#i feel like the ending is rushed but otherwise i did enjoy writing this immensely!

[lighteyed]

can it be easy this once? / steve harrington

summary: steve accidentally gives a stupid answer to your honest question. (best friends with benefits pining idiots to lovers, fem!reader)

unedited we die like men & title from the alcott by the national ft taylor swift hehehe enjoy

It started as a means of comfort after Starcourt, when he was bloody and bruised up but you took him home and got closer, closer, closer, until it turned into a mess of blurred lines and panting breaths, lips swollen for reasons other than being hurt, for better reasons, reasons that brought forth safety and relief for the two of you. You both tend to hunger for such things. It’d been good, easy, for a bit there. Lately it’d felt like the intimacy was threatening to choke you. Like you’d never met a form of  closeness you didn’t cling to. And God, did it feel like you were clinging. Craving an unwarranted change. Was it so unwarranted? You weren’t sure, you could never tell.

    The air in his room is hot and sticky with summer, the ceiling fan providing the barest relief, your bare skin providing the slightest bit more. You stare all around his room, taking in all the stark traces of him, though in truth it doesn’t betray much, just as he attempts to. It’s a plain room, plaid walls, matching curtains, his desk messy and cluttered, all the dresser’s drawers slightly ajar like he spent a touch too long shuffling through all his clothes to determine which outfit would be best, which, knowing him in the way you do, he probably did. You knew he wasn’t as secure as he liked everyone to believe. Steve Harrington tried his best, but sometimes you saw right through him.

     Other times he was harder to read. It was probably purposeful, layers of protection built around himself. Don’t love anyone, don’t let anyone love you, and you won’t get hurt. People can only hurt you if you let them. Steve wasn’t letting anyone anymore. Definitely not his parents, definitely not Nancy Wheeler, definitely not random girls who would inevitably end up disappointed with him. He swore it all off. He was a hopeless romantic who never wanted to be in love again. You understood it for the most part. Or you attempted to. It was hard when you were halfway (maybe more than halfway) in love with the guy, in his bed most nights, in his company most days, acting like a couple without being an established couple because he was too hesitant and you were too gentle to be pushy.

    He nudges you lightly, naked chest peeking up from his covers, naked everything else kept firmly underneath. “You okay? You’re quiet.” He sits up so he’s level with you, and you avoid eye contact by leaning down toward the floor to grasp for the shirt he let you borrow, a faded Spider-Man one he insisted was from middle school. You didn’t entirely believe him, but maybe it was just funny, and kind of sweet, to picture Steve sleeping in a Spider-Man shirt and keeping it a secret just for himself. You pull the shirt on over your head, and before you can do it for yourself, he reaches for your hair and takes it out from where it’s caught under the shirt. The familiarity of it makes you flinch. You can have sex with him all you want but God forbid he’s the slightest bit loving outside of that. It confuses you, the softness in the touches that aren’t in bed with him. If he holds your hand in any context other than bringing you as into him as possible while he slips himself in and out, you lose all sense of normalcy between the two of you. You can’t be normal when he’s holding your hand and stroking your cheeks and being kind, soft, adoring Steve, without being your Steve.

     “I’m fine, I’m just…” You reach for your shorts at the end of the bed. Steve watches you get dressed with his eyebrows scrunched together, confused. You’re not usually in a rush to leave after you have sex. Not that he wants you to. He likes that you stay until day sinks into night and he drives you home and waits to repeat it all again. Waits to see you, generally. And it’s not sex every single time. You drag him to see whatever’s playing at the Hawk and he makes you sit with him at Family Video on slow days when it’s just him on the clock and a single tumbleweed blows through the store instead of any customers. He drives you just about anywhere you ask and he lets you put on any cassettes you want in his car even if he hates what’s playing. It’s nice, the friendship part of all of it. If you had to give everything else up and just keep the friendship you’d be willing. He’d be willing. You consider it. “Nothing, just tired, probably gonna head home,” you smile at him over your shoulder before pulling on your socks and it’s half-hearted and he knows it.

    “What? You can sleep here, you know that,” he waves a hand around the room, trying to catch your gaze, but you avoid his eyes again. Descending light slants in through the curtains and envelopes him in gold. He glows, he’s so pretty. His hair is messy from where you heatedly ran your hands through it, but it still looks nearly perfect. The fact that he always looks so good infuriates you.

    “No yeah, I know, I wanna like shower and stuff too, and I left my new book at home and I wanted to do some reading,” you bluff calmly, standing up from tangled bedsheets and roaming the room in search of your sneakers.

   “That Stephen King scary clown book? I’ll take you home and you can come back and read it here, so you don’t get scared,” and he knows you won’t get scared and that you love horror far more than he ever could but he just really, really doesn’t want to be alone. Why would you go when everything’s right here? His parents aren’t home and something about you leaving makes him antsy and desperate. When you still refuse to look at him he feels himself, his confidence, growing smaller and smaller. “Did I- did I do something?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound as pathetic as it does.

   You whip around to face him, finally, finally, and touch a hand to his face. Relief floods through him at the heat of your fingers. “No, of course not, it’s all me, okay? I’m all sweaty and awful.”

    “You look beautiful, I swear,” he squeezes your hand and you feel like you’re drowning. It’s hard to breathe, your chest tight. “Are you sure you’re okay? You can talk to me, it’s me.” He scoots closer, if that’s possible. “You’re one of my best friends, we tell each other everything.” You look up toward the ceiling, inwardly groaning. Best friend.

   “You do this with all your best friends?”  

    “Well, no, Robin wouldn’t touch me even if she didn’t like girls-“ He feels himself starting to grin, teasing smile lilting at his lips.

     “Steve!” You’re laughing a little and so is he as you push his arm back. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

    “What’d you mean, then?” He’s still smiling, that entrancing, deliberately pouty, lazy smile. Vaguely smirky. You don’t know if it’s deliberate, a ploy to distract you, con you into staying, make you less prone to saying what you want to say, but you press anyway, even though he’s making you want to lean forward and endlessly kiss the smirk off his mouth.

   “I just think, I don’t know… you’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

   “’Course not, why, you got other plans after this?” He grins again. You roll your eyes. He makes it so hard sometimes.

    “Steve,” you whine, “I’m so serious right now.”

    “Okay, okay. No, you’re the only one for me.” He means it. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard. “Are you seeing anyone else?” He asks you like it’s the easiest question in the world for him to ask but honestly he’s shitting his pants a little. He’s not sure what’d he say if you said yes, I am, and I think we should end this, which is where he’s assuming the conversation is going. You’ve got we shouldn’t do this anymore written all over you in his eyes and he’s steeling himself for the heartbreak.

     “Does it look like I am?”

     “Does it look like I am?” He repeats back, and he reaches for your hand in that too intimate way of his, takes it all careful and slow. “What’s this about?”

     “I just, I just think, that, you know, I’m not seeing anyone, and you’re not seeing anyone, but we’re sorta… seeing each other, yeah?” You gesture between the two of you. He nods. He’s staring at you very intensely, waiting for you to get your words out. He’s still waiting for you to say you think this whole thing has been a very bad mistake, a miscalculated judgement on your part, you should go back to the way things were, so he’s not expecting what comes out of you next. “Shouldn’t we be, like, official, then?”

     And instead of throwing up all the ways he so badly would love for that to happen, he chokes out, because he’s stupid and speechless, “Official?” And the way he says it, like it’s a curse when it’s only his disbelief that you’d want that with him after all this time, makes you immediately go into panic mode.

    He quite literally sees the way you lose any sense of confidence in your question and he immediately tries to take it back as you stand from his side and start trying to force your words back in your mouth, too. “Fuck, forget I said anything,” you mumble, spying your shoes shoved under his desk where you’d comfortably kicked them off. You hasten to put them on as Steve scrambles up from the bed and starts dressing, matching your frantic speed.

    “Hey, wait, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that-“

     “It’s fine, Steve, I get it, I totally do, this isn’t that for you, it’s fine-“

      “It is, it is-“ but you’re not hearing him, your mind is already elsewhere. It’s in your own bed in the quiet, alone with your thoughts and not with him, mercifully not with him. You need this one mercy, “I’ll drive you home, babe, c’mon, I’ll explain everything, please-“

    “I got it, it’s fine, I’m fine, you don’t have to explain, okay? I got it,” and you don’t just walk out of his house and down the block to yours, you absolutely flee. You take Steve’s heart with you.

      He’s pacing the floor behind the register at Family Video three days and three shifts later, practically clawing at the walls of the place, and Robin is pulling her hair out at the sight of him in distress this way.

     “What did you do?” She finally breaks, flipping her magazine shut.

      “What? How do you know it was me?” He stops pacing. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.

       “You’ve had three shifts and she hasn’t visited one single time. She always visits. And I know I didn’t do anything wrong, because I never do anything wrong, so, what’d you do?” Robin places her hand under his chin and stares at him expectantly.

      He huffs, his hands on hips. “Maybe she did something, Robin, did you ever think of that?”

     “Definitely not,” Robin retorts, waiting for Steve to be serious.

      He deflates. “Okay, it was me.”

      “I know that, now continue.”

      “We were, you know,” he tilts his head down and raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes.

     “Having sex, sure,” Robin bobs her head. A customer in the nearest aisle frowns and shuffles toward a different section further away from the two of them.

     Steve shushes her. “I wasn’t trying to say it so loud.”

    “Having sex,” Robin repeats, louder this time, not bothering to fight back a laugh at Steve’s exasperated expression, “continue.”

      “Well, after that, she started asking if, if I was seeing anyone, which of course I’m not, because, you know, I’m into her, obviously, so I told her I wasn’t, and she said she wasn’t, so she said maybe we should be official.” Steve hesitates to say the rest of what happened. He still can’t believe all he could do when you said the words was repeat them back to you with that stupid look on his face instead of giving you the biggest, loudest declaration of love in a big, messy, pathetic, devoted way, the way he pictures himself when it comes to you, messy and pathetic and devoted, and he replays that moment back to himself all day long, thinking of everything else he could’ve said to make you understand.

    “That’s what you want, isn’t it? She’s all you talk about all day long, you want to be with her, don’t you?”

    “Of course I do!” He snaps, dragging a hand across his face. “But when she said it I just couldn’t get the words out and she got, she got so sad and she left without me being able to explain anything and she hasn’t answered the phone which, yes, I’ve been calling, and I don’t know how to do this.” He’d never been good at school but he knew he’d get a Grade A in Pitiful.

    “Do what? Tell a girl you love her? You’ve been in relationships before, Steve.”

    “I know, but…” he sighs. “I’m different now, like, it’s not as easy anymore, for me, and I- I don’t want her to get hurt, and I don’t want to get hurt, it’s like, everything used to be my fault, and I wasn’t as good as I could have been, and I don’t want to break anything, I don’t want it to get fucked up, because it’ll be my fault, and I can’t do that again. Not to her.” He swallows, the words harder to come by than he would care to admit. “I’m a little… I’m a little in love with her, I think.” This is said quietly. It frightens him to say it out loud. He’s gone over it in his head, those words, so few of them, but they say so much, and it’s scary. He hasn’t said them to someone in years. The last time he did he got so brutally hurt he thought he’d never recover. But he had. So why was it still so scary?

    “A little bit?” Robin teases, but it’s all love for him, truly.

    “Alright, a lot in love,” he concedes. He wants to get used to saying it. He wants to say it to you. For real. Loudly. “I still don’t know how to do this, though. Not anymore.”

   “Come on!” Robin gets up from her stool and places her hands on his shoulders. “You’re supposed to be Steve Harrington. You were using those…” she pauses for a beat and then, “charms,” the word is said with the smallest hint of sarcasm but she persists nonetheless, “on tons of girls in high school and at Scoops! Now whip them out again for our very nice friend that you sometimes go to town with!”

   “When did any of those charms,” he says it with a matching sarcastic tone, “work aside from when I was sixteen and an idiot?”

   “You might not be sixteen anymore but you’re still an idiot, if that helps.”

    “It doesn’t but thank you for the encouragement.”

    “I’m just saying!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up and returning back to her seat. “Putting yourself out there is always gonna be scary, but you can’t let that stop you. You’d actually be an idiot if you let that stop you. Are you just never gonna see her again? No, because you’d go insane. It’s not like what you did was all that bad anyway.”

    “You really think so?” He perks up a bit, needing that confirmation that he isn’t a totally awful and irredeemable person. It’s easy for him to fall headfirst into that spiral of thinking. It was a trap set with the most accessible, perfect bait and he somehow always found himself walking straight into it without stopping to think if he was being fair to himself.

    “You’ve both been in bad spots, you reacted the way you did and she reacted the way she did out of what was most likely panic and embarrassment. She’s definitely not even mad at you. Probably just, again, embarrassed. If you explain I think it’ll all be okay, Steve, I swear.” Robin can’t take much more of this conversation circling around, as much as she loves Steve and wants to be there for him, she would love him even more if he acted on his feelings and allowed himself some happiness for once.  “So do you think you can you, like, maybe go tell her so she can keep visiting us at work? I need more company than just you and Keith and these customers with no taste,” she complains, glaring at the closed door that hides Keith, in all his absolute glory. The customer from before hears her comment and storms out. Robin rolls her eyes.

    “Right, yeah, tell her I love her, tell my best friend I love her,” he frowns, nerves creeping up the back of his neck. “Maybe you could just call her first and ask-“

     “Steve! I am not meddling in your love life like that when you already know everything there is to know!” She throws her magazine at him. “She said she wants to be with you, go be with her!”

    “Alright, alright!” He waves his hands dismissively. He begins to pace again, this time his eyes held to the clock. Robin groans. There’s still three hours left of their shift.

     You’re in your room wallowing, or doing what’d you call attempting not to wallow but failing at it miserably. You haven’t touched a single page of your book, mostly content to just listen to sad records and more or less stare at the wall. It was stupid, you knew, to behave in such a way over some guy. But it didn’t feel like some guy. It was Steve, after all. It all felt deeper than just some guy. You two had been through a lot together, more than most people have been, and if you’d just ruined your friendship with someone you always felt safe, felt at home with, over feelings you couldn’t control and probably would be better off not having, you were going to need some serious therapy.

     It probably was silly of the two of you to start this thing up anyway, you reason, fighting back your urge to do any further crying into a pillow. You try to focus on painting your nails a nice shade of dark blue but it reminds you of Steve’s old Scoops uniform and of that night (and all that nights that followed) so you stop in the middle of your second thumb and grab nail polish remover and start scrubbing away at your finished right hand.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you mutter, the cotton ball in your hand soaked through with blue and your nails discolored and muddy. “I am ridiculous,” you say to yourself, shaking off your wet hand. Your room is filled with the smell of acetone and disappointment. You think about lighting a candle when your doorbell rings. You debate answering it before it rings again. And then again. And again, more frenzied this time.

    You open the door to a distressed Steve. His cheeks are red and he’s breathing like he can’t anymore. He’s not the multi-star athlete he was in high school, he realizes in this moment. “Did you- did you just run here from work?” You ask him, but he’s already too close to you, not answering your question, gazing at you because simply looking isn’t enough and has never been enough. He is gazing. He is flush with adoration. It’s hard not to bloom under that radiance. He makes you want to forget everything and go back to plush lips on hot skin and the quiet contentment that came alongside being with him in those first few months. You back up a little into your doorway but he steps up to you, following your steps. “Where’s your car-“

    “Forget that for a sec,” he says, and you stop talking out of surprise. “Just, just tell me if we do this it’ll be okay, and we won’t be terrible for each other, and we’ll be good,” because he needs to hear it, even if it’s ridiculous and he’s jinxing it before it’s begun he needs to know you’re right there with him. “Like, just tell me it can be easy this once. If you broke my heart I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. ‘Cause I love you. I do. And I want this.” And you get it. He’s letting you get it. He’s letting you all the way in. You realize, flustered and basking in it, that he’s the first one to say those words. That you hadn’t even said them when you posed your first question. But he’s saying them out loud and it’s brilliant and beautiful. He is beautiful.

    It makes you want to weep, the love that swells here, out in the open. “Fuck, Steve, what type of girl do you think I am, breaking the heart of the guy I’ve been in love with since he started sneaking into my bedroom?” He smiles. He glows. It’s so beautifully Steve. Maybe it can be easy.

    When he kisses you, he proves it: the ease, the tranquility. He is fervent and burning. Everything is urgent with Steve. Especially kissing. He captures every bit of you immediately. His touch is light when he urges you out of your doorway and into your living room so he can shut your front door and quit giving the neighbors what he’s sure is the show of a lifetime. It is for him, at least.

[ostdreamseeker]

could you do a fic about luke hemmings dating someone’s who’s just always sleepy (as a fellow sleepy girl 😓) ? like maybe she’s on tour with him and he comes backstage after soundcheck or something to find you napping on the couch in his dressing room

Okay, this one was fun, I enjoyed writing something so soft

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Downtime

Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 805

Tags: Dialogue heavy towards the end, just fluff otherwise

Disclaimer: this is fiction and not intended to be an actual depiction of these people, their actions or their relationships in real life

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It felt like Luke had been busy all day, soundcheck, wardrobe, soundcheck again, make-up, you name it, he was in and out of every room in the stadium and you’d barely seen him since lunch, such a busy man.

Both Michael and Ashton had popped by Luke’s dressing room a few times to check how you were doing or drop off a small snack, which you loved to no end. They’d explained why Luke was so held up all day and you understood completely, you’d kept yourself entertained with you phone and some magazines anyway, plus all the commotion in the halls was quite entertaining so you opted to open the door and people watch for a while.

There was still a while until stage, you’d seen Luke rush past a few times and wave quickly in the door, sometimes blowing a small kiss to you on his way past. His love was still immense and warm even if so fleeting, it could warm you for hours, making you feel all fuzzy and cozy inside, a feeling that could put someone right to sleep.

And that it did.

Finally, Luke was all ready for the stage, his make up was all done and he was perfectly sparkly and looked even more perfect than he usually did. He had enough time to stop by for a short while before he had to be in the spotlight, pushing the door that someone else must’ve pulled across open his heart was warmed immediately. You were all curled up on the couch, somewhere between nice and cozy and ‘definitely just fell asleep sitting up’ with one of his hoodies that he had to discard hours ago pulled over you. As peaceful as you looked, he needed attention before he went on stage, those nerves really never did go away after all.

“(y/n).”

He gently shook your shoulder as he sat down beside you.

“Psst, (y/n).”

You slowly stirred with a while and a rub to your eyes, your gaze meeting Luke’s as he brushed a stray piece of hair from your face. You wouldn’t help but smile, a soft pink dusting it’s way over your cheeks as you gazed at him fondly.

“Have a nice nap?” 

He got as cozy as he could with you without ruining his stage wear, he didn’t need wardrobe on the warpath with him again, he’d been in and out of there enough today. His shoulder was warm against you and you couldn’t help but slip your head onto his shoulder anyway.

“Yeah, Mikey and Ash brought me snacks too.”

You gestured towards a near empty box of chocolate chip cookies beside a couple of empty chip packets, prompting Luke to snatch a cookie and scarf it down, even if it did mess with his lipstick. That was the one thing that was probably going to be a mess before he left the room anyway. 

“Good, glad they’re taking care of you.”

His smile rivalled yours, looking at you just as fondly as you did him. You were so lucky to have such an amazing man, he truly always made time for you and loved you to no end, you could only do the same for him. Soon the fond staring contest was over as he brushed a couple of stray cookie crumbs from his thigh and stood up, moving to the center of the room before doing a very exaggerated spin and striking a pose for you at the end.

“Alright, princess, how do I look?”

You giggled at his spin, the little fashion show was great, you felt so lucky getting to see him like this, even if thousands of people were also about to experience him in t he same outfit, something about this just felt so intimate and nice, you got a special little preview and a small little show for just yourself. You made your way over to him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek which he quickly redirected to plant on his lips instead, existing purely in your touch for a moment until you both moved away and he brushed a stray sparkle off your cheek.

“Fantastic, as usual Luke.”

“Good, good, glad my personal outfit reviewer approves.”

Soon a sharp tone came through his earpiece and his eyes quickly made contact with the analog clock on the wall.

“Sorry love, it’s showtime, I’ve gotta go.”

He scruffed your hair and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, admiring you again for a moment before making his way to the door.

“Look after yourself.”

“I will, blow ‘em away Lukey!”

He blew a kiss your way with a cheeky smile as he moved through the doorway. 

“You know I will!”

And there you just sat again, amazed with how lucky and honoured you were to be his

[owlf45]

@runnibabbi

have a direction: there are a range of writers with different preferences when it comes to planning a fic, from nothing at all to outlines with immense detail for every scene. generally speaking, no matter what, have a direction towards an end goal of where you want your fic to be. you might change things up, spontaneously decide new things, add new characters, change canon around, do quirky stylistic choices—but you must have an 'end goal'. why? because otherwise, you might write yourself into a corner in a way you can't take back, or you take a break and forget where you're going (unintentionally disrupting your story's flow), or you lose your goal halfway through. don't just rewrite all the canon events 'just cause'. have an end. maybe you dont have everything in the middle planned out, but having an end means that when things get tough (hard scene, difficulty writing, burnt out, writer's block) you know where you're going.

notes: notes are not for everyone, but if youre working or a student, the last thing you want to do is go back to finally writing only to realize with horror you dont remember what you were going to do for the scene. jot down your notes, all of them, even if theyre in shorthand. they dont have to be pretty, they just have to work.

jump on it: it might seem really hard to do slowburn, but youll be surprised how wordy you can get real fast. dont rush to reveal everything at once, but dont feel pressured to spend five chapters building up to the introduction of your plot or characters. if you feel yourself dragging, pick up the pace.

pace yourself: write frequently and take breaks frequently. it's easier to write, especially to write for a project, when its fresh and youre writing a lot. your mental health comes first, obviously— when i say frequently, i dont mean let it take over your life. but *do* write. writing is a skill, not a talent, and it requires practice

talk about it: talk with friends, readers, and your community. write with others. talk about it! keep your excitement high. talking about your ideas keeps it fresh and in your brain. also, talking about it helps flesh your ideas out. find a group you trust to have fun with.

if you get stuck on a scene, skip it. if you can't, start it from a different POV, or in the middle instead of at the beginning, or maybe even at the end of the scene before you rewind.

listen to yourself: writing is an intimate dance with your brain. sometimes you have to tango your attention back on track so you can finish the damn chapter. but if you're not feeling the flow, there's probably a reason for it—and if it's preventing you from writing at a decent pace, try and troubleshoot what about your writing you're not vibing with. sometimes steamrolling ahead works. sometimes you need to really think about it

i said think, not agonize: dont agonize over your fic bestie, just write the damn thing and post it. it may not be how you envisioned it but that doesnt mean its not good

delete your art!: if youre new to fic writing, this will come eventually. but, dont feel pressured to keep everything you write. if you wrote a chapter but its put a huge damper on your fic and you dont know how youre going to continue... you dont have to post it for an arbitrary deadline or audience. delete your art, mourn it, savor it, and write (and rewrite) your work as many times as you need to to be happy with it

watch/read the source material: nothing quite like to get your gears turning than rewatching the source material. fanon can muddle your vibes. reacquaint yourself with the reason youre writing for the fandom in the first place

write

write

write

kill

write

write

did i mention start writing yet?: no seriously. just start writing, and keep writing. write things that are exciting, write things that make you laugh, write things that challenge you. i can tell you tons of advice, but really, the most important thing is... have fun. enjoy yourself. and write. theres no magic trick or hack.

hi owl! I cracked and started writing a fic for bnha >_< any tips on how to get traction for it?

like traction for writing consistently or traction from an audience?

[youn9racha]

Impenetrable

pairing: lee know x afab!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: you challenged minho to do something you knew he wouldn't fail, but did so otherwise just for the sake of him putting you into place.

warning: fingering, cunnilingus, implications of brat (reader) and brat tamer (minho), implied d/s, squirting, minho being cocky at the end

words: 869

a/n: this felix fic is gonna be the death of me, so i decided to put it on hold and just publish a quick one like this in the meantime. intially I wanted this to be a seungmin fic (since i barely write fics for him), but i though Minho's fitting, so maybe i'll cook up something with seungmin if im still uninterested on putting out that felix fic... we'll wait and see.

This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. And if you are under 18 years of age, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT. Readers discretion is advised.

“Betcha can’t make me cum without your cock.” You proclaimed, challenge laced on your tone and body language by having a sinister smile and crossing your arms.

“Oh, is that so?” Minho smirked, looking at you almost mimicking your current mannerism. You nodded back, almost confidently, “Damn, right so, your hands and tongue got no match.”

You were teasing; both of you knew that what you were saying is full of shit. But you just wanted to get something out of him, you wanted him to reveal his salacious side of him, and you wanted to get it out of him in the form of a challenge. Outright degrading his skills and starting to falsify his bedroom skills just to push off the edge was one way to approach, however, Minho was not that easy to anger. His calm demeanor almost always overshadows any resentful emotions, instead resorting to other ways of detoxifying his anger in the form of self-pleasure or using you for pleasure.

And with this case, he opted to accept this challenge, with in return, you had to endure many rounds and there is no backing down—unless necessary—which you ultimately agreed.

And it leads to the current time, where Minho lays himself between your thighs, slowly licking up your slit while your naked body squirms along the bedsheet from Minho’s teasing licking and keening at the sensation of him tasting every bit of you. Minho raised his eyes at you, observing your pleasured state admirably and condescendingly as the lap of his tongue began to increase in pace and occasionally sucked and kissed your clit, making you whimper louder.

“Ah! Minho…” you exclaimed, followed by a gasp as Minho spread your legs further and held your hips down from the constant squirming. He groaned as he sensed more of your nectar coming out, sucking it all in to not leave a drop out of his tongue before it diverts its attention back to the bundle of nerves. He enjoyed the flavor you are giving him, and he clearly would love to have more of it from the eventual addition of his digits.

His middle and ring finger inserted itself inside your open, wet slit, engulfing itself between your plush walls, whining at the slight yet pleasant stretch he gave you; exactly what he wants to hear. He could already feel the blood rushing down his cock as it starts to tighten around his boxers, but he isn’t pulling it out just yet, he wants to make sure that he gets your juices all around his face and his fingers, he wants to make sure he can get his prize before he shows it to you and humiliate you with it.

His digits started to move and began thrusting themselves in and out of you while his tongue created shapes along your clit, lightly nibbling it from time to time. Minho’s having his time with you satiating his appetite and extracting more of your juices and noises, while you were writhing, struggling to keep your legs wide open from the immense pleasure rushing through your entire body. Had it not for Minho’s incredible strength to keep it wide, you’d suffocated him, which he doesn’t mind, but at this instant, he wants to put you in your place.

“M-Minho… I’m so fucking close…” you mewled and squeezed your eye shut as you felt a bubbling hot sensation in your stomach that is about to erupt.

He knows that and he could tell just from the sheer movements and your head shake that you were about to come all over his face, but he showed no sign of slowing down. Instead, he pulled his mouth out of your clit, while continuing to finger you at a rapid speed that leaves you yelping and wriggling.

“Come then…”

He softly, yet sneeringly, before continuing his assault on your pussy, leaving you squealing and shaking as you felt your high was approaching. Just a few more pumps and lick, and suddenly the noises of squelching began increasing in volume, matching up the speed that Minho’s fingers were going as you spilled yourself all over his chin, and the bedsheet. He wanted to continue but seeing how he won the bet you two had, he didn’t want to lose the energy so he had to get his fingers out of you as you came down, licking his fingers to have more of what was left. It didn’t set in that you came in perhaps the most powerful way until you opened your eyes, stood yourself up, and saw his glistening smirk and the dark stain underneath you.

You began feeling flustered, not only because you lost the bet, but you literally spilled yourself all over the bed, which isn’t the first time, and you proved Minho right; he can indeed make you cum without his cock.

Since you lost your bet, you can only look up to Minho’s menacing smile as he began to strip off his clothes to nothing, “I told you’re gonna lose…” he stated while he was stripping off his boxers, revealing his angry and hard cock standing up straight to demand relief.

“Now… onto my reward.”

