman to break down her defenses for the wilful fancies of any man? You’re made of stronger stuff than this. Surely you can look him in the eye and tell him straight to his face that you would prefer to go home and rest on this beautiful Saturday than go frolicking with a bunch of snot-nosed children––

“Oh, sure. Why the hell not?” you say, like the dumb fucking idiot that you are.

Namjoon’s dimples deepen even further. You glare menacingly at them, knowing full well that they were entirely the cause of your weakness.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! The kids will really appreciate your presence! C’mon, we haven’t got time to lose!”

Namjoon does not even give you the time to fully comprehend your own pitiful existence before he nearly tugs your arm out of its socket as he maneuvers you to the local daycare just a few minutes away from the senior home. You don’t get to say your farewells to any of the seniors or your old work colleagues, but it might be for the best… You will need all the sanity left in your body to survive the rest of the day with Namjoon.

On the bright side, that means you’ll have the chance to talk to him about the poem, though you’re still hesitant to do so with how badly your previous stunts had ended up. But then again, when else would you get another good opportunity to talk to your crush acquaintance about this? You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see what happens next, and hope for the best.

You have been at the daycare for almost three hours now, and there are still no signs of you ever bringing up the poem. You might as well sign your last will and testament with the macaroni art supplies currently decorating your body, making you look like a morbid pasta dish monster from hell. You hope to god that the sticky stuff all over your skin is just cheese… White, rubbery scented cheese…

“Ain’t this fun?” Namjoon calls out from somewhere, presumably under the mass of ten or so toddlers all climbing him like a tree. You are caught in a state of déjà vu as the children start feasting upon any exposed areas of skin that their kid-sized incisors can find.

You just wanted to talk about the fucking poem for fuck’s sake! Instead, you have to deal with thirty 2-foot children and one 6-foot manchild during one of your only free days in a week.

A miniature demon tugs your sleeve, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Namjoon’s slow demise. You bend down to the little gremlin’s height, mouth twitching upwards in what you hope is a somewhat decent smile. Judging by the kid’s unimpressed face, you doubt it.

“Yes?”

“Miss Y/N? Can you tell your boyfriend that Jake peed in the ballpit again? Aera slipped on the puddle and now she’s crying and disturbing the younger kids.”

Record scratch, freeze frame. Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. Out of all the things the kid had said, you are sure that his implication that you were Namjoon’s girlfriend should not have been on the top of your list of priorities, and yet here you are, your cheeks as flushed as a baboon’s ass.

“He’s not––We’re not––” you stammer, waving your hands as you try to explain to this unenthused six year old that what she said was entirely impossible. “Namjoon is just a friend!”

You turn to look for the man in question, desperate for him to back you up when you realize he is no longer there. Confused, you leave the huffing child in search for him. You leave the main playroom and search the nearby nurseries, the kitchen, the bathroom… all of them with no Namjoon in sight. Just so you can cover all your bases, you decide to check one of the supply closets too, not really expecting to find anything except––

“Namjoon? What the fu––fudge?” You quickly correct yourself, noticing that not only is Kim Namjoon inside the cramped broom closet, but he is also surrounded by five other children huddled around what appears to be a series of tupperwares connected together by plastic straws.

Namjoon hastens a glance at you, before refocusing his attention back onto what he deems to be more important. He nudges his shoulder against the smallest of the bunch, stage whispering into her ear. “Jihyo, did you bet the three lollipops on Ant #3?”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking mildly offended. “Oppa, do you think I’m dumb? I bet all of my chocolate bars on Ant #6.”

Namjoon whistles lowly, impressed. “All-in? You’re one smart lady.”

You clear your throat. “Namjoon.”

Namjoon has the audacity to hold a finger up to silence you. “Give me a sec… Okay, Seungcheol. You said ten hard candies for Ant #2?”

“Namjoon. Are you seriously running a gambling ring in a daycare?”

He peers up at you, smiling sheepishly. “I’m, uh… Teaching them about capitalism.” He deposits the candy bets into his pocket before starting the timer on his phone. The children begin to cheer raucously, little fists pumping up as they watch their bets race towards a slice of cake.

“I can’t believe this,” you groan, wanting nothing more than the earth to swallow you whole.

Eventually, Namjoon exits the closet, gently closing the door. The shouts of the children become muted immediately. When you gaze inquisitively at him, all he does is shrug his shoulders. “What? Secret clubs allow people to explore their interests.”

At this point, you don’t really want to argue anymore. And so, the hectic day goes by, full of running after the children and occasionally having to reel Namjoon in when he does something bordering on negligence. The parents slowly start filtering in by five in the afternoon, most of whom pat Namjoon affectionately on the back and thanking him for his stellar daycare service.

“Oh, Namjoon! My little Jihyo absolutely adores you! She hardly wants to leave whenever I come to pick her up.” Jihyo’s mother smiles, slipping a small tip into Namjoon’s waiting palm. The little shit pockets it, bowing graciously at her.

“All in a day’s work, madame. I just love children, you know?” he says, sighing dramatically.

From behind her mother, Jihyo gorges herself on her prize winnings, shoving a whole packet of M&M’s into her mouth. She swallows them quickly when her mother turns to bring her home.

“I hate this,” you say to yourself, smiling through the pain.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jihyo’s mother dashes back inside, startling you. She approaches you, grasping your hands in hers and shaking it wildly until you can hear your joints pop out of their sockets. “Your name is Y/N right? Thank you for taking care of Namjoon, too. It’s so nice to see that he’s finally snagged a girl as pretty as you.”

It is a testament to how dead inside you truly are by how nonplussed you are by their unfounded accusation. At this point, they could congratulate you on your recent engagement to Namjoon and you probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks.” All in a day’s work of being a madman’s little bitch for the day.

After the last child is taken away, your Saturday finally ends. There had been no poem discussion and no progress made; only your respect from one of your long-time crushes being whittled away like the soaps on those ASMR channels until you are left with useless cubes of Irish Spring scented granules.

On your way home, you pass by Seokjin sitting languidly on the bench outside the coffee shop that you had originally intended to go to this morning. The closed sign greets you impetuously, and your wounds are salted further by the sheer presence of the most annoying man on the planet.

Seokjin sips on his venti iced Americano, Gucci sunglasses tipped downward on his nose. An odd, high pitched windshield wiper sound escapes his lips, and you belatedly realize that he must be his version of laughter. “Y/N. So nice to see you. I’m guessing that you just came out of a… fishy affair?”

You grind your teeth, flexing forward with the intent of hitting the rat bastard. Fish crackers fall out of your hair in clumps from your movement. “I’ll eat your toes if you say another word about this.”

You say that, but you know that there will be photos of you out on Facebook by the time your head meets your pillow for the night, as you hear the telltale sound of a camera shutter go off as you limp sadly back home.

The following Monday, you resolve to talk to Namjoon during your History of Music class together.

Now normally, you would never subject yourself to sitting near Namjoon in class. No, it is not because of your debilitating crush, nor his eccentric personality, nor something unexpected like insanely toxic body odor (which he does not have, by the way. He always smells alarmingly like cotton candy.) In fact, nobody likes to sit near Namjoon, made apparent by the two row radius of empty chairs around him. As much as everyone adores and idolizes him for his talent, no one can stand his propensity to overachieve like the infuriating know-it-all that he is. His hand is perpetually up in the air, begging to be picked for recitation, always with something profound to say.

“Sir, I don’t think your notes are correct. From my research, that type of music would not have existed until the 1600s––”

“Namjoon,” your professor seethes, Powerpoint clicker clutched tightly in his fists. His left eyebrow twitches concerningly as he tries to calm his breathing. “I would prefer it greatly if you do not question the actual expert in this area, is that okay with you?”

Yeah. He is definitely not someone you’d want to sit beside.

Though, he really makes it hard not to want to be around him. Despite all the imperfect parts of his personality, Namjoon always looks like the cover model of what a perfect college boyfriend should dress like. Terrible dyejob aside, his hair is slicked back in a fashionable way, revealing his beautiful forehead for all of humanity to behold. He is wearing a fitted graphic tee under a denim jacket, with loose brown slacks that look good on his endlessly long legs. To top it off, his signature wire-frame glasses sit daintily on his nose, making him appear as smart as he is.

You are suddenly reminded of the true scale of your crush on him as sweat begins to build on your neck and down your backside. How the hell are you going to approach him now that you are perfectly aware of how good he looks? It is people like Kim Namjoon that remind you of this universal truth: attractive people only exist to cause the less fortunate to forget how to use their basic motor skills.

Focus. Remember how much of a crackhead he was last Saturday? Okay, retain that information. Remember how fucking stupid he is, and this will be much easier on your heart and your loins.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to where he is seated, right at the front of the class. It is a long way down the auditorium to where he is, and you can feel the stares of a few of your classmates as you make the treacherous journey right into the proverbial lion’s maw. You do your best to ignore them, quietly sliding up next to him and waiting for him to notice your presence.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he is jotting something frantically on a notebook, a mess of words in more languages than you can speak decorating every available space on the smooth white pages. At the top of the paper, you can see what might be a tentative title for a song, perhaps? You can’t be too entirely sure, as Namjoon is part of so many clubs and organizations that he might as well be writing next week’s lunch menu for the cafeteria.

(Highly doubtful as Namjoon has a reputation for allowing inflammable things to catch on fire, but you wouldn’t put it past him to at least try and apply for a culinary position.)

It seems that Namjoon is too immersed in his writing to greet you himself, so you have to be the one to steel yourself and strike a conversation with him instead.

“Uh. Hey… Namjoon?” Smooth like butter. Seokjin would be proud.

Namjoon doesn’t reply. He keeps scribbling along, humming something indistinct under his breath.

You clear your throat. “Namjoon?”

No response. Again, “Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face. His blinking slows for a second, but he continues to ignore you.

Starting to get pissed off, you huff quietly to yourself before bringing your palm backwards and slapping him upside the head. “HEY PANINI HEAD! YOU FUCKING IN THERE OR WHAT?”

That manages to bring him out of his headspace, thankfully. “Huzzat?” Namjoon jumps, cradling the back of his neck gingerly as he stares at you, confused. Recognition filters through his eyes as he realizes belatedly what had just happened. He blushes slightly. “Oops.”

“Oops is right. Were you really going to ignore me for the rest of the class if I hadn’t slapped you?”

Namjoon shrugs, grinning in that cute goofy way that he does. “Sorry. ‘M not used to people sitting beside me, is all. Glad to have a friend in this class though! Have you always been in this class?”

“Yea, but I usually sit in the back.”

Namjoon nods, turning back to his notebook. “Sorry for ignoring you. I really didn’t mean it. When I’m in the middle of writing, it’s kind of hard to get me out of my own brain. Plus, this draft is due in two weeks and I’ve scrapped three pages worth of lyrics already… I’m kind of in a panic right now.”

You peek over his arm, trying your best to decipher some of his words. Your interest is piqued, always having wanted to see his draft notebook ever since that first time he showed you Moonchild almost a year ago. “Lungs have capsized… I am drowning in my own body… Wow, those are some dark stuff.”

“You think so?” Namjoon squints at his own messy handwriting. “I got inspired by the fish in the aquarium I volunteer in. I’m actually excited to go back there, because I want to play it for the fish and see if they like it.”

“Isn’t it better to play it at the daycare of senior home so you can actually get… human feedback?”

Namjoon gasps, hand to his heart, offended. “How dare you assume that fish can’t give quality feedback!”

“Right,” you cough, raising your hands in defeat. How dare you, indeed. “Sorry.”

Namjoon sniffs, closing his notebook just as the professor walks in to start the class. “You better be. The fishies get really offended when people say stuff like that.”

The professor begins the moment he sets down his things, so you know you won’t have time to bring up the poem, not when Namjoon is already starting to fall into his overachieving know-it-all student persona. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Hey, I have to ask you something later after class. Will you stay behind for a few moments?”

“Sure,” Namjoon replies cheerily, flipping on his laptop to start taking down notes. He stops in his tracks before gazing warily at you. “Hold on. If this is about the fishies again…”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, so you sigh instead. “No, Namjoon. This isn’t about the fishies.”

Appeased, Namjoon returns to listening attentively to the professor drone on about dead musicians and their impact on musical culture. You hardly take any notes, still nervous about talking to Namjoon about the poem. What would be the best way to approach the subject, you wonder? Your previous attempts with Seokjin and Hoseok had featured a lot of yelling and arguing, and you would prefer not to leave a bad impression on Namjoon of all people. Additionally, you don’t want to know what arguing with Namjoon would entail, because you have a strong feeling that any debate with him will only leave you second guessing your entire existence with how good he is at flipping the subject. Or, you could always kick him in the knees, but that would be like overpowering a baby––you’d be a monster for taking advantage of him.

The short one hour lecture flies by quicker than you would like. To your surprise, Namjoon only interrupts the professor twice, so you suppose that’s a win for everyone else.

“Alright class. Please remember that the research paper regarding 17th century music is due on the Friday before your break,” your professor says. He points a stern look at all of you, and maybe you’re imagining it, but somehow you feel like he pauses just a second longer when he passes his gaze over you. “And please, try not to send your paper to the entire student body to air your secret little crushes like a bunch of lovestruck idiots.”

Your ears turn an unflattering shade of red as most of the students chuckle at his little joke, all of them probably not knowing that the lovestruck idiot was just a few seats away.

“C’mon, Namjoon.” You sigh, shrugging on your backpack as you wait for him to finish packing up. Namjoon watches you curiously, brows furrowed.

“You seem dejected. Are you having trouble with class? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“N-not… not really,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we talk about this outside? People for the next class are starting to come in.”

Namjoon follows you dutifully from behind, and you can hear him bid his farewells to a few giggling freshmen as the two of you exit the lecture hall. They coo openly in his presence, with one of them bold enough to compliment his fairly generous bosom, her fingers twitching as if she is only one push away from grabbing them by the fistful.

You walk towards the small cafe near the entrance of the building, grabbing one of the empty chairs and gesturing for Namjoon to sit across from you. He does as you say, confusion still gracing his handsome features.

“So, will you tell me why you’ve called me out here now?” Namjoon asks. Before you can respond, however, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a half squished sandwich. He offers you the less crushed half, like the gentleman that he is, but you find it hard to accept when you feel like your stomach is turning inside out with nerves.

“Umm… How do I say this…” You groan, leg bouncing so incessantly that the poor table begins to shake. Namjoon doesn’t even try to stop his other sandwich half from sliding over, instead giving you a concerned glance.

Fuck it. Better to rip the band-aid off in one swoop, right?

“Y/N––?”

“Namjoon, are you aware that people think someone wrote a stupid love poem about you?”

His previously open mouth clamps shut, then. He stares at you in confusion, a dollop of mayonnaise hanging off his jutting chin. “What?”

Panicking slightly, you’re quick to continue your train of thought, probably to your own detriment. “NOT that the poem is about you, by the way. Well, it could be? No? I DIDN’T WRITE IT!” Pause for heavy breathing. “A-anyway, that’s not the point… I just wanted to ask if you were… umm… aware of it. Yeah. That’s it.”

Ohhhh my god. You stupid idiot. Fuck fuck fuck fuck you fucking stupid piece of shit ass tit fuck what other swear words are there oh yeah FUCK!!!

In the midst of your personal mental beatdown, you fail to see Namjoon’s genuine look of confusion, his head tilted to the side as he watches your face turn red. He chews on his sandwich thoughtfully. “Uh? No? I’m not aware? I really have no idea what you are talking about, Y/N.”

You finally stop swearing at yourself. “Wait, really?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Really. What poem are you talking about?”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I don’t really like being teased; I get enough of that from Seokjin.”

“No, I’m serious!” Namjoon raises his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t joke about something that is clearly giving you distress.”

“It’s not causing me distress!” You screech back, voice cracking from your tone going up a pitch. You clear your throat. “Um. Wait. So that means you haven’t heard about the huge rumor going around about a love poem being about you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, lips pursed. “Not a clue. Am I supposed to?”

Huh. You stare at the imbecile before you, his previously handsome looks starting to look less appealing by the minute. Is this shithead for real? Did you really spend hours worrying over how you would approach him about the poem, only to find out that he has no clue what you’re talking about? Like, how is it even possible for him not to know? You can’t even spend a minute doing anything without someone bringing up that stupid mistake of a poem. How the hell did you ever have a crush on him?

“Pardon? Did you say crush something?”

“Oh shit,” you curse, slapping a palm to your mouth. Did you fucking say that out loud?  

“Sorry,” Namjoon swallows thickly, a large bite of his sandwich visibly going down his gullet. “I was chewing too loudly so I didn’t hear you properly.”

You heave a sigh of relief. Okay, maybe being an idiot has its benefits.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t anything important,” you say, already arranging your things to get up and leave. If Namjoon is oblivious to all the poem shenanigans that have been circling campus, then who are you to inform him? All you can hope now is that he remains ignorant of the poem at all, and chalk it up as a success in your book. It’s not like he’s going to be curious to find out more anyway––

“Wait! Don’t go! You’ve piqued my interest now. I wanna know what you were talking about,” Namjoon pipes up, leaning his lanky body sidewards so as to block you from leaving. You halt in your movements, surprised by his sudden inquiry.

Sweat starts to form in the middle of your back at his earnest curiosity. “I––it’s nothing, Namjoon. I was just messing with you. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t think you were?” Namjoon rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t have been so adamant to call me out here just to be joking.”

“Listen, I really have to go. I have another class soon and I wanna grab lunch before I––”

“You said something about a poem.” He remains undeterred, pulling out his phone. “And it’s about me? Well, not about me, if that’s what you’re saying…”

“Hold up!” You snatch his phone out of his hands, holding it behind you to keep it from his reach. Even though you know his inquisitiveness is not his fault, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to punch him square in his cute little nose. Hell, you don’t recall wanting to fight anyone as much as you do right now.

(Seokjin sneezes somewhere in the distance, feeling offended for whatever reason. “Y/N should only be punching me,” he thinks to himself as he dumps way too much purple dye on this poor lady’s head.)

“Why are you being so weird right now? Give me back my phone!” He pouts at you, not at all knowing that your resolve is already quickly crumbling before him.

“I…” You gulp, foot tapping restlessly as you try to think of what to do. “Okay. Fine, I’ll show you the poem. Just… don’t read too deeply into it, okay? It’s just a stupid thing that got too many people excited over nothing.”

“Sure,” Namjoon nods his head, acquiescing quickly. “I don’t really like paying attention to much of the rumors and trends that happen on campus. I just want to see what this poem is all about.”

