#if i sound a bit deranged it's because i have completely lost my mind :)

[the-ghost-king]

anytime I start a new fic and it's incomplete/in progress and it's unbelievably good I'm always incredibly nervous the author will stop uploading, especially when they have like "lets see if i can actually finish this" type comments in the notes and I can't judge because I completely understand and you'll note the only thing I ever posted to ao3 that couldn’t be a standalone oneshot was deleted like 7 chapters in so like i can't be upset i am also the guilty party but dear author please know your words have left me laying on the floor and staring at the cieling only 3 chapters in and i need this fic i can tell from just these few chapters that it is going to mean something to me (it already does even if you finish here) but the way it would hit me if you manage to get all the chapters uploaded

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU

Warnings; Several yanderes, platonic yanderes, romantic yanderes, yandere behavior, monster au, fem reader, no one starts off knowing reader is fem so they/them pronouns used, deranged behavior, spiders, driders, centaurs, unicorns, Nemean lions, werewolves, selkies, minotaurs, genies, nagas, magic, threats, panic,

~~~~~~~~

Nothing made sense anymore.

None of what you saw could have possibly been real, and even if it was, where did that leave you? The area was not familiar and you had gone through one of those mirrors to get where you were. Hopefully those... things... wouldn't think to look for you where you decided to hide out until you got a plan together. This was all provided you could think of a plan despite everything going on around you.

When you had woken up inside a coffin, the panic had set in so quickly. Since the very second that coffin spilled you out on the marble floors to the odd creatures that greeted you with unhindered curiosity, you were afraid and lost. Even now as impossible things had taken place, a thought echoed in your head from what one of the creatures had said.

I thought Humans were extinct?

Certainly a few of those you saw around you looked human, but most were some kind of creature or abominable hybrid. None of it made sense because creatures like this couldn't possibly exist, right? If that was true, you were suffering some kind of psychotic break. But if it wasn't true, if you could actually trust your eyes to tell you the truth, then you had something completely new to deal with.

Exhaustion hit you hard enough that you couldn't help but cuddle close to your stone companion and shelter, seeking comfort in the cold statue.

~•§•~

Eyes slowly flickered open in the dark, searching with sleep-hazed confusion at the oddly cramped surroundings. Attempting to lift your hands only made more confusion race through your mind as some kind of lid stopped you from completing the motion. The fog of sleep that had hung so heavy in your mind was now replaced with sharp awareness and clarity, throwing you into a state of panic as you realized you were trapped.

The dark container you found yourself in had you thrashing and desperate for freedom from your newfound confines. Your kicking and thrashing- painful against the lid of your container- managed to actually knock the top loose and slightly ajar. That bit of light from outside was the only encouragement your knowledge deprived brain needed to know it was doing the right thing by struggling. What you didn't expect was the feeling of this human-sized container pitching forward to spill you out unceremoniously on the ground.

The cold surface beneath you felt even colder on your soft face, wondering just where you were and why all of your memories leading up to that moment were just a blur. You didn't have long to spend on your musings before an unusual voice reached your ears, closer to a baritone than a tenor but still a masculine sounding tone.

"Oh my, I thought we had all of the students accounted for. Could it be I miscounted?"

You pushed yourself up with your hands to try and face whoever was speaking, seeing an oddly feathered man with dark black hair walking towards you. He wore a mask- or perhaps he truly had a beak- that made him look like a rather large corvid walking towards you. Despite his humanoid features, something in the back of your mind told you that this man was not what he appeared at first glance. Even his bright yellow eyes that shined from beneath the black mask seemed inhuman as they studied you intently.

"You certainly don't seem like one of the sudents I selected. I'm fairly sure I would remember someone odd... like you..?"

The man stopped in his tracks, regarding you strangely as if he were actually looking at you now. He certainly wasn't recognizeable to you and you had no sense of familiarity upon seeing him. Something about you must have caught the man's attention as he cocked his head to the side, crouching next to you and observing you keenly. Something about the way he moved was so bird-like you wondered if he was pretending to be some character or if there were actually something inhuman about him.

"I don't often need to ask this question, and I am very curious now what your answer will be, but what are you?"

That was certainly an odd question. You thought the answer would have been obvious, but something about the whole situation made you feel like what you were going through wasn't normal.

"Human..? Isn't everyone?"

There was a long moment of silence and it was in this silence you decided to look around now that your poor face stopped hurting from your abrupt meeting with the ground. You were in the center of a large room where what seemed to be dozens of coffins with various sizes and shapes floated around you. The container you came from was also a coffin and you could see where you had actually damaged the smooth wood with your desperate attempt at freedom.

Beyond the floating coffins- as surreal as they were- you noticed that you were not the only two present. Many others were standing around you, all in the same black, purple, and gold robes. All looking at you with unguarded curiosity. It was as you looked at these unusually robed people that you began to realize none of them looked particularly human. The more you searched, the clearer it became that none of those standing around you seemed to be fully human.

One of those standing there was a heartbreakingly beautiful bird-man with smooth complexion and flawless makeup darkening his lovely purple eyes. His fair blond hair woven with long feathers. Behind him was a long train of peacock feathers in iridescent colors that seemed all the more colorful beneath the flicking candlelight. As he noticed you glance at him, he seemed to almost puff out his chest in pride and the feather train behind him ruffled ever so slightly.

There was what you could only describe as a some kind of horned horse-man standing not too far from the bird-man. He had fiery red hair that complimented his smokey blue eyes, a prominent golden horn sat in the middle of his forehead with two long strands of hair framing the protrusion. His horse-half had pure white fur, the tail of the horse sporting the same flaming hair the human-half had. The hooves on the horse half were that same sparkling golden that made the hybrid almost seem regal in a way.

Even beyond the two oddities you saw more and more inhuman features on the beings standing around you. There was a light murmur of conversation humming through the air and that was when you caught something unusual.

"I thought Humans were extinct?"

You were brought back to attention by the man in front of you clapping his hands as he stood back to full height. He had an unsettling smile playing on his lips and he regarded you the same way one would regard a lost puppy sitting, shivering from fear and cold at their door.

"You actually are a Human, aren't you? How amazing! To think, a Human just appeared at my college after centuries of one not even being sighted! How thrilling. This certainly is an unusual situation, and it is my duty as Headmage to safeguard such an endangered creature. Worry not, little Human, you are safe here. Aren't I just the kindest?"

You felt like you had been dropped in some wretched nightmare that made no sense despite how desperately you searched for it. There was no such thing as horned horse men, or crow men, or peacock men! None of this was possibly happening because these things just didn't exist where you were from. Maybe as a child you had believed such lies, but as an adult you couldn't comprehend these creatures possibly existing. It was just madness.

It was as you were pulling yourself to your feet that another voice spoke up, this one a touch deeper than that of the Crow man.

"Merveilleux~ to see such a mythical being up close like this... Their beauty is absolutely stunning in such a captivating and exotic way, très bien!"

You saw the man speaking and felt a little confused when he was taller than many of those standing around him. As others moved to look at him you saw just what it was that gave him such height above the rest. It looked as if someone had taken the top half of a man and attached it to the body of a spider about where the face would be. The spider body itself was compact with black markings along the abdomen and long, spindly legs that seemed more than double the length of the body. Two prominent fangs sat curled at the front of the man, slightly obscured by his robes hanging over them, but you could see the faint sheen of venom on the pointed surface of the far too-large mandibles.

Something about seeing the handsome face and shining green eyes of the blond man paired with the monstrous spider-body that he was attached to made the world seem to spin and pitch beneath you. Though you had just managed to get to your feet you certainly didn't feel steady on them, but as the crow man reached out to steady you, you did the only thing you could think of and bolted. Your sudden flight from the situation made several others startle, and in the confusion you darted for what looked like an exit or portal out.

It had not been what you hoped it to be as you found yourself standing before a dark castle that seemed all the more intimidating compared to the monster filled room you just fled. Still, you could try to find somewhere in the castle to lay low, maybe even out on one of the balconies next to the many Gargoyles that overlooked the dour building. There had to be somewhere out of place enough for you to hide- or so you hoped- from the hybrid monsters that so happily decided to keep you despite not knowing a thing about you.

The slow wandering of halls with no opposition put you on edge, wondering if you just got lucky or if you hadn't seen anyone for a reason. Even as your footsteps quietly echoed in the dark halls, you remained vigilant in your quest to find somewhere out of the way.

Eventually that quest for somewhere safe led you to one of the many rooftops of the building. Your salvation came in the form of a recessed alcove that went further back than it appeared, facing away from the front of the castle. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep you sheltered from the rather cold wind and make you feel concealed even among the rooftop.

With Gargoyles as your company and adrenaline quickly fading, you found yourself exhausted and in need of a rest. Despite how fast you seemed to have stumbled upon your hiding place, you could see it had actually been quite a distance you must have run. The portal far away on the other side of the enormous drawbridge that let you into the castle. Your energy was sapped and you were more than confused, but you couldn't fight the insistent pull of sleep on your frazzled mind forever.

~•§•~

The old crow Fae was still reeling from the absolute shock he had just gone through, but most would likely be feeling the same were they in his shoes. It simply was next to impossible, but an actual Human was roaming the halls of Night Raven College. He himself had last seen a Human more than half a millennia ago and they had since been declared extinct for several centuries. Seeing such a mythical being in the Hall of Mirrors was certainly unexpected and curious.

At first he believed they were a Selkie who had lost their fur, but the absolute lack of magic from them told him all he needed to know. Humans were the only non-magic species that had reached sentience in Twisted Wonderland, but this left them at a disadvantage as all other sentient species had magic and quickly out competed them. Some of the Naga and other beastman tribes even took to eating humans as a delicacy before they were declared extinct. Now Crowley had what was very possibly the first recorded Human in centuries somewhere lost in his college.

The grants he could get to care for the Human alone justified finding them and keeping them at Night Raven despite the fact they were not actually a student or member of the college. Even beyond just the money to keep such a rare specimen safe, he was going to get to see their magicless qualities first hand. It was always assumed that Humans had some kind of innate abilities to make up for the fact that they didn't have magic. Their affable nature made them great at keeping the peace between strong personalities and powerful magic users. Though Humans were technically at the bottom of the food chain as far as sentient species were concerned, Crowley could keep this one creature safe at Night Raven College.

All he needed to do now was find the wayward Human and get them to settle down. Of course, there was still the question for where the Human could possibly stay that would ensure their safety.

~•§•~

The dark haired prince walked through the somber halls of Diasomnia. Emerald eyes taking note of the ever familiar surroundings that made up his temporary home. The dour prince was looking to visit his beloved Gargoyles and figured now was as good a time as any. He had not been invited to the ceremony after all and he was not so rude as to show up without invitation and no good reason. Besides, it had been a while since he last visited his beloved statues.

As he made his usual rounds based on the age of the statue, the horned royal paused when greeted with an unfamiliar sight. Beneath one of the Gargoyles was someone soft and delicate looking. They were clearly not made of the same stone as the statues, but by all appearances the Gargoyles had borne a child of flesh and not stone. Perhaps Lilia would know where this odd little creature came from.

The prince was gentle removing the soft (s/c) being from beneath the statue, taking care to not wake the warm creature. His obsidian wings flared with contentment as he managed to extract the oddly delicate humanoid. Outwardly appearing, they almost seemed to be a selkie without fur, but their scent said otherwise. They were much softer than a siren or banshee which often had very taut skin. With renewed purpose, the thorn prince carried his new discovery to his own room, tucking the little being into his blankets. He would find somewhere else for the odd creature to stay after he conversed with Lilia. For now, he could leave the fragile being in the safety of his nest until he figured out what they were.

Perhaps he would crash the ceremony after all. Even if he wasn't invited, this was a good reason.

[comfortless]

i have been thinking about this for a while and i love how you write, so what do you think of biker!könig with a gf that studies in uni? how did they meet? does he get jealous easily of her classmates? what is the aftermath of his jealousy (😏)?

thank you so much 🩷

-🌵

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. fem (afab) reader, suggestive, but mostly just two sillies attempting to flirt.

They first cross paths at a gas station. Sundown and desolate apart from the woman who approaches the tiny shop on foot whilst he straddles his bike at the pump.

She doesn’t notice him, and that’s just fine. More often than not, people do but for the wrong reasons. It’s always the height or the face only his mother could love. This is a good thing, shows she’s not hasty with her judgment, shows she’s just unaware enough to let something like him in.

It’s stupid, completely ridiculous at how he feels his heart thump to life, ribcage squeezing and stomach a whirl with butterflies at the mere sight. The furthest thing from love comes to mind at the sight: plush thighs peeking out against the hem of shorts that cut off just below her bum, the tight tanktop that displays her cleavage in a way so enticing. But that’s what he immediately thinks of, that word that seems foreign to him even in his mother tongue.

Love.

König could be a gentleman, lie her down in his bed instead of fucking her over the bike, if she were kind enough to follow him home. That offer feels heavy as lead on his tongue, lost someplace in his throat when he really gets a good view of her.

He’s never been good with talking to women, anyway. Especially not an angel so far out of his league she would surely only scoff with her sweet drink in hand, turn away from him with her nose held high and dark circles under her eyes as she suffers through another paper back at her dorm or wherever she came from.

So, he leaves her be as much as he can and should, only watches her with his helmet in place and that dark visor masking where his eyes wander from her face down to the retreating view of her legs as she walks.

The next time time is during the rain.

König is good at refraining from acting on base instinct. There’s a lot to consider before stealing away some miserable dove on the sidewalk, the light drizzle from above soaking into her dress and battering her lashes as she sits and waits for a ride that just doesn’t seem to be coming. He’s got his military background, keeps his house tidy and rarely muddles in the affairs of other people.

It’s just that she’s cold.

He tells himself that the only reason he stops his bike some meters away is because she will get sick if he doesn’t offer her a ride. He’s just being a gentleman. There’s nothing more to it.

So he does. Keeps his helmet on and masks his face as well as the weird excitement and nervousness in his voice when the muffled offer taints the wet air.

It doesn’t matter that he wouldn’t have never considered any of this if she weren’t so cute. If she didn’t look so fragile and sweet. She smiles and nods immediately, fusses with her dress a bit when she climbs onto the bike behind him when she tells him that she’s only just been on a date. It just hadn’t turned out well and whoever the bastard had been had dipped before even the entree was served.

It sends his mind spiraling when it shouldn’t.

It’s deranged to think of her misfortune as fate when it isn’t.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know where to put my hands,” she laughs someplace against his shoulder, chin just slightly tilted up to bump his damp t-shirt. It’s the nicest thing he’s ever heard, not mocking at all, only shy.

“Around me.”

He sounds like an old pervert, feels just like one when he takes her hands into his own and guides them around his middle. Presses in a bit too tight, because it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman so close and it feels good to be held like this.

She makes some quiet noise, a soft gasp, then presses her face into the darkness of his shirt to hide away from the rain or maybe…

“You can come home with me. It’s close.”

She laughs again, and he’s reminded of just how little tact that he has with the fairer sex. She must think him an idiot, some hopeful vigilante that scoops women up from the street after nightmare dates with bad food or bad dick. It sounds so stupid to his own ears, he knows he’s burning crimson beneath the black helmet.

Until she squeezes him a bit, gives what must be her best attempt at a hug from their positioning. Again, too, maybe out of surprise that there’s muscle there. Something a woman like her might like.

“I’ve got nothing to lose, huh?” and then “You seem a lot nicer than he was, anyway.”

The air gets stolen from his lungs and his jaw grows loose. She had only told him yes to maybe sitting on his couch, watching some miserable war film until he brought her back to her academic wasteland, but not a part of him had expected that.

It takes a moment for him to realize he hasn’t said a word, that he’s sat panting like some stay being offered a meaty bone. He takes a moment to reposition her grip around him, too ashamed of the way his cock springs to life at her closeness and the ridiculous fantasy playing out in his head.

“Right… you can dry off there.”

He doesn’t immediately remove the helmet when she steps into his abode, just guides her over to the washroom when she asks if he would mind if she used his shower and lets her be. That room has never known a woman’s touch, and the shirt he gives her to change into isn’t comparable to the cute, floral thing she was wearing.

He takes her dress to the dryer to distract himself from the fact that she’s naked in there, just a flimsy door away. Changes out of his own sopping wet clothes after considering that maybe she would want to touch him again. Maybe it felt nice for her too, just to hold someone. He could hold her too, if she wanted that, bring her right to his bed and keep her safe and warm.

“You’re out of conditioner,” she peeps as she steps back out of the bathroom. “Just thought you would want to…”

Her eyes trail over him for a time as her words taper off to nothing. Then, they’re locked to his face and any hope goes up in an inferno. The scars are probably scary, the dark circles from weeks of minimal sleep are probably even worse. She probably thinks him some sort of monster or a demon, something no girl should be left alone with.

Then, she smiles.

“Wow…”

“What…?”

He expects the worst and instinctively casts a sideways glance toward the helmet sat by the door. The perfect covering to avoid situations like this. It’s not that he’s dependent on it, but… maybe he would have had some sort of chance had he not taken it off.

“I’m sorry for staring, you’re just really…”

Ugly. Scary. Whatever words she’s considering, he doesn’t care to hear them. She could just ask to go home, save herself some fear and save him from another rejection.

“… cute.”

“Okay.”

Scheisse.

That wasn’t a “thank you” or anything of substance, but this is more mortifying than anything prior. Even the women who had pitied him with a date before had never called him something so endearing, never likened him to some adorable little thing or stared up at him like she does now. She only seems giddy, a fire burning behind her eyes like she’s just discovered some secret treasure.

“… cuter than your date?,” he hazards, rolls his shoulders and tilts his head at her. His attempt at sounding confident only comes across bitter and jealous. Maybe he is, but that fucker blew his chance, and she’s blessing König with far too many.

“Definitely.”

The tension feels tangible, despite the absurdity of all of this. He’s not sure what to do with his hands, where to look, what to say or how long to take between breaths.

She’s stood there in his shirt, looking as if she’s already his and he’s the one left feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

“I think you’re pretty.”

“Yeah?”

“Ever since I first saw you, I…” He’s babbling too much, losing any composure because she just keeps her eyes trained on him, that adorable smile curling at her lips. If he sounded creepy, like he’s been following her, she doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Maybe you could take me on a date sometime,” she suggests, her voice coming as a breathy little whisper. Maybe she is shy, but she’s giving him the OK to push and prod and see just how far he can go, to expend all of his luck on this very night.

The rain outside only grows louder, threatening to cut the power and leave this docile angel in some dark pit with a mad king. He wishes it would, it grows harder to keep the prominent excitement in his crotch concealed the more that she talks and bats her eyelashes at him.

Being over-eager was a turn-off, right? He weighs his next words the best he can, considers playing it safe for just half a moment before they escape him anyway.

“Come here.”

There’s a darker storm brewing in his eyes when she takes those first, fragile steps toward him. But she graces him with the light of a spark when her hand finds his chest and presses there, feels his heart beating like it’s a normal thing to search for, like she’s just as mesmerized and surprised as she is now.

She’s snared in an instant with a face buried into her damp hair, lifted up with her legs guided to wrap around his waist. A decade worth of luck spent just like that, but he’s always been greedy.

The demand for more comes with a callused hand guiding her chin up. Her lips part immediately, eyelashes fluttering until they rest atop her cheeks, already warmed with the anticipation of what’s to come. His kissing begins gentle, soft for a second as he tries to memorize the plushness and curvature of her lips with his mouth alone.

Then, it’s only punishing.

He tries to hold himself back, but knowing he could have had this weeks ago while she was wandering about barely dressed drives him insane. The moment she gasps against his mouth, his tongue slips inside to find hers, rolls over it with such a ferocity that the corner of her mouth begins to glisten with their shared drool. She whines, then moans as her hands curl over his neck, petting at the short hair at the base of his skull.

His hands fall to her ass to keep her in place, gives her a pinch and then a grope when he realizes she’s not wearing underwear at all.

And that’s where the well must have run dry, because she tilts her face away with a series of soft pants, squeezes her trembling thighs around him as if to make a silent demand to stop, or maybe not. Everything she does makes him feel both hot and crazy; she doesn’t even attempt to wind out of his grip here, only looks up at him sultry and helpless. She must be wet, he can smell it, practically taste her already, but he doesn’t persist when she halts this dance.

“Wait… waitwait. I don’t even know your name.”

“König.”

She laughs breathlessly, then dips her head to press against his shoulder. His hand immediately rises to pet at her hair, twirling a few strands between his fingers as she tells him her name in turn.

“I don’t really want this to just be… one night, you know?,” she says, and that intrigues him.

“That so..?”

“Mhm…”

He slowly lowers her back down until her feet meet the carpeted floor, then takes her face into both hands while she gives him a cute pout. He could be sympathetic, could make her love him even… she’s left the door open for him already, after all.

“I could just hold you,” he mutters, tracing a circle into her cheek, savoring in the way her eyes seem to light up at that.

“I would like that.”

[hismercytomyjustice]

Ayyy, I’m back on my bullshit with my BG3 fic! Just about to hit 86k words. Good god.

Still struggling to comprehend that. And still have about two chapters to go. Eh, maybe 1.5. I’m thinking it’ll end around 95k. Maybe 100k. (・ω・｀)………..

Those numbers sound wildly fake. Especially how up until this fic, I’d never written anything longer than maybe 55k.

I can’t believe I’m finally reaching the end. Just a month or two ago, I was convinced I might never finish it with how bad my analysis paralysis was.

The whole reason I even started posting it was because my therapist suggested it as a way to help me out of the OCD spiral it was sending me into. I had fully intended not to post any of it until it was completely finished because I was terrified I’d never finish it.

…def don’t have unfinished shit haunting me decades later from ff.net…

Somehow my most popular fic on there was an InuYasha one from my MAJOR InuYasha brain rot days. God, Sesshomaru lived rent free in my head for fucking YEARS.

I am so fucking distraught with how they decided to handle his character arc. There is SO MUCH Sesshomaru merch out there this day and age. I would have lost my fucking mind as a teen if it had been available then. But I just can’t enjoy it now.

Like, no shade to those who are happy with how he wound up with Rin. I’m just not one of them. I just personally feel like it was a missed opportunity for both of their character arcs and also imho…he was pretty much her dad, so it just doesn’t sit right with me. Especially with how young she was when he took her in…

Would’ve loved to see her wind up with Kohaku like it felt they were going to. I also really loved Sesshomaru and Kagura together too (minus the whole uh…her no longer being around thing).

God my life fucking revolved around that show for literal years. Pretty much all of high school. Maybe some of middle school? I don’t remember 100% when I started watching it.

Idk if it was a special interest or a hyperfocus or what. It doesn’t happen to me often (despite what it might seem like on here). POTO hit me around the same time (when I was 16) and then there was a gap until Pacific Rim with a brief Transformers interlude in between.

The fact it’s happened again recently with BG3, Hazbin, and borderline IWTV is fucking wild to me. Like oh yeah, I get obsessed with shit but there’s obsessed and then there is Obsessed™. It might not look that different from an outside perspective, but good god it is BAD on the inside.

I fucking LOVE IWTV but I’m not hunting down every single microscopic bit of lore I can find for it.

Hazbin and BG3 tho? Good fucking god. I am desperate to consume anything I can fucking find. I am watching interviews, reading veritable dissertations on them, I am thinking about them non-fucking-stop.

You can gauge my true level of derangement by:

1. Have I written fanfic about it?

2. How much fanfic have I written about it?

IWTV is an A Tier obsession for me. BG3 and Hazbin? That shit is S Tier.

Not that I write fanfic for everything S Tier, case in point Stardew Valley, but yeah…there’s a fucking reason I have fucking 7 Pacific Rim fanfics under my belt.

And right now I’ve got a multi-chapter Hazbin crack fic cooking on the side that’s already about to hit 9k words. It is wildly self-indulgent but damn if I’m not enjoying every fucking second of it.

Maybe one day I’ll get back to the modern day Phantom AU I started back at the end of January. It’s got 5k on it. My only real concern with it tho is I worry about drifting too close to Binary, my fave POTO fanfic of all time. And, tbh, a solid contender for my fave fic of all time in general. The number of times I have read that masterpiece.

Fuck. Cannot recommend it enough if you’re a POTO fan. It is a goddamn work of art.

But yeah, being so close to finishing this BG3 fic is such a weird feeling. It kind of makes me want to peel my skin off and flee into the woods? But I think it’ll also be really fucking good for me. And I can’t believe I’m about to do it. It’s fucking terrifying lol. My OCD is NOT HAPPY.

I can take “comfort” in the fact I still have 9 weeks of editing ahead of me tho I guess? (ಥ﹏ಥ) Maybe that’ll shut my goddamn fucking OCD up with its chants of “you never finish anything, you’ll never finish this, best to give up now, easier to give it up than fight through until the end, you should give it up before everyone comes to their senses and realize it’s awful” blah blah blah.

OCD is the fucking WORST.