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

wait draco fucking his arranged marriage wife on a couch after she admitted to still seeing her ex (not knowing he has feelings for her obviously) and he’s like oh? can he fuck you like this tho?

pairing: draco malfoy x reader 

warning(s): 18+, adultery, arranged marriage, slight degradation

word count: 3.0k 

a/n: this was not supposed to be this long but it ran away from me as i started writing. this is the longest thing i’ve written on tumblr so far and i hope you all enjoy it! one of my own person favorites. 

Another day felt like another day wasted in the walls in the stuffy Manor you called home. Except it wasn’t home. And it wasn’t another day. 

No. After weeks of trying to get your husband to open up to you, you had had enough. It was an arranged marriage, and although you were no fool and had no pretenses of pretending to love him, you’d at least like to get to know the person you called your husband. 

Back in school you had always thought the infamous Draco Malfoy was rather handsome, anyone would be a fool to deny it. He was confident and popular, great at Quidditch, and seemed like the perfect gentleman - everything you could want in a husband. Turns out it was the opposite. All the feelings you thought you might develop for him were unrequited, and he ignored you at every turn. 

So you took it into your own hands to get what you were so desperately craving: physical affection. It didn’t take much, truly. All you did was send an owl to your ex boyfriend from your school days and one thing led to another until you were in his bed, wrapped in his arms, and rocked to your core with pleasure. 

But now you were back in your ‘home’, wasting away within the walls of the Manor with your husband nowhere to be found. 

It wasn’t until hours later, when you were getting ready to push yourself up from the couch to head to bed, did the fireplace flash green, signaling his arrival home. 

“Hello. How was your day?” You asked politely, hoping just this once he might fall into a normal conversation with you. 

“Fine,” he replied shortly, not even bothering to look at you as he emptied his pockets and put down his very important briefcase that was a mystery to you. 

A blaze of frustration ran through your body, desperate to get more out of this man than just one word. A crazy thought came into your head, to tell him about your day, but you pushed it aside. No, Malfoy’s wouldn’t think highly of a girl who committed adultery within weeks of marriage. But…

“My day was great,” you told him, rather impulsively. 

At first he seemed shocked that you even said anything, the conversation usually reached its end by now. But he recovered quickly, politely asking “And what was so great about your day?” 

Naturally, you could lie. Tell him you met up with your female friends for lunch. Tell him you read a good book. Tell him anything but the truth. But… 

“I reacquainted myself with my ex boyfriend from school,” you told him, daring to look him in the eye as you spoke. 

“Reacquainted? How?” He asked, a series of emotions flashing over his face that you had never seen before. It sent a thrill through you to see him showing any emotions at all. 

Again, you could lie. Tell him you met him for lunch. Tell him that you ran into each other in Diagon Alley. Tell him anything but the truth. But… 

You knew even if the truth did come out, he would have to keep it a secret. He wouldn’t dare be seen as a spineless cuckold as his wife went around sleeping with whomever she pleased. 

“I owled him a few days ago, asking to meet him,” you began, watching as his face contorted into something akin to anger. “I went to his home, for lunch, and it didn’t end with lunch.” 

You left the end of your short story rather ambiguous, wanting to see what he’d do with the information you presented him. He had barely moved from his place by the fireplace, but the look he was giving you could set you up in flames if he wanted it to. 

“So, what? You fucked him?” He asked, the politeness in his voice giving way to the anger he was feeling. 

In a sick way, it pleased you to see him angry. Gave you a sense of pride that you, the wife he had seen fit to ignore, could get such a rise out of him. 

“Yes, seeing as you haven’t even touched me,” was your spiteful reply, foolishly placing the blame all on him despite your own actions. 

“You stupid, silly little girl,” he said under his breath as he stalked over towards you, menacing in just how much bigger he was than you. “You don’t fucking understand a thing about me, do you?” He asked, hovering over you, his hands braced on the back of the couch that you were still seated on, your faces inches apart. 

“You don’t let me. You never speak to me,” you argued, ready to turn this into a fight filled with low blows if he really wanted it to go that way. 

“You think this is a fucking walk in the park for me? Having some girl I’ve barely met in my house looking terrified of me every time I come near her? Suffering through your daily attempts to talk to me, but knowing how unbearably uncomfortable you are in being here? You think I wanted this? For either of us?” He asked seamlessly, almost in a rush to get all of his thoughts out before he thought better of it. A look of hesitation passed his face for a brief moment before he continued on, more quietly now. “You think I wanted the girl I couldn’t take my eyes off for a single day after fifth year hating being in my presence? Going behind my back to fuck someone else because I’ve held myself back in case she was uncomfortable doing anything more than just acting like my wife?” 

He didn’t meet your eye at first, but when he did you saw the weight of his emotions. He was hurt, by himself and by you. He was jealous of the man you had chosen to spend your day with. He was terrified of your reaction to his words. He was furious he even had to have this conversation, in this way, in this situation. He was relieved he finally got it all out. 

“Wh- What are you saying?” You asked cautiously, not wanting to twist his words to meet your own fantasy of having a loving husband. 

He took a deep breath before he answered, but made no moves to rid himself of his proximity to you. “Y/N, I’ve been head over heels for you since the moment we met. But having an arranged marriage, I couldn’t do much more but assume you didn’t share the same feelings as me.” 

“Oh,” was all you could even say back, too overwhelmed to think of anything else. You searched his eyes for the lie, but they held nothing but the raw truth. He must have seen something in your eyes as well, because his tone shifted into something else entirely before he spoke again. 

“Now, Y/N, I think we got off on the wrong foot and I didn’t make my intentions clear with you. I intend to be a good husband, a loving husband. And yet despite my best efforts to be the perfect gentleman so far, you went behind my back to sleep with some other man. And what does that say about you?” He asked, his eyes boring into yours as he spoke. 

You were sure he could hear your heart rate from how close he was, your pulse racing at his words. “I- I don’t know,” you stuttered, willing to let him take this wherever he saw fit. 

“I’m not going to place the blame all on you, because I know I haven’t been perfect. But one might say that you’re a dumb little whore, and I might be inclined to agree. A stupid, little girl trapped in her big, posh Manor. Going out to let any guy fuck her, not even knowing that her husband can fuck her better than anyone else could.” 

“And you could fuck me better than someone I know can?” You asked incredulously, shocked at the words spilling from his mouth. But even if you tried, you couldn’t deny the way he was so sure of himself, so sure he could please you better than any man, aroused you to no end. 

He let out a dark chuckle and looked at you, amused. “Of course I could, darling. That is, if you give me the chance,” he told you in a teasing tone, before pushing himself off of the couch to walk away. 

“Wait,” you started, once again acting on impulse. You might regret your next words, but damn it if you weren’t curious. And he was your husband after all. “Prove it.” 

“Prove it?” He asked, turning on his heel to face you again, a victorious grin written across his face. When you nodded, he only lifted a brow before he continued. “Now? Haven’t you had a long day of, oh how did you put it, ‘getting reacquainted with your ex’?” 

“You talk a big game, Draco. Now I’m asking you to prove it. Scared?” You asked, baiting him. 

In a split second and a flurry of movement later, he had you laying down against the couch, pressed into the expensive fabric, with his weight on top of you, pinning you down.  

“I’ll give you one last chance to back out of this. Tell me now, otherwise I’m going to fuck you through this couch,” he said through gritted teeth, clearly fed up with your antics. 

Without even thinking, your lips crashed onto his in a heated kiss. Lips you hadn’t felt since your wedding day. You hadn’t even remembered what they felt like until his tongue was darting along your bottom lip, hastily requesting entry. 

As your kiss remained heated, he was expertly shedding you both of your clothing until you were almost bare. He had only left you in your small, lace thong in the aftermath of his destruction. 

His hands traveled your body possessively, as if trying to memorize every curve and edge of your skin. The moment your bra came off, your breasts were in his hands, easily rolling your nipples until you were gasping for air. He swallowed all your noises greedily, as if you were feeding them to a starved man. 

It wasn’t until he pulled away, his hands resting on the waistband on your underwear, did you have a moment for a coherent thought. 

“One last time, are you sure Y/N?” He asked as if it was painful for him. As if it was the case that you said no, it would be immensely difficult for him to pull himself away. As if it was the case that you said no, he’d die a painful death at your feet. 

“I’m sure,” you said softly, not wanting him to think for a second that you had any hesitant thoughts about this moment. 

As he slowly pulled down your final layer of clothing, it gave you a chance to finally look at him.

And he was beautiful. 

He looked like an ancient Greek statue, perfectly carved and crafted out of marble come to life. His perfectly defined lines, his impossible definition, his muscles in all the right places. Your eyes eventually traveled down to his cock, and your breath hitched when you finally saw how large he was. If you had known this all along, perhaps you wouldn’t have sought out another man for your pleasure. 

He seemed to be taking you in just the same. His eye trailing down your body with such reverence that you felt like an ancient Greek goddess yourself, if only for a moment. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he said softly, almost as if he didn’t mean for you to hear the words. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, giving him a shy smile when his eyes met yours again. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time,” he told you, still in the soft tone that he had. He gracefully let his body fall back over yours, bracing himself on one forearm while his other hand traveled the length of your body. 

When he caught your lips again, it didn’t hold the same heat as before, but there was something new there. Something good. Something that could only be translated through your lips in that very moment. Something akin to adoration, worship, even love. 

His hand stopped its travels at the apex of your thighs, expertly running his fingers over your clit and down your slit, feeling for himself just how wet you were. He groaned at the feeling of how wet and warm you were, and you felt his cock twitch against your stomach in anticipation. 

He slowly opened you up for him with his fingers. First with one, then two, even venturing to three before he was content that you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. He didn’t rush the process, kept a slow, steady, predictable pace as he worked your body. And every time you got close to the edge, he’d gently bring you back down, leaving you a whining, writhing mess by the time he was aligning his cock with you. 

“Draco, please,” you begged shamelessly, more than ready for him. 

“Did you beg for him earlier?” He asked almost nonchalantly, teasing you with the tip of his cock. 

He must have seen the shock on your face, shocked that he would bring it up in this moment, because he only chuckled before pushing inside of you, a gasp easily pulled from your lips at the intense stretch. 

He didn’t fuck you gently, immediately starting with a breakneck pace that left you seeing stars from the first moment he bottomed out. You were easily rewarding him with your moans, letting him know just how good it felt without words. You couldn’t speak even if you tried. 

But he talked. Oh, yes. He ran that pretty mouth of his as if he wasn’t thrusting so deep inside of you the couch was rocking. 

“I was right, wasn’t I? You’ve never been fucked like this, have you?” He asked, right as you were beginning to climb that peak into a pleasurable abyss. 

You gave him a feeble nod in return, not trusting your own mouth to properly respond. 

“Did he fuck you like this?” He asked, biting the question out through clenched teeth as if he was dreading the answer. “Tell me, Y/N, did he?” He asked, fucking you even harder now in his frustration. 

“No,” you cried out, breaking free of your moans for a second to answer him. “He can’t fuck me like this,” you added, if only to stroke Draco’s ego, but nevertheless it was true. No one could fuck you like this. 

“Cum for me, let me feel you,” Draco said, lowering his head into the crook of your neck to ground himself, trying to fight off his orgasm until you got yours. 

It didn’t take much longer after that. He had worked you up so much beforehand that your orgasm came to you easily and came with such a force you were left breathless in its wake. Your nails carved down Draco’s muscular back, sure to leave delightful scratch marks that you could study later, as you cried out in bliss. 

The moment he felt your walls contract around him, he let himself go with a low groan. The sound was music to your ears, and only intensified the feelings you were experiencing. To have him so close, sharing in the same ecstasy you were, it was like magic. 

When you both came down from your highs, he swiftly rearranged the both of you until you wrapped in his arms, both lying on the couch. It was a strange feeling, being in his arms for the first time like this. If someone had told you this would be happening only a few hours before, you would have laughed in their face. But now here you both were, sweaty and satiated, basking in the bliss of finally consummating your marriage. 

The thought made you giggle, and when he shot you a perplexed look, you couldn’t help but explain. 

“We finally consummated our marriage,” you explained, still giggling. “And don’t worry, by the way, I’m on the potion,” you thought to add, just in case kids weren’t looming in the future for him. 

“Good to know you won’t be birthing any bastard children,” was his sullen response, clearly still hurt by the events of the day. 

You shifted your body until you were looking directly at him, but he made no moves to pull his arms away from you. If anything, he held you tighter when he felt you move, unwilling to give up the moment. 

“Look, I’m sorry about what I did today. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair to you. And if I had known even a fraction how you felt about me, I wouldn’t have done it, because I feel the same about you. I was just feeling incredibly stuck in what I thought was a hopeless marriage, and I was lonely, so I sought out someone else. But now I understand that that isn’t the case, and I can promise you, from the bottom of my heart, that it will never happen again,” you told him, putting everything out there for him. 

“You feel the same?” He asked timidly, after a moment of deliberation. There was a look of hope on his face, and never in your wildest dreams would you shut down such a rare display of emotion from him. Then again, you may be expecting more of his emotions from here on out. 

“Yes. I’ve always been attracted to you, and the little bits of you that I do know, I like. I want this to work, Draco. I want this to be a real marriage. All I wanted was a shot.” you said, just praying he wanted the same. 

“‘I’ll admit, I wasn’t a good husband to you by any means, and I probably unknowingly pushed you into doing what you did. But now that our intentions are out there, I’d like nothing more than to give this a real shot,” he responded, that newly familiar look of hope in his eyes present once more. 

In that moment, you could both feel it. The beginning of something great.

[gunsatthaphan]

My feelings on Dan is that the show was always planning on going for a redemption arc for him and a danyok happy ending but that the constraints of production just didn’t allow it to happen in a totally satisfying way. The production team has talked a lot about how limited they were with budget and time and how they needed a script doctor but couldn’t afford one and I feel like that was really evident in the latter half of the show, and specifically the last 4ish episodes. I don’t want to say the writing was bad, but I think it declined in quality a lot because the writers seemed to get in over their heads and weren’t sure how to finish out the storylines they started. Plus the limited run time meant they needed to rush through arguably some of the most important parts of the storylines after big reveals happened because there just wasn’t enough time.

As someone who has worked in criminal defense and believes pretty much anyone can be redeemed and we are not defined by the worst thing we’ve ever done, I’m happy with Dan getting a happy ending. As someone who also wants that happy ending to be earned, I’m dissatisfied with the execution by the show itself. Overall I still really enjoyed the series and thought the characters were all absolutely fantastic. I’m not sure it’ll be a show that holds up as well for me on rewatch when the writing issues are more obvious because of continuous viewing, but the experience of watching week to week has been incredible and I’m SO happy a show like this was able to be made. Hopefully it’ll lead to more shows with such important themes and messages being made (and funded and supported properly by the production companies).

hi there anon! thank you for sharing your thoughts!

It’s not a secret, nor an unpopular opinion anymore that danyok deflated a bit in the last few chapters of the show. The buildup they did with his character was immense and even though the resolvement/climax wasn’t necessarily bad or unreasonable (at least in my opinion) - it felt underwhelming. I’m not sure what this comes down to - may it be writing or budget - but what you said definitely sounds plausible. I actually think part of the main issue was his limited screen time. Considering how he was basically the 6th main character, he should’ve shown up more. I can’t count the number of situations where I felt like he needed to be present and he wasn’t. Which is not the main reason or an excuse for anything but to me it played a big role. So many people were captured by him and his backstory which I feel like the writers didn’t expect(?) Maybe they would’ve given him more depth otherwise.

Regardless, I truly believe they did the absolute most with the resources they had and overall did a very good job. I’m happy with dan’s ending; it could’ve been more fleshed out but I do forgive him for his mistakes. I also liked Yok’s reaction. I like what you said about redemption and I understand that you were dissatisfied - and maybe I’m too shallow for saying this (and probably also too tired to be upset at this point lmao) - but I liked it. It didn’t feel forced and it was a nice fadeout, without much uproar. And considering the intensity of events in the first half of the epsiode, it made sense and was nice to watch actually. Not the mention the entire scene with yok and the painting was a masterpiece. I loved it so much.

And also a big YES to everything you said about the show and its impact. It was a masterpiece for sure, despite its flaws, and I hope it will contribute to paving the way for more stuff like this. It broke out of the bl box - even more than other shows have done in the last year, which already has been amazing to witness - and I hope other productions will follow their lead ✌🏻

xxx

[cinnaminsvga]

A Boy Like You | Yoongi

→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff → warnings: an overabundance of shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to squish his cheeks; kinda ooc but it is what it is → words: 11.5K → a/n: whaddup kids it’s ya girl... back from the dead after months of not writing shit, and what’s this owo... it’s a fluff fic?? miracles do happen... anyway i wrote this bc i just thot “man, wouldn’t it be super epic if i wrote a super self-indulgent fic where yoongi fulfills every single one of my deepest desires?” well... here is THIS!! pls feel free to scream into a pillow bc i certainly did!! enjoy!!

There is a boy you know who likes to show his kindness quietly. It would go something like this:

The air is thick with static; your hair stands up on end: a warning. The scent of raindrops hitting hot pavement graces your nostrils as a waterfall drops from the sky. You see the sea of heads begin to disappear under a canopy of multi-colored umbrellas. You, the lone ranger, rush back into the building from whence you came, dragging puddles and annoyance with you.

You should have anticipated it, should have thought to check the weather app before scrolling through dull social media posts when you left your house that morning. Instead, your fingers are left cold and umbrella-less.

You tilt your head upwards, watching as gallon upon gallon fell from the sky in an endless cycle. The watch on your wrist reads 5 PM, but the sky says it is 9 PM. The dark, swirling mass of clouds above you will continue on its thunderous parade, pausing for no one, especially not for you.

Your work bag is practically weightless, devoid of anything that might protect you from the onslaught of rain. The only thing inside is a small wallet that holds nothing more than dust and a loose promise of a paycheck. There is no way you can call a taxi like this, and the nearest bus stop is at least two blocks away. You are starting to think that your childhood dreams of becoming a mermaid hadn’t been so ridiculous after all.

Then comes the hand of God. It touches your shoulder gently, hesitantly. You turn around to face a stranger, a boy with shaggy black hair and pale moonlight skin. It is not God, but he comes close.

In his other hand is your salvation wrapped in Kumamon print nylon. It is proffered to you with a silent nod, his gaze fixed somewhere behind you as he waits for you to take it. The tips of his ears begin to redden the longer it takes for you to respond. Eventually, your brain connects with your muscles as you robotically pluck the umbrella from his grasp, a stuttered “thanks” leaving your lips.

He nods stiffly once more, removing his palm from your shoulder as though he had been burned. He shuffles for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to say. You wait, patience never waning for the strange boy that you have come to know as your salvation.

He doesn’t find the words after all. You aren’t too offended by his silence, but he appears to be mortified. And so, he leaves just as quickly as he had appeared, like a whirlwind dressed in an oversized blazer flapping behind him like wings. He runs through the rain without another thought, an arm raised above his head in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet.

You try calling out to him, wanting to thank him once more and maybe to ask how you can return his umbrella, but he is long gone. A speck of black dashing through the gray.

You clutch the umbrella closer to you, a feeling of something new growing inside of you. It is too small to call anything, but it is warm.

x x x x x

Umbrella boy has a name, and he happens to work on the same floor as you. You know this because he is standing right in front of you in all his bespectacled glory.

He ducks out of view the moment your eyes meet his. There is a stack of folders in his arms, and he bows his head until his nose touches manila. It’s too late––he knows you caught him staring. He scurries behind walls of filing cabinets and desk cubicles, desperate to get back to his desk where he hopes you’ll never find him.

The office floor is large, but it is not large enough to hide in. It takes only a few minutes until you find him hunched over his desk, every inch of space taken by enough towers of paper to cover a forest. It is no wonder that you never encountered your mysterious umbrella boy; he does a wonderful job of blending in.

Your eyes trail his form, not out of any perverse intent, but just out of curiosity. You never would have guessed from his unassuming and meek nature, but the boy is devastatingly beautiful. The devil is in the details: you admire the soft slope of his nose to the adorable pout of his lips. His eyelids are charmingly mismatched and his cheeks are begging to be pinched. It takes a year’s worth of self-restraint to keep your hands at your sides, if only so you don’t scare him away before you can even introduce yourself.

(You can already imagine your HR department contacting you about nonconsensual manhandling… You admit that you tend to get overzealous with your affection, especially when confronted with cute things. This boy would definitely need to watch out for you if he knows what’s best for him.)

((Also note to self: Stop having these psychopathic conversations with yourself. Being stuck inside the cage which is your brain is torture enough, so let’s not encourage it to get worse.))

There is a lanyard laced around his neck, the gaudy orange color of your company’s logo emblazoned across the thin material. And just out of your line of sight, you catch a glimpse of his ID. His name is––

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters out–no–he squeaks. Ah, so he’s noticed you. The folder in his hand slips out of his grasp, an avalanche of white tumbling all over his lap. He curses loudly, frantically sweeping away the mess under his desk, as if he could somehow magically make them disappear if he just kicked them hard enough. Unfortunately, the papers stay stubbornly tangible, and he is left with a halo of accounting reports around his workspace as a result.

“Are you… umm…” You hesitate with your words, fearing that any sudden movement on your part might cause umbrella boy to combust on the spot. “Do you need help… picking those up?”

“I–Well, no–Yes, but–” His sentences are stilted, his brain struggling to catch up with his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut, then shakes his head like he’s trying to reboot himself. Finally, after a few more deep breaths, he goes, “No. I’m fine. Thank you for offering.” He says that, but he appears awfully content with staring holes into the keyboard of his laptop when he is speaking to you though.

“Still… I’m terribly sorry for startling you,” you say, lips tugging downwards into a frown. You should have guessed he was skittish from how he had acted yesterday, but it’s quite a surprise to see one man so… disastrous, for lack of a better term. It’s awfully cute. “I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for lending me your umbrella yesterday, but it seems like you already knew who I was.”

His face does a weird thing then and there. It almost appears like he was caught in a time loop, like someone was manually reversing and replaying his facial expressions like a video. It takes a few minutes for his little stroke to settle down, but even then, his cheeks remain a rosy pink. “I–I just… remembered your name during the company retreat the other month. I’m not weird or anything, I swear!”

“Well luckily, I was never going to accuse you of being weird anyway!” You laugh, trying to ease the perpetual look of anxiety on his face. However, it only seems to worsen his nerves with how quickly his skin starts to redden. “In fact, I should be apologizing for not remembering your name, Mister..?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies, pausing for a second too long. He must have realized his delay because he coughs awkwardly into his forearm, averting his gaze away from you in a futile attempt to become nothing more than an abstract thought.

He must be equipped with some sort of superpower, because you’re starting to feel his secondhand embarrassment flood through you like a tsunami. Are you that difficult to converse with? Does he want to be left alone so badly that he’s trying to subtlely tell you to fuck off?

You’re about to start apologizing and scurry off back to your desk in barely concealed mortification when Yoongi clears his throat, his gaze fixed somewhere to your right. Whatever caught his attention must have been revolutionary with how large his eyes are, although last you remember is that the wall behind you is the same dull jailcell gray that you have come to know and hate.

“I just… I’m sorry if I’m acting odd right now. I just wasn’t expecting you to come to my cubicle and I would’ve… I don’t know, tidied up? If I knew you were coming,” he mutters, propping his glasses back up when they start sliding down his nose. They make their slow descent back down immediately after, forever on an endless cycle of up and down his face.

“You don’t have to clean up just for me! I’m not your manager or anything,” you say, surveying the absolute disaster zone that is his workspace. For his benefit, you sure hope that he has a map of his desk and filing cabinets, as it would have been a miracle otherwise if he memorized where anything was located in his personal office sty. “Though, it would be nice if you could see the bottom of your desk every once in a while.”

To your immense surprise, Yoongi lets out a resounding laugh at your quip. Though Yoongi isn’t a mute by any means, it isn’t like he spoke with much volume either. You hadn’t even thought your joke was funny enough to deserve a strained Caucasian™️ smile, so you appreciate that he had considered that you were even slightly funny. You love the pleasant tinkling of his laughter, so genuinely joyous that you can’t help but want to make a fool of yourself just so you can hear it again and again.

When Yoongi stops, the familiar reddish hue that has made a home on his cheeks resurfaces, though it’s less from embarrassment now. His shoulders are more relaxed, and he doesn’t look like he wants to crawl out of his skin as much. He still has eyes averted away from you, however. “Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed too hard at that. I’m normally not this weird… I think it’s just the nerves.”

You cock your head to the side. “Nerves? From what?”

Yoongi freezes, mouth gaping open slightly. “I, umm…” He coughs into his white button-up sleeve, pupils shaking as he formulates a response. “Just from… work. Yeah, I just have a lot of paperwork to do this week and I’ve been, er, having difficulty relaxing.”

Yoongi visibly breathes a sigh of relief when you accept his flimsy excuse, not really lingering on the validity of his statement. “Oh, sure! Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?” you say, smiling sweetly back at him. He stares, wide-eyed, not really sure how to go on with his life after he’d been blasted by the full force of your grin.

God, you hope you remembered to use a toothpick during lunch. Was there spinach in your teeth? Oh fuck.

“Gah,” he intones, his brain not fully cooperating with his mouth just yet. If you were any more socially inept, you’d probably be doing the same. Eventually, he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh. Yes. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your visit, you decide that it might be best for you to leave him be before either of you do or say anything more awkward and stupid. Before you turn to leave however, you decide to extend your hand forward, hoping to erase all the previous awkwardness between the both of you and hopefully start afresh. Even though you’ve only just met, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, wanting to see him again and somehow gain his friendship. “Hey, no sweat. It was really nice meeting you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he says, almost like an afterthought. He’s so busy staring at your proffered hand that you are afraid that you might have offended him unknowingly or something. Does he think you don’t wash your hands? Given by the fact that your office’s manager refuses to restock the soap dispensers at the washrooms, that isn’t that much of a stretch. Or maybe he was weirded out by your random handshake? Have handshakes become antiquated these days? Are the kids no longer doing it? Are you supposed to do those awful brohugs like the fresh-out-of-college interns do in the breakroom? Oh God, does Yoongi think you’re old?!

While you were in the midst of your mental breakdown, you soon begin to realize why Yoongi had contemplated returning your handshake for so long. Instead of taking your hand immediately, Yoongi rubs his own two palms together first, much like how one would when warming their hands in front of a fire. He takes care to blow on them slightly before grasping your hand firmly in his, finally bestowing you with your much awaited handshake.

“Umm..?” You stare at your intertwined hands, a little confused about the previous series of events that just happened five seconds ago. Yoongi, in all his adorable and flustered glory, releases your hand much too quickly like he’s been shocked, most likely realizing (belatedly) that what he had done might not be as clear to an observer as it is to himself.

“Oh, I – I’m so sorry about that, again.” Yoongi stutters, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just – my hands are really cold so I was trying to warm them up before I held your hands. I’m – I only just realized how odd that must have looked. Sorry.”

A rush of endearment and warmth surges through you as you behold this high strung boy, your heart flooded with a mix of emotions that make you feel gooey and blissful in one perfect package. No, this boy is the perfect package, all soft edges and blushy cheeks. It’s going to take a mountain and a room of vengeful deities to stop you from walking past his desk to catch a glimpse of him at this rate.

Oh God, you’re whipped already and it’s only been a few minutes since you said hello. He warmed his hand for you for heaven’s sake! Surely your enthusiasm can be excused in this one instance.

“That’s, uhh…” Now it seems that it is your turn to be at a loss of words, your throat clogged with a clump of newly discovered feelings that you don’t have enough time to sort through at the moment. The hamster running circles inside your brain has long since ground to a halt, and if Yoongi is going to keep staring at you with those charming cat eyes for any longer, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to convince the little vermin inside your skull to puppet your body again. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

Thank you? Really, Y/N?

“It’s, uh, no problem. Really.” And with that, Yoongi presents to you his most deadly smile to date: blinding whites coupled his prominent pink gums, with his cheeks stretched like proofed dough that make his dark eyes disappear. Is there a pencil wedged inside your chest cavity, or were you just spontaneously having a heart attack? It’s hard to say; all you know is that your organs have turned to slush, and you make a mental note to send the imminent hospital bill to a certain Min Yoongi.