“Just… don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter, returning his phone to him. You direct him to the university confessions group page, watching as his fingers fumbled with his keyboard. Eventually, he gets to the post (pinned to the top, forever mocking you for your stupidity) and reads the short piece in record time.

There is a pause where neither of you speak. You know he has finished reading it from the way he has started to scroll down to the comments, though he quickly jumps back to the top when you glare at him to stop. He leans back into his chair, closing his phone and stares at you expressionlessly.

You click your nails across the coffee shop table as you observe him suspiciously, his lack of response making you more nervous. “Well?”

The left side of his mouth quirks up––but not in a way that might suggest glee or satisfaction––and he stays frozen like that for a bit. You have the sudden urge to wave your hand in front of him to check if he’s fine, and being the type of person to submit to your urges, you do as you please.

Thankfully, he snaps out of it, blinking quickly as if he’s forgotten that you were there. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. The poem, uh… How do I put it…”

“What?” What on earth could he have a problem with? Does he genuinely think the poem might be about him? “If you’re starting to think that the poem may be about you––”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Namjoon opens his phone again, peering at the poem questioningly. “I was just going to say that this poem is a lot less impressive than you were hyping it up to be.”

Excuse me??????? He did not fucking just say that.

“You did not just fucking say that,” you verbalize, glowering at him. You can feel the fumes start to steam out of your ears, but Namjoon remains oblivious (as per usual) to your emotions. He just hums, shrugging his shoulders with his nose upturned in the air, as if he had just smelled something horrible.

“It’s just… the meter is all messed up… Like, I’m all about free verse or whatever, but I can tell the author is trying waaaay too hard to keep whatever rhythm they had going on in the first verse.” He scrolls through the poem some more, before stopping somewhere in the middle. He shows you one of your favorite verses with a look of something akin to disdain. “And what’s up with all the moon references? That theme is so overused.”

“YOUR MIXTAPE LITERALLY HAS A SONG CALLED MOONCHILD! THAT’S WHY PEOPLE THINK THE POEM IS ABOUT YOU!” You explode, spittle flying everywhere from the force of your shout. A group of freshmen sitting nearby jump up in surprise, though most of the older, more dead-eyed college students do not even bat an eye at your spectacle. This university is full of cuckoos, is what they are probably thinking.

The biggest cuckoo of them all looks at you defensively, frowning somewhat irritably. Namjoon continues, “Yeah, but I used the moon in my song in a classy way! I would be offended if someone would write this poem for me after being inspired by my song.”

Is it possible for blood to boil inside your veins? Because you’re really starting to feel heat trail up your back up to your neck, causing you to see nothing but red and the tantalizing vision of your hands around his neck. Easy, Y/N. You can’t afford anger management therapy; you have a tuition to pay.

In all seriousness though, you cannot take this any longer. You have suffered long enough while having to follow Namjoon around like a bitch for two days, and if karma still wants to use the strap on you, then she’s going to have to do it some other day because you cannot physically stand being around Namjoon for another ten seconds if you can help it. And this is coming from someone who is around Kim Seokjin at least twice a week, so it is obvious that your patience and sanity is truly at its limit.

“I’m done.” You are barely able to keep yourself from slamming your head against the table. Instead, you stand up hastily, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shoulder your bag quickly, waving at him without even turning to face him. The sooner you get away from him, the better. “You can think what you want. Just live your life, man. I’m done.”

“Okay? Well, have a nice day, Y/N!” Namjoon calls out a cheery goodbye, though his tone obviously still sounds confused even as you walk further and further away from him, a trainwreck of a human being. You resolve to yourself to call Hana the next morning to ask her to slip some opened sweets into his jean pocket so the ants at the daycare might climb out of their shelter to bite him in the balls.

How did you ever have a crush on that bastard? I guess that mystery will have to remain… unsolved.

Unluckily, your mood does not improve after lunch, nor do you calm down after your next class either. In fact, you are still steaming when you arrive to your tutoring session with Hoseok, so much so that you have completely forgotten to be worried about him after the events of last Friday.

(Record scratch, freeze frame. Pause. What the hell happened last Friday again? Your overworked brain cells can only handle one stressful event at a time, so you suppose that problem with Hoseok and Jimin will have to be solved another day.)

Hoseok, the caring boy that he is, also forgets to retain his moodiness from Friday’s argument when he spots you looking like you were about to pop a blood vessel at any moment.

Hoseok sits hesitantly in front of you, even placing his textbooks gently onto the table as if any sudden sounds might cause you to self-combust and splatter your guts all over the library floor. The only thing really keeping you from doing exactly that is because you wouldn’t want poor Jungkook the library assistant to have to clean up your mess.

“Umm… Hey, Y/N. You okay? You look kind of… red.” Hoseok says carefully, smile twitching on his face.

The suddenness at which you slam your hands on the table causes not only Hoseok, but also Jungkook who is three whole bookshelves away, to jump up in surprise. The former makes a terrified scream to accompany his leap into the air, staring at your frantically with his fists held up in defense.

“AHH? Y/N, what’s going on––”

“SHUT UP!” You point a finger menacingly at him, making him shriek once more. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding audibly. “YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT, HOSEOK? I’LL WRITE THE NICEST POEM IN THE ENTIRE WORLD FOR YOU, OKAY? YOU DESERVE IT! FUCK WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS! I’M A GOOD WRITER AND NOTHING KIM NAMJOON SAYS WILL CHANGE THAT!”

Hoseok’s mouth opens, agape. He doesn’t know how to respond, not quite understanding what you were saying in the first place. A lot of angry words spilled from your lips in such a short amount of time, and Hoseok was more impressed with your flow than anything. Were you a rapper, by any chance?

Unaware of Hoseok’s musings, you huff loudly to yourself, slamming open your lecture notes and shoving them aggressively towards him. “ALSO, I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF WRITING A REVIEWER FOR YOUR MIDTERM! PLEASE READ THROUGH THEM IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!”

“Umm… Thanks?” Hoseok says, not really sure which part of your loud declarations he is specifically thanking you for. He sneaks a glance at the front desk, thankful that it is only meek little Jungkook in charge today and not the cranky older librarian who already has a personal vendetta against you and your tutoring group for being public nuisances (not that she was unjustly pointing fingers, of course).

Your mental collapse aside, the rest of his tutoring session goes smoothly, with Hoseok still walking on eggshells around you just in case you might feel like exploding again. You know, for fun or something. Although, he does end up asking if he can leave a few minutes early, saying something about a paper due at the end of the week. The excuse doesn’t make you bat an eye until Jimin arrives for his own session, his grin faltering when he sees his hyung not there to greet him with their usual dance battle in the library.

“Ah… Guess Hoseok-hyung really is still mad over what happened…” Jimin sighs, slumping into his chair. He thumbs his textbook thoughtfully, tongue sticking out like a puppy.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over soon,” you say hopefully, though your heart isn’t quite in it either. Coughing awkwardly, you pluck his textbook out of his hands, desperate to talk about something else other than your crumbling interpersonal relationships. You pause at the page, however, before staring incredulously back at Jimin.

“Jimin.”

“Hmm?” Jimin is still listless, head pillowed by his arms on the table. “What?”

“This is a book on differential calculus. I’m supposed to teach you about writing academic essays.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimin sighs, closing his eyes. “I stole that book from some freshman on the way here. The English textbook I usually bring is with Taehyung right now.”

You pause. Actually, now that you think about it… “Jimin, do you actually even go to this university? What the hell is your major, even?”

“Wha-?” Jimin yawns, fanning his mouth with his hand. He blinks sleepily at you with a big, doofy grin. “Sorry, I played MapleStory for hours last night and I haven’t gotten much sleep. Can I just sleep during this session? I’ll still pay you or whatever…” he trails off, stretching like a cat under a patch of sunlight. Before you know it, the soft sound of Jimin’s snoring fills the silence.

Thankfully, Monday ends without much more commotion. You may have come out of this experience a little bit more broken inside, but hey! That’s what character development is all about, babey. You are just glad that Tuesdays are usually your quietest days, as you only have two classes to worry about. It is also one of the days when you have Creative Writing with Sera, who usually manages to rope you in to get greasy fast food after class. Despite the traumatic experience that particular class has indirectly inflicted upon you, your usual zeal and excitement does not diminish in the slightest. After all, writing will always be your first love, so there isn’t any way some silly poem mishap will make you detest it.

Hopefully nothing else will go wrong, because you aren’t so sure your sanity can take much more of a pounding.

(Fwip. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of karma putting on her strap.)

“Alright class, see you guys on Thursday. Don’t forget that we have a quiz at the beginning of class on Thursday, so please don’t be late.” Professor Puth says, his eyelids blinking out of sync. You hate to be someone who assumes what other people do during their off days as it is none of your business, though the perpetual cloud of marijuana that clings around him can only do so much to mask what his recreational activities might be.

“Dude, I think Prof Puth is finding Nirvana soon,” Sera says loudly, earning the giggles of a few classmates nearby.

“I’d be surprised if he could even find the exit of this building,” you snort, just as the man in question trips over air and nearly faceplants on the ground. Like the model students that you are, you both pretend to be busy doing something else, leaving some other poor soul to help your professor.

Two girls that you vaguely remember from somewhere approach Professor Puth. They are quick to help him straighten up, if his groaning and gasping are anything to go by. He thanks them gruffly and waves them off, but the girls seem adamant to stay put.

“Professor, I have a question…” One of the girls asks, nervously tugging on her ponytail. Her friend giggles surreptitiously beside her, urging her to continue. Their odd demeanor causes signals to go off in your brain, telling you to stop and listen. You tug on Sera’s hand, halting her from leaving.

“Wait. I wanna hear what they’re gonna ask,” you mutter, ignoring Sera’s complaints about being hungry. She can wait for her McNuggets for another five minutes, no matter how much she pretends that she’s starving. You had seen her eat two whole burritos before coming into class today.

Professor Puth raises his brow. “Yes? What do you need?”

“We were just wondering if you could… tell us anything about the identity of the author from that poem?” The girl manages to get all of it out in a rush, cheeks flushed as her friend nods fervently beside her.

“Yea, Prof! We’ve been dying to know! The suspense is killing us, knowing that the mystery author is in one of your classes!” The other girl continues, glittery excitement practically exuding out of her in waves.

Professor Puth sighs, leaning heavily on his desk. He appears about as done as you feel. “Listen… You can badger me all you want, but there’s no way I can tell you. Privacy laws prevent us from sharing information like that without prior consent, even though that student in question might have accidentally sent her assignment to the entire school.” You might be imagining it, but you think Professor Puth points you with a knowing look. You gulp, hastily bowing your head and pretending to fiddle with your phone.

“Aww, Prof! It’s been days and the university hasn’t shut up about it! Surely one of the theories on who the author and muse are must be true, right? You can tell us that, at least.”

You can’t bear to keep listening any longer, though Sera has started to become more interested in the conversation as it progressed. “Wait, wait… I wanna hear the Prof’s opinion,” she says, grinning despite your nails digging crescents into her arm as you try to pull her away.

“No can do! Remember, I have your freshman Halloween pictures saved on a harddrive, and you wouldn’t want me to accidentally send that to the entire student body as well, would you?”

That manages to snap her out of it. Quickly, the two of you leave the lecture hall and away from possible discovery by your poem-frenzied classmates. You are also relieved to be able to breathe in fresh air once more, after being stuck in that class surrounded by liberal art students for two hours. You always do feel a little bit more relaxed after class with Puth, although that might just be from all the secondhand drug use.

Perhaps the fumes really did dull your reflexes, as it takes a while before you realize that Sera has been nudging your shoulder.

When you finally glanced at her, there is a sneaky grin on her face: never a good sign. “So,” she begins, a singsong quality in her voice

After having been her friend for long enough, you have become adept at telling what Sera is going to say next. Call it intuition or whatever, but you like to think of it is a self-defense mechanism. As much as she is your friend, she does love digging into your personal life like it is the cover story of some shitty tabloid. You have to prepare yourself to be interrogated.

“You’re going to ask about the poem, aren’t you?”

Sera rolls her eyes, like you shouldn’t have even asked. “Duh, of course I am. What else would I want to talk about?”

You shrug your shoulders, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you could have asked ‘Hey, Y/N! How’s your mom been? Have you been eating and drinking well?’ You know, like a normal person.”

“Well, firstable, your mom is literally my friend on Facebook and I saw her go out to that bougie high tea place with Jennie’s mom the other day, so I know she’s fine,” Sera says as the two of you round a corner, heading closer to the parking lot where her car is. “And secondable, you don’t fucking drink water, because you like pretending to be a dehydrated piece of jerky.”

“I just like drinking apple juice, okay? Water is weird,” you say defensively, kicking a pebble as you walk.

“Nah, you’re weird,” Sera counters, ever the creative debater. She remains undeterred, however. “So. Any updates on the poem situation or am I going to have tickle the details out of you?”

You groan, pushing her away from your sensitive sides. “Please don’t… I have no upper body strength and I won’t be able to push you off!”

“That’s the point.” Sera laughs, pinching your cheek. She snatches her hand away, only narrowly escapes getting bitten by you. “Why don’t we skip my torture methods then and go straight to the juicy bits? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”

“What if nothing has happened since I last saw you?” You grumble, miffed that she really isn’t letting it go. You just want to have one relaxing day, is that too much to ask?

Apparently, it is. Relaxation is a rare commodity these days. Sera snorts, patting you condescendingly on the back. “Nonsense. You’ve got that post-mental breakdown glow around you. You look absolutely radiant with stress!”

The conversations pauses for a bit when you make it to the parking lot. You don’t have to walk too far, as her car is parked relatively close to the exit, which is just another display of how lucky Sera often is in comparison to you. While your unfortunate plebeian ass is busy drowning in shit, Sera is off somewhere aboard a yacht, getting a massage from some Instagram thot.

She hops into the driver’s seat, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on before backing out with one hand on the wheel. “McDonalds?” she asks, though it is pretty much a given that is where you are going. The last time you both tried diverging from your usual hang out spot, you got intense food poisoning from eating at Chipotle. Sera came out completely fine though, that lucky bitch.

She continues her questions on the drive there, and you relent by telling her most of what has happened to you over the past few days. You gloss over the argument between Hoseok and Jimin, not really wanting their spat to suddenly go viral on Facebook as well. Everything else, however––

“Wait, so you talked to Kim Namjoon? The Kim Namjoon? The Namjoon that you had an embarrassing crush on during our first year?” Sera laughs maniacally, almost driving off into the wrong lane. Luckily, you are quick to latch onto the wheel, saving the two of you from becoming roadkill.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“No, but Y/N! That’s literally so fucking funny!” Sera’s laughter has simmered to a giggle, despite the fact that she is still trying (and failing) to furtively glance your way when you hit a stoplight. “Is he like how you remember? God, do you remember how you were after you first met him? All starstruck because your senpai showed you a draft of his single? ‘Oh, Sera! He has the most amaaaazing flow! I’m going to suck his di––’”

“Shut up!” You whine, slapping her in embarrassment. “Believe me, that crush has died, along with any respect I may have had for him. Men are scum, and I’m going to only date girls from now on.”

“Fine by me! More dick to suck for me, I guess.” Sera teases, whistling innocently. Bold of her to assume that there is any innocent or pure bone in her body; you’ve seen her thirst tweets and no amount of holy water can cure the disease that your vision must have sustained.

“I just want the rumors to die down… It would make my life way more bearable.” You murmur to yourself, sliding down your seat.

Sera is silent for a while. The McDonalds is just within sight, so Sera waits until she has finished parking before she turns to face you fully, uncanny sincerity in her expression. It unnerves you how serious she is, not when you know that this is the same girl who would snort sugar packets if you bet her $5. She places her hands on your shoulder, fixing you with a meaningful look.

“Listen, Y/N. I know all of this is tough right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be alright, okay? The rumor is going to die down soon enough, and everything will be back to normal. Stay strong for now.” Her voice is soothing, sympathy dripping from every word. As mortifying as it is to admit, the tears flow down your cheek effortlessly; perhaps it is the consequence of having to bear this burden on your own for so long without anyone actually telling you that it’s going to be alright.

“Thanks… I think I needed that,” you say after a while, sniffling just a bit. Sera grins fondly at you, wiping your tears.

“No need to thank me. I may be a chaotic shithead, but I’m also your friend.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, gesturing for you to do the same. “C’mon, let’s go in. I’ll even share my nuggets with you.”

Despite her best efforts at comfort, you still feel a little bummed. You allow yourself to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, as McDonalds is a prime location to feel shitty about your life choices anyway. The heart attack inducing food, the barely hygienic facilities, the minimum wage high school employees… Nothing else screamed “I’d rather be dead but it could also be worse” quite like Mickey D’s often did.

You wait by one of the booths while Sera goes off to order for the both of you, leaving you with her phone and other belongings. She promises to let you eat four out of the twenty nugget pieces, which is asking a lot considering who you are dealing with. Sera could probably eat sixty nuggets if she so desired, but only stops herself so she can be physically well enough to continue being a thot. Chasing men all day requires physical fitness, or so she says.

When you go to place her things on the other side of the booth, you notice that Sera had accidentally left her phone unlocked. You can see that she had been previously looking at one of those popular forum sites for your university, where most of her repertoire of gossip is usually sourced from. You aren’t usually the type to frequent those types of pages, with good reason too. That exact forum is the reason of your current stress, where your most private thoughts and feelings were revealed for all to see. Any sort of positive opinion you might have had for that site was immediately dashed the moment that cursed poem was released into the wild.

It kind of pisses you off that Sera still uses that forum despite knowing how much anxiety it has caused you, but then again, there is only so much you can expect from her. Her appetite for drama and chaos is her way of life, her only other hobby aside from writing. You also vaguely recall her saying that she gathers inspiration for her short stories from some of the more outrageous posts made by your fellow schoolmates.

In the end, curiosity gets the best of you as you stare at the open webpage, tantalizing despite the murkiness that lies within. Oh, lighten up. It’s just a confessions page… Besides, you also kind of want to see what people are saying about your poem, and whether the commotion might have died even slightly over time. (Unlikely, but you remain hopeful.)

“Let’s see,” you murmur to yourself, sneaking glances at the counter to see if Sera is close to ordering. She appears to still be next in line to order, so that might give you enough time to read a few of the comments on the post. It doesn’t take you long to find the original post either, since Sera seems to have been perusing the same thing just beforehand.