Weirdly I also have piano to thank for my ability to write again? Because the hardcore fucking OCD spirals that shit was sending me on was what made me realize I constantly have OCD spirals running in the background. It’s making them a fuck of a lot easier to see earlier on too. And that was like…Category 2/3 OCD for me lol. Writing was probably Category 4/5 until recently. There’s other shit that’s solidly a Cat 5 but I don’t ever intend to talk about it on here. That’s what I have my therapist for! Yay, therapy!

It is truly fucking wild seeing an OCD specialist though who is just like “oh, your big scary brain is not as big and scary as it wants you to think.” Like that was one of the biggest “holy shit” moments I had when she was walking me through the stages of OCD spirals and I was just like…I never saw the pattern before. But there it was. Spelled out in black and white on a little fucking worksheet.

Fucking insane.

Tumblr has helped me so fucking much too by making it easy for me journal about it all regularly. I don’t always post what I journal, but it helps me see the forest for the trees regardless. And by forcing myself to “share” shit, I’m chipping away at the part of my OCD that fucking thrives on avoidance and self-consciousness about this shit. Because you’re not supposed to avoid OCD thoughts. That just makes ultimately them worse. So I share them on here knowing there’s like a 1% anyone will ever read any of this, but it’s enough to take away some of the fear/shame/avoidance that would otherwise add fuel to the fire so.

┐(￣ ヘ￣)┌

It’s all not as big and bad and scary and awful as my OCD makes it out to be in the confines of my noggin. It’s fucking hard sometimes, sharing some of this stuff because it’s embarrassing and awful and stupid. There’s nothing logical about OCD thoughts and knowing that makes it even fucking worse.

Like… I know the entirety of the internet isn’t going to just show up one day and tell me my writing is shit and I should quit. Logically. My OCD, however… It makes a lot of compelling arguments to my little lizard brain that are a lot harder to ignore.

Like how I almost didn’t sign up for piano classes at all because my OCD told me I’d never practice and I’d be wasting the teacher’s time and if I then quit I was frivolously playing with part of their livelihood and therefore a terrible fucking person. Would I say that to someone else? Absolutely not. That’s all absurd. Did I spend weeks agonizing over it in my noggin? Abso-fuckin’-lutely I did. And it didn’t even occur to me it was batshit until I finally brought it up to my husband and realized “wait one goddamn second, this is an OCD spiral, isn’t it?”

Lololol. The “joys” of mental illness! But hey, at least the therapy seems to be working. One step at a time baybeee!

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

So...Misery style, how would you make Tomione work? (Or how would you do a Tomione story?)

Thanks, Anon, this might be harder than the Dramione one.

Well, again, to please my deranged captor, I'd likely follow the plot of your standard Tomione fic and hope it passes muster. "Oh yeah, Hermione's back in time and she's doing back and forth mind games with Tom and it's really intellectual." With any luck, my feet aren't smashed into oblivion.

But I think you're trying to get at what I would really do if I really had to write Tom/Hermione and I had to make it something I would read. At least, that seems to be the spirit of this ask.

So, we're going the thriller route people. A lot like Misery, actually.

Instead of Ginny, twelve-year-old Hermione picks up the diary. Like Ginny, Hermione quickly becomes besotted with Tom Riddle trapped inside. However, unlike Ginny, Hermione goes straight to the library and starts asking pesky questions.

Hermione's never heard of memories stored in objects before, the theory behind portraits and pensieves are completely different, what spells did Tom use and where did he find them? Did Tom Riddle invent an entirely new branch of magic at the age of 16 without anyone noticing? What was Tom's special service to the school?

Tom starts sweating when it becomes clear that Hermione's stumbling a bit too close to the truth (that this is not ordinary magic and highly dangerous shit) and that she's clearly going to start asking around about Tom Riddle (to Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Hagrid, who were all near Hogwarts at the same time Tom was going to school).

Tom confesses that he may have created the diary using something very... illegal. Hermione is appalled and asks if it was gasp dark magic! He admits it is but points out it's a bit late now, like it or not, he's stuck in the diary and running to Dumbledore isn't going to make that go away any time soon. And it wasn't like Tom asked to be shoved in a diary either.

Hermione's very conflicted, on the one hand, Tom's the first real intellectual friend she's ever had. Harry and Ron are nice, but they're morons and they thinks he's a nerd. Tom encourages her intellectual pursuits and confirms her concern over various what not and what have you happening in Hogwarts.

Eventually, Hermione decides that Tom in the diary can't help being a diary (though the other Tom, the real Tom, she'd have words with), and decides that she'll try to help him get a body.

Great, that's great, Tom says.

But it keeps getting worse.

Tom tries to possess Hermione, but unlike Ginny, Hermione knows that Tom is a dangerous, dark, artifact. If she's suffering negative health effects, losing her memory and ending up in the girl's lavatory, she's going to research this and decide that either a) she's suffering ill effects of using dark magic b) she just got possessed by Tom.

Either way, she tells him she can't use the diary anymore, it's affecting her health and she must research. Well, Hermione researching does Tom no fucking good, but he can't stop her.

The Chamber of Secrets, as a result, is never opened.

Instead, Hermione continues researching, and Harry and Ron... begin to get on her nerves. It's not like last year, there's no Flamel to research, no over-arching mystery, and they seem to be growing tired of her. In turn, Hermione's getting a little tired of quidditch, getting detention, etc.

She's a little tired of Hogwarts, if she's being honest with herself.

Hermione's now had a taste of having a friend who isn't there to simply use her brains. And it's very addicting. She decides not to tell Ron and Harry about Tom, they'd just get needlessly concerned (the irony of this isn't lost on her but what can you do)

In the end, she opens back up the diary, and point blank asks what Tom needs to get a body. Before Tom can tell her, Hermione lists out her own theories. Life cannot be created from nothing, golems and puppets cannot last in the long term, to get a real body... human sacrifice is on the table, isn't it?

Well shit, Tom thinks to himself. He tries to assure Hermione it isn't but ends up confessing that, well, yes, it kind of is.

They have another huge row about it, Hermione slams the diary shut, but the wheels in her brain are spinning.

Does anyone deserve to die?

Hermione, at first, adamantly tells herself the answer is no. No one deserves to be sacrificed. Tom's fate is cruel, but the original Tom made his bed and should lie in it. It's unfortunate, but that's just life. Not the diary's fault, of course, but nothing that can be helped.

But then she keeps thinking about it.

Malfoy struts through the school like a peacock, sneering every time he sees her, laughing every time Snape deducts points from her in Potions for being a 'smarmy know-it-all'. Every time he can get away with it he's shoving her in hallways, calling her a mudblood, and assuring her that she's worth less than the dirt beneath her feet.

She watches as Malfoy torments and bullies Harry, she looks at Draco's father, and she asks herself if the world would really be so much worse off if Draco Malfoy were to disappear?

Draco Malfoy's being groomed to use dark magic, he practically brags about it at every opportunity, why is his life worth more than Tom Riddle's, someone who has paid the price for dark magic?

Isn't Hermione, in a roundabout way, only giving Draco what he deserves? The fate he'd meet at some point in the not so distant future?

Draco does something phenomenally cruel and stupid to the trio, likely to Harry, and that settles it. Hermione's going to murder that motherfucker and get Tom Riddle a body.

Hermione tells Tom the plan, she's passing off the diary to Draco, she has her full blessing, her permission, and whatever help he requires from her to eat Draco Malfoy alive.

Tom is unwillingly impressed, he was a vicious gremlin as a twelve-year-old, but even he wasn't committing murder in cold blood.

Tom's not sure how he feels about murdering a Malfoy, that's bound to get noticed, but Hermione's unyielding. Draco Malfoy, or Hermione goes to Dumbledore.

So, Draco Malfoy it is.

The rest of the year is spent with Tom Riddle murdering Draco Malfoy and coming up with some excuse for his disappearance. The chamber isn't opened as Hermione reminds Tom that this would make it entirely too obvious who is behind this. Instead, Tom likely has Draco partake in increasingly erratic schemes to humiliate Harry Potter that end up endangering himself.

Near the end of school, Draco disappears into the Forbidden Forest to find acromantulas to put in Potter's bed and... never comes back.

A huge search is put on, Draco Malfoy is never found, and the acromantula infestation in the forest is now actively battled by ministry employees. Dumbledore is sacked as headmaster, Hagrid fired for having been responsible for the acromantulas in the first place, and Hogwarts is closed the following year.

Hermione is... conflicted about all of this. She certainly didn't mean to fire Hagrid (had no idea he was even remotely involved with the acromantulas) and certainly not Dumbledore. It wasn't Dumbledore's fault at all.

Tom, who is now a free man but has no idea what to do with himself, meets up with Hermione and points out that Dumbledore should have been sacked ages ago: he let kids get away with this stupidly dangerous shit and the year before actively endangered his students and lured a dark wizard into the castle. As for Hagrid, he raised a dragon illegally on school grounds, did release his pet acromantula into the wild, and more. They were terrible at their jobs.

Hermione, ever so reluctantly, agrees.

It's too bad though, Hagrid was very nice and Dumbledore's a great wizard (don't even get Tom started).

As for Tom, well, he had such dreams. Of course he planned to either meet up with his glorious self or (upon learning that Voldemort was blown up by a toddler) take the mantle of Voldemort for himself. But now that he's out, he has no idea where to start. Murder Harry Potter, certainly, but after that?

Tom only has the vaguest idea of who the original Death Eaters were, and they seem to have effectively scattered. More, how does he go about this? Sure, Tom had ideas when he was in school, but they were just ideas. He's never led a revolution before, has no idea how to impersonate an older, more knowledgeable, version of himself. He barely understands the political climate in this new, post-Voldemort, Britain.

Tom keeps hanging around Hermione because, well, inertia. He has no idea what else to do. (Hermione, while still torn over the consequences of her actions as well as the distant thought that she enabled murder, is quite delighted to have him around).

Tom tries to wheedle Harry's address out of Hermione and gets a lot more information than he bargained for. Harry lives with abusive muggle relatives, Dumbledore is apparently keeping him there, all of this sounds bizarre. Tom is officially weirded out.

Still wants to murder Harry, of course, but also wants to dig into this a little further...

And before this becomes a full on fic outline, eventually this will lead to the murder of Dumbledore, probably the murder of Ron when Ron inadvertently discovers 'the truth', Hermione telling Tom they're now an item, Tom trying to escape the relationship, only to learn there's no escaping Hermione.

Hermione becomes the next dark lord. Tom has no idea how this even happened.

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.

> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.

  “ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

   ‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”

a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem. 

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”

     The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.

  “Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.

  “Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.

  “You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.

  “John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.

  “Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.

   You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.

  “Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.

  “Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”

  “Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”

  “It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.

  “Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.

  “Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.

  “You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.

  After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.

  “Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”

  “Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.

  “I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.

  “Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”

  You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

  “Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.

  The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

  You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.

  Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.

  You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.

  You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.

  Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.

  Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.

  Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.  

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

  He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.

  “C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”

  The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.

  “Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”

  “Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.

  The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.

  “We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.

  “Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.

  “I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.

  “I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.

  To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.

  On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.

  “Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.

  “You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.  

  “Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.

  “You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.

  “Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”

  “As in bi-curious?”

  “Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.

  When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.

    ||\\

  It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.

  She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV.  “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”

  “Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

  “Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.

  It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.

  The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.

  Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.

  “Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.

  “Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

  “C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

  “Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”

  You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.

  “Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.

  “Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.

  “Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.

  Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.

Okay, think.

  Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.

  “Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.

  He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.

  “He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.

  “None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”

  When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.

  “Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.

  “You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”

  Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

  “Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”

  He’s lying. You can tell.

  “Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.

  “Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”

  He’s angry.

  You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.

  “Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”

  He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.

  “Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”

  As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.

  Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.

   Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.

  The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.

  “Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

  “Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

  You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.    

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

  You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.

  “I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”

  “Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”

  He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.

  Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.

  “Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.

  “Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.

  “It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”

  He nodded. ���See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.

  “Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

  “I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.

  “Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”

  “Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”

  “Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“

   She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

     You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.

  At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.

  “Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.

  “You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.

  “It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.

  “I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.

  “Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”

  “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”

  “Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”

  “I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.

  “Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.

  Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.

  As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.

  You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-

  “Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”

  “What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

  “Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.

  “Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

  “Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.

  “You’re bossy today.”

  You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.

  “Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.

  “I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.  

  All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”

  “Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.

  “I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.

  “Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

  “Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

  “Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”

  “I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.

  “I parked on a different spot,” he responded.

  “Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”

  “Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.

  “I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.

        ||\\

  You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.

  “I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.

  “I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

  “Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”

  “I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”

  “How can you even say that?” he barked.

  “Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.

  He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“

  “Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.

  “Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.

  “It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”

  “I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.

||\\

   A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it. 

   And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close. 

   Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together.  You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.

  “How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

   He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.

  “I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.

  “You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

  “That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”

  You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”

  “It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.

  “You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.

  “It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”

  “Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”

  He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

 “Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

  “I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

  “Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-

  Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.

  As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.

  Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

  She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.

  “Last time you said that…”

  “I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

  “Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.

  He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.

  “Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.

  “Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.

  “You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.

  “Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.

  “Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.

  “I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.

  Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

  “What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.

  I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.

||\\

     You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.

  But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.

  “Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.

  “Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.

  “I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.

  He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.

  “I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”

  “So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.

  “I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.

  “Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”

   He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.

  “Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant. 

  “Yes?”

  “Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly. 

  That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.

  “For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”

   By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.

  “That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.

  “What about you?”

  “Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”

  “But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”

  “That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.

  Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.  

  You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.

  He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.

   Well, shit.

  He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.

  You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.

  You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.

  “You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath.  You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.

  You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”

  “Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

  “What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.

  “We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

  “Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.

  You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.

  “Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”

  “Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”

  ||\\

  He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.

  He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.

  He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.

  So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.

 ||\\

    “What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”

  Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.

  You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.

  “We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

  “What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”

  “Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”

  “Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.

  “Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

  “Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.

  As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.

  “Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.

  “Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”

  He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“

  Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.

  “Yoongi, what-“

  “Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.

  No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.

  At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.

  “Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.

   Brother?

  “How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.

  “Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”

  “Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

  “People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.

  “I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.

  “Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”

  “I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.

  “Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”

  “Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

  “It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.

  Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“

  “Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”

  “Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.

  Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”

  “Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”

  Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.    

  There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.

  “How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.

  He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.

  “I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”

  “What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.

  “Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.

  This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

  “Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

  You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.  

  “Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.

   ||\\

                                                       “Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

     It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…

  No. He promised.

  You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.

  Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.

  Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.

  You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.

  “Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.

  “When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”

  “I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

  “Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.

  He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.

  “I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”

  “What, now? Y/N-“

  “I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly

  Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”

  He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.

  Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.

  You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.

  You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

  “Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”

  He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.

  “Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”

  Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

  As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.

  “Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.

  “No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.

  When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.

  Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.

 ||\\

    The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.

  During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.

  “Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

  The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.

  “Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”

  “Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.

  “It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”

  “You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”

  You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.

  “It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.

  Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.

  Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.

  Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.

  “Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.

  You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…

  “Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”

  You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.

  “So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.

  “Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.

  “I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.

  “Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.

  “I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.

  “Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.

  “Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

  Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.

  “H-How come?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”

  You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”

  “Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.

  “That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  “Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

  “I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.

  You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.

  “Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”

  Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”

  “If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”

  He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.

  “Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.

  “Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

  “Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”

  “Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.

  “Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.

  That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.

  Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

  “No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.

  “Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.

  “No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.

  He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.

  “You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.

  You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.

  “I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”

  You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.

  Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.

  Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

  During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.

  You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.

  “Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.

  “She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.

  As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.

  “Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”

  All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.

  “Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.

  “We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.

  “Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.

  “Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.

  “Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”

  “I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”

  “Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.

  “I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.

  “Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

  Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.

  You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.

  “Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.

  “Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”

  “Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”

  “Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”

  “Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”

  “Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”

  “What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

  His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.

  “Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.

  “Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

  He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.

  “Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.

  “That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”

  His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

  He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”

  “Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”

  He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.

  “Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

  “I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”

  A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.

  “Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.

  “Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”

  “My place.”

  Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

  “Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.

  The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.  

  Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.

  He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.

  “Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”

  He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

  “Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.

  You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.

  “Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”

  Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.

  “Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

  His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

  “When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.

  “A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.

  “Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.  

  “How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

  It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.

  “Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

  “I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”

  “We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

  “Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“

  “You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.

  “Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”

  “I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”

  “Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”

  “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”

  “If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”

  His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.

  “I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”

  “Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

  “Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

  He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

  “I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”

  He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”

  You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

  “Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”

  “Not even then.”

  “How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

  The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.

  “Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.

  Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.

  Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.

  Alright. Great.

  As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.

  Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.

  “It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”

  You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.

  “I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.

  “Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.

  “It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”

  Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated  guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.

  “Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”

  You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.

  “Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”

  You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.

  “It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.

  “This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“

  “Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.

  It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.

  Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.

  “How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to �� quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.

  His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.

  “Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.

  As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.

  “Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”

  “Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?

  “Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.

  “Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”

  “B-But the protocol-“

  “Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”

   He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”

  “That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.

  “If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.

  “Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.

  Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.

  “I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.

  “W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

  Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.

  “Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.

  He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.

  “You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”

  “An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”

  “You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”

  Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”

  “My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

  “It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”

  “So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.

  “Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”

  “So you rebelled?”

  “No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

  “It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”

  “I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”

  “Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”

  “Because of the devil, right?”

  “Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.

   Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.

   When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.

  Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”

   You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.

  “I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”

  “But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”

  “Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”

  “I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.

  All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

  “Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”

  “No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”

  “Then why?”

  “Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”

  You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.

  “You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

      There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.

  “I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.

  “I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

  “Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”

  “I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”

  “Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Okay.”

  The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.

  Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?

  You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

  Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

  Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.  

  Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.

  “Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.

  “Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”

  “It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”

  By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.

  “I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”

  His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.

  “You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.

  “Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”

  That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

  “Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.

  “Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”

  Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

  “It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

  “Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”

  While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?

  When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.

  “Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”

  By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.

  “Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”

  “Can we go home, please?”

 The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.

  “Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.

  You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.

[youamongthemelissas]

hi mwah <3

may i have a scenario with zoro being a brat who doesn't want to go down on his girl, but she just puts in his place by sitting on his face? 👀

ara ara, it seems that the fifteen hours I've been sleeping have made me reap the rewards uwu

well, I really hope you like the result and that those 3,3k words make up for the delay in my writer's block. i've only reviewed it a few times because i'm really really sleepy right now, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes! :(

warning: oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, face sitting, etc. only for +18. smut everywhere

Zoro and I had known each other for almost two years, but he changed his position from hookup to boyfriend two months ago. Our chaotic relationship started at a horrible party. Everything that night was horrible, except when the handsome guy approached me offering his help when some ramshackle human being spilled water on my shirt. To complete my disaster, the outfit I wore was white and cotton, so it marked the contours of my breasts just right. Damn day I decided to leave my house without wearing a bra. Too embarrassed, I just crawled into the bathroom – which didn't even have a lock – and waited for the crowd to dwindle or for my shirt to dry so I could get out of that unhealthy place. But fate didn't have the best plans for me, as I saw the bathroom door open and a man enter that cubicle.

"This is the ladies' wc, you know?" I informed the guy angrily.

“I know,” he replied simply. "I saw the whole scene, so I decided to come make sure you're okay."

I arched my brow and stared at him with half-closed eyes. Was he feeling okay? I looked for signs of drunkenness in him, but his voice was steady and he looked too sober.

“Very nice of you, but you can't just lock yourself together with a strange woman in a cubicle. You know, I can interpret this as sexual harassment!” I snapped.

“Oh, fine. I was going to lend you my shirt so you could wear it and wouldn’t have to wait for yours to dry, but I see you don't need my help. Bye and sorry for the inconvenience,” and so he left, not giving me a chance to respond.

I cursed the Universe, but then I stopped myself because a tarot reader had informed me that a situation like this could happen throughout the week and I didn't listen. In the end, it was my fault for being a stubborn and skeptical one.

I really couldn't tell how long I was locked in that fetid cubicle, but when my t-shirt dried enough not to leave me practically naked from the waist up, I walked out and saw the same guy as before, he was talking to a red haired girl, actually it looked more like an argument was going on between them by his annoyed expression and her restless gestures. Would she be his girlfriend? Was the discussion focused on me and the bathroom incident? Well, I wouldn't stay there to find out and risk getting hit by the girl for something that wasn't my fault. He was the one who entered the ladies' room with an unknown woman!

And my disastrous night ended when I lay in my bed and turned off the light to finally sleep and erase all memories of the party from my head. But that boy's face has not left my mind.

The days followed normally, and when I was already forgetting the cool guy, I saw him for the second time in a bakery. He wore the same shirt that day of the party and sweatpants. His sleepy face gave away that he had just woken up and had just left the house to go buy bread for breakfast. He saw me but pretended not to. I got the feeling I should have apologized for the misunderstanding, but he was already making the request. Luckily, we were assisted together as soon a second attendant appeared who assisted me as well.

As soon as we paid the bill, we silently left the place and I got a chance to talk to him as we were heading in the same direction.

“Hey,” I called him, being ignored. "Boy, wait a minute"

“What is it, girl?”, he snapped at me sharply.

“I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding… Seriously, I was just freaked out by a guy walking me into the bathroom…”, I was sincere.

"It's all right. Go on with your life in peace.”

“And you had a girlfriend, right? Like, you were still wrong in the end…” I couldn't hold my mouth before needling him.

This time he stopped abruptly and turned to me, making me smack my face into his chest.

"Girlfriend? First you accuse me of sexual harassment and now besides being a harasser you think I'm a traitor?”

“I didn't accuse you of anything! Except the girlfriend part. You and that red haired girl seemed to be fighting really bad, like boyfriends do,” I clarified.

“Redhead girl?” he seemed to search his memory for what I was referring to. “Nami? God forbid me dating that devil woman! She's not my girlfriend, and we were fighting because…”, he stopped mid-explanation. “This is none of your business, girl. But she's not my girlfriend,” he ended the pseudo-argument.

I nodded and went on my way.

“How long will you follow me? Now I can interpret that you're a deranged stalker”, he told me right after we turned down the same street, after walking close for a few meters.

“I'm not following you, my house is on this way”, I replied.

And that's how I found out that we lived in the same condominium.

Although I clearly remember the first two times we met, I can't say when exactly we started to change our cat-and-mouse relationship and elevate it to a more intimate one. Maybe it was when he fucked me for the first time in the laundry room in the building. I was taking my clothes out of the machine while he put his clothes in another one, and then we looked at each other and as if we had the same idea, he grabbed me around the waist and lifted me up to put me sitting on top of the machine he had just finished stuffing with his own clothes, putting it to work and taking me in a kiss while taking off my panties. When he entered me, I moaned loudly, but the sound was drowned out by the shrill noise of that old machine. Zoro confessed to me later that he chose precisely that one so my moans could not be heard. I think it was the most insane thing I did, because at any moment someone could come and catch us, but luckily for us that only happened after Zoro had cum on my thighs and taken me off that old thing. It was weird walking with my legs sticking together because of his cum, but I didn't have time to clean up, just lift my panties and straighten my skirt before passing the newcomer, who didn't seem to have noticed our presence.

After our first sex, we didn't get apart anymore. We couldn't be alone as we caught fire and had sex wherever we were.

As time went by, we calmed down and our meetings became more spaced, but our chemistry didn't extinguish even a little bit during these almost two years, on the contrary, it only earned us the beginning of dating. And we became more than just hookups, we became friends too, those who know about each other's lives and I got to know Nami, the red-haired friend he was fighting that night at the party. I came to discover that they could never be boyfriends, because she loved money and women.

Everything with Zoro was almost perfect. He was a good boyfriend, and even though we're two hotheads, we never fought. There are always dialogues in our relationship and this helps a lot to avoid unnecessary fights. Besides, sex is wonderful, everything just right, except for one small thing that bothers me. We combine a lot in bed, I always try to please him and give him pleasure at all times. I've lost count of how many blowjobs I gave him and how many times I let him cum in my mouth, but the problem is that he never even gave me oral sex. And that makes me a little frustrated and scared. Was the problem with me? I took good care of myself, but he always shifted position when I tried to get him down on me.