Cause of hemorrhage: being too fucking cute.

With your daily dose of embarrassment fulfilled, you turn to leave with short stilted steps, as if you have to force yourself away from him like those stubborn souvenir shop magnets that never come off the fridge. “I guess I’ll see you around?” you say more like a question, unsure if he’ll even want to ever see you after that disaster of an interaction. Kim Namjoon from Accounting would be entirely too delighted if he ever found out that he wasn’t the most awkward human being in the office.

“Sure? I’ll just be here. As always,” Yoongi replies kindly, same gummy grin on his face, albeit a little more hesitant. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N.”

When he returns his attention to his workspace, it serves as a signal to you that you really should be going. Before you leave, you take note of the subtle red tint of his ears that reaches the back of his neck, the gentle tremor of his hands as he reorganizes the files that he had previously dropped. It makes you feel odd for relishing in the fact that you hadn’t been the only one feeling the tension between the two of you, though that doesn’t help lessen the confusion that soon follows anyway.

Why are you so drawn to him? You have never felt so strongly for someone this quickly, and frankly it sort of frightened you. You’re too afraid to confront that blossoming curiosity inside of you. No, it’s much too soon for that. For now, however…

“Oh shit. I totally forgot to give him back his umbrella,” you curse yourself once you return to your desk. The smiling face of Kumamon looks at you knowingly, as if this had been planned all along.

Well. Now you have an excuse to see him again tomorrow, at least.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his tenderness quietly. It would go something like this:

Company dinners shouldn’t feel like as much as a punishment as it does, but that’s just how social gatherings with semi-professional coworkers are like. No one here really wants to be there, but the carefully worded e-mail sent to the entire company clearly suggests that this was more of a “go to the party or risk getting fired” type of deal than anything remotely enjoyable. As much as free food and booze are often harbingers of a good time, it hardly makes any difference when your inebriated boss spends the entire time chatting you up in front of the presence of a dozen or so indifferent associates.

“Oh, Y/N! Good job securing that deal with Mister Park the other day. It’s all thanks to my valuable tutelage, is it not?” your manager guffaws, slapping your back with misplaced camaraderie. He leaves his warm, sweaty palm there, feeling it slide an inch lower than you were comfortable with anyone being. The smell of cheap wine on his breath is making you feel nauseous, and the tacky black and white tiled flooring isn’t doing anything to lessen the incoming migraine.

“Right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, unable to say anything else lest you lose your job over something silly like establishing boundaries. It’s no wonder that the number of female employees on your floor has significantly dropped over the years, especially with rumors attaching themselves like maggots all over your stupid manager’s name. You wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach exploded ala Alien (1979) style with how much bullshit resides in his body and soul.

You’ve long since given up on anyone saving you, not when everyone was either too busy taking advantage of the free food or too scared to confront your shitty boss. You resign to your fate, ready to scrub yourself clean with a brick once you get home in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the feeling of his hands on you.

That is, until someone clears their throat from behind you.

Salvation comes to you wrapped in a crisp white button-up, thick-rimmed glasses, and cat-like eyes. You almost want to start breaking into Gregorian chant just then to fully express your gratitude to the deities of above for sending an angel in your time of tribulation.

“Excuse me,” the (welcome) intruder says, voice quiet but clear even amidst the cacophonous music and chatter. Min Yoongi steps forward until he is to your right, and you don’t miss the way his shoulder “accidentally” bumps your manager hard enough for him to drop his hand from your back. When Yoongi smiles at your manager, it is all teeth and no mirth, his eyes carefully blank.

Thankfully, your manager isn’t quite as fortunate in his brains department as he is in his stomach. “Oh, Yoongi! It is so nice to finally see you attend one of our social functions. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?” your manager asks, guffawing loudly despite no joke being said. You never did quite understand how some men think they are the most hilarious thing to ever exist since clowns, though you suppose your manager was only missing the red nose to complete the look.

“Thrilled, Mister Lee. Absolutely thrilled,” Yoongi says in a dead monotone voice. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, and Yoongi points a wicked grin back at you before returning to his neutral and passive “work” face.

The sarcasm flies over your managers head like you expected, though you can hardly blame the alcohol for his lack of cognizance. You wouldn’t be half surprised if you knocked lightly on his head, only to hear a resounding echo following thereafter.

“I have never seen you at any of our parties before, Yoongi. What’s with the sudden change of heart?” your manager asks.

“Sir, I’ve attended every single social gathering since I was hired,” Yoongi says plainly, his composure never faltering. He must have better control than you, because you’re sure you would’ve barely held yourself back from smacking your manager had it been you. Though in fairness, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever noticed Yoongi at any of the other parties before this one either.

“Oh really? Well then, you mustn’t have said hello before then!” your manager laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “Always so enigmatic, our dear Yoongi! Well, keep up the good work.” When your manager turns his attention to speak to another one of your poor coworkers, Yoongi visibly gags from behind your manager’s back, grimacing as he pats away all traces of that foul man’s hand germs away from his dress shirt.

“Gross. Now my sleeve is damp,” he mutters, just audible enough so that only you could hear. You laugh out loud at that, nodding in understanding.

“Same here. There’s probably a gross sweaty handprint on my back now,” you say, wincing when you do feel a noticeable damp spot near the small of your back. “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, making a move to get away from your awful manager. He gestures for you to follow him, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” you add, keeping in step with him. He leads you out of the disorienting ballroom, though he doesn’t head towards the exit like you had expected. He appears to know the building much more than you do, given by how assuredly he walks. Either that, or he could be leading you to a deadend, but confidently.

“No problem. You honestly looked like you were about to punt him across the room, though I doubt anyone would be opposed to that magnificent spectacle,” Yoongi jokes, same mischievous grin from before decorating his face. He is so different from the taciturn man you had met two weeks ago, back when he had half-hidden behind his desk like an animal being cornered. Though, that might not be the best analogy to think of, as it only painted you as some sort of predator who came after meek and soft-looking men. Which you aren’t. Hopefully.

“Oh, I would’ve done more than just that, so really he should be thanking you for saving him,” you snort, and Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. Like before, his laughter is just as pleasant as you remember. Your greedy heart yearns to elicit the same sound from him once more, for as many times as you can muster before the night ends.

You had been so immersed in trying to keep up with his quick strides that you don’t notice where exactly he has taken you. The two of you haven’t gone too far away from the ballroom before he stops right in front of a metal double door, the neon green exit sign about it glowing conspicuously in the otherwise dimly lit corridor. He pushes it open, allowing the cool evening air to blow across you and your hand-me-down dress.

“Are we… at the balcony?” you ask, though the view that greets you is answer enough. How Yoongi could have known where the balcony is, you can’t say for certain. But any sort of question dies on your lips when you see how beautiful the skyline is: the stars and city lights twinkling indiscriminately, the sound of nightlife and traffic sounding loud despite the streets being so far away, the smell of ozone signalling an oncoming storm.

This, of course, is what you imagine the view to be like. You know, if the ever reliable Seoul smog wasn’t there to obstruct any sort of magical, romantic view that you should have been privy to.

“Oh damn. I forgot the smog forecast today was especially bad,” Yoongi groans from beside you, quickly shuffling through his pant pockets for a face mask. He procurs two black masks, still in their plastic packaging, and hands one of them to you. “Jesus. Sorry about this. Didn’t expect the smog to be so bad… We can just go back inside, if you want?”

Then, you are reminded of your manager, who is basically pollution incarnate with how terrible his breath is. So, you accept Yoongi’s proffered mask and promptly put it on. “Yeah, no thanks,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the fabric. The implication of your acceptance makes Yoongi grin cheekily back at you (or so you think, guessing by how his eyes crinkle cutely above his mask.)

Now properly equipped to not inhale disgusting air matter into your lungs, you step out farther across the balcony, enjoying the way the cool night breeze feels against your alcohol flushed face. (Though, if you were being honest, the heat on your cheeks has less to do with the meager flute of champagne you had earlier and more to do with the company you currently find yourself with.)

“I fucking hate these company dinners,” you whine a little bit too petulantly, complete with the jutted lip of a child who has been forced to wait as her mother engages in an eternity long conversation with an acquaintance. You lean against the railings near the edge of the building, watching idly as Yoongi does the same. “Don’t you think that if they wanted us to get ‘closer’ with one another, they’d first want to address the fact that some of our coworkers happen to be pigs dressed in white collared shirts?”

Yoongi snorts at that, his right hand immediately coming up to his mouth to silence the unflattering sound. Not that it wasn’t completely charming to you, but you do enjoy the slight abashment that blooms across his face shortly thereafter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh like that. But, I do agree with you… I can’t say that anyone in our department is especially fond of that Habsburg motherfucker.”

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your system, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of realizing that Yoongi is strangely attractive when he swears, but the laugh that exits your mouth sounds a touch too crazed for your liking. Either that, or perhaps you’re finally dying from the pollution.

Luckily for the both of you, it seems that Yoongi likes your weird laugh just as much as you like his. He tries to hide a smile before continuing, “Like, come on! I’m sorry for saying that because attacks on physical appearance is always a low blow, but why the fuck does that dude look like he’s been compressed and flattened on Photoshop? He’s got perpetual flat-face syndrome. You could -  you could land a damn plane on his face or some shit.”

The cork inside of your bursts, and you let out the most ungodly guffaw in your life. You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed by how loud your howls are, not when every word he says hits the mark a little bit too close to home. There’s nothing quite as pleasing than sharing mutual dislike for the same person, and it fills you with the utmost glee that Yoongi is no exception to that rule.

“Oh god… You’re right. You are absolutely right. I seriously can’t believe anyone can put up with him. I mean, the damned bastard couldn’t even remember my name until two weeks ago,” you say, shaking your head in disgust. The first few times he had forgotten, you had been gracious enough to laugh away his mistakes as little more than that: mistakes. But when five years pass and peanuts-for-a-brain still hasn’t deemed that remembering your name to be as important as when the “next big Game™” is, then it’s easy to understand the depth of your resentment towards your manager.

“Are you for real?” Yoongi asks, brows raised in shock. “How could anyone ever forget you – I mean, shit, uh,” Yoongi coughs suddenly, red-faced. You tilt your head in confusion, waiting for him to finish. He’s still kind of spluttering when he continues, “What I meant to say is… H-how could anyone forget their employees name after working here for so long?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea. Honestly, I think he’s trying to purposefully forget everything I tell him. One time, he had asked me what plans I had for Christmas, and I mentioned to him how I was going to be visiting my parents back home, and he has the gall to ask what country I’m from. Like???” Your face contorts as if you had eaten an entire lemon, so wracked with disbelief that Yoongi can see the hypothetical question marks floating above your head. “Bitch, do I look foreign to that bastard? I’ve lived here all my life!”

Yoongi hums, thoughtful. “Your parents live just an hour away from here, right?”

“I… Yeah, they do,” you reply. You eye Yoongi curiously, watching his all-too familiar flush resurfacing on his neck once more. “Wait… How do you know that?”

“You… You were talking about them, once. To Seulgi? Yea, you were, um…” Yoongi coughs unassuredly, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous tick of his, you suppose. “It was a year ago? Something about visiting them during the weekend… Not that I was eavesdropping on purpose! I would never, er, do that…”

You don’t even register his embarrassment as you are mostly shell shocked that he had even remembered that little tidbit from over a year ago. Hell, you didn’t even remember going to your parent’s house until he mentioned it. “No it’s fine, I get it. I’m just surprised that you even bothered to remember that.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you strangely. “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Fluttering of wings begin to erupt in your stomach, but you hardly have the peace of mind to fully grasp why you were even feeling so flustered in the first place. It was just that he had said it so… matter-of-fact, like there was no possible way he could’ve forgotten even if he tried. It was kind of disconcerting, but flattering all the same. But more importantly--

“Wait, you’ve been working at the company since last year? How have I never seen you before this month?!”

“Oh,” Yoongi coughs out a laugh, scratching the end of his nose. He turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but you. “I was just, umm… Really quiet? I don’t really talk to anyone unless I need to. I’m more of a listener.”

“Oh my God, now I feel even more terrible for not knowing your name! I must look like an egotistic bitch to you,” you despair lowly, cupping your face into your hands in shame. You feel another pair of cold hands clasp your wrists, and you watch in shock as he pulls your palms away with a determined expression.

“What? Of course not. You are definitely not an egotistic bitch, Y/N. In fact, you’re the complete opposite,” Yoongi whispers, so quiet that you might have imagined it. He grasps your hands tightly, like he’s desperate for you to believe him.

You stammer in embarrassment, staring wide-eyed at Yoongi as you try to regrasp your comprehension skills. It’s especially hard to concentrate with how close Yoongi is to you, the latter unaware of his own proximity. He had stepped closer towards you to hold your hand, and normally you hated it when people touched you without permission, but somehow… This was alright.

(Unbeknownst to you, this will not be the first time that Yoongi becomes your secret little exception. It’s only the first of many.)

“I-I don’t really know what to say?” Your gaze is locked on his firm grip on your hands, the only thing flitting through your mind: damn, this dude’s hands really are fucking freezing!

It takes another few seconds for Yoongi to calm down, and you know when it happens because the realization of what he had said makes itself apparent on his expression. He turns beet red in a second, stepping away from you with his arms flying off of you like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, taking two steps away from you. You almost take two steps forward to keep the distance closer, but you have a feeling that he would keep walking away from you until you both inevitably fall off the balcony, so you smartly choose to stay away (even if it pains you to do so). You wait for his breathing to settle, all the while still reeling from his blatant confession just moments ago.

Could you even consider it a confession? Were you being delulu, or is there some sort of connection that you and Yoongi were both feeling?

“Yoongi, it’s fine! Really,” you smile wryly, raising your hands towards him open-faced, much like how you would do when approaching an agitated animal. Like a nervous kitty, you think privately to yourself. “I’m really flattered that you feel so… strongly?”

“I’m… I’m really not like this normally. Honest,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… I never… do that. Whatever that was. Umm.”

Because you’re a freak of nature and enjoy exacerbating awkward social interactions, you decide to respond to him like this: “No worries, I’m flattered, honest! But hey, maybe next time you try to give me a compliment, you could look me in the eye?” You know, like an asshole. Who points out people’s social anxieties like that? You bitch!

On cue, Yoongi’s cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms once more. “I––I, I didn’t mean to––uh!” he stammers.

“No, no, I’m sorry for even saying that!” You apologize profusely, bowing so low that he could probably see the top of your spine. “I didn’t mean to tease you like that! I’m sorry! That was seriously out of line!”

What a pair the two of you were… Like two trains crashing into each other at mach speed, continuously and eternally. A constant and ongoing catastrophe!

(The little gremlin living inside your brain is knocking at your empty skull, whispering deviously, “But doesn’t that make the two of you the perfect pair?”)

When he doesn’t respond back immediately, you have to wrack up enough courage to look back at him. You gasp audibly when you do, and you have to forcibly grip the insides of your bicep to keep yourself from squealing in pure anguish.

Because there, right before your very eyes, is a blushing Min Yoongi looking you straight in the eye with his face squished between his hands, as if he’s forcibly keeping his head locked in place. His pupils are noticeably shaking and his brows are furrowed in concentration, but he’s looking at you. Like you asked.

He’s… He’s too…

“Okay, let me try this again.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. “Y… You’re a great person, Y/N. I hope you know that,” he whispers, voice trailing off by the end of his sentence.

He’s dry heaving like he’s just finished a marathon, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You’re worried if he even remembers how to blink with how intensely he’s staring you down, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him when your heart is quite literally beating out of your chest like a cartoon character from the 80’s.

“I…” You’re at a loss of words. If Min Yoongi can capture you like this with just a look, then think of how much more powerful he would be if he just learned how to use it. You’re slipping into real dangerous waters, and you don’t know if you’re just a frog in boiling water or if this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Yoongi, I didn’t mean for you to… force yourself like that, really…”

The moment breaks, finally, when Yoongi begins to cry.

“Shit!” you both exclaim, but for two different reasons. “Are you okay? Oh my god!” you reach out for him, not even thinking when you cup his cheeks in your hands. He gently pushes you away with one hand, while the other goes to scrub at his tears.

“Yes, I’m fine! A piece of dust got caught in my eye and I was too slow to blink it away,” he explains, still wiping at his cheeks. He pulls his mask down to his chin, pouting cutely at you. “Sorry. I’m not used to looking people in the eye yet. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Oh my god. At this point, you’d be surprised if your heart was located anywhere near your body. You were running purely on autopilot, so enamored by the boy in front of you that you could almost faint. He was entirely too unreal, unbelievably so. Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find your heart again, and you know the first place where you’d look.

“Give it back,” you mumble, and Yoongi tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” you reply, reaching over him and snapping his mask back on his face. You laugh as he splutters in surprise, floundering about overdramatically as if the elastic on the mask had done any damage to him at all. “Oh, stop it. You’re just being silly now.”

“Hey, I have delicate skin! You never know,” he jokes, but stops when you give him an unimpressed look.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “And well, since I keep saying sorry today, and you look like you could use a little warming up, do you wanna leave this place and get some coffee? My treat.”

And really, who were you to say no to that?

And really, who were you to say no to Min Yoongi?

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his thoughtfulness quietly. It would go something like this:

A steaming hot coffee cup from the nearby cafe manifests itself on your desk one Monday morning. In your sleep-deprived haze, you had originally failed to realize that there was a hand connected to that cup and that it hadn’t actually just materialized from thin air like you had thought. After much blinking and staring, you crane your head up to see Jesus standing in front of you, his glasses still fogged from the outside chill.

“I got you a drink. I hope I remembered your order right,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches you lethargically reach over for the cup to lift the lid open. His grin widens when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of little marshmallows bobbing up and down in your hot chocolate, bits of whipped cream already melting away from the heat. When you take a sip, you breathe a content sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Yoongi, I’m going to kiss your feet right now and you can’t stop me,” you say, upper lip lined with cream and sugar. Yoongi’s hand twitches by his side, but he doesn’t move.

“Even if I have toe fungus?”

“Especially if you have toe fungus,” you say, downing as much hot chocolate down your throat without choking and barfing all over him.

From the rim of your cup, you can see that Yoongi still has his parka on, his signature black mask pulled down his chin indicating that he’s only just arrived at the office. It makes your heart jump a little, knowing that he went straight to you first before anyone else that day.

“I still don’t understand how you hate coffee. Like, I don’t think I’d be able to be conversing with you right now if I didn’t have caffeine running through my veins,” he says, staring at you(r lips) as you chew a marshmallow thoughtfully.

You want to tell him that Yoongi doesn’t talk a lot anyway in the first place, though you have begun to notice that he’s becoming more talkative the more you hang out with him. However, you aren’t quite sure if you’re imagining it, but it seems like Yoongi’s change in personality doesn’t really apply when he’s with anyone else. On the days where you’d pass by his cubicle on the way to the water coolers, he’d still have his usual stoic expression on his face as he goes through his paperwork with the grace of a robot. When he’s with you, however…

“Says the guy who’s started drinking frappes after I suggested them to you. Don’t lie to me, Min Yoongi.” You’re giggling softly, and you can tell Yoongi’s seams are already breaking. Pink gums and straight teeth are seconds away from peaking through. You wink cheekily at him.  “You’re just as sweet as your personality is.”

“Stop, that’s so embarrassing!” he exclaims, hiding behind his hands. He’s already smiling. “I’m not as sweet as you think! I’m a mean guy!”

“Yoongi, you literally just bought me hot chocolate with marshmallows because you remembered what I like. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body,” you retort, rolling your eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

“Not true! I stole an extra coupon booklet when I was at the grocery store the other day.”

“Ooooh, I do love a bad boy,” you say, but the two of you are already laughing hysterically. “Seriously, thanks. I really needed this today.”

“Dang, bad morning already?” he winces, having noticed the purple moons under your eyes when he had approached you. He didn’t want to mention it without you bringing it up first, but he had been worried about you since last Friday when you had left the workplace with a slammed door.

“Try bad weekend. Mr. Lee has been pushing my buttons for months now, but I seriously didn’t think he thought it was a challenge. He’s been giving me shitty filing jobs to complete like I’m some overworked intern!”

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. “Aren’t you, like… In the advertising department? Why would he make you file things?”

“Exactly!” You’re all but roaring now, but Yoongi can’t help smirking at the stray dollop of whipped cream that had somehow found its way on your nose. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist, swiping it away with the fabric as nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, he’s as red as a spanked ass when he does it.)

You don’t even notice his actions, still deep in the abyss of your rage. “And also! My shitty phone ran out of storage space the other day so I’ve had to delete all the songs on my library and I can’t find any good playlists on Spotify to help me dissociate on the train!”

“Wow, that’s a mood,” Yoongi says, chuckling. He clears his throat, an idea popping into his head. He turns bashful all of a sudden, gaze diverting upwards as he musters the courage to say, “I-I mean, I think I can help you with that last problem, if you want…”

You stop huffing and puffing long enough to appear intrigued. “Oh? Are you gonna send me a playlist?”

Yoongi splutters. “I mean! If you want it, I do have some songs that I like listening to.”

Yoongi squeaks when you smile at that, radiant and all-encompassing. He wonders how he’s not dead right now.

“Oh god, that would be great actually! Text me the link, would you?” you say, already making grabby hands for his phone. “Here, lemme put my phone number in your phone.”

Yoongi almost drops his phone as he takes it out of his pocket, staring in awe as he watches you type in your number into his phone. He has to keep himself from outright howling when he sees you place a sunflower emoji beside your name. How fitting, he thinks to himself.

When you return the phone back to him, he immediately texts you the link to his playlist. You have to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens when you see the very Yoongi-esque title, “Songs for the Sleepless,” complete with the grainy-noir-film-type playlist art to complete the look. It was just so… personal, so Yoongi, and it’s making you clench organs that you didn’t know were clenchable.

You whistle at the sheer number of songs on the playlist, with the first song being—“Didn’t peg you as a Lana Del Rey fan,” you pipe up, scrolling through his playlist with acute interest. “Kendrick Lamar and Epik High, I understand. But Lana?”

To his credit, the playlist did seem like it had a narrative of sorts, despite the eclectic range of artists and genres. You only recognize maybe ten of the songs from his five hundred song playlist, and you’re very curious to see what type of songs he connects to.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he shrugs his shoulders, though a little bit embarrassed. “Lana Del Rey could sing my obituary and I’d jump out of my grave in an instant.”

“Bit morbid but okay,” you laugh, finger ready to close your music player app when you catch sight of a song with an artist you didn’t expect to see. You reach over to tug on his sleeve, your sly smile already causing Yoongi to break out in hives. “Hey… I didn’t know you shared your name with a singer, unless, of course…”

Yoongi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he yelps in surprise, snatching your phone out of your grip as his eyes bug out of his sockets. His ears redden, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he tries to explain himself despite your raucous giggling.

“I––You weren’t supposed to––I forgot about! That was––I was just––Ugh,” he groans despairingly, smacking himself in the forehead with your phone. You’re still giggling madly, enjoying the spectacle before you as Yoongi’s ears are practically shooting out steam.

“You’re so cute.” It slips out of your mouth with such ease that you almost don’t notice saying it at all; you’re still smiling dreamily at Yoongi as he stares at you in shock, mouth still agape from his earlier rambling. You gasp loudly when your brain cells finally catch up, but by then it’s already too late. Now, the two of you were a matching pair, with your fire engine red ears standing at attention.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” you mutter into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole right now.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that,” Yoongi wails beside you, but you don’t notice the small satisfied smile he’s sporting on his reddened face. “Y-You can’t just say things and not expect me to…”

You look up, wondering why he’d suddenly trailed off at the end. “Expect you to what?”

Yoongi, once again, defies the laws of the universe by somehow turning even redder than humanly possible. “N-nothing. Ignore me. Let’s just admit we’re both embarrassing and carry on, can we?”

“Sure,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “But, does that mean I can listen to your songs, Mister Min ‘I’m-a-superstar-singer-in-my-spare-time’ Yoongi?”

“I’m not a superstar! I just record songs in my free time, that’s all,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Says the guy who apparently raps as a hobby! Seriously, I can tell I’m gonna love it already.”

His gaze is turned upwards, cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. He looks like he wants to say something else, however, and you wait for him as he tries to gather the courage to say what else is on his mind. “S-say, I was wondering… Since I’m already here and all, do you want to maybe go out wi—”

“Yo! Hyung!”

A deep voice from across the office floor snaps the two of you out of your little bubble in an instant. It doesn’t take a genius to tell who it is, not when there’s only one person in the entire company who would dare wear a sushi-print tie to work at one of the most lucrative companies in the country.

Kim Namjoon hobbles over to your little cubicle space in all his sushi-print tie glory, knocking over a coworker’s potted plant in the process. Between you and Yoongi, you had been more surprised by Namjoon’s sudden exclamation, mostly because you’d never been particularly close with the eccentric man. Yoongi probably can’t say the same since he had briefly mentioned that he and Namjoon go way back, though you’re starting to have some doubts about that due to the dirty glare Yoongi was currently pointing at the sentient noodles-for-legs.

Namjoon waves cheerily at you before cutting to the chase as he envelops Yoongi in a not-too-gentle hug. “Hyung! I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at your desk this morning so I was wondering where you’d wandered off, but of course I’d find you here at Y/N’s de––”

Yoongi promptly stomps on Namjoon’s feet, causing the younger to yelp out in pain. “Namjoon. I told you I’d talk to you later.” Yoongi smiles sweetly, but you can see the aura of danger radiating off of him in waves. “Emphasis on later.”

Namjoon pouts petulantly, but he doesn’t look all that offended. “I was just gonna remind you to ask Y/N if she wanted to join us for lunch la––OUCH! WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET!”

Yoongi appears unbothered, not even looking back at Namjoon’s shouts of betrayal. All the while, he still has his gaze trained on you, never wavering for one second.

“Please ignore my colleague. He can a bit… Unnecessarily loud,” Yoongi says, accompanied by Namjoon’s splutters of indignation.

“Umm?? I’m right here?? Your actual best friend?? Geez!” Namjoon huffs, looking at the both of you incredulously. You just shrug your shoulders, completely dumbfounded by the last five minutes of human interaction.

“As Namjoon was saying before we were so rudely interrupted… I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? Namjoon can join too, but only if he behaves,” Yoongi jokes, smirking at Namjoon’s ireful glares.

You giggle quietly at the unlikely pair, amused beyond belief at this new side of Yoongi that you hadn’t been aware of. So this is how he is with his friends… Cocky Yoongi is definitely someone you wouldn’t mind talking to occasionally, you admit.

“Sure, I’d love to. Just let me finish all this filing crap for Mr. Lee, then I’ll head over to your desk at around 12?” If you work at a breakneck pace, then you could probably finish sooner if you didn’t let anything else distract you. “Oh! And I should probably return your umbrella before you leave. I keep forgetting to give it back to you.”

“No worries,” Yoongi says. “You should keep the umbrella. I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Namjoon’s head whips toward Yoongi at that, staring at him skeptically. “Dude. Ain’t that your favorite Kumamon umbrella though? Didn’t you almost murder me that one time I forgot it at the McDonald’s last mo––WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET! I’M GONNA GET FLATFOOT SYNDROME!”

“Not my problem,” Yoongi replies, pinching Namjoon’s nose for good measure. He turns to you, waving goodbye. “See you in a few?”

You stretch your back, psyching yourself up to get back to work. “Right. I’ll text you when I’m done okay? See you at 12-ish!”

The boys make their leave, bickering all the while. You catch wind of a bit of their conversation as they turn the corner, their voices echoing down the hall.

“Hey, I noticed that you were looking Y/N in the eye when you were speaking. Why don’t you ever look me in the eye when we talk!”

Yoongi snorts, flipping him off. “It’s because you’re not as nice to look at. Simple as that.”

In your seat, you smile secretly to yourself, butterflies erupting in your chest. Filled with newly found fervor, you chip away at the pile of work on your desk until it starts to vanish from view.

