#i feel anxious bc i just know the moment i lose steam these will never see light of day

[lynn-tged-posting]

"oh wow i've written like 10k words for tged, i've never written that much for something before, this is grea-"

"-they're all for separate works. nothing is finished. it's maybe like 1k words for each piece. all are half-baked."

[lacheri]

Okay so... you might not even take requests but I’ll give this a shot anyway bc I love everything you write. I fucked up at work big time today and I feel tremendously anxious and guilty. Which made me think... Levi scenario with gf reader messing up on the field? I know he’d prob be harsh af at first but maybe... some fluff in the end? ): only if you want ofc.

hi nonnie! sorry for taking a few days to write this! but I hope u like it <3 (sorry to hear about your bad day btw ):)

accidents and apologies

pairing: dom!Levi x sub!fem bodied reader

content: canonverse, impact play, mild choking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex/creampie, oral (f receiving), some humiliation/degrading, reader is clumsy and Levi is mean, minors DNI

wc: 3.2k

Fat tears sat in thick clusters on the brim of your lash line, a hiccupping sob racking your body. You were as good as dead, having possibly made the biggest fuck up of your military career thus far. Titans seemed like ants in comparison, the fly that buzzes by your ear that irritates you to no end. Levi’s odm gear sat in pieces on the floor, and somehow this loomed over you like the Colossal titan, maybe even larger.

The polish container sat forgotten on your captain’s desk, the wipe slipping from your trembling hands. Your bottom lip quivered, your lungs filling with air quickly as you slumped to the floor next to the shattered metal. Your off duty position of being Levi’s assistant was practically over, it had barely even begun. You had begged for this job for weeks now, only a few days into being his helping hand, you reflected on how poorly of a job you’d done.

It wasn’t enough you had gotten Levi’s tea wrong this morning, adding sugar to the steaming mug, thinking he’d like a change in taste. He didn’t, immediately spitting the liquid out, cursing you into guilt on the spot. To try to make it up to the ravenette, while he was on his lunch, you sat at his desk and began to organize his paperwork by date of importance. You felt pride as you finished with the three piles of stacks, putting fresh ink in his pot for his quill. However, Levi was horribly furious to see what your regret had manifested into. How were you supposed to know he liked his documents organized by date of assignment, not what was most important?

This was the cherry on top, Levi leaving for dinner, mentioning that his gear did need some polishing. Surely, you wouldn’t fuck this up, he thought as he closed the door to his office behind him. How wrong the man had been though. Within minutes, your fingers became slippery, losing your grip on the cold metal as watched in horror as it clattered to the floor, breaking on impact. It didn’t make much sense, how could it have broken? Wasn’t the gear meant to outlast a titan’s grip? Especially Levi’s trusty gear, you couldn’t fathom how his gear was now laying in pieces on the floor.

You sucked back your sob as you heard the creek of the door, your heart falling straight down to the pit of your stomach. Of course Levi would be back before you recite your apology a thousand times over in your head. You heard the thud of his boots hit the floor as he walked over, seemingly calm.

“Oi, what are you doing on the floor?” he barked out, you could feel his presence looming from behind you.

You turned your head up, his face blurry from the rush of tears in your eyes, “Sir, I am so sorry.”

His grey eyes flickered in front of you, finally taking notice of his broken gear. His lips twitched in a deep frown as he sucked in air through his nostrils harshly.

“Get up, cadet,” Levi spoked venomously, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

You hurried to your feet clumsily, trying your hardest to quell your cries from your throat. You faced him, head downturned, attempting to steady your racing heart rate and the tremors in your bones. Whatever control you thought you had slipped from your grasp the second your captain’s lips parted.

“Never in my life have I met someone as insolent as you,” the harshness of his words kept your eyes on his boots, fresh teardrops rolling down your cheeks. Levi was not going to speak to the crown of your head though, and his hand gripped your chin to force your eyes up, looking directly into his own. “You’re going to look at me while I talk to you, understood?”

You nodded, but this was not what Levi was searching for, “Your words, cadet.”

“Yes, sir,” it came out of your mouth as a squeak.

“You want to explain to me why my odm gear is broken?”

“It slipped,” you hiccupped, violently shaking under his fierce glare. “I couldn’t catch it in time. Captain, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he bemused darkly in disbelief. “This is the third time today you’ve fucked something up, and you’re just sorry?”

“I don’t know what else to say,” you were on the verge of hyperventilating as you stuttered your words out.

“Well, now you owe me new gear, and you’re going to personally pay for the expense,” Levi’s hand left your face as he backed away from you, sitting down at his desk.

You looked on in confusion, “Sir, I don’t have any money?”

“Then I guess you’re fired,” Levi tilted his head back as if bored now with the conversation. “You’re relieved of your military duties as well. We can’t afford to have someone as brainless as you in the Scouts.”

“Captain, please,” you raised your voice, arms wrapping around yourself to contain your shaking.

Levi’s eyes darkened, leaning forward to press his elbows on his desk as he leaned his head onto his intertwined fists, “Leave my office, now.”

This couldn’t be happening. You had no home to return to, having left it behind long before you joined the Training Corps. This was your life, your purpose, your friends were here. You finally felt like you had a place in the world here in the Scouts.

“I’ll do whatever I have to!” you begged, not moving a muscle. “Whatever I can do to stay!”

“Are you deaf or just an idiot?” Levi pushed onto his feet, striding over to stand right in your face as he spat. “Leave my fucking office, that’s an order!”

Your bottom lip trembled, and you felt so fucking pathetic but couldn’t stop yourself from one last attempt, “Please, sir. Don’t kick me out, please let me make it up somehow.”

Your brain took a moment to catch up with what had just happened as you were suddenly staring down at the wooden notches of Levi’s desk. He had grabbed your wrists in a fierce swiftness, pushing you face down, his hands now positioned against your spine to keep you in place. His right hand reached around to fumble with your belt, and your heart began to race for other reasons.

“Captain?” you stuttered, feeling him begin to pull off the belts stationed on your thighs.

“You think you can just beg me in that voice, looking like that, and expect me not to lose control?” his voice was thick with anger, but instead of fear, it tickled bouts of arousal in your lower stomach. “Answer me.”

“No?” it came out as a question, you pushed your thighs together as you felt a pulse run through your core as his fingers tickled the exposed skin of your lower stomach. “Sir, I’m confused, what’re doing?”

“Like you have no idea what you do to me,” Levi chuckled without humor. “You begged me to be my assistant even though you knew you weren’t going to be a good one. You think I wouldn’t notice, your little crush on me?”

It was true, so entirely true. Levi had been the object of your affection for such a long time now, taking every opportunity to get as close to the man as possible. If you were being honest with yourself, this fantasy of being bent over his desk was a constant distraction in your mind. He was right, you were shit at cleaning, you were probably the most clumsy person you knew, you really had no qualifications to be Levi’s aide, yet you still asked for the position.

“Then why’d you hire me, Captain?” the bratty words left your lips as it dawned on you, Levi had found you appealing regardless of your lack of qualities.

With a quick motion, your pants and panties were bunched around your knees, Levi’s palm meeting the now exposed skin of your cheek in a caress, “The same reason you’re fucking soaked right now, cadet.”

You stayed in position as Levi brought his other hand to your opposite ass cheek, fingers kneading the fat as he spread you open to his hungry view. He was right, you were dripping. His pointer finger ran down the seam of your ass, laying a soft touch to your hole, watching it flutter in excitement. He couldn’t hold back the smirk on his face, removing his touch entirely.

You whined, pushing your bottom closer to Levi’s hands, desperate for his touch. Your hips were slammed against the edge of his desk, his fingers digging firmly into the back of your thighs, pushing your legs back together. You felt a jarring sting on your backside, yelping in response as you could make out the distinct imprint of each of his fingers.

“You want to show me you’re really sorry?” Levi’s voice was low and raspy as he soothed his palm over the reddened mark he had made. “Tell me after every slap.”

You were able to brace yourself this time as you felt the strike of his hand once more on your opposite cheek, unable to contain your moans at the contact. You squirmed as you felt removal of Levi’s touch leave you, only to bite down on your tongue harshly as he swatted the back of your thighs much harder than he had on your ass.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he spoke ruthlessly as another slap hit your thighs.

“I’m sorry!” you cried, gasping for air from the impact.

“Again,” his hand smacked the fat of your ass again, his other hand smoothing over the harsh red blotches against your thighs in an attempt to soothe the pain.

“‘M sorry!” you were whining, knuckles white from gripping the opposite edge of the desk as you arched your ass up into his hold. Part of you was genuinely shocked over how much you were enjoying this, thoroughly aroused mentally and physically.