One day, while I watched him playing his favorite game, I stroked his hair.

“Babe?”, I called him.

“Hm?” he mutters, not moving an inch.

“Do I disgust you?” I asked bluntly.

"What? Where did you get this ideia?”, he turns abruptly to face me, doing something wrong in the game because soon there are some curses directed at him in the chat.

“It's just a question.” I shrugged.

“It can't be just a question. For you to ask me that, there's definitely a reason behind it,” he replied, no longer looking at the TV screen, and not realizing that he was being offended by the other players. Damn virgins.

“Nevermind…”, I hesitated, unable to let myself be affected by the comments, which weren't even for me. "Your game friends are very angry with you."

"Fuck them, the issue here is you.", he held my face with both hands, making me look at him. “Tell me what made you think about it,” he looks deep into my eyes, almost reading my soul and I immediately regret opening my mouth. But it was too late, lying was out of the question, because he knows very well when I lie, so I had no choice but to tell the truth.

“You never gave me an oral. So I deduced that the problem is with me”, I said at last and he let me go.

It was his turn to shift the focus to another corner.

“It's nothing to you, it's me who is the problem. I've never done that to any women, and in the movies I see them “squirt”, what if that happens?” He looked a little frustrated and embarrassed.

I got up from my seat and stopped standing in front of him, making him glare at me.

“You have to stop thinking real life is a big porn movie, Roronoa,” I said, putting my index finger on his forehead. “I really admire you knowing how to fuck without looking like a caveman”, I said that last sentence more to myself.

“Hey!” he heard and seemed offended. "It hurts, okay?"

“Sorry, but that is nothing but the truth”, I rolled my eyes.

Even though he didn't suck me when we had sex later, the seed of doubt was already planted in his head.

I know this, because days later he was more committed to making me cum. Before he seemed to care only about his pleasure, but after our conversation, he even put his fingers to work on my clit – which were presented by me –, as he moved in and out of me, until I came on his fingers. It felt good, but I wanted to feel his tongue down there, and wanted to see his head between my legs. I wanted so badly to squirm in pleasure beneath him as he sucked everything I had to offer him.

When the dream day finally arrived, all my thoughts turned opaque as I felt him hug me from behind and lean his body against mine as his lips found the skin of my neck.

“Do you know how hot you look wearing my shirt?” he asked huskily, pressing me closer to his body, making my ass fit into his crotch. And I already felt it was hard. "Even more so I know you're not wearing anything under it."

I couldn't hold back the moan as I felt his fingers travel up my waist until they reached my breasts under the fabric. He squeezed it first and then circled the nipple with his finger, making it hard. He knew how sensitive I was in that area. And to my delight, he lowered his other hand to between my legs, and slid it to find my sex, which was already starting to get wet.

When I was in his apartment, I liked to have just one piece of clothing. Walking around his house half-naked was one of the most satisfying things for me, because I knew that anytime we were going to get laid and being too undressed would get in the way of the process. So I opted to wear just a pair of panties or a T-shirt with nothing underneath, as was the case now.

He removed his hand from my body and pulled me away, but only to pick me up and take me to his bed, where he laid me down and leaned over me and started kissing me.

His kiss tasted like the whiskey he drank a few minutes ago. I ran my hands over his body and scratched him lightly on his back, inside his shirt. He ended the kiss and rolled off of me, but only to undress. I watched the scene intently, looking at each piece of skin that was revealed to me little by little. When he took off his underwear and his cock popped out, I felt my mouth water. He was there in front of me, completely naked.

I got rid of his t-shirt I was wearing and crawled until I was close to his body, took his hard member in my hands and started masturbating before putting it in my mouth. Unconsciously, I reared my hips up, and ran my tongue over the glans, tasting the pre-cum. Without waiting, I felt him lean over to smack my ass, and it made his cock almost hit my throat, making me gasp. I pulled it out of my mouth, gasping for air, but went back to sucking on it. When I relaxed, I put him in one piece and this time I got used to that intruder so deep, and I heard him grunt. He loved when I swallowed him like that, but before I could make him cum, he gently withdrew from my mouth and lay down on the bed, turning me to stand beside him.

He kissed me again and wrapped his hands around my waist and slid them to my ass, where he slapped my ass, making me moan into his mouth.

We made out until he was on top of me, making me feel his hard cock on my thigh as he kissed my neck and played with my nipples.

I was already throbbing with lust, and it got worse when he slid his fingers to my clit and touched his fingertip to that sensitive spot, making me arch into him. But he did nothing but tease me, and I wanted him to use his tongue this time to bring me to orgasm. For that reason, I forced his head down and he got the message, surprisingly trailing kisses down my body, but before he got there he stopped and returned the kisses to where they were before, leaving me frustrated.

I sighed in annoyance, and shifted our positions, getting on top of him. I positioned myself right on top of his cock, and I fit my pussy there, not to slide him inside, but to rub myself there. He liked my boldness a lot, but I abruptly left the place until I was positioned right in his mouth. I felt him startle under me, but it was too late because I was already sitting pretty well in his face, with my cunt snug in the place where I always wished it was. He showed no resistance, just ran the tip of his tongue over my clit and I closed my eyes, sighing.

At first, he was stuck and a little lost, but little by little he got used to it and now his whole tongue passed through my intimacy, sometimes sucking painfully. It was good for me and it was good for him too, because I felt him grip my thighs tightly, holding me in place as he penetrated me with his tongue. I saw stars. When he smeared the entire place and when my body showed signs of the first orgasm, nimbly and using a little force he took me off him and put me back on the bed, with my back to the mattress. I thought he had given up, but he again slid down my body and positioned himself between my legs, giving me that wonderful sight. Again he pressed his tongue against my clit.

Seeing him there, with his head buried in the place I'd always dreamed of, made a fire burn in my stomach, and my brain worked tirelessly on the new sensations his mouth was gaving me me.

And he looked very committed and thirsty. He was like someone who had gone days without even a drop of liquid and who had just found an inexhaustible source of pure water. And I was that source. And just the thought of having him thirsty for me was enough to give my boner more ammo and make my hips start working nimbly, looking for more contact. Zoro shaved every day, but there were already two that he didn't shave, so the growing hairs scraped the inside of my thighs when I moved my hips, leaving goose bumps.

His tongue explored every corner of my intimacy and his arms closed tightly around my legs as he brought one hand to one of my breasts and rested it there, squeezing every now and then as my body showed signs of orgasm.

He didn't let go of me when I came for the first time or when I screamed for the second. Instead, he circled my waist with his arms and held me immobile in place as he sipped every drop that dared escape from me. He showed no signs of satiating even when I scratched his shoulders or slapped him in the arms to get him to let go. In fact, it felt like it was just an extra boost for him when I was on the verge of madness, writhing in his mouth and thrashing around aimlessly for support and control of the spasms in my body.

He was both a sadist and a masochist at the same time, which is why I was so attracted to him.

When he released me, I was almost voiceless and completely shaky. I wouldn't be able to form an intelligible word, and his playful smile, which I saw blurred due to the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes, gave away his satisfaction at seeing me in that state.

When I finally composed myself and my heart stopped beating in my chest, pulse, and throat, I took a deep breath and stared at him. He was lying beside me, looking at me and running his hand down my face, lovingly.

“You look beautiful when you're coming”, was the first thing he said.

“You look handsome between my legs”, I returned the answer in the same tone.

He smiled and massaged his jaw, as if in pain.

“Too bad it takes so long to cum, my chin hurts”, he complained and I rolled my eyes.

“You didn't leave me after my first orgasm,” I accused. “For those who were afraid of giving me oral sex, you seemed to enjoy it a lot”, I continued, with a pout.

“I had no idea you were that tasty,” he said, smiling slightly. “Now you better get ready, because your taste has gone straight to the top of my favorite flavors”, he assured me, as he pulled me by the waist to glue my body to his.

I kissed his lips softly, and touched our foreheads, and he kissed me again, obscenely. It didn't take me long to be on my knees for him, determined to reward him for the multiple organs he gave me.

Seeing him from above, with his eyes closed and his expression filled with pure delight, made me want to feel his cock in the back of my throat to the point of gasping for air. But he refused to cum inside my mouth. He lifted me up and positioned me on all fours on the bed and placed the condom on his cock.

When he sank into me, I moaned loudly, too happy that my sex life with my boyfriend was perfect.

[fanmoose12]

Have you ever done like a high school aged au except Levi and Hanji are penpals?

so levihan here aren't exacty penpals and it's a high school!au, but this idea has been living in my head ever since i received your ask so i hope you enjoy this fic, anon, because i dedicate it to you <333

As cliche as it sounded, but Hange never thought that her life was gonna be this way.

When she finished her journalistic degree, when she graduated from university on top of the class, everyone kept saying, "A bright future is ahead of you, Zoe. The whole world is at your fingertips..."

And Hange had believed them, Hange had expected it too. Uncovering the truth, saving people with the might of her words, making the world a better place one article at a time. Hange couldn't wait to get started and make her dream come true.

And then...

And then every serious newspaper turned her application down, not ready to give a chance for someone with a lot of skills and even more brains, but not enough experience, and then her pride got in the way, and so she didn't wish to settle for some local, small newspaper, refusing to waste her degree and years of hard work on some mediocrity.

And now, here she is - working as an advice columnist for Sina's Gossip.

Not a place Hange ever thought she'd end up at. Not a place she would have ended up at, if she had a choice. But she didn't have that choice, had taken it away herself when she refused offers from more respectable newspapers and didn't get a job at the place she had aimed for.

The magazine isn’t large, small enough for Hange not to know about it at all prior to receiving the job offer. She wouldn't have looked at that job offer twice, would have dismissed it immediately after seeing the name Sina's Gossip written on top, but as chance had it, she scrolled through the letter and saw the name at the end.

Erwin Smith.

The Erwin Smith, a local star who had disappeared from public eye some years ago. And now Hange knew where he had gone to.

He was only in his thirties, and already made a name for himself after he uncovered a conspiracy at the local pharmaceutical company. Just like Hange, perhaps even more so, he had a bright future ahead of him. But suddenly he quitted his job and founded his own magazine.

Hange would be lying if she said she wasn't at the very least a little bit intrigued at Erwin's sudden change of course.

That's why she agreed to a meeting with him. And that was her mistake.

Because Erwin turned out to be handsome, intelligent and charming to the point of ridiculousness. He smiled, spoke a few flattering words and next Monday Hange was already on her way to Sina's Gossip, where she started off as a mere copy editor.

It's been three years since that fated meeting, and Hange is still here, now promoted to an advice columnist. And, despite it not being what she dreamed of, despite working at a gossip magazine she used to despise... She likes it here.

She likes the people she works with, and she likes people she works for.

The letters people send her, asking for an advice or sharing their grievances, Hange likes them too. Enjoys reading them again and again, mulling over each word, looking at presented problem from each angle and doing her best to come up with the best advice possible.

Perhaps it's a simple wishful thinking or whispers of an ego she still hasn't lost, but Hange likes to think she helps these people. Solves their problems, guides them through trying times. Or brightens their day, at least.

She's not saving the world like she dreamt of, but she's making it a better place - or strives to, at least. Sometimes people she helped write her again, thanking for kind and wise words. Hange takes huge pride in that. The job pays well, enough for her to rent a small apartment and live comfortably, but it's these sincere words of gratitude that she treasures the most.

And what makes her hold onto her position in Sina's Gossip even more is the people that work alongside her. Erwin is a kind, if a little dorky man. And he gathered a team of similar people. They're all experts in their respective fields too, Erwin went through great lengths to get them all aboard.

When Hange just started working, the prospect of meeting new people made her more than a little bit nervous. As much as she liked other people and enjoyed getting to know them, getting along, truly belonging somewhere was always a problem for her. Too loud and too weird, she was usually an outcast.

But not at Sina's Gossips.

There, almost right from the beginning, ever since she walked through the glass sliding doors and met a tall man who started sniffing her, she knew she would feel right at home.

In the end, she wasn't wrong. The employees of Sina's Gossips became colleagues, then friends and then family.

She loves them all, even the grumpy midget who opens the door to her office without knocking, his face showing no ounce of friendliness or joy.

But— he's holding a cup of coffee in his hands, and even if Hange were truly annoyed, she'd forgive him just for that.

"Four-eyes," he says, a greeting and complaint at the same time. Hange lets it slide too. Levi hands her the paper cup with coffee, and it's still hot, almost burning her fingers. Lifting the cup to her lips proves that the coffee is black with three sugars, just as Hange always takes it. For that, she's ready forgive Levi any possible sin. "Are you neglecting your work once again?"

"No," that is an offence worth pouting, and Hange does exactly that. She wasn't neglecting anything, how could he even think about it. She's just been staring in the distance for... Hange glances at the clock on her computer screen... For almost ten minutes now.

Alright, maybe, Levi wasn’t completely wrong about that one. Not that Hange will ever admit it to him.

“Did you check the letters I send to you then?”

Hange blinks, a little startled. Letters? It’s the letters day already?

Another quick glance to her computer screen tells her that yes, it’s Tuesday and the letters day already.

Levi takes a seat at the other side of her desk with an irritated grumble. “I sent them to you last night, you ass.”

Hange snickers at the profanity. For an editor, Levi possesses a surprisingly foul mouth.

“I’m checking them now,” she bites her lip, opening the mail. Right beneath advertisements and notifications from her social media, there is a letter from Levi, just as he said there would be. Hange opens it, downloading the archive. As soon as she clicks on it, her eyes light up in anticipation. She starts scrolling down, swiftly going over each letter.

A father who doesn’t know what to give his estranged son for his tenth birthday…

A woman who is worried that her sister is dating a gangster…

A strange man who lost his pet lobster…

A teenage girl who isn’t sure what she wants more – to move to another city to the university of her dreams or stay at her hometown with her best friend and boyfriend…

Hange greedily drinks in every word, hurrying to get to the bottom. What if there is a letter from him…

Levi interrupts her by kicking her leg under the desk.

“I’m glad you finally decided to pay attention to your work,” he pauses, his scowl deepening. In her head, Hange finishes his sentence for him – but now, I want you to pay attention to me. God, Levi is just the cutest. So endearing and precious, and he tries to hide it so hard. Nothing gets past Hange, though. “But I didn’t come here to stare at your deranged smile.”

Obediently, Hange shifts her gaze from a screen to Levi, staring at him with a hand beneath her chin. “Why did come here then?”

“You have a meeting this Friday, remember?”

A meeting, meeting… It takes Hange a long moment to catch up with what Levi is talking about.

“A meeting!” she yells, when it dawns on her at last. She snaps her fingers, grinning at Levi. “Of course, a meeting, with that guy from, mm…” she frowns, tapping her forehead. “From Monkey Island?”

“Money Island,” Levi corrects, but he does so with a hoarse chuckle, and Hange mentally pats herself on a back.

After all, who doesn’t enjoy making their attractive co-workers laugh? Especially if they’re just as broody as Levi?

“Do you remember his name at least?”

“Zeke Yeager, right?”

“Right,” Levi nods, and it could be Hange’s imagination, but his face becomes just a little darker, and his voice just a little gruffer.

Hange’s senses start tingling…

“Do you know each other?”

And, yep, there it is – Levi purses his lips, turning his head to the side to mutter a quiet curse. “We’ve graduated from the same university.”

In what world that is a reason enough for such apparent dislike? Hange longs to know more, find out every possible detail.

Levi sees that desire reflect on her face, and sighs. “He’s an asshole,” he reveals. “Who loves his asshole little brother.”

It doesn’t explain much anyway, but Hange feels like it’s the best she can get out of Levi. She decides to surrender and quell her curiosity, just this once.

“This is the only reason why you came? To remind me about the meeting? I have an assistant for that, Levi.”

Lifting his thin eyebrow, Levi gives her a long look. Hange struggles not to fidget under it. What has gotten into him?

“You really don’t remember,” Levi shakes his head, his disappointment more than transparent. “Four-eyes, Berner is on a sick leave. Had been for three days already.”

Oh, right… that’s why no one answered when she yelled a greeting upon entering the office. That’s why she forgot about the letters day. And that’s why she was staring in the distance for almost ten minutes.

She awkwardly giggles, rubbing her neck. “It just slipped my mind.”

“Lots of things do,” Levi rolls his eyes. “Don’t forget about meeting with Yeager, though. He’s an asshole but—”

“But an important man,” Hange finishes for him. She knows that, can hardly forget about that, since Erwin is so adamant at reminding her every time they cross paths at the office. “I know, I know, that interview is important just as that Zeke is. It can make our magazine more popular and blah, blah, blah.”

“Not only our magazine,” Levi sharply retorts. “It’s a chance for you too, Hange. Don’t ruin it.”

There is an uncharacteristic intensity in his voice, one that turns Hange speechless.

It’s a surprise that Levi knows about her ambitions at all, of course, she told him same as she told practically every person she came across. One day, I’ll show you, I’ll show you all just how great I can be. But it’s a surprise Levi not only knows, but remembers about it. It’s a surprise that he seems to care whether she truly achieves her dreams or not.

“Do you wish to come with me?”

It tumbles out of her lips without a second thought. But just as her mouth starts moving, Hange realizes that she truly wants it, wants to have Levi there with her. As a moral support, if nothing more.

Levi doesn’t answer her right away. His eyes narrow, as he mulls it over with his hand on his chin.

“Zeke doesn’t like me,” he mutters. “I will only make it worse.”

“Or you will make it better,” Hange winks, pressing her elbows into the desk to lean closer to Levi. Now that she knows what she wants, she doesn’t hesitate to apply a bit of pressure. “Maybe, he secretly likes you.”

Levi scoffs, crossing hands on his chest. “I doubt it.”

Despite his curt answer, Hange knows that she is close. Levi is almost ready to break. To ensure that, she decides to play a little dirty. “Levi,” she tilts her head and pinches her eyebrows, sticking her bottom lip out. Her puppy eyes aren’t that impressive, not nearly as good as Nanaba’s, but, for some reason, they seem to always work on Levi. “Pretty, pretty please, will you go with me?”

Levi curses, and that’s how Hange knows that she won. “If I end up destroying your whole career, four-eyes,” he points a finger at her. “That’d be your fault.”

“If you ruin my career, that means I’ll stay here with you forever. Won’t that be splendid?”

He doesn’t say anything, but his face seems pensive, thoughtful. Something in Hange’s heart pangs at that.

“Are you going to Nanaba’s place this Sunday?” she asks to change the topic. And distract herself from the strange feeling Levi’s expression provoked.

“No,” Levi answers. Hange grins.

Levi always says no, always tells them that he won’t let them pull him into their shitty shenanigans again, always swears that this is the last time he dragged their drunk asses home.

And yet, he shows up time and time again. He complains, calls them idiots, drunken fools and disgraces to society, but he still shows up. If that’s not a sign of true friendship, Hange doesn’t know what true friendship is.

“Can’t wait to hang out with your broody mien, shorty!” she exclaims, laughing when Levi flips her off. “Don’t forget your gloomy attitude!”

“And don’t you forget about letters I sent to you,” Levi stands up, throwing his paper cup in a trash bin next to Hange’s desk. “You have two days to answer them all.”

“I know, I know,” Hange waves him off. “I don’t need you or Moblit to tell me how to do my job.”

Levi raises an eyebrow at that, looking overly skeptical. “Two days,” he dryly reminds her before leaving her small office.

For a moment more, Hange continues staring after him with a fond smile on her lips.

Back to work, Zoe, she shakes herself and returns her attention to the computer screen. Her mail is still opened there, and Hange scrolls down to the end, searching for a username she hopes will pop out.

Almost near the end, it does, and Hange can’t keep in a quiet squeal of delight.

wings_of_freedom@gmail.com

The username is a bit ridiculous, pompous even, so Hange opts for a shorter and, in her opinion, more accurate one – lover boy.

Every two weeks without a fail, that same user sends Hange a letter, asking for an advice. They all wary in everything, but the subject – a person the lover boy has a crush on.

What do I do to become closer to her, what is the best way to make her smile…

Each and every letter, without a fail, brightens Hange’s day, no matter how shitty it was. The care, affection and love that radiate from these letters melt her heart and strengthen her belief that the world is truly a wonderful place if kind-hearted people like him still live here.

Apparently, romance isn’t quite dead yet.

Gripping the edge of her chair to at least try and conceal her excitement, Hange eagerly opens the letter and starts reading.

Thank you for your last advice, as always, it helped.

We’re growing closer, at least, it feels like we do. However, there is another problem that I hope you can help me with.

Admittedly, I’m not very good with my words. I never know what to say to tell the others how I feel, and sometimes I can come as rough and rather rude. It’s a fault of mine I had ever since childhood, and, truth be told, it never bothered me much.

But with her… it’s a bit different.

She can take a joke, and I know she doesn’t really mind my manner of communicating, but, still, I wish I could show her just how much she truly means to me. Sometimes it seems like she doesn’t quite realize it. Doesn’t really understand just how amazing and wonderful she is.

I know that the subject is not exactly ordinary, but your advices helped in the past, and I believe it will help this time too. Even if it wouldn’t, it’d be interesting to read your opinion on that.

Thank you in advance.

After finishing the letter, Hange starts rereading it, rubbing her forehead in thought. The lover boy is right, the subject isn’t easy at all. The lack of details and context complicates things even further.

A lot of people struggle at communicating what they feel, and it’s especially true about romantic feelings. But different people struggle in different ways.

Someone like Moblit, for example, is open enough with his affection, but he’d stutter to death sooner than confess to someone.

Someone like Erwin can charm pretty much anyone. His carefully crafted words and easy, handsome smile do all the job for him, but his words are crafted just a little too carefully and his smiles come a little too easily, and, as a result, he only rarely comes off as truly sincere.

And then there is Levi, whose walls are higher than skyscrapers and mightier than a fortress. But once you get past them, once you invest enough time and effort to break them down, you’ll find a gentle, caring man, who just isn’t used to showing his true feelings.

Hange can only guess what type the lover boy is.

Sighing, she decides to leave his letter for now and deal with it after she finishes with the rest. Somehow she feels that finding a lost lobster would be much easier than dealing with that particular dilemma.

***

A couple of busy days, filled with Erwin's warnings - Hange, remember the reputation of our agency rests on your shoulders, Nanaba's cheerful encouragements - you can do it, Hange! you'll charm the guy in no time, I know you will, Mike's horrible jokes - if you can't charm him, just ask Levi to punch him, that might do the trick too, and Moblit's frantic remindings, spoken over the phone in a throaty voice, later Hange and Levi arrive to the café Zeke had chosen for their meeting.

“It looks fancy,” Hange whispers to Levi, eyeing the entrance with a slight pout. “I didn’t know it’d be so fancy.”

“That’s Zeke for you,” Levi grunts. “Fancy asshole.”

“R-right,” suddenly every single precaution Erwin had told her come back, more frightening than ever. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside of the café seems even fancier, and Hange spares a longing look at her attire – an over-sized yellow pullover thrown over a light green plaid shirt with a brown khakis and worn-out converses. It’s not something one would call professional or stylish, not that she owns anything much better… but now Hange wishes she at least combed her hair.

She doesn’t know what Zeke looks like, hasn’t bothered with looking him up, since Levi is accompanying her, but she easily spots him even without Levi’s help.

Just as the café’s entrance, just as its interior, Zeke looks fancy. He’s not overdressed, in his dark green shirt and light cardigan he is all but casual, but damn, he is one of the leading journalists at the magazine called Money Island, and it clearly shows.

Levi wasn’t wrong about the fancy part, but he also failed to mention that Zeke is handsome. Extremely so. Blond and bearded, he is not exactly Hange’s type, but, well… there are exceptions to every rule.

Not just attractive, but, apparently, Zeke is a gentleman too.

He rises from his seat as soon, as he sees Hange, a blinding in its brilliance smile curving his thin lips.

“Hange Zoe,” he greets and eagerly shakes her hand. “I’m so happy you’ve come.”

The smile doesn’t leave his face, doesn’t even diminish, but his eyes narrow ever so slightly, when they land on Hange’s companion.

“I didn’t know you’d bring a friend.”

His voice is friendly, if only a little surprised, but his eyes are colder than they’d been before.

“It’s our editor,” Hange pats Levi’s back. “Levi—”

“We’ve met before,” Zeke’s still showing that same smile, but there is just enough frost in his voice to tell Hange that there is no secret affection between him and Levi.

“I’m glad Hange invited me to trail along. It’s nice to see you again, Zeke.”

Levi doesn’t bother hiding his sarcasm or schooling his expression in something more amicable. Hange rolls her eyes and kicks him as soon as Zeke turns around.

Will it kill you if you try to act a little friendlier? her gaze asks him.

I warned you about this, Levi’s huff answers.