Before you know it, you’re off to see Yoongi once more.

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his vulnerability quietly. It would go something like this:

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his love quietly. It would go something like this:

Your day begins with a phone call: a warning. Your boss tells you to come into work as soon as possible, not a note of enthusiasm or friendliness in his tone. He ends the call just as abruptly as it had come, the silence following soon after deafening your ears. Your heart races marathons in your chest, and your brain goes to the worst place it can go.

Your hands are sweating gallons upon gallons as you shrug your coat on, fumbling with your keys as you struggle to place them in your pocket. For a brief moment, you think about calling Yoongi for moral support, but think better of it. You don’t want to bother anyone, especially not him.

You, the lone ranger, walk out of your apartment and into the murky urban outdoors, the first pitter-patters of rain making their descent the moment your foot meets the pavement. You don’t have quite the energy to go back inside to grab your umbrella, not when you’re unsure if you’ll be courageous enough to leave your bedroom once more if you did.

You’d always been a coward, a soft-hearted fool. Content with shouldering the consequences of your actions without another word: a sufferer in silence. For the past few weeks, you thought you might have changed. You’d been smiling a lot more, laughing a lot more. Your cheeks were often more red than any other color these days, and it was all thanks to a boy you know.

He was shy, but brave. Quiet, but talkative. Mysterious, but vulnerable.

He made you realize that there was no need to settle for one side of a coin, not when you could have both. The longer you stuck around him, the stronger your desire was to become… more.

You wanted to be open; you wanted to be known. You wanted to be able to ask for what you want, and never feel the crushing sense of guilt that usually came afterwards. You wanted to be unapologetic, wanted to keep your hands open, waiting for good things to come your way. To never cower in the face of a gift being handed to you. You wanted to have all that life has to offer––

(Him. Him. Him.)

But there is something pitiful about being unable to keep your own promises. The embarrassment of returning to the state where you once were, of turning meek at the first sign of adversity. The dreams of a happier life drifts away from you like mist under the morning sun, and the pressing weight of the world once again makes its home on your shoulders.

And so, you do not cry when your boss tells you to pack up your things within the hour.

You do not cry when you cut your finger on the corner of your desk that had never been replaced during your five-year stay at this company.

You do not cry when one of your potted plants smash to the floor when you try to carry too many things at once.

You do not cry when co-workers you’d only barely spoken to come over to your desk with showers of condolences, as if you’d already died.

You do not cry when Kim Namjoon walks over to you, quietly bending down to help you carry your boxes down to the lobby.

And when all is said and done, you most especially do not cry when Min Yoongi runs to you with his lungs burning in his chest, glasses still fogged up from the morning cold outside. His hair is in disarray and his shirt is on backwards, as if he’d jumped out of bed the moment he knew something was wrong. When he skids to a halt right in front of you, the pain etched on his face is as plain as day.

Wordlessly, he takes the last box out of your hands, placing his car keys on top when he can’t hold onto them both. His eyes flit towards your clenched fists for a second, but looks away the moment you notice. Instead, he walks out to the elevator, and you follow soon after.

You do not cry when Min Yoongi helps you load his car with your things. You do not cry when he takes a first-aid kit out of his glovebox and puts a band-aid on your finger. You do not cry when he offers to pass by the local home depot to pick up a new plant when he notices yours is gone. You do not cry when he doesn’t treat you like your life has ended.

(But you feel it. Pricking along your eyes like a dam about to break. He is doing this to you. He’s making you feel again, and it fucking hurts.)

And so, he drives you home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yoongi starts after a while, tapping a rhythm away on his steering wheel as he waits for the morning rush traffic to subside. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, worried when you don’t respond. You keep your head pressed against the cool car window, staring blankly at the gray skyline.

“I… I hope you don’t mind if I play you something. Just… Just listen to it, okay?”

You don’t see him, but you hear his fingers switch their tapping to his phone as he unlocks it, searching for the song he wants you to hear. It takes a moment or two for him to find it, soft curses tumbling from his lips as he goes through his Google Drive for the unfinished draft that he hadn’t meant to show you until it was complete, but well––

You were always an exception to him, weren’t you?

The first notes come creeping up from behind you, and it reminds you of the way Yoongi would speak to you. All soft whispers and gummy smiles, like he’s restraining himself. Slowly but surely, the music grows louder, more confident with its sound. You can picture Yoongi standing upright, hand outstretched towards you as he asks you to follow him.

The song is unfamiliar, but there’s something about it that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You’re trying to go through your memories, sorting through the hundreds of songs that Yoongi has made you listen to but none of them seem to ring a bell. You’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard this before when the lyrics finally start.

“Lost in the sea of my regrets, you became my polaris.”

Yoongi’s voice comes from the radio speaker, jolting you from your seat. Your spine straightens, and you stare bullets at Yoongi’s phone as the song continues to play. When you look towards him, Yoongi’s face is a statue; the only thing giving away the fact that he was with you at all was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“The shadows, which had been my haven, no longer feel as good as they once did. You, my light, have changed all of that.”

You gasp, and Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. It seems like the two of you stop moving at that moment, neither of you daring to breathe. Even the outside traffic sounds muted compared to the sound of your hearts hammering inside your chests.

“I’ve long since forgotten to pray, but I will remember for you. I only dream of happiness for you, my morning light, my northern star. And I’d give it all up for you.”

Yoongi notices your tears fall before you even do; he’s quick to fluster, scrambling through his car side door for a tissue to hand to you, but he stops the moment he feels your hand fist the elbow of his sleeve. He turns to look at you, all blotchy and tear-stained, but beautiful all the same. And even through your tears, you smile just as radiantly as when he had first seen you.

“Thank you,” you mouth, fingers trembling as you fight to keep more tears from falling, but nothing can stop a dam from breaking. Not when you’re sitting beside the hurricane who broke it in the first place; it was the boy with feelings that never did quite fit in his body the way other people’s did.

Luckily, they fit right in with you.

When the song comes to the end, you’re sniffling up a storm, but you still haven’t let go of him. When you’re only a few minutes away from your apartment, Yoongi parks a little bit far off from your doorstep, so you have to walk the rest of the way home. But you’re still unwilling to let go, not yet.

Gently, Yoongi pries your hand away from his sleeve and you’re about to protest, but the words die on your lips the moment they form when Yoongi rubs his hands along the side of his slacks before placing them in yours. His hands are still cold, but comforting all the same.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers.

You nod. Of course, you want to say. But he knows what you mean, anyway.

When he goes to unpack your things from the trunk, you shake your head, stopping him from moving any further. “I… I don’t feel like sorting through those things right now. Is it fine with you if I just… Go home for now? Please?” Your brain feels like lead in your skull after all the bottled up tears had finally escaped from years of constant pressure, and you don’t think you’re quite ready to go through all those emotions again. You feel deflated, but better. He always makes you feel better.

Yoongi closes the trunk, locking his car before stretching out his hands for you. You stare at the proffered hand for a moment.

“Oh, right.” Yoongi goes to rub his hands to warm them, but you stop him once more in his ministrations. He looks at you, confused, as you grab his hand from him. You rub circles into his palm, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

“You’re always warming your hands for me… So this time, I’ll warm them for you, okay?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he tugs you along towards the sidewalk and keeps you close to him. As he walks with you, you notice the way he leans slightly to the left, like he’s drawn to you––like he can’t help be more than an inch further from you.

You keep glancing back down at your linked hands; he’s shaking, but then again, that could also be you.

You arrive at the gate of your apartment quicker than you would have liked. Neither of you move to separate; when you look back at Yoongi, you see that his eyes are trained on you. He doesn’t even flinch away like he used to. His lips are pursed, like he wants to say something but he’s still too afraid to.

So you say it for him instead.

“Do you have… somewhere to be?” Unlike you, he still has a job. He still has commitments. He still has a life outside of you. You’re hit with fear, once again, at the sudden change in your circumstances.

You might never get to see him again. Is this where your paths cross, never to intersect again? Your stomach drops at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, I don’t. I could…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at your apartment with soft hesitance. “If… If you want me to…”

Yes. Please. I’d love it. I love yo–– ”Yes. Stay with me?” you mumble.

“Always,” he promises.

The pair of you trudge up to your apartment, passing by the prying eyes of housewives with your heads bowed in embarrassment. They don’t miss your pinkies linked behind your backs, nor the subtle blushes on the apples of your cheeks. Thankfully, they don’t comment when Yoongi enters your apartment after you, but they do giggle when his coat gets caught on the door handle in his rush.

When the two of you are finally alone, the air isn’t as awkward as you had feared. You work like two cogs in a machine; he readies your TV and scrolls through your Netflix for a movie, while you go to your kitchen and have a small mental breakdown (while also microwaving some popcorn). Soon, the two of you are snuggled into your small couch, elbows barely brushing against each other.

You’re only half paying attention to the generic action movie that Yoongi had put on; you were still deep in your thoughts. You’re picking away at your hangnail, worrying your lip as you try to enjoy what might be the last time you’ll ever get to hang out with Yoongi again. You’re so deep in your musings that you don’t immediately feel when Yoongi wraps his arms around your shoulder, nestling your head into his chest.

“W… What?” You crane your head and stare at Yoongi in shock, but he’s already returned his attention back to the movie. His cheeks are burning.

You’re still stiff with tension despite his comforting caresses against your hair, so he changes tactics and brings your hand up to his.

You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but he keeps bringing your hand up until it gently caresses his face. Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, he curls your fingers until only your pointer is left unfurled, and casually uses it to poke himself in the cheek.

He leaves it there for a second or two, and when you finally turn to face him, he’s smiling so sweetly at you that you almost feel compelled to cry again. His eyes and nose are all scrunched up, rose petal gums on full display. Your finger is still pressed gently into his soft cheeks.

“You said you liked to dream about poking my bread cheeks. Well, here’s your chance,” he says, like it’s nothing at all. As if what he has done was as simple as breathing.

Yoongi’s smile brightens when he feels your form relax against him, giggling softly when you go to pinch his cheek for good measure.

“Bread cheekies,” you say, like you’re in a trance.

Yoongi nods. “Bread cheekies,” he repeats. “And it’s all yours.”

There’s a promise in there, you know. Somehow, he had sensed your worry and had thought of the perfect way to calm you. Like always, he never has to say it. He’s never needed words, anyway.

The two of you stay like that for hours. The sun sets as surely as the moon rises, and Min Yoongi stays with you through the night. When your mind drifts off and only your steady breathing fills the room, Min Yoongi brushes a small kiss against your forehead.

“Dream of happiness, my love,” he whispers into your skin, just when he thinks you’re asleep, “I’ll dream of you, too.”

It’s a promise that he keeps.

There is a boy you know who never learned how to say he loves you, but it never mattered all that much to you––not when he’s willing to show you over and over again. It goes something like this––

[taetaespeaches]

“It’s everything to lose.”

taehyung x reader/oc  (but also jimin x platonic reader/oc) genre: angst word count: 6K

a/n: well, this was a process to write lol. Basically, Peaches/reader and Tae are experiencing a mix of feelings due to their best friends’ (Jimin and Dear) break up. Fears of a possible relationship with each other are worsened, plus, Tae and Peaches are just sad because their closest friends are sad. Also, Peaches finally talks to Jimin for the first time after he broke up with Dear, so that’s a big part of this as well. And we get a brief moment between Peaches and Dear, our ride or die duo. Ok, that’s really it. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :))

Grasping the back of your neck, you massaged your muscles as you yawned, your eyes set on the coffee percolating into the pot. You loved your best friend, and of course you wanted to be there for her, but her post-break up antics were beginning to wear on you as you failed to get accustomed to running on five or less hours of sleep night after night.

Leaning over the countertop, you looked through your most recent texts with your other best friend, Taehyung. The conversation, which started with him bragging about an amazing waffle he had just eaten, had turned a bit sour as you both defended opposing friends in their recent breakup.

It was hard to find common ground with the man these days, as he was on tour with the antagonist of your friends’ little drama, and you were in a constant state of being the shoulder to cry on for the dear protagonist. A sigh slipped from your lips as you scanned through the messages, the grumbling of the coffee pot sounding in the otherwise silent apartment.

You: He dumped her through text while he was away on tour. That’s fucking ridiculous and it’s cowardly.

Tae: You don’t know what’s going through his mind though.

You: There’s obviously not much going through his mind.

Tae: He’s your friend too.

You: And he broke my best friend’s heart.

Tae: I know that. I’m sorry, I hate this whole situation.

You: Me too. I’m sorry and I hate it too.

Tae: Is she at your place again?

You: No, I’m sure she will be but right now she’s out drinking with those stupid friends she has.

Tae: Oh….

You: Yeah. I’m anxious as fuck. I wanted to keep her from going out but you know, I can’t do that. She has to do what she’s gonna do.

Tae: I’m sorry to add to your stress.

Tae: She’ll be ok, Peaches.

You: No, it’s ok, you could never truly add to my stress. You’re my comfort, Tae, you know that.

Tae: I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle like this.

You: I’m sorry you are too. I’m gonna try to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, have a good night, Dearest.

Tae: Sweet dreams, Peaches.

Craving for two seconds away from the ongoing story of your friends’ turbulent romance, you scrolled up on your text conversation with Tae, a faint smile appearing on your lips at the photo of a waffle the size of the plate it sat upon, followed by a photo of Taehyung shoving a massive bite into his mouth.

Tae: It’s definitely big enough for the both of us but since you’re not here I guess I’ll have to manage it alone.

Tae: I miss sharing breakfast foods with you.

Tae: Never mind, this is so good, I’m glad you’re not here to eat it all.

Your brief moment of relief was broken when your screen changed to display a caller you were not prepared to speak to. Guilt and anxiety settled into your stomach as your breathing hitched slightly at the image of his name and photo. The contact ID reminded you of simpler times, the man pulling a silly expression with his chin tucked into his neck to give himself two of them. He had called you a few times the past couple days, but you’d consistently ignored them, trying to avoid hearing the voice of the man you considered one of your closest friends.

You almost didn’t answer again. Looking to the room your best friend slept in, a serious hangover awaiting her on the other side of slumber, your thumb pressed on the green circular button on the right side of the screen.  

Pausing a moment, you shook your head before raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice hushed as to not wake up the girl a few rooms away. A rush of air sounded through the phone, as if the man was sighing in relief, but that was the only response you received. “Jimin,” you sighed.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly, defeat coating his tone. He must not have had the strength to pretend to be ok.  

Another awkward pause ensued, both of you waiting for the other to break the silence first. With another sigh, you stood up straight, turning your back to the counter as you leaned against it. “Can you say something?” You asked.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted lamely, you licking your lips which became quite dry suddenly.  

“You called me,” you pointed out, annoyance in your words that wasn’t intentional but was true to your current mood. “You’ve been calling me for days, but you don’t know what to say?”

“I didn’t think you’d answer,” he said shakily, and you were sure there were tears bubbling up in his eyes.

Hearing the sadness in his tone, you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to conceal your own emotions in response to his tone. You weren’t sure your feelings even mattered right then. “Well I answered,” you told him, in a sort of assurance. Assurance of what, neither of you were sure, but it allowed Jimin a small sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” the man whispered, causing you to clench your teeth to hold back your pity and consideration for him as you turned back around to the coffee machine.

“Don’t thank me,” you told him, a slight anger behind your tone. “What do you want to say? I have errands I need to run.”  

As Jimin prepared his words, going through his mind to figure out exactly why he was calling you, you patiently waited, halting your movements as your hand sat on the handle of the coffee pot. You knew he needed time to gather his thoughts, and though you were angry with him, you cared for him enough to give him that. “I just miss you,” he admitted, a crack in his voice indicating the earnest admission.

Taking in a shaky breath, you let it out in a wobbly exhale. “Of course I miss you too,” you said honestly. You refused to lie to him about that. “But I don’t want to talk to you, Jimin.”

His words tumbled out of him bitterly, but it was shrouded in frustration, which you believed to be with himself. “You were my friend first,” he said, uncertain whether he regretted the comment or not.

“I’m still your friend,” you told him adamantly, though your voice was still quiet.  

“Then please talk to me,” he begged, almost desperate for the affection you normally showed him. Well, that you showed him before he broke your best friend’s heart.

“I can’t,” you told him trying to sound stern, but your exhausted state ruining your feeble attempt to put up a front.

A sniffle sounded through the phone, adding to the heaviness in your heart. “Why not?”

Holding the phone to your ear with one hand, you moved your other from the coffee pot to the top of your head as you scratched your roots in frustration and distress. “I can’t risk saying something awful to you,” you confessed through an unsteady voice. And that was it. You were angry with him, but you didn’t want to hurt him. “I love you, you’re one of my favorite people on this entire planet, Jimin,” you cried, your sniffling giving away your emotion to the man on the other side of the phone.

“I’m sorry,” he told you in a rush as you wiped away a tear.

“I see her every day,” you told Jimin in a whisper, ensuring your voice was too low for your friend to hear you if she suddenly awoke. However, you were sure the quietness of your voice was giving away that the woman he still loved was just feet away from you; just feet away from the conversation currently taking place, asleep in your spare bedroom. “I’m so mad at you, Jimin, god I’m mad at you,” your voice suddenly broke, no longer able to hold back the pent-up emotions. If Jimin’s thoughts had strayed to the girl nearby, the sound of your distressed voice surely brought him back to the present conversation; the present state of your friendship. “I need to process all of this before I talk to you because I love you and I can’t say something I’ll regret or something I don’t mean,” you explained as tears spilled over your lash line.

“I understand,” he said roughly, clearing his voice right after as if he was trying to pull himself together for your sake.

“I just-” You paused, holding your breath as you attempted to swallow more tears. “I need time so I can forgive you,” you told him sadly, clenching your fist together as you tried to steady your breathing. “I’m sorry,” you told him, your voice just above a whisper.

“Please don’t apologize,” he begged, choking back a sob. “I get it, take your time,” he assured you. “I’m really sorry for doing this,” he admitted sadly. The man sounded regretful and broken, your pity for him swirling around in the whirlwind of emotions you were currently experiencing. “All of it.”

You knew that was true. You knew he still loved her. And you knew he felt immense guilt for what he did to her, you, Taehyung, your whole friend unit, but mostly her. That much was obvious.  

“I do miss you,” you assured him through a small whimper, choosing to give him the reassurance rather than responding to his apology. “I won’t be mad forever.”

“I miss you too,” he told you sorrowfully. “I’ll be here whenever your feelings change.”

With that, you ended the call, leaving Jimin alone in his hotel room. Setting the phone to the counter, you wiped your face once more before grabbing the handle of the coffee pot, pouring some into the mug you had taken out earlier.

Thinking upon your conversation with Jimin, you wanted nothing more than to scream at him; tell him what an idiot he was. But you also wanted to wrap him up in a hug and tell him that he would be ok. You were my friend first. You scoffed, thinking of his remark, though a tear slid down your cheek. You wanted to be there for your friend, but how could you be when your other friend was just down the hallway, passed out after a night of trying to numb her heartache through the use of alcohol? He caused that pain. You were right to be mad at him… weren’t you?

It was almost astonishing how things, seemingly meant to be, could fall apart right before your eyes. Things weren’t always easy for Jimin and your friend, but they loved each other. One would think that love would be enough to get them through. But maybe love isn’t enough. Maybe fate isn’t enough.

Fate. Soulmates. They’re interesting concepts. Souls destined to find each other. But the rhetoric surrounding these notions don’t suggest that you’ll end up together.

But maybe if Jimin and your friend could see past everything that went wrong, they would find something worth fighting for still. It wasn’t simple, but it could be simpler for them.  

Something also simple but not simple at all was you and Taehyung. More and more recently, you had been realizing how much you love him. Maybe you both were meant to be together too. Tied together by the fate of your souls. But seeing how things can fall apart, perhaps it’s more risk than it’s worth. Wasn’t it better to have Tae in your life in the role of your best friend than it was to complicate things and lose him? You couldn’t lose him. You wouldn’t let yourself.

You sniveled as you brought the coffee to your lips, making an attempt at a deep breath before taking a sip. Your emotions needed to be locked down by the time your friend awoke. However, that concern came too late as two arms wrapped around your middle, the surprise affection causing you to jump in start.

The presence of her limbs were tentative as he she carefully rested the side of her face against your back. Breathing out in a huff, you relaxed a bit. “Jesus,” you spoke softly, but your friend gave you no response. Alarm bells went off in your head as her body trembled just slightly against yours. “You ok?” You asked, setting the mug down carefully.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed against you, and as your mind went into high alert, your heart plummeted into your gut. Immediately, you turned in her arms, wrapping your own around the back of her head, holding her impossibly close to you. Sorry?

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you assured her, leaving a kiss to the side of her head on the top of her hair. “Absolutely nothing.”

“My behavior last night could use an apology,” she admitted, causing you to smile slightly though she couldn’t see it with her face buried against your neck.

“Well, maybe that,” you teasingly agreed, thinking back to the few hours earlier in which you had to drive to the club she was at because she had broken down on the dance floor. All anger, if there was any to begin with, however, had completely dissolved when you pulled up outside the establishment to find her sitting against the wall in the cold, mascara stains down her cheeks as she sobbed about how much her heart hurt. “But are you even apologizing for that?” You asked her, realizing she must have heard you on the phone with her ex.

“Partially,” she cried harder. She knew the strain the breakup had put on all four of you, and though it wasn’t her fault, she still felt guilty. You knew she did. Her heart was too soft for her to not take some sort of blame.

Allowing her to cry in your arms, you moved your hand to the back of her head as you tried to make her feel safe. “You’re gonna be ok,” you whispered to her repeatedly in a gentle tone.

After a few moments, she pulled away to look at you, your thumbs moving to her cheeks to wipe the tears away, though more continued to fall, quickly replacing them.

“How is he?” She suddenly asked you, her lip trembling as she held back a sob.

Scanning her features carefully, you debated your answer. If you told her he was ok, it would make her feel pitiful for not being ok, plus it would be a lie. If you told her he wasn’t ok, it could possibly hurt her even more. Locking your eyes on her pleading ones, you sighed. “About as good as you,” you told her simply, holding back your own tears as she broke down, your arms wrapping around her shoulders to bring her close once again.

Placing a hand back against her head, you held her to you tightly. “Why does that make me feel worse?” She asked against your shoulder, her voice muffled from your sweatshirt.

“Oh babe,” you spoke softly near her ear, a tear slipping from the inner corner of your eye. “Because you still love him.”

You weren’t sure if you should have said that, but it was true. And maybe if she heard it from you, she would face those feelings. As she cried against you, your mind raced over everything that had happened that morning already. Everyone was so broken, and suddenly your mind found its way to Taehyung. Because he was the only one you wanted to talk to in that moment. He was your comfort.

But what if you didn’t have him anymore? Two people as meant to be as Jimin and the girl in your arms couldn’t even make it work. Add in your fickleness in love, and where did that leave your odds at success with Tae? You refused to break him, and you couldn’t lose him. You just couldn’t.

Hauling your groceries through your apartment, your phone started ringing in your pocket. Rushing to the kitchen, you set the bags on the floor before grabbing the device, finding Tae on the other side of the video call.

Accepting it, you waited for his face to appear on the screen before greeting him. “Hi,” you answered in a huff, Tae immediately chuckling at your hectic state.

“Hey,” he greeted, “Are you busy?”

“No,” you shook your head, dropping the phone to the counter just after speaking the word, causing the man to giggle further. “Just got home from grocery shopping,” you told him as you discarded your bag off your shoulder and onto the countertop. Taehyung hummed in response just as you propped the phone up against the side of your bag, situating it so he could see you as you stood in your kitchen.

“Did you get anything fun?” He asked, as you scanned the bags on the floor.

“Um,” you cut yourself off with a yawn, “I got those cookies you like,” you spoke through your exhale, looking at him through the screen to take in his appearance. “You look handsome,” you told him, the man smiling slightly at you as you stared at his still damp hair atop his head, giving away that he had showered recently.

“You tired?” He asked suddenly, being met with your groan as you stared down at the groceries without moving. “What happened last night?”

“Well, she went out with those friends and of course it was too soon for her to be out partying and I had to pick her up at 2 am outside of the club because she had a break down,” you ranted to him as you knelt down to begin taking items out of the grocery bags.

“Jesus,” he sighed, your eyebrows raising at his response.

“What?” You questioned defensively, piling items onto the floor as you emptied all the bags.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he tried to evade your anger. “I’m assuming she’s not there right now?”

“No, she went back to her place for a bit,” you told him. “What was with the judgmental tone just now?” You pressed.

Looking up at the phone, you watched as shook his hair out with his hand. “It’s just, that’s not really fair to you, is it?”

Scoffing at him, you stood, not bothering to look at the phone as you brought some juice and a few other items to the refrigerator.

“I just mean, you deserve some rest,” he added. “A break maybe.”  

“Well I don’t get a break because your best friend broke up with mine and she’s devastated,” you said coldly, shutting the fridge door and turning back to face the device.

“He’s your friend too,” he reminded you, his eyebrows raised, causing you roll your eyes.

“I know that,” you said in annoyance. “But you don’t see what she’s going through every day,” you pointed out, feeling protective over your friend and her broken heart.

Reaching to grab a box of crackers off the floor, you headed toward the cupboard as Taehyung told you, “You really should talk to him.”

Letting out a dry laugh, you nodded to yourself. “Tae, she’s my best friend,” you reminded him once more.

“I get that, but he’s your friend too,” he repeated, causing you to sigh. “He’s going through stuff too,” he added. You wanted to scoff, but if you were being honest with yourself, your anger towards Jimin had diminished significantly since speaking to him briefly that morning.

“Well,” you thought out loud, facing the man once more. Folding your arms over your ribcage, you shrugged. “I’m sure he is but he did this,” you said, trying to remain firm in your coldness.

You were met with the sound of Taehyung breathing out slowly as his eyes stayed locked on you. “That’s not really fair, he’s hurting too,” Taehyung defended his friend.

“I love Jimin,” you clarified. “But I don’t have time to think about him when she’s at my place all the time because she can’t handle being alone in her own apartment for a single night,” you told him, staring at him as you waited for him to respond. Taehyung ran his tongue over his bottom lip as you sighed. “I know Jimin is hurting, but she is too. And it’s bad, Tae,” you told him sadly.

Taehyung sighed as you stared at him through the phone, waiting for his next words. “I know, I don’t mean to be insensitive to her. I know he hurt her, I get that. I’m just here with him and he’s a fucking mess,” Tae huffed. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted sadly, giving you a defeated shrug.

Stepping closer to the phone, you shook your head slowly. “I don’t either,” you admitted. You both sat in silence for a moment, watching each other through opposite sides of the phone, your remaining groceries still waiting on the floor.

Taehyung was the first to break the silence, asking, “What are you thinking?”

Sighing, you ran your hands over your face. “I don’t even know, I’m just-” you stopped yourself, not sure if you should speak your next words; because of the implication to you and Tae.

“What is it?” He pressed, resituating himself on the bed as he sat laid across a pillow, his head supported by his hand. “Peaches,” he said gently, causing you to relent.

“Maybe they shouldn’t have ever gone from friends to more,” you thought aloud, Tae’s silence feeling heavy on your heart as he tried his best to keep his face from giving away any emotion.

“You think?” He asked simply, his feigned indifference covering up the hurt you knew was there.

“It’s just a hard leap to make,” you explained, leaning against the counter on your elbows, holding your chin in your hands. “If it doesn’t work, this is where it leaves you.” Your eyes were glued to the phone as you watched him carefully. Suddenly, you felt angry at these fucking phone companies who couldn’t make a better camera or give you a better connection to be able to read the emotions flashing through his eyes and features more closely.

“Sometimes it works though,” he told you quietly, his voice nearly shaking, almost as if he was meekly defending himself.

A lump formed in your throat that you didn’t believe you’d be able to ever swallow, knowing you were the cause of the sadness he was feeling. “But if it doesn’t, that’s a lot to lose,” you argued, your voice faint as the emotions sat in your vocal chords.

“But it can work,” he said a bit louder than his last comment, his voice more assured as he licked his lips.