Levi couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight in front him. The handprints scattered across your lower half had his cock springing to life, hard and painfully erect. His hands traveled down to your pussy lips, using his thumbs to spread you open. Your hole was drooling, Levi let out a deep groan at the sight. He couldn’t stop himself, he had to have a taste.

You let out a sputtered moan as you felt the tip of your captain’s tongue lick a stripe from your hole to your clit. You pushed your hips further into his touch, thankful he resisted in shoving you back into the edge of the desk this time. His fingers held you open and apart, his taste buds rolling circles into your clit before returning back to your flitting opening, shoving his tongue in your walls. You could feel it fold in half, almost in a cupping motion as he bobbed his head, lapping as much as he could.

“Oh my God,” you whined, thrusting a hand behind you to grasp at his hair. His palms circled to the fronts of your thighs, digging his fingers into the fat as he pulled you somehow closer as he buried his face further into your dripping heat.

You were seeing stars, in between the mix of the pain and pleasure, your brain was completely empty. Levi’s right hand left your left thigh for a moment, coming back with a softer slap, inching his fingers to your center. His pointer finger swirled your clit relentlessly, and your breathing hitched as you were brought to even higher heights than before. His thumb joined not long after, pinching and pulling at your bud as you yelped.

You could feel the beginnings of your impending orgasm as Levi twisted and lapped your walls. The burning churn in your lower stomach became almost unbearable as Levi’s fingers worked faster at your bundle of nerves, full of purpose and intentions. Levi could feel the sudden change, your pussy clenching tighter and tight around his wet muscle. Your arousal was thicker, almost muskier as he inhaled through his nose, and Levi could swear he could drink from your core as if you were the finest of wines.

At the first blinding rush of pleasure, your body preparing itself for the intense promise of release, the ravenette removed all touch. You were gasping for air, your entire body’s nerves tingling uncomfortably. You were aching, desperate for anything.

“Look at you,” the return of Levi’s palm slapping your ass was welcomed with a smile on your face, thankful for any form of touch. “Falling apart that easy?”

You mumbled out a 'sorry', remembering his earlier warning. Apparently this was the word Levi was searching for, spinning you around and attaching his grip to your hips, slamming your sore ass on his desk, shoving his paperwork to the floor. Your eyes widened dramatically, seeing Levi’s cock fully exposed out of the zipper of his trousers. He was thick, his tip red and angry as he moved his fist over his length, a quiet groan leaving his parted lips as he relieved some of his own pent up arousal.

“Open,” he demanded, removing his hand from his dick, extending his palm to your pouty lips. You complied, letting your mouth loll open as Levi’s fingers pressed against your tongue, rolling them around to coat his digits.

He pulled them out with a pop from your lips, returning his now dripping hand to his erection, covering the entire member in your saliva. He gripped the backs of your knees after he deemed himself properly lubed up, dragging you right to edge as he positioned himself.

His grey eyes flickered up, fiery and full of lust, his voice hoarse, “You ready?”

“Yes,” you mewled, your fingers wrapping around the edge of the wood to steady yourself.

Without a moment of hesitation, Levi held your legs up as he slid his fat tip along the slick of your folds. It was so wet, so sloppy, you couldn’t contain the whimper leaving your lips as he pressed into your sopping hole. You could’ve sworn you felt your soul attempt to leave your body as he slid in, resting his tip right against your sweet spot once he was fully sheathed, your eyes rolling back into your skull as the mind blowing pleasure. He hadn’t completed a full thrust before you were begging for more.

“Please, please, more,” you managed out in between gasps, Levi rolling his hips backwards.

“You want more?” he chided, ramming himself so hard, the two of you bounced from the impact. You nodded, unable to voice a single word, drool threatening to escape your lips. His fist left the comfort of your bent knees, coming up to squish your cheeks together, a dribble of spit glistening against your pout, “You’ll answer me when I ask you a question, brat.”

“Yes! More!” you strangled out, muffled from his grip on your face. He let go, placing a very soft pat to your cheekbone, almost as a reward.

“Atta’ girl,” Levi’s gaze turned dark as his eyes traveled from your eyes to the column of your neck. How pretty would you look with his fist wrapped around your throat?

The thought was threateningly persuasive as Levi found himself doing just that, squeezing the sides of your neck as he began to piston his cock between your folds. The sounds of slapping skin and your pussy squelching had you panting loudly, Levi’s fingers pressing harder into the sides of your throat. It felt so good, good wasn’t even the word to describe it. In fact, there weren’t any words in your brain at all, too consumed by the visuals of the ravenette plowing hard into you.

His hand left your throat upon seeing your eyes begin to flutter, his concern for your ability to breathe over taking his lust. Instead, he circled both his arms under your back, bringing you up into a folder position against his chest. He placed open mouth kisses along the curve of your shoulder, licking and sucking at any skin he could reach. Your ankles hooked around his waist, and you couldn’t hold yourself back from slipping a hand to your aching clit.

“Kiss me,” you pleaded into Levi’s neck as your middle finger rubbed hard at your clit, your thick slick coating the pad. You got curious, letting your hand trail further down, exploring the motion of his cock pummeling into you.

“Put your hands on my back, and maybe I will,” he growled out, displeased that he wasn’t the one bringing you total and complete pleasure.

You followed his orders with speed, his head navigated out of the crook of your neck, capturing your lips with a hasty passion. He tasted sweetly sour, the lingerings of your essence resting in the crevices of his lips, but still, you couldn’t get enough of his kiss. When his hand finally left the middle of your spine, and began to travel down to your center, you could feel the bubbles of climax igniting back in your stomach.

“Levi,” you moaned into his mouth as his fingers moved at lightning speed against your nerves, timed nearly perfectly with the pattern of his thunderous thrusts. The desk was squeaking loudly against the floor as he continued to pound into animalistically, moving it slightly with every move.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna’ cum,” you swallowed his words as he somehow sped up his movements, driving you straight to your climax.

You couldn’t even warn him, you barely had time to realize you were cumming yourself. It almost hurt how tightly you had clenched his cock as the pleasure nearly blinded you, unable to hold back swears and moans. Levi kissed you harder, and upon feeling your contractions swallowing him whole, your plush walls pulling his tip right up against your cervix, his hips staggered and his knees buckled.

Levi’s brain went blank as his orgasm was ripped from him, “Fuck, fuck!”

Levi should’ve felt embarrassed at the noises that left his mouth, whimpers and soft moans exiting his throat as he came hard. It was almost too much, the feeling of your wet heat wrapping around his most intimate part, the closeness of your bodies, although still fairly clothed, had his heart hammering in his ears.

When you came down from your highs, all you could was stare at each other in astonishment, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. He rested his sweaty forehead against yours, fluttering his eyelashes shut as he kissed you gently. You let out a sleepy giggle, your body entirely spent. His hand finally left the sensitive skin of your clit, wrapping your fingers around the back of your head as his kiss deepened.

When he finally slid his softened length out of the depths of your pussy, you were hissing at the fluttering of soreness intruding your pelvis. Levi shot you an apologetic look, kissing your forehead.

“Does this mean I can still be your assistant?” you mumbled, a small smile on your face as Levi reached down to pull his pants up.

His head tilted back as an uncharacteristic laugh bubbled out, flashing you a mischievous smile, “Get yourself cleaned up, and meet me back in my office. I still don’t believe you’re actually sorry.”

LACHERI © 2021: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations. this is my only account.

[venomous--fics]

Anon requested: Can I please request Eddie Brock/Venom helping their s/o who has a tendency to overwork themselves? Like they work super hard at work, go above and beyond at school, but end up so tired and exhausted and anxious bc they should be doing more? Thank you!!!!

You groaned as you kicked the apartment door shut with your foot, nearly losing the papers you were comically holding in your mouth and arms. You carefully set everything on the table and began setting it into the appropriate stacks so you could continue working. It wasn't unusual for you to bring work home, but for the last couple of weeks, you've brought home nearly triple than what you were supposed to.

At first, Eddie didn't see it as an issue because you still got the right amount of sleep, you ate, showered, basically, you functioned like a normal human. But lately, he's gotten kinda worried because he's noticed how your anxiety has been making you go into overdrive. Sure, you liked going a bit overboard to show off, but now it just seemed like it was a real problem. 

Eddie had gotten home an hour after you did, and as he would've guessed... You were slouched at the table. Pen in your mouth, paper in your left hand, right hand holding your head up as your eyes fought to stay open long enough to even hit the space bar on your laptop. Maybe it was just a long day, he thought, but he saw that the plate of dinner you'd made for yourself was still in the microwave. It wasn't even warmed up.

He sighed as he took his jacket off and shushed Venom, who was confused as to why you were behaving this way. Outside of Eddie's anxiety, he didn't know how it affected different people. He didn't want to say it, but it worried him. Humans were stupidly complicated.

Eddie sat to your right and neatly set his folded hands on the table, "Hey. How was work?"