Oh, well. At least, he didn’t call her four-eyes in front of Zeke. Clearly, that’s an improvement.

Hange sighs and sends a quick prayer that this meeting won’t turn into a complete disaster. She sits down in a booth across from Zeke and hopes that her smile will be enough to counter any possible tensions.

“The strawberry cupcakes are exceptionally good here,” Zeke notes, when a waitress bring them menus.

Without looking up from a menu, Hange nods. The prices in this café are much higher than she is comfortable with. She’d never bring her friends here, but, well… Zeke isn’t a friend, so Hange swallows down her discontent and orders herself a coffee with a strawberry cupcake.

She doesn’t even like strawberry cupcakes.

“Let’s start, shall we?” Zeke says after three of them receive their orders.

Hange takes a sip from her coffee – it’s honestly not that good to be so pricey – and tries to look composed and professional.

Truth be told, she doesn’t know why she is here. An interview, Erwin told her, but why would anyone want to interview her? She’s not a celebrity – not an actor or an artist, she’s a journalist, who works for a small, local magazine.

Why would a person like Zeke and a magazine like Money Island be interested in someone like her?

“I’ve prepared a small list of questions…” Zeke takes out his tablet, turning it on. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes,” Hange says, smiling when she feels Levi’s calf press to hers in a silent encouragement.

“So tell me more about yourself – your hobbies, talents outside of work…”

It starts easy like that, and Hange loses herself in her ramblings so much that she doesn’t notice that Zeke isn’t taking any notes.

But after a few trivial questions – what do you like about journalism, what made you choose this career path, what are subjects you’re most passionate about – everything gets just a little bit stranger.

“What are your greatest strengths?” Zeke asks, then follows it with, “What are your greatest weaknesses?”

Where do you see yourself in five years? What’s your dream job? Do you consider yourself successful?

One question after another tumbles out of his lips, and soon Hange realizes.

It’s not a simple interview, it’s a job interview.

A confused look Levi sends her confirms her suspicion.

“Mister Yeager?” Hange calls after a question about how she prefers to be managed.

“Call me Zeke,” he retorts charmingly.

“Zeke,” she forces a smile and hopes it doesn’t look too fake. “I don’t wish to appear rude… but what is the meaning of this? I thought you wanted an interview for your magazine?”

“It’s more for me than Money Island,” Zeke confesses. “I wish to get to know you better.”

Beside her, Levi tenses. Amongst the noise and clutter of the café, Hange can almost hear the sound of his teeth gritting. She doesn’t spare a glance in his direction, too busy gawking at Zeke.

“May I ask…” she clears her throat, feeling too far away from her comfort zone. “…Why?”

“Sina’s Gossips is a fairly small magazine,” Zeke begins, his voice as sugary as a strawberry cupcake before Hange. “But it became ten times more popular after you started working there. Clearly, you have a lot of potential, and something tells me that advice columnist is not your dream position. So I thought you’d be interested in my offer.”

“Your offer?”

“To change your workplace.”

“But I have no experience in the finance area.”

“I’m willing to give you a chance,” Zeke says graciously. “You’ll have to be approved my by superiors first, of course, and then you’ll need to undergo a bit of training...”

Hange can’t help but frown. “I can’t just abandon my previous position like that.”

“I’m not asking you to. Not now, at least.”

“So what exactly it is that you want?”

It’s Levi who asks, and his low, almost menacing voice startles Hange. She turns to look at him, but his face is as guarded and neutral as it always is.

Zeke raises an eyebrow, his expression curious as he studies Levi. But when he shifts his attention back to Hange, the same handsome smile is already plastered on his lips. “I want to offer a collaboration project. We can use your platform to let people ask things, not about their everyday struggles, but to ask you for an advice about their finance related problems. Our magazine can advertise it, and this will help to expand both yours and ours audience. And…” Zeke pauses, lowering his voice just a fraction. “It will give us a chance to see if you’re up to the job at Money Island or not.”

“I…” it’s a lot to take in, and, naturally, Hange struggles to find her own words. That’s why she’s so grateful when Levi decides to step in.

“We have to discuss with our boss first. Then we can give you a definite answer.”

There is an edge to Zeke’s smile that tells Hange exactly what he thinks about Levi’s interruption. However, it disappears instantly, in a blink of an eye. With his features much more relaxed, Zeke waves a waitress over and asks to bring them a bill.

“I’ll be waiting for your answer,” he says as he stands up. “I enjoyed our time together, Hange Zoe. And I know our companionship will bring me just as much pleasure. I hope we’ll keep in touch.”

He leaves after that, but Hange isn’t yet ready to go. She pushes the cupcake around the plate, mulling it over.

“What do you think?” she asks Levi after five minutes of silence.

“What do you think?” he shoots back, and Hange scoffs, kicking him under the table.

“I asked you first.”

Levi doesn’t answer immediately. He stares at her for a long moment, and there is something in his eyes, something Hange can’t quite understand the meaning of. She wants to know, though, almost asks him, but then Levi breaks the eye contact and slumps back in his chair.

“You’ve always wanted to do something more, right? It’s your chance, Hange.”

“And…” she swallows a heavy lump in her throat and briefly wonders where it had come from. Levi is right, that what she always wanted. Then why she is so hesitant to even entertain the idea? “Do you think I should take it?”

“It’s your chance,” Levi repeats.

He stands up and wraps his hand around her elbow to push Hange up too. His touch is too careful, almost gentle, and the confusion inside her continues to grow.

“Let’s go back to work,” he says, and adds in a voice so quiet, Hange almost misses it. “You did well, Hange.”

***

Hange goes to find Erwin as soon as they return to the office. She doesn’t tell him about the second part of Zeke’s offer, about the possibility that she’ll soon leave Sina’s Gossips and all of its employees, and focuses only on their future collaboration. Erwin listens to her frantic retelling with a calm, attentive face. He agrees to Zeke’s offer without much thought.

“That is,” he hastily adds, “if you wish to proceed with it, Hange. I don’t wish to force you, so if it’s not something you’re interested in...”

“No, no,” she shakes her head and hopes that the smile she forces on doesn’t look pained. “I’ll be happy to work on this project.”

Is she truly happy, though? Hange isn’t sure anymore.

***

She spends the whole evening and most hours of night thinking about it.

She goes to the Money Island’s website and reads most of their recent articles. She googles the most prominent employees and reads about them too, every bit of information she can get her hands on.

When the sun is starting to peek out from the horizon, Hange looks up Zeke. She finds out he has his own youtube channel, where he talks – no surprise here – about finance.

Being rich is easy

God, even the name of the channel reeks of arrogance.

But Hange has to admit – Zeke is good at what he’s doing. His pretentious manner of speaking and his apparent habit of scratching his ear is a little irritating, but he talks with confidence and ease that shows just how much knowledge and experience he has.

His videos are engrossing and his articles are, without a doubt, extremely well-written.

Hange likes Zeke, finds him interesting enough, but what he talks and writes about… she can’t help but think that it’s a bit too dull for her taste.

And it’s ironic, it’s foolish, she should be on a cloud nine from the opportunity presented to her. Hange feels like she would have been on a cloud nine… Three years ago.

But now she has a job she loves and people she loves working with. Should she really leave it behind just like that? Can she?

Then again, can she leave behind a dream she nurtured for as long as she could remember? Can she forget about every ambition and desire?

She doesn’t find an answer to that in the evening, it doesn’t come to her during the night.

And Hange can only hope that she’ll be able to answer it when the time comes.

***

But, instead, Saturday comes, and Hange forces these thought out of her head.

She wants to forget about her doubts, and with Nanaba’s fingers in her hair, a bottle of cold beer in her hands and Mike’s deep voice in her ears, forgetting about everything else is surprisingly easy.

They’re at Nanaba’s summer house, gathered around a brightly-lit brazier. Hange is warm, relaxed and content. Mike’s story about some fisherman from his hometown is a little boring, but Nanaba remedies that fault by whispering sarcastic comments to Hange.

When Mike’s thrilling tale is finally over, Erwin clears his throat, attracting everyone’s attention.

“In case some of you didn’t know, Hange had a very peculiar meeting yesterday…”

“Right,” Nanaba’s grin is too wide and gleeful for Hange’s taste, and when Nanaba fixes her eyes on her, Hange involuntarily squirms. “Very peculiar indeed.”

Knowing but not liking where this is going, Hange leaves the warmth of Nanaba’s lap and moves away. This action brings her to Levi’s side, and he tenses, but doesn’t protest which Hange takes as a sign that she can become a little bolder and lean on his shoulder.

Perhaps, he’ll shield her from Nanaba’s curiosity. Although, Hange has to admit that it’s highly unlikely. No one can stop Nanaba if she gets curious about something. Hange always admired that about her. Not now, though.

“So tell us, Hange,” Nanaba slowly begins, her eyes glinting in the light of the fire. Hange takes a quick survey, and confirms that, yep, everyone is looking at her. Apparently, Nanaba is not the only who is curious. “Did you have a good time?”

“Well, Zeke’s offer looks promising, and that project certainly is intriguing…”

“God, leave that boring stuff to Erwin,” Nanaba rolls her eyes.

Mike agrees with her by adding, “Not everyone here is as nerdy as you two.”

“Exactly,” Nanaba nods. “We want to know more about Zeke. Is he handsome?”

Perhaps, it’s the beer or the warm atmosphere or the fact that everyone – including Levi – is looking expectantly at her, but Hange chuckles and says, “Very much so. Not in the way our fearless leader is,” she salutes Erwin with a bottle, enjoying the slight blush that appears on his cheeks. “But he’s still attractive.”

There is pure wickedness in Nanaba’s gaze, when she leans a little closer to Hange and asks, “Is he as handsome as Levi?”

Hange chokes on her beer. Her eyes water as she coughs it out, her throat is sore, but with the help of Levi’s gentle pats, Hange manages to get her breathing back under control.

She glares at Nanaba as soon as she straightens out, but then remembers the stupid question and feels color rise to her face. She can blame it on a coughing fit. Probably. Hopefully.

“It depends on one’s preferences…” she mumbles, hating how weak her voice sounds.

Nanaba is merciless, though. “What’s your opinion then?”

It takes Hange more than a moment to gather enough courage to sneak a glance at Levi. Their eyes meet, but for no more than a heartbeat. Levi looks away instantly, his hands clenching into fists.

Hange decides to be honest then. Her gaze still fixed to Levi, she murmurs, “No, Zeke is nearly not as handsome as Levi.”

Nanaba coos, Mike guffaws and Erwin simply smiles, like that is exactly the kind of answer he expected.

Levi doesn’t react at all, but Hange is still pressed against him and so she feels – he relaxes considerably.

Hange relaxes too, and moving closer to his ear, she whispers, “Hey, help me get revenge on Nanaba.”

The look in Levi’s eyes is positively evil, wicked enough to send a shiver down a spine. Hange feels that shiver acutely, but… not because it scares her. Truthfully, it has a diametrically opposite effect on her.

“With great pleasure, four-eyes.”

“Oi, Nanaba!” Hange calls. She doesn’t know what to say next, finds it hard to concentrate with Levi so close to her, but she trusts he’ll back her up.

As always, he doesn’t disappoint.

“Is that your lipstick on Mike’s neck?”

There is no lipstick on his neck, Nanaba isn’t even wearing one, but they both panic and they both exchange quick glances. It’s enough of an evidence to make everyone laugh.

Mike is smiling, as he pulls Nanaba closer, tucking her under his arm. “We really suck at being discreet, aren’t we, Nana?”

“That we are,” she agrees with a smile as gentle and loving as Mike’s. “I guess there is something we want to tell you then.”

“About damn time,” Erwin shakes his head. “Do you know how many times I’ve caught you making out in the supply closet? I was getting tired of keeping quiet about it.”

“You didn’t keep quiet about it,” Levi grumbles. “Every time you caught them you ran to tell me.”

“And then me,” Hang gleefully adds.

Nanaba and Mike groan in unison, their faces red as tomato.

“We have the worst friends ever.”

Hange laughs. She very much begs to differ.

***

Beers and constant laughter very soon make all of them sleepy. That’s how Hange finds herself sandwiched between Erwin and Mike on a bed in the guest room, and though there is enough space for another person to fit in, Nanaba claims the master bedroom, and Levi takes one look at them and retires to the living room, sprawling over the couch.

In Erwin and Mike’s arms Hange feels safe and content. Her previous doubts take a seat back and let her enjoy the night with her friends. Thankfully, sleep comes to her that much easier than it did last night.

It doesn’t last for long, though.

The sun still isn’t up, but the world isn’t dark anymore, when Hange wakes up from her slumber.

Erwin is snoring into her ear, but there is a vacant place to her left, where Mike used to sleep. It’s not hard to guess where he had disappeared to, and Hange allows herself a small smile at the expanse of her friends’ happiness.

She doesn’t feel like sleeping anymore, so she throws one blanket over Erwin and snatches another one, wrapping it around her shoulders. With her feet bare and still dressed in a pajama shorts and Mike’s t-shirt that almost reaches her knees, she leaves the room and goes downstairs, walking outside. She takes a seat at a porch swing and draws a slow, deep breath, taking in the beauty around her.

The world is only starting to wake up, and grey color is more prominent than anything else, but there are just enough soft shades of purple, blue and pink to make up for it. Nanaba’s house sits just at the edge of a clearing that leads to a small lake, and the morning brings thick streak of fog that spreads over crystal surface.

It’s beautiful enough to take her breath away, and Hange loses herself in the calm, gentle feeling that finds its way inside her.

That feeling is strong enough to hide the sound of soft footsteps that approach her. Hange notices someone else’s presence only when the swing starts moving. She startles, her head darting to the side, but relaxes instantly, when she sees Levi’s sharp profile. He’s holding two cups of steaming tea in his hands, and hands one cup to Hange.

“Thank you,” she smiles, inhaling the sweet aroma of tea. It tastes just as sweet as it smells, she realizes after taking the first sip. Then, she turns her attention back to Levi. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, I usually wake up at this time. Insomnia,” he says, and, right, now Hange remembers something-something about Levi sleeping not nearly enough for a normal human being. “Heard that you woke up and decided you might want a company.”

“How did you know that it was me who woke up?”

Levi gives her a short glance before shrugging and returning his gaze back to the scenery in front of them. “Your steps are different,” he answers, like it explains everything.

It does explain everything for Levi, Hange muses. He works in a strange, obscure way, so very different from other people. That’s why Hange likes him. That’s why she feels so comfortable with him.

Perhaps, it’s a fault of a dim, morning light or, perhaps, it’s her own sleepiness that changes her perception, but Levi looks a little different, softer around the edges. Because of it, Hange allows herself a small indulgence and moves close enough for their shoulders to touch.

Just a fraction, barely an inch, but she feels Levi move closer as well.

All of it – the colors merging on a horizon, the fog that makes everything look almost ethereal, the sweet tea made by Levi, Levi himself – fuse together to create an impossibly light, gentle feeling that very rarely visits Hange.

In that moment she feels happy, so happy that not even a brief thought of what’s going to happen if I leave is enough to ruin that mood. She simply drowns that pesky doubt down with tea and turns to look at Levi.

“I’m so lucky to have met you all,” she reveals to him in a quiet voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy before.”

Levi stares at her, and there is something in his eyes, something fierce and at the same time vulnerable that Hange can’t quite understand. She isn’t sure she wants to, not now, at least.

“Let’s stay like this,” she says, almost a plea. “At least, for a little while.”

“As you wish,” Levi agrees easily as though… as though whatever is it that she wants, he’ll get her.

The thought is both comforting and terrifying. Comforting, because it means he cares about her, because it means she’s not alone anymore.

And terrifying, because it makes her happy, and Hange isn’t sure she’d be able to part with that happiness, when the time comes.

***

No matter how much Hange wants to prolong that fuzzy feeling and stay in that small bubble with her friends, all too soon the weekend ends. Monday comes and with it arrives a new wave of responsibilities.

But not only responsibilities return – Moblit does too, and as soon as she sees him, Hange hugs him close to her chest, laughing when he starts complaining that she squeezes him too much.

“It’s been too quiet without your nagging!” Hange pats him on a back, smiling from ear to ear. “And you’ve missed one hell of a party! We’ve been sleeping so peacefully without your snores.”

“You like my snores,” Moblit argues, and he is right to do so. Moblit’s throaty snores lull her to sleep better than any lullaby. Besides, cuddling with him is always a delight, his tummy softer than any pillow. “And I’ve heard about that party already,” he continues with an almost sly look. “Nanaba told they found you and Levi getting cozy on a porch.”

Hange huffs, turning away from his knowing look. “I see Nanaba’s obsession with gossips is infectious.”

“It’s Sina’s Gossips we’re working at. Love for gossip is the requirement to get a position here,” Moblit jokes, and Hange shakes her head with a low chuckle.

Moblit’s been absent for just a week, but it was enough to make her miss him like crazy. She’s glad he is back. And more than anything, she wants to chat some more, but the work doesn’t wait.

She contacts Zeke as she drinks her first cup of coffee, and not even five minutes pass before he schedules another meeting with her.

There is no need for your editor to join us this time :)

Hange isn’t sure what irritates her more – Zeke’s apparent dislike of Levi or the stupid emoji.

However, Erwin’s words ring in her ear, yet another reminder that this is important, Hange, we can’t afford to blow this off, especially not with a man like Zeke on board. So she replies him with a stupid emoji of her own, and, gritting her teeth, adds that she is looking forward to their meeting.

Then, not wanting to repeat her last mistake, Hange checks the place Zeke has invited her to. This time it’s a restaurant, and a flashy one at that. The time he sets the meeting for – seven pm – is another hint that it is not a casual meeting, and therefore she needs to wear something better than her usual clothes.

She isn’t sure she can pull it off all by herself, though, and she isn’t sure there is at least one item of clothing in her closet that can be classified as fancy, so Hange asks Nanaba to help.

Nanaba agrees instantly, her eyes brightening up at the prospect. She promises to come over at the evening of the meeting with Zeke, bring some new clothes for Hange and pick up something classy.

At five pm sharp, just two hours before her meeting, Nanaba shows at Hange’s place, holding two large packages.

She doesn’t come alone, and with wide eyes Hange watches how Mike, Moblit and Levi trail inside her apartment after Nanaba.

“Erwin couldn’t make it, because he’s old and boring,” Nanaba cheerfully informs her. “But he asked to send him pictures of every look I’d pick for you.”

“Has anyone told you how wicked and vile you are?” Hange asks her with a glare that could almost rival Levi’s.

“Mike makes sure to tell me this regularly,” Nanaba flippantly replies. “Now go and get changed! We don’t have all evening.”

It takes five changes of clothes to finally find something that satisfies Nanaba’s fashion sense and doesn’t make Hange feel like she’s out of her element.

She is dressed in a dark brown suit with a black shirt underneath, and after Nanaba makes a controlled mess out of her hair, Hange has to agree – she looks very good.

“Let’s show you to the boys,” Nanaba whispers before taking a quick photo for Erwin. She pushes Hange into the living room, where Mike, Moblit and Levi are already waiting for her, all of them nursing a bottle of beer. “We’ve got yes from Erwin!” Nanaba cheerfully announces after checking her phone.

“That’s a definite yes from me too,” Mike nods in agreement.

“You look so handsome,” Moblit says earnestly, despite his shy smile.

Levi doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Hange either. As she waits for his verdict, Hange wonders if the desire to change her look, because Levi obviously doesn’t like it, is simply stupid or downright pathetic.

“Levi,” Nanaba glowers at him, when the silence stretches for far too long.

Hange wants to deflate the tension with some joke, but then Levi clears his throat. “Not bad, four-eyes,” he says, making her heart stumble. “Go get that stupid monkey.”

Hange wants to hug him, so, so much, but she’s afraid to ruin the suit, so she settles on thanking him with a bright, happy smile.

Levi’s expression softens like that is all the thanks he desires.

“Continue making heart eyes at Levi, and you’ll miss your little meeting, Hans,” Nanaba whispers.

Hange hopes the red on her cheeks will be interpreted as anger, but Nanaba is right – she has to hurry, all this effort would be in vain if she arrives even a little too late.

“C’mon,” Mike wraps an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll give you a lift.”

Hange smiles, feeling so grateful – to all of them. She wouldn’t be ready for this evening if it wasn’t for Nanaba, she probably wouldn’t get that deal with Zeke if it wasn’t for Levi, her column wouldn’t be so successful if it wasn’t for Moblit’s assistance and Mike’s constant help, she wouldn’t have this job, this family if it wasn’t for Erwin who decided to hire her.

They all wish her luck one last time at the entrance of the restaurant. Nanaba and Moblit fruitlessly try to peek inside and get a glimpse of Zeke, when Levi wraps his hand around her wrist, dragging Hange aside.

“It’s Tuesday,” he says matter-of-factly.

More than a little confused, Hange blinks, then nods in affirmative, she knows it’s Tuesday, she’s not that disorganized.

“It’s Tuesday,” he repeats, tilting his head just so.

It is only then, to Hange’s shame, that she finally understands what he means.

“The letters, right?” she grins, proud of her own quick-wittedness. It took her only a moment to guess.

“I sent them over already. If you won’t be too exhausted after the meeting…”

“I’ll check them out as soon as I get home,” she promises.

There is nothing else to say, nothing else to do but walk away from Levi and inside the restaurant, where Zeke is probably waiting for her. Still… Hange is reluctant to leave. There is something between her and Levi, something almost tangible, and it keeps her glued to his side.

This feeling, it grows bigger, harder to ignore, until—

Until it disappears, when Nanaba tugs at her hand. Hange allows her friend to pull her away from Levi, stopping just for a second to turn around and wave him goodbye. Levi’s face is set in the usual scowl, but his gaze softens, and it fuels Hange with determination and resolve.

She looks around and, encouraged by her friends’ unwavering support, steps inside the restaurant.

***

Just as Hange predicted, Zeke is already there. When he notices her approach, he stands up and with a dazzling smile and pulls a chair for her.

“Hange Zoe,” he all but purrs. “You’re absolutely ravishing tonight.”

His words are too sweet, Zeke himself is too sweet to seem genuine, but Hange gives him a smile nevertheless. His compliment doesn’t succeed in making her heart race like Levi’s quiet ‘not bad, four-eyes’ did, but it still pleases her.

She doesn’t believe he truly means it, knows that Zeke uses flirting to get something out of her, but, oh well… if a man like Zeke Yeager wants something from her… isn’t it already fluttering?

“I took a liberty to order for you myself, if you don’t mind,” Zeke says.

Hange does mind, not that she can express it now, after Zeke already ordered. That’s exactly what he was counting for, Hange can very well see it – in the slight curve of his mouth and an amused shine in his eyes.

“As long as the meal is delicious,” she murmurs slyly.

Zeke laughs, and Hange mentally congratulates herself. Erwin would be so proud.

Speaking of Erwin…

“My boss agreed to your offer, he’s very interested in it and hopes…”

“Hange,” Zeke cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “We have work email to discuss things like that. Delicious food, beautiful night… why don’t we simply enjoy it? We can talk about work later.”

Hange frowns, looking at the man before her intently. For the life of her, she can’t comprehend what does he want from her.

“You’re a journalist with bright future ahead of you,” Zeke says, like he knows what exactly Hange is thinking about. “I want to help you succeed, but, aside from that, you’re an intriguing person. I simply wish to get to know you better. Is it so bad?”

Either she really sucks at reading people, or Zeke is that good of an actor, but… he seems genuine enough. Hange struggles with keeping her suspicion.

Before she can give him an answer, their food is brought in. The plate before Hange looks more expensive than she could probably afford, and she is pretty sure she won’t be able to even pronounce the name of a dish, but she takes a first bite, and… can barely resist a moan.

It’s good, really good – spicy but not bitter, and just crunchy and juicy enough.

“Is it delicious?” Zeke quirks an eyebrow, smug and amused.

The dish is so tasty, Hange can’t find it in herself to snap at him. “It’s perfect,” she confesses, sending another slice into her mouth.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, to be honest, I was quite nervous about your reaction.”

Zeke doesn’t look nervous in the slightest, but if he’s so dead-set on playing a gentleman tonight, Hange can indulge him.

“So what exactly do you want to know about me?” she asks, pouring wine in both of their glasses.

“Ah, right,” Zeke pushes the glasses up his nose. “The first thing I’m interested in…”

***

They spend the whole dinner talking, jumping from one topic to another. Despite his arrogance, Zeke is an interesting man, he knows how to entertain and engage his companion, and so very soon Hange loses herself in conversation with him.

Time flies fast, and when they stand up from the table, Hange is shocked to discover that it’s almost ten in the evening.

Zeke remains a gentleman till the very end, and after paying their bill, he drives Hange home. He stops just outside of her apartment block, and when he turns off the engine, Hange knows she is ought to say something.