“Tae,” you sighed, cocking your head to the side just slightly. You both knew you were no longer talking about your friends’ experience with moving from friends to lovers. There had never been any confirmation from either you or Taehyung, but sometimes it seemed as though there was an unspoken understanding of how you both thought of each other.

“Look at Jin,” Taehyung countered, pointing to the fact that Jin and his old friend had successfully added romance to their relationship over a year earlier. “They’re doing really well, they’re happy.”

“Tae,” you called out to him gently, attempting to swallow as your eyes shined with emotion. When he responded with his silence, his sad eyes scanning over your features carefully, you chewed on your bottom lip as you attempted to hold in your emotion. “It’s a lot to lose,” you whispered, holding his gaze. “It’s everything to lose,” you added, blinking a few times as Taehyung looked down to the bed and began picking at the comforter. A few seconds of silence went by and you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you suddenly exhaled, feeling breathless and tired. “Dearest,” you addressed him softly.

“No, you’re right,” he said half-heartedly, keeping his eyes directed downward. “It is everything to lose,” he agreed with a small nod, looking up to you.

“Everything, Tae,” you emphasized, hoping he would recognize that he was everything to you.

“You really should talk to Jimin,” he changed the topic, his tone stronger as he seemed to easily move on from your unspoken confessions. Inhaling deeply, you nodded slowly, standing up straight before moving back to the groceries. Trying to shake yourself out of the conversation that just took place, you spotted the cookies sitting on the floor.

“I’ll think about it,” you replied before reaching for the package. “I’m not gonna save you any of these,” you teased, holding them up for him to see as his lips spread into a mildly amused grin.

“Well I didn’t save you any of the waffle so it’s only fair,” he played along, both of you pushing aside the tension between you both once more.

You would think about talking to Jimin, you meant that. But it would be hard to think of anything but Taehyung.  

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you sighed deeply as you tried to muster up some courage. Lowering your digit to the phone screen before you could change your mind, you nervously raised the device to your ear.

The rings were deafeningly loud as you awaited the answer, running your hand through your hair and chewing on your bottom lip; nervous gestures.

“Hey,” Jimin greeted suddenly, his voice appearing breathless as if he rushed to the phone.

“Why’d you do it?” You asked him, skipping greetings and pleasantries. A moment of silence encased the phone call before Jimin sighed.

“I don’t even fucking know anymore,” he said, a sob following the words as if he had been sitting on the edge of a break down for days; weeks. The confusion and heartbreak in his tone shattered your heart, filling you with guilt for evading his calls and texts for so long. “I don’t know if there was even a valid reason and I regret it so much.”

“I don’t understand what happened,” you admitted, thinking back upon their relationship and what they had revealed to you.

“Me either,” he barely spoke through his cracked voice. “I don’t know, it’s like, as secure as we made each other feel, it was like we could never fully rid ourselves of our own insecurities,” he explained through his cries. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” He asked as he held back tears.

“Oh Jimin,” you sighed, realizing what drove them apart. And suddenly, you had the urge to wrap them both up in hugs because in an instant, there was nowhere to place the blame you were previously placing on Jimin. It was both their faults, and also no one’s fault. Jimin had made the wrong move, your best friend didn’t make enough moves, and yet they were both just victims to their own intrusive perceptions of themselves.

“Our own shit just got in the way and-” he let out a harsh breath. “When I sent the text I immediately regretted it and I was just trying to convince myself that it was for the best,” he sniffled. “And I was about to take it all back and beg for forgiveness, fuck, I was thinking about leaving tour and coming back to her so we could fix whatever the fuck was causing all of this shit between us,” he paused as his cries took over.

“Why didn’t you take it all back?” You asked him.

You collected up the patience as you gave him time the time to think back on the breakup. “All of a sudden, she just stopped fighting,” he said sadly. “We were always fighting for each other, and she finally stopped. And I don’t know, I think it kind of cemented the idea that I did the right thing. It hurt, and it felt wrong, but she accepted the breakup and gave up.”

“Fuck, Jimin,” you held back your tears at the defeat in his voice. “She didn’t stop fighting for you, she just didn’t have enough fight left in her to take on your insecurities any longer,” you told him.  

“What’s even the difference?” He asked. “Whether she stopped fighting willfully, or whether I took the fight out of her,” he scoffed, “I became too much for her.”

“I don’t think you could ever be too much for her,” you assured him. “Look, do you want me to speak to you compassionately or truthfully?” You asked, the question being met with a dry laugh.

“You’re always compassionate, but I want the truth,” he told you, you nodding though he couldn’t see it.

“You fucked up,” you told him, “but also I don’t think this is entirely your fault,” you quickly added. With a sigh, you thought out loud. “How do I word this?” you pondered. “You two are two of the most incredible people I’ve ever known and yet, you guys can’t fucking see it.”

Jimin scoffed, making you roll your eyes. “I said I was speaking truthfully, so just listen to me and try to actually hear what I’m saying for once,” you told him, the man agreeing to listen by giving you his silence. “You see how incredible she is and that makes you insecure because you don’t see yourself living up to what she deserves. And it’s the same for her, she doesn’t think she can be what you need and what you want, despite you assuring her constantly that she’s everything to you. And that holds you both back from being exactly what the other person wants,” you paused for a moment, letting the words permeate Jimin’s brain. “If you two could just be who you are and give each other that version of yourselves, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” you explained to him. “She fell in love with you, she just wants you.”

“Fuck,” he sobbed, the pained understanding echoing in his single expression. “But I fucked it up, I hurt her and I don’t think we can fix it this time.”

“I truly do not understand how you can be so wrong about this all the fucking time,” you groaned. “She is in love with you,” you told him, enunciating the words carefully. “You hurt her, and you hurt her bad, but she hasn’t given up on you,” you told him. “Whether she admits it or not, she’s waiting for you to fix it,” you informed the man. “So fucking fix it. Stop holding yourself back and just be happy, Jimin.”

“I don’t know if-”

“Be happy,” you interrupted him. “Stop being so idiotic and just fight for your happiness. Fight for hers,” you begged him, frustration over both of your friends’ moronic actions getting the best of your patience. “You both deserve each other because you’re both the best,” you went on, trying to convey to the man how strongly you felt he and the girl you both adored belonged with each other.

“She still loves me?” He asked, being met with another one of your groans. “Sorry, I just, she does?”

“Do you still love her?” You asked, knowing the answer but wanting him to speak it out loud so maybe he could truly hear it.

“With all of me,” he admitted sadly, a sniffle following the words, allowing you to visualize the tears running down his cheeks in that moment.  

“Do you really think that’s one sided?” You asked him.  

“I really don’t know,” he admitted, a small sigh leaving your lips.  

“It’s so simple but you guys make it so complicated,” you complained, the man giving you the slightest chuckle in the form of a single exhale. “You both lost the fight, but you didn’t lose the fight for each other, you lost it to yourselves. Does that make sense?” You asked.

“I think so?” He said, thought it came out as a question.

“You guys were defeated by your own insecurities. It’s not like you chose to give up on her, just like she didn’t choose to give up on you. You both just feel hopeless right now, that’s-”

“It’s not hopeless?” He asked, and despite the negative comment, there was a renewed optimism in his tone that lifted your lips into a faint smile.

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s not hopeless.” You both sat in silence, nothing but your breaths sounding into the phone receivers. “I’ll talk to her,” you assured him. “If I get any sense that she doesn’t want you anymore, I’ll let you know and I’ll be full of apologies and you can hate me forever,” you told him.

“I could never hate you,” he scoffed.

“But if I’m right, which I know I am, Jimin, I know it,” you assured him, “then you need to find that hope and bring it back to her.”

With a sigh, Jimin agreed with a simple, “ok.”

“Ok,” you replied. “Fix it.”

“I hope I can,” he spoke softly, his voice still sad, but much less defeated than the start of the conversation.

“Hope is enough right now,” you told him.

“Thank you for finally talking to me,” he said, a hint of a smile evident in his voice.

“Thank Tae,” you corrected. “He talked me into it.”

“He really is the only one who can cut through your stubbornness, huh?” He asked teasingly, you chuckling lightly in response.

“I guess he is,” you agreed.

“Speaking of simple but making it complicated though,” Jimin noted, drawing upon your earlier words, and reflecting them back on you and your relationship with Taehyung.

“Tae and I aren’t complicated,” you negated Jimin’s observation, only to be met with a disbelieving laugh. “We aren’t,” you remained firm. “I know it seems complicated but, when it comes down to it, it’s the simplest thing ever.”

“Ok, break it down for me then,” Jimin asked for your elaboration. “How is it simple?”

“Because at the end of the day, we just love each other. So much so, that we’ll do anything to keep one another in each other’s lives,” you explained. “And that makes my relationship the simplest, easiest relationship I’ve ever had.”

Jimin hummed in return, thinking over your words. “That does sound simple, I guess,” he agreed. “But are you happy?”

You paused for a moment, surprised by the question. Were you? Were you fulfilled with Tae’s role in your life as you went and dated other people, finishing each escapade craving for more, anxious for the night to be over so you could call Taehyung and hear his voice as he expressed whatever was on his mind? The truth was, no one was or ever would be Taehyung. No matter how great they were, no matter how smart, kind, funny, genuine they were, they would never be him. But Taehyung was in your life, and maybe that was enough. So, were you happy? Turns out that’s the most complicated question you could have been asked.

“This isn’t about me,” you told Jimin with a small smile.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Are you happy?”

“I’m not unhappy,” you said assuredly. That was true, for sure.

“But is that happy?” Jimin pressed, causing you to sigh in annoyance.

“It’s happy enough,” you told him. “But one of us has to be happy, right?” You turned it back on him.

Jimin breathed out your name, but you dismissed him. “This is about you right now,” you told him. “If you fix things on your end, then we can entertain a discussion about my happiness, ok?” You asked him, though it wasn’t really a topic up for debate which he understood.

“Deal,” he agreed with a light chuckle.

Happiness, you thought. What was it? You were sure it was different for everyone. Just as you were sure it comes from many different sources. For you, though, your main source of happiness was seeing Taehyung smile. His happiness mattered most in terms of your relationship. And if he was happy being your friend and having you as his, then you were happy. Happy enough.

If he wasn’t happy… well, something would have to be done about that.

[asphalt-cocktail]

Hear me out..kay?

'70s John Lennon with younger female home assistant reader getting into a lil dispute because John thinks he let himself go after the Beatles broke up, but the reader believes otherwise and it ends up in the two of them having passionate/slightly rough sex because he's more or so angry with himself than anything? And the two of them are really close too, like John allows her to watch Julian and Sean when he's at the studio or on business trips?? And the two boys genuinely like her???

(a universe where he isn't married to yoko ((no hate intended)) and is single and happy that way..)

Oh my god, I love this idea! 70s john is so pretty. I love how he looks as he gets older. it’s like fine wine. Some of the ages might not add up but we’ll call this an AU for the sake of consistency!

Warnings: Some smudges of angst, smut, insecurities, language

Also it got WAY longe than I expected so i got a little carried away. 

As John slept, he dreamt he sat perched on a throne made bones. It overlooked a high cliff that faced the ocean where the wind burned his face and he could hear seagulls screaming in the background.

He was alone. For once he wished he had the screaming crowds and bandmates calling his name. But only the shrieking gulls filled his ears.

The dream seemed to go on for two lifetimes and the atmosphere felt staticky as the waves repeatedly crashed against the shores and hit the rocks. At times he could feel the soft kiss of saltwater sprinkling against his face.

He blinked for the first time in what felt like ages and suddenly his throne of bones began to collapse, he grasped at them panicked as he desperately tried to prevent himself from falling. Just as his footing slipped John shot up in his bed breathing heavily. He blinked to clear the bleariness that had settled from sleep and palmed his bedside table for his glasses and crudely wiped them on his sheets to clear the fingerprints before slipping them on. 

Suddenly the room was clear, and the sound of gulls was replaced with Sean’s squealing laughter. It helped John feel grounded in his brief moment of panic. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Christ, what did he have to do today again? John ran his fingers through is knotted hair and slipped out of his bed. Right, he had to do several interviews to promote his new album and single that was just released then he had a dinner party. He grimaced at the thought of having to sit for several hours with a group of yuppies and pretend to enjoy their conversation.

As John walked through is bedroom he slipped on a pair of slippers and his dressing gown before stopping in front of his full length mirror. He gave his belly a firm pat, he’d lost a significant amount of weight in the last five years, mostly from depression, but it was still a small victory in his eyes. Atleast he had that going for him.

The bedroom door open and John found himself lured to the kitchen by the smell of syrup and pancakes. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile, “You’re early.” He greeted you.

You shrugged your shoulders, not looking up from the batter as you poured it into the skillet, “I know I thought my exam was going to take much longer than it did.” You said sheepishly. John had been gracious enough to accept you as his assistant and sometimes nanny. He was nice and the job helped you learn a lot about public relations and management, which is what you had hoped to do after you’d graduated from university. 

“Do you want some pancakes? Sean helped with them.” You said waving the ladle towards John.

He shrugged, still groggy from sleep. He really didn’t want any, but the way Sean stared at him with his big black eyes begging changed his mind. He sighed after his idle moment in thought and nodded his head, “I suppose I should see what the little chief has made for us.” He smiled and ruffled the kid’s hair.

After breakfast John rushed to get ready, “And you’re okay with taking Julian to piano lessons? Remember Sean still needs to finish that cough medicine from his cold earlier last week, and they can’t stay up past-” he rushed out his of things that he now only worried about due to having children.

You placed your hand on John’s arm and gave him a look, “John I’ve worked with you for almost three years, I think I can handle a day of babysitting. Julian will get to piano lesson on time and Sean will get his medicine; and don’t worry I won’t give them any sugar past 6pm.” John chose to ignore the little wink you gave Julian and Sean from the other side of the room.

He let out a sigh and his shoulders relaxed, “I know, I just” Worry I’m not good enough, his intrusive thoughts echoed in his mind and he shook his head before sharply inhaling, “I just worry about them, you know how it is.” You didn’t, you weren’t a parent. But you understood a little bit with where he was coming from.

You gave John a sympathetic nod and patted his shoulder, “Go on, you’re going to be late for the interview.” You said and turned him, pushing him towards the door.

A small smile settled on John’s face, it didn’t matter if he left for 8 hours or a full week, he still gave you the same reminders and the same list when Yoko or Cynthia couldn’t take the kids. John rushed out the door and you turned towards the boys and grinned at them. They were both nice, Julian had a wee bit of an attitude, but you chocked it up to him being in double digits while Sean was a curious and surprisingly even-tempered boy.

You made sure Julian got to and from piano lessons okay and wrestled with Sean to take the last dose of his medication, bribing him with some cookies. The remainder of the afternoon and evening you watched a movie with them, walked in the park, and drew pictures of the cats.

At lunch time John called to check in on the boys and to let you know it was going to be a late night, after reassuring him everything was fine you resumed your conversation with Sean about some fabulous story he was making up.

John sat at the dinner party, poking at his food and listening to his scientist friend tell them about a fancy new machine they got at work. The autoclave used immense amounts of heat and pressure to sterilize items, nothing survived the autoclave. In that moment John decided he saw some of his own likeness in the machine. As the voices turned to mumbles and John fell deep into thought he found that his own heart was harsh an inhospitable, much like the machine. That was why he was mostly alone in his 17-room apartment in New York City. His two wives couldn’t even make his home their home, and when he received a phone call from Cynthia or Yoko saying they were coming to pick the children up or to send them home on the morrows next fight he couldn’t say it struck him by surprise.

As the evening grew late you put Sean to bed and then an hour later you sent Sean to bed, much to your surprise neither of the boys fought with you tonight over why it was unfair they had different bedtimes or how they should be allowed to stay up later because it was summertime.

Infomercials from the television droned in your ears and lulled you to sleep as you sprawled out on the couch. A hand touching your shoulder caused you to jump and you blinked before John came into focus, “I’m home, you can stay the night in the guest room. It’s too late for you to go home alone.” He said kindly.

You rubbed your eyes and groggily sat up, “How did the meetings go today?” You asked after a deep yawn.

John’s face scrunched up, the way it did when he was frustrated and deep in thought, “It was alright.” He shrugged.

“What do you mean alright? You just released a new single, no one had an opinion on it?” You asked as you made your way through one of the many long hallways that made up his Dakota apartment.

John followed you, hoping for conversation and company, “I don’t know, I must have termites in me brain or something.” He frowned leaning against the door of the bathroom and watching you rummage through the cabinet for your spare toothbrush. Your movements moved on memory and you pushed aside the antacids and ibuprofen to get to the toothbrush you kept in the back of the medicine cabinet. The familiarity in your actions made John feel comforted.

“what do you mean?” You asked before you began brushing your teeth. You watched as John shifted, leaning against the door jam. He felt uncomfortable. You could tell.

He looked away from you, “I’m washed up I suppose.” He dug his shoe into the grout of the bathroom tile, “No one wants to listen to a former Beatle without the other three.” John wanted to open up to you but his body felt like an unstable bag of foam and bones and his ability to speak clearly vanished.

You spat out your toothpaste and wiped the remainder off with the towel that hung on the wall, “Oh come off it,” You scolded him, “You don’t mean that do you?”

Now it was your turn to follow John as he walked through the house, kicking his shoes off and tossing his jacket to the side, “That’s how it seems.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, “Every time I talk to one of these hokey television people, they just rub it in me face how successful Paul or George are doing.” He frowned, “And I’m just sitting here, a one hit wonder. No songs in the last five years.” He tugged open the door to his wardrobe and pulled out sleeping cloths and tossed them onto the bed, “Paul’s got his 87 children, and his new better band. What do I have?” His cheeks started turning red and his thick brows furrowed.

You listened to him complain about his imperfections, he obviously needed to get them off his chest, “John,” You said softly interrupting his monologue, “You don’t mean that.” You bluntly said.

John looked away from you and huffed loudly, “First I get called the fat Beatle, then I get torn to shreds for saying one thing about Christianity and now I can’t even write a damn song anymore.” He angrily pulled his shirt over his head, “If I can’t even write a damn song what use am I?” He continued to mumble to himself and tug the thin and worn sleep shirt over his head and stuck his arms through the hole.

You walked forward and boldly grabbed John’s wrist as he reached for his lounge pants, “Stop it,” You said in the same tone of voice you used to scold one of the children, “I don’t want to hear you say bad things about yourself that aren’t true.” Your brows knit together as John turned to look at you.

His eyes narrowed to little slits as he studied your face. John felt as though the throne of fame he once sat upon was now crumbling, much like in his dream “You’re just an assistant, you don’t know anything.” He said coldly and shrugged you off.

You know he didn’t mean it, but the words stung, “Yeah, I’m just your assistant who watches your kids, and takes them to piano lessons, and does your laundry, and brings you take away when you are too sad to leave your room.” You shot back.

Your words hit John like a 10-ton truck, and he looked at you shocked, none of his assistants had ever been this bold before. They all cowered beneath the mighty John Lennon, but you were different. Your tongue was just as sharp as his, and he hated to admit it; but he liked the way your brows furrowed, and your eyes ignited with fire every time you argued back at him. He wanted to get a rise out of you, so he pushed you, “I pay you for it, don’t go around thinking you’re special. I could post your job in the paper and have hundreds of college kids lining up to work for me.” He hissed stepping towards you.

You were backed into a wall, literally and figuratively, you felt at a loss for words. John was right and you both knew it, what was the worst that could happen if you pushed back a bit? “Do it, I dare you.” You scoffed and moved to push past him, “Surprised anyone would like to work for a washed-up Beatle.” You mumbled under your breath knowing that he would hear you.

John brought his arm up and pushed you back into your spot between the wall and pushed his lips against yours. It was hard and messy; your teeth clicked together, and your noses knocked. It took a moment for you to realize what was happening until John roughly shoved his knee between your legs. You let out a whimper feeling him pull away and start leaving hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and trailing down to your neck. Your chest heaved against him and you swallowed thickly, and you desperately tried to focus as he continued to latch onto your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, “John.” You whined and ground yourself against his thigh.

He loved how you practically purred his name as you spoke. John’s hands pushed down on your hips, helping you as you slid against his thigh with wanton need. Your breathy sighs sent a shiver that crept down his spine and settled in his belly, “We can stop, just say it and I’ll stop.” He said rubbing his nose along your jaw.

You swallowed thickly, “Please don’t,” You didn’t want to go back now.

John pulled away and pulled you by your wrist before pushing you back onto the bed. You bounced back against the plush large mattress and laid against the pillows and watched as John knelt between your legs. He rubbed his hands along your thighs and kissed you’re the skin that had become exposed from your shirt riding up and pushed it up more. He sucked and left kitten licks as he exposed more of you stomach and chest, kissing between your breasts and sucking at the soft skin on the sides.

John peeled your shirt off and in one swift movement your breasts were exposed and your top and underclothes tossed aside. He dove against your neck again, deepening the marks he’d already left prior and adding new ones, nipping at the skin and inhaling your scent. You reached your fingers and laced them in his soft long hair. You’d always wondered how it felt and how it smelt. You found yourself burying your nose into the side of his head and breathing deeply. He smelled like stale smoke, the gum he always chewed as a nervous habit, and like his eucalyptus shampoo. It made your brain feel dizzy.

Your legs wrapped around John’s narrow hips and pulled him flush against you. He groaned feeling your heat against his awakening erection and ground against you. he felt like he was 18 again, sneaking home some blurry faced bird through the back door at Mimi’s after coming home too late. But this felt better, it wasn’t some random company for the night; it was you.

The assistant he hired on a whim because he needed someone to watch Sean while he flew to LA for recording, the same person who folded his laundry, the first person he told of his divorce from Yoko. Even in his dream as he stood alone on the edge of the cliff as his throne collapsed, he knew if he called your name you would come.

Now, here he was; swallowing your moans eagerly in his mouth and listening as you left ragged breathy gasps in his ear as he ground against you. His hands fumbled with the buttons on your pants before he finally gave up and pulled them open, the small button popping off and bouncing to the other side of the room. John kissed your hips and along the lower half of your stomach and it twitched.

You squirmed, looking down and seeing his intently focused face as he yanked down your underwear and jeans and carelessly tossed them aside. You suddenly became aware of your nakedness as you stared down at John, fully clothed in a loose sleep shirt and the pants he wore today. Your eyes trailed his body and you sat up, tugging at his shirt. Your movements were hesitant and less confident than his. John’s hands guided his shirt up and he tugged it off, throwing it to join the rest of your discarded cloths and you ran a hand along his chest. Admiring the freckles and imperfections that made him distinctly human. He pulled back and shrugged his pants off and resumed his spot between your legs, pushing you back down.

John kissed the sides of your knees and made his way up your thighs, “Is this okay?” He murmured.

You shivered feeling his lips moving against your legs and nodded your head, urging him to continue. The pit of nervousness that settled in your belly violently vanished as you felt John’s hot tongue swipe between your folds and lap at you, “Jesus Christ,” You gasped out.

You could feel John smirk as he hooked his arms under your legs and pulled you close. He spread you apart, groaning and rubbing your clit with his thumb, “Has anyone ever done this to you before?” He asked glancing up at you.

You swallowed thickly and shook your head, “N-no,” You choked out.

John hummed acknowledging your answer and licked at your core again, taking his time to trace lazy shapes around the bundle of nerves. It sent a tingle that rang through your whole body, from the tips of your toes to your fingers and you desperately reached for John’s hair to keep him in place.

Your toes curled and you pressed John’s face closer against you and bucked your hips, grinding against his face. He groaned and pressed back, pulling you closer against his face. The plug between your brain and mouth disconnected and your mind felt like it was swimming. The string in your stomach tightened as you continued to grind against John’s tongue as he lapped at you. Your soft breathy sighs climbed in pitch before it snapped and your hips squirmed against him. John firmly held you down and he harshly rubbed your clit. The burning sensation caused your toes to curl, your eyes to blissfully shut, and made your legs shake. Your hips tried to jerk away from his hand, but he held you down, watching you writhe, jaw hanging slightly ajar.

“St-op” You choked out and gripped his wrist, letting out a sob as he pushed you to your peak once again. Your chest heaved and your legs shook as it washed through you. You curled into yourself and your face scrunched up.

John left you no room to breathe as he pulled your face close to his and captured your mouth in an open mouth. His tongue explored your mouth and you could taste yourself. You gripped at his forearms and pulled him back down, thumbing his briefs and tugging them down. John smiled against your mouth as he wiggled out of them, twisting his legs and shifting before he finally gave up and broke your kiss for a moment to tug them the rest of the way down.

You reached to kiss him and frowned as he pulled away, settling between your legs and rubbing his cock teasingly between your wet folds before he pushed in. You gasped, feeling John stretch you as his pelvis pushed against the back of your legs. He sat there for a moment and his face reached up and cupped yours as he hovered just inches away from your face.

You brought your hand up and placed it on John’s, his thumb traced your bottom lip and he slowly moved his hip, pushing deep inside you. Your mouth fell open and you let out a soft moan. John eagerly took the opportunity to slip his thumb into your mouth and pushed harder into you as your lips wrapped around it.

John’s hands gripped your hips as his picked-up speed, pulling them against him and making your skin slap together. He fell over you and you wrapped your arms around him pulling his body close to yours. His head fell next to your shoulder and he messily kissed up your shoulder and up to the side of your mouth before you captured his. Your kiss lacked tact and was only motivated by wanton need for each other. Your teeth clanked harshly together, and you clung to John as though he would vanish from you in an instant.

John broke the kiss and latched onto your neck once again, nipping at the skin and leaving a lingering and dull pain as he continued his trail before settling near your ear. John’s grunts and soft breathy sighs were perhaps the best sound’s you’d ever heard. In that moment you didn’t care that your bodies stuck together with sweat, or that your head kept bumping against the headboard.

You found yourself reaching for John and whimpering as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees and brought them up, leaning onto you and pushing deeper inside you. Your back arched off the mattress as he pulled back and began to slowly rut deep inside you.

John clenched his teeth together and hissed, feeling your walls twitching around him as he continued his languid pace, “Please,” You said softly, your brows knit together and your eyes looking helplessly up at him.

His lips spread into a knowing smirk, “Please what?” His voice sounded ragged and strained as he continued to tease you.

“More please,” You barely recognized the whiny tone of your voice.

“Yeah?” He asked and harshly snapped his hips against yours, “Like that?” He asked snapping them again. The headboard lightly tapped the wall as John’s thrusts grew harder and faster while your staccato moans followed jointly. John watched you, your mouth hanging open and skin shiny from the combination of his and your sweat that coated your body. He felt more human in this moment than he’d felt in a long time.

John’s brows knit together, and his thighs clenched, he didn’t want this to end. You pulled his arms and pulled him close to you, not caring if it seemed like you were being clingy, “Come inside me,” You breathed out next to his ear.

John’s body seized up and he huffed out a shaky haggard breath before he came, holding you close against his body and riding out the high that fogged over his senses.

For a moment he laid on top of you, softening inside you but enjoying the intimate closeness the two of you shared in your post coital haze. John kissed your shoulder before pulling back and kissing your lips. He pulled back and the two of you smiled at each other.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You couldn’t help but turn your head and breath out a small laugh before John rolled over to your side. The two of you laid on top of his wrinkled duvet staring at each other. You pursed your lips and remembered what you said earlier, “I didn’t mean it, what I said.” You said sheepishly looking away.

John’s expression was soft as he looked at you, “I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it either.” He said his arm now resting on your shoulder. He pulled you against his bare chest and you pushed your knee between his legs, entangling your bodies together as John held you. 

[1a-imagines]

An uncanny pair

Characters: wolf!Bakugo

Overview: After saving a dying wolf you made an unlikely friend, but how much will it cost you in the end?

Warnings: Mentions of blood.

A/n: i for real finished writing this whole thing and my brain was like. "Ok but, this concept would've been a better-" BUT I ALREAdY WROTE IT NOW U DUMBASS.

Smh

Anyway pls enjoy :>

"Don't you go too far into the woods, misses!" The old lady scolded you, she may be short but she also knew how intimidating. She was glaring at you with intense amber eyes, her lips pulled into a deep frown. You’d be a fool not to listen to her warning. Not to mention, you had seen her wrath first hand.