“Typical Sera...  Sympathetic in the streets, a nosey bitch in the sheets.” You snort, scrolling quickly through the comment section. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for a few overenthusiastic responses from a couple of people who have bombarded the forum so much that it takes you a few moments to navigate past their thread. You catch a few words here and there, mostly the names of the seven possible muses and not so much the names of any of the possible authors. Honestly, you are more than happy with these turn of events, perfectly content as long as your identity never sees the day where it becomes associated with that disaster piece.

You sort the comments by popularity, wanting to know what everyone’s biggest guesses are. You want to remain hopeful, but as the results start to load, the wave of nausea that suddenly hits you may have been the first warning signal that you should probably stop before you read something that you will regret.

posted by u/SeokjinGod [3d ago]:

[+103, -4] i’m really hoping that kim seokjin is the muse of the poem!! has anyone seen the ads for the new play he’s staring in? he totally looks like the lead actor in a romantic comedy ^^

➾ [+54, -69] psh. that idiot, the muse? PLEASE anyone who has ever worked for kim seokjin KNOWS that it’s physically impossible to form a human connection with that man

➾ [+2, -1] lol seconded

posted by u/namuwuchild [1d ago]:

[+88, -3] WAIT why am i not seeing kim namjoon’s name more often T_T he deserves more love!! stream moonchild or else i’ll bite your ankles

➾ [+1, -6] lol i miss when namjoon used to do actual hiphop… fucking hippie dippie go fuck a tree and some crabs while you’re at it

You sneak a look over your shoulder. Sera is at the front of the line, reciting her orders while the harried employee has to quickly punch in the inordinate amount of food items. Okay… While no one’s looking, time to downvote a couple of these and maybe report some of these assholes… No way in hell are you letting anyone think Moonlight Sonata is about either of those Kim idiots. You would honestly rather out yourself than let anyone think they are worthy of such public displays of love and humiliation.

You are just about to close Sera’s phone and vow never to set foot on social media ever again when the next post catches your eye––the first one where you actually see your name. In fact, your name is generously sprinkled a number of times in this one specific thread.

“Wait a second…” You squint at the top of the thread, reading out the username of the original poster. Is that… Is that your name?!

“User Y/NKook… Oh my god!” You shriek loudly, almost dropping the phone from your sweaty palms. It must be the same person who had organized that merchandise booth in the cafeteria the other week! The number of upvotes on the post isn’t making you feel any better.

posted by u/Y/NKook [3h ago]:

[+98, -5] idk why you noobs are even trying… intellectuals KNOW that y/nkook is real and i won’t take no for an answer… give me my childhood friends to lovers fic RIGHT NOW because this slowburn has been going on for years now and i can’t stand it!!!

➾ [+11, -0] omg op do you know them personally?? how’d you know that they were childhood friends?? i go to the same drama class as y/n and jungkook but they never sit together… are you sure it’s them??

➾ [+20, -1] of course!! they’re even neighbors… besides, haven’t you heard what his nickname is? his friends call him moon eyes for a reason! they say that y/n is the one who gave him that name ^^

You feel your eye twitch, disbelief flooding your senses. Why is this weirdo shipping you with Jungkook? You guys haven’t even spoken properly since elementary school… How does this dude know who you are? Are you being stalked? You whirl your head around, scanning the restaurant for any suspicious people who may or may not be following you. Is this what celebrities feel like when they get shipped with their friends? You feel a sudden surge of respect for them, unable to grasp the situation that you are in. God, you really hope Jungkook hasn’t read any of these.

You go to switch Sera’s phone off, feeling less accomplished than ever before. Maybe it is best to save yourself the anxiety of seeing your world fall apart and try to delude yourself into thinking that the past two weeks have never happened at all. However, there is a certain appeal to reading things that you know you should not, like watching a car crash and unable to look away. The urge to keep scrolling and gaze upon your own personal hell is hard to stop when you have already gained momentum.

“One last post, then I’m done…” You are hard set on that promise, not wanting your apprehension to destroy your peaceful afternoon completely. The next post on the forum greets you with a high upvote number, sending a lick of fear to run down your spine at what you might find. Please don’t be about Y/NKook, you pray helplessly. Little did you know, there are worse things to worry about other than being shipped with your friends.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [1h ago]:

[+154, -5] hey guys i’m back again with another update! so i’ve managed to shorten the list a bit since last time i posted, and i’m 100% certain that kim seokjin is not the muse! sorry, gamers… our prince is in another castle it seems. worry not, though! that only helps our search better and shortens the list. on the other hand, the authors list has also been edited! turns out that neither jodi nor melody is the author, as they both submitted poems about something else. if you are interested to see the updated lists for both muse and author, please head to my profile and look for the original post titled “Mystery Moon Author & Their Mystery Muse” :-)

You have never clicked on a profile as quickly as you did in that moment. Not even a notification from UberEats could make you move that fast.

Lo and behold, the post that started it all is right at the top of the user’s profile, with the significantly shorter list that they had promised. Sweat begins to build on your temples when you realize that the authors list has decreased to seven names, with your name still obstinately sitting at the end of the lines. When will your suffering end?

There is still something that doesn’t sit right with you, however. As you peruse this user’s profile some more, you feel as if there is something weird about it that you can’t quite place. You never did like using this forum, so maybe you are just not used to the layout of the website? What is it about this user’s profile that is making your stomach coil with nerves?

Wait a second… Why is there an edit button beside their profile picture?

“Y/N! I’m back! Sorry for taking so long; I think I ordered too much again. You’re fine with BBQ sauce on your nuggs, right? That’s all I asked for––” Sera had been happily chirping away, sliding into the bench across from you before finally noticing your stoney face. She pats her face, rubbing her cheeks in confusion. “What? Do I have something on me?”

“How fucking dare you!” You hiss, slamming her phone on the table. Unfortunately, you had accidentally locked the phone in your anger, showing only a black screen.

Sera flinches backwards, bewildered. Her eyes flick to the screen and then to you. “Huh? I thought you liked BBQ sauce on your nuggs? I mean, I can ask for sweet and sour sauce if you want…”

“Unlock your phone right now and explain to me why you have triceratops’ profile logged in.”

Your words begin to click in Sera’s mind. Her face grows pale, her body unconsciously sliding further into the booth to hide from your glare. “U-uh… Haha, what on earth are you talking about..?”

“Don’t even try to lie, Sera. I saw everything, and I honestly don’t know if I’m madder that you betrayed me or that I was stupid enough to believe that you were my friend.”

Sera splutters incomprehensibly at first, waving her arms in panic as she tries to save her ass. “I––! You––! It wasn’t like I––”

You lean forward, peering at her coldly. “Oh yeah? What wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like we were friends?”

“No, of course not! I mean,” she backtracks, tongue-tied. “We are friends! It’s just… I made that post before I knew you were the author and I originally sent the poem to just a couple of people because I was so impressed, and I just wanted to––”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, holding up a finger. She squeaks, staring at you fearfully as you slowly get up to your feet. You cry out, “You were also the one who released my fucking poem to the world?!”

“Anna ou––” Sera whimpers, slapping her palm to her mouth. She lowers it, whispering ruefully. “I… didn’t mean to say that…”

“Oh, so you were meaning to lie to me even more?” You seethe, ready to burst into flames.

The poor McDonalds employee who had come to deliver your order to your table seems too frightened to approach the two of you, her arms shaking both with fear and the weight of five orders of 20 piece chicken nuggets. “Uh, is this a bad time?” The girl asks, eyes darting away from your heated glare.

Instead of answering, you grab the tray from her hands and dump the contents on the table. Sera squawks pitifully when a few of the nuggets fall to the ground, though she absolutely yells when you start chucking them at her head like tiny oily cannonballs.

“What the fuck––Dude stop!” Sera has her arms up in defense, shielding her face from your fiery attack. The sound of you ripping open a BBQ sauce packet has her straightening up, however. “No, not the BBQ sauce! Anything but that!”

“Give me one reason why I should show you mercy.” Your hand is poised to pour the sticky sauce all over her white Valentino bag, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Please, Y/N! I’m really sorry!” Sera jumps out of the booth, and goes on her knees. She clasps her hands together, shaking them frantically. “I really didn’t know it was you at first!”

“Well then, why didn’t you fucking take the post down the moment you did know it was me? I thought you were my friend!” You clench your fist around the BBQ sauce packet, causing some of it to spill onto her bag. She makes a desperate noise.

“I just… I like the attention?” She knows this is the wrong answer, judging by your unimpressed expression. She sighs heavily, head bowed in shame. “Look, I’ll fix this, alright? I genuinely didn’t do this wanting to hurt you… I just got so caught up in the clout that I didn’t really think about what would happen if you found out!”

“‘If’ I found out, huh…” You echo, more disappointed than angry now. You slump back into your chair, taking care to grab the napkins and cleaning the sticky mess on your skin as best as you can. “You really were going to continue doing this for as long as it took, huh?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Her voice is soft, repentant. It doesn’t do much for your sympathy, however.

“Fuck you, honestly. If you really are sorry, you’ll fix this mess as soon as possible.”

You reach for your bag, your movements jostling a few more nuggets to tumble to the floor. You don’t bother saying goodbye, not wanting to see if Sera is doing her Crying Face Emoji impression to try and soften you up. Not this time. This time… you don’t think your feelings can recover after this.

You have read enough stories about heartbreak and longing, but you don’t think any of them top the experience of losing a friend you realize you never even had.

The next morning, there is a new post on the forum from user triceratops.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [0s ago]:

[+0, -0] Hello, friends. I think I’ve found the author.

It’s Lee Sera.

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

Thoughts on Outlander season 4

Disclaimer: I’ve never read the books, so all of my opinions are based solely on what I know from watching the show. 

Warning: This will contain spoilers for season 4 and it will not be Roger or Brianna/Roger friendly.

There’s a lot of disappointed and/or frustrated fans with Outlander’s fourth season and I understand why. Overall the season has been underwhelming, inconsistent and lacking any cohesive, engaging plot. In addition, season 4 has had the least amount of on-screen interactions between Claire and Jamie than any of the seasons before it. However, there were memorable moments in the season which were beautiful to watch - Jamie and Brianna’s first meeting, Jamie and Claire finally finding a home at Fraser’s Ridge and experiencing some form of normalcy and domestic bliss (even if it was short-lived), Jamie and Claire’s reunion with Murtagh and every episode/scene with John Grey in it (because who doesn’t love John?). The season also highlighted prominent social and historical issues regarding race, colonialism and slavery (although the show didn’t quite go far enough or give these topics as much focus as they deserved).

The main issue with season 4 is that there was a complete lack of direction or clarity (which may be the fault of the books as the source material, but I wouldn’t know since I haven’t read them). Putting aside Brianna’s arc with Roger, there was very little of anything that happened and on reflection, looking back over the season 4 episodes I’m struggling to articulate what the story for this season was at all. I strongly believe this lack of clarity comes from the shift away from Jamie and Claire as the central focus of the show. It’s the only season that has pushed Jamie and Claire into the background and allowed other characters (mainly Brianna) to take centre stage. Although it was nice to learn more about Brianna, unfortunately, her character and arc (and particularly her relationship with Roger, which I’ll discuss in more detail later) does not hold the same weight as Jamie and Claire’s. Claire and Jamie are the heart and soul of the show, and Caitriona and Sam’s on-screen chemistry is the foundation upon which Outlander is built. A majority of the fans of the books and/or the show are primarily invested in Jamie and Claire’s individual characters and their relationship. To take such a huge step back from that, in my opinion, was a mistake. Without Jamie and Claire it felt the Outlander universe was spinning through infinity with no gravity to keep it grounded. 

Unfortunately, I feel that the same thing has happened on Outlander that happens in many stories (whether in books, television or film), whereby the child of the main couple has dramatically changed the tone of the story and stolen the spotlight from their parents. This is no affront to Sophie Skelton, who I think is a wonderful actress and has done an amazing job in her portrayal of Brianna, but generally, Brianna’s season 4 arc has been atrocious and done no justice to her character. To an extent, it’s hard to criticise the show too much on this front because I assume the show is following the books, but for the entirety of the season Brianna has been reduced to a fragile, pregnant woman and rape victim whose whole arc is entangled in men. There’s been no room to explore any facet of her character outside her “relationship” (I use inverted commas, because I’m using the term loosely) with Roger. Despite her meeting with Jamie being one of the most highly anticipated moments of the entire series, she was barely given a chance to get to know her father and bond with him before the pregnancy/Roger drama exploded. Although we met Brianna in season 3, we still know very little about her. We know she’s a student, that she studied history but changed her mind and was uncertain about her future, that she has the same fiery attitude as Claire does and she had a close relationship with Frank. But what else do we really know about her? Even after an entire season focused on her, I feel like Brianna is a stranger. There was a lot of potential in switching the focus from Jamie and Claire to the next generation (meaning Brianna), but it would’ve been so much better if her character had been explored in more meaningful ways and her arc had been better written and not been so focused on Roger and Bonnet. In particular, I think season 4 and Brianna’s arc would’ve been a thousand times better if Roger had been removed from the equation. 

I’ll put this out there - I do not like Roger.  In season 3, I didn’t have much of an opinion on him, but his actions this season have transformed him into a very unlikable and unsympathetic character, who I find, quite frankly, abhorrent. Not only has he treated Brianna as a prize to be won, he has behaved like a petulant child consistently, giving no regard or consideration to anyone but himself. At this point it’s hard to understand why Brianna loves him. That made their reunion at the end of season 4 with the classic running hug and swelling romantic music feel completely unearned. In fact, that scene left a bitter taste in my mouth and didn’t feel like a good pay-off at all. When Roger and Brianna were friends, they were cute, but everything that has developed between them since, in a romantic sense, has felt completely forced and inorganic. Roger’s proposal to Brianna was awful and the moment I realised I couldn’t get on-board with Roger and Brianna as a ship. For starters, Roger and Brianna barely knew each other when he proposed to her. They lived half way across the world from one another, had spent a long time apart and had only been friends and his out-of-the-blue proposal not only was completely rushed and inappropriate, but his reaction to Brianna’s rejection of his proposal revealed him to be a royal twat. Instead of understanding Brianna’s shock and her reasons for rejecting him, he lashed out selfishly and insulted her honour and character. I could walk you all through the rest of their “relationship” in season 4, but that would be boring and a waste of time, and I’m sure none of us want to relive that. The point is that Roger’s relationship with Brianna was supposed to be some epic love story on par with Jamie and Claire’s, but it has fallen short of that on every count. Roger seemed more obsessed with the idea of Brianna than in love with her, and Roger’s actions mean that there is no logical reason why Brianna should love him at all. They were barely together for 5 minutes, they argued multiple times and spent most of the season apart and yet we’re supposed to buy into them as a romantic couple? The over-investment in this relationship (and Roger and Bree generally) was very detrimental to season 4 as a whole and I strongly believe that removing Roger from the season would’ve greatly improved it and allowed the characters we know and love (primarily Jamie and Claire) to have the screen-time they deserved. 

Putting aside the Roger and Brianna/Roger arc, the season had a lot of great moments (some of which I’ve mentioned above). Jamie and Claire had some lovely on-screen moments (even if there weren’t as many as we’re accustomed to) and this was probably the only season where they didn’t come up against any disastrous hurdles that separated them from one another. Although we didn’t get to see as much of their domestic bliss as some fans had hoped, at least their relationship was secure this season for the first time ever. It was also invaluable to see Jamie, Claire and Brianna together as a family. Even just to see the three of them sitting together at the table eating dinner was such a beautiful moment and those subtle scenes were more of a pay-off than the over-blown reunion between Bree and Roger. Jocasta was a wonderful addition to the show and ‘Do No Harm’ (4x02) was by far the episode that touched me the most emotionally. Murtagh returning to the show as a recurring character evoked a sense of nostalgia and was very enjoyable. Everything that was done with John Grey was wonderful, the complexities of that character draw me in every time and it was fascinating to see his interactions with Bree. Young Ian was a delight, and his joining the Mohawk in the final episode was truly the highlight of the finale for me. He provided comedic relief on numerous occasions, but that moment showed the true courage and bravery and the love he had for his family. The scenes between Jamie and Brianna were touching and much needed (although my only complaint again is that there wasn’t enough). Honestly, Brianna finding her parents, finally meeting Jamie and Jamie’s reaction to that alone makes this season enjoyable to me. Brianna is such a huge part of Jamie and to see him go through that process of meeting her as a fully grown woman, grieving the loss of the baby he envisioned and missed out on raising, getting to know Bree as an adult, trying to understand and respect Frank as her father whilst also establishing his own bond with her and all of the complications that come from the nature of his and Bree’s relationship was lovely to watch. The season really felt like one that was about the parent-child relationship, and Jamie and Brianna were the epitome of that. 

Overall, I don’t believe season 4 was a terrible season, but there was a lot of room for improvement and some poor decisions made. However, it was rather in-keeping with its predecessor - season 3 - which I felt was also weak and inconsistent in comparison to the first two seasons. In fact, I preferred watching season 4 week to week than I did season 3. Personally, I believe that adult Brianna transformed the entire vibe/direction of the show (whether that was for the better or worse is up to interpretation) and that even if season 5 gives fans what they want and shifts the focus back to Jamie and Claire, it will continue down its changed path that has Brianna at its centre, with new additions of Roger and her son to boot. 

[secretpianer]

Apple Juice

hey look another bunny fic where butters runs away

Hell in Butters’ mind was never a pit of fire that burned for an eternity, or an nightmarish abyss roiling with the souls of the damned; it is a flat, infinitely expanding plane of frozen, desolate loneliness; a spearing cold that eats brutally at your flesh, then your muscles, then your bones, until they turn brittle, crumbling to ugly flecks of dust and blown into the windchill where they’d become part of the iced, hard landscape.

This is Hell; broken down five miles past Stark’s Pond at four in the morning with a snowstorm on its way. All of his possessions are in his car– well, the important ones are, like blankets, pillows, clothes, his laptop, some food and even toilet paper, enough to pack the entire backseat full, and as smoke plumes from the hood of his poor sedan all he can think is how cold it’ll be when he opens the door, and that if he can’t fix the engine the heat built up in his car will escape and his fingers will freeze off before he has a chance to figure out what went wrong or what to do next.

He can’t risk it. He’ll have to call someone. He takes out his phone, ignoring the tremble in his hand. His parents? He’d rather die of frostbite than ask them for help. His “friends” might be up– he considers Stan, but Stan’s reliability depends on Kyle, whose moral compass is radically skewed by whatever mood he or his mother is in, and at four in the morning it might not be so peachy. Cartman would come, only to laugh at his misfortune and then leave him to be buried in the storm. There’s only one option, the only one that was there from the beginning.