It took a minute for your fried brain to register that he was even there. Your glazed over eyes trailed over to him, "What?"

Eddie smiled a little and quietly shut your laptop, "Babe, I- Well, we think you need a break."

"But I-"

Eddie got up from the table and walked over to the fridge, "No if, ands, or buts."

You looked at the mess of papers, feeling so irrationally uneasy about taking a break. Your brain wouldn't stop telling you to just ignore him and keep working. If you don't do it now, it'll never get done. You'll probably lose your job if you don't finish all of this work right this very second. 

"So, I'm no cook-"

"You really aren't."

"As I was saying-"

"You burn water, Eddie. I didn't think that was physically possible....But I guess it is for you."

"As..I was-"

"You always burn my tater tots too. It's not hard to follow instructions, Eddie."

Eddie sighed as he set the box of pasta noodle on the counter, "Why don't we ask Y/n to help with dinner then?"

"At least they don't burn water."

They paused for a moment. Normally you were ready to step in and make dinner, or tell them to bicker somewhere else, to which they'd just step to the other side of the table. But there was nothing. They turned their attention to you, and surprise surprise, you were working again.

"Don't you want to help with dinner?" Eddie asked a bit sheepishly, "You know I really suck at this.."

"Mmhmm." you hummed, "In a minute."

"Babe-"

"I said in a moment," you repeated.

Eddie walked back to the table and shut your laptop, and again, like earlier, it took your brain a moment or two to process what was happening.

Your hands slumped into your lap and you rested against the back of the old chair, staring blankly ahead. Eddie wasn't sure if you were giving him attitude or if you were just so tired that you didn't want to talk, but he just didn't like seeing you like this.

"Can you please take a break?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have to get it done."

"Right now?" Eddie flipped through some of the papers and noticed that some of the dates were for next week, "Babe, you're gonna work yourself to death.."

You clenched your fists and pinched your eyes shut, "I have to get them done so that way I don't have to worry about them anymore."

"I was okay with you bringing, yknow, a normal amount of work home but this is a bit much, isn't it?" Eddie looked back to you, and that’s when he finally noticed the dark circles under your eyes. He sighed, not in disappointment or anything, just out of guilt that he didn't stop you sooner, "Listen to me."

He sat back in his original position, to your right, "Well, I mean, more like trust me.. This shit sucks, like alot, but worrying about it all the time isn't going to make it better."

"But, if-"

"Finishing it early won't really make a difference either." Eddie immediately realized how harsh that sounded, "What I mean is that, by the time you even get to the stuff for next week- It's gonna be next week..."

You sighed, caving in a little, "I guess I got a little.. Overzealous. I just.. I really need to stay on top of it all-"

Your sentence broke off into intangible rambling and you got so worked up about it all that you started crying, and then you started crying more because you were crying for a silly reason.

Eddie quickly pulled into a hug and rubbed your back, "It's okay, I promise. Just take a deep breath."

You listened to Eddie and took a few deep breaths, and when you calmed down enough, you noticed that your arm felt a bit warmer. You looked and saw Venom coiled around your arm, like a slick little worm, and his small blob head rested on your shoulder, and for the first time in a while, he looked sad or upset.

"Sorry," you said quietly.

Two little white eyes looked up at you, almost innocently, and not like he had eaten a mugger two hours prior to coming home, "It's not your fault."

Eddie, wanting nothing more than you help you feel better, helped you stand up, "How about this..?"

You looked up at him, wiping your face a little, but Eddie moved your hands and cupped your face, "What if Venom and I attempt to make dinner while you take a shower and get into something comfier?"

That did sound nice, you hadn't noticed how stiff your clothes felt.

"And we can watch whatever you want, or eat in bed, I don't care."

You paused for a moment, and Eddie knew you were thinking about working still. With your face still in his hands he gently tilted your chin up and gave you a soft kiss on the lips, "Won't take no for an answer, love."

"What if I want to eat in the shower?"

"Sounds terrible," Venom chimed, still latched to your arm.

You chuckled, and you saw how Eddie and Venom both lit up at the sound. You stifled another chuckle as you playfully ran a finger under Venom's chin as he uncoiled himself from your arm, "Okay, okay, I'll shower."

"Thank you." Eddie said, stepping back to the stove.

You were about to head to your bedroom for clothes when you looked back at the table. Eddie could feel you staring, "I promise we will help you work tomorrow, or the day after, but-"

"It's alright, I was just.." You cleared your throat, "Thinking about clearing off the table."

"And I'm the president," Eddie quipped, setting the pot of water on the burner.

"No you're not."

"It's an expression."

"I'm not happy about it."

"No, not that kind of-...That's an emotion."

"I feel nothing."

You laughing as you gathered some clothes and went into the bathroom, "It seems like V is quiet the comedian."

"Don't encourage him."

You started the shower and the moment the warm steam started filling up the room, you felt ten times better. Maybe you should really just take a step back for a bit. Take it easy, as all your friends would say.. Of course, you were stubborn so there's no telling if you would actually listen, but, it was worth a shot. Also, why do warm things have to be so relaxing? You were almost dozing off in the shower. It was nice, you had to admit, but, not exactly a good place to just fall asleep in.

You couldn't help but think about all the work you should be doing, but you tried to shut it all off by imagining the mess you'd have to help clean up after pasta night. It was a bit amazing how big of a mess one, arguably small, alien could make with a single noodle.

Maybe there was other things to worry about. Not that you should worry, but habits die hard. Either way, worried or not, you finished up in the bathroom and got into the comfiest clothes you'd worn in a while. And upon leaving the bathroom, you could hear Eddie and Venom bickering in the kitchen about how to cook the sauce. 

"Just read the can." you said, smiling as you stepped into view.

"That's easy for you to say," Venom said, "I can't read English."

"That explains alot," you replied.

"It's difficult. Eddie is no better."

"I love you guys."

"We love you too."

Eddie awkwardly held out a sauce covered spatula, "Could you.. Help me? I'm a bit worried I'll burn the sauce."

You took the spatula, "Just gotta make sure it doesn't get too hot."

"Oh."

"That's what I said," Venom spat.

You snickered a bit more as you helped your boys out in the kitchen. Dinner went smoother than expected and all three of you wound up crashing on the couch, wrapped up in a huge blanket Eddie had bought over the holidays because, 'It was on sale.' For your information, it had puppies and hearts on it, so Eddie bought it for those two things alone. Price was an after thought. It's always an after thought with Eddie.

[hongism]

not your typical flower shop story chapter two

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Flower Shop Owner!Taehyung, College!Reader, College!Taehyung, Fluff, Angst, Future Smut

Word Count: 6055

Rating: M

Warnings: mild language

Summary: You always goes to the cute boy next door’s flower shop across the street because hi yes he’s the cutest damn person you’ve ever seen, until one day a guy with tattoos and a severe obsession with the color black shows up in the shop asking for the ‘usual’ and you find out that your cute innocent little flower boy has a dirty little secret.

A/N: okay tbh i didn’t write an outline for this so i just wrote whatever to my mind and let the story take me where it wanted to go. I’m hugely overwhelmed by the support you guys have given to the first part! and hahahahahhaahahh yoongi isn’t a bad boy whOOPS, i wanted to kinda break that stereotype and throw you for a loop lol. And I’m super excited to see where it goes! I am bumping the rating up, because i kinda expect it to get more mature as it progresses and possibly have future smut but??? I’m anxious about that bc i’ve never written smut askfskdjf we will see where it goes!! Onto the story~

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"Here's some hot tea. I don't know if you like that kind of thing. Um, it's peppermint flavored." Taehyung passes a steaming mug your way, but you don't reach out to accept it. You refuse to look in his direction in fact and opt to pull the wool blanket draped around your shoulders closer to your body as though it will take the coldness out of your skin. Taehyung sighs and sets the mug on the coffee table before you. "Y/N..." He trails off without finishing whatever train of thought he had, and instead moves to sit on the couch beside the chair where you sit.

Wood squeaks, protesting against movement that does not belong to Taehyung, but rather Yoongi, who occupies the chair directly across from yours. You lift your gaze to look him in the eye. The furrow of his brows shows the evident concern that both him and Taehyung must be feeling, but too much is running through your system at the moment and you can't bring yourself to care all too much.

The events that followed your text are still a blur, and you aren't sure the memories will ever return to you.

read

That small, supposedly insignificant word remains emblazoned at the forefront of your thoughts. How are you supposed to focus on whatever was happening outside the shock of seeing that word beside your texts after going so long without it? To put it simply: you aren't, and you won't.

You blink at the coffee table, looking past the steaming mug of tea Taehyung set down and towards the identical black objects a bit further down.

"You have a gun," you say at last, eyes fluttering shut as reality slowly settles in.