“I had fun. Thank you for the evening.” She says, and she means it. She doesn’t feel nearly as happy as when she is with her friends from Sina’s Gossips, but Zeke proved to be a good company. Hange is looking forward to working with him.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Zeke tilts his head, ever the charmer. “I’ll see you again?”

“Sure,” Hange agrees and gets out of the car. “Good night,” she yells into his open window and then hurries up the steps to her apartment.

Exhaustion sips into her bones the moment Hange crosses the threshold. She kicks off the shoes and takes off the suit, trudging up to the shower. Once she is clean and fresh, she falls onto her bed and gets under the blankets. Only then, Hange remembers her conversation with Levi.

With the last bit of her energy, she takes the phone into her hands and unlocks it, going immediately to the mail. She isn’t awake enough to read all the letters, so she just quickly scrolls through them. A thank you message from a man who found his lobster… a distraught mother who doesn’t know how to communicate with her son… a middle-aged teacher with a mid-life crisis… Hange scrolls further down, until she sees a familiar username.

She smiles and opens the letter.

Good day, and thank you again for the last advice. Admittedly, I was a bit skeptical about it, “trust that she knows you well enough” seemed just that side of too easy, but I think she does know me well enough to see through my rude exterior. What’s more, I think she knows me well enough to see things I don’t even wish to show her. I can’t yet decide if that’s a good thing, or a terrifying one.

Alas, there is another problem, one that bothers me constantly.

Without getting too much into details… there is a chance she might leave the company we both work for. I know it might not seem that awful, we can still remain friends even if we don’t work together, but… I’m afraid we’ll drift apart when she leaves. Without common ground, without our friends bringing us together, she wouldn’t have a reason to talk to me. Maybe, she wouldn’t even want to.

But that’s not the thing that bothers me the most. She hasn’t yet decided if she wants to leave or not, and, as much as I am reluctant to let her go, I… I wish she follows her dreams, even if they tear us apart. But she’s perceptive, and, as I’ve mentioned before, she knows things about me that I very well try to hide. So what if she learns about my reluctance? What if it somehow influences her final decision?

I don’t wish for that to happen, whether she stays or she leaves, I don’t want to be her reason for either.

Because if she grows to be unhappy about that decision… I don’t think I’ll be able to take.

I… don’t think I’ve explained my point clear enough, maybe, because it’s not clear enough in my mind too. However, as always, I put my trust in you.

You haven’t left me down before, after all.

Thanks for bearing with me. Hopefully, it’s not the last time.

Hange groans in frustration, as she comes to an end of the letter. Here she was hoping to receive some sweet news from her lover boy, but he presented her with another dilemma instead. And one that is so similar to hers too. Maybe, it’s a sign, a way of universe telling her… something. The message is not yet clear enough.

Perhaps, with a little time, she’ll be able to decipher it. But as for now, Hange decides, putting the phone on top of the bedside table, the only thing she really, really needs is sleep.

And, thankfully, it comes to her easily.

***

The next day Hange dives deep into work and stays in the depth of articles, lectures, textbooks and letters from readers for entire two weeks.

In almost everything, Zeke is the one to assist her. Email exchange, video calls, personal meetings… because of all that, Zeke seems to be constantly by her side.

He invites her to his company, organizes the tour around the offices, introduces her to every employee. They’re nice, Hange supposes. Overly politely and unnaturally friendly, but that’s to be expected from total strangers.

Zeke shows her his office – a big room with glass walls and large window that overlooks the city. It drives to a point just how different their newspapers are. It almost makes Hange self-conscious about inviting him to her own office. Thankfully, Levi is there to chase away any discomfort.

As soon as Zeke gets inside their office, Levi is there, glaring at him like he’s trying to burn a hole in his head.

“As Hange’s editor, I’m here to oversee your work with her,” he explains, and proceeds to critique everything Zeke does.

Zeke’s habit of scratching his ear makes him look like a monkey and his beard makes him look like a homeless person, his voice makes Levi’s head hurt, his cologne stinks, he talks too much and works too little, his jokes aren’t funny and his remarks are unnecessary. Levi finds a way to insult everything about Zeke.

Hange would have reprimanded him, she did a few times, but she can’t deny that Levi’s hatred is… kind of funny. It’s petty and childish, but at the same time hilarious to the point that Hange has to constantly bite the inside of her cheeks otherwise she’d be laughing at his jabs like a mad person.

Still, Zeke is an important business partner and her possible colleague, so…

“Please forgive Levi for his… lack of professionalism,” she tells Zeke when Levi leaves to bring them tea. Just moments before Levi had called Zeke ‘an insufferable snob who doesn’t give a single fuck about people around him’, so naturally, Hange feels that apology in an absolute necessity this time.

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended,” Zeke smiles, and it looks just that side of arrogant, reminding Hange about Levi’s words and making her feel like maybe, his assertion of Zeke isn’t entirely wrong. “His reason for acting like that is perfectly understandable. When one stands between a man and his… well,” Zeke trails off, staring at Hange enigmatically.

His what? Zeke is standing between Levi and… what? Is it the reason why they don’t like each other so much? Is it something that happened in the past? Or is it a recent development?

Hange wants to ask, but the moment for this is lost, when Levi comes back, holding a trail in his hands.

“I spat into your coffee,” he says to Zeke with the most deadpan expression. If Hange didn’t know Levi a little better, she’d believe that he actually did it. But Zeke isn’t fooled so easily, so he just wolfishly grins and thanks Levi in a sweet voice. Levi swears under his breath and then turns to Hange, murmuring, “Yours is with three sugars.”

“Just as you like it,” Zeke sing-songs, and Hange can’t stop laughter from bubbling out of her throat at the sight of pure hatred on Levi’s usually indifferent face.

“Let’s get back to work,” she says, still chuckling.

Thankfully, they both listen to her.

***

When Zeke leaves to return to his own office, Hange breathes out in relief. She stretches her arms and sprawls out her long legs beneath the desk with a pleased hum. Working with Zeke is satisfying enough, but with just Levi around, she feels much more at ease.

“So,” she nudges his foot with her leg. “What’s up with you and Zeke? What is the source of a drama?” and, remembering Zeke’s previous comment Hange adds, “Did he steal your crush or what?”

Levi looks affronted. He glares at Hange, hands crossed on his chest and a slight pout curving his lips.

Hange thinks he’s going to tell her to fuck off, almost expects him too, but this time, Levi surprises her.

“Remember my cousin? Mikasa?”

Of course, Hange does. How could she ever forget Mikasa, the only person in this world with a scowl as scary as Levi’s?

“Well, Zeke has a little brother, a brat named Eren.”

Hange nods, she vaguely remembers Levi mentioning some brother, and, more than once, Zeke had bragged to her about Eren, his darling sibling.

“He and Mikasa are friends, and my idiot cousin has been pining after him for years.”

Hange has some troubles imagining a pining Ackerman, and she briefly wonders what Levi would act like, if he had been pining after someone. Can he even pine?

“Eren had been an asshole to her, even made her cry once, so...”

“So?” Hange prompts, practically at the edge of her seat.

“So I decided to teach him a lesson. I wanted to scare him a bit, but it kinda backfired when Zeke spotted the two of us. I wasn’t going to punch him or anything, but apparently that’s how it looked.”

“And?”

Levi sighs. “And Zeke did what he could to protect his little brother.”

“He punched you?” Hange’s eyes are wide, as she tries to imagine that particular scene. Zeke is so much bigger than Levi, if he had punched him… Hange suddenly feels very angry.

“No, although I wish he did. It happened just outside of our university, and so Zeke had me reported to the dean. Something about assaulting a minor… it almost got me expelled.”

“What a fucker,” Hange growls, her fist clenching involuntarily. She knew just how hard it was for Levi to get into that university and pay for the classes, and to think that he nearly got expelled because of something so stupid…

“It was an asshole move, I agree. But a part of me actually understands him.”

“Huh? Why?”

Hange can’t even fathom a reason to defend what Zeke did. She knows she would never forgive him for that. It doesn’t seem like Levi has forgiven him either, but he understands him? Hange doesn’t think she would be as gracious.

“Do you have a sibling, four-eyes?” Levi asks. “Or a cousin?”

“No.”

With a thoughtful expression, he hums. “That’s why you don’t understand.”

His answer confuses Hange. And at the same time, it intrigues her. She knows that a bond between siblings is a special one, and as an only child, she can’t grasp the meaning of it. Levi seems to cherish his relationship with Mikasa, even if he always calls her a brat and complains about her bad manners. It must be nice to have someone, a friend that lives with you in the same house. Hange can’t exactly imagine it, but she acknowledges the importance of it anyway.

“But enough of this,” Levi says, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Your collaboration with Zeke is almost at its end. Your article will come out in a few days, have you decided what are you going to do next? Have you already told Erwin that Zeke offered you a place at his newspaper?”

“I haven’t.”

She doesn’t quite know how to approach this conversation. What’s more, she doesn’t quite know what her decision is. Money Island is an opportunity that shouldn’t be ignored, Hange doesn’t want to ignore it. A resignation letter that is hidden inside the desk's drawer is a testament to this. It will give her career a boost she always dreamed of, and Hange can’t let it just slide past her. She isn’t going to, probably, but… she is reluctant.

“We still don’t know if our collaboration will turn out to be a success or not,” she adds, an attempt to justify her indecisiveness. “Maybe, Zeke wouldn’t want to do anything with me, if we fail.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Levi rolls his eyes, apparently refusing to even entertain this idea. “The article will be a success. And you’ll do great at that job.”

Hange snickers in an attempt to lighten up the mood, to distract Levi from her unease. “Sounds like you just want to get rid of me.”

“It’s your decision,” Levi doesn’t deny, not confirm her comment. It sets Hange just a little further on edge. “What I want doesn’t matter whatsoever.”

His words sound familiar, strangely so, but Hange refuses to think about it any further. The words might sound like those from the lover boy’s letter, but the context is different. Levi and him are different. And whoever lover boy is devoted to, Hange is sure that she and that person are different too.

“I’m starving,” Levi stands up, a bit too abruptly, but Hange is too lost in her thoughts to take note of it. “Let’s steal some food from Mike.”

Hange smiles, grateful for the offer, and stands up to join Levi. “I saw Erwin bring yoghurt today.”

“We need to hurry then,” he grabs her hand, quickening her stride. “Otherwise Nanaba will steal it before we even have a chance.”

Hange laughs and eagerly follows after him.

***

When the article finally comes out, it turns out to be a glaring success. Both newspapers gain new audience, a number of newcomers bigger than Erwin had anticipated.

Everyone is happy and proud of Hange accomplishment. No one is surprised at her success.

Mike, Nanaba and Moblit all but run into her office, interrupting each other in their haste to congratulate her.

Levi is the last one to approach her. He wears an unusually open, almost happy expression.

“Told you’d do great,” he murmurs.

Hange knows she shouldn’t do it, knows that Levi won’t enjoy it, his aversion to invasion of his personal space is proverbial, but… Hange accomplished a lot, right? She deserves a little celebratory gift.

With that in mind, she shortens the distance between them and goes in for the tightest, squishiest hug she had in a while.

Levi grunts his protest, but doesn’t object further. In a move that sets Hange’s heart ablaze, he wraps his arms around her too.

Hange likes hugs, receives lots of them – at parties, she often cuddles with Nanaba and Mike, sometimes falls asleep with Erwin holding her close, and Moblit always gets too clingy when he has a little too much to drink. She enjoys embracing her friends, but a hug from Levi – perhaps, Hange tries to reason, because it is such a rare occurrence – makes her brim with unbridled happiness.

***

After the short, but very much enjoyed celebratory hug, Hange invites her friends to get celebratory drinks.

The evening is great, it is filled with pleasant conversation and so much laughter that Hange’s stomach starts to ache from it. The evening is great, could have been perfect… if Hange could forget about the resignation letter that is hidden inside her desk’s drawer.

It is a little after midnight, when they leave the bar and call it a night. But while everyone else heads to their homes, Hange decides to come to the office.

Almost wistfully, she turns on the computer. The first thing she sees is the time and the date, displayed at the bottom of a screen, that tells her it’s the early hours of Wednesday.

The second thing she sees is a notification that Levi sent her a letter.

Right. It’s letters day. Perhaps, the last one for her.

Hange opens the mail, her eyes instantly searching for the familiar username. She doesn’t find it.

She goes through the whole archive again, this time much slower. Still nothing. Then – what if third time is a charm – she scrolls down to the bottom once more. And…

No luck.

It’s the first time in a while that Hange doesn’t receive a letter from the lover boy. It can be a good thing, she supposes. Maybe, the lover boy finally confessed and his beloved stayed with him. Maybe, that’s why he doesn’t need her advices anymore. Or, maybe… Maybe, she left. That will explain the absence of the letter too.

It’s just a letter, from a total stranger at that, but Hange feels sad. Her eyes water as she stares at the computer screen.

She can’t help but wonder – did lover boy’s beloved know about his feelings? Did she decide to leave anyway? Or was she none the wiser about the extent of his affections towards her? If so, did she regret leaving him behind?

Would Hange herself regret leaving her job and friends?

She’s not sure. The worst thing about regret is that it doesn’t appear until after you’ve already done something.

Maybe, she will regret it, maybe, she won’t. The only way to find out is to keep moving forward.

With a heavy heart and tear-streaked face, Hange takes the resignation letter out of the drawer.

***

When she breaks the news to Erwin, he is not at all surprised. He’s not even angry or disappointed, he doesn’t ask to reconsider. A part of Hange wishes he did. That would give her an excuse to stay.

His smile is sad, but at the same time it’s proud. He thanks Hange for three years of hard work and wishes her the best of luck.

“When you’ll get rich and famous,” he says as he wraps his arm around her. “Think of us sometimes, even if briefly.”

Hange’s answering laugh sounds more like a sob. “How could I ever forget all of you?”

Erwin chuckles and wipes away her tears. “You’re a star, Hange, don’t you ever doubt it.”

***

Her last day at work ends with Hange getting shit-faced at their favorite bar. Everyone else is just as drunk as she is – Nanaba refuses to let go of her arm, Mike keeps asking her to call him every day, and Moblit has already cried for three times.

The only semi-sober ones are Erwin, who has to show up to shareholders’ meeting tomorrow morning, and Levi, who is an abnormal human being that alcohol holds no power over.

In the end, he is the one tasked to bring Hange home.

For the entire of their ride to her apartment complex, Hange does her best to behave. She breaks down as soon as they get inside.

Apparently thinking that forcing her to shower would be too much of a bother, Levi leads her straight to the bedroom.

Hange doesn’t fight it, too exhausted to do so, but when Levi starts tucking her in, she grabs his wrist.

“Levi,” she says, and the amount of alcohol she consumed earlier makes it easier to not give a fuck that her voice sounds almost pleading. “Levi, what do you think about me leaving?”

Levi has said nothing on the topic throughout the whole evening. And, while he has given her a hint about his stance on it before, and it probably wouldn’t matter at all, since she is going to leave anyway, Hange still wants to know.

“I told you before,” he doesn’t pull his hand away from her grasp, if anything he moves a little closer, sitting at the edge of her bed. “My opinion doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Hange assures. “To me, it matters.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Do you want me to stay?” she looks deep into his eyes, but be it the influence of alcohol or the absence of her glasses… she can’t read him at all. “If you really do, maybe—”

“No.” Levi cuts her off sharply. “No, Hange, there is no maybe. It’s your decision, and my feelings can’t become your reason.”

Again, the words are familiar, but Hange is drunk. Hange is filled with alcohol and conflicting emotions and lingering doubts. Besides, she’s too lost in the intense look inside Levi’s eyes to make sense of anything else.

“Good night,” Levi whispers, pressing his lips to her forehead in a feather light, achingly gentle kiss. “I hope you will be happy.”

He leaves just before Hange thinks of asking him to stay.

***

Hange swears to stay in touch with everyone at Sina’s Gossips, and she fully intends to keep that promise, but then— then the work gets in the way.

Her first week at Money Island is all but a blur. There is so much to do, so much to learn, and Hange gets lost in it almost immediately.

She stays in the office after hours, she works during weekends, every waking moment is essentially spent on trying to make sense of it all. The employees of Money Island help, which Hange is immensely grateful for, and she is no stranger to working after hours, but… what made her power through it before is not there anymore.

After two weeks she spends on her new job, Hange can’t deny it anymore – her new position is boring.

All these numbers, charts, net worth, stocks options, so on and so forth… it’s so dull and tiresome, it sucks all of Hange’s enthusiasm and inspiration.

That thrill, that excitement, it isn’t there anymore, there is no passion to fuel her, no purpose worth pursuing.

At least, her new colleagues are nice enough. However… Hange can’t help but compare them to her old ones.

Pieck is funny and kind, but not nearly as kind as Nanaba. Porco’s jokes, no matter what he thinks about them, aren’t as hilarious as Mike’s, and watching the development of his relationship with Pieck doesn’t give Hange the same thrill as Nanaba and Mike’s relationship did. Onyankopon is so polite, and he’s always ready to help, but he isn’t as endearingly awkward and cute as Moblit. Her new boss, Magath, isn’t half the man Erwin is. And Zeke… Zeke doesn’t even begin to compare with Levi.

Hange wants to like them, she really does, but all this work leaves little to no time to hang out with her friends, and their absence makes her more unwilling to connect with the new colleagues.

Out of sheer stubbornness, Hange continues working for another two weeks, hoping that maybe, with just enough time, she’ll get her spark back.

She is in the middle of writing another article, something about yet another failing company, when her phone pings, announcing a notification. Taking it a sign from above that she needs to take a break, Hange looks away from the computer screen and redirects her attention to the phone.

The notification announces a new letter, to her personal account. Intrigued, Hange opens it and almost squeals when she sees the username.

wings_of_freedom@gmail.com

Hange stares at it for a long, long moment. The letter isn’t redirected as it usually was, meaning… the lover boy knows her personal mail address, or…

The lover boy is someone she actually knows.

Not sure which one is more improbable, Hange opens the letter. It’s an unusually short one.

It’s been almost a month since she left. I still miss her every damn day. Do you have any advice how to stop it?

In that moment, everything clicks. Every coincidence and conjunction, every moment she felt like she could connect to the lover boy, every time his dilemma perfectly reflected her own. The fact that he knows her email address and the fact that he mentioned one month, precisely the amount of time that passed since she left Sina’s Gossips… there are too many seemingly random things that together create a clear enough picture.

Hange rereads the letter again, just to make sure that it’s real, just to make sure that she isn’t imagining it, that it isn’t wishful thinking.

It doesn’t seem like it is, Hange doesn’t believe it is, and a realization forces a surprised, happy laugh out of her throat.

It takes her but a moment to set her mind, and then, Hange closes the word document with an article, not bothering to save it. She opens another one right after that, and starts writing what will be another resignation letter, this time addressed to CEO of Money Island, Theo Magath. When she finishes, Hange opens powerpoint and proceeds to make a presentation that consists of almost eighty slides.

Perhaps, not her best work, but Hange is confident it will suffice.

She doesn’t bother waiting for Magath to come back from his meeting to give him a letter. She bumps into Zeke just as she exits the small office they gave her, and she thrusts the resignation letter into his hands before he can pull her into one of his endless, mostly one-sided conversation that serve mainly to stroke his ego.

When he takes a look at the letter, Zeke seems regretful, but— not at all surprised.

“I hoped you’d stay with us for a little longer…” he confesses with a slow shake of his head. “But I guess we can’t do what we don’t love.”

“I’m sorry,” Hange says, a small compensation.

“Don’t be,” Zeke waves her off, as easily and smoothly as he does everything else. “However, if you ever decide to go on a date with someone taller than a middle-schooler…”

Really, even Zeke knows? Is she that oblivious?

“You’ll be the first one to know,” Hange laughs, feeling lighter than she did in weeks.

Without wasting anymore time, Hange ducks into her office, grabs what little things she brought here and then rushes to small, not at all impressive, but so dearly loved building of Sina’s Gossips.

Just before entering, she stops and looks up at the front door. Finally… she feels at peace.

A moment is all she allows, before she walks inside.

Her first stop is Erwin’s office, where Hange plugs a USB and starts her presentation before Erwin can even ask what she’s doing here. It takes absolutely nothing to convince him to give her position back, but it does take the whole eighty slides to make him at the very least consider her new proposition – a new segment where Hange will be observing local news. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and a promising one at that.

“But I still need you to take care of the advice column,” Erwin warns just after he surrenders to Hange’s enthusiasm that slowly starts to come back to her. “Mike is quite terrible at it.”

“Consider it done, chief!” Hange exclaims with a quick salute.

Erwin smiles and stands up to embrace her. “Then, Hange Zoe, welcome back to Sina’s Gossips.”

Hange is smiling so much, she worries that her face might break.

After Erwin, she runs straight into Nanaba’s arms. As they embrace, Nanaba laughs, then cries, then laughs again.

“God, Hange, I’m so happy you came back,” she says, wiping her tears. “I was this close to dying of boredom.”

“You don’t know boredom until you’ve worked in finance, Nana.”

They laugh in unison, and Hange’s heart is full of affection, when Nanaba wetly kisses her cheek.

Just before stopping at Moblit’s desk, Hange heads to break room and is lucky enough to find Mike eating a sandwich there.

Hange steals it with a delighted laughter, instantly taking a huge bite.

“Never thought I’d miss someone stealing my food,” he shakes his head with a big smile. “But here we are, I guess. It’s good to have you back, Hans.”

At first, Moblit doesn’t actually believe she is real. He rubs his eyes and squints at her, tentatively touches her arm, gives her another once-over, and whatever he noticed – perhaps, it’s her mismatched socks – convinces him that he isn’t seeing things.

And then gathers her in his arms.

“They made me work with Levi,” he whispers into her shoulders. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

Hange laughs – she does it a lot today, compensating for that month she spent feeling sorry for herself – and pats Moblit’s shoulder.

“Speaking of our favorite shorty, where is he?”

“In his office, probably brooding as always. Since you left, he’s been doing it more often. ”

Hange thanks Moblit with a quick peck on his cheek, and then she is moving again, now heading to her final destination.

The inside of Levi’s office is dark, and awfully quiet. The only sound is the click-clack of the keyboard and the only light comes from the computer screen. It further highlights the dark circle under his eyes and the overall paleness of his face.

Hange clears her throat to get his attention.

Levi’s eyes snap to her, widening almost immediately. There is an ocean of questions, ready to spill from his lips, but Hange doesn’t give him a chance to voice any of them.

“So there is this guy, he’s been sending letters to me since forever. He’s so sweet, a true romantic, and, well, his letters were kinda the highlight of my week,” she pauses to take a quick breath, and continues. “And I’ve been rooting so hard for him, you know? I wanted him to get together with that sweetheart of his, but I also felt like she was kinda oblivious, if you get what I’m talking about. Perhaps, not completely blind, but with a vision poor enough to miss what is right in front of her. Or, perhaps, she always has her head up in the clouds and the guy is a little short, so it’s easy to miss him? And-”

“So you’ve figured it out then?” Levi interrupts her. His calmness makes Hange more nervous.

“I have.”

“Only now?”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” a ghost of a smile dances around his narrow lips. “Completely blind then.”

Hange huffs, but she can’t resist a smile of her own. She takes a step towards his desk, hopping right on top of it.

“Just so we’re clear,” she touches his forearm, slowly moving her hand up to his shoulder. “You weren’t my reason to leave, Levi. And you aren’t the reason I’m staying. But,” she leans in, hoping that Levi is not as stupid and she is, and he gets the hint that she wants him to lean closer too. “You’re the reason I decided to come back. And for that, I can’t thank you enough.”

Hange closes her eyes, when Levi gently cups her cheek. With bated breath, she waits to feel his lips on hers.

Her lover boy doesn’t disappoint, and the gentle, loving kiss makes her head spin.

After a short moment of bliss, Levi pulls away, and Hange has to forcefully stop herself from chasing after his lips. He smirks at the dazed look in her eyes, and Hange just has to retaliate.

She strokes the skin of his cheek with the most tender of touches, shortening the distance between them with tantalizingly slow speed. Just when they’re less than a breath apart, Hange whispers, in a quiet, endlessly soft voice, “You know, Levi, wings of freedom is a really stupid username.”

Levi pushes her off the desk for that, but it’s still worth it. Even more so, since he catches her right in his arms.

And then her lover boy kisses her again. And again, and again, until her heart is so full of love that she can’t even find it in her to get angry at Mike, who snaps a picture of them and runs away to tell everyone the news.

“They’ll be gossiping about that for weeks,” Levi grumbles.

Hange laughs, smoothing the crease between his eyebrows. “Well, it’s Sina’s Gossips we’re working at. And didn’t you know? Love for the gossip is the requirement to get a position here.”