Butters prays for the signal to go through, and then smiles as the phone begins to ring. It rings for a long time. Butters is on edge, the muscles in his tensing jaw causing his teeth to chatter. The heat is rapidly draining from inside his car. Soon, he’ll have no choice but to consider about walking–

A click.

“Hello?”

The voice is groggy and agitated, but it’s there. Warm tears of relief brim his eyes.

“Kenny, I’m so sorry for waking you up, b-but I’m in a bit of a pickle here and I need your help.”

“Is it important enough that I have to get out of bed at four– shit fucking hell, it’s four in the goddamn morning–”

Butters sniffles. The tears brimming his eyes threaten to fall– it’s painful to hold them in, but he does. “I’m broken down. Dead in the water. I wouldn’t have called otherwise, but I’m out of town and it’s gonna snow soon, not just any snow but a storm and I might get trapped here a-and turn into a popsicle or get murdered by my parents and then turned into a popsicle–”

“Slow down.”

Butters hears a grunt and some shuffling, then Kenny is back on the receiver, more alert but more irritated.

“Where are you at?”

His pulse quickens with hope. “The interstate outside Sewell Park, about ten minutes out. I’m so gosh darn sorry about this, if I had just gotten the stupid thing maintenanced before I went out–”

“Hush. You owe me for this, Stotch.” Butters hears what he’s sure is a suppressed yawn. And then, in a gentler tone, “Hang tight, and stay warm. I’m on my way.”

Kenny ends the call and Butters sets his phone down. Streetlamps line the white roads. Through the orange glow, snow begins to fall.

Powdery and light at first, he knows, but soon it will rain in heavy torrents from the sky. The clouds have been blocking the sun and stars for days. He wanted to leave town before then, but like always, things didn’t turn out how he wanted. At least he’s not going to freeze. He leans his head back in the chair, closing his eyes.

Being buried in snow is not as fluffy and soft as Butters had used to imagine. It’s a slow, suffocating weight, a cold so dry and consuming that it burns. He used to love rolling in fresh falls of it, because it was so pillowy, light, and shallow enough to trudge through knee-deep, but ever since he bought his own car he’s dreamt of driving to Arizona, basking in its blistering heat, or even California, lounging on a breezy beach with burnt shoulders and sand in his hair.

Kenny arrives to him curled up tight into one of his extra coats. The engine has stopped smoking, and Kenny is looking from it to Butters, who is slow blinking awake in the driver’s seat and stiffly unwinding his frigid limbs. Kenny knocks on the window.

“You still alive in there?”

Butters opens the door and whimpers as ice cold air floods into his car. Kenny does not look pleased; he’s wearing his parka, snow caught in its fur, with his iron man pajama bottoms and unlaced hiking boots. Butters bows his head.

“Unfortunately.”

Kenny sighs heavily. “Don’t say that. Are you okay?”

“Dandy.”

He peers into the backseat. “Uh, going somewhere?”

Butters sniffs. “Not anymore.”

Kenny scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I honestly don’t know how to fix something like this. If it were a tire change, that’d be different, but...”

Butters can’t lift his gaze from the ground. “I just need a ride back home.”

Home. The thought hits him in the gut with cold nausea. He can feel Kenny looking at him, unyielding to the cold, his hands in his pockets and the wind picking up through his sleep-mussed hair. 

“I’ll take you,” Kenny says, nodding towards his truck. “Hop in. We’ll call a tow-truck in the morning. Anything in the back that you need out?”

Bewildered, Butters stares at him, his answer delayed. “Uh, yeah...”

They transfer some of his more valuable possessions into Kenny’s car. Kenny suggests bringing the food as well, and then the blankets because it’s so cold, and then eventually they’re unpacking the entirety of Butters’ supplies under the tarp of the bed of Kenny’s truck and driving it all back the way he had left. He’s completely silent as he sits in the passenger’s seat, and Kenny offers nothing to fill it, focused on the road with one hand on the wheel and the other propping his head up against the window. The windshield wipers sweep dreamily in front of them, swiping snow out of the way as it piles up.

They pass the park, and then the old elementary school, but Kenny keeps going, missing the turn to Butters’ house. Butters sits up.

“What? But my house is–”

“You think I’m taking you back there? Really?” Kenny doesn’t look away from the road. Butters admires his stern, unrelenting profile.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he says, his voice small.

“My place.”

Butters mouth hangs open. Kenny’s apartment. It became a sort of legend ever since the rumor started going around that Kenny had his own place, which was just his older brother’s apartment, to party and hang out. Then, when he was around 17, he made plans to move in, but no one believed that he’d go through with it until the day he turned 18 and sister was completely settled into his old room. He works to help pay rent and utilities, keeping his brother company, while not being too far from Karen. Butters couldn’t be more envious.

They pull into the apartment lot, which is across the street from a Target and Walmart shopping district. This late at night (or early in the morning) the rows and rows of windows and doors give off a threatening eeriness that Butters would never want to intrude upon if Kenny weren’t with him. But they are nice; he’d give anything to live alone in a place like this.

“It’s really nice,” Butters says, stepping out of the car and following Kenny up a short flight of stairs. Kenny’s keys jangle as he shakes the chains.

“I got lucky.” They climb the stairs to the second floor and then step into a hallway for a bit before stopping halfway through; the number on the top says 23. “It’s a really good gig.”

“Will your brother be mad that you’re coming back this late...er, early?”

“Kevin? Nah. He’s a heavy sleeper. Though he might be surprised to see that I brought you home.”

“Huh?” Butters’ anxiety spikes. “Why? I’m not intruding am I?”

“No, that’s...that’s not what I meant.”

Kenny is illuminated by a single hallway light that flickers feebly as he jams the key into the lock. He never finishes his thought, and Butters is too nervous to ask him to, especially since Kenny’s gone a little pink in the cheeks and he might not want to. Butters would never push anyone to do anything they weren’t comfy with, especially someone whose opinion he holds so highly. Kenny opens the door, and Butters follows the way in.

The kitchen light was left on. Kenny doesn’t say anything, heading straight around the corner to what Butters assumes is his bedroom. Butters takes a quick glance around; there’s leftovers sitting on the counter, a few dirty plates and an opened bottle of vodka, but otherwise, it’s pretty tidy.

“Kenny?” he calls out, afraid to step anywhere out of his welcome.

“Come on in,” he says, and Butters heads through the hall to Kenny’s room.

Everything is completely clean. Butters isn’t sure what he expected, but having seen his room at his parent’s house he might’ve anticipated some games lying around, dirty clothes out of the hamper, something, but every sock has its pair and every drawer is closed and dusted. The layout of the furniture is a little unusual, just because there is none; what could be the nightstand is pushed into a corner far from the bed, and the bed itself has no frame or base but sits plush on the floor with all of Kenny’s sheets. It’s completely bare, except for a couple of sexy posters, the least surprising feature of the room.

“U-Um,” he says, holding his hands close to his chest. He brought a bag with his pillow and some sleeping supplies, but he’s not sure what to do with them. The bed looks too small for them both, and Butters distinctly noticed that there was no sofa or futon in the sitting room.

Kenny sheds his parka and collapses onto the mattress, pulling the sheets over himself. “You can sleep here with me. It’s a tight fit but I don’t mind.”

Butters does. He minds very much. “I-I think I’ll sleep out in the living room, it’s carpeted and I have some blankets–”

“There’s no heater out there. You’ll freeze.” Kenny’s eyes are closed and he faces the wall. “I’m too tired to argue about this. You’ve been shivering ever since I picked you up. If you don’t stay warm, you’ll get sick for sure.”

Butters lower lip trembles. It’s scary. Sleeping means dreaming and dreaming is scary. But...he’s tired of being cold. The bed looks so soft, so safe, especially with Kenny in it, a cozy body completely at ease in Butters’ presence. With some dread he sets down his bag and sheds his outer layers and boots, immediately seized by the chill and dropping down to the bed. He hurries to get under the blankets and gives Kenny a wide berth of space, so far on the end of the mattress that he could roll off simply by shifting his leg.

It’s still cold.

The blinds don’t block all the light that comes in from outside. Occasionally a car will pass, shadows sliding across the walls and then fading out. Butters hears Kenny breathing deeply beside him, feels the heat of his back seeping into his own. He’s squeezing his eyes tightly shut, hoping that the harder he presses the faster he’ll fall asleep.

Soon, he hears voices.

Far off ones, like he’s hearing them from another room or downstairs. Their whispers scrape against his eardrums, a sinister, incessant pressure that simmers under the surface of his anxiety. Their volume grows, from an urgent, compressed undertone to a shrill scream that booms through the house. Butters buries himself under his pillow, hoping the sound will be muffled or go away, but it only gets louder. He can hear every word clearly.

They’re wrong, he tries to tell himself over the voices. He’s not worthless. His mom isn’t a whore. His dad doesn’t wish he had a different son, doesn’t wish that he had a different family, doesn’t think that Butters will never contribute anything meaningful to society and will always be an embarrassment–

The door slams open and Butters jumps, wide awake. He listens hard for several minutes, until he realizes that he’s not in his home, and the door to his bedroom didn’t really open. 

“You’re a piece of shit. Fucking useless sack of shit. You and your mother.”

Butters can’t repress a small whimper. He cowers under the sheets, rubbing his hands hard over his cheeks to try and hold back the hot wetness that trickles down them, but it won’t stop. If it were just a dream, maybe the voices would fade more quickly, but the memory of his dad’s spiteful tone won’t leave his head, ringing like a terrible alarm.

“Butters?”

Lord, it keeps getting worse. This is exactly why he wanted to sleep in the living room.

“Sorry, just...had a bad dream.”

The sheets shift around him as Kenny turns. Butters feels his warmth, less than an inch from touching him, but Kenny keeps his distance. “What about?”

“I...” He sniffs, immediately wincing at his own inability to control himself. He’s such a wuss. “I just...I just wanna sleep. But I can’t. It’s cold, and I...keep having nightmares...”

A hand comes down on his forearm. Butters jolts, his sniveling stopping short with his breath.

“You were running away, weren’t you?”

Butters stares at the far wall. It’s too early for the sun to start rising but he knows it will soon. He starts to shiver.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s cool.” Kenny yawns, and Butters feels a puff of it near his ear. They’re so close. “But I’m here if you want to.”

He doesn’t have it in him to respond. Kenny’s hand is heavy on his shoulder, and he knows if he doesn’t address it Kenny never will, so Butters gathers all the courage in him that he has and slips his hand over it.

“Kenny?”

“Yeah?”

Tears fall freely down his cheeks. “Can I stay here for a couple days?”

When Kenny doesn’t answer immediately, Butters takes his other hand and slips it over his mouth to muffle the noises. It’s just sad. He wants to hide, bury himself under the blankets, under snow, suffocating beneath bitter-cold sheets of it until he’s left to crawl out of the pile by himself and walk home wet and shivering only to get sick and yelled at by his parents.

He hates this town and everyone in it. He hates the cold, permanently embedded into his bones, inside his chest, his gelid blood. He hates everything, except for Kenny, who has started to scoot closer, is slipping his hand from Butters’ shoulder to wrap around his waist and pull him against his chest. Kenny’s warmth encases him, melts the snow into the water that gathers on Butters’ pillow.

“You’ve always been such a crybaby,” Kenny murmurs into the tangle of Butters’ hair, “because you hold shit in like this.” He sighs; he could be falling asleep again. Butters focuses on the heart beating slow against his back. “Stay however long you want. I like having you around.”

“You...” Kenny’s words float around in his head, dimming the others. “You do?”

“Mhm.” Involuntarily, maybe, or maybe on purpose, Kenny pulls Butters closer. “You smell like apple juice.”

Butters is too stunned to think of a reply, but when he does, soft breaths tickle down his neck. Kenny’s fallen asleep. Butters smiles to himself.

He’ll tell him what happened in the morning. For now, he indulges in the touch that Kenny has given him, snuggling into his welcome heat.

It’s a lovely moment, or several hours, of peace, until the door to Kenny’s bedroom opens and Kevin finds them wrapped around each other like pieces of tangled string and snoring soundly.

Except Butters had no idea. Kenny tells him about it later, after everything has settled and they’re sitting comfortably in the living area watching cartoons while the storm blankets South Park.

Kenny had looked at his brother, and Kevin looked back, saying nothing. And then he left them to continue sleeping.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Kenny says over a bowl of cereal. “You definitely needed the sleep.”

“Thank you, Kenny.” Butters smiles, filled with his own warmth. “For everything.”

[sea-and-storm]

NIGHTMARE ;  drabble

It started with a flash of lightning so bright that it was blinding, painting the entire world a featureless white in an instant. It was gone as quick as it came and color flooded back into the world, and only then did Ghoa realize exactly where she was standing.

Deep, dark blue waters stretched for malms unending toward the horizon. Waves crashed against a dark cliff face jutting out into the sea, sending plumes of gray-white foam high into the air. Soft, wet sand rested below her feet, turning to rocky pebble further upshore and finally to a lush, verdant green that carpeted the entirety of the fertile inner coastlands. A beach from her memory;  not from her travels, but of home.

Except she didn't see it, not truly. A sense of recognition sparked familiarity, and memory had painted the picture from there. Only now, the usually serene beach from her mind's eye was being battered by heavy sheets of rain and roaring gales. Damp strands of her hair to whipped angrily about her, stinging her wind-reddened cheeks where they struck. Above her, a bright blue sky had given way to a ceiling of dark, angry clouds. Each time lightning arced across the sky, a peal of thunder like the roar of some ferocious beast rolled out over the waves.

Ghoa had never been afraid of any storm before, not even when she had been but a child. If anything, they had always brought about a deep sense of wonder and excitement and a sort of comforting familiarity within her. But now, as she watched the weather rage around her, apprehension and uncertainty began to twist her stomach into uneasy knots. Something was wrong.

Another bolt struck close by, bathing the beach in light, leaving the air almost crackling with static and smelling faintly of sweet ozone. Right on its heels came a clap of thunder so loud that she couldn't help but to flinch and recoil, hands rising to her horns.

Yet this time when her eyes opened and her hands dropped back to her sides, she was no longer standing there alone.

A handful of paces further upshore, a trio of Xaela stood. The rains made it near impossible to discern fine detail from her distance, but Ghoa could tell from their garments and their weapons that they were hunters. Her feet suddenly began to move forward in slow and careful steps, drawn in by some inexplicable compulsion. The closer she drew, still no flash of recognition came to her. Their faces, after all, were utterly bereft of features. Only an eerily smooth expanse of skin and scale covered where eyes, nose, mouth should have been.

However, there was something that she recognized now that she was close enough to see more clearly. Their leathers and their weapons bore the color and sigil of the Kharlu.

A cold, fearful shudder ran down her spine at the realization. Even though the only discernible movement she could see from them was the steady rise and fall of their chests with breath, even if none made any move towards her, her instinct still told her to flee. Despite it, her legs remained stubbornly still, as if frozen in place. She stared up at them in silence with wide, petrified eyes and they stared sightlessly and impassively back down at her.

Once more the lightning lit the sky and the world around them. Only now, the faceless hunters weren't looking to her. No, their heads were tilted downwards to something on the ground between them. Her own gaze slowly shifted downwards to follow.

Even before Ghoa could fully take in the sight, a part of her knew between the cloyingly thick and coppery scent of blood filling her nose and a touch of intuition aside. A gut feeling so full of dread that it couldn't be anything else. But when her mind finally managed to process it, her legs collapsed beneath her.

"No, no, no.."

Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, and she could couldn't even hear it in her own ears above the swiftly intensifying gales around her. A smattering of arrows had embedded deep into his back, causing the sand below him to pool and run in a sickening, dark crimson. Her shaking hands reached out to him, and an anguished cry left her lips the moment her fingers touched his deathly cold flesh. Too late, a distant voice called from the recesses of her mind. Gone. He's gone.

A wailing sob rose from between her lips as she fell forward, hands grasping at Lehko'a's body as she pressed her forehead against the scarred, and now bloodied, flesh of his back. Her whole body shook with the tears that flooded her eyes and the breathless aching in her lungs. The rain fell harder still and with it came an unnatural chill.

"Look at what you've done."

The voice was close and clear as crystal despite the rain and wind, as if had been murmured right against her horn in an empty room. Ghoa's attention snapped upwards at the unexpected, jarring words. Her tear-streaked face turned in the direction it had come from -- or what she had thought was its point of origin. Yet all that was present behind her were more sand and the sea beyond and the raging storm clouds blacking out the sky. Perplexed, distraught, she turned to look the other way. Still, nothing.

"Look at what you've done."

The voice was even louder this time, more insistently, and this time brought with it vague recognition. A woman's voice, familiar to her and yet.. It was right there at the tip of her tongue, but still, Ghoa could no sooner place whom it belonged to than she could find where it was coming from. All the same, the demand in that voice had her head snapping forward again in its apparent direction, her eyes falling back down to Lehko'a's prone body.

"Look at what you've done," the voice repeated, calmer this time. As it continued, it made no effort to hide the naked contempt in its words. "Poor, unfortunate soul. Did he even realize that he was just another expendable piece in these deadly games you are so terribly fond of playing?"

"No," Ghoa gasped, finally finding her voice again in protest. "No, it wasn't like that at all!" She didn't look up to try to find the voice this time, instead focusing her gaze on the Keeper in front of her. Her voice cracked with her next words. "I.. I love him. It wasn't any sort of sick game. It wasn't anything like that.."

Laughter bubbled up from the ethereal voice, cold and humorless and harsh enough to make the Xaela flinch.

"Are you so sure, Ghoa?" the voice insisted once the laughter died, a sharp edge to its tone. "You play this game so often.. Whispering sweet words into their ears, making them believe that you care, until they're so tightly wrapped around your finger that they would do anything for you. Until they so adore and cherish you that they would give their life for yours."

"No, it's not--"

"Or perhaps you've just grown so skilled in playing that you've even got yourself fooled? What a sick irony." A pause, and bitterness flooded the words that followed. "Did you convince yourself of the same when it was me whose body you were crouched over, I wonder?"

Another blinding flash robbed the world of form and detail for but an instant, and when it returned to focus, the body in front of Ghoa lingered. Only.. it was different. Mousy brown hair was replaced with shortly shorn locks of midnight. One furred ear and its mangled counterpart been swapped for two small, rounded hyuran ears instead. The broad figure of the man had given way to the smaller body of a lithe woman. This person was no longer Lehko'a, but another entirely whose appearance caused Ghoa's breath to immediately hitch in her throat.