That poor thief… he did not see the old lady coming. You still recalled the day the thief entered her shop, with a shiver, he could never have known that this little old lady held immense power. You didn’t even understand why your town bothered knights and hunters, she seemed to be stronger than all of them combined.

“Yes Ma’am!” you saluted in a silly manner and the old lady hit your ankles with her cane. You let out a grunt and brought up your leg to rub the now red patch of skin on your foot with a frown. “At least you know how to show your elders some respect. Remember to be back before dark or else the whole town will panic and send out a search party. I don’t want to deal with that kind of headache.” The old lady continued to lecture you as you adjusted the bag by your side. You had to hold back the need to roll your eyes at her exaggeration, You didn’t even cause that much trouble!

“What would make you think that? I hold no importance here! Besides it’s only a 40 minute walk to the next town, I’ll be fine..” You shot back.

The town you were going to was much bigger than your own and therefore had a better range of supplies she only needed to buy some ingredients for dinner tonight. Her friends were coming to visit and she wanted to prepare something nice for them. “Perhaps not, but you’re friends with those two knights? Are you not? You know if you don't return before dark they’ll worry and bother all their fellow knight friends to go searching for you.”

You hummed at her reply, Izuku and Iida did tend to worry a bit too much. Uraraka would be sure to panic too. You recalled the first time they panicked and sent out a whole search party when you hadn’t returned before sunset. You had fallen down a small hill and twisted your ankle, so maybe you should feel lucky to have friends who cared about you so much? Otherwise, you would have been there for- who knows how long?

“I promise I’ll be back before dark, you don’t have to worry. I make this journey almost every week and nothing bad ever happens.” She reassured the little old lady who let out a sigh of exhaustion. “I’ll be holding you to that young lady- now run along.” She shooed you away and you smiled, sending her a wave.

You were thankful she took it upon herself to watch out and care for you. You lived alone in a cottage at the edge of town, You were very secluded and had no family to look out for you. That little old lady was the only person you had, and despite her slightly strict rules, and tough love, you appreciated and loved her as if she were your own grandmother.

You smiled as the edge of the forest came into view. There was something so great about being able to escape the town for a while and have some peace. Some might find it strange you enjoyed the forests so much, especially with all the monsters and danger that could be lurking about. Usually, monsters only came out at night, so you didn’t feel unsafe or anything, besides, you were pretty good at combat so you were confident you’d hold up well in a fight.

Still, most people preferred the comfort of the town. It had security, protection, there weren’t many things to worry about when in the town. There was food on your table and knights guarding your home to keep you safe.

But sometimes it got a bit suffocating. You liked to go on adventures, to feel free and see new things. Not to say you didn’t like your town. It was nice, everyone was like a big family, even if you lived alone you had many others who cared for you, who you could rely on. You felt pretty lucky to be a part of that town.

The forest was just a secret pleasure you liked escaping to every now and then.

You silently enjoyed your nature walk, keeping to the path as you indulge in the chirping of birds and the rustling of the trees. There was a gentle breeze, it was cool against your skin. Which was much appreciated since the sun was shining bright today.

It didn’t take much longer to get to the town.

Despite arriving early morning you ended up staying most of the day, looking around at all the expensive things you could only dream of buying, You greedily eyed down all of the delicious baked goods and foods the town had to offer, they made your stomach rumble and your mouth drool but you had only brought enough money for the ingredients you needed so you were left to silently drool.

Eventually, you tore yourself away from window shopping and gathered all the ingredients you needed for the dinner tonight.

You took one last stroll around the town, admiring how much bigger it was than your own, how the houses looked a lot more sturdy, how the streets were busy with people rushing around as if they have somewhere important to be. It was a completely different world to your own and you weren’t sure you would ever get used to it, no matter how many times you visited this place.

When you noticed the sun was getting closer to the mountain tops over the horizon you figured it was time to go home, you didn’t want to anger your granny by being late, especially not after her warnings.

As you walked back through the forest you noticed the air was a lot more chilly that this morning, there were no birds this time and the cold made you tighten your cloak around you. Nevertheless, you enjoyed the serenity all the same.

That was, until your peaceful walk was interrupted by a loud cry.

Not a human cry, but something else.

Your footsteps halted as you looked around for the source of the noise. You couldn’t see anything. It was silent for a while but you didn’t feel comfortable walking away, whatever it was, it sounded like it was in a lot of pain.

A few minutes later another cry sounded out and you were able to follow the general direction it was coming from. You followed the sound away from the footpath, your kind-hearted nature wouldn’t allow you to walk away, or maybe it was just curiosity? Either way, you went to investigate. You scanned through the trees until you eventually saw a patch of blood on the grass floor. Your lips parted as you gasped, the trail of blood led into a group of bushes. You bit your lip.

It seemed suspicious.

Luckily you had remembered your pocket knife. Your hand hovered over the knife on your belt as you followed the blood. You walked through the greenery, shuffling through the bushes, and on the other side found yourself at the bottom of a cliff, bushes surrounded the area keeping it closed off and a singular tree stood to the right.

You gasped again upon seeing a wolf under the tree. Its ash-blond fur was matted with spots of blood, it was laying on its side, panting, it’s eyes were shut so it mustn’t have noticed you yet.

It looked weak, clearly badly injured. You could tell the damage was coming from it’s, right, back leg. You could see the blood was still pouring out of the would and creating a pool under its body. Had it stepped into a trap? Hunters often set those so they could gather wolf pelts, though if that was the case he would still be trapped, right? Maybe it had gotten into a fight? Or maybe hunters had found it wandering about and attacked?

You shook your head.

Now was not the time to be pondering on the possibilities. The poor thing was in a lot of pain. If you didn’t stop the bleeding then it could die!

However, wolves are dangerous creatures… especially when they’re dying and in a lot of pain. You cautiously took a step forward but upon making your movement its red eyes shot open. They landed on you and you were met with a very threatening, warning growl. Even if you knew there was no way it was in any condition to get up and attack you, it’s deep growl made your heart jump into your throat. Your hands began to shake but you forced yourself to calm down. You stopped walking forward and held up your hands to show you were of no threat. “It’s ok... I just want to help.”

‘Why am I speaking to a wolf like it can understand me?’ you sighed at your idiocy but to your surprise; the growling stopped.

Those piercing red eyes stayed on you, cutting into your soul with a deadly glare. The poor thing looked so weak and yet it was still trying to be threatening. Obviously it did not trust you. You noticed its eyes moved down to your belt and upon seeing your knife it growled again. You unclipped it from your belt and did the stupidest thing you’ve probably done in your whole life.

You threw it away, out of reach.

The wolf’s hardened gaze was still fixated on you but it noticeably relaxed a little seeing you unarmed now. You slowly approached and with no more growling or warnings from the wolf you kneeled down beside it.

The closer you got the more you could see just how hurt it was. Maybe it was a fight after all?

The wound was deep but it wasn’t in a vital area, which made this a lot easier on you. All you had to do was clean it and bandage it up. It looked like a stab wound, maybe it was hunters after all?

You leaned over and reached into your bag, grabbing the flask of water you carried with you. You realised you didn’t have any spare cloth and sighed. You took off your cloak and gently poured some water from your flask onto a corner part of it. You could still feel the wolf's intense gaze on you, watching to see what you were doing. It made you gulp, knowing that if you made any wrong move it would without a doubt attack you. You were close enough for it to take a good chunk out of your arm now.

You turned to meet it’s red eyes. “This will hurt a bit, I’m going to clean it, please don’t kill me-” You pleaded, not sure if it would lash out at you for causing it more pain by touching its wound- even if you were just trying to help it might not understand that.

You turned to the wound, it seemed to be the only wound it had, it looked really dirty,  if you didn’t do this it would get infected.

You swallowed your fear and lightly pressed the cloth onto the wound.

The wolf growled at the pain after feeling the pressure onto its open wound. You waited until it relaxed a bit and pressed the cloth down again, only applying a gentle pressure as you to get rid of all the dirt, trying not to hurt it more. You were surprised it was being so obedient. It wasn’t making any moves to attack you, it just lay there, glaring at you and letting out the odd sigh or growl of pain. Maybe it realised that you were no threat after all?

Once you were satisfied that the wound was clean and wouldn’t get infected you realised you’d have to use something to bandage it with so it didn’t keep losing blood. You looked down at your cloak, part of it already bloodied, and sighed.

You began to rip up the fabric, for once you felt glad that you were poor and unable to afford fancy, non-flimsy materials, it made ripping it up a lot easier on you.

You ripped up the non dirty corner of your cloak and cautiously wrapped the fabric around it’s leg, making sure it was tight enough to hold the blood in. You sat back on your knees, taking in how the wolf lay there, still unable to stand.

You pressed your lips in a thin line. There was no way it would be able to walk back to it’s pack in this condition.

Your eyes lit up as you remembered the food you had bought from town. You reached back over for the bag and pulled out some raw meat you had intended to cook up for the dinner but- well... This was more important. You unwrapped the meat from the bag, and the wolf's nose twitched at the smell of food. It looked over to you, its eyes no longer glaring but rather staring at the food with a longing look. It must be starving.

You chuckled at its expression and placed the meat down next to its head. “Here you go, you can have it.” you smiled and watched as the wolf greedily ate up your offering of food. As it ate the raw meat you reached back for the flask of water. You had no bowl to put it in for the wolf to drink up so you decided you’d have to help hydrate it yourself. This would help give it the strength it needed to get back home.

After it finished devouring the meat you held up the flask. “It’s water, you lost a lot of blood so you need to drink it all up!” You told it, the wolf huffed but in its weak state it could only comply. You slowly poured the water down and it lapped up whatever it could. Once it emptied you placed everything back into your bag, even your ruiner coak which you would have to throw away now.

You got comfy, you didn’t want to leave it here alone in case something came out and took advantage of it’s weakened state.

You had to admit, you were a bit prideful of yourself. Seeing that the wolf was already looking much better than when you had found it made you feel really good. You were actually able to help save its life and it made your heart swell with joy.

Now that the worry of the wolf bleeding out and dying had gone the situation had become a lot clearer to you. You were actually sitting in front of a wolf, feeding it, taking care of it- they were one of the most aggressive creatures around these forests- Well at least to humans. Not that you could blame them, hunters often tried killing and capturing them, so of course they’d want to attack humans, they probably had no trust in your kind.

Oh boy, if your town could see you now they’d call you crazy for approaching a wolf. In fact, if they saw the wolf here they’d no doubt capture and kill it. You didn’t agree with that mindset, maybe it made you weak but you’d rather be weak than be a monster. You found wolves to be wonderful creatures, from what you knew they were very intelligent and loyal animals. You didn’t want to harm them, in fact, you always liked the idea of having a pet wolf.

You were lost in thought for so long you barely even realised when the wolf began slowly pushing itself up, wobbling in the process since it could only use three of its legs. When you noticed it limping away towards the bushes it had no doubt came from you shot up from the ground. “Wait! You’re still hurt, you should rest-” A growl cut you off, the wolves eyes glaring at you as if you had just threatened it. You tensed up for a second, you thought it might attack you but when it turned around and limped away again you sighed in relief.

“Get home safe!” You smiled, you knew it heard you as its ear twitched at your words but it didn’t stop to look back at you and eventually it disappeared into the trees.

You looked back at the puddle of blood it had left behind and exhaled through your nose.

Being near a wolf for more than 5 seconds and not dying? You were probably the first and only human to achieve that.

-----

Despite the lack of meat in the dish the dinner with your friends had gone pretty well. Luckily you had bought all those herbs and spices, it really helped to keep it from being too bland. Not to mention spending quality time with those three was always a treat!

Luckily You had managed to make it back before the moon showed up, which meant you had avoided any and all lectures from the townspeople.

Last night when you had returned home you noticed that some blood had gotten onto your clothes from when you were tending to the wolf, you were lucky enough that no one had seen you come back from your trip, or else they would have most definitely questioned why you had blood stains all over you.

Currently, you were on your way to the creeks to wash the stains out. You had made sure to keep out of sight again to avoid any suspicion. When you eventually got to the lake you knelt down beside the water, rolling up your sleeves and began cleaning your dirty clothes. Even with the use of soap, the stains were taking a long time to rub out. Then again, you had never gotten blood stains on your clothes. Maybe you’d have to throw these out? Maybe you just needed to let them soak in the water for a while?

You sighed, your arms aching from the gruelling task. You really didn’t want to throw these out! The thought of having to save up and buy new clothes only made you scrub harder. Especially when there was nothing wrong with these ones- well, minus the blood stains.

You were so busy wrestling with the stains and grumbling to yourself that you didn’t notice the figure approaching you.

You heard a huff come from behind you and whipped around in fright, though that soon disappeared when your eyes landed on the wolf from yesterday, it was sitting directly behind you, red eyes staring into your own with annoyance. Its leg was miraculously all healed up, not even a scar was left in its wake. Which seemed impossible to you but you were glad it was doing better.

“Oh, it’s you again. What are you doing here? Isn’t it dangerous to be so close to a town full of humans?” You questioned, and the wolf trudged forward, you noticed it had something in its mouth. The wolf placed the cloth from your cloak onto the ground in front of you, the same cloth you had torn up and used to stop the bleeding on its leg yesterday. It sat back again and watched your reaction.

You breathed out in awe, it was almost like the wolf was trying to show you gratitude. Either it was a very smart wolf or…

You picked up the cloth, it was coated in bloodstains, of course, you had no use for these anymore, they were ruined and you had already thrown that cloak away but the gesture was enough to make these ruined rags hold so much meaning. Your hand clenched around the material and you smiled softly, it was incredible it had come back just for this. You had been sure you’d never see the wolf again. “Thank you.”

You finally spoke and the wolf turned its head away with a huff. Wolves were a very prideful bunch from what little you knew about them, so it was no doubt that this had probably taken a lot for him to do. To swallow his pride and come thank the human who had saved his life.

You turned back to your clothes and the wolf came and sat beside you, watching you as you cleaned. You felt powerful to have a wolf obediently sitting by your side, not that'd you admit it outloud, but you had always wanted a pet. “Are you sure you should stay here… it’s dangerous for your kind.” You spoke, glancing over at the wolf in time to see him growl in protest.

Looks like he was staying for a while.

You smiled and happily sat in silence with the wolf. You took note of the way it’s tail slightly swayed behind it. You giggled at the sign of contentment from it. Had you really created a bond with a wolf of all things? It seemed so far fetched and yet here you were.

Your eyes widened as you recalled your previous thoughts about the wolf. Curiosity got the better of you and without thinking you blurted out. “Are you a werewolf?”

The wolf tensed for a split second, but it's shock was soon replaced with a glare at you. You didn’t feel very threatened, it didn’t seem like it was going to hurt you or that it was really mad at you for your question.

You held up your hands, in the same way, you had done when you first encountered the injured wolf. “I-I Don’t mind if you are!!” You defended yourself, though it didn’t seem to believe you.

Humans were known for holding a deep hatred for werewolves. Though the way you were looking at him told him that you were being honest with him. You had also saved his life yesterday so he really had no reason not to believe you.

He sighed through his nose.

Your eyes widened as the fur on its body began to disappear, its features slowly becoming more human-like, though his ears, tail and teeth stayed the same. Luckily when he transformed he was wearing clothes. You might have died on the spot if he had been naked.

“You’re smarter than you look.” He grumbled, he looked slightly irritated as you stared at him in awe. Meeting a wolf was one thing but a werewolf!? You had only ever heard of them! Honestly? you were sure they were just myths! But now there was one sitting in front of you!

“Wow!” You gaped. Your eyes trailed up to his ears, they twitched atop of his head, his tail still absentmindedly swaying behind him. You suppressed a sequel, it was adorable- even with his piercing red eyes glaring at you.

He caught you gushing over his features and a grumble escaped his lips. As soon as he felt his cheeks heating up he turned his face away from you. "Dumbass human…" he grumbled under his breath, covering his embarrassment with annoyance. Why the hell did his cheeks suddenly feel so hot anyway!?

You sat back, scooching closer to him as your curiosity peaked, this was like a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet a werewolf. You were still taking it all in. You had to stop yourself from reaching up and petting his big fluffy ears!

“So- is your leg doing ok?” You tilted your head, though your eyes were currently following his swishing tail.

“Yeah, I got it healed when I returned back to my pack.” He told you, pausing for a second as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his green jacket. You wanted to ask how it healed so quickly? That should be impossible? Did wolves have some sort of sacred healing techniques or did their race naturally heal fast? Werewolves were said to be much stronger than humans, maybe their bodies were able to heal fast? You had so many questions but before you could ask them he spoke up again.

“Thank you..” He grumbled out, you could tell by his expression alone that this was hard for him to say. He looked annoyed, embarrassed, but mostly irritated. Wolves really were a prideful bunch after all. It must have been hard for him to have a human of all things see him in such a weak state let alone help him and then have to thank them in return.

This was actually the first time in his life he had tried so hard to swallow his pride. The reason being that, even if he didn’t want to admit it, you saved his life. If you hadn't shown up he would have no doubt died in that spot. So even if his ego was taking a hit, he still wanted to thank you. He hadn’t expected a human of all things to save his life. All night he had been thinking about you, you hadn’t changed his perspective on humans but you had changed his perspective on you.

When he first saw you he thought you were going to finish him off, but you proved him wrong.

“Don’t worry about it! I’d be a monster if I left you to die there.” You replied and he almost scoffed at you. You sounded so naive like you had no idea of what humans really did to his kind. “How did you get hurt in the first place?” You added.

“Humans.” Was his quick reply, but upon seeing your curious stare he sighed and added. “Hunters caught up with me, I was trying to gather food and the bastard came out of nowhere and one got a good hit on me with his sword. I managed to get away and hide, then you showed up.” He snarled, his eyes glaring at the lake.

The sudden change in mood scared you. He looked really pissed, but you knew that anger was not directed at you. It must have been pretty traumatic for him, he almost died all alone by a tree. It must have been scary to think he might die like that and never see his loved ones again. You assumed that his fear must have bundled up and turned into anger now that he's had a day to process the events.

“Oh.” You replied, you weren’t  sure what to say. You were a human too, would he really take comfort from the same kind that had tried to kill him yesterday? “I’m sorry.”

“You should be, you also caused a shit ton of problems for me!” He muttered bitterly and your jaw dropped open. Why was he suddenly blaming you!? Was this really coming from the same guy who was just thanking you for saving his life a second ago!? “What!? I helped you!”

“Yeah, then I went back to the pack reeking of human and wearing a cloth that also reeked of human. I had to listen to a mouth full from my shitty old lady.” Despite his words his tone lacked any real bite to it, it seemed like he was just trying to blame you for something so he could get a slither of his pride back. You rolled your eyes and ignored the comment. “Whatever, I’m just glad you’re still alive.”

Your words must have knocked him speechless because he didn’t reply. He watched you as you went back to scrubbing your clothes.

How could a human be so nice? It went against everything he knew about humans, all he knew was that they were greedy, murderers, So how come you weren’t? His eyes turned into slits as he glared at the ground. He didn’t understand you and it pissed him off. The only reason you were alive right now was that you had saved his life. You confused him so much, you made him wonder if you were just doing all of this to gain something? You made no sense in his eyes and it made him want to punch the first tree he could find.

He didn’t like feeling so conflicted.

He heard you groaning as you vigorously rubbed at the material in your hands. He rolled his eyes. "Idiot!! All you're doing is rubbing the stains in more! That's not how you get blood out!"

"Well then how do you get blood out!? I've never had this problem before!" You snapped back and threw the clothes back into the water.

The wolf came up to you, looking over your shoulder to inspect the damage.

You felt your heart stop, he was so close. You could feel his breath against your skin, he was almost pressed right up against your back, he smelled like burnt firewood. It was nice, you smiled as red danced across your cheeks.

"They're ruined."

You snapped from your thoughts, feeling embarrassed indulging in the proximity. "Huh?"

"You're clothes, they're ruined. For good."

"Oh… really?" You pouted, looking down at them with longing eyes. It was one of your favoured outfits and now they were wrecked. "Yeah, you shouldn't have rubbed the blood stains."

You let out a sigh and sat back, giving up on the garments and staring out at the beautiful lake. It connected to the ocean and left a salty smell in the air. It sparkled under the sun, if you were alone right now you might have gone for a swim.

"The hell do you look so sad for?? Just have someone in your town make more." He said.

"Yeah but that costs money, and I don't have much money."

The wolf stared at you with a clueless look. "M..money?" He questioned and you turned your head to him, your lips parting in shock. Did he not know what money was?

"Yeah… you know.. you use it to pay for things? Like clothes and food. You give money in exchange for peoples goods and services."

The wolf stared at you like you had just sprouted another head. He blinked, he didn't understand the concept. You were suddenly curious as to how his society worked. "How do wolves pay for things?"

He scoffed." We don't! As a pack we all have our designated jobs, we help and look out for each other. The only thing we ask in return is loyalty."

You smiled at his reply. "That sounds kinda nice actually." The wolf sat down next to you again and there was a moment of silence as you both listened to the calming sounds of running water. It felt like you two were the only ones in the world, for a moment you felt like you had no worries. It was so peaceful

“How did you find me?” You suddenly asked, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. He scoffed at your stupid question. “Idiot, wolves can track scents. I had your clothes so I knew what you smelled like. It just followed it! I also figured you lived in a nearby town since you had a bag full of food and shit with you yesterday. You also weren’t equipped like a traveler so it wasn’t hard to guess.” he replied, though he sounded irritated he had to explain something so obvious to you. Maybe he didn’t realise that humans weren’t as good at tracking as wolves were?

You nodded, humming in reply, “Wolves have good tracking skills... I don’t really know much about werewolves. I’ve never even seen one since all the hunters chase them away from our towns and stuff. To be honest, I thought you guys were just a myth." You chuckled but stopped when you saw his lip pull back into a snarl. Maybe it wasn’t smart to talk about hunters around him, it seemed to anger him. Though.. A lot seemed to anger him.

At least you weren’t one of them.

"They don't chase us away! We just want nothing to do with your kind!!" He snarled and you raised an eyebrow at him. "Then how come you came back to see me?"

He tensed, his teeth clenching as his cheeks tinted red. "You're different! You saved my fucking life! And I-" you could feel the irritation rolling off of him, though you weren’t sure what was riling him up so much.

"You what?"

You heard him growl, it wasn’t aimed at you, you could tell that much since his eyes were focused on the lake in front of you two.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you." He admitted through gritted teeth. His hands clenching in frustration. "You're the first human I've met who I didn't want to rip apart. The first, stupid, niave, human who actually showed kindess. You helped me, you saved my fucking life and I hate that I wanted to see you again so badly, I hate that I couldn't stop myself from coming here." He exhaled through his nose, trying to calm himself down. "I hate that I'm curious about you enough to want to get to know you."

Your lips parted in shock. He looked so conflicted about not hating you. He wanted to hate you, but you were the reason he was still breathing right now so how could he? You could have finished him off, he was helpless in that moment. Yet you decided to save him? He can’t hate you, no matter what your race is.

"Well… for the record, I wanted to see you again too." You smiled at him and he turned to you, it was now his turn to be shocked. "I mean- it's not everyday you get to have your very own wolf friend." You laughed.

He grumbled, something about you being naive again but you chose to keep ignoring his insults. "Don't get used to it… if we keep hanging around each other someone’s going to get hurt. If your town finds out then those hunters will try to kill me," he smirked. "Or I'll kill them first. But either way, it’ll only end badly. So this is the last time we'll see each other."

Your eyebrows knitted together. "Who cares about them! Those hunters always ruin everything. I won’t let them ruin this too! They have no part of this and if they want to try to get involved then they'll have to go through me first!" You huffed, clenching your hands in front of you. The wolf was surprised to hear you speaking about your own kind with such a bitter voice. You really were a weird human, he had never met anyone like you. You seemed to like him over your own people? Or at least you were willing to choose him over them. You seemed to disagree with what they did. He never would have guessed a human like you could exist. Once he got over his initial shock a smirk settled onto his lips. “You’re not so bad… for a human.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh? Thanks.” You replied, not sure whether that was a compliment or an insult.

There was a small pause before the wolf beside you stood up. You panicked thinking he was going to leave but he walked towards the lake. “It’s too open here..”

“What?” You followed his suit and stood up.

He sighed in irritation before turning to you. “If you want to meet up again then it can’t be here. It’s too open.” A bright smile made its way to your face, your eyes lit up at the thought of being able to see him again and it made him grumble. You were way too happy over something so dumb...

“There’s always that forest spot we met in! It was pretty closed off! I don't think anyone would find us there.”

The wolf grinded his teeth together, It all felt so stupid. Why was he even agreeing to this! He was a wolf! You were a human! It felt so dumb to try and secretly meet up! For what reason were you two deciding to do this?! He only came to thank you so he could peacefully sleep at night without feeling guilty about not showing you gratitude, so he could keep his pride, so he could stop thinking of you every second of the damn day. Sure- it had only been one day since you saved him but he was quick to anger. Yet here he was, making plans to see you again, You, a human, a species he had grown up hating all his life. It was all so confusing to him, he didn’t understand why he was so drawn to you. But it pissed him off more than ever!

"Sure, whatever." So why was he still agreeing to all of this? Surely it was going to end badly, in fact there was no doubt it would.

"I'll bring food for you too! You said you were out hunting yesterday but you got hurt before you could find food right?" He did his best not to look at you, something about that stupid smile of yours made him feel funny. He didn't like it.

"Why the hell would you do that? I'm not weak you know! I can take care of myself!"

"Yeah, but is it so wrong to make sure my new friend is well fed? I can't imagine that hunting for food everyday is easy." You backfired and he shrugged. "It's not hard for me since I'm so good at it!"

"I'm still bringing food." You stood your ground, crossing your arms over your chest for extra emphasis that you weren't going to budge. The wolf groaned and threw his head back

"Whatever! Same time! Tomorrow! Don't be late cause I’m not going to wait for you!!" He yelled at you before turning and stomping off.

You ran after him, "Wait! I never got your name. My name is y/n! What's yours?"

His footsteps paused and he looked at you over his shoulder. "It's Bakugo."

[twinkleton]

a broken promise - married!douxie x reader

Bring on the angstt! This fic was inspired by @alovesongshewrote​‘s imagine called Pick Who Dies, linked here. She’s such a lovely writer and part of the reason why I even starting writing fics to begin with! This fic is my interpretation of the final battle with the Arcane Order. It’s also an alternate end with my Married!Douxie, where him and the reader don’t get their happily ever after. Please enjoy!

tw:blood

tags: @clarencebells @purplesinnerw​

Bellroc sneaks up behind Douxie, the man being too focused on helping Y/N with Skrael to notice. They send a blazing fire towards Douxie, hitting him in the back and knocking him down. They take the advantage and grab him, kicking his leg in a weak spot so he can’t get up. 

“NO! LET GO OF HIM!” Y/N roars, taking her eye off Skrael, wondering what on Earth was taking Archie so long with finding the Trollhunters. Skrael takes notice of Y/N’s lack of attention towards them, and seizes the opportunity. They skulk behind her, taking their staff with two hands and aiming at her lower back.

Douxie notices what they’re doing a second too late.

“Y/N, LOOK OUT!!”

An immense amount of pain pierces through her as Skrael rams their staff through her abdomen. Y/N kneels to the floor, face contorted in horror as she looks down to witness the weapon be wrenched out of her. Her ears are ringing - unable to produce any sound as she collapses to the floor. 

Douxie can’t think. He can’t breathe. It feels as if his lungs were malfunctioning, no supply of air to be found. They’re still working, for if it weren’t for them he wouldn’t have been able to let out such a harrowing scream. His throat feels on fire and his wrists are definitely bruised from struggling, but it’s nothing compared to the agony in his heart. He’s desperate for any sign of life from his beloved, but she remains on the ground terrifyingly still.

“Y/N! Y/N! YOU’RE GONNA BE FINE! JUST ANSWER ME!”

Skrael’s relishing in the chaos, shamelessly cackling at the scene before him. Bellroc joins in too, their voices shifting in and out. Douxie is still fighting against them, trying to reach for his staff. 