[ultralovedeluxe]

Yan! Wamuu with prompts #20 and #23

This was requested by the lovely @teachillvibes, thank you so much for requesting! Hopefully this came out nicely ^^

‘I can’t live without you anymore!’

‘Please don’t scream at me like that. You know how much it hurts me’

Warnings: Naga Au, yandere behaviors, kidnapping, masturbation, nsfw, hypnosis(but not really), non/dub con, badly written

  It almost felt like an eternity.

 You don’t even remember when he took you. One day you were having a good time with your husband and friends, next you were getting abducted by a monster you regret befriending. But should that be your fault? Maybe. After all your husband always warned you to stay away from nagas. Even now, you wish you had listened to your husband’s words. Nagas were not creatures to be messed with. You wished you had just gotten ridden of the thought that, maybe, just maybe, some nagas were friendly and kind-hearted. You were delusional enough to believe that this one was different. That this one wouldn’t hurt you. Unfortunately, nagas were dangerous and feral creatures, and you were just delusional.

 “[first], I have returned, I brought the sea urchins you love so much”

  He was here. The monster that claimed to be your ‘mate’ was here. The only true moments of happiness you felt in your imprisonment was when he was gone. Because in that small amount of time, you would think about how your husband was doing. Was he happy without you? Or was he looking for you? You could never be sure. Letting out a deep sigh, you look behind you to see the naga that had kept you here. The sight of him no longer brought the same comfort it used to have. Now you truly began to see the horror behind his appearance.

He was a man, or atleast had the appearance of a man from head to his torso. The rest of his body is what made him threatening to you. Below his "human" appearance, the Naga Wamuu had the body of a snake. He was far larger than you, far larger than any human for that matter.

Sometimes you wondered if he'd eat you, or if he'd feed you to more of his kind. But no, you knew what Wammu wanted from you. You knew exactly why he was keeping you in this position. And quite frankly, maybe the thought of him eating you wasn't so bad.

You didn't even feel Wammu's tail wrap itself around you. You felt disgust rush through your body as the naga left passionate, but almost impatient kisses on your temples.

"Dear pet, I can't bear the thought of staying alive without you anymore. But please, enlighten me, why do you seem so displeased with my touches? Am I not enough for you?" Wamuu asked as his grip on you tightened.

Was he humoring you? Was this an actual, genuine question? And here you are thinking you were the delusional one.

You wanted to spit in his face and yell at him for all the things he's done to you. For taking you away from your village, for forcing you to live in this hell he calls your home. But in fear of angering the naga, you stay silent. However, you still needed to answer his question, because he would get mad regardless.

"Wam- I mean, dear, I'm just not in the mood to be held by you. That's all.." you said, quickly correcting your mistake. Ever since he had captured you, he had forced you to call him pet names to satisfy his deranged fantasy he had with you. Acting as if you two had been lovers for years, as if you had always been the little human house-wife he could come back to after hunting.

 Wammu hummed in understandment, but you knew he didn’t understand. In fact if he truly understood you he would have let you go already. Let you live outside this dull, dark cave and allow you to return to your village. You snapped out of your thoughts as Wammu began planting small kisses on your neck once again. Oh gods..you only hoped Wammu didn’t want to ‘treat’ you tonight. This was usually always a sign when he wanted something, or wanted to give you a treat for being ‘such a good little human’. You remember all the times he had made you gag on his monstrous cock, and then forcing you to swallow his semen as a reward. You tolerated his physical gifts a lot more, because you can’t exactly gag on glorious jewels he had gifted you over the course of staying here. 

 Wammu pressed his lips against you once again, completely savoring the feeling of your dried lips against his. You looked so adorable when you were obidient, he was glad that you weren’t causing any trouble or trying to escape. “My dearest [first] , I will be heading out tonight for some errands, stay inside and don’t let anybody in unless it’s Kars, you know I trust you.. If you are good tonight, I’ll spoil you like the queen you are” he said, unwrapping himself around you. His larger body towered over you, so you simply nodded. The naga leaned towards your face and kissed you again, and you kissed back while carressing his face softly; just as he liked. 

 “I’ll see you soon”

--

 You were bored out of your mind. One of the reasons you hated this cave was because there was no color to brighten up the mood or anything to do. You would just sit around and ponder, until Wammu came back. Maybe you could rearrange your jewels again, just like last time. Maybe you could organize them by shape instead of color, who knows. Maybe Wammu would bring you something to enteratin yourself today. A sewing kit or a painting canvas would be nice. Your thoughts soon drifted off to think about your husband. You missed how his sapphire blue eyes would look in the sun. Oh how you missed tangling your hands in his soft, blonde hair. It was always so soft and wavy, you wondered how he would look like with his hair down. You missed they way he would teasingly hold onto your hips until you gave him a kiss, or whenever he would kiss your chest without holding back. 

 Before you knew it, your pants were gone. You were spread out on the bed Wammu had gifted you when you had ‘obeyed’ his wishes. Your hand had gone down to touch your throbbing clit, and it felt amazing. How long have you been neglecting yourself? You didn’t remember, but for now you just wanted to enjoy this time you had for yourself before Wammu came back. 

 You rubbed your clit slowly with a gentle force. Those small movements were enough to have you whimpering out softly. It just felt so good. To finally touch yourself after weeks of being away from your loved one. You imagined it was your husband prepping you up, so you could easily take him in. You imagined the gentle tone in his voice, constantly praising you throughout your session. He was always so gentle and sweet, but at the same time he was dirty and rough when he wanted to be. Your hand movements became desperate, moving your hips in order to gain some friction. 

 “Hn, Caesar..please-”

 You couldn’t help but to moan out your husband’s name. In fact you did it several times. You wanted to see him again, you wanted to leave this place so you could feel safe again-

 “How dare you think of another man while I’m gone!” 

 You quickly reached over to grab covers, but Wammu didn’t let you; as he had already made his way over to you. You had never seen Wammu this angry before. Sure he has given you his fair share of punishments, but he always kept a poker face. At the moment, anger was clearly visible on his face, and he wasn’t afraid of showing it. 

“Wammu please! I’m sorry! I won’t ever do it again!” you knew it was useless, but trying to plead with him wouldn’t hurt, right? (yes it would, you knew you were in danger, and that there’s no escaping your punishment). Wammu grabbed you by the hair and lifted you up like you were a piece of paper. “Put me down! Please Wammu don’t do this!”

 Instead of hitting you as you first assumed, Wammu placed a rough kiss on your lips. “Please don’t scream at me like that darling, you know how much it hurts me. But your actions have consequences..” While all you could do was look at him in fear, Wammu then proceeded to slap your throbbing clit. “Seems to me you don’t need me to prep you up. You can take both of my cocks well, right pet? After this you will never think of a man other than me ever again”

 Before you knew it, you had lost control of yourself.

--

 The cave you were in was filled with despair and the occasional shimmer from your jewels. Currently, the cave you were in was filled with the hot sounds of Wammu’s twin cocks slamming against your already wet sex. His pace was rough, without any pauses in between. Your moans and pleas were nothing but music to Wammu’s ears. He enjoyed how easily you stopped complaining and fell into the pleasure he could give you.  As for you, the only things you could hear were Wammu’s grunts into your ear, along with the clapping of your sex against his. 

 “Ah Wammu please go slower!” you whined, but Wammu did the complete opposite. He went just a tad bit slower, but made his pace rougher than it was before. “I’m afraid I can’t do that pet. Do you love me? Do you enjoy what we’re doing?” he asked while thrusting himself in you, while at the same time rubbing your clit with a gentle amount of force.

 “Yes! Wammu please let me cum!” you moaned out. Never in your life did you think you’d be ravished by a monstrous man. Wammuu hummed in amusement as he slowed his pace and bit your neck softly, “Then say my name pet, who can make you feel this way?”. You were at your climax, “You Wammu! You’re the only one I swear!-” you whined as you came on Wammu’s cocks.

 Wammu laid you down on your bed, “Now pet, who is your one true love?”. You could barely open your eyes, “Cae- you Wammu..” you whispered, clearly still tired from your 'love' making session.

 “Guess we’ll have to try again..”

[ineedglasses]

VK Character Analysis: Rido Kuran

Rido is a complete, messed up, SOB, but I still like him as a character because he is simply such a fun villain. If I were to place him in that alignment chart thing, he would be “chaotic evil” without a doubt.

While he is generally seen as a creepy, sister-obsessed, maniac, I really believe he was different earlier in his life. 

This analysis is based off the Rido we see in the manga and the light novel, NOT the Rido in the anime, since the anime was trash and deviated from the manga when it came to his arc. Anyway, at the start of the post, I will go over the info from the light novel and manga, next will be my headcanons of him as a young man and at the end is my interpretation of him when he was crazy, as we see him in the original series.

                                                               XXX

The Deranged Love story in the Fleeting Dreams light novel talks about Rido’s obsession with Juri and gives some info on their past. However, when compared to the original VK series there are several points that don’t add up, and some parts of the light novel simply make no sense.

First, Both VKM and the light novel mention that Rido killed his parents and presumably devoured them to take their powers. That makes sense, it seems like something he would do. What doesn’t make sense to me is the timeline. When exactly did he kill his parents? 

All the light novel tells us is that he killed them immediately after they engaged him to Shizuka. Is this around the time Haruka and Juri got married? I always assumed Haruka and Juri have been married for a while, like at least 1000 years. If this is the case, within that time period, how can they not notice that their parents are dead and that their brother killed them? 

Or does their murder occur closer to the time Juri got pregnant? But this doesn’t make sense either because Rido referred to Shizuka as a “small child” when he killed his parents, and by the time Juri was pregnant with Yuki’s real brother, Shizuka was probably already at least one or two thousand years old. Unless Shizuka is much younger than we thought? So when exactly Rido kills his parents is quite the mystery.

Secondly, How did he kill his parents? 

I assume the older a pureblood, the more powerful they are. So how can he, by himself, kill his parents, both of whom are older and more powerful than him? I doubt his dad was a weakling because as former king of vampires, he should be quite powerful. In the light novel, it seems his parents were already wary of him and wanted to keep him away from Juri. Thus they wouldn’t completely let their guard down around him. And its not like Rido could carry around a hunter sword with him without it being noticed. Even if he was carrying something small like a dagger, his parents should have been able to overwhelm him in a fight since its 2 vs 1. 

Kaname has commented that “purebloods have equal powers, so they would only exhaust each other in battle”; basically it is hard to kill another pureblood unless you have some advantage (e.g. Shizuka being already wounded by Zero’s hunter gun). So the only logical way Rido can kill his parents is if he catches them off guard, such as when they are taking a centuries long slumber in the family mausoleum, basically doing what Sara did to Hanadagi. 

Thirdly, another point that makes no sense is that Rido in the light novel says:

“My parents had taken my precious Juri far away from me and made it so that we could never meet.” 

How exactly did his parents take Juri away and stop them from ever meeting again? Send her abroad with no intention of ever letting her return? And yet the manga clearly contradicts that, because Rido is still in contact with Haruka and Juri, he was there to see their firstborn baby!

Fourthly, this is a small detail that has always irked me: In the manga, when Yuki’s brother peed on him, Rido mentions that he used to change his siblings’ diapers when they were babies. 

However the light novel kind of contradicts that, because young Rido upon being called in to meet his baby sister says: “I will confess that newborns seemed very uninteresting to me at that time”; does this sound like an older brother that would change his younger siblings’ diapers? It sounds like a guy who would leave baby care to the nannies and stay far away from soiled diapers. 

Finally, we get to the biggest illogical point in the light novel: Rido was a psychopath that just randomly developed an obsession upon seeing the newborn Juri.

“ It was in that moment – somewhere in the depths of my being – something abruptly flared to life. […] I was overwhelmed by the urge to devour her.”

No normal person just out of the blue feels the urge to consume a baby, only crazy people do. The rest of the light novel story continues depicting Rido as a psychopath. Their parents notice there is something wrong with their son because the mom slaps Rido and starts to keep him away from Juri. Adding on to this portrayal of him as batshit crazy, after he (somehow) kills his parents, he says the following:

“That’s what you get for getting in my way, you naughty things…” 

LOL, who in their right mind would call their parents “naughty things”?

My issue is this: I highly doubt Rido was crazy from the start, because it would make no sense. If Rido was crazy, how the hell could Juri and Haruka not have noticed for over 3000 years?! Even the dumbest person would get a clue that their brother was crazy after just 30 years, much less 3000 years. They trusted him enough to let him hold their baby, so they clearly believed Rido was not crazy. There is no way that Juri and Haruka were that stupid and blind. Thus, I doubt that Rido was crazy at the start of his life. So, this aspect of the light novel is just total BS to me.

IF Rido really was crazy from the start, then his mom and dad were bad parents. Yes, it makes sense to keep Juri away from Rido if he really were a psychopath, but their other actions were just extremely irresponsible and selfish. If you know your son is dangerous, maybe you should address this issue properly. After all, he is a pureblood and if you don’t deal with the problem, there will be huge repercussions for everyone given the destructive powers of purebloods. 

But instead of taking their son to see a mental health professional like any decent parent would do, Papa and Mama Kuran decided to solve the problem by engaging him off to a “tiny child”. I’m no parenting expert, but I’m sure if your son has mental issues, you definitely should NOT marry him off to any girl. Even if they didn’t get him some help, they should have at least locked him up like Shizuka to ensure he didn’t harm anyone... but they just let him roam free.

If this is the extent of their problem-solving ability, then it’s for the best that they ended the monarchy because they must have been cruddy rulers. But who knows, I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe they believed the “tiny child” they chose for him has a PhD in psychology and can provide their son with the help he clearly needs. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway, I consider the light novel to be only pseudo-canon since it was inspired by Hino but written by someone else (Ayuna Fujisaka), so I will just ignore the parts that don’t make sense and keep the parts that do.

                                                              XXX

This following section is what I believe Rido to have been like when he was a (sane) young man, based on the info in the manga and the few bits that do make sense in the light novel.

Since Rido was the oldest son and born in a time when the Kurans were still the ruling family, he probably grew up with a lot of pressure and expectations as he was the crown prince. Given these conditions, he was most likely serious and hardworking, doing his best to live up to those expectations and preparing to be the next king (kinda like Eins in The Royal Tutor LOL).

He was also probably a bit older than Haruka and Juri (because according to the manga he has experience changing their diapers and taking care of them). And since he was probably busy with his princely duties, he did not spend a bunch of time with his siblings and thus Haruka and Juri were naturally closer to one another than Juri was to him. She probably saw him a respected older brother but not as reachable and easy to connect to as Haruka.

Rido was probably arrogant, possessive, and entitled even at the start (though at much milder levels than towards the end), which makes sense given his background. Not only was he a pureblood, but the crown prince too. And since he was prince, he probably had to deal with the dog-eat-dog world of politics from a young age, so that probably made him more cynical and darker than his siblings who had much less pressure and responsibility. It would almost be shocking if he was a humble and kind person instead.

Anyway, according to the custom of primogeniture, both the throne and Juri should have been his. Since it was tradition of the Kurans to marry their siblings, it only makes sense that as the oldest son and legitimate heir, he was the one that Juri should have married. Yet for whatever reason, their dad decided to end the monarchy, which must have been a huge blow to Rido who spent his whole life preparing to be the next king. He probably drove himself to despair questioning why and if there was something wrong with him that his father would pull such a move.

Then Rido probably got another big slap to the face: Juri choosing to marry Haruka instead of him, with his parents probably giving them their blessings. So not only has he lost the throne, he also lost the fiancée that should have been his according to precedent. And Juri choosing Haruka probably made Rido lose face among their society, since people would naturally wonder why Juri spurned tradition and married the second son instead.

(Actually, it wouldn’t matter if the monarchy getting dissolved took place first or if Juri choosing Haruka took place first, the point is both happened and it screwed him up.)

Rido most likely didn’t love Juri, but simply believed he did. He probably conflated Juri with what he lost/ what should have been his by birthright and became unhealthily obsessed with the idea of her. It didn’t help that the one Juri chose was Haruka, who we know has a mild and kind personality. To someone like Rido, those are traits probably considered “weak”, and thus he probably never thought of Haruka as his rival. Therefore, the fact that he lost to Haruka of all people shocked him, and there might have been some anger and sorrow at being betrayed by a sibling. So anyway, Rido’s emotions as well as his ego got clobbered.

But fate is not done with him yet! His parents most likely decided to engage him to Shizuka “without his consent” around the time that Haruka and Juri got engaged/married. They might have rushed to engage him off to whoever was available at that time (unluckily for Shizuka it happened to be her), hoping to get him out of the way of his siblings’ happiness. Rido probably was pissed, since not only does he not get to choose his new fiancée, the one chosen for him hails from a clan with a history of supposedly going insane, instead of someone with a less problematic pedigree. His parents really doing him dirty lol.

I think he really had some deep-rooted problems with his parents. Sometimes parents just don’t like their child, because of personality and ideological differences…Anyway, they were definitely in a strained relationship which would explain why Rido could go so far to kill his own parents and feel no guilt over it.

                                                                XXX

Finally, towards the end of his life he really just lost it.

Rido probably tried to keep up appearances and act like everything is okay and that his world is not falling apart, thus allowing Juri and Haruka to still trust him. But over the years he just stewed in his anger against his parents, his siblings and the world in general and turned into a very bitter and hateful person on the inside. And although he probably tried to suppress his growing darkness, his bad traits got amped up while his better traits died. It was probably extremely infuriating for him to see his siblings so happy in their pink glittery world while he himself was drowning in darkness.

(Even Kaien was annoyed by Haruka and Juri’s “pink world”, imagine an already salty and bitter Rido seeing this type of scene for centuries and just frothing with rage on the inside LOL)

So Rido became a sadistic ass towards the end, taking his anger out on people that have nothing to do with it. He tried to make Shizuka miserable and force her to be docile and had no luck with that but succeeded in breaking Senri’s mom and driving the poor woman crazy. Though if you think about it, in a way he did succeed in breaking Shizuka too… he caused her lover’s death and when she lost her lover, she basically lost her will to live.

Hino showed how talented Rido is at antagonizing others. While he possessed Senri, he intentionally hurt Senri’s body to toy with Takuma.

Even after his death, his dregs were tormenting Kaname by pointing out all his inner concerns, taunting Kaname about how he has no hope left. 

In VKM, Yuki mentions Rido as someone “with overwhelming desires that only plunge the world around [him] into misery.” Overall, Rido probably got his giggles by making others miserable.

Besides getting high off ruining the lives of other people, he was just a bastard in general. He used everyone around him as tools, even his own sons. Unlike Shizuka or Kaname, he did not care about his subordinates at all, to him they were just “appetizers” and expendables. He also had zero reservations about forcing lower vampires to submit to his will.

Anyway, Rido probably was already a bitter jackass but he really snapped when he found out Juri was pregnant and would start a happy little family with Haruka. Maybe he was idiotically holding onto hope that as long as Juri didn’t have a kid, he still had a chance? Regardless, it was at that point that he gave up any vestiges of humanity he had left and decided to just pursue power instead.

With no hope left he just decided to give in to his primitive instincts and lust after power, at the expense of family ties. In a way, he might have felt betrayed by his family, and reasoned with himself that unlike the throne and Juri, at least power won’t be stolen away.

BTW, I think his decision to sacrifice Yuki’s real brother to ancestor Kaname was spontaneous and not premeditated. After all, crazy people are unlikely to plan things in advance and just do as their whims dictate...

Maybe it came to him right when he stared at Juri holding her newborn. 

“It’s such irony that this baby was named ‘Kaname’ like you. That’s what got me started thinking of this.”

Because his plan (if he had one) sucked. He should have known that the famished, revived ancestor would attack him, since the blood of a tiny baby was clearly not enough. And yet he made no preparations to fend off such an attack and ended up getting drained by Kaname.

As a side note, Haruka could have killed Rido right then, when Rido was badly wounded by ancestor Kaname. 

But he didn’t, and chose to have Rido imprisoned by the Senate instead. Haruka should have known that Rido would never give up on destroying his family as long as he lived, so the logical thing would have been to kill him. Even Rido mentions this later when he returned for Yuki.

While Haruka’s pacifist nature played a part in this, I think he also restrained himself from giving in to vengeful rage partly out of the fact that they are family, and more likely out of guilt. Perhaps Haruka had always felt guilty for marrying Juri and realized that he was partly responsible for driving Rido insane.

Anyway, Rido crossed the line by killing a helpless baby and basically burned all his bridges. At this point he didn’t really give any fucks anymore. 

Asato mentions how Rido was like a child, even though he has lived so long. I think the analogy fits, because Rido acted like a child throwing a tantrum, trying to destroy everything and doing whatever he pleased with no regard for consequences or others.

In a sense, like Shizuka, Rido had already lost his will to go on living. The only thing keeping him hanging on was the need to lash out. Even though he acted like he was pursuing greater power, aiming to consume Kaname and Yuki to become more powerful, he wasn’t actually trying. 

If he was serious, he would not have gotten easily distracted, suddenly deciding to have Yuki replace Juri instead of continuing with the plan to devour her. Rido also didn’t bother trying to fight seriously at the end and Zero comments on this.

Otherwise Zero and Yuki together could not have beaten him, given how Rido is much older/powerful and consumed at least 2 other purebloods. Even Sara said that Rido was acting foolishly reckless, saying he was just having fun.

                                                             XXX

Overall, given this interpretation of Rido, I actually feel bad for him. I believe that he drove himself crazy wondering why his parents ended the monarchy instead of letting him be the next king, and wondering why Juri chose Haruka over him. Those questions probably haunted him for centuries.

That feeling that you tried your best, did everything you were supposed to, but still ended up with nothing is something I can relate to. Sometimes one just wants to watch the world burn given how unjust life usually is (even though logically we know it is wrong to feel this way). So yeah, these are my headcanons and analysis of Rido, who I prefer to see as a deeper/more interesting character than just a sis-con psychopath LOL.

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #27

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: Greatest thanks to @carewyncromwell for being the best beta reader ever and knowing my characters better than I do! <3 Also, please don't be mad with me, okay? *ducks from angry Charlie fans*

Word Count: ~ 3.100

_________________________________________________

Chapter 26: Skewed Perceptions

To distract herself from her mind crushing thoughts, Lizzie wandered the sunny grounds for some time. She had no particular destination in mind but it was still too early to meet Charlie at the Reserve and the thought of returning to the castle made her feel positively sick. All that was waiting for her there were Rowan, the nasty rumours and the judging stares of her peers. The thought alone had her throat tightening; out here, under the open sky, she at least felt like she could breathe more freely.

The fresh air and sunshine helped restore her physical energy, but Lizzie didn’t feel better at all. She had no eye for the budding flowers lining the pathways or the blinking of the sun on the surface of the Black Lake. All she could focus on was keeping the broken pieces of her heart together. Orion had looked so resigned when she had informed him of her decision, and even though he had been quick to keep himself in check, the flash of disappointment shining in his eyes hadn’t been lost on her.

Every time she thought of him, the longing for his company grew almost unbearable. The realisation of what she had thrown away before it could even have a chance to begin threatened to suffocate her.

Lizzie was blinking back the tears that just didn’t want to stop welling up in her eyes, but she refused to cry any more of them. She had brought this upon herself after all and had done the right thing in the end. Maybe the pain tearing at her insides was the just punishment for all the lies she had told to the ones she supposedly held so dear.

After some more aimless wandering, Lizzie directed her steps towards the Creatures Reserve. She had just passed Hagrid’s hut, when the faint sound of her name had her stop and turn around.

Skye was jogging down the steps that led back to the castle. Apparently, Penny’s Pepper-Up Potion had finally kicked in; Skye was looking a lot fresher than before; her face had a healthy colour from running and her movements were full of her typical vigour, a stark contrast to Lizzie’s sorry state. But she highly doubted any potion in the world would have helped her feel better anyway.

“Jameson,” she shouted again as soon as she was within earshot. She quickly caught up with Lizzie, her breath not even unsteady. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Well, now you found me,” Lizzie answered wryly, not really in the mood for a conversation. She hadn’t seen Skye since that morning, when she had shut a door in her face to keep her from prying.

Skye put her hands to her hips and looked her up and down. “We need to have a word.”

Lizzie couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Seems like I’m doing nothing but talking today.”

“You’re going to tell me what the hell’s going on right now,” Skye huffed, bluntly ignoring Lizzie’s sarcasm. “Rowan and Penny are acting all weird and I heard that moron Everett talking shit about you in the Common Room.”

Her green eyes flashed angrily. “Gave him a bloody piece of my mind. He’s been badmouthing you all over the school, it seems.”

Relief washed over Lizzie at hearing Skye’s words. Of course, having a teammate spreading stories about her was awful, but at least it hadn’t been Rowan’s work after all. Lizzie felt yet another pang of guilt at having suspected her in the first place.

“What did he say?” she sighed. She did have a good guess, but wanted to hear it from Skye herself.

“He said you’ve been messing with Weasley and the captain at the same time.” She snorted in disgust as she continued. “Called you a few very nasty things as well, but I’m pretty sure he won’t repeat those anymore.”