Ino looked exactly how she remembered her. Not from the good times that they had shared, full of life and laughter and excitement and love. All of those memories had become overshadowed by the very last:  the sight of her collapsing into a bleeding heap on the roadside as she had tried to get her back to the safety of Kugane. Her skin no longer warm porcelain, but ghastly pale and icy to the touch. The wit and mischief gone from her dark, dull eyes. Eyes that now stared, cold and lifeless, back at her.

"Look at what you did to me," the voice -- Ino's voice -- continued, thick with accusation. "Another pawn laying down its life to keep its beloved, crafty Queen safe. You let me die for you, to save you from the consequences of playing more foolish games with Hisanobu, and then you left me there alone."

"I didn't want to leave you!" Ghoa sobbed in answer, more sorrow and regret in her voice than her usual stubbornness. "I wanted to stay, but you told me to go! You told me to run!"

"And you believed me?" Ino's voice hissed sharply. "You honestly thought that I wanted to die there, cold and alone?" She clucked her tongue chidingly. "No... No. You're too smart for that, Ghoa. You knew I was afraid, but you abandoned me anyway. Because you don't care. No one has ever been more important to you than you. No one ever will be."

No answer or protest came this time. She only straightened from her place slumped over the other woman in anguish, hands rising to press against her face, to hold in the cries that bubbled up from the very pits of her despair at the dead woman's torturous accusations. She couldn't even defend herself. Maybe Ino was right after all. Maybe she really was just that good at what she did, manipulating even herself into thinking she cared more than she truly did.

"I'm dead because of you, and now so is Lehko'a," she pressed on, unrelenting. "So, tell me.. Who now, Ghoa? Who will be next?"

The lightning returned, and once more the figure in front of her changed. Ino had disappeared and in her place laid another. A tall Xaela man with long black hair, his hands only barely wrapped around the haft of an axe. Another flash, and the body changed again. Still Xaela but far smaller, a woman whose normally warm and cheerful golden eyes had turned dreadfully flat and hazy in the cold clutches of death.

"You convince us that you care for us, that you love us.. Do you even know what love and caring truly are? What they mean? How could you?"

The next arc of lightning came quicker on the heels of the last, and the clash of thunder accompanying it grew louder, more fierce in kind. Now the body belonged to a hyuran man with his bloodied sword knocked out of his stiff, reaching fingers. Another flash of white, and now wild, wet red hair was plastered to the freckled face of a hyuran woman, eyes fixed on Ghoa with a disapproving glare even in death.

"You'll never stop playing your cruel little game, will you? Why would you when it's not your own life you're wagering? You've nothing to lose, unlike us," Ino spat. "Where does it end, Ghoa? Or will it ever..?"

Once more the lightning came and went, and this time bodies scattered the beach around her as far as the eye could see in either direction. So many dead, so many lives cut woefully short because of her, that Ghoa couldn't even hope to count them all. Her head rolled back, her hands rising to press the heels of her palms against her eyes to block the sight. But even in the darkness, she could still see it clearly in her mind's eye, an inescapable sight that pulled a maddening scream from her.

"Look at what you've done, little bird," that voice called to her again, heavy with pain and sorrow and disgust. But it wasn't Ino's voice now. In the blink of an eye that it took her to pull her hands from her face and look back down, all the bodies had disappeared again, save for the very first. Lehko'a's mismatched eyes stared up, empty and unfocused, at her.

"I'm sorry," she answered in a choked whisper. "I didn't.. I didn't mean for this.."

"Monster," the voice snarled. "No better than him..."

"No better than.. who..?" she whispered.

The voice didn't answer. Confused, Ghoa's gaze rose, back up to the faceless hunters. Their attention had once more shifted, and now they stared forward at something past her. Slowly, she turned to see what it was.

No sooner did her turn complete than did a large, strong hand snap outwards like a viper strike to close tightly around her neck. Her eyes grew wide as her husband glared down at her.

"Monster," Bayanbataar repeated in a cold, hateful sneer, his grip around her neck tightening. "We deserve one another."

[1800areyouslapping]

I decided to muse about this instead because I had far too much to say for HC format. Just consider it one long, long HC.

Wow, poor Sister :( I mean, poor everybody but, wow. The main reason, (and obvious one, really) I could see all three of them separating, is due to Hanzo trying to kill Genji. So at that point, she would have lost her dad. Believes one brother is dead, murdered by Hanzo; a brother she’s admired and looked up to her whole life. And then that same brother would leave her behind. I really don’t see Hanzo taking her with him, not with his headspace at the time. 

So she gets abandoned by the last family she had left? Yeah, I’d say they last saw eachother on a bad note.

Sister!Reader even tried so hard to change Hanzo’s mind, but he was so beyond any reason. She tried to get to Genji to warn him but she failed. There was nothing she else could do. When Hanzo left he told himself that his sister would be better off left behind, maybe he really thought so. Unfortunately, Sister wasn’t better off; not at all. The clan leaders would quickly turn on her. So she had to run.

By the time Hanzo comes to his senses somewhat, Sister is more off the grid than he is. He can’t find her. Every year he honors Genji and every year he tries to find his little Sister, but to no avail. When a decade starts to roll around, just a year shy of it; Hanzo starts to think that perhaps he should be honoring his Sister’s memory as well. Until one day Hanzo is holed up in the corner of a bar one day trying to figure out his next move, that is. 

The bar owner has this terribly loud, live concert on the screens, 

“A special, one-time, live airing!!! So staayyyy tuned!” It’s obnoxious. The melodies and instrumentals are not something he enjoys. But then the singer talks, after so much singing, and a red alert sounds off in Hanzo’s mind. It’s been nearly ten years but he still knows that voice. Or maybe he’s being too hopeful. Maybe he’s losing his mind, but the singer... sounds like you. 

He watches the concert for long enough to actually learn the singer's stage name and the next tour date. The gut feeling Hanzo has is so strong and persistent, that he’ll be there at the next date to listen to the singer live and in person. Listening to her second-hand isn't good enough. He has many doubts as he’s traveling to where the singer is. She certainly doesn’t look anything like you. With the big overdone wigs, and the bright... are those purple eyes? Half of her face covered by some mock, costume ninja mask. 

The next time the singer performs he sneaks in. Holes himself up in the rafters. Just waiting for her to say something. Biting back a headache from all of the noise, and the thousands upon thousands of screaming fans. Then something even more grounding than just talking happens. A fan in the audience is holding something that is hilarious to the singer. It makes her laugh.... you laugh. Then there is no denying that it is you. You’re the singer commanding and entertaining a stadium full of twenty thousand people. 

Hanzo didn’t know what the hell to do. Eventually, he’d want to try and reunite with you; at least that’s what he thinks at first. In the meantime, he’ll do some research. Looks you up and finds that you’ve been hiding in plain sight this whole time. You walked into an audition for a girl band, “famously unprepared for it”, but nailed the audition anyway. You’ve refused to do interviews for the entirety of your career. Have never appeared without the costume ninja mask, it’s your stick. Never, not wearing an obnoxious wig, and obnoxious contacts. Your stage name and your “real name” are both ridiculous. 

You separated from the girl band five years after you joined, and started your own solo career. Now have a very loyal following, every concert always sells out. There are several infamous pictures of you traveling with a gaggle of serious, intimidating bodyguards. Security at your concerts is extremely tight. Hanzo scoffs because he snuck in just fine. 

Hanzo would end up making the decision not to insert himself back into her life. At least not until Genji comes back into his own. She’s made a name for herself. She’s relatively safe. Most importantly she’s alive, and he can easily keep an eye on her whereabouts. She probably hates him anyway, and honestly, he’s right. Sister never got the help and guidance that Genji received. 

She’s been dealing with the fact that Hanzo killed her brother and left her behind for the wolfs to pick her off, for almost ten years on her own? Yeah, Sister’s got a major chip on her shoulder, and rightfully so.

Genji’s known about Sister!Reader’s career for years. Has been following her career nearly from the very beginning. Was a big part in pushing through the papers that gave her a new identity (so she could travel, and lie effectively). The request came though Blackwatch carrying a hefty price tag. The commanders nearly denied helping Sister’s agency, but changed their mind when Genji agreed to help take down the empire. 

Genji had also known about Hanzo’s yearly habit of visiting the Castle to honor his memory for a long time. He just wanted to make sure that he ready to take charge of pulling his family back together before going and confronting either sibling. Wanted to make sure he had the confidence and the mental clarity before diving into something that would end up being so emotionally and mentally taxing. So the dragon’s short happens, we all know how that went. Genji will give Hanzo some time, and decide to try again after the recall takes place. 

Genji decides that maybe the second time around he shouldn't be such a drama queen about it lmao. And by the time the second try rolls around Hanzo has had some time to process and think about it. Therefore being in a better, calmer mental space. Not necessarily all the open, but it’s a start. The second time around they would meet eachother in a much less stressful situation and actually manage to have a decent conversation. A little curt, still very rough. Hanzo still isn’t convinced about the recall, Genji, or going with him to meet their Sister. 

If Hanzo will agree to keep having small meetings with him, Genji promises to work on bringing little Sister around (He was gonna do it anyway but psh, he’s gotta have some leverage). Genji has already been to plenty of Sister’s concerts. Is a genuine fan of her music. It was a major source of comfort for him while he was recovering, physically and mentally. 

Genji decides to buy a meet and greet ticket and just wing it. He doesn’t want to show up in your bedroom, crawling through your hotel window. You have a gaggle of bodyguards for a reason, you’re paranoid about the clan figuring you out. Just showing up would only scare you. It’d just be another dragon’s short.

So if he meets you in your own element, surrounded by your guards maybe it’ll go over better? And Genji showing up looking the way he does wouldn't faze a soul at her concert. Fans would just think its a costume, people dress up like that at her concerts all the time. It’s not big deal. 

Sister knows how to make her fans feel special. She only allows five meet and greets per show. And that’s because she wants to ensure every fan gets personal time and attention from her. So when it’s Genji’s turn, (he was last in line and for good reason) he walks into the room and she’s there, ready to greet her fan with a hug, before they sit down and she offers him the floor. She’s used to fans having a lot to say to her. So she finds it important to let them they say what they have to say. 

“Would you mind, if I took this off?” Genji asks while pointing to his helm. 

“Of course not, whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

Genji swears he’s starting to shake. Sitting this close to you he can see all the subtle familiar bone structure of your face hidden away under the mask and makeup. He never had serious doubts over the years, but sometimes a creeping suspicion that maybe the famous singer isn’t you would keep in. But being here he can see it’s definitely you. There is absolutely no doubting it. 

So he very carefully takes off his helm. The visor and the part covering his hair. Watching your every move, waiting to see any apprehension. When the helm hits the table, tears are rolling down your face. You demand that the guards leave. They protest of course, as they should. But you snap at them anyway. “I said leave!”  

You tear the mask and the wig off, without being in the safety of a dark secluded room for the first time in almost ten years. “Genji?!” 

Reuniting with you wasn’t exactly smooth from there, but it was still not dragon’s short level of freak out. It’s a lot of tears, a lot of doubt. A lot of reassurance from Genji. And a whole hell of a lot of anger when he finally finds a moment to bring Hanzo up to you. You don’t understand how he can be so fucking calm and resolute about it. He assures you it took him years and a whole lot of help to get to where he is. So it’s completely understandable that you’re angry. 

Genji, in conclusion, is the real MVP here. He’ll get Sister and Hanzo to come around to healing. Hanzo would eventually join Overwatch (but only temporarily IMO), Sis would remain in her stellar pop career. They’d have Zen around to mediate and work on getting the siblings back to a good place with eachother. It would be a fuck ton of work. And probably a few close calls for Hanzo. But they’ll get there.  

[lubdubsworld]

Make it hurt ( Then Kiss it better) (Yoongi a/b/o)

Chapter 2

I spent the weekend locked up inside my room. Jieun had gone home to visit her parents , so I could just lay off the suppressants, lock the door and spray scent markers all over the place before vegetating in my bed . I worked on my Biology paper , finished seven Chemistry experiments and equations and also finished a paper that wasn’t due for another month. 

It worked, in a way. I didn’t think about Min Yoongi more than half a dozen times and I only snapped the pencil in my hand twice. 

That Stupidly handsome, infuriatingly hot , and unfairly  polite Alpha jerk. 

Why couldn’t he just be a monster so I could hate him in peace without feeling  guilty  over how I‘d  treated him? 

But by Sunday afternoon , my guilt had intensified into genuine remorse and I decided that it was only fair that I apologize to him and properly thank him for what he’d done. 

And yet it took me three hours to actually bring myself to get dressed, slipping on a nice huge hoodie ( it was Seokjin’s) , a long skirt and my favorite sneakers. i looked like a beggar , i knew but I was comfy. 

A few subtle enquiries told me that Yoongi and his friends were in the huge grounds near the basketball court, probably smoking and having fun the way they usually did. Most of them were Alphas , so I grabbed my bottle of suppressants and chucked in four pills just to be on the safer side , before trudging out of my dorm and into the night. 

But when I reached there, i found that half the school was gathered around them. i elbowed my way to the front.

“Get up.” Kim Namjoon, another Senior growled , eyes blazing with fury as he stared down at the boy on the floor. He looked like he was about to kill him, and the amount of fury on his handsome face made me balk.

I hesitated, burrowing deeper in my hoodie as I stood in the second row of spectators , watching the brutality unfold in front of us. It was oddly disturbing, how absolutely ravenous the crowd looked for the bloody entertainment. They were all high schoolers but there was something very ancient in their gaze. A sort of bloodlust? Or the need to see someone suffer. For what, really?

They studied in the best school in the country : reserved for the richest elite. All of them wore the best clothes, carried the most expensive phones and drove the most fashionable cars. One would think, their thrill-seeking minds wouldn’t resort to watching innocent boys getting beaten into a pulp.

But one would be wrong.

Anytime one of  the three hotshots  decided to pick on a poor unfortunate kid, the students gathered at once. They cheered on the violent beatings and hooted in delirious frenzy.

Next toNamjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok stood with arms folded, Hoseok looking angry and Yoongi, unreadable as always. 

I swallowed nervously as I watched the three boys, standing over their cowering classmate. And honestly, I wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t let my mouth and temper run away with me! 

Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.

“She told you she wasn’t interested!! So you molest her?!!! Are you fucking kidding me? ”  Kim Namjoon hissed , staring down at the boy with his intent to kill written clearly on his perfect features.

I grimaced as the boy whimpered in genuine fear.

“No…Joon Hyung it’s a misunderstanding, i didn’t…”

Namjoon’s boot connected solidly with the boy’s jaw cutting off his words and leaving a splatter of blood against the pristine white floor . I stared, sickened, before letting out a noise of disgust.

I hadn’t meant for it to be loud. But it was.

Min Yoongi glanced up sharply , eyes landing on me at once. I stumbled back in surprise and quickly burrowed deeper into my hoodie.

He hesitated before dragging his eyes up and down my body, lips curling softly and  I could feel nausea build up at the back of my throat. Why did it have to behim of all the damn people in the entirety of South Korea! Why did it have to be Min fucking Yoongi ?

He looked fit and smug , ash blonde hair falling into his eyes over the fabric of his head band, all angular features and sinful lips. He narrowed his eyes and smirked. And then he was sublty scenting the air and I felt completely creeped out and it stuck me that he likely could smell me. 

How? How could he when no one else could?!! 

Fuck, I was in so much trouble.

 Get out of here. Now is not the time to make apologies. 

I didn’t need to watch more. Pushing my hands further into my pockets, I slowly walked to the water fountain on the way to the dormitories. At times like this, I wished i had a family to run away to. I was a ward of the state, which meant that vacations or working days, weekends or weeknights, rain or shine, I’d be locked here in school. I didn’t mind. The place was sprawling and you could spend days just walking around , without meeting a single soul.

There was an unwritten rule in our chool : don’t ask Don’t tell. Don’t ask who’s sleeping with who . Don’t tell if you hook up with a guy. There were enough crammed places , hidden from view where the girls and guys could do … stuff. The management didn’t really mind : they got their fat paycheck courtesy of these spoiled brats and their trust funds. Why ruin a good thing, huh?

But the problem was, these guys thought every female with two legs and a working vagina was fair game. At first i was flattered that they wanted me. That every guy i met took a double take when he saw my face. 

But then i realized that most of them didn’t stop with the looking. They wanted to touch.  And so , it became a hassle that i couldn’t get rid of no matter what i did.

As I kept walking, I became aware of how dark it was. it was a little past seven now, and the lamps leading to my dorm were always shrouded by the trees. It had rained earlier and the sound of crickets, the stench of rotting vegetation and the dampness in the air made me want to hide.

 Yoongi standing there, looking at me and being able to sense my presence. 

I snorted at the thought of them. Every single one of them were nothing more than a group of glorified sadists. Rich, handsome with more cash than conscience. I didn’t like the fact that i’d registered on yet another bastard’s radar. Sighing, I clenched my fists.

“Wait.”

I froze, my entire body going stiff at the unwelcome voice. it was Kris Wu. Another burly Alpha Senior with more looks than brains. He smelled like rotten fish and i wanted to puke. 

. Oh, God.

“What do you want?” I said without turning around, glancing quickly at the nearest building. at least twenty five yards away. Should i make a run for it?

“You .”

I shut my eyes in disgust. And then jumped when cold fingers circled my wrist, yanking me back till I hit a chest that was built like a wall.

“Let me go, you jerk.” I shoved him, hard.

Kris Wu looked less than apologetic as he grinned at me. Apparently while the others had been busy beating up a that guy, this one had come looking for fresh prey to feed on. He made my skin crawl. He pulled me closer and lightly swept my hair back before gripping my chin between his fingers.

“Not so fast. I asked you to come to my dorm last night. Defying orders now are we?” He glanced down at my lips and I pulled away. 

So he’d been the one to send that message. i got dozens of them. Come to my bed baby… Oppa’ll repay you well and good..

Disgusting creeps…

I clenched my fists and shoved him off. He gripped my wrists easily pinning me in place. Why the fuck were Alphas so tall and strong!! 

“Orders? I’m not your fucking whore. Go find some other slut to get your dick wet, you filthy bastard… ” I snarled, yanking my hand back again .

At least trying to . He did not let go.

“Aren’t you? Rumor has it that you prefer girls… is that it , babe? ” He sneered. I grinned.

“Are you telling me you’ve got a pussy instead of balls?” I shot back and his jaw tightened, eyes narrowing briefly.