"Y/N, I can ex—” 

"I must be dreaming. Or losing my mind. Maybe this is all a hallucination, and I've finally lost it."

"I know this is a lot to handle, and I'm truly sorry for putting you in a position where you could have been hurt." Taehyung scoots forward and tries to lessen the distance between the two of you, but you lean away from him in response. "I can explain."

"Explain what? The boy across the street who sells flowers for a living — and is my neighbor — has a gun on his coffee table. Not only that, he brought said gun to dinner with me. Then there was an armed robbery at the diner, and I had to text your "friend" in code." You shake your head as you speak, unable to process the words yourself. "You're a drug dealer. My neighbor is a drug dealer."

"I'm not a drug dealer!" Taehyung protests.

"Part of the mafia? A gang? Nothing else explains why you would carry a gun, talk in code with your supposed friend, and talk about drugs in your texts!"

"That's not—it wasn't—I have an explanation." Taehyung stands up and brings his hands to his face as though pleading you to hear him out.

"I'm gonna die."

"What? No! Why would you think that?"

"You're gonna kill me to keep me quiet," you reason. "I can't do this."

"No—Y/N, no one is going to kill you." Yoongi cuts into the conversation, pulling your attention off Taehyung with his raspy tone. You press your lips together. "Taehyung, let me explain."

"I'm the one who got her into this mess though! I should be the one to explain," Taehyung argues. He falls back onto the couch, arms falling to the cushions, and heaves a deep sigh.

"It's not your fault that robber came into the diner tonight. There is no way you could've known that was going to happen, okay? Listen: you need a breather as much as Y/N does, so let me explain what's going on."

"Okay, okay." Taehyung relents, and his eyes find you again. You look straight ahead though, chin a bit dipped, and stare at the black combat boots that came to the table you were crouched under at the diner and the pale hands that pulled you out from under it to tell you that it was over.

The faint scent of cinnamon touches your nose as you sniffle, and you acknowledge the smell for the first time since coming to Taehyung's apartment. Warm. Cozy. Safe. Except you are anything but safe right now, and nothing about this situation feels comfortable or warm.

"Y/N, Taehyung is not part of the mafia or anything like that. Neither am I. We aren't drug dealers either, and there are no gangs. It's just a concealed handgun—” 

"That's not legal here though," you interrupt. Another surge of panic rushes through you at the idea of being involved in something illegal. That could mean that I won't be able to visit the hospital anymore, even if it is just the front lobby. Maybe they'll kick me out of university too. Fire me from my job. Then what? I can't pay the medical bills if that happens. I'm fucked.

"You really aren't making this easy, Y/N." Yoongi rubs his forehand, exposing the pale skin under his jacket, and you spot more black ink across it.

"Well, I'm sorry but how in the hell is any part of this situation supposed to be easy?"

"Okay. Fine. I am going to give you two options then. The first: drink the tea and regain your strength, then go back to your apartment and act like this never happened. The second—” 

"Done," you say before Yoongi can finishing explaining anything else. You jolt forward and snatch the mug from the table. The liquid burns your tongue and tastes like fire as it goes down your throat, but none of that is important in the moment. You just want to get out of here. Away from Taehyung, away from Yoongi, and away from the guns. The table trembles when you slam the mug back down against the surface. Both Taehyung and Yoongi wear similar expressions of wide eyes and dropped jaws. "Thanks for the tea, and thanks for saving my life I guess. I'll be leaving now." You hop up from the chair, blanket falling off your shoulders as you do, and head for the door without sparing either man another glance.

Then you're out the door and moving towards your own apartment with uncertain steps and weak knees.

I don't want to know, you tell yourself as you fumble with your keys and struggle to get the door unlocked. I don't need to know. Whatever the hell Taehyung is doing does not matter to me. It doesn't involve me. The less I know the better. You burst into your apartment, and the door slams against the wall hard enough to leave another dent in the plaster. It truly is in your best interest to walk away from Taehyung and Yoongi, ignore them and whatever insane life they're living, and focus on yourself. You don't need flowers anymore.

Hifumi is right. I shouldn't be wasting my money on flowers anyways. I should be saving the money for the medical bills. I should focus more on my studies.

The abrupt scream that leaves your lips surprises you. You aren't sure why the noise escapes — maybe the frustration and panic surrounding your situation or the realization that someone is reading your messages now of all times. Why now? I didn't get any calls from the hospital, they didn't give me any updates, so why? Why is this happening? Why tonight?

Knocking interrupts your train of thought, and the force behind it is so strong that you fear whoever is behind is may break the door. Your heart feels like it's beating in time with the rapid knocks. As you stand in the dark, part of you wants the night to be over and for you to wake up to find that it was all a dream. The other part panics because who the hell would be knocking at your door at this hour? Was it the robber from the diner? Did he follow you back here? Or maybe someone else is here to kill you.

"Y/N, open the damn door!" Taehyung, it's Taehyung's voice. Thank goodness. You stumble towards the door, and in your moment of panic, you forget about your intentions of putting Taehyung out of your life. Twisting the handle, you pull the door open to reveal Taehyung's face behind it. He pushes past you and into the apartment, leaving you to look at Yoongi, who stood hidden behind Taehyung.

"Are you alright?" Yoongi inquires. He stretches an arm out to touch your shoulder, but you shy away from his grasp.

"I'm fine. What's the problem?"

Taehyung rushes around your apartment, scouting out every corner and crevice in sight, and once everything is searched to his liking, he stops to look at you.

"Is someone here? Did something happen? Why did you scream?" He interrogates. You glance down at his hand, spotting the black outline of a gun in his grasp. When you turn back to Yoongi, you spot the same object tucked into the waistband of his pants.

"Di-Did you think—” you stop yourself as the lingering contents in your stomach churn. "No one is here. I'm alone." Why did he have to mention that? What if someone really is here? Dammit there's no way in hell I'll be able to sleep tonight.

"We heard you scream. I thought something happened," Taehyung explains. He tucks the gun behind his back, no doubt placing it in his waistband as Yoongi did. "Y/N, I know you would rather put this out of sight and out of mind. That's fine with me. If you really want to do that, then I won't stop you. Please, though, please stay at my apartment tonight. I need the peace of mind. It's the last thing you have to do for me, and after tonight, we don't ever have to talk again." You fold your arms over your chest. The plea sinks into your skin, and you stand in contemplation of the possibilities as Taehyung waits for your answer with bated breath. No. At least, that is what you ought to say. The puppy dog eyes — those damn puppy dog eyes — are present. How can I say no when he's looking at me like that?

"I—look, you're right next door. Isn't that safe enough for you? Even if it's not, why can't you just stay in my living room? Why do I have to go over to your apartment?" Arms fall to your sides, and you blink at Taehyung. He sighs, fingers coming up to tug at his loose hair, then looks behind you.

"My apartment is safer, Y/N."

"What? Do you have iron bars over the bedroom windows or something?" The man stays quiet in the face of your accusation, exchanging a glance with Yoongi.  "Oh my gosh, you have got to be kidding me. Taehyung, is that even allowed here?"

"Can we ignore that for now?"

"Fine, fine! Just let me change clothes, okay?" You sigh and scoot past him to get to your bedroom. Taehyung prevents you from making it to the door, taking quick steps to reach the wood before you do.

"What if someone is in there? Let me go first. I'll check it out." He jiggles the handle to no avail because you locked the door before leaving this afternoon. Without a word, he finds you with his eyes and waits. The sigh that leaves your lips is a long one, and after that, you unlock the door for him and pray that your room is in a decent enough condition to be seen. Then again, if someone really is in your room, then they've already seen the disaster inside so you shouldn't care all too much. Taehyung bursts into your bedroom with gun in hand, and you nearly scream at the suddenness of his action. The ease and fluidity of his actions shows that this is something he has done before, and he's done it enough times to be comfortable with it. If your heart could plummet any further in dread, it would. After everything that has happened this evening though, you think it's safe to say that you've reached your limit for dread and panic for the rest of the month.

"If it makes you feel any better, he's like this all the time." Yoongi appears at your side. You don't hear him approach, and the darkness in your apartment makes him blend in a bit too much for your liking since he's wearing an obscene amount of black. You jump, hand coming to your chest when he speaks. His eyes widen at your reaction, then fall to a relaxed state again after a moment. "Sorry, I do that a lot."

"I don't wanna know," you claim. Yoongi sends an indiscernible look your way, and you have to remind yourself that it's the truth even though there is curiosity in you that truly does want to know what the hell is going on with Taehyung. "I just want to go to bed and wake up tomorrow as though this didn't happen."

"Is that how you handle all your problems?" Yoongi asks as he watches Taehyung analyze every inch of your bedroom.

"It's the best way to handle problems," you counter. Heat rises on your cheeks, and you begin to feel a bit sheepish for acting so dramatic.