Lizzie rubbed her temples; the pain hammering behind them was starting to come back at her words, spreading down into her jaw and neck. “Do I even want to know what you did?”

Skye’s expression didn’t even flinch. “Probably not; so please tell me risking eternal detention was justified and he’s deranged and made everything up.”

Lizzie felt like she was being caught in a continuous loop when she replied with a vague “Well, kind of.”

Skye’s eyes went wide and her face quickly changed colour. ”What do you mean, kind of?!” she gasped incredulously and gripped Lizzie’s shoulders. Her headache was intensifying quickly as Skye started shaking her.

“Relax; not like you think,” she hurriedly replied to calm Skye’s panic. “There’s nothing going on between Charlie and me. No meddling outside of the team, don’t worry,” she couldn’t help but add sardonically.

Skye was silent for a moment as she let the information sink in. Her eyes narrowed. “So that was Orion’s coat this morning?”

Lizzie bit her lip and as she wound herself out of Skye’s grasp. “Do you really need an answer?”

But Skye wasn’t having any of it and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You bet.”

With a sigh, Lizzie started recounting what had happened after she had left her and Penny at the party yesterday for the second time. With how often the scenes had played in her mind, it felt like close to the hundredth time, though.

Skye’s jaw dropped at the same rate that Lizzie grew more miserable. It felt like poking into an open wound that had just stopped bleeding again and again.

When Lizzie reached the point where Rowan had caught her and Orion kissing – the thought alone sent her emotions into overdrive again and had her cheeks blush dark red even now – the sympathy on Skye’s face quickly turned to worry, flowing seamlessly into something resembling a mild panic. It was only then, when she felt the tears trickling down her face, that Lizzie realised she was crying again.

She wiped at her eyes angrily but it was no use; the tears were spilling down her cheeks and she couldn’t help the sobs shaking her body.

Lizzie didn’t recall having cried in front of Skye ever before; up until when Skye had opened up to her about her father, they had never gotten so personal before. They would have rather cheered each other up straight away, than ride out their breakdowns together. It felt like crossing an invisible line; neither of them was used to comforting the other through some serious heartache.

“Blimey, Liz…” Her tone was unnaturally uncertain. She laid her hand on Lizzie’s back in an awkward motion and started patting it clumsily.

Lizzie had cried so much already, she was honestly sick of it; Skye’s crude attempts at cheering her up made her smile despite herself. She straightened her shoulders and wiped her eyes; Skye was visibly relieved to see her regain her composure.

“I’m alright, don’t worry. Thank you for standing up for me to Everett, in any case.”

Skye grinned and elbowed her into her side. “We’re mates after all, I’ll always have your back.”

Her smile faded a little as she continued cautiously. “So, what’s the deal with you and the captain now? It’ll rattle the team like hell, you know.”

“No, it won’t, whatever happened between him and me isn’t going anywhere; I had to promise Rowan.”

“Oh,” was all Skye managed as a reply, the wind taken out of her speech on team ethics before she had even begun. She was clearly looking for the right words to say but didn’t find any.

“Perhaps it’s better for all of us that way,” she finally said.

When Lizzie raised her eyebrows doubtingly, she quickly clarified, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m really, truly sorry for you guys, but I told you there’s a reason the Pro League wants their players to stay on friendly terms. Getting involved messes with the head.”

Another grin formed on her face, looking maybe a bit too jaunty, but Lizzie knew she was doing her best to cheer her up.

“Look on the bright side, Jameson; now that that’s out of the way, we all can completely focus on smashing Gryffindor and finally get our hands on that bloody Cup. You’ll see, no feelings, no distractions.”

*

Lizzie’s head was still spinning from Skye’s words as she finally made her way to the Creatures Reserve. Usually, she would have dismissed Skye’s attitude with an eyeroll or a snarky comment, but she couldn’t help the thought that perhaps this time Skye was right.

It was not like her situation could get any worse, so why not put her focus on something that she could actually control for a change?

She found Charlie right at the edge of the Forbidden Forest; he was sitting on the ground surrounded by an assortment of Wiggentrees, several Bowtruckles climbing up and down his back, shoulders and outstretched arms.

When he saw her approach, he gently placed them back onto their branches and got up with a warm smile.

“Hey Shortcake, how did it go?”

Her mind was still preoccupied with processing everything that had gone down since she had last seen him, so Lizzie didn’t immediately catch on with Charlie’s meaning. “What?”

“You said you wanted to get to the root of the talking, remember?”

“Oh yeah, right,” she mumbled absentmindedly. She had totally forgotten about what had made her seek out Rowan in the first place. “According to Skye, it was Everett, our moron of a Beater.”

Confused, Charlie tilted his head. “Why would he do that?”

Lizzie could only shrug; to be perfectly honest, she was past caring at this point. “He’s jealous, I guess; he couldn’t land with me when tried, so that’s probably his comeback now.”

“But why tell you’re with me?”

“Because it’s the best way to get back at me and Orion at the same time,” she sighed. “He can’t stand the fact that I prefer someone else to him.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “As if he had ever been an option.”

“I know he’s your teammate and all but, damn, what a bloody jerk,” Charlie huffed. “He’d better learn to live with his injured pride now that you and Amari are finally going places.”

Much to his surprise, Lizzie’s face fell at his words. “No, we aren’t,” she declared with a defeated voice. “I called things off with him for Rowan,” she explained at Charlie’s astonished expression.

“I’m really sorry to hear that.” His face softened with sympathy at Lizzie’s apparent distress. “How do you feel now? Do you want to talk about it?”

Lizzie knew she would start crying again if she had to dissect her feelings one more time, even if she knew Charlie genuinely cared. So she swallowed the lump building in her throat, straightened her shoulders and put on the most light-hearted smile she could muster.

“I’m alright; it was the right thing to do in the end,” she stated with a firm voice.

Charlie’s eyes didn’t leave her face for a second. “Are you sure? You know you can always talk to me, I’m here for you.”

When she shook her head, he offered her a tentative smile. “What are you going to do now? Things are bound to get really weird, aren’t they?”

Lizzie groaned; she hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “I don’t even know how to look Orion in the face at the moment; just imagine how awkward Quidditch practise is going to be from now on.”

“Well, I can’t complain too much about that tight-knit team of yours getting rattled,” Charlie winked jokingly in an attempt to cheer her up; he couldn’t stand Lizzie looking so miserable. “Maybe that’s exactly the advantage we need against you in the final.”

He knew immediately his joke had been misplaced when he saw the incredulity forming on Lizzie’s face.

“Good to hear at least someone knows how profit from my heartache,” she hissed at him. Her eyes had narrowed dangerously and her whole posture was suddenly tense. Where she had been downcast but still relaxed before, she now radiated an angry, aggressive energy.

“Woah, hold on, it was only a joke.” Charlie raised his hands defensively but Lizzie continued glaring at him.

“It’s not a joke to me!” she exclaimed, her raised voice scaring the Bowtruckles further into their trees in a scurry. Her eyes were flashing furiously; all the frustration and suppressed anger at herself, Rowan and the whole situation was breaking it’s way at Charlie’s expense.

Charlie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s even going on? I thought you said you were alright?”

“I am alright!” she shot back immediately. “The only thing not alright is you being perfectly happy about this shipwreck of a situation.”

Before he could stop himself, a disbelieving laugh escaped his mouth; Lizzie’s accusation was too absurd. “What in Godric’s name are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?”

But Lizzie was working herself into a rage. “Oh, come on Charlie,” she huffed, “both of us know you don’t like Orion and never have. But now you don’t have to worry anymore, nothing is going change any time soon; you’ll have me all to yourself.”

“Stop being so full of yourself, girl; arrogance doesn’t suit you much. This is not true and you know it.”

He had never seen Lizzie so livid before. He regretted having made his joke in the first place, but her aggressive tone was starting to make him angry as well.

“Is it?” she sneered. “That’s exactly the reason why I didn’t tell you anything in the first place. I knew you’d never understand, all you care about is us playing with magical creatures for the rest of our school years. But that’s not how it goes, Charlie; things are changing, people are changing!”

Her words hurt him more than she could possibly know. “All I ever did was support you and set your head straight when you needed it,” he responded through clenched teeth.

“Yes, tell that to yourself,” she snorted dismissively. “I thought you were my friend, but instead of showing a bit of compassion, you have nothing better to do than to make fun of me, while everything actually suits you perfectly!”

He felt his face go red at her accusation. “I can’t believe you’re saying that! As if I’d ever be capable of playing you like that; you’re my best friend!”

His voice had grown considerably louder as well; they were facing each other now, both of their eyes shooting daggers. Charlie couldn’t remember a single time he and Lizzie had screamed at each other.

Now, as she was looking him up and down, her beautiful face twisted into an angry sneer, he almost shuddered at the coldness in her eyes. “Your best friend, huh? I’m not so sure about that one right now.”

Charlie had heard enough. “You know what, Lizzie? Maybe you’re right, maybe people are changing. I feel like I don’t know you anymore these days.”

She flinched at hearing her actual name out of his mouth; Charlie almost never called her anything but affectionate nicknames.

He gathered his bag from the ground and slung it over his shoulder in a furious motion, not even trying to conceal his hurt and disappointment anymore.

“You have changed a lot this year, but certainly not for the better. You want to get rid of these rumours?” He barked a humourless laugh that echoed back from the dark trees. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure people won’t see us together anymore.”

With that, he pushed past her and left her standing alone amongst the scared looking Bowtruckles.

Lizzie immediately regretted lashing out at him, all of her anger blowing out in an instant. The hurt in Charlie’s voice was palpable, every word feeling like a slap to her face. It was bringing her back to her senses.

“Charlie, wait!”

But he was already rounding the corner of the path leading back to the castle without so much as looking back at her.

She wanted to run after him and apologise, but she knew it would have been pointless. There was no use in arguing with Charlie when he was angry; he needed time to cool off first before she had a chance to get through to him again.

Lizzie stared at the bend in the path where he had vanished out of her sight. Charlie had been the only one of her friends who had stuck with her all the time, not even judging her once, and she had nothing better to do than let her frustration out on him.

Feeling suddenly deflated, Lizzie leaned against the nearest Wiggentree and closed her eyes. If it wasn’t for the pain still gnawing at her head, she would have been convinced all of this was nothing but a nightmare. But she knew she wouldn’t wake up out of this one.

When she felt a slight tickling against her cheek, she opened her eyes again and looked down to find one of the Bowtruckles had climbed from his branch onto her shoulder. It was raking its long, spindly fingers against her face and looked at her curiously, probably hoping for a little snack.

Lizzie held her hand out and the little creature started climbing it, wandering up her arm onto her other shoulder. She watched it absentmindedly as she thought about how many of her friends she had managed to disappoint in less than a full day.

She had betrayed Rowan’s trust; she had turned away from Orion without even giving him a say in the matter; she had ignored all of Skye’s warnings and probably plunged their team into disarray; and now she had deeply hurt Charlie by unfairly questioning his motives.

Lizzie buried her hand deep in her pockets after she had set the Bowtruckle back onto its branch and reluctantly turned her steps back towards the school.

Her eyes being firmly fixed onto the ground, she tried to ignore the scattered groups of students enjoying the beautiful weather as she was nearing the castle gates. On a normal day, she would have been among them, enjoying some downtime with her friends, eagerly looking forward to their final match in pursuit of the Cup. She couldn’t have felt further from this normality she craved like nothing else.

All of a sudden, she felt very alone.

[milktaru]

MAFIA AU! - Jaehyuk

Treasure’s Jaehyuk - “They don’t need to know” + “Why can’t I get you out of my head?” + “Do you want that?”

🖋 requested by @no1nas

Theme: mafia au!, it’s angsty but not super heart breaking, honestly i got carried away it’s kind of long (ooops)

Warnings: mentions of blood, weapons, violence, wall pining (but not smutty enough to be considered smut lol)

a/n: yes, it is a treasure mafia au. i saw the opportunity and I took it. sorry not sorry 

Fear is an insidious feeling. It starts nearly imperceptible; as it didn’t even exist. Then, it suddenly thrives until it feels tangible and maddening.  

The metallic pistol you are carrying on your left hand resonates with your fear. It is bitter, cold, and burning. If you try hard enough, you can taste the metal and despair on your tongue.

The dreadful feeling creeps on your fingertips, like a delicate but cunning touch. It crawls up your arms, spreading through your neck, your collarbones, finally arriving in your heart. It rushes into your atrium, diving deep in your soul as the last blow.

As you get closer to your target, the beautiful young man tied to the old wooden chair in your basement, the fear and you become one. The man squirms and tries to cry for help, but you are apathetic.

The fear is the predator, and you are his prey.  

Growing up as part of the reckless mafia, you always knew your destiny was arranged marriage.

There were a ton of families for your father to choose from. You could get settled with the son of the Kanemoto family, who had just assumed the head of the mafia after his father's passing.  Or, it could be with the son of the So family; although your father always referred to him as the “too shy and scared boy”. Even worse, your father might prefer the son of the Takata family. You hated this option because their son was too loud and boisterous for your liking.  

Well, if the decision were up to you, you would definitely prefer the Yoon family.

Your parents were friendly with the Yoon family, and you had spent your childhood playing tag and hide and seek with the only two sons of the Yoon mafia: Jaehyuk and his older brother.

You appreciated both of the Yoon’s prodigies. They were pleasant, sympathetic, and treated you with much respect. It is true; however, that you were closer to Jaehyuk; in age and in personality. Jaehyuk’s older brother was equally nice, but he was three years older than you and a little bit more reserved and nonchalant.

The contrast between the two brothers got even more discernible in your teenage years. You and Jaehyuk loved to talk about your dreams: traveling the world, stargazing at the highest peak of Earth (so you could touch the stars!), and rescuing abandoned cats. Jaehyuk’s older brother, on the other hand, was too busy with the role of Mafia’s successor and had no desire to daydream.

Metaphorically, his older brother was a fighter, whereas you and Jaehyuk were more of the lovers type.

On your 17th birthday, you realized that maybe Jaehyuk was more than just a childhood friend. He could also be your real lover.

The sound of loud voices competing for dominance, glass and bottles clinking, and nicotine smell was making you dizzy. After one night of standing still on your high heels and serving as the mafia new toy, you earned to take off your tight and impractical dress and take a nap till the end of the week.  

“She’ll grow up to be a fine woman.” You heard one of the capos of the Grazzi family saying.

“And a great wife too,” his henchmen said while opening one more bottle of alcohol.

Oh, god. It was disgusting. You wanted to roll your eyes at those types of comments. Heck, you wanted to scream and cry and even throw some punches. However, you knew better than to make a scene. The last thing you wanted was to piss off your vicious father.

Glancing sideways to your mother, absorbed in a deep conversation with another lady, you were ready to apologize and go back to your room. You stopped mid-action when you heard Jaehyuk calling you from the back of the ballroom.  His silhouette barely showing, covered by the deep shadows that the blue lightening in the room provided.

You sneaked towards him, hoping no one would notice your escapade from the humiliating social gathering.

“You’re beautiful tonight" -  he greeted you, taking your right hand and caressing it slowly with his thumb - “ you always are.”

You answered him with a faint smile. You wish you could say more, but the birthday party made you exhausted.

As if he read your mind, Jaehyuk made you an offer, “Would this dazzling lady do me the honor of getting the hell out of this place?”

You chuckled, nodding while looking around you. Happily, no one appeared to be paying attention to your little agreement. You let Jaehyuk guide you towards the empty and dark gardens outside the ballroom.

As you got there, you both got lost in comfortable silence, gazing at the night sky and enjoying each other’s company. Jaehyuk’s smooth skin glowed with the moonlight. Although he was a member of the mafia, to you he would always be your enchanted prince, ready to rescue you.

Bravely, Jaehyuk broke the quietness by holding your face between his hands.

“I’ve been thinking about our childhood these days, all the things we’ve done together, and how much we've grown up “- he stammered, searching your eyes for some form of reassurance - “To be honest, I've been thinking a lot about you these days.”

He swallowed hard, letting his stare run from your eyes to your plump lips, “Why can’t I get you out of my head?”

At his confession, your heart beat harder inside your ribcage as it desired to slip out and run away. At that moment, you understood that if you could not achieve freedom in your life, at least you would allow your heart to be free.

And you knew what your heart craved: the handsome, young, and brave man in front of you, still waiting for an answer. So, you came closer to him and lightly tiptoed, reaching for his lips. 

On your 17th birthday, Jaehyuk gifted you your first kiss.

After that day, all of your other firsts would be with him too. And, just like he had experienced, you would never be able to get the thought of him out of your head.

When you completed twenty springs, your father announced it was time for you to get married. According to him, there was no sense in wasting money with a daughter if she was going to stay at home and be as useless as rotting fruit.  

Leaving your home was not your worst nightmare. When you were with your family, this was exactly how you felt: like rancid, decaying fruit. Not much could be worse than having to put up with your authoritative and sexist father every day.  

As you got closer to your secretive fiancé's home, you started to squirm nervously in your car seat. However, all the nervousness left your body when you finally arrived. You knew the facade of the house; you recognized  the gardens on the front because you spent your childhood playing there.

It was the Yoon mansion.

Yes, it was a logical and somewhat predictable choice: your families were already close, and your marriage with Jaehyuk would strengthen the bond. 

You entered the huge house peacefully. It seemed like a dream to be able to marry the man you loved.

Each stride you took towards the dining room felt like a step closer to freedom. You elegantly took your seat at the dining table, observing Mrs. Yoon’s immaculate porcelain plates and intricate table cloth.

When your eyes finally found Jaehyuk, his face was not that of a man about to marry his beloved.  His eyes were wide, his skin pale as he had just taken a fright. His whole body expression screamed despair.

You tried to understand what was going on. Why was Jaehyuk not happy? Did he not love you?

Jaehyuk was fidgety, his body faintly curved towards the exit. He wouldn’t stop peering at you, almost as he wished to send you a message.

 Mr. Yoon cut your line of thought, standing up proudly and lifting his cup filled with the most expensive drink of his collection, “I would like to propose a toast to our crucial alliance with the YLN family.”

You felt your father lifting his cup from your left side, beaming with equal pride.

Mr. Yoon continued his toast with a loud, commanding voice, “And, of course, let us toast to Y/N’s marriage with our oldest son.”

You once read in a book that there are moments in life in which time stops. But you had never experienced it.

That's it, until that announcement.

You lifted your cup robotically, and equally as roboticaly you got through the rest of the meal. You never once took your focus out of your plate because if you did and met Jaehyuk’s stare, you knew you would break.

Run.

Run.

Run.

You complied with the only command in your head. After taking a bathroom break before dessert, running was what you did. It seemed there was nothing else to be done other than succumb to your most primal wishes. 

Your legs hurt, your breathing was shallow, and you had no idea on what floor or corridor of the enormous Yoon mansion you were. You just knew you felt the need to run as your life depended on it. 

Not even a meal had passed after you lost Jaehyuk and your chance to be happy, but your heart already felt ripped into shreds.

Too stuck in your deranged mind, you failed to notice someone grabbing your arm and pulling you into a small room. Your captor’s hand was cold, and you tried your best no to scream and let your father discover you were not in the bathroom as you promised. 

At the same time, it was agonizing and soothing to recognize that the cold hand holding your arm belonged to Jaehyuk. Looking at your prince, you felt the strong urge to cry. 

How could life be so unfair and cruel? How could it torture your soul so mindlessly? Maybe the universe was laughing at you both. Maybe, it was the star’s plan all this time - gifting you with consuming love, letting it bloom inside your hearts, and then plucking it as if it was weed in a farm field. 

“Baby, ” Jaehyuk gasped in between passionate and messy kisses he placed on your lips. “it’s okay. We won’t let them separate us.”

He’s too desperate to care about your surroundings. You trip on the carpet, hitting your back with a loud thud on the cold wall. Jaehyuk pins you to the wall, not wanting to separate your bodies. 

“They don’t need to know,” he murmurs.  

Like every terrible plan ever made, at that moment that idea seemed great.

It took two short months for Jaehyuk’s older brother to discover that the glances shared between you and his brother weren’t only out of cordiality. 

He was mad, of course. But, not hurt. 

Honestly, he couldn’t care less about you. He didn’t mind if you did not like him. Also, he didn’t mind that you refused to sleep with him on your honeymoon on the Yoon’s family country house. He could search for sexual pleasure in other places. Anyways, you weren’t even his type.

However, what made his blood boil was the fact that his younger brother had the petulance of stealing something from him. That was unforgivable.

Ever since childhood, he was meant to be the best, the successor of the family. He should have the best toys, the best devices, the best clothes, education, and grades. He was to be on top, and his younger brother (that fool!) could content himself with the second place. 

In his family, there would be no sharing. Never.

Little did Jaehyuk’s older brother knew, he committed his worst mistake when he decided to knock on your and Jaehyuk’s hideaway door. Holding pictures of your most intimate moments in his dirty and jealous hands, demanding you to stop your affair at that moment. Or else, he would tell the whole Family about your filthy secret.  

It is true, supposedly you and Jaehyuk were not the type to clash or engage in conflict. You were not fighters but lovers. 

Lovers - in all the meanings of the world. 

And love is a dangerous creature because when cornered and nudged, it feels threatened. Threatened love transforms itself in raw panic. And this panic, so ready to fight for its survival, converts into fear. 

And fear does not forgive.

“Do you want that?”

Jaehyuk reaches toward you with his left hand, touching your index finger, already settled in the trigger. His other hand holds his brother's head roughly. Jaehyuk wants to end this fast since he cannot take his brother squirming and struggling against the chains holding him in the chair anymore.

Although he would have pulled the trigger the moment you both carried his brother to the country’s house basement, he did not want you to regret a decision that could stain you forever.

He was patient, for you, and only you.

“Once you pull it, there is no turning back.” He analyzes your glossy, terrified eyes. “After this, we will probably have to run away.”

You are scared, yes. And you are also shaking, yes. But you couldn’t care less about the consequences of your actions anymore. You just want to be free and live the rest of your life with the man you truly love.

You can feel the heat of Jaehyuk’s hand creeping on your fingertips, like a delicate but cunning touch. It crawls up your arms, spreading through your neck, your collarbones, finally arriving in your heart. It rushes into your atrium, diving deep in your soul as the last blow.

Yes, you are love itself. And you are the fear.

Together, you and Jaehyuk pull the trigger. The bullet draws one straight and fixed-line, ripping through the man's glabella.

You do not need to look twice – he is dead and the chair holds now a souless body.

There is blood splattered everywhere – in the basement's ground, in your clothes, in Jaehyuk’s hands.

It is going to stain, but you do not give a fuck. The fighter is dead.

And the lovers are finally free.

[frodos-bizarre-adventure]

@gingerreggg whee writing motivation

Heads Up- Part 20 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

"I have so many questions!" Smokey asked demandingly as he looked at his unlikely cargo, who was now bouncing around the hideout no doubt wondering where he was.

"Yeah, sure," Caesar answered indifferently, more preoccupied with checking out the unfamiliar place he'd been taken to.

"How are you alive?" Smokey asked. "And like, how do you live, if you're, well...a head?"

"Look, kid, don't ask me how I'm alive, because I don't think it really matters. I just am, I guess, and I'm just making do with whatever life's given me."

These words struck Smokey.

"I know that feel, man," he said, somewhat apologetically.

"You've got arms and legs, so I suppose you don't," snapped Caesar back snarkily.

Smokey groaned. "No, not that way. I mean...I guess I've been dealt a bum deal by life too, I think. That's why I'm on the streets, making a living...I guess we ain't so different after all," he said, lamentingly.

"Well, if I were you, I wouldn't be out stealing stuff," Caesar answered, with a scolding tone in his voice.

"I SAID I'M SORRY!" Smokey yelled, before managing to catch his temper. "I- I mean I'm sorry," he repeated, this time softly and shyly. "I didn't mean to steal you, well...I guess I did mean to, but I was just after some goods and not something -- someone alive," he muttered, clearly perplexed by the implications of all this.

"Well, stealing's wrong either way, whether or not you stole a talking sculpture," Caesar retorted.

Smokey sighed. "I just needed some money, alright? I don't have a home to come back to. It ain't easy having to deal out in the streets. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do."

"And what are you gonna do now?" Caesar said, in a tone that harbored both scolding and regret.

"I...guess the only right thing to do is to take you home, then. Was that van Joseph's?" Smokey asked.

"No. They were...they were taking me away from him. He promised me he'd come back for me...but they took me away before he could." His nubby shoulders drooped sadly. "And there was nothing I could do about it."

Smokey gave a dry chuckle. "Then I guess me taking you from the van was a good thing after all."

"Hey! Don't try to sound like a good guy, kid," Caesar shot back. "You still stole me."

"Quit rubbing it in, head man," Smokey complained. "I'm trying to help you now."