“What a smart mouth… I’d love to see it wrapped around my cock. Maybe that will remove all the doubts you have about what’s between my legs.”

“I’ll tell you what should  be between your legs. Your fucking tail that’s what…” I shoved him again, this time putting more weight into it and he stumbled, just enough to let go of my wrists.

I didn’t think twice and ran quickly. But damn his long legs he was quick enough to wrap a hand around my ankle of all things, and i realized he’d straight up dived for me across the gravel path. I lost my footing and crashed down on the hard path, barely saving my face by throwing my palms out in front of me.

As it was the rough cement and gravel tore into my skin easily, ripping my palm and leaving burning bloody streaks of torn flesh. i swore, kicking out angrily while he crawled on top of me, straddling my body and pressing his erection into my stomach.

“I’m going to fuck you, one of these days but I want you to be willing. Why not save us both the trouble and just give in?” He sneered. I pushed my knee up and managed to get him off me.

“Get the fuck out of my face, you bastard…” I said furiously, moving to push past him. i stalk away in disgust. Jesus, i should have just bloody stayed in my room tonight!

I was almost at the entrance to the dorm , when the world exploded around me in sharp searing pain , my back hitting the wall next to the entrance with a smash that made my bones jar. I blinked in confused pain, trying to comprehend just happened.

. He had me pushed against the wall, one knee jammed between my thighs, his fingers buried in the hair at my nape, yanking my head back till i was staring right up at him. I’d never realized how tall he was before.

“You little whore…you think you can talk to me like that ??!! ” He screams into my face and I actually died a little on the inside. It’s never happened to me before, someone screaming into my face, and my mind struggled to comprehend what’s happening and how to make it stop. I struggled to get away from the wall that I’m caged into but he pushes in closer and there’s literally nowhere to move. He’s pressing into me so hard that it hurts.

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think you can get away with this..” I gasp out and he yanks harder on my hair. A second later he was dragging me into the bushes, past the small clump of trees and into a small clearing, my hair still held in his thick fingers, the grip so strong that I’m already crying.

“It makes me sick that you keep rejecting me.  You little bitch , you act all high and mighty, like you own the world, like you’re so much better than us, like I’m not good enough for you…..You should be grateful that a guy like me even looks at you….” He spat out venomously and suddenly it makes sense.

“You’re a fucking coward! Only cowards use their strength against a woman you little- ” I stop when he pulls me back and rams me down into the ground.

“Fucking slut, you think you’re invincible….?? Bitches like you are only fit for one thing…. ” His breath was nauseating, mingled with alcohol and he kissed me sloppily, saliva dribbling down my chin as he all but slobbered over me.

And then he was doing something unbelievable, yanking his tie off from around his neck. It took me all of three seconds to comprehend what he’s doing but its too late.

i fumbled wildly for the  phone in my pocket but he grabbed it at once, throwing it hard into the bushes.

He pulled me up and flipped me around, grabbing both my wrists behind my back and tying my wrists together with his tie. I laughed in hysterical disbelief.

“You’ve been watching too many movies, Kris. Are you even thinking right now? If this gets out…”

“If this gets out, they’ll just say you’re trying to get attention. That Kris oppa would never do something like this. ” He said softly and I actually choked because it’s frighteningly true.

For the first time, genuine fear began to slip in.

“This is a fucking crime, you idiot! ” I said desperately. “ You could fucking go to prison for this!” 

Holy shit, was he that much of an idiot?!!

 I suddenly felt completely uncertain.

 I didn’t know what I would do if he raped me.

 What the hell did women do in these situations? Put up a fight? How..

“Because it’s what you’re good for…” He hissed into my neck, pushing me into the damp cement floor again. “ You should’ve come into my bed when i asked you to.”

I could feel myself go boneless in disbelief. There’s no reasoning with a man whose ego is threatened. I stayed still, heart pounding and then he flipped me around again, staring into my face.

“Tell me you want me, baby girl..” He said softly. Anger and disgust crawled up my spine and i felt physically sick.

I spat in his face.

He slapped me so hard my ears rang. I was stunned and disoriented, burning pain threatening to overwhelm me.

“That’s it you little bitch..Now you’re in for it…” He rasped out .

what happens next was sort of a blur.

He tried hard, really hard to get my legs apart but I didn’t give in, thrashing wildly and finally he grabbed my chin and pulled me close.  His grip on my cheekbones was so hard i knew there were going to be bruises . I expected him to punch me or something but then he was grabbing my hair and yanking me to my knees.

When your knees are weak and the floor’s a sharp jagged cement hell, digging into your already hurt and torn skin, and your hands are restrained, you honestly can’t get yourself to stand up.

Not when there’s a six foot guy gripping your hair and your chin, forcing your mouth open. He let go of my hair to unbuckle his belt and yank it out of the loops.

“Get off her.” A familiar voice said suddenly and Kris groaned, pushing off me roughly. I stumbled  back and tried to put as much space between him and I as possible, my palms burning.

I glanced up to find Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok slowly making their way over, jackets off and over their shoulders , pristine white shirts unbuttoned.

Kris and his crew were usually at loggerheads with these guys and obviously realizing that he was outnumbered, he quickly slinked away into the darkness before the boys reached the pale circle of light on the gravel path. It was almost fully dark now. I stayed kneeling, trying to catch my breath as they came closer.

“What is this?” Namjoon said boredly, eyes barely glancing at me before looking at his friends.

“She’s a junior, I think. Her name’s …. something. I don’t know.” Hoseok said with a little laugh and Yoongi just stood still staring down at me a mildly exasperated look on his face. 

“Who did you go and pick a fight with now? ” He said softly and I swallowed.

“Go to hell…. ” I said softly already wishing for death.

 If Kris was a devil , this guy looked like Lucifer himself. I didn’t want to run. That wouldn’t really end well.

“I’ve heard about her. Pretty face , potty mouth. Looks like dream and acts like a she-devil….. She’s nothing but trouble. ” Hoseok snapped and I took a deep breath.

 i was screwed.

Yoongi chuckled deeply.

“You’re being unfair, Hoseok-ah…i think she has her moments … but mostly i find her pretty … entertaining.” 

Staying perfectly still, i watched him come closer , finally stepping into the bright circle cast by the streetlamp. 

He looked  strapping and breathtakingly beautiful. 

Terrifyingly dangerous as he stared at me, his eyes fixed on my face. Something shifted in his gaze as he glaced down at my hand which i hadn’t even realized had begun shaking.

 He kept coming and i willed myself not to move. I didn’t want to act like he scared me. Which he didn’t . 

. He gently picked my hand up, his touch feather light, before turning my hand over, palm up. He stared at the bloody scratches and lightly traced one particularly deep cut. I shivered as he tugged on the tie around my wrists , loosening the knot and letting me out of the bounds.

My wrists ached as I held them up in front of me, my shoulder stinging from being pushed back for too long.

“Water.” He said calmly. I blinked.

“Excuse me?” I croaked. But then Hoseok pulled out a small water bottle from his backpack and handed it to him. 

Yoongi kept his gaze on my face as he uncapped the bottle before swiftly pouring the water on my palms and rubbing away the blood and gravel, making my hand sting agonizingly. I bit my lips to swallow the pain.

“Are you hurt? Did he touch you ? ” He said casually, continuing to wash my palm very gently… 

I shook my head.

“No, sunbae.”

He smiled.

“i’m going to tear his limbs off anyway.  ” He said casually, dropping my hand and holding his hand up for the next one.

The words terrified me more than anything else. 

I stepped back curling my hands into fists and shaking my head quickly. i stumbled up on shaky legs and moved back, still trembling from the nerves. He smirked and handed me the waterbottle instead.

“Get yourself cleaned up, Min Jung ssi….” He turned around and walked away. Namjoon gave me a curious glance, while  Hoseok stared at the waterbottle rather distastefully. i quickly rushed over and handed it to him and he shook his head.

“Keep it. Yoongi hyung will throw a fit if i take that thing back ” He said sulkily before moving away.

I stared after them for a while, not at all sure what had happened or why.

[sopewriters]

Superbia.

Seven Steps to Hell: The Seventh Step.

Series: Prologue | BamBam | Mark | Jackson | Youngjae | Yugyeom | Jaebum | Conclusion

Genre: Smut, honestly; 7 Cardinal Sins! AU

Word Count: 3.3K

Notes: Kinky shit happening. Slight D/S undertones, kind of dubious consent, erotic asphyxiation, among others. Don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable with anything I’ve just listed. Otherwise, please enjoy^^

Edit: Moodboard below submitted by @saf0607

“It was Pride that changed angels into devils…” 

- St. Augustine 

It’s finally time to face the last one, the darkest and most cynical of the Sins. You aren’t sure how well this will go, since you know that he’s the one who holds the most grievances—that his power stems through the rest of the Seven.

You dare to enter regardless, taking a deep breath as you approach a door that’s carved with runes. The ancient language is littered all over the entrance, incidentally drawn into concentric circles, as a protective measure. The rest of the Sins don’t have protection like this, which is what makes him so much more difficult to absolve.

You lay your palm against the center of the circle, breathing slowly as the symbols glow bright red for mere seconds, before the door swings open.

It’s time.

You walk inside the dimly lit room, projecting a calm that you certainly don’t feel. You know, more than anyone, how important it is that you preserve your image and appearance in front of this particular man, that you need to make sure he doesn’t see any weakness.

“Creator.” His voice, high and fair, cuts through the air, and you don’t let your expression flicker in the slightest as you turn to face him, taking in his regal features with a practiced eye.

He is prostate on the floor, arms twisted back and shackled to the floor in a painful arrangement; despite which he shows no such expression on his impassive face, which is carved to an imperial perfection.

You say nothing, knowing that this needs to be the first move in the game which you’ve stepped into. To acknowledge the man would only serve to tilt the odds in his favor.

If there is anything he would hate, it’d be to not be acknowledged. And that is what you aim to play at. Superbia is the deadliest of the sins, yes, hence why it is essential that you approach him with care and caution.

“What’s the matter?” His voice is dry, rough from a lack of use. He’s been here the longest of all of them, being the first to fall in the mortal realm, so it makes sense, really, that his voice is in a state of disuse.

“Too high and mighty to talk to me, Creator?”

You continue to ignore him, waving your hand so that a chair materializes in the corner—set so that you may observe him, but so he cannot do the same—and pull out an Old text, a story that you’ve particularly favored, about the fate of Civilization.

You can sense his frustration at being ignored so much, and while you would love to speak to him, you know that you can’t take the risk and let the pride run rampant, else the entire cycle could get jeopardized.

You take out the book, flipping to the page designated with a bookmark, mindful of your robes as you slump disinterestedly against the chair.

With each page, the silence grows more unbearable, even more so when you flip each page as obnoxiously as you can, the sound of paper tearing through the air.

“You are, aren’t you?” His voice is spiteful, which is to be expected, but he says after certainly isn’t, “Too good for the rest of us? That’s why you let us go to Earth every time, let us get killed fruitlessly for a crime we’ve never committed.”

You grit your teeth at the words, his voice grating on your nerves as you fight to remain ignorant to him.

“Oh, the High and Mighty Creator, revered by all for being Good and Virtuous, but for one tiny detail that everyone neglects.” His eyes, a deep violet, glint maliciously, “That you’ve condemned seven oh so poor souls to an eternity of misery, caused by your mistakes.”

Your grip grows tighter on the book, almost squeezing it beyond comprehension as he continues to spew unbearable words that dig deep.

“That’s right. It’s all your fault. It’s not ours, yet we’re suffering for it, while you get to prance around punishing us.” He growls out, and you taste a metallic flavor in your mouth—blood, from biting your lip so hard—as he spits out those vengeful words, “You like it, enjoy it, don’t you? You like having us agonize like this!”

“Jinyoung!” You snap out finally, breaking the rules but entirely too irate to care, “Watch what you say—”

“Why, in the name of Azazel, should I?” He yells back, straining uselessly against his bonds, though you can see fury dancing in his cold features, “You’ve suppressed us for so long that I ought to let you know about it!”

“Do you think I honestly do not know?” You demand, rising from your seat, book disappearing as it is dropped, “Do you not think that I recall every second of that dreadful mistake I made, the terrible desire to make the world balanced?”

“It doesn’t matter to me.” His voice is warm enough to freeze the entirety of the room, “Not when you can’t even fix your own mistakes.”

“Lucifer is unyielding.” You say firmly, “There is nothing that I may do about that. So I ask—no, demand—of you to simply keep the hope burning alive in your chest. The younger ones look up to you, Jinyoung, as do the elders, and do not forget that.”

“I don’t care.” Amethyst eyes flash in anger, as he flails some more, “Those idiots are worth nothing to me; they’re only a heavier burden on my shoulders. I only try so hard so that I don’t need to be in the presence of ingrates like them.”

“You don’t mean that.” You reason, even as your vision tints red, “Let go of your pride, for once, Jinyoung, and do what is right.”

“You’re asking me to let go of my pride?” He tilts his head back and laughs bitterly, the sound echoing around the chamber, “I am Pride! There’s nothing to be let go of!”

And herein lies the problem: Jinyoung has always been the most susceptible to his Sin, so is always the most difficult to absolve. You worry that, one day, you might run out of ways to do that but, for now, you must take him to task.

“I don’t want to do this the hard way.” You warn, “I am giving you one last chance to surrender your Sin, Jinyoung.”

It’s a useless sentiment, and you know it, even when he spits furiously at the ground near your feet, thankfully missing your person. Still, the disrespect cannot go unpunished and you sigh, trying to keep your frayed nerves under control.

“Very well.” You acquiesce, walking toward him, “I will do as you wish…though I really wish I didn’t have to.”

With a wave of your hand, the fabric clinging to his body begins to melt off, disappearing into the void. His eyes widen, as he clearly hasn’t expected this, but Jinyoung gives no other outward reaction to your move. You wouldn’t expect any less from him, of course: he is prideful, if nothing else.

“Do you think you’re above me?” You raise an eyebrow as you tower over him, forcing him to look up at you.

“Of course.” He hisses out, “I know I am above you. Just being in your presence alone is bothersome.”

“Is that so….” You drawl out, though a twinge of hurt sounds in your heart, before doing what you’ve never dared to do to Jinyoung before, pushing him down on his back with your foot.

As expected, his reaction is violent, though it does not come to fruition as the chains continue to hold him well.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” He snaps out, eyes blazing as he tries, and fails, to push you away, “Especially not with your feet!”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, “And why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re disgusting.” He spits out the hurtful words, eyes a dark purple, “And clearly not worth an ounce of me.”

“Tell me, Jinyoung.” You change tactics, choosing not to respond to the verbal jibe, “You’ve always liked being on top of things, haven’t you? I wonder how you’ll react now, since what I’m about to do is…well, it’s very unexpected.”

“You’re forgetting something,” He sneers, kitten lips curling in disgust, “I still have eyes, Creator and…you’ve always been easy to read.”

“Is that so?” You hum thoughtfully, before snapping your fingers, resulting in a sharp intake of breath from the male, “How is this, then?”

There’s no answer, though you don’t expect one. Secured around his eyes is a satin cloth. You’ve made it so he cannot see, only hear and feel.

“Fuck. You.” He spits out, and you roll your eyes at how stubborn he is, since you know the job would be much easier if he were a little more cooperative. Well, you might as well have some fun while you do this, right?

“I plan to.” You smirk at his mouth, parted in surprise, as you sink to the ground so that you’re eye level with him, though he doesn’t know that.

You drag your hand gently through his silky black locks, smirking as he shudders with revulsion. You know Jinyoung usually wouldn’t mind, but right now, he’s under the complete influence of Superbia: and there’s no fighting it.

“Something wrong, Jinyoungie?” You question cheekily, smirking when he growls angrily, wrists undoubtedly getting chaffed from all his struggling, “I’d advise you to stop moving so much, so you don’t hurt yourself any more than you already have.”

“Shut up.” He snarls pathetically, mouth set in a frown, “I’ll do what I want!”

“That is adorable,” You confess, making his mouth part in silent surprise, “But, unfortunately, untrue. You see, Jinyoung, you can’t do what you want.”

Your mouth sets into a firm line. “You do what I want.”

“What—” He begins to say, but a flick to his exposed nipple has him shuddering in pleasure, undoubtedly sensitive there.

“What was that?” You ask, hands daring to further tweak the rosy buds, rolling them between your finger. He gasps and arches into your touch, biting his lip to prevent himself from making any more noise than he already has. You can see his face scrunched up in turmoil, and something in you crows with delight, because this is what’s necessary, and he’s falling right into the trap.

“D-Don’t touch me there, you filthy—!” He can’t even stutter out a complete sentence as his body is toyed with relentlessly, and you see that his member is hardening, slowly but surely.

“You’re already aroused for me?” You tease, seeing his cheeks heat in perhaps, anger or embarrassment, “I haven’t even touched you there!”

“N-Ngh, I don’t want your hands on me, you impertinent bitch!” He snaps out, and ouch, that is a painful blow to handle, but you have done it before, with him.

“Too bad,” You let your hands linger, brushing against his angry, leaking cock, “I thought you might have wanted to find your release.”

“Well, I don’t need help,” He hisses, biting his lip, “Especially from the likes of you.”

“Are you sure?” You thumb across his leaking slit, collecting drop of precome even as he groans, “I don’t mind leaving you like this…”

Hands ghosting along his cock, you bite your lip, gauging his reaction; you’re rewarded with a choked moan and wet lips opened wide in slack-jawed pleasure.

“You want me to touch your properly?” You press, applying a slightly firmer touch and rewarded with the bucking of his hips, “Do you, Jinyoung?”

“N-No,” He huffs out, though he cuts himself off with a louder moan at your insistent touches, skin flushing red, “O-Oh God.”

“You and Bammie seem to have similar interests.” You note in fascination, though you give an experimental squeeze, causing his breath to stutter, “So I’ll tell you exactly what I told him: God can’t hear you. Not down here.”

“F-Fuck you!” He glowers at being compared to someone else, someone that Pride deems unworthy of him, “Go to hell!”

“We’re already here.” You smile serenely as you take his cock in your hand, fondling it with hard, measured strokes, “So it’s a bit too late for that, Jinyoungie.”

“D-Don’t t-touch me!” He protests, though it begins to lack conviction, even to his own ears, “I-I h-hate you, damn it!”

“No, you don’t.” You tell him seriously, straddling his hips despite his complaints and, pulling your underwear aside, sink down onto him, “But, after this, you just might.”