"Really? Let me know how that works out for you in the long run."

"I won't because this is the last time we'll be seeing each other." Again, Yoongi looks at you, and this time a smirk plays at his lips.

"Okay, Y/N."

"Hey, the violets look really nice!" Taehyung's voice cuts through your conversation. He grins at you from the doorway of your bedroom, the boxy smile seeming out of place alongside the gun in his hand. He tucks the weapon back into his waistband, then says, "It looks safe though, so you can go ahead and get whatever you need for the night."

"Oh, uh, thanks." You slide past him to get into your room, glad to see that it isn't as much of a mess as you thought it was. "Can you give me a few minutes? To use the bathroom and stuff?" Taehyung nods and hastily steps back into the living room alongside Yoongi. Shutting the door in their faces feels awkward but the moment of privacy makes it worth it. You head for the bathroom but once you get there, you sit on the floor to stare at your phone, the message you sent earlier still bearing the small insignificant word next to the block of text.

It can't be him. There's no way. The hospital would've called. Someone must have stolen the phone.

You force your shaking fingers to type out another message.

from y/n, 10:49 p.m. unread

   - who is reading my messages? why? what do you want? why do you have this phone?

from y/n, 10:49 p.m. unread

   - i know you can't be the actual owner of the phone because i would know if you were. answer me before the morning or i will call the cops.

Breathe, just breathe, Y/N. You place your phone back in your lap. The amount of time you have left before Taehyung starts to panic and think that someone snatched you from the apartment is dwindling, so you pull yourself to your feet and leave the bathroom. It's cold when you step back into your bedroom, but you like it that way typically, so you shouldn't complain. Tonight, however, it doesn't feel right; nothing does. The air filling your lungs, the cold touching your skin, the methodical rhythm of your heart straining against the confines of your rib cage.

You strip down to your undergarments slowly, peeling each layer away one by one, then you remain in the center of your room. Standing. Thinking. Wondering what the hell happened tonight still because you can't wrap your brain around it. The fan above your head is quiet, so quiet that you can hear Taehyung's voice through the wood of your door.

"She's taking too long, Yoongi."

"Leave her be for a few, Tae. I'm sure she's fine."

"What are we gonna tell the others?"

"Nothing for now. Eventually you'll have to say that you screwed up tonight."

"I screwed up? What the hell did I do?"

"You know the rules! You should've kept your ass in that booth and messaged Tower instead." Tower? Who in the hell… 

"I couldn't do that. Y/N looked way too terrified for me to just sit there and wait for Tower to get off his ass for once."

"Hey, keep it down. She might be able to…” Yoongi's voice dies down and even as you press your ear to the door, you can't hear whatever they're saying anymore.

"I knew it," you mutter under your breath. "It's some sort of drug cartel or the mafia or a gang. Oh my gosh, one of my neighbors is a stripper and the other is a criminal. What the hell?" You are vaguely aware of the fact that you are standing in nothing but a bra and underwear while pressed against your door -- and it isn't hot and sexy in any kind of way because you're alone. The main struggle of this whole night is coping with the fact that your messages say "read" and there is no explanation as to why. Until now actually, because your phone buzzes on your bed, a ding resounds through the room, and you lunge for the device without thinking twice.

from y/n, 10:49 p.m. read

   - who is reading my messages? why? what do you want? why do you have this phone?

from y/n, 10:49 p.m. read

   - i know you can't be the actual owner of the phone because i would know if you were. answer me before the morning or i will call the cops.

"Okay, okay, okay. Y/N, don't panic. Just breathe." You let the device fall to the mattress again. Yet there is still a tremble in your hands as you pull a fresh set of clothes out of your dresser. Your knees still feel weak when you press your legs through the holes of the pants, and a distinct pain lingers in your chest. You wish you were numb, or that the cold would sever this feeling from your body.

No buzz emits from your phone again. You leave your bedroom, bearing sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. If the night's events had not occurred maybe you would be more concerned about the way you look in front of the cute innocent flower boy that is Taehyung. Correction — that was Taehyung, because he no longer holds that image in your mind.

He and Yoongi have moved to your kitchen counter, where one stands on either side of the counter and exchange hushed whispers. The sound of your door opening does not divert their attention, so you clear your throat albeit a bit awkwardly because intruding on such a seemingly serious conversation does not feel right.

"I, uh, I'm ready whenever you are." You shift your weight from foot to foot and stretch your arms away from your sides. The image resembles something a young child would do to get the attention of her parents. You feel like at child too, because of the way you are being coddled and protected by Taehyung and Yoongi. The focus doesn't stay on either man for long as your phone buzzes in your hand. Taehyung speaks but the words go in one ear and out the other as you read the message you just received.

from jimin, 11:05 p.m. read

   - now that's not very fair, is it Y/N?

“Now that wasn’t very fair, was it, Y/N? C’mon, you gotta play fair!”

“I am! I haven’t done anything unfair. You’re the one who is supposed to be good at games, aren’t you?”

You stumble on thin air, grabbing hold of the door frame behind you to steady your wavering balance, and Taehyung stops talking at the sight of your blunder. Shit. Dammit. What the hell? There's no way…what the hell is going on?

"Y/N? Y/N! Hey, are you okay?" Taehyung's shouts grow increasingly louder as he gets closer to you.

"I'm fine," you hiss through gritted teeth. Gripping the wood tighter, you steady yourself and hold out your free hand to deter Taehyung from coming any closer. He pauses at the end of your hand, eyes lingering on the tips of your fingers then travelling up to your face. "I'm feeling a bit lightheaded from everything that's happened tonight."

"Come on, you can lay down as soon as we get back to my apartment." Taehyung wraps his fingers around the hand that you have extended. The warmth from his hand almost burns your cold fingers. He tugs you away from the door frame, and you lose your grip on it, knees locking as the support leaves you, but you manage to stay upright.

"I-I need to lock the door, Taehyung," you say when he pulls you into the hallway. You hold your keys out to prove your point, and Taehyung snatches them out of your hand before you can blink. He tosses them to Yoongi as he steps out to join the two of you in the hallway.

"And I need to make sure you're okay, Y/N." His features soften a bit as he looks down at you, a breathy sigh leaving his parted lips. "I feel responsible for what happened tonight. It's my fault for putting you in a position where you could be hurt, and it's my fault for letting you get this involved with things you're too good for. I'm sorry." The warmth of his hand leaves you, and the cold rushes back. You have to stop yourself from chasing the warmth of his touch.

"You couldn't have known that was going to happen," you argue.

"You really think so?" Taehyung's voice holds a melancholy thickness in it, and although he has his back turned to you now, you can picture the puppy dog eyes.

"Taehy—” 

"I could've picked any other place and this wouldn't have happened."

"That can't change anything now, Taehyung. As upset as I am, I still want you to know that I don't blame you for anything that happened. There's no way you could've known."

"That's where you're wrong, Y/N. I should have known, and I should've said no to you when you asked to get dinner because I know how dangerous it is to know a person like me." Taehyung won't look at you as he speaks. You follow him into his apartment again, the warmth scent of cinnamon hitting your nose once more. Yoongi follows close behind, your keys hooked on his index finger and jingling as he twirls them around, and he snaps the door shut. "Yoongi has the right idea. You ought to act like this never happened after tonight, because that's the best way for you to be safe. I promise that I won't bring you into anything ever again. You should avoid coming to the flower shop too. There are other places to get bouquets if you still want them, but I don't think it's smart for you to keep coming to me when you don't trust me and I'm dangerous."

"I know," you mutter. "That's my plan." Taehyung shifts from foot to foot, then turns to face you.

"Good. Yea…that's good."

The clinking sound behind you ceases.

"I'm getting a call," Yoongi announces, clearing his throat before he speaks. "I'll be right back, Char—Tae." He stumbles on the name, the first syllable spilling out awkwardly before he rushes to correct himself. You don't bother looking in Yoongi's direction, instead focusing on the flash of panic that flashes through Taehyung's brown eyes. He notices your stare lingering.

"Uh, come on, I'll show you my room." He motions for you to follow him and leads the way to his room. "I'm sorry if it's a bit messy. I wasn't really expecting…well, never mind." Taehyung opens the door to a dark room, one with blue painted walls and a pale carpet spread across the wood floor. The room illuminates as Taehyung flicks the light switch on. A bit messy, no. It's not that, and you couldn't call it that even if you were being nice. The mess starts near the front door, a pile of clothes beside the entrance, and it continues to the bed where the sheets are pulled back and almost tugged off the mattress. A pile of papers scatter haphazardly on his desk, crumpled up balls of paper fall from the surface to the floor, missing the trash bin only a few feet away. Across the window, sure enough, lie five rows of iron bars, the handiwork obviously belonging to someone who isn't an engineer or architect by any means. You decide not to comment and pass a smile Taehyung's way instead.