“LET GO OF ME! Y/N! PLEASE!” 

Bellroc strikes him down with their left fist, cursing at him while they slam their foot onto his back. 

“Look at you, you’re as pathetic as an earthworm. Why don’t you shut up and we can watch her die together,” Bellroc sneers as they yank Douxie’s head up by the hair. A pool of blood is starting to surround the girl’s body. 

Y/N can hear faint calls of her name, but her mind refuses to respond. Her body is freezing, a clear warning sign of death looming over her. She almost wants to give in to it. To be free of all this pain. Yet, her eyes reluctantly open, and she sees Jim, Claire, Toby, and Archie hiding behind a wall. They’re waiting for an opening. It’s time to give it to them. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Douxie finally notices a small sign of hope. Y/N’s left hand raises off the ground. The two demigods cease their laughing. Their curiosity lets the witch try to get up, as she slowly picks up her head from the floor, the ends of her hair caked in blood. 

The hall is deathly silent, which is a good thing as Douxie would not had otherwise been able to hear his wife croak out, “I’m okay, Douxie. We said for forever remember?”

It’s debatable whether Douxie was laughing or crying. However, the real answer was that it was a bit of both.

“Yeah, we did love.”

Her hands begin to glow. She smiles warmly at him. Nine hundred years wasn’t enough. 

“Time to end this, darling.”

With every last bit of her strength, she twists behind herself, and blasts Skrael in the face with a blinding fire. They’re sent flying across the room. Gritting her teeth - she rolls back onto her stomach, pushing herself off the floor onto her knees. Bellroc attempts to kill Douxie, but is interrupted by a ray of Y/N’s magic, thrown to the opposite side of the room as well. Her final move is throwing up shields around the kids as they charge in. When she thinks she’s done enough, she topples to the floor once more. I’m so sorry, Douxie.

Douxie is torn, wanting so badly to sprint over to Y/N, pull her into his arms, and escape out of there. But, in order for all of this to be truly over, he has to help his friends. So, regretfully, he picks up his staff, turns towards them and joins the battle. 

Y/N’s blows to the demigods had weakened them to the point that they had become rag dolls to the heroes. Toby swung his Warhammer, colliding it into Skrael’s stomach, knocking the wind out of them. They stumbled back, only to be knocked down by a swift kick from Jim. He jumped on top of him, pummeling him with his fists before raising Excalibur high above them. 

Being too weak to move, Skrael uncharacteristically begins to panic. “No, no, we’re Gods, We’re supposed to bring this world back to order!”

“The world has no order, that’s what makes it so incredible. What it does need is peace. And it will achieve it, without you.”

Jim strikes his blade down, finally bringing the immortal to their end.

Bellroc witnesses their siblings end and is enraged. They no longer care for their mission and just want to see everyone burn. They lift their staff up high, creating an inferno storm above them. Luckily, before they can make use of it, Claire opens a portal right beneath them, and they fall into it. The storm evaporates. She opens the next portal high above them, the sorcerer plunging towards the ground. 

Once they hit the ground, Douxie draws up a sigil below them, a gravity spell that keeps Bellroc glued to the floor. They let out a maddened roar. 

“This is for Merlin,” Douxie vows, eyes glowing that familiar blue again. He rises up into the air, charging an attack. Then, he slams his staff down, a gust of magic slicing through the air and into Bellroc, sending them to their doom. Douxie descends back down, and they listen to the final member of Arcane Order’s pathetic wheezing.

They hear Bellroc’s final breath, and the group doesn’t know how to respond. However, Douxie wastes no time in rushing over to Y/N’s body. She had not moved a muscle since the last time he saw her and it horrified him. The puddle of blood had only grown wider, and her skin was paler than ever before. 

The rest of the group follows him, circling around Y/N while Douxie kneels down to pick her up. He brings her into his lap, pressing his head against her chest. He hears a single faint beat, and cries in relief. 

“Y/N, wake up. We did it,” his voice sounds cracked and hoarse, body shaking with overwhelming nerves. He caresses her face, wishing she would just open her eyes!

“Douxie...” Claire whispers, holding Jim’s hand firmly and willing herself not to cry yet, holding out hope for Y/N. The same can’t be said for Toby however, who’s letting his tears fall freely. 

Douxie’s breathing becomes erratic as he gently starts shaking her, “She said she was okay, she’s okay, she’s- oh God please, wake up!” He lays his forehead to hers, pleading for her. Then, he hears her voice, faint as a mouse, “I can’t, I can’t.” He snaps his head back up. Y/N’s eyes are half-lidded and unfocused. Eventually, she gazes towards Douxie, and he clutches her face, full of worry. She gives a weak half grin, not strong enough for anything more. Tears shed down the sides of her face. She doesn’t want to break his heart, but her time has been cut off. 

“I can’t, love. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I love you. So much.” Despite her best efforts, her eyes slowly shut, head relaxing in his hands as her soul leaves her body.

Somewhere out there, Nari feels an empty spot in the world once more. 

Archie cautiously walks towards her, jumping onto her chest to listen for a heartbeat. Nothing. He looks up at Douxie, reluctantly shaking his head, eyes glistening. “She’s...she’s gone.” He can’t bear to look at his old friend - lost in his own grief as well. 

“No, no she can’t be gone! She can’t!” Douxie squeezes her body, hot rivulets of tears spilling down his face, rocking back and forth. However, just like his Master, she turns to dust, leaving behind the ring her made her so long ago. 

Claire latches onto Jim, wrapping her arms around him, letting herself cry now having confirmation their friend is dead. The Trollhunter hugs her tightly, frustration and sorrow clouding his mind. Toby throws off his helmet in anger. None of this felt like a victory. 

Douxie sobs at the sight of the ring, grasping it in his hand and bringing it to his heart. She left him. He’s never going to wake up to her smile again, or hear her comforting words of wisdom again, or feel her soft hand against his cheek ever again. He’s spent the majority of his everlasting life with her. Continuing without her was never something he thought he’d ever have to do. 

“Doux...I’m so sorry,” Jim calls out to him. He empathizes with the wizard, knowing he’d feel the exact same if Claire was in Y/N’s place. 

Douxie doesn’t have the motivation to look up at them, still hopelessly bent over where she used to be. “I’ve lost her. She’s supposed to be here with me. I can’t-I can’t live without her!”

Archie makes the first move, rushing to Douxie so he can nuzzle his head against his. Douxie fervently embraces him, hugging him so tightly while he weeps. Claire joins them, followed by Jim, then Toby. They mourn the loss of their friend together. The weights on their chest slightly lift, healing each other. 

Y/N watches the scene, thankful that her husband has their friends to take care of him. Morgana lays a hand on her shoulder, telling her it’s time to go. It’s full circle as Morgana leads her to her new home, where this time, she’ll be waiting for him. 

[minmotl]

Ch. 68: Tang Fan Spills Medicine Over Injured Sui Zhou & Makes Him Take Off His Pants

Context: Tang Fan, Sui Zhou and their surviving subordinates have escaped the tomb and won against the remnants of the White Lotus Sect members camping outside their escape route. They should be celebrating, but trouble has only begun for Tang Fan. Although Yin Yuan Hua’s death was hardly his fault, their rivalry is still well-known back in the imperial city. Yin Yuan Hua’s direct supervisor makes use of this opportunity to lodge a complaint about Tang Fan having failed as a leader, and Tang Fan’s powerful allies in the ministry are all sent away. This case must have a scapegoat, and the Emperor, hearing all the complaints about Tang Fan from another official as well, decides to suspend him from his rank and title.

Before they deal with that, however, Tang Fan tries to take care of an injured Sui Zhou on their way back, and is unsurprisingly, absolutely useless at taking care of someone else.

*Note: Tang Fan is referring to a previous incident later when Sui Zhou teased him about his... after making him take off his pants (for a good reason).

Introduction Post | Masterpost

—

Highlights under the cut

In Tang Fan’s eyes, his person career advancement will never be as important as the health of his friends and companions. He orders Cheng Wen and the rest to properly record all the treasures and also rejects Magistrate He’s attempts to make him stay, bringing everyone on the journey back to the imperial city.

They are not as much in a rush this time on the way back because they have to take care of those who are injured. The journey cannot be too fast and they must often take rests at outposts along the way meant for officials.

Magistrate He helped them to prepare several carriages and inside, several thick layers of soft covers have been placed to ferry the injured. A physician is also accompanying them on this journey and he can help to prescribe and brew medicine, and also to treat wounds.

As Sui Zhou’s internal organs have been wounded, he needs to to rest often and adding to that, he has to drink medicine that has herbs that would help with his sleep, so on this entire journey, he has spent most of the days in sleep.

Those who are injured need someone to take care of them, and the only woman in this convoy is Lady Chen. However, as she’s a wanted criminal, she can enjoy sitting in a single carriage, but her hands and legs have been trapped with heavy cuffs. There are supervising men stationed before and behind this carriage. Tang Fan cannot let her come and take care of Sui Zhou, and so Tang-daren volunteers bravely to take on the responsibility of attending to this patient.

Pang Qi is immensely touched at how noble Tang-daren is.

And at this moment, Sui Zhou is still unconscious in rest, otherwise he would be the first one to jump up and oppose this… but the ship has sailed and there is no time for him to even protest.

After Sui Zhou wakes up, he realises that the person who is delivering his medicine to him has change from the accompanying physician to Tang Fan.

“…”

“What is it?” Tang Fan asks.

“Where’s the physician?”

“He’s helping others to change their dressings, I’ll feed you today,” Tang Fan answers.

Sui Zhou’s smile is forced as he says, “No need, I can do this myself.”

Tang Fan thinks that he’s only being courteous, and then presses him down, “The physician said, forcing all of you to journey back at this point is already harmful to your injuries. If you can lie down just lie down, then you can recover quickly! How close are we, you don’t have to stand on ceremony with me!”

Sui Zhou is speechless, thinking that he would truly like to stand on ceremony with him.

Tang-daren scoops out a spoonful of the medicine and is about to bring it to Sui Zhou’s mouth. He then remembers the way Sui Zhou took care of him when he was ill, and learns from him by placing the spoon to his lips to test the temperature, before sending it over.

And yet, just as it is about to arrive at its destination, Tang Fan’s hand shakes.

Sui Zhou, “…”

Tang Fan, “…”

Sui Zhou, “It’s best if I drink it myself.”

Tang Fan laughs, “I’m just not used to this, sorry, sorry! Or we can change a position?”

He uses his sleeves to wipe at Sui Zhou’s shirt and places the bowl aside first. He then helps Sui Zhou up so that he is half leaning on him, then picks up the bowl, carefully bringing it up to Sui Zhou’s mouth. He slants the spoon slightly, thinking that this time, his hand will not shake, at least.

Unexpectedly, a woman’s scream resounds from the outside, and then it is followed by the sounds of chaos from a startled bunch of men and horses.

After a moment, they then hear Qian San Er’s voice, “Sui-daren, sorry about this and that we disturbed your rest. Lady Chen was screaming for no reason and insisted that someone was peeping at her as she was changing clothes. We didn’t startle you did we, Sui-daren?”

Tang Fan, “…”

Sui Zhou, “…”

This time, the whole bowl of medicine has been spilled on Sui Zhou’s face. Thankfully the medicine’s temperature was just nice, otherwise they will have to add another item to the list of Sui Zhou’s injuries.

Sui Zhou is left with no choice but to remove the bowl from his face, and says, “I’ll do it myself.”

Tang Fan is speechless, “Guang Chuan, I really did not meant to…”

Although Sui Zhou is the victim of this, he wants to laugh, “I know, but you are not the type to assist others like this. Get someone to brew another bowl, you just have to stay and chat with me.”

He has to comply unconditionally with the patient’s requests. Tang Fan is reinvigorated, “Sure, what do you want to talk about?”

Sui Zhou, “… You should help me get another set of clothes to change first.”

“Oh, oh, oh,” Tang Fan says.

Seeing Tang Fan get up to help him find clothes, Sui Zhou cannot help but feel helpless but also slightly sweet inside. Helpless, because Tang Fan cannot even take care of himself and wants to take care of others - anyone who is taken care of by him will end up in a pitiful condition. And slightly sweet because… Sui Zhou does not need to describe it, as long as he himself knows what it is about.

After a moment, Tang-daren comes back with a pile of clothes.

Sui Zhou has internal injuries and his hands and legs are fine. The physician asked him to recover in peace and quiet, but never said that he cannot move entirely, so changing his own clothes is not a problem. However, Tang Fan insists that he feels guilty and wants to make amends for what he did earlier. Sui Zhou is unable to refuse this face filled with sincerity, and can only silently agree to Tang Fan’s offer.

Sui Zhou’s bronze-coloured abs and muscles are revealed as his inner layer is removed. From the lines of his arms and chest, one can see that he definitely has trained hard on a daily basis. At the same time, as he frequently needs to walk on the edge of danger and has been through many battles, the old marks left by wounds on his body are not little. Some are old and the colours have become very light, but some of them he got a few days ago in the tomb, and are only starting to scab over.

And yet it is this body littered with scars and marks that are a testament to how manly and masculine he is. Without the cover of clothes, he is definitely more imposing than usual. Even if he is wounded now and sitting on the bed, the first thing every person will think of is that this is a sleeping lion, and not a sick cat.

Originally, it would have been fine to just change his outerwear and the inner layer, but Tang Fan insists on changing the full set, making him change his pants as well together. Sui Zhou has no choice but to go along with it. And in the end, when he takes off his pants, he sees Tang-daren eyeing him there, and mischievously he says, “So the shape looks like that.”

Sui Zhou, “…”

How well Tang Fan holds onto grudges… so many days have passed, and at that time, Sui Zhou was merely teasing him, must he remember it like this?

Tang Fan helps him to change and says, “Coming to Gong County, I thought of some materials for the new novel. I’ll write about a man who was born in the wilderness and one day, a demon sets its eyes on a unique treasure that has been passed down for generations in the man’s family. However, he’s troubled by the fact that the treasure recognises its owner and the demon cannot come close to it. And so the demon drinks on the fresh blood of women and turns himself into a beautiful woman, seduces the man and finally makes the man fall irrevocably in love with her, so much so that he willingly gifts the treasure to the demon. The demon’s true form is immediately revealed, the man sees that the person who has slept with him all this time is a horrifying demon filled with scales and has blood-filled eyes, and is scared to death. What do you think?”

Sui Zhou is silent for a bit, “It is rather good.”

But he also has a bad feeling…

As expected, the next moment, he hears Tang Fan say, “How about I call the man Sui Zhou then?”

“Change it,” Sui Zhou replies.

Tang-daren goes with the flow, “Alright, then I’ll call the demon Sui Zhou.”

Sui Zhou, “…”

As people say, one would rather offend a gentleman than offend Tang-daren.

Don’t just judge by Sui Zhou’s unapproachable face, and how he seems cold and ruthless to his subordinates and others. Everyone tends to think that he is so cold that he doesn’t have friends and even when he spends time with his good friend Tang Fan, it is Tang-daren who is always giving in to him.

They do not know that their assumption is wrong, because with Tang-daren, Sui Zhou has this “as long as he is happy anything goes” attitude. Once compromise becomes a habit, he unconsciously keeps giving in, and giving in, and giving in again…

Giving in to the end, and Sui Zhou is defeated and convinced.

And so Tang-daren’s new novel and the name of the demon in it is set, just like that.

As for those from the Northern Administrative Court who will see the book in stores in the future, they will make a noise of confusion, “Zhenfushi-daren’s surname is not common, how did it turn up here? Is the author a man who was arrested and tortured by Sui Zhou before?”

But that is all talk for later. Tang-daren finally can make use of this opportunity when Sui Zhou is weak and via the chance to change his clothes, he unceremoniously bullied the other. He is feeling exceptionally good right now, and hums a small tune under his breath.

Sui Zhou doesn’t know if he is deliberately being like this in front of him, or if he really does not care, and cannot help but ask directly, concerned, “Did you think about what will happen after you return to the imperial city?”

[kabootarandishaan]

Riverbed

Summary: The reader has taken in a stray dog and always takes it to the riverbed for walks, one day they see a random purple haired boy and things ensue

One-shot/Series: Part 3

Pairing: Jonathan Joestar/Female reader

A/N: Part 4 is about done and Part 5 is on its way still not sure how long I want this to be but not too long I think. Anyways hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: None

The shop was immensely busy the next day. You saw many new faces and wondered if it was a special occasion. You and your father were buried in work. It seemed the line of people would not end, just as one left another walked in. The crowd seemed to lighten around supper but it was still larger than usual. You worried you would not be able to leave at your father's instructed time. You were relieved when it slowed significantly an hour after. You looked at your father and he gave you a slight nod permitting you to leave. You quickly called to Nila and went to grab a journal and pocket watch before making your way to the river. You rushed remembering you still had to look for your dagger. Nila sniffed ahead, aiding you in your search. You eventually made your way to the same spot where you met the Joestar. Nila stopped sniffing around a particular spot before kneeling down and covering her eyes with her ears. 

You looked at her with a bewildered expression. "Well it couldn't have just disappeared! It must be around here somewhere. You aren't looking hard enough Nila!" She only whimpered in response. You let out a sigh before taking a seat beside your mutt. You stroked her head before taking out your journal. "Maybe it fell into the river?" You looked at Nila and could have swore she rolled her eyes before she made her way to the shallows. You sat for some time just writing away in your journal recording the happenings of the day. You wrote often, during your self studying you quickly took to poetry. You enjoyed reading pieces with varied rhythm and rhyme schemes. You would write them yourself sometimes, inspired by the likes of Charles Dickens. You eventually went back to read old entries. You turned to see what you had described of your interactions the night before.

Jonathan Joestar was far from what my expectations had led me to believe. I will not lie, but I had expected for him to be an arrogant and entitled bastard. I was pleasantly surprised that was not the case. I am not sure if I should say this but he exceeded my expectations in another way as well. The man was handsome, his features unique. The deep purple of his hair was one of the first things to intrigue. The way the moonlight shown on his face highlighted the cerulean tone of his eyes. He was quite large too. The fitting of his vest accented his biceps, which only looked more appealing from the way his high waisted trousers cinched him in. His voice… "Lady Y/N?" You jumped and quickly closed your journal. You turned to see the very man you had written about standing behind you. He quickly apologized trying to hide his amusement. "I'm sorry to startle you. Did I interrupt something important?"

“Oh!” You quickly tucked the journal away under your skirt and stood up to properly to meet his gaze. “I was just...sketching.” You bit your lip, you were no stranger to a little white lie but this was bad. “Ah! Well, would you mind if I took a peek at one?” This was exactly why you knew the lie was bad. You usually had time to think these things out but the thought of Jonathan Joestar seeing your thoughts of him was mortifying. Thankfully, Nila came to your rescue as she began to pull at the pant leg of young Joestar. “Nila! Will you stop that!” She simply sniffed and continued to lightly tug at the area around the waistband of his pants. “I must say, your dog is quite the detective. I believe she recognized that I have something that belongs to you.” He reached behind him and pulled out something wrapped within a handkerchief. You looked at him with a confused expression which soon turned to one of recognition, then one of excitement.

“My dagger! Thank goodness it was with you! You have saved me from being scolded two nights in a row.” You laughed and reached your hand out for your dagger only for Jonathan to pull back his hand. You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "That's odd it looked as if you tried to keep me from getting my dagger." You reached out once again only for him to raise his higher. You gave out an exasperated huff and crossed your arms in front if you. Jonathan burst out with a heavy laughter causing you to feel a slight heat on your cheeks. You were thankful for the dimness of the night as it kept him from seeing you. His laugh had an infectious quality of some sort, something you could not quite place, you could not stop the grin that eventually made its way to your own face. Jonathan gathered himself from his shenanigans, placing a hand over his stomach to steady himself. He looked to you and paused when he saw your stance. 

You stood in front of him with a small smile etched across your face, arms crossed. He would have made you out to be annoyed at his childish behaviors but your expression said otherwise. This was the first time he had seen you smile, truly smile, it suited you. You raised your eyebrows at him and he quickly looked away, embarrassed at allowing himself to become so caught up in your features. As he felt the tips of his ears heat up, he cleared his throat trying to muster up something to say. "I...I apologize that was quite immature of me. You left in such haste the other night you dropped your dagger. I had tried calling after you but you had gotten quite far. Here you are." He held out the dagger for you to take. It seemed a sudden self-consciousness overcame him from the way he rambled, it only caused you to become more amused. You broke out into your own small laughing fit. "It was all in good fun. No harm was done so there is no need to apologize Mr. Joestar." You reached out for your dagger.

As you grabbed the dagger, your hand lightly brushed the skin of Jonathan's hand. You looked up at him, only to see his gaze also fixated on you. You could feel the pace of your heart quicken as you slowly gripped the dagger, your fingers were gently grazing Jonathan's palm. You held onto it for a moment simply staring into his eyes before you heard him clear his throat once more. You were both brought out of your trance and could only give one another an uncomfortable smile in response to what occurred. " I would prefer if you simply called me Jonathan, Lady Y/N. Mr. Joestar is my father." You both let out a chuckle at his last remark. "On the condition you refrain from calling me Lady Y/N. Y/N works just fine for me." You both smiled relieved at the release of some tension between the two of you. You quickly took out your pocket watch much to your dismay it was thirty minutes to midnight and you would have to make your way home.

Jonathan had only recently come as well and your time was once again cut short. Jonathan saw your expression change into one of irritation after eyeing the watch. "Is there a problem Lad- I mean Y/N." You looked up to him, his attempt lightening your mood. "My father requires me to be home before midnight. It is already some time past eleven I need to start making my way home if I am to reach there on time." You looked up at him and watched as his brows furrowed into a look of disappointment, his childlike behavior drew your lips into a sad smile. "Allow me to walk you home." He looked at you, his expression shifting from sadness to determination. Your eyes widened in shock as you were caught off guard by his request. "Mr- Jonathan, I am not sure if that is a good idea." You knew it would be appropriate to decline his offer, considering his status and the potential reaction of your father, but you felt the slight desire to accept his request. You wanted to spend a little more time with Jonathan Joestar, you wanted to know more of him. 

"Please Y/N. I would have done the same had you not left so abruptly the other night. If not all the way I will turn around whenever you request." He was only being a gentleman you knew he didn't mean to be condescending like most other men were. In fact, his own request seemed to be laced with the same inquisitiveness that you heard from him when he asked you your name the other night. He was letting you decide, he said you could ask him to leave at any moment. Although you had not met many men, you knew that Jonathan was different. The way he talked to you without remarking on your body or face, the way he listened when you spoke, the way he did not judge knowing you carried a dagger. It was something new for you and you were not afraid to admit that you liked it. "Alright. I suppose you may. Nila!" You called after your dog before you and Jonathan slowly made your way towards your home.

[car-on-the-stairs]

Lucie Herondales Pet Duck.

I had this headcanon that Lucie tries to adopt a duck and then I ended up writing this, sooooooooo... I may or may not have already written multiple chapters? I tried y’all, but its been a long time since Ive written fanficition. I might post more if people seem to like this. 

“Why, he’s adorable James! You are just cruel and heartless.”

Lucie gave a dramatic flair of her arm as her brother glared at her. 

“Yes, I'm the problem, not the bloodthirsty beast that has lulled you into a false sense of security in order to gain our trust and then, when your back is turned it will sneak into our rooms in the middle of the night and-” 

Lucie was barely listening, she had already begun to break off pieces of the bread loaf she was carelessly grasping and scattering them on the ground. The handsome bird was rather greedily gulping down the bread crumbs and she was having trouble keeping up with its appetite. 

“You aren't listening, are you. That thing is like a siren, I'm afraid it is already too late for you, dear sister” James was edging slightly further away from the duck with each word “why, I'll have to inform Cordelia her future parabatai has fallen under the spell of a horrid creature, a terrible beast, an evil-” 

“It's a duck, Jamie.” 

“Don't speak its name! You may summon more,” 

Lucie knew her brother was mostly joking. He didn't really think that ducks were evil but he was genuinely afraid of them. That much was evident by the way that he was placing her between the duck and him, as though he may need to be shielded from such a fluffy, lush looking thing. She was beginning to think that the duck may even let her pet it if only she fed it more. It looked so very tame. 

“I think I'll name you Herbert,” She murmured softly at the newly named duck. 

It was such a lovely day for this. Such a lovely day for Lucie. The light breeze blowing its way through Hyde Park was revitalizing. The sound of trees rustling softly, water lapping gently on a faraway shore. It was a gorgeous day. Truly lovely. James was even here taking this walk with her. They had even found Herbert, just sitting there happily. A lovely, lovely day. 

Lucie wasn't fooling herself. Recently, she hadn’t been feeling great and she really wanted to be very happy today. She wanted to be completely overjoyed that her brother was joking with her like this. That she had found a duck to feed that was so tame. 

Here was the unfortunate thing, Lucie was having a hard time fully appreciating this day. She was meeting with Grace later to discuss Jesse, as they did nearly every day. They hadn’t been having too much luck with the necromancy lately and Lucie couldn't help but feel down because of it. There were simply too many intrusive thoughts that try as she might she could not banish. 

What if Grace and I never bring him back? What if... He is a ghost forever? 

Those were bad thoughts. She didn't like to admit how terribly she missed Jesse sometimes. how many times she'd thought of something to tell him and then felt strangely awful and tired afterwards because she had remembered that it would be hours, sometimes days, before she could next speak to him. It really did not help that he was currently avoiding her. He was a ghost and he was somehow avoiding her. She didn't even know why. 

The truth was that Lucie was trying so hard not to let this affect her. Today was beautiful and she would enjoy it, Jesse Blackthorn be damned. 

“Alright James, that's it. I'm keeping him,” Lucie put her hands on her hips and stared up at her brother. 

“No no no Lucie you know how da feels about ducks! And mam will have a fit when she sees that thing in her house!” James sounded a little bit too rushed, too panicked. As though he was grasping for reasons why Lucie couldn't keep little Herbert.

“I have made up my mind. Herbert is now my duck you cannot convince me otherwise” Lucie knew that she was being stubborn. That was exactly her intention, as James knew to pick his battles wisely when it came to Lucie. Once she set her mind on something near nothing would stop her. She knew this was not a battle he currently had the energy to fight. 

“Here Herbert, Herbert. Herbert bach, come here,” she called waving the remains of her bread in front of him. He just sat there, looking innocently at her. 

She then proceeded to throw the bread at poor James, who was looking on in horror. 

Her advances didn't seem to be alarming Herbert so she tried to pick him up and to her immense surprise, it worked and he did nothing. 

James seemed so tired when she looked back at him like all the fight had gone out of him and the jokes had dried up. There had been so much drama lately in his life, with Grace and Cordelia. But then, there had been so much drama in all of her friend’s lives recently. So many demons and so many deaths. The joking may have been a short reprieve; but Lucie thought she mustn’t forget to make sure her brother was doing alright. 

She was rather sick and tired of it. She really just wanted her friends to be happy. 

It sounded rather contradictory, really, how fed up she was with the danger and how adamantly she searched for it now, if only it meant she could help Jesse. But Jesse was one of her friends. She'd come to trust him and care about him and his well being. He deserved happiness as well. He deserved a life. Or, at the very least, to be put to rest. 

She imagined it was not much fun being a ghost and knowing that, although now there were people alive who you know, who you can look after, that one day they will die and you will remain. To know one day you will be alone and you will fade into the background. To dim and dim but never truly disappear. It occurred to Lucie that that was what her mother would have to suffer through, eventually. She was a warlock and therefore immortal. She would remain young forever while her husband and her children aged and died. She would outlive them all. 

“James,” she murmured 

“What do you think will happen to Jessamine when we die?” Her voice sounded small and worried, like a child seeking reassurance. 

He frowned for a moment, considering. 

“Hang around our children?” 

“What of when they die? When our grandchildren and great-grandchildren die? What of when the Herondale line has been going on for so long they've forgotten her entirely?” 

After that James was quiet for a great deal of time. 

“What, exactly, is the point of this question?” 

“Just a thought.” 

After that, they walked home in silence. James never did answer her question.