A choked moan breaks through the air, as he twitches desperately, cock encased by your tight, inviting heat. Your core throbs with want, lubing his length with its juices in a parody of a caress; the two of you are joined, for a mere moment, before you lift yourself up and slam back down onto him, a mewl ripping from your throat.

“S-So tight!” His lips glisten as he cries brokenly into the dim light, and you don’t think much as you lean forward, planting yours against his. To his credit, he doesn’t reject you immediately, allowing you to coax his mouth into submission, letting you taste him and hesitantly doing the same back.

“D-Does it feel good?” You pant in exertion, rolling your hips against him in chase of that spike of pleasure, “Tell m-me, Jinyoung.”

“I-It does,” He whimpers, kitten lips still parted obediently from after you’ve leaned back, “P-Please!”

“What happened to your pride?” You challenge, breath stuttering when you angle your hips just right, and yes, it feels so good, “I-I thought you…you didn’t want me to fuck you?”

“I…” You can’t see his eyes, so you wave your hand, removing the blindfold, and are rewarded with the sight of his eyes flickering rapidly between purple and their normal, genteel brown, “D-Don’t…know…”

“Admit that you like it.” You tighten his bonds slightly, making his eyes widen and they look pretty like that, flitting rapidly, “You like being tied down, don’t you? Like it when you have no power, when you’re forced to lie on the ground that you say is beneath you?”

“Shut up!” His cheeks flush a pretty pink as he eyes you angrily, though it doesn’t hold much of an effect as you continue to gyrate against him, pleasure beginning to peak like you’ve been aching for, “N-No…”

“D-Deny all you want.” You tell him, thrusts getting sloppier the closer you make it to the towering white, waiting for the lust to bleed from your body, “But the truth always holds!”

Your vision begins to spin as your legs twitch, orgasm ricocheting in you as you throw your head back in bliss, still doing your best to continue your lewd movements, pulling tiny whimpers of pleasure from him, even as your eyes begin to readjust to the dim lighting.

“You want to come, don’t you?” You slip off him, smirking tiredly at his whine of loss, “Admit it.”

“I…I do.” He acquiesces, though his expression shutters, “I don’t need you to do it though.”

“You don’t?” You frown in mock disappointment, hand sliding smoothly up and down his shaft, your juices functioning as lube, “I think I know what you need.”

A low curl of excitement festers in your stomach as you straddle him, a move he clearly doesn’t expect going by his low moan. Amethyst eyes snap open in shock when he realizes that he can’t breathe, eyes watering as they meet yours, before landing on your delicate hands wrapped firmly around his throat.

“You like this?” You smile in amusement as you quickly release your hold, watching as he sputters for breath, hips rolling smoothly against his cock, so close, but never letting yourself sink onto his throbbing cock, “Like being this helpless?”

“No.” He insists, though his cheeks flush red, “It might be your interest, but not m-mine—”

He’s cut off when you press your hands back onto his throat, making his eyes flutter shut, dick twitching actively in interest, mouth parted lewdly for breath.

“I think I can make you come just like this.” You note in delight as he struggles to catch his breath again, “But, to think that someone so above everyone like you indulges in such…frivolous activities is certainly interesting.”

Knowing Jinyoung can’t possibly answer yet, you roll your eyes, hand coming to stroke him off, to help him reach his release.

“You want to come?” You ask again, for the umpteenth time as his hips follow your hand stutteringly, “Then I want you to beg.”

“Please,” He blurts out, tears dribbling from the corner of his eyes, “Please let me come!”

You only smile at him while furthering your pace, bringing him to the edge of release before you let go, at his disappointed moan, only to close your slick hands around his neck, squeezing lightly once, twice, thrice, before pressing down even harder.

“Look at you,” You drawl as impassively as you can, “Mouth going off about how you’re so above everyone else, yet here you are. You like being humiliated, you like it when you’re entirely helpless, aren’t you?”

His body twitches and his hands jerk furtively against their bonds as his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he cries out, painting his thighs white with his release. You let go of your hold on him only when he wheezes and, though you’ve been careful, you still worry a bit; the concern dissipates when his breathing calms, though his body still shutters through his release.

The chains disappear with a wave of your hand, and Jinyoung wastes no time diving into your arms, head burrowing into the crook of your neck, as he hiccups through his orgasm, tears wetting your collar bone.

“Are you alright?” You ask quietly, knowing Jinyoung’s the one in control again, that Superbia’s been driven out temporarily, and are rewarded with a small nod from the man, “Good.”

You stay like that for a little while, hand still running through his hair, until he’s recovered his wits about him enough to pull away from you and wipe himself clean the best he can.

“Y-You…” He croaks out, wincing at the pressure on his throat, but hurries to explain at your crestfallen expression (you didn’t realize it’ll hurt for him to speak now), “Got a lot more c-creative.”

“Thanks.” You smile softly, clothing him again easily, making him blink in surprise, before smiling fondly.

“S-Sorry for what I-I said.” He apologizes needlessly, because you know it wasn’t him in control, “D-Didn’t mean it.”

“Do not worry about it.” You assure him, helping him get to his feet after materializing your clothes, “I understand. Whenever you’re ready, you can go on ahead for rebirth.”

You motion to the door that appeared right after he was absolved, and he looks at it in understanding.

“Good luck, Jinyoung.” You wish sincerely, arms wrapping around his body in a gentle hug, rewarded with the warmth of his hands in return, “Take care of everyone for me.”

“I w-will.” He smiles sadly at you, eyes crinkling cutely in the corners as he nods, “And th-thank you.”

And, with that, you leave to the main hall, to take your leave from the place that’s tormented you, above all others. When you arrive, you take a deep breath, relaxing your mind, anticipating your warm chambers and comfortable bed, waiting to be whisked home…though nothing happens.

Your eyes fly open at the mad cackle that filters through the air, expression one of alarm.

“Lucifer,” You breathe shakily, as you realize you can’t leave, “What have you done?!”

Written By: Midnight :)

Seven Steps to Hell: The Conclusion.

[roidespd-blog]

Chapter Thirty : MY OWN STORY

This is the end of our journey. I could have ended it with a one-two punch Stonewall-Pride extravaganza but I’m going with a more personal coda, if you’ll indulge me.

A BOY’S OWN STORY

I haven’t always known I was Queer. I guess there were signs — how I would prefer to play with my sister’s barbies than with my own construction toys. How I could be extra sensitive with benign day-to-day details or the fact that by the age of five, I knew “Pour que tu m’aimes encore” by Céline Dion by heart. “So Alex, you’re a faggot, right ?”. That’s what a schoolmate said to me during recess. I said “No”. I was 10. I didn’t know. How did he know if I didn’t know ? Is sensitive a synonym for gay, even when you’re too young to even have pubic hair ?

I started masturbated at the age of 12 and it didn’t took long before my thoughts were directed towards the male body. I ignored it and pretended it was just my mind wandering in unexpected and irrelevant places. I would do my dirty business with La Redoute catalogues, looking at the male models in underwear then switch to their female counterparts at the very end when I knew I was close. Same thing with my imagination. Penelope Cruz was my go-to fantasy beard. I was ashamed of my sexual orientation. Worst, I was ashamed of it before I could understand it. That’s the tricky part : society doesn’t teach you how to be Queer but sure makes you aware that it’s not the norm.

I didn’t know what gay was. In movies, homosexuality was always depicted through huge clichés, what I called in my articles the “Cage aux Folles” dogma. I couldn’t identify. Or maybe I rejected the notion very quickly and swore never to approach this level of absurdity. Internalized homophobia before you even understand what internalized homophobia is.

I fell in love with my first boy when I was 14 years old. He was 2 years older, not that handsome (back then) and so unattainable. I’ve known that dude my whole life. For a long time, I said to myself that one-sided love wasn’t love. I do not believe that anymore. Feeling are valid whether they’re reciprocated or not. Of the five men I fell in love with in my life, only one didn’t love me back (and another is still TBD). But he’s the man I loved the most. The pain that followed was real and undeniable.

I didn’t act on my feelings towards boys until college. In high school, I told myself I wasn’t gonna do anything with anyone until I knew for sure what I was (laugh). I turned down a couple of great girls, one became one of my closest friend in this world. There was one incident involving a girl faking drunkenness in order to inspire pity and having her ways with me at a birthday party. I was… 15, I guess. I was not into it.

A shy boy, I socially bloomed in high school due to my involvement in drama classes and a new “fuck-the-world” attitude I cultivated through a longer hair cut and a collection of converses of every color imaginable.

The day I found out I graduated from high school, I went to town with a few friends. We (barely) drank and had our PG fun. There was this boy. I didn’t know him at all as he was a friend of a friend. I was very intrigued by him and made sure to present to him what I considered my best self (mute and mysterious, I guess). When it was time to go home, we all packed ourselves in my friend’s tiny car. There wasn’t enough space for all of us so the guy was lying on floor in the back, myself in the middle seat. I don’t know what got into me, but I started putting my fingers under his shirt and caressing his lower back. Gently, like an accident. When he didn’t react, I went further. That’s when I felt his fingers on my ankle. As I got to explore more of his back, he quickly went up my pants and caressed the entirety of my leg. So erotic, you have no idea. He was the first to go home. We didn’t exchange phone numbers but he sure helped me get IT. Once alone with my friends in the car, I said “I like boys”. That was it. The electricity I felt all around my body was unchallenging. No one was shocked. No one cared. Back to our regular scheduled programs.

HOW TO BE A GAY MAN IN FOUR LESSONS (OR MORE)

The first and only real mistake was trying to define myself through my sexuality.

My first boyfriend was… let’s call him Paul. Paul was the sweetest. A very short, very elfish (not healthy, ELFISH) little dude that tried his best to give me space in our relationship to explore myself. I said tried. I was willing to lose my virginity as a bottom but it wasn’t meant to be. I became a top. Oh, but it is a nice memory. It is so rare to be a gay man and lose one’s virginity in a good way. He introduced me to his friends who found me “too country” and “fat”. Do we have to talk to each other every day ? Are nicknames necessary ? Do I love you or do I prove constantly that I love you ? Coming from a broken father/son relationship, affection towards men wasn’t easy shit. Lust, yes (though a restrained version of what lust can be). Feelings were there but I found myself incapable of materializing them the way Paul wanted me too. I broke up with him. We got back together. He then broke up with me. Back together again. We called it quits soon after. Too many variables freaked me out. I was an 18 year-old who knew nothing, Jon Snow style.

I met a couple more guys, experimented with casual dating and hookups, bottomed (wasn’t my thing). Then I met Thomas — I’m not even going to invent a name. That bitch needs to be called out. I fell madly in love with Thomas. Five days in and we said “I love you” to each other. That relationship made me come out to my mom. I just didn’t realize that I was being manipulated into loving someone. He made an effort to be extra needy and to push my Superman complex to the max. After falling for him, he told me he visited several psychiatric facilities. He tried to hurt himself more times that I can honestly remember. By the time our relationship ended, I was more a nurse than a lover. I broke up with me after he cheated on me with someone else. But not just cheat. It went from a Friday night “I’m gonna see a friend for the weekend, it’s been a while since I saw him. It’s gonna do me some good” to a Monday morning phone call “Well, he wasn’t a friend. We slept together, now I love you both and I don’t know what to do”. I made it easy for him. By Monday night, pictures of him with the other boy was all over his Facebook page. Thomas broke me in pieces. And I’m not even gonna talk about me going to the police for harassment months later. Triste vie.

That’s when I became a whore.

Not immediately. It took a few weeks of crying to go in that direction but then I was full on. I quickly moved to another city and for the next three years or so, I slept with everything with a dick that moved. Short guys, tall guys, fat ones, skinny ones, effeminate dudes, masculine cunts, three ways, public, top, bottom, ALL. OF. IT. I was unable to feel anything for those guys (some were great and deserved a lot more) but damn, did I fuck them. All of them.

I learned a lot from that time period. First, I can be great at certain sexual things. Won’t tell you which ones. Second, it gave a lot of satisfaction mixed with a sense of true emptiness. I ignored the emptiness back then but I knew why I felt satisfaction. It wasn’t the orgasms. It was a feeling that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do AKA being a gay guy having lots of sex. I saw it on TV. I saw it in porn. I knew it to be true. I was being the right kind of gay. 22 and still stupid enough to believe it.

When I moved to Paris, I fell in love twice. First with the city. Second with Pierre. In a way, he was the best of them all. Unfortunately, we met at the wrong time. Remember, I was a whore. Not that I cheated on him per say, but the need was there. Paris was giving me so much more land to cover. I met friends that partied hard. I started taking drugs. Lots of them. Festivities would last three days in a row. Sometimes four times a week. I lost 25 pounds just by being poor and high. Meanwhile, I was living a fantastic relationship with a somewhat adult man. I moved in with him for a couple of months. He was a painter and being with me helped him find inspirations. He bought me a note book and pushed me to start writing again, encouraged me to reach my full potential. But fuck my life, I had to make a choice : domesticity with this great guy (who had already been through what I was going through) or FPD (Friends/Party/Drugs). I broke his heart and entered a downward spiral. I went back to my whoring ways. I went all races, all ages, all sizes, just… all. I even was in a weird throuple for a few weeks. Drugs were taking a toll on my health and my friends weren’t supporting me the way I needed too. Six months after the break up, I reserved course. I cleaned my act, found a new job, moved into a new apartment by myself, cleared my phone from those friends’ numbers. This part of my life taught me two lessons : That I could be loved and valued for exactly who I was and that I could throw in all away for the sake of living that sweet Parisian Gay Life.

I met Jack at a time when my life was going really really well. I had been accepted at film school, I was making new friends from work, I had a perfectly stable life and newly-found good spirit. I do believe I inadvertently seduced him by singing Taylor Swift’s Blank Space at a party. I fell hard for that man. I viewed him as the perfect specimen, the epicenter of everyone I went through in the past seven years. I willingly gave him everything : a place to stay when he was looking for a new apartment, my time, my heart, my soul. I wasn’t able to keep anything for myself. It was all for him. Although I knew from the start that I was getting fucked, I didn’t care. He never loved me. Why ? That’s for another story and perhaps for him to tell you. He didn’t leave me heartbroken. He left me destroyed. To a point where I didn’t recognize myself. I’ll say it again : D.E.S.T.R.O.Y.E.D. That’s what happens when you give so much and receive so little in return. My friends had to pick up the pieces and didn’t know what to do with them. Neither did I. I went back to whoring for a short time but this time, it got dark, y’all. I fucked the wrong people. I put myself in the wrong situations. I took the wrong drugs. I kept on wrecking what was left of me.

LIFE IMITATES ART, ART IMITATES OTHER ART, ART IS ART, LIFE GOES WITH WITH FLOW.

For the following two years, all of that cured me of love and sex. I didn’t/couldn’t want either. I focused on my work.

I started writing and directing short films that talked about love between two men (a musical fantasy), how one can destroy oneself by not accepting who one is (a one-shot suicidal fantasy) and finally, a 16-minute movie about trying to figure out your place in the Queer world (my masterpiece, easy to say, right?).

In retrospect, what I couldn’t do in real life anymore (exploring and answering questions), I did it in fiction. In Faggot (and Other Semantics),there are themes of homophobia, internalized homophobia, clichés, dating apps, sex, violence and identity. I’m not saying it’s the greatest movie of all time, but it’s good. That’s why it’s so heartbreaking that I still haven’t finished it.

I used the excuse that I didn’t have enough money. Well, no I have some money put aside thanks to my friends. I though to myself that I was just lazy but fuck, I proved to myself this past month I wasn’t. So, I’m scared to finish it. Not just having to move on artistically (though it is a big part of the fear) but also, It’s kind of the end of a journey. Well, a big chapter anyway. The movie was made when I was the most wrecked version of myself. I touched subjects that are so personal to me and felt like I finally got some answers out of my questions. Finally…well, I don’t know. I went back to thinking I’m a lazy cunt.

Since then (two years), I did something every Queer person should do : I’ve explored our History. I started making research for Faggot back in 2016. I bought a couple of books, mainly “Faggots” written by Larry Kramer and “Le Rose et Le Noir” written by Frédéric Martel. The truth is, we don’t know our History. How can we ? History tried to erase us time and time again. And when real tragedy stroke, people who couldn’t have shared this History were let to die. Unlike all of the other communities, Queer people are not born into a Queer environment. Humans from all races and backgrounds are raised and can receive heritage from their peers. Some of that heritage are in books you get to read in school. What History book talks about Stonewall ? None. We, as Queer people, are cursed with the task of reinventing ourselves generation after generation. Is it so surprising then that we keep on losing ourselves along the way, trying to figure out our identity ? I had to go and search for information, nothing was giving to me openly. I’m so glad I did.

Learning our past taught me so much about how to live my present. That’s why I started to write these articles this June. I wanted to give my fellow Queers a metaphorical anchor to throw into this ocean we call Life so that they can take a closer look at the world that came before, the one that is being built right now and perhaps, what’s to come. It’s a small gift. The best I can do with my restricted reach but here we are.

Today, I told you about my own story. I came back to it with all that baggage from years of research into my Queer Heritage. I see things a bit more clearly now. In the hopes that maybe, if you deem it necessary, you will be able to do the same.

I’m signing off. Yours Truly,

The Queer King.

[archaicgeists]

It almost sounds like you're begging us to do our worst...if we were allowed full control, I'd bet we'd be able to torment you endlessly, but there are certain rules that we must abide by. For example, right now you're about to go through some life changing events, and we can't interfere with any of that. However, with what little power we have, and if it's accepted, we can give you a taste of the pain you'll receive soon. M!A: Ghost of the Past. Geist is forced to relive his worst memory.

* Hah..so you do have rules you cannot break then, whatever powers at bay that keep your filthy claws from sinking into me endlessly must have some use after all..

* Whatever change comes I’m sure I can weather it, I have fared worse I’m sure..Even if it what you all keep wailing to me.

[ Unfortunately on several fronts, Geist doesn’t hear the last key words...The anon’s deception with lacing a curse at the last second catches him off guard and thus unable to defend himself from it taking affect..

His eyes go dim until not one speck of light shows, until a grayish white light flickers in it’s place..like the light from a old projector. He crumples to the ground as the memory begins to replay....]

{* some dark themes near the ending kids, just a warning for those uncomfortable with it.}

[ The scene fades in as Gaene walks the dim city streets to home he’s weary of the world and simply wants to get away from everything. The encroaching tensions between mankind and monsters made daily life a walking hell for him honestly. More and more “accidents” were occurring, whole families being dusted and their homes looted..But no witnesses willing to tell the truth.