"Don't worry about it," you say.

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"O-Oh, okay, well — uh just let me know if you do. I'll be right outside."

"Okay."

Taehyung glances over the mess again, and you see the internal debate etched across his features. He must talk himself out of picking anything up because he spins on his heel and steps out of the room, leaving you to stand alone. The two of you stare at each other. His grip tightens around the door knob. The tension hanging in the air thickens.

"Taeh—” 

"Y/N—” 

You speak at the same time. If the tension didn't exist, maybe both of you would laugh and urge each other to go ahead and speak first. Neither of you say anything though, voices dying in your throats. Taehyung pulls the door shut after a quiet apology, and you blink at the wood in shock.

"Oh." The sigh leaves your lips, a rush of air that feels warm against your cold mouth, and you turn away from the door. Sitting on the bed leaves a strange sensation in your gut, one that tells you that you don't belong here, this isn't your home, and even with the iron bars and Taehyung's promise of safety, you don't feel safe here. You're typing away at your phone in a frenzy now, mind reeling more and more as the night continues.

from y/n, 11:26 p.m. unread

    - i know you aren't really him, because the hospital would've told me if anything happened. so quit playing games and tell me who you really are.

What happened that night...you don't want to relive any of those memories, and perhaps you can use that as your excuse as to why you never visited his room in the hospital. Facing the consequences of your mistakes and decisions would be far too difficult for you to handle. Besides, as you told Yoongi earlier, the best way to deal with your problems is to run away from them. Leaving a vase of flowers in the lobby with instructions on which room to deliver them to was enough. It is enough. You won't change your mind on that decision.

A series of soft knocks touch the door and your ears at the same time, and you look up from your lap. It opens without your permission, and you half expect Taehyung to step through, a rectangular grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. Maybe he would start talking about violets again, or go on about which flowers do best this time of year. But no, you have no such luck, because it's Yoongi who steps in with another steaming mug in his hands.

"More tea from Taehyung. He didn't want to bother you anymore though." Yoongi lifts the mug as he walks closer to the bed. The scent of peppermint mixes with cinnamon, and you wrinkle your nose. If Yoongi notices, he doesn't mention it; instead, he places the mug on Taehyung's bedside table beside a couple balled up pieces of paper. "You know," he says, "I don't blame you for wanting to run away from this situation."

"Who says I'm running away?"

"Oh, my bad. Isn't that how you deal with your problems?"

"It's not running away," you hiss back, glaring up at the leather clad man before you. He tilts his head, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth up.

"No need to get feisty."

"Don't act like you know me. We met only a few hours ago."

"Don't act like I haven't heard of you before today." Yoongi leans forward, bending at the waist to be eye level with you. "Taehyung is chatty, you know." You bite the tip of your tongue hard enough to draw blood, and Yoongi chuckles.

"What exactly do you want?" You ask.

"Nothing." You frown at the response, disbelief evident in your expression. "Alright kid, scoot over so I can sit."

"Um, kid?"

"You're a university student, so you must be younger than me."

"Aren't you the same year as Taehyung?"

"No, I graduated five years ago."

"W-What? But Taehyung said—” 

"He lied." Yoongi cuts you off, pushing the haphazard bed sheets around to make a spot to sit.

"What else did he lie about?" You mutter the question more to yourself than to Yoongi, but he responds anyways. The mattress creaks under the added weight, and you subconsciously shuffle away from him and move closer to the pillows at the head of the bed.

"He's not a bad person, Y/N. That's probably the only thing he's lied about."

"Except for his profession."

"Has he really lied about that? Think about it, Y/N. What do you know about him?"

"I thought I knew he was a university student who runs a flower shop."

"And both those things are true, aren't they?"

"But--"

"Have you ever asked if Taehyung does anything else on the side? Any other jobs? Hobbies? Commitments?"

"We-Well, no…” Yoongi lets that information sink in while you refuse to look his way, gnawing on the edge of your lip with a bit too much enthusiasm.

"What are you trying to blame him for?" The question stops you in your tracks.

What am I trying to blame him for? Nothing. I have no reason to blame him. And I'm not blaming him anyways, I'm just upset that he withheld that information, right? Isn't that what I'm upset about? Nearly dying, receiving texts from someone who shouldn't… 

Tears prick the corners of your eyes.

Freezing. Being unable to move. Crawling under the table in the diner. Crying. Puking. I'm upset that I didn't do anything. I'm upset that I couldn't do anything, not once but twice.

"I'm not trying to blame him for anything," you claim. There is a slight tremble in your tone, a quiet shakiness that Yoongi no doubt detects, but again, he does not comment on it. "I'm not."

"I understand that you don't want to know anything about our...profession, but I'll tell you one thing. We don't do the things we do out of enjoyment. It's out of necessity. A need. Whatever that may be: a job, money, help, something to bring home to family, a means of protection for a loved one. We do what we have to."

"I don't understand," you whisper. Glancing out the corner of your eye, you spot the resigned expression across Yoongi's delicate features.

"Take me for example. I don't enjoy the dirty parts of my job. Things like what happened tonight though? I know I helped Taehyung, and that's what is important to me. I know that the money I earn goes to paying for my younger brother's education. It keeps him from ever having to step in the muddy water I live in. Even if one day he learns what I do and calls me evil, I know that I've done what I can to keep him good." Yoongi stands up all the sudden, groaning along with the bed that squeaks in relief from the extra weight. "Take that as food for thought, Y/N, before you put us down for what we do."

The silence after he leaves the room is deafening. The scent of peppermint too strong in your nostrils, and you feel lightheaded.

Yoongi's words bear a striking resemblance to Hifumi's earlier in the day.

“You call me vile now, but you’ll find out soon enough that we can’t always do good things for the people we love. If it means saving someone, there is no line between good and evil."

We do what we have to.

It's a suffocating soliloquy, not a defense but a revelation. However many times you've wondered how Hifumi could have no shame in her work, Yoongi's explanation serves to shed light on her position as well. She does what she has to, just as Yoongi and Taehyung do.

"You just need to stop letting your ego get in the way of what really matters."

“And what would that be?”

“I can’t answer that for you, love.”

What really matters? You could put five people in a room and ask them that same question, and you would receive five completely different answers. What matters to one person is pointless to another. Take buying flowers from a shop across the street for example. To you, an important and crucial part of the day that serves to alleviate the pain from school and classes. To Hifumi, a waste of money and time based on childish hopes and admiration for a cute boy. Whatever Hifumi meant though, you cannot figure out. Your ego is not getting in the way of anything. You just want to get through school, pay off some hospital bills, and not go into debt because of university. Work as a speech and language therapist, doing good work and being a good person.

“Wow…that’s — uh, you’re a really good person. That’s amazing how you want to help people and do good things for others. I...I can’t imagine.”

Perhaps Taehyung's words make more sense now, knowing that he is a part of some less than savory things in his spare time.

“You…you are a person who has seen a lot of terrible and evil things, but you still see the good in the world nonetheless. You want to expect the best from people, and yet you’ve been disappointed so many times that you aren’t sure anymore. That’s why you’re studying linguistics and psychology. So that you can do something good in the future, something with an impact, something meaningful. You’re too good for this world, yea…no doubt about that.”

An impact.

Something meaningful.

Good.

Is that not what really matters?

You shift your gaze to the mug on the bedside table, and an unprecedented rage swells in your chest. They raise you to think that doing good and being good is all that matters. That no matter what evil you see or hear, you are supposed to be good. Help others by doing good and meaningful things. What if doing good things doesn't get you far enough? You stretch your hand out, knocking the mug to the floor as a cat would with a glass. The ceramic shatters upon impact. Hot tea splashes your bare feet, burning and scalding the skin. A rush? A feeling as though you've broken some sort of invisible chains? Why does it send a thrill of exhilaration up your spine and through your body?

The door bursts open, Taehyung and Yoongi standing behind it to find the source of the crash no doubt. You get to your feet. A shard of ceramic crunches under your toes, not enough weight put down to break the skin, but it stings nonetheless. Both men glance between the mess on the floor and your stony expression.

"Is everything alright, Y/N?"

Your phone is buzzing again, a series of vibrations against the bed, and a distraction for both Taehyung and Yoongi. You pull their attention back with your next words though.

"You said you would give me two options. I want the second, and I want to know everything."

...

written by: jungtaeyoongles

please do not copy, steal, or otherwise take this work.

consider sending me a ko-fi!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[applecherry108]

first of all hooooooooolyyyy shiitttt

FUCK tungle. it took like 30 tries to log in on desktop. admittedly, i was using the wrong password at first, BUT, even when i remembered the right one it kept giving me shit. This is what i get for being L337 i guess... -_-

anyways, im only on desktop so i can add a readmore to say:

i just,,,,,hate voltron. okay? It sucked. it fucking sucked. i watched the first season and it was like, okay yeah, this has potential. and then s2 was like, okay yeah not as good but maybe s3 will pick up...

s3 didn’t pick up. it was just one long death spiral by the same idiots who fucked up the atla sequel. i hate their writing, i hate their story plots, i hate how they butcher any good ideas they have, and i especially hate their inability to have good character AND plot development happen at the same time.