[billyhardgrove]

48 with Billy Hargrove? Thanks!!

48 - “I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…”

A/N: I’m sorry but the idea that kept coming to mind for this one was angsty and I gotta say I really enjoyed writing it xx

Warnings: Slight smut, Billy being a dick, swearing

Word Count: 2.1k (approx.)

You glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time, your frown getting deeper and deeper as the minute hand continued to move further and further past the time the pair of you had agreed.

“Where the hell are you, Billy?” You mumbled to yourself, the patience you had having long expired. It wasn’t really like him to be so late for a date, well at least you considered and hoped it was a date. When he had said to you in school that he’d be at your house at 6PM tonight so the two of you could go out together, you thought he was being all sweet and mysterious, not explicitly stating what he really had planned for your birthday. In fact, he hadn’t really mentioned anything about your special day, not even wishing you a happy birthday, but it was just to add to the element of surprise for tonight, you thought. Play the old ‘I forgot it was your birthday’ card just to find out he had something incredible planned for later that night.

Billy wasn’t particularly romantic; it just didn’t come naturally to him. He was more of a possessive jealous boyfriend that made sure to show to everyone just exactly who you belonged to and to not even think of going anywhere near you. Even when it was the two of you, he made sure to show you who’s girl you were, with the various love bites and thirsty pillow talk, you enjoyed it immensely, but you wouldn’t describe it as romantic. Yes, you sometimes fell into serious deep conversations, and on some occasions in the perfect setting there would be some cuddles and hand holding behind closed doors, but that was about the peak of it. No flowers, no candle lit dinners, no moonlit walks. That just wasn’t Billy, and you were ok with that… for the most part. Perhaps just sometimes you hoped he would do something a little sweeter to show how much he cared for you, and what perfect way to do that but for your birthday. So that’s the expectation you held in your mind.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you smoothed out your skirt and fluffed your hair a bit more to give it extra volume. Since Billy hadn’t told you where the two of you were going that night, it made picking an appropriate outfit that little bit harder but you managed to find something that was both sexy and somewhat practical, suitable for whatever the two of you would be getting up to. But you knew by the end of the night it most likely wouldn’t matter since whatever you wore would end up on the floor.

Glancing back at the clock once more, you couldn’t believe it was now after 7PM. Out of the 6 months the pair of you had been dating, he had never been this late except once in which it turned out he had got into conflict with his dad.

God, you hoped he was alright, you hoped his dad hadn’t gone off on him. At the thought, your annoyance turned to worry.

As you bit your lip out of concern, your eyes fell on your mum’s car keys. Should you drive to Billy’s just in case? Just to make sure everything was ok? The idea stuck with you as you debated upon checking up on him. But no alternative reason for his lateness sprung to mind as the image of Billy covered in blood and bruises overrode your mind. And with that, your hands were subconsciously grabbing the keys as you rushed out to your mum’s car.

The journey to Billy’s felt longer than it was, but finally you found yourself turning onto his street and to no one’s surprise you spotted the blue Camaro parked outside his house right away. He was still at home.

At least he didn’t get into a car accident, you thought, for that was another possibility that had sprung to your mind on the drive over.

Putting your car in park, you got out and began making your way up his driveway. However, it was then you noticed that Billy’s Camaro was the only car parked outside the house.

‘So Neil and Susan were out?’ You wondered. Perhaps after the conflict, Neil had bolted, not wanting to even be in the same house as his son. Yes, that was probably what it was.

But then that meant what you assumed was true; Billy was most likely inside, covered black and blue.

Knocking on the front door, you waited for a moment but there didn’t appear to be much noise coming from inside.

You knocked again, this time calling softly. “Billy, are you in there? It’s me. You were late for our date and I was worried… Are you ok?”

Still, there was no answer, so you tried the door handle, pushing it and it opened easily. You knew Billy probably wouldn’t care that you entered the home without permission, so long as you were next to him; so long as you were there to comfort him and make everything was ok again.

“Billy?” You called out once more, but the hallway was dead. Where could he be? His car was outside, so he had to be in here somewhere, you thought.

Wandering into the kitchen, nothing. Walking into the living area, nothing. It was only when you went to try his bedroom that there was finally something. Relief settled over your chest at the thought that he was at least here reassured you, but little did you know that you would’ve hoped to have not heard the movement behind his bedroom door if you had known what it really was.

And soon that relief you felt was replaced with confusion the closer you stepped towards that closed door. It wasn’t until you were outside the door that you finally came to terms with what you were hearing.

“God, yes Billy, right there!” The moans filled your ears, trailing behind the colour red as it isolated your vision.

Pushing open the door, you saw what you feared the most; Billy was behind a girl that wasn’t you, his hips ramming against her ass roughly causing the bed to creak and the headboard to hit against the wall. Her face was pressed against the mattress as she moaned out in pleasure and it felt like poison.

Neither of the two noticed you until the door had hit the wall upon you opening it. It was then that Billy’s head snapped to the doorway, an expression of annoyance and anger, at first, to whoever was interrupting him until he realised who was interrupting him.

“Shit,” he cursed, instantly pulling out of the girl as she looked over in confusion before too noticing that you stood there, and hurriedly she pulled the bed covers up over her naked body.

“Y/N, baby, it’s not what it looks like-“ he began and you just laughed sadistically at him. Did he really think that you were that stupid? ‘It’s not what it looks like’ – he made you sick. You had caught him red handed and he had the audacity to make it out as though he wasn’t fucking some other girl right in front of you.

“You’re a fucking pig.” You spat, impressing yourself at how you weren’t crying. You were so overwhelmed with rage that upset and sadness were the last emotions you were feeling right now. How could he do this to you? How dare he do this to you!

Turning to walk out of the room, Billy managed to grab a hold of your forearm pulling you back. “Y/N, please. I’m sorry, baby. It doesn’t mean anything-“

“You know when you were over an hour late for our date, I thought your dad had laid in on you again!” You yanked your arm out of his grasp, your face going red in rage. “That’s why I came here, to make sure you were ok.” You watched as Billy’s face fell to one of guilt, his shoulders slumping in defeat at how you had turned up expecting the worst on his behalf when really you should have been expecting the worst on yours. “But instead what do I find, Billy?”

“It didn’t mean anything, though.” He tried again, his eyes pleading with you to understand. Understand what? That he was willing to ruin your relationship over a measly fuck that didn’t mean shit to him?

“Oh, well thank God for that!” You shouted, throwing your hands up in the air in faux relief. “Thank fucking God it didn’t mean anything, Billy! You know what? In that case, I forgive you! Because, you know, fucking some girl that doesn’t mean anything to you is so much better than fucking a girl that does. Thank God you ruined our relationship over someone that doesn’t matter!” You were hysterical at this point, in utter disbelief at how he was trying to justify it all. Part of you almost hoped that the girl did mean something to him and that way he hadn’t destroyed this relationship for nothing. You felt it was more disrespectful and humiliating for you that the girl was nobody than if she was in fact some other girl that Billy had fallen for. “You’ve just thrown our relationship away for what? Nothing.” You spat at him, and Billy was quiet, not knowing what to say that could make the situation better.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself down; everything was so intense, and senses were high, you needed a moment to try and comprehend and come to terms with what exactly was happening. Billy still just stood there; his head hung low like a puppy that knew he was in trouble.

“You know, I really didn’t think you could get any less romantic than you already are.” You sighed, swallowing the bile forming in your throat. “But, God, for my birthday, finding you fucking someone else is exactly what I wanted. How did you know?” You sneered, sarcastically.

You just couldn’t believe what had happened, you were in shock and surprise and disbelief for coming over to Billy’s house tonight, this was the last thing you expected to walk in on. But then you beat yourself for feeling that way because this was Billy Hargrove you were talking about. Everyone knew he didn’t know commitment. It made you feel a fool.

How stupid could you be to think that he had prepared a romantic date tonight to spoil you on your birthday? Billy wasn’t capable of romance. It was so fucking clear now and you felt naïve to think otherwise.

“It’s your birthday?” Billy murmured in question, his eyebrows raising in surprise before his whole face fell to one of even more guilt. Now that he looked at you and took in your appearance, he saw how gorgeous you looked, your hair and makeup done as though ready to be spoilt throughout the night. And you should’ve been, but Billy made sure that didn’t happen.

“Wow,” you took a step back as though his words had shoved you, and you just stared at him, taking in his shock. You could feel the knife in your heart turn even more as you realised even more of just how stupid you had been today. He wasn’t pretending earlier today. Billy really had forgotten your birthday. And obviously he had absolutely nothing planned or prepared for your special day. God, you were such a fool, such a fucking fool.

Closing your eyes, you shook your head in utter disappointment, finally feeling your eyes begin to fill with tears as the adrenaline of the situation drained from you. There was no way you were going to let him see you cry. And that was what it took for you to finally pick up the little pride you had left before turning and racing out of his house, your eyes flooding as you could finally release a sob you had been trying to hide.

Billy stood at his doorway, staring at the place where you had been moments before, as the weight of what exactly he had done crushed upon his shoulders. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but he was Billy Hargrove; this is what he did. He couldn’t contain himself when he got attention from other girls, and he felt his throat tighten, disappointed that this time he had gotten caught and this time he had finally ruined everything.

He felt the other girl’s hand trail up along his back and over his shoulders, before he felt her tug him gently back towards the bed. And it was then that he finished what he had started, for what else did he have to lose now?

[abjectaspiringfailure]

Hello, in your response to one of my previous asks you mentioned that rc cells functioned like the Blacklight Virus did in Prototype. If I may ask, how so? Also, on a more random note, what would you think if there were a one-eyed ghoul featured in the series who was like Alex Mercer?

Hello, in your response to one of my previous asks you mentioned that rc cells functioned like the Blacklight Virus did in Prototype. If I may ask, how so?

Sorry this took so long to get to.

So as a preface for this post, I don’t personally believe Ishida was invoking these things in a way where he thought “this is primarily meant to be seen through the lens of the original 2009 [PROTOTYPE]”, but it is an interesting coincidence. Both Tokyo Ghoul and Prototype have a unique design style, and the result is a story that if you rush through will leave you going “well I guess things are complete but uh.... what?” Which is why Tokyo Ghoul had such a vast meta community that formed, and why Prototype has an active theory crafting community given its size and relative obscurity. Both have a web of intrigue that needed to be solved to get a good grasp on the story and arguably many things of importance are said and done offscreen.

I got absorbed in going on about both Prototype and Tokyo Ghoul, so I’m going back to put this here. I enjoyed how both of these series were basically puzzles to be solved, and I think both are misunderstood (though Tokyo Ghoul moreso than Prototype). I ended up writing a lot about the similarities that pertained to the question in the sense that there were ways the virus and RC cells had some similarities, but I ended up trimming it down significantly. So uh.

DX1118 functions by rewriting the host’s DNA to replicate. In most cases, there is death via organ failure. What “failure” and “lethality” means in the case of DX1118 is varied just like it is in Tokyo Ghoul with “success” and “floppies”; although the virus kills people, it brings them back as monsters. I’m tempted to believe this is referring to the attempts to weaponize the virus in the sense of creating super soldiers; a prelude to the DX1120 variant. The one mentioned to be Redlight explicitly has a 99.999 lethality rate.

In the case of DX1118 and its offshoots, “releasing what’s already there” means activating the non-coding areas of the genome. Essentially, the powers bestowed upon those who survive the virus in Prototype are not the result of the virus by itself, but rather the virus using things inside the human genome for mutations. The human genome actually has a rather hefty chunk of it made out of viruses that infected our ancestors and stayed in their system, roughly about 4 - 8%.

 I see Tokyo Ghoul humans as naturally progressing towards becoming ghouls due to RC cells and the way they adapted to the humans and influenced their genetic development. RC cells are not normal for humans, but the humans of the Tokyo Ghoul universe do not understand that because it seems to be the only thing they have ever known. An RC count of 200 - 500 is considered healthy and average. I believe RC cells are much like the viruses that inhabit the human genome; they’re something that’s been there all along in the Tokyo Ghoul universe.

I believe ghouls aren’t the result of just an entirely new species developing entirely separately but coincidentally being mirror replicas of humans down to anatomy, blood types, thought patterns, bone structures, and their ability to swap organs, but rather something that is the result of the RC cells in the system mutating them into new entities over time. RC cells, like the Blacklight virus, are very mutagenic. Unlike the Blacklight virus, I see most of these changes as being more gradual in the line of human -> ghoul.

It would go human - > human with “special investigator genes” (with RC cells that normal human levels but ghoul quality) -> human with “special investigator genes” and latent ROS genes having children with someone in the same position -> ghoul who cannot use a kagune (such as G&G) -> ghoul who can use a kagune -> ghoul with kakuja mutation genes - > ghoul with kakuja genes having children with kakuja genes - > kakuja

It’s more complex than that because of the way Ishida spread the information about with regards to ghoul and human biology. There’s also a lot of stuff that goes into that, with regards to ROS in both humans and ghouls, and stuff that I feel needs to be expanded upon. Eg stuff about the Oggai’s Frame A/Frame B divide, Nutcracker’s RC levels being listed as explicitly two separate types, kagunes and kakujas showing a consistent pattern of having traits of two RC types, Urie’s One Eye (Frame A)/Two Eye (Frame B), the Washuu breeding program, and how this all factors together (in the way I see it).

To get back to Blacklight and the similarities, I said this in the post you’re referring to, but I don’t think the Dragon toxin caused “ROS like symptoms”, I think the Dragon just caused ROS by increasing the RC cell levels of anyone it touched while introducing Washuu “born kakuja” genetics that can apparently form extra kakuhou pretty easily. Because there was so many cases, there was too many people to treat at once, and therefore they turned into ghouls. Usually, because the disease is so rare and much slower, it’s more controllable.

Shirazu’s sister, for example, didn’t have her ROS caused by RC cells from something so severe and there weren’t hundreds of thousands of other people who were infected, so Haru’s ROS was both slower and the resources to control it were more readily available.

When it comes to DX1118 and its variants, and RC Cells, I’m of the opinion that they work in different methods, but the effects are similar. Blacklight’s origin and true purpose is greatly muddled due to the way Prototype is written. Like Tokyo Ghoul, multiple pieces of information are ambiguous or outright lies.

There were many differing stories about what the true purpose of the Blacklight virus was - ranging from some type of super human serum meant to increase human strength and intellect, to a weapon designed to kill off specific ethnic groups, to some evolutionary compound meant to force the planet to change into a new being, to some form of inevitability that would have to be engaged regardless. This makes a lot of the information involved murky; this is actually acknowledged in universe as being completely intentional. The actual origins of DX1118 isn’t stated, as far as we can tell from the information given, it just sort of popped up out of nowhere.

The origin of RC cells is also shrouded in mystery. Ghouls are a worldwide phenomenon, so, logically, RC cells should be universal. Otherwise, ghouls would not be able to feed. It is also stated that a normal, healthy human being has between 200 - 500 RC cells, which implies that not having any RC cells is considered either unhealthy or abnormal. I’d speculate that RC cells themselves would therefore have to be either hundreds of thousands of years old and tied to the evolution of humans in the Tokyo Ghoul universe, or, spread like a contagion. The Washuu themselves became “born Kakujas” due to centuries of cannibalization before they even made it to Japan, and by the the time the Washuu became known as legendary human ghoul hunters, they were already almost indistinguishable from the local population and were identified as Japanese nobility.

So, their origins are rather different, but they have the same air of mystery about them, and they touch on similar topics. The methods they get used is different, but the conspiracy has significant overlap.

The way Blacklight works when it infects a host is via changing the host cell by activating the non-coding regions of the genome. A substantial chunk of the human genome is actually believed to be now dormant viruses that infected our ancestors, who survived them, and lived on to procreate. In Prototype, this translates to the virus mutating the human body to achieve superhuman abilities, in theory? In actuality, the failure rates of the virus are rather substantial. But if you reword it, 99.9% lethality rate translates to a .1% success rate.

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These failure rates are comparable to the original Kanou kakuhou transplantation procedure, if less survivable. (This isn’t including the 99.999% lethality variant or the one that was made to be 10x more lethal and mutagenic than that). The failure rates for the Kanou procedure are substantial, but even the failures are reminiscent of the Blacklight “Runners” that are seen moving around the city - though that feels like it’s the result of the “zombies” theme.

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While I don’t recall if it’s ever stated how the DX1120 virus differs from the DX1118 variants, the D-Codes work using similar logic to the Qs and Oggai. Both use the “power of their enemy” to fight back against them, rather than using technology such as firearms. The description of the D-Codes is essentially the same as the Qs. They use the virus to increase their metabolism, strength, durability, and even regenerative functions.

The effort put into this biology system seemed immense, and the way the information is sprinkled in seems very organic.

There was other stuff about similarities between Arima and Cross, Blackwatch and V, Elizabeth Green and Roma/Eto/Rize, but I feel like that’s a bit off topic from the question, and I think this would have been answered immediately had I not tried to explore all of those avenues. I tried to keep this more on topic to the question, but I feel the flow regardless suffered. This is kinda the issue I have with ghoul biology stuff that threw a wrench into the post. It makes sense when you look at the big picture, but taking it all separately and dispersing it to a single point makes it seem nonsensical.

I kind of hope that explains it better. I’m going to try to revisit the ghoul biology post and just sorta accept that it’s not going to flow as easily as a character analysis post because it’s more technical in nature and the information is scattered between hundreds of chapters.

edit:

oh wait, forgot something.

Also, on a more random note, what would you think if there were a one-eyed ghoul featured in the series who was like Alex Mercer?

I think about this concept a lot. The idea of an Alex Mercer like character unwrapping things in Tokyo Ghoul sounds like an interesting concept. When you mean like Alex Mercer, you mean an AOEG that is trying to unravel the mysteries involved, and any time they eat someone’s RC cells, they get the knowledge inside of them type of deal? Alex Mercer as he is in the original Prototype would likely work with Aogiri Tree. Alex Mercer as he is in Prototype 2 would probably become a member of the Clowns as an actual member, or one of the philosophical Clowns that end up screwing over Kaneki and helping out the Clowns, like Yamori or Chie Hori. 

Prototype Alex Mercer would probably start off opposed to both the CCG and Aogiri Tree, assuming you’re starting him off in Tokyo without his memories. He seems like he’d end up getting played, set up, and gaslighted by the Clowns like Kaneki, Eto, and Mutsuki were.  I imagine Mercer would quickly turn sides though once they realizes V exists and they’d probably set their sights on killing off the Clowns. tbh Mercer would probably succeed. Alex Mercer’s mindset means initially they’re going to be dancing in the palm of their hands, but the  powerset means it’s only a matter of time before everything gets revealed. Dealing almost solely in deception, gaslighting, and emotional manipulation is kind of an awful idea against a guy who can piece things together and blow your entire conspiracy to pieces. This would be like a “Karen Parker” situation, only the Clowns aren’t really used to hiding so much as sitting out in the open and none of them would be strong enough to beat someone with Alex Mercer’s powerset even in ghoul form tbh.

He’d probably join Aogiri Tree and Goat in the long run, even if briefly. The story would go off the rails long before Goat would form, though.

Alex Mercer at the end of Prototype is a different beast entirely but also kinda hard to figure out; the original writer wasn’t involved with a lot of the stuff after, and the Prototype 2 Alex Mercer feels like the original got consumed by like the Supreme Hunter and it just decided to wear his skin. Prototype 2 was originally Spiderman 4 before it was reskinned to be Protoype 2 so like everything was already set up and in place and it’s obvious that Father G was Uncle Ben, Mercer was Dr. Octavius, Heller was Peter, “viral sonar” is spidersense, etc. The writer that took over apparently hated Alex Mercer, from what I was told by people who talked to the guy. Isn’t really a good thing to go into writing with. Salt towards Alex Mercer being demonized is kinda universal. Heller had some good moments, but I felt his character was wasted. Wish the game just stayed as Spiderman 4, and Prototype 2 was on the Xbox One/PS4 rather than what Activision forced Radical to do.

I guess you could say that Prototype 2 is to the original Prototype what the anime is to Tokyo Ghoul.

But, we can infer things. It’s likely Mercer would be distrustful of everyone due to the experience with the Supreme Hunter, but very unsure of themselves. Automatic opposition to the scary conspiracy group is guaranteed. There’s an automatic opposition to killing indiscriminately from a character perspective even if the game doesn’t punish you for it; by the end, Alex is even fed up with killing soldiers who aren’t commanders. I’m not sure if he’d join up with Aogiri. Aogiri avoided civilian population centers and kept their targets military in nature, yes. On the other hand, they also just told ghouls like Torso “yo, knock it off, the CCG will getcha” and they let the Clowns or ghouls like Big Madam roam free and even worked with them, even if in the later case it was related to trying to see if Takizawa would awaken Haise’s memories.

Goat is a possibility. Kaneki’s strategy of disarming the CCG would probably be something Alex Mercer would go for. I imagine he’d also just go right for Furuta’s throat. The only reason this wasn’t done in the original Prototype was because Blackwatch’s commander was on the Reagan and was shooting anyone who got close out of the sky. Canonically the WOI does confirm an attempt to just fly therw with a helicopter only to get intercepted, and Alex also mentions that when they have their conversation with the Supreme Hunter.

Most likely though, Alex Mercer would end up working with Hide’s group and helping Kurona if he finds out about Kurona’s story. Especially Kurona. She’s simultaneously after a mad scientist who turned her into a monster, and she’s also Dana’s age. I see him helping her in her quest to get back at Kanou. With Hide, Alex sorta uses any help he can get, and Hide seems like he’d find Mercer because he’s just that good.

I think they would work with Eto if Eto opened up to them but.. Eto doesn’t really open up to people unless they violently maim her, like Kaneki or Arima. She might end up becoming interested in Alex if Alex starts trying to kill her, like Kaneki, but man. That’s not healthy.

Prototype 2 Alex Mercer, like I said, would likely be on board with the Clowns, but probably only from a philosophical sense. He agrees with their surface level stuff - the world is awful, people need to be killed, nothing matters, releasing giant monsters that kill millions is hilarious, innocent people deserve to be tortured, children are fair game, cause terror for lols, work with the conspiracy that controls the world while also killing its members because that’s fun and convenient, etc. Whether or not he ends up joining them outright or being like Yamori or Horie is up in the air, but I imagine he’d not be allowed. Furuta’s very good at analysis so I assume he’d see Alex as a threat from the get go and would keep him at a distance at all times.

Most likely it would end up in some weird battle with Mercer and Furuta being the main combatants just screwing with each other using secret agents, and Kaneki’s just. Kaneki. And gets stuck in the middle of it, just barely surviving. P2′s Mercer’s “here’s free viral powers kids” probably translates to kakuho implantation that’s even more casual than Eto’s, and his ability to just fire off viral clouds everywhere would most likely translate to him having the ability to just blast Dragon toxin. Alex in P2 gyrates pretty violently between “invincible and impossibly incompetent” to “literally so incompetent he gives the person trying to kill him the power to kill him and slowly feeds him powerups while letting them ruin his plans before stepping in and immediately giving up once a single attempt to murder them doesn’t work and then decides to go back to feeding them powerups until they can kill him” so.

I’m not sure if he’d like, do what Furuta did to Kaneki and give him the power to kill him, only entirely on purpose instead of accidentally, or if he’d just. Instantly vaporize all of his opponents.

He probably gives Eto, Kaneki, and Mutsuki power ups and then goes around trying to piss them off while claiming he’d trying to destroy V and Furuta. And he would actually, really, be trying to stop V and Furuta, but also he wouldn’t be, and he’s be working with them, but he wouldn’t.

He’d go to America, kill Heller’s family, and then turn Heller into a OEG that kills him.

You didn’t mention Heller, but there’s no way he’d be okay with V or the Clowns or probably even Anteiku (because Anteiku okayed set up civilian hunting grounds). He’d also oppose Aogiri Tree for the same reasons I think post Prototype 1 Alex would, but he might work with them like he did Rooks if he saw them as useful. The moment Furuta marches out the Oggai, if it came to that, he’d probably just go right for Furuta. The only reason Heller doesn’t do this with Mercer is because Mercer is hiding, but otherwise he’s pretty keen on just going to his current target and punching them in the face out in broad daylight surrounded by witnesses. And turning a bunch of children into the Oggai and having them go around slaughtering people would definitely set Heller off.

The story would also go off the rails.

I mean if you mean a One Eyed Ghoul with amnesia running around NYC slowly unraveling the secret surrounding V’s American Branch in the form of Blackwatch and imaging a scenario? I think that would be pretty cool, personally.

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There’s a lot of potential for a Tokyo Ghoul game in the style of Prototype. A lot of the powers that work in Prototype feel like they’d feel right at home in Tokyo Ghoul and vice verse. Eg the wallrunning could be explain with kagune wallrunning that Eto and Kaneki show. You could have a spiritual successor to Cross and some overarching super ghoul investigator counterpart to Arima, but his thing would be entirely different?

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Less Arima’s “this literally doesn’t make sense, how did Arima hit that attack, he’s literally not holding anything and how did he just shoot lightning out of his quinque that can’t shoot lightning when he’s got that quinque in a box I originally thought this was an art mistake but he literally just keeps doing impossible things and they’re even lampshading in the manga so wait did he pull out Narukami and put it back into the box just to troll???”

(I think ishida does stuff like this where he messes with things like this for artistic reasons in this case it entirely works and helps hit home how invincible Arima is, and I originally thought it was art mistakes but it’s not)

And more “Shinohara, but on steroids”. Cross in Prototype was a very maneuverable surprisingly well armed opponent who could take a beating relative to most other enemies you faced outside of, for example, the Supreme Hunter. Similar type of opponent but also different. Like have the guy use multiple +SS and SSS rate quinques as standard, and he’s also got an SSS rate kakuja quinque and he can take a beating because of it, too. Not that he’s unskilled; he’s very skilled, just less so than Arima. Maybe have him also be the final boss like Arima was the final boss in the original Tokyo Ghoul, but just make him an absolute monster that completely and utterly destroys people. Maybe even have it be a no win scenario to fight the guy? Have it come up that “oh well this guy right here is attacking your friends but if you fight him, you’re going to die no matter what, don’t risk it” and you have a choice and if you choose to fight him, the game switches genres to horror and you just die. Not an easy fight to die in either.

They should definitely make a game about that. Just, spiritual successor to the original Prototype and have Detwiller and Ishida just run wild with the insane conspiracy theory story and their under the radar references to their knowledge of the military, economics, Kafka, numbers, trolling, and Lovecraft.

Just make the story impossible to understand, you know? You have to find 248 different cutscenes to get part of the story explicitly, and to unlock some of the cutscenes you have to hack into the game code to pull out poems made out of ASCII images of Ishida’s art. But to get the art, you have to pull a bunch of stuff off of twitter, relatively obscure secondary material, and some of it has to be found long after the launch of the game. Like, just maybe throw a random string of numbers into an art book released a year after the game was launched and have the numbers related to the code just hidden and you just... can’t find them? But only maybe, you’re not sure.

Throw Walt Williams from Spec Ops: The Line in there too. Have him contribute. All decisions are simultaneously wrong and correct at the same time. Nothing makes sense - but it totally does. You know what you’re doing is wrong. Or do you? None of these horrors would have happened if you’d just stopped, but you can’t stop. Not now, not when you’re so close. This person you’re pursuing, they’re definitely the bad guy. You’re in the clear. You’re not being tricked, you’re not mistaken, you made these decisions rationally. Your friends are in danger, you’re not bringing danger to them.

You feel so powerful and then boom, it happens. snap back to reality. And you should have seen it coming, but you didn’t. It’s not that it wasn’t there, it’s just that you weren’t looking - you decided “I’m not going to look”. You ignored what was right in front of you for some silly fantasy and it all hurts so much and oh god, everything is burning, help help help. Why didn’t anyone listen, I feel so alone.

and then have another spinoff spiritual successor flip from tokyo to new york in a surprise twist and it turns out that you were just starring in the villains’ self insert selfcest genderbender trollfic the e n t i r e t i m e or something it’s ambiguous I guess you gotta figure it out and no one will believe you and everything is just trolling