But everyone knew who was to blame, people taking their anger out on innocents with blood as the end result..It was even dangerous now to be a sympathizer for the poor souls, like Gaene was. No monster lover was safe from a bloody end either..he had seen several people slaughtered in broad daylight and the enforcers would turn a blind eye..It made him hate humanity all the more now. He would be next sooner or later he knew, it was no secret where he lived, on the outskirts of the monster designated half of the city...The city graveyard dividing the two halves as some morbid reminder..

It was where Gaene did his work, and lived after all..Being the local Undertaker and Gravedigger earned you one hell of a reputation..But it was one he wanted, he wanted nothing to do with humans anymore after this mess and kept it that way..It also suited his more....secretive traits. Not one soul in this city knew he was a Mage, not even the monsters. And that was something he’d take to his own grave one day. Night had fallen by the time he reached home, when it all conveniently went to hell...

Gaene knew of the enforced curfew recently placed, it was the one act the bastards in charge did to act like they cared..But instead it simply locked everyone indoors when the more dangerous sort could care less about being found out..The curfew was more strictly enforced for monsters, like every other rule..No one wanted to run afoul of some creepy beast as the gossips murmured. This knowledge flashed briefly in the back of his mind as a bone rattling blast ringed out into the night...

Rushing out into the street he could already smell the smoke before he saw the flames...The entire monster district was glowing red like a ember, he felt his heart stop as it grew and grew into the night air..Not thinking about safety he ran into the inferno..hoping against the odds that there were survivors...Each house he managed to get into held little hope of living occupants..the damage was irreversible and absolute and Gaene could feel his vision blur from the smoke in his eyes and lungs when he hear someone sobbing.

Finding a young monster trapped under fallen wreckage he wasted no time in grabbing them and running back to the safety of his home, it was a start in what was already a horrible situation..Once back behind closed doors Gaene turned to the shaking monster.]

* what happened here? Please tell me there are at least any other survivors out there...

“I...I don’t know..it all happened so fast...I was heading home and then everything erupted into fire..t-they’re all gone..what am I..I’m all alone now...”* Like hell you are..you’ll be safe here..Stay inside and away from the windows until I return. We’ll make it through this..

[ Gaene races back out into the inferno, desperate to find more than one survivor..he knows it’s fruitless, he knows the humans in the city are responsible for everything..it made his blood boil thinking about it..Why crush such innocence when all they ever did was want to help? All they cared for was power, and monsters had it in spades compared to non mage born..

Venting his anger into searching he only stopped when he felt himself wane once more from the smoke and heat..not one other soul could be found..As he returned home full of rage and regret he stopped short of his home..

The front door had been kicked off it’s hinges.

Fearing the worst he raced in, seeing several drunk men standing amidst a fresh mound of dust in the corner, cackling loudly.]

“Sooooo...tha monster lover returns at last.. Sorry bout yer lil pet here, played a bit too rough with em. Ah well, might of had tha plague so guess we didja a favor! BAAHAHAAHAHAA!”

[ As the room erupted into laughter Gaene’s vision turned red...why did it always come down to this? What did they do to deserve death at the hands of these heartless bastards? Actions speak louder than words..and Gaene wanted to scream a library’s worth of rage.

A sword flashed, stolen from one of them as he carved into the first three caught off guard. The remaining two seemed faster once their comrades were soaking his floors with blood. He fought with one while the remaining fool fled to get help and leave his friend to die seconds later.

Sagging to the drenched mess his house had become, he wept softly..He’d be dead soon most likely and this injustice wouldn’t go unmet..He’d be nothing more than a faceless fool in a shallow grave while the world continued it’s purge of innocence..]

* why can’t I do anything to stop this? It’s unfair..why won’t you let me save one..? they didn’t deserve this..

[ Unmet rage and sorrow melded deep inside as Gaene staggered out into the massive graveyard...hundreds of years worth of bodies buried here..did they all hate monsters like their descendants? A trail of blood, either his own now or his victims stained the grass as he sought a hiding place.

Small...little markings of his own kind led the way to the center..He didn’t remember what they meant..it was a symbol he remembered from a dream and liked..Once safe in the center of the graveyard he sunk to his knees, soaking the old stones beneath..]

* they deserve to see such fear..they deserve to feel such pain and loss..and I would gladly show them..

[ Magic...works in fairly odd ways, even more so when emotions and wayward mages are concerned...Gaene had no idea the weight his rage and sorrow gave to his own words until something pulsed..and the grounds around answered with a chorus of breaths and cracking of stone.

Looking up tiredly he watched his magics take hold..and raise the entirety of the graveyard to do his wishes..Many of them dead warriors and defenders of the city..only now they would undo it..In no time at all the graveyard was empty..aside from Gaene who looked on in horror.

That was when the screams began in earnest. The fires in the monster district, hungry for fuel had spread outwards into the neighboring areas..the newly risen undead soon found their kindred and drew blood eagerly from their wailing throats. Alarm and chaos soon reached all ends of the city, hand in murderous hand with the fires as both swept through.

Miraculously...Gaene’s small secluded home was saved this horror..at least on the outside.Running back in to find a way to block the screams out he locked himself away in his room, his own heart pounding like war drums.]

* oh gods what have I done..what have I done?? The city’s dying all around me...I..I didn’t want this..I never meant to..hhh.

[ their blood now soaked his hands, a city was dying all around him faster than any plague or cataclysm could do..now he was no better than them, worse in fact.

Rage turned to Guilt, a well suited companion for Sorrow..both evolving into something much worse the longer he heard the screams ring out into the night air..His sins could not be mended nor forgiven..not for something like him anyways. He could not face what would happen should he be found and blamed for this slaughter..The flames outside alighted in the reflection of something beside him..

there was only one way out..one way to end his misery and escape this horrid worlds grasp...maybe hell would be kinder..or maybe he would simply wander the lands of limbo until he forgot himself..

It hurt, but it would be worth it he figured as he carved a hole open to tear it free..To be free of this hell and live on as a spirit..darkness came and claimed him as he felt himself grow cold.

He didn’t expect to wake up the next morning to deafening silence and something warm in his hands pulsing gently..]

* -ghk....

[ As the memory fades, so does the grey light...Geist has passed out.]

[emilytj8-blog]

Influential films

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

Gummo (1998) directed by Harmony Korine

Easily making it to the top in my selection of favourite films, Gummo is one of the most unique, uncomfortable, yet enchanting films I’ve seen. A series of bleak vignettes, surrounding the story of two young men trying to get by in the dismal, tornado-struck city of Xenia, Ohio, sends us into a world of adolescence, drug abuse, violence, sex and misfortune. Harmony Korine’s use of unusual characters and miserable scenarios makes this film a grim but fascinating gem, which took me multiple viewings to decide what I thought it all meant. I recommend this film to everyone who needs something to watch- but warn them about the scenes of violence, particularly the animal cruelty. (No animals are actually harmed, but for some it’s still hard to watch.) Everyone should watch this film!

The Wicker Man (1973) directed by Robin Hardy

This is another favourite- it’s almost impossible for me to have a single favourite as I love so many films. But this film is one that has had a big influence on me from a younger age. Adapted from David Pinner’s renowned book Ritual, this film is peculiar, sinister and iconic, and features some of my favourite actors of all time: Christopher Lee, Ingrid Pitt and Britt Ekland! This chilling film focuses on themes such as spirituality, rituals and the conflict between differing beliefs. It makes you question conventional values, and empathise with what would otherwise be seen as evil… In 2003 a remake of The Wicker Man was released, featuring Nicolas Cage, however this film had a generally negative response, and I think this is due to the representation of the people of Summerisle. Whilst The Wicker Man gives an insight to the beliefs of the islanders, and helps us understand why they do what they do (no spoilers), the remake unfortunately presents them as evil, malicious people. This spoils the essence of the story; but as an independent film, with no relations to the original Wicker Man, it could pass as a tolerable horror film.

Eraserhead (1993 in the UK, 1977 in USA) directed by David Lynch

Eraserhead had to feature in this list of influential films, because ever since I watched it, memories of it have never failed to make me feel uneasy! The one word I would use to describe this film, is ‘nightmare’. It surprised me when I found out how early it was filmed, but after some thought, I think a lot of weird things happened in the seventies. My mum told me about this film, so I decided to give it a watch, and whilst it was difficult to finish, I think I enjoyed it. What I like about this- and many other of my favourite films- is the fact it had a significant effect on me. Whether I enjoy a film or not, if it leaves me thinking about it for days, even weeks, it’s done its job in my eyes. What’s the point in a film which doesn’t affect you mentally? This film is creepy, unsettling and hard to make sense of, but it’s pure art. I wouldn’t recommend watching it alone, or when you’re not sober, and have something nice to watch when it’s finished!

Witchfinder General (1968) directed by Michael Reeves

Admittedly, I probably first watched this film because I was obsessed with Dani Filth when I was younger, and he mentioned it in an interview. But being interested in witchcraft and the macabre punishments that were in place during the witch-hunting era, this film was my cup of tea. It’s gruesome and leaves you feeling terrible for the poor women suspected of witchcraft, but Matthew Hopkins, the witchfinder himself, is incredibly strong in character in a terrifying way. The film has a gloomy substance, and when it finished I was left in a bit of a miserable state. But that is what a good horror does!

Basket Case (1982) directed by Frank Henenlotter

This is another film which had to make the list purely because of its disturbing and outlandish essence. This film is absolute madness, the idea is total lunacy and I won’t even mention it here, for the sake of those yet to watch it. Just seeing the poster for this film either makes you laugh, or cry, and the film does exactly the same. Basket Case comes as a trilogy, and for me get more ridiculous with each film. It does categorise as a comedy horror, and it was probably scarier for an audience in the eighties, and now just humorous for contemporary viewers. This film is great for watching if you fancy something weird, hilarious and a bit creepy.

Kids (1996 in the UK, 1995 in USA) directed by Larry Clark

With Harmony Korine writing the screenplay for this film, I saw a lot of similarities between Kids and Gummo, in the characters and style. Featuring Chloe Sevigny, a brilliant actress, who also stars in Gummo, this film looks at the theme of drugs, violence, STDs and sex in a group of teenagers. The film opens with an uncomfortably long scene of a young, underage girl graphically kissing an older boy, and this is just the first of many painful scenes, typical of Korine’s story writing. The story follows the teenage boy Telly’s perverted quests and a young woman Jennie’s journey to find the man who gave her HIV. This film is great in respect to its cinematography, emotional provocation and acting.

Moulin Rouge (2001) directed by Baz Luhrmann

This is one of the more mainstream films I adore. I love everything about it, the actors and actresses, the plot, the music, the colours, the romance, Paris, everything. I used to watch this film all the time when I was younger. I think it humorously and poignantly captures the themes of culture, theatre, desperation and romance, through the use of social class, prostitution and wealth. Another one I’d highly recommend to anyone who hasn’t seen it yet!

Dracula (1958) directed by Terence Fisher

I’m pleased to be able to say I read Bram Stoker’s Dracula way before I watched any of the film adaptations- so I had a good basis to go off when deciding which was my favourite. To be perfectly honest, Christopher Lee’s presence in this film makes me slightly biased, as well Peter Cushing’s (he lived in my hometown, Whitstable). The first time I watched this film was on a big projector by the beach near my home, at a mini film festival during Summer 2013. It was a great setting, as it played during the sunset, so the atmosphere was beautiful. Christopher Lee just portrays the best Dracula, fulfilling the most characteristics described by Bram Stoker, and looks genuinely terrifying for a film made in the late-fifties. Whilst Bela Lugosi’s portrayal of Count Dracula is still iconic, it doesn’t quite fit the alarming and formidable demeanour which Dracula needs- however, this probably wasn’t as achievable- or legal to show on screens- in the early thirties.

Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979) directed by Werner Herzog

This is the only version of Nosferatu I have seen so far, so I can’t compare it to the earlier or later ones, but I enjoyed this film so much. Nosferatu is one of the more spine-chilling vampire characters invented, with horrible protruding teeth and a freakish, bald head. The classic image of Nosferatu leaning over Lucy, (the typical, swooning, voluptuous damsel in distress) fangs at the jugular, is one of the best stills created in film. I think Lucy is portrayed perfectly, she is particularly beautiful and stands out to me. She works perfectly in contrast with the ugly, frightening Nosferatu, who remains just as hideous in each theatrical representation. This film is great, and as usual, not as scary nowadays as it was originally intended, but nevertheless a brilliant watch.

Gaslight (1940) directed by Thorold Dickinson

Not to be confused with the 1944 American remake, this film follows the manipulative relationship between Bella and Paul Mallen following a murder. The whole plot is Paul cruelly convincing Bella that she is going mad, and she begins to doubt her own mind and sanity. He controls her into believing that much of reality is actually just in her own head. The whole story is a tale of deception and manipulation, and fortunately there is justice in the end. It’s hard to write about why this is one of my favourites, as many of my reasons gives away a lot of the plot! It’s one of the older films I like, and sadly older films are sometimes disregarded because of their age. I would really recommend this puzzling and exciting film, which keeps you on edge throughout its entirety. The term ‘gaslighting’, a form of manipulation which causes people to doubt their sanity, originates from this film!

Metropolis (1927) directed by Fritz Lang

Metropolis is a German, silent science-fiction film, which I was fortunate enough to see featuring many scenes which had been missing for a long time! I found this film quite difficult to understand, especially as I wasn’t used to seeing silent films at the time, and it was incredibly long. However, music assists silent films so much, revealing a lot of emotion and suspense which would otherwise be hard to detect. The film is extremely symbolic, looking at cultural and political issues in Germany, such as democracy and capitalism. I had to include this in my list as again, it was very influential for me, and many other film fans. I’m not politically educated enough to quite understand Fritz Lang’s meaning, but it’s open for interpretation, and everyone who watches it has a fresh perspective and unique ideas on what it could mean.

Betty Blue (1986) directed by Jean-Jacques Beineix

Betty Blue has a secure, cherished and precious place in my heart and soul. That sounds dramatic, but it is honestly one of the most romantic, poignant and intense films I’ve watched. It’s also a book, which I read shortly after watching the film for the first time, and it impressed me equally as much as the film. It follows the turbulent and passionate relationship between Betty and Zorg, who are madly in love and care for nothing but each other. The film is really long, but takes you through a vigorous journey of emotions. I don’t think I’ve ever watched Betty Blue without weeping at the end. It’s set in France too, which creates an all the more romantic and seductive sense in the film. Because you experience the couple go through so much, you get to know the characters so well and a sturdy attachment to them is made. Whilst so many events take place, the imperishable love for Betty that Zorg has is endlessly felt throughout the entire film. It truly captures the essence of unconditional love.

[regiciidal-a-blog]

tagged by.  @aeniiigma. tagging.  anyone who wants to :B

GENERAL

name:  sparrow birthday: may 2 sexual orientation: gay lmao school status: ik this is asking grade level bUt --- im going to online school & Suffering

YES/NO

drink?:  no smoke?:  no eat cake?:  depends on what kind it is ( if its chocolate yes, any other kind meh ) believe in true love?: meh afraid of the dark?: mmm not really afraid just uncomfortable cat person?:  yes..... its funny bc i have a dog. ive only ever had dogs. virgin?: lmaooo obviously

FAVORITES

shampoo: i dont really use a specific one... disney song: mmMMM fuck. thats really hard for me to answer --- top 5. all right. i’ll make a man out of you; i won’t say i’m in love; friends on the other side; poor unfortunate souls; beauty & the beast. mmm im not going to aDD at least 5 more lmao fck actress/actor: emeraude toubia probably,, im gay car: i... am not a car person person: lmao nah type of weather: kinda rainy but not Too rainy color: purple 90s sitcom: mm i didn’t grow up in the 90s but boy meets world or friends ig??

QUESTIONS

what is your special talent/skill as a roleplayer? being terrible no no im sorry. uhh, i think my style is p developed?? like. ofc no one’s style is ever fully developed, especially for me since im still developing mentally / physically, but. yeah. i’m pretty proud of my style & grip on writing in general --- like not to be a vapid bitch but i’m a damn good writer wtf. UMM i guess i project onto characters so i end up writing some from a personal standpoint.... though that could fall into a flaw point when i get TOO deep.

what is your favorite type of roleplay genre, and why? angst kills me but i love writing it

why did you pick your muse? my angel boy. the loml. my moon & stars. my bAby. ANYWAY now that im done waxing ill actually answer --- i wanted to rp again, in my hyperfixation fandom, & tooru’s my favorite & probably one of the characters i relate to the most. so like [shrug emoji]

if you could write any other muse - but know you don’t have the muse for them - who would it be? honestly i would write shigeru if 1) i had the time management skills & muse 2) i didn’t want to interact with a shigeru. or the entirety of seijoh. or some nekoma characters. or hitoka. oR otabek ( sorry babe ) or mila ( my gf wtf ) --- yeah k im stopping now

what is one thing you think you need to work on as a partner? mmm communication, probably. i’m not really good at starting or holding conversations, & i’m not good at reading people --- it’s mostly anxiety with a dash of all my other brainweird stuff. i’m highly introverted irl, & even quite a bit online, & i’m always concerned about how people see me. so, uh, i especially try not being too negative or bitchy but it’s. um. hard??

what would be your warning label to other roleplayers? impulsive when it comes to things that dont even mAtter basically ( my anxiety interferes too much when i actually wanna impulsively put myself in danger ) ; drops way too many threads or takes 5ever to reply ; terrible conversationalist ; makes 42302380 blogs they drop within a week ; needs validation Way Too Much(tm) ; has weird mood swings ; overall not even a hot mess just a Mess lmao

what is your favorite episode/scene of your muse? mmmmm fuCK. even if it Hurts(tm) me the spring highs in general. his development only to lose what hes been wanting for YEARS --- & not to the powerhouse he’s been fighting against for those years but the underdogs --- makes me cry. fuck now im emo dont DO this to me

what crack!ships do you have for your muse? crossover/oc ships unincluded, i... have a lot of canon ships even if i have my main ones ( kiyo.yachi , iwa.oi , kuro.ken, sometimes kage.hina ) --- rn im pretty into oi.hina & oi.kuro ig?? i like oi.suga , oi.dai , aka.oi , & oi.boku too... ( & i actually do like ushi.oi & oi.kage , but the latter’s not really a crack ship i dont think.. even ushi.oi has lowkey onesided basis ) lmao im stopping there ok

what is your senpai blog? im sorry i cant think of anyone... also the usage of “ senpai ” lowkey annoys me but ok im not here to be salty