I got swept up in storm of klance and that’s about it. i have soft spots for other ships but at the end of the day i don’t care. i just don.t fucking,,, care???

the fandom is a mess, the crew was a mess, everything was a fucking mess from the get go.

Like who tf is this show written for?? it has to be for like, 8-10 year olds. It has to be. Everything is just so....stupid. Nothing is ever properly explained, motivations never really given, everyone is just a 2 dimensional cardboard cutout of a trope. And that pisses me off so much bc like??? other shows aimed at young kids can still have great world building. they can have good world building and characters and overall story and still be cheesy and a lil dumb. cheesy and a lil dumb is completely fine!! but voltron is just so...godammn... BORING!! it’s like i WANT to like the characters but its just so goddamn hard when everybody is so fucking flat. by all rights, i should want to marry allura. shes everything i loved when i was little, from her color pallet to her princesshood to her white fucking hair!! i should LOVE allura but i don’t!! i kind of hate her. why?? i don’t know!! shes so...boring! and flat! and fucking PASSIVE! everything in this show lands so fucking flat holy shit.

pidge at matts “grave”? yikes, that was second hand hard to watch for like.... “oooh this is so serious!” but the buildup wasnt there...it was kind of funny tbh... and HELLA awkward...

don’t get me started on lance and hunk. bolin was my favorite look character for the first few episodes and then he got knocked to Comic Relief and had maybe two (2) importantish moments. he/they may be part of the main cast but they’re not main characters. they feel like background props to the Actual Main characters.

which brings me to keith.

FUCK keith.

that’s my reaction after every! new! season!! is just,, FUCK keith. god the show functioned SO WELL without him. he’s just so...idk. i also don’t care. what was his character arc anyway? it SHOULD have been about learning to love and trust others but we only get that in lip service and speed run character development (i hate the quantum abyss...so much... like yeah, who cares about SHOWING our characters mature, let’s just tell that it happened in afucking montage.) if keith were a properly developed character he shouldve remained PASSIONATE and idk, run support?? that boy SHOULD have piloted red, end of story. period. keith doesn’t need to lead he needs to learn to TRUST others and that insludes trusting other WITH HIS LIFE. i won’t rant about how we should have had black paladin lance, but keith should have never ever been black paladin. even after he “matures” he still sucks at. he’s this awful,,little,, Shiro 2.0. and I hate it. i ahte it and i hate shiro just a little bit. even though he was arguably the most likeable character, he shouldve stayed dead. or missing. or whatever. he didn’t need to come back and they didnt need to make keith a little offbrand clone of him. i ESPECIALLY hate that they aged keith up 2 years for no goddamn reason other than to make him the Adult (tm). keith’s dedication to others was gre4at, but it should have, and im failing for this word here so forgive me, climaxed? cresscendo’d? whatever. /resulted/ in him playing support. not leader. lone wolf keith doesn’t need how to lead his pack, he needed to learn to HELP his pack. to be a TEAM PLAYER. he didn’t want the responsibility of leading bc guess what?? some people hate leading!! there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be support! keith’s entire arc is a huge mess of missed opportunities and a grand illustration that he is lm’s and jds’ favorite, just like fucking mako.

i won’t rant about mako, but just know i fucking hate him and the special treatment he gets, and good LORD does keith take over mako. keith isn’t space zuko he’s space mako and it fucking SHOWS.

okay, i’m losing steam here, but like.... so apple, why tf where u voltron 24/7 if you hated it so much? because homestuck was over and i needed a new hyperfixation. and i really had to force it for vld tbh. and at the end of the day, it wasn’t so much about the show itself as the potential of klance (or sheith, up until s3). between the interviews, the coding, the fucking EVERYTHING--it really felt like it could be canon. i knew in my heart it was queer baiting but i had HOPE dammit. hope that this could be killer representation, hope that these characters would delvelopment into something incredible. again, there was so much POTENTIAL. and all of it was wasted. everything really came to a head during the fucking game show episode. it was like lm and lds giving everyone who likes lance the middle finger, really driving home that “no no, he IS just stupid. he’s the comic releif. there’s nothing deeper about him and no one will stand up for him bc they all think of him as such.” and that just....broke my heart. we were so...SO close to lance actually mattering but nope! bolin’d again! and what was his purpose in s8? why to be an accessory to allura of course!

i’ve seen a lot of people really divorce themselves from canon and live solely for fanon, esp fanon klance but like.... i can’t. i just can’t. it’s so fucking hard to work with these cardboard characters. you can only draw so much depth onto them, you know? until the very last moments they had potential, but then it all got snuffed out. but who cares about canon? why bother with it? because! we don’t have a solid consistent fanon version of them! no one sat down and delivered the ten commandments of “here’s what we agree k and l are actually like” it’s stupid and it sucks because everyone has their own little differences and its so so tiring to basically be interacting with minutely different ocs all the goddamn time. canon matters bc it gives everyone the same base to work with. like a cooking showing with the same basket ingredients, but now it’s like.... ya’ll don’t wanna use the mandatory ingredients (and why would you? those canon ingredients are like, a century egg and spoiled sardines, they’re awful.)

okay, and im at work and just came back to this and dont remember my train of thought so like... what really threw all this into sharp clarity was the recent steven universe episodes. they were so...GOOD. so fucking good. so much plot and foreshadowing coming to a head. it was such a wonderfully satisfying payoff that it made me remember what a GOOD show is like, how vld is so very very /bad/. the difference is fucking striking. where one is an intricately woven tale with excellent character development and clear story AND character arcs, that can progress AT THE SAME TIME, one is a hacked together flaming dumpster firing that constantly falls flat and doesn’t know where its going or why. and it s so BORING! like fight scenes can be amazing! they can be well coreographed and tense! and we as the audience can be anxious about the outcome! and vld just wasn’t that! it was boring repetetive action in the least exciting way. and where su set up a lot of potential, holy shit they DELIVERED on that potential. not just for rep, but for characters! for story! for plain ol simple character interactions! and then, again, two dimensional cardboard cutouts.

and now with this difference in good vs bad show so very clearly highlighted for me, i just.... i can’t, anymore, with vld. it sucks. it sucked and i can’t pretend or force a fixation with it that just isn’t there, and truthfully, probably never was. maybe that’s why i’ve been struggling to finish my fic, struggling ever since i posted the last chapter, ever since s7, which, again, that game show was really the nail in the coffin as far as holding onto any hope that this tire fire would ever pick up. like a physically feel ill trying to finishing this stupid fic bc i don’t care so hard. i don’t care and i just... really want to be over it. im sick of seeing it everywhere, im sick of the drama, of the Discourse. like all fandoms have their issues, but hold fuck does vld fandom have a massive Purity problem. like, god, let people ship whatever. who cares. die mad about it.

like homestuck, idk if i’ll ever fully ween myself off vld but i want to move on. i want to enjoy Other Things without having this lackluster weight on my shoulders. and more than anything, i want to stop feeling like im obligated to like the same shit as i did two years ago, or last year, or hell, last week! feel free to unfollow, but yeah i just.... really needed to let this out in a proper post and not in the misc tags somewhere.

[spellcastersjudgement]

okay i’m literally obsessed i need more faithshipping !!! literally any of the numbers i just neeeeeed it

okay the froot has finished her other fanfics so she finally has the time to devote to this ask bc i have a lot of feelings abt these two and i need proper time to fully dump my feelings ™ 

since this is a Dealers Choice ask i hope yall know im gonna pick the one that allows me to dump the most headcanons on yall

i know ive already done this one before for the tutor ask but!! i love this idea and im not ashamed to do it again lmao

#30: a kiss as comfort 

Yusei was not used to Akiza waking up before him, but there was a first time for everything. 

His alarm had awoken him, making him groan and roll over, feeling on the top to hit the snooze button, rolling back over, left arm searching for Akiza, wanting to bring her back against his chest and bury his face in her hair. When his arm found only an empty bed, his eyes opened a crack, looking around the dim room for her. Empty. She must’ve gone to the kitchen, which was a huge disappointment–he had another few minutes before he had to actually get up and put his work uniform on, and he would much rather spend it cuddling with his girlfriend than laying in bed alone. 

He should go down and see her, maybe spend a few minutes on the couch together before he had to leave. Pushing himself up and rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes, the cold air of the room made him shiver, another incentive to find Akiza, warm up. 

Turning off his alarm so it wouldn’t shake the apartment, he left the bedroom. The smell of coffee greeted him, his eyes adjusting to the lights of the kitchen. His girlfriend was standing in the kitchen, staring out the window with her coffee in her hands, fully dressed and made up, her bangs braided in a crown around her head. 

That was strange. Akiza usually rolled out of bed in her nightgown. She must’ve been up a while, extricated herself from Yusei’s hold without waking him, a feat considering that he was a light sleeper. 

“Good morning, handsome,” she looked over her shoulder as he approached, lifting the steaming cup to her lips. 

“Morning,” he slid his arms around her waist, her knit cardigan warm against his bare chest and arms. 

The scene outside wasn’t terribly interesting, but Akiza was staring at the grey, cloudy buildings with such intensity Yusei wondered if he was missing something. She was tense, he could feel that from where his head rested on her shoulder, the way she was audibly swallowing, her breathing faster than normal. When he’d come in last night she’d still been awake, hunched over her laptop with her reading glasses holding her bangs back, chewing on her nails. Yusei didn’t look to see what she was doing, had only shut the computer and picked her up, teasing her for turning into a night owl like him. 

Something was bothering her, he could tell. “Missed you when I woke up, Kiki,” 

A soft laugh, a sip of coffee. “I can tell you’re not awake,” 

“Haven’t had my coffee,” he laid his hand over hers, bringing her cup to his mouth and taking a sip. She liked her coffee less sweet than he did, tipping only a bit of creamer into it. 

“You only call me Kiki when you’re half asleep,” 

“Hm, maybe I’ll have to call you that more so I won’t be so easy to read,” Yusei said. 

“I’ll have to get a nickname for you,” she said. 

“You call me handsome,” 

“That’s not a nickname, that’s an adjective,” she turned around. He loosened his hold to let her. “Even if it is true, it doesn’t count,” 

The cup between them radiated heat onto Yusei’s skin, not as warm as when Akiza had been pressed against him, but at least this way it was easier to steal the cup from her hands and drink from it. She rolled her eyes and laughed, told him to get his own cup, there was plenty left in the pot, and from the multiple coffee filters he could see in the trash can, it wasn’t the first of the morning. 

“Been awake a while?” he asked. 

She shrugged, eyes not meeting his, staring over his shoulder, anon-answer that only affirmed his feelings that something was bothering her. Nails drummed against the cup for a moment, soon back in her mouth, a habit that Carly often ragged on her about, forcibly removing her hand. Yusei closed his hand around her wrist, ignoring her annoyed glance as he kissed the back of her hand. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I’m just tired,” 

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you didn’t get up so early,” he teased. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she sighed, finally meeting his eyes. Beneath the makeup he could see a tinge of purple, her normally bright eyes red and dull. Lack of sleep was an understatement if he’d ever heard one. “Got up, got some work done,” 

“How long was that?” 

“Yusei,” she muttered, moving out of his embrace to top off her coffee. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you have work to go to?” 

“They can manage without me for a few minutes, Kiki,” he leaned against the counter, watching her move to the fridge. “Unless you want me to leave,” 

“No, Yusei–I’m sorry,” her shoulders fell. “You don’t–don’t go,” 

He watched as she stood on her tiptoes, reaching into the cabinet to retrieve a second cup. Normally he’d reach over her back and tease her about being short, but this didn’t seem like the time. Yusei Fudo would never list one of his strengths as “bedside manner,” but seeing Akiza so worked up–well her quiet, unassuming way of being upset that had developed in recent years. He’d seen her cry, scream, but that was different, over her childhood, and it seemed that after that had passed she had decided to suppress, compartmentalize. He had no interest in forcing the floodgates open, knew she wouldn’t appreciate that, but–but it was eating at him to not say anything. 

Akiza was in front of him, handing him coffee. “Time for you to wake up,” 

“Thank you,” 

She leaned against the counter next to him, laying her head on his shoulder, tracing the rim of the cup with her finger. Her hair was soft against his bare skin, tickling the slightest bit as she moved, her breath blowing across his chest. He looked down, wishing her hair was down so he could run his fingers through it but settling for an arm around her shoulders. 

“‘kiza,” he laid his cheek on her head. “What’s going on?” 

A sigh, a shake of her head, tickling his cheek. “It’s really nothing,” 

“C’mon, you can tell me,” he tightened his hold on her, running his hand up and down her upper arm, anything to make her feel comfortable enough to open up. 

“Don’t wanna bother you,” 

“You won’t be,” he insisted, putting the coffee she’d made down on the counter, grasping both of her shoulders. She looked up at him through her lashes, lip between her teeth, anxiety radiating off of her. “Something at school?” 

“No–yes, I mean,” she sighed, making the motion for pushing her bangs behind her ears out of habit–adorable, especially the blush afterwards when she realized she had nothing to brush back. “There’s, there’s this–I have a class today,” 

“It’s,” he waited for his brain cells to produce the day of the week. “It’s Wednesday, you’ve got three today,” 

“I forgot you memorize my schedule,” a laugh, a genuine one, a bit of a smile. “I think it’s cute,” 

“Don’t you change the subject,” he felt a smile coming on to his own face. “Which one is it?” 

“Postcolonial lit,” she said. 

“Should I pretend I know what that is?”

“I’ll read it to you sometime,” she offered. “I think you’d enjoy it,” 

Yusei would have to take her up on that later. Listening to Akiza’s voice, the way she change her voices for the different characters, the way she’d stop in the middle of the sentence–it was the closest thing he’d come to a religious experience, and it’d been a while since he’d listened to her read. But right now he could tell she was deflecting. “You got a paper due today? Didn’t read?” 

“Me? Not read?” she gasped. “Of course I read. I’m not going into debt for nothing,” 

“Then what is it, Kiki?” he asked. 

“You’re just calling me that to butter me up,” 

“Is it working?” 

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, it is.” She sighed, looking down at her coffee before looking back up to him. “I have a presentation today,” 

“Is that what you were working on last night?” 

“Yeah, I’d been working on it from the time I left the shop last night to the time you got home,” she said. “I’ve been over it what feels like a million times. It’s perfect, I know it, just–Yusei, don’t worry about it,” 

“You get up early to work on it again?” 

She looked exasperated at his perseverance. “Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you so I got up–about four,” 

It was now 7:30. Yusei had slept like a rock, curled himself around her and hadn’t even bothered to notice if she was feeling anxious. Certainly he should’ve seen it–

“Stop that,” Akiza said. “I didn’t want you to worry. I can see you beating yourself up,” 

“I just came home, didn’t even ask you what you were doing,” Yusei said. “I just took you away from your computer–” 

“You were tired,” she interrupted. “Don’t worry about it,” 

They were silent again, staring at each other. 

“Why are you so worried about it Akiza?” Yusei asked after a moment. 

“Professor’s uptight and this is work a third of my grade,” she said. 

Yusei could see why she’d lose sleep over that. 

“Over a third, actually. Thirty-five percent. I was complaining to Carly about professors that are lazy and don’t want to grade more than a few assignments, but that doesn’t get the work done,” she huffed. 

Her cup joined his on the counter, and soon her cheek was pressed against his sternum, her arms wrapping around his waist. “Yusei,” 

“Yeah, ‘kiza?” 

“I’m terrified it’s not enough,” 

His hands slid down her cardigan. What could he say? What could he say to convince her she would be fantastic, that the work she’d put in would pay off, that it’d be all worth it in the end? As Akiza whimpered out his name through the beginnings of tears, his heart wrenched–it’d been so very long since he’d had to hear her cry–and suddenly saying something didn’t seem like enough. 

In a moment he’d feel bad for disturbing the perfectly pinned crown braid, but presently he didn’t care, the only thing that mattered was tilting her head back, pressing a kiss to her lips. A noise of surprise came from her, he could feel her jump at the ferocity at which his lips moved, accidentally scraping her bottom lip with his teeth, running his tongue over the spot as an apology. Slowly, slowly she relaxed, her palms laying flat on his back, fingers digging in as she reciprocated, standing on her tiptoes to press back against him. 

Yusei was never good with words, wouldn’t pretend to be, but he hoped that she could feel it: his love, his belief in her, not just in school but for the future, that he would be there to comfort her, that she could tell him anything, that she didn’t need to worry about bothering him. Maybe one day he’d be eloquent enough to say this to her, but this would have to do for now. 

She dropped back on to her heels, opening her eyes, the slightest smudge of mascara on the corner of her eye. He wiped it away, accidentally poking her in the eye, apologizing as she giggled at his clumsiness. 

“Should I come watch you?” he asked. 

“You want to leave cars for books?” she giggled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. 

“Gonna cheer you on,” he said. 

Akiza smiled, her eyes shining with the remnants of unshed tears. “In that case, help me practice. Put on some clothes, handsome, we’re going to school,”