A thought crossed Smokey's mind. "Hey, I don't wanna keep calling you 'head man', you got a name?"

Caesar hesitated to give out his name to the stranger, but felt that given they would be stuck with each other for a while, he figured he'd rather not be called by whatever pejoratives the kid made up.

"Caesar," he said reluctantly. "The name's Caesar."

"Smokey Brown," answered the young boy, holding out a hand. "Nice to meetcha."

Caesar glared exasperatedly at Smokey's outstretched greeting hand. "I have no hands, can't you see? You're a lot just like Joseph."

--------

Joseph rushed to the garage of the gallery, his heart pounding wildly within his chest.

He promised Caesar he would never lose him.

And now he was.

Suzi dashed behind him, trying to keep up with her distraught companion. "Jojo! Wait for me!"

"I can't lose him!" Joseph cried, as he burst into the garage, forcing the doors open with all the strength he could muster.

And to his horror, the garage was empty.

"They've left," Suzi muttered sadly.

"It can't be! I need to know where they went!" gasped Joseph as tears began to well up in his eyes.

He refused to let him go.

But now there seemed little hope. He made a promise and circumstance couldn't let him keep it. It was all so unfair.

Joseph angrily pounded his fists into the wall of the garage in frustration. He screamed skyward at no one in particular, at someone he knew couldn't hear him.

"CAESAAAAAAAAR!" he wailed to the heavens, tears of grief streaming from his eyes.

Thoughts of Caesar's whereabouts flashed through Joseph's head. Worst cases of what could have become of him. He was alone, and helpless, and a curio for the ill intentioned. Joseph shuddered at the possibilities of his fate.

Would he be taken apart by those who saw him not as a person but as an object to be poked and prodded? Would he be destroyed out of fear by someone who did not understand his bizarre, inhuman state?

He hoped not. But with something as unique as Caesar, who knew how the world might act?

Suzi stood by him reassuringly, handing him a handkerchief to wipe his tears. "Jojo," she said. "Jojo, I need you to calm down, alright? We will find him. And we will take him home."

Joseph glanced up at her from his position sitting on the floor, his eyes red and puffy from crying. "Thanks, Suzi. But where...where will we look?"

And as if on cue, a light flashed into the garage, catching both their attention.

It was Mark's van, returned so soon. Something felt wrong, Joseph knew at once. The auction gallery was a long way away. Something must have happened.

Joseph rushed out to the van as quickly as his feet could carry him. He rapped urgently at the window, and was greeted by the maintenance man's polite but distraught face.

"Where is he?" Joseph demanded, forgetting the pretense of Caesar's disguise.

"He? Who's he?" Mark asked, perplexed.

"I meant my sculpture," Joseph corrected impatiently. "There must have been some sort of mistake? I was supposed to take it home with me!"

Mark gave a distinct frown and Joseph's heart promptly felt heavy.

"You see, Mr. Joestar, there's been a problem," he explained uneasily, unable to look Joseph in the eye. "I'd gotten a flat tyre and left the back open..."

"...and it disappeared."

Joseph and Suzi's mouths dropped open in shock. "Disappeared?"

"Yes, sir, I think somebody took it."

Without warning, Joseph dashed to the passenger seat of the van and boarded the vehicle, ignoring Mark's protests. Suzi hesitated, but Joseph gestured urgently for her to get in, to which she relented and dove into the backseat.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Mark screamed as Joseph and Suzi buckled themselves in.

"Take us to where you'd lost him," Joseph demanded. "We need to get him back. Go!" he urged.

"All this for a sculpture?" Mark complained. "You're so obsessed with that weird head sculpture of yours!"

"It's more than just that to me," Joseph grumbled. "You'll never understand what that masterpiece means to me."

Deep down, Joseph felt like he looked deranged to outsiders. How would he explain that he loved his sculpture and felt closer to him than even a friend, without revealing Caesar was as alive as him and everyone else? He probably seemed like a complete nutjob obsessed with an inanimate object, he thought bitterly to himself.

It felt like a lose-lose scenario, of something dear to him that no one else would understand.

And yet his feelings for Caesar overwrote any of his anxieties about others' perception of his state of mind.

He was not giving up on Caesar.

Not by a long shot.

----------

It was well past midnight by the time Smokey made it back to the site of the car incident, carrying Caesar in tow.

Who weighed well more than what a young child was used to.

"Sheesh! You're heavy!" he complained to the bust.

"And you expect me to bounce all the way by myself?" Caesar countered.

"Well whoever made you didn't think it through!" Smokey snapped in return.

Caesar opened his mouth in an attempt to retaliate, but fell silent at the blow of words.

Had this kid just insulted Joseph in extension? Joseph who had made him in perfection?

And yet he had a point. Caesar depended on others. He could do very little on his own, after all. He was designed to be an ornament, not a rudimentary being struggling to his best to attain some level of human functionality.

What was he for, anyway, without Joseph?

Smokey felt a hint of guilt at hearing the bust's sudden, piercing silence.

"Hey there, I...I didn't mean it, 'kay? I'm sorry." he apologized. "Look, let's just try to get you back on the van, if it's still there--"

Smokey stopped in his tracks.

The van had disappeared.

"Great!" groaned a dismayed Caesar angrily. "How am I supposed to get home?"

"Look, if I can make it up to you," Smokey replied, "you could stay with me for a bit, I guess. It's late out, and I can help you find your maker tomorrow. I've got a shelter for now in the old warehouse, maybe some snacks--"

"I don't eat," Caesar explained. "I'm made of clay."

"More for me then," shrugged Smokey. "Come on, we better getcha inside. My arms are aching."

"Best if nobody sees me," Caesar added, as Smokey turned back down the alley and headed back to the makeshift shelter that was the closest he had to a home.

Caesar looked forlorn as Smokey set him down onto the dusty floor and sat down next to him. This strange kid was unfamiliar, and somewhat rash, but Caesar felt he could trust him.

He had to trust him. Because otherwise, he knew he might never see Joseph again.

----------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

[werejusttouchingeachother]

Dancer in the Dark

Req: Spin the wheel on a chase atlantic song and then make a fic about johnny with it

Pairing: witch!reader x devil!Johnny

Genre: smut (m), fantasy

Words: 3951

Tags: slightly Satanic, supernatural/fantasy!au, knife-play (slight blood), blowjob, oral (receiving), choking, fingering, penetration, bulging kink, mentions of anal, degradation kink, cursing

Song Inspiration:  Chase Atlantic – Dancer in the Dark

A/N: Dedicated to @itskirahyung​ for this absolutely delicious creative request that I went to fucking town with (as seen from the tags above lol) and yes, Chase-Atlantic-as-the-soundtrack-of-my-sex-tape agenda continues  

Johnny would never admit it but he was addicted to you for several reasons.

As one of the thirteen Princes of Hell, Johnny had a bounteous harem to sleep with. He definitely had a charm his brothers didn’t have—while they relied on their demonic seduction prowess, Johnny had women falling at his feet with one conversation.

With the others, the preyed women usually found it easier to write off the men as ‘assholes’ who ‘ghosted’ them after the ‘one-night stand’—whatever all that was.

But Johnny was different. He left a dent with the way he always had his prey wrapped around his fingers, charming his way into more than just their underwear—he broke hearts along the way.

Johnny hurt.

He knew it and he loved this.

Which was when he’d met you.

Well, met was probably the wrong term. You’d been having your monthly moonlit ritual when you lost control and drank more rum instead of pouring it into the potion. Trying to summon Lucifer himself, you’d grown aggravated when you’d ended up calling upon a ‘mere run-of-the-mill Prince’—a phrase that had pissed off Johnny to no end.

Until he realised that he’d met his match.

For as soon as he’d appeared, the first thing he had noticed after seeing you was the decapitated head you had near to the wolfsbane, nightshade and other peculiar items lying beside the cauldron.

You were a challenge. Stronger than any other witch he’d met, more psychotic that any woman he’d ever slept with, you were a force to be reckoned with. You didn’t bat your eyes at him nor did you blush at the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear.

Instead, when you felt his lingering touch on your hip, you’d immediately slammed him against the wall. Taken aback by your sheer force, the glint of insanity in your eyes and your blood-red lips curling into a smile that could only belong to a temptress, Johnny felt a twinge in his chest that he’d never experienced in all the centuries he’d been around.

And then, you’d pressed your lips to his.

Despite being too drunk for your own good, you could still recall the way you’d stolen his breath that night, the way you’d wondered how much a kiss from the Prince of Hell cost.

“Say, Prince,” you addressed him with a malice that gave him a slight chill at the word—he convinced himself it was because of the spiteful demeaning way you said it and not because your breasts were pressed up against him, the words whispered into his throat and your warm rum-smelling breath hitting his skin.

“Johnny, is it?” You’d grinned, running the tip of the still-bloodied dagger you’d used to behead your sacrifice down the demon’s pale throat. At his nonchalant hum in agreement, you prodded, “What’s your real name? The one dear Lucifer calls you by?”

Taken aback by your daring question—to a Prince of Hell, nonetheless—and maybe even slightly turned on by it, you don’t expect Johnny to grab your waist and spin the two of you around until you’re up against the wall with his body towering over you.

The quick movements had caused the blade to knick a long gash down his pale throat and you’d watched, mesmerised as the scar grew crimson, droplets pooling out.

“Devils don’t really make one-sided deals, sweetheart,” he’d muttered, completely unfazed by his wound as his twinkling eyes gazed down at you, his hands still on your waist. “Why don’t you tell me your maiden name, the one your Goddess knows you by and I’ll tell you mine?”

You’d grinned so hard at that, loving the fire in his eyes that were reflective of your own as you applied a bit more pressure on the dagger at his throat, leaning forward to lick the scar clean.

You didn’t have to summon him after that, neither intentionally nor by accident. He always visited you at your cabin or interrupted your rituals—although he disagrees since he just casually materialises in the shadows mid-incantations but your eyes immediately snap open when you feel his demonic aura interfere with the circle you create and he refuses to leave no matter how much you yell at him.

He watched you now as you washed the blood of your hands in the river—this one more pungent that the regular human. Tonight’s sacrifice had been a goat and it always irked Johnny that he wasn’t powerful enough to read your mind yet as to find out what was the exact purpose for all your rituals.

Why the goat today, why the human that day: ‘a witch never kills and tells,’ you’d laughed at his query the first time, winking playfully at him.  

He may be the Prince of Hell but you were your own High Priestess. He was The Darkness and you mastered in the powers lurking in that darkness. You answered to no one and you were deranged enough that no one dared question you.

Even though Johnny was certain that he could show you a great time in Hell—something he would prove if you gave him just one night on Earth.

“I may not be able to read your mind, Y/N,” Johnny said as he followed you back into your cabin, the wooden floorboards creaking below you as the two of you walked inside. “But I do know that you’re not completely repelled by me.”

“What gave you the impression that I am, dear Prince?” You drawled as you knelt, blowing out the circle of candles on the floor one by one.

He appeared right across from you then, crouching on the floor with the candles in between the two of you as his hand grasps your chin.

“The fact that you don’t let me take you,” he muttered, voice low and husky, the flame dancing and illuminating his face in a bright yellow glow.

You smile then, leaning forward on the floor and placing your hands on his knees as you reply, “Maybe it’s because you’re quite a gentleman for the son of Lucifer.”

He blinked at your words, surprised by the brashness as always. “I cannot make an advance on you unless you give me a sign, Priestess. I’m Satan’s child, I have to abide by my Father’s rules.”

“A sign, hm,” you hummed thoughtfully, wetting your lips in a purposeful manner that had his gaze directed there. “Don’t you know that witches are children of the Moon and when in darkness, that’s all the sign that you need?”

You blow out the candle.

Johnny’s hands burn hotter than the flames you’d just doused as they reach for you, searing your skin with a delicious intensity that already had you humming in pleasure. You both knock over the remaining candles between you as he crawls on top of you, mouth already finding yours. You smile lazily up at him as he sits up, his crotch against your heated core.

Johnny’s gaze is absolutely dark and sinister as his slender fingers tug on the criss-crossed laced-up strings holding your corset together—the material loosening around your chest with every pull until he yanks it off the last grommet.

“Prince,” the word falls from your lips with a sickly sweetness that usually annoys him because of how mockingly you say it but tonight he couldn’t care less as he stared down at you—your swollen lips, the flush that had crept up your cheeks and even your chest, the top of the swell of your smooth creamy breasts that were less restrained now with the loose dress.

“Let’s not take all night,” you reminded him at his slow movements, making him raise his eyebrow.    

He lowered his torso down at that, face hovering over yours as he gazed intensely into your eyes. Your breasts were pressed up right against his chest and you could feel your nipples growing erect at the contact as he breathed softly, “Have you ever been fucked by a demon, sweetheart?”

You scoff slightly at the ridiculous question and even before you can reply, Johnny continues, “Yes, you have. But unlike your ‘mere, run-off-the-mill’ demon, I will fuck you all night even if you beg me to stop.”

“Beg?” You repeat in incredulity, rolling your eyes. “You dream too much, dear—”

You stop as Johnny straightens himself again atop you, your silver dagger glinting in the dark as he holds it above your chest. Your heart jumps to your throat as he brings it down, eyes closing reflexively and lips biting back a scream.

And that’s when you hear the rip.

You open your eyes as Johnny drags the blade down your chest and stomach, the cool metallic tip leaving goosebumps in their wake on your skin as he completely rips the dress open, velvet and mesh falling to your sides as the chilly air hits your exposed skin.

Any other man would have drank in the sight of your naked body lying deliciously invitingly like a present that was just unwrapped but Johnny’s gaze is fixated on your eyes—the fear that had pooled in them right before he drew the dagger down, the way your pupils had dilated had him feeling more aroused and needy than he’d ever been.

You understand immediately since you can now feel his erection right against your bare mounds.

And fuck, you loved it.

Johnny grabs your face then, kissing you hungrily with his tongue thrusting into your mouth roughly. You bring your own hands up to hold him but they suddenly fly up like they’d been yanked behind you and you grunt in protest as you feel a bind around your wrists, restraining your arms.

Johnny pulls away to watch you squirm as you lean your head back to see there was nothing around your wrists—except for the powers of Satan’s spawn.

“Undo it,” you spit with barely restrained fury as you struggle but Johnny only smirks and you feel a tug on your arms, stretching them farther and you bite back a sound of discomfort—not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Address me as Prince, sweetheart,” he mutters, hands reaching for his pants as he straightens and crawls higher up your body. “For the first time, I want to hear it.”

You barely get to say a word as he all but shoves his enormous devil cock into your gaping mouth, pushing past your lips and immediately stuffing you.

You naturally choke, gagging around his length and glaring up at him with eyes prickling with tears. Johnny raises an eyebrow challengingly at you, a small smirk on his face that angers you enough into forcing yourself to relax your mouth around his erection and slowly suction it.

You watch the bliss that falls on his face, spurring you on as you start bobbing your head over his magnificent length. Johnny wasn’t the biggest dick you’d had—you’d been with several creatures of variety sizes and lengths—but he was definitely one of them and combined with his thickness had you growing excited for when you could feel him properly inside you.

You flatten your tongue around him, your arms having gone limp over your head as you focus on Johnny’s dick. He tastes like pure sin and although giving a man an oral usually never gave you pleasure, there was something about this Prince of Hell that had pools of arousal seeping out of your own heated core while you sucked him passionately—with almost a desperate fervour to milk him dry.

Johnny was moaning and the sound was the most glorious thing you ever heard as it egged you on—but then he grabbed the sides of your head and started fucking into your mouth roughly, using you as a mere slutty hole to thrust into and ram repeatedly until you were gagging and choking as the spongy head kept hitting the back of your throat. You were blinking back tears that you refused to let him see and there was a sheen of your saliva and his pre-cum coating now as he kept fucking.

Then, you swirled your tongue around the tip and hummed around his length, the vibrations of your mouth setting him off.

Johnny came in thick delicious spurts of creamy frothy cum that quickly overfilled your mouth and began dripping down the corner of your lips. His thumbs were immediately wiping the excess that leaked and shoving it inside your cum-covered lips and you didn’t let up—continuing to swallow all of it and lick him completely clean as you revelled in how he wasn’t twitching or pulling away already from oversensitivity like the other men you’d been with.

“Such a hungry cumslut, aren’t you?” Johnny whispers, eyes dark as you suck on his thumb.

“Mmm, you would be too if you could taste yourself,” you mutter and his lips are immediately replacing his thumb as his tongue explores the walls of your mouth, groaning as he tastes his salty cum in your mouth. You shift underneath his body and Johnny pulls away, smirking at your impatience.

“Someone’s getting a little fidgety,” he teases and you grunt, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Enough,” you say, tugging at your hands to no avail. “Undo my wrists now.”

“Not yet,” he replies, starting to suck a trail of hickeys down your throat and along your chest. You jolt as you feel a sudden burn and glance down to realise that Johnny’s trailing his index finger from your earlobe down your clavicle, between the valley of your breasts before finally circling around them.

His finger burns like fire because it is on fire—the end glows with a flame similar to the ones you’d blown out earlier as he draws it over your skin in a way that it ignites the most delicious sparks all over you, a pool of heat growing in your stomach at the sensations as Johnny’s mouth wraps around your breast.

You immediately arch your back at the contrasting sensation of his cool tongue drawing circles around your erect nipple and moan his name as you feel his teeth sink down into the tender flesh, ascertaining to leave bruises that’d last for weeks.

You feel his free hand crawl between your bodies then, light and delicate and teasing as it dances down your stomach—a complete parallel to the rough brashness of his mouth’s ministrations on your breasts.

Your breaths grow faster in impatience at the tension he builds up and you’re almost about to yell at him when you feel his fingers lightly brush against your entrance.

“Fuck,” he whispers, looking up at you from your chest with awed eyes. “You’re soaked.”

You start to reply but stop and throw your head back as he inserts his finger inside your dripping cunt, your walls clenching tightly around his digits in a way that immediately had him reeling as he wondered how it would feel when his entire dick will be wrapped by your tight delicious pussy.

Johnny watches you carefully as he fucks you open—your wetness allowing him to easily slip in more fingers until all but his thumb is left to be soaked in your heat. You moan loudly as he thrusts his hand in and out of your pussy at an inhuman speed, brushing against your clit in quick successive motions that had your thighs thrashing as you felt yourself drawing closer. The sounds of your wetness and his dripping hand thrusting in and out were echoing all around you as he brought you to your high.

And right when you started screaming his name, Johnny pulled his hand out completely.

“Fuck, Johnny, no!” You whined in protest, eyes shooting open at your denied pleasure as you glare at him, feeling incredibly frustrated. “You dick, I cannot believe you—”

He shoves his sopping fingers inside your mouth and you immediately latch your lips around them, puckering your lips as you suck every finger clean of your fluids. He smiles in approval and leans down to kiss you, eyebrows furrowing as he tastes you.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, eyes darkening as he looks at you in amazement. “You taste absolutely delectable.”

“No, no, no, no,” You moan, already dreading this as he starts lowering himself down your body. “Johnny, stop, just fuck me, pl—”

You stop yourself just in time but Johnny catches it anyway, freezing as he raises his head to look at you with an expression of mock-innocence.

“Yes, my little slut?” He calls the term with the exact same tone you’d use to address ‘Prince’ all this time. “Did you say anything? I think I heard you begging?”

“You heard nothing,” you retort, feeling your stomach tighten as he returns to crawling down your body for his goal.

Johnny doesn’t hesitate or warn you—long thick devil tongue already flat against the outside of your pussy as he teasingly licks around the slit before lapping up the wetness along it. You focus on your breaths, biting down on your lip to hold back any pleas and then feel his hands wrap around your thighs, opening them wider as his head disappears fully inside your legs.

Your body jerks then as he opens you up, thrusting his tongue inside your slick pussy with, the tip licking around the inside of your walls as he collects all your fluids. He moans at your taste and you involuntarily clench around his thick muscle at the sensation as he then finds your clit.

You’re unable to control the guttural groan that escapes your lips as he flattens his tongue against your clit and starts circling around it, teasing and stimulating it to the extremes. You feel your arousal seep out of you and his lips are immediately latching around your pussy’s slit, drinking it all up without letting a drop go to waste.

Then, because he is truly the spawn of Satan, Johnny pushes in the fingers that you just licked clean.

You gasped at the sensation as he focused on his ministrations, completely devouring your pussy as his mouth sucked on your clit harshly while his fingers yet again scissored you open. Cum was dripping down in amounts you were sure had never happened before as he once again began fucking you to your high.

And yet again, right when you reached your orgasm, he stopped—completely unlatching his mouth from your pussy and removing his hand entirely.

Your face was flushed with exertion, blood pounding in your ears and heart racing erratically in your chest from the orgasms you were being edged to. You were near tears and you weren’t sure you could take any more—especially with your arms still being tied and having gone limp over your head.

Johnny lifts himself up and you all but whimper in relief when you feel his erection against your pussy. He kisses you tenderly and leisurely—lazy enough that you know it’s on purpose to rile you up further so you start rolling your hips underneath him for even the barest amount of friction, wanting to feel his cock.

Instead, Johnny moves slightly to give way for his hand that yet again finds your pussy, fingers lazily stroking it.

“Johnny,” you cry, giving up completely as you pull away—your voice thick with desperation and arousal. His eyes are blazing with powerlust and you want to win this game of control but you can’t find it in yourself to fight anymore—not when your head was spinning the way it was.

You needed relief and you needed it now.

“Please,” you wailed, eyes hazy as you blinked at him. “Please give me your cock, Johnny. Please just fuck me… Prince.”

“Finally,” he grunted and he didn’t waste a second longer as he nudged your knees farther apart and quickly pushed himself in—thick, delicious length filling you up so completely and stuffing you so full that you almost sobbed with relief.

You felt like it took an entire minute just for him to fill you up until the hilt and the fact that you were so damn wet helped him slip inside easily. As soon as he was completely inside you and you could feel his balls nestled against your ass, Johnny pulled back and began rutting you mercilessly.

His hands were burning hot again as they seared your skin, holding your legs high to reach inside you in spots that you didn’t even know could be reached and had you seeing stars.

“That’s right, baby, take all of me,” you hear Johnny grunt as he fucks into you over and over while you moan his name over and over like a prayer. He suddenly lets go of your thigh to slap your bouncing breasts with one hand and your eyes shoot open, screams leaving your lips at the sensation.

“Watch me fuck you,” he growls. “Watch the devil fill your tiny body up, you slut.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you look down and see the way your lower stomach bulges out with every thrust, mesmerised by the way his dick moves inside you at an erratic speed. The sight tightens the fiery knot of pleasure inside your stomach and you gasp as you feel yourself drawing close, your walls clenching around Johnny.

“Are you close, slut?” Johnny grunts, ramming harder and rougher as he sees the way you tremble and your thighs shake. “Are you gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Cum inside me,” you breathe, tears trailing down your face as you clench your pussy around him. “Fill me up with all your devil cum.”

Johnny groans at your filthy words, shaking slightly as he finally releases inside you. You cum immediately after, both of your bodies writhing together in a carnal dance as you ride out your orgasms—moaning at the sweet bliss of ecstasy that washes over you with the delicious feeling of being filled with more thick cum.

You tremble for a while, still cumming as he keeps moving to draw out both your highs and you’re close to crying with relief at the incredible orgasm you just had.

You’re panting as Johnny collapses on top of you and you suddenly feel a surge of blood in your wrists, feeling returning to them as he finally dispels the spell. You wrap your shaky hands around his broad shoulders and your body stills as you feel him harden again inside you.

Johnny’s already smirking when you look at him as he leans back, pulling out and releasing a gush of both your cum out of your pussy. Your eyes are wide in question as his fingers collect the cum and push it back inside your pussy before coming up to his own mouth that he then licks clean.

“One more hole left, Y/N,” he grins at you, lifting you up and quickly shifting you around so that you were lying on your front. You feel his sweaty body press up against your entire back as he whispers in your ear, “And so many more hours left to this night. I’m taking all of them, remember?”

Your body is completely spent and you’re even doubtful if it can take much more but you can’t deny the way his words make your thighs clench, turning you on at the thought of more.

More with this Prince of Hell.

Johnny smiles, as if able to hear your thoughts. He sucks on your earlobe as he says, “Dance with the devil all night and I’ll show you that hell is where you want to be.”

[jackandthesoulmates]

Curse’s Delight

requested by @wendibird

So like, in a setting where it hasn't been a thing yet. Fuck-or-die and Jack's the one bit with the curse. And Sam's the only other person around. And there isn't a lot of time. (So like, trying to arrange for a prostitute wouldn't work.) Plus maybe the curse stipulates that the cursed party has to be penetrated. In any event, though Sam has misgivings, Jack assures him that he trusts him and to Sam's surprise Jack ends up REALLY liking it.

Word count: 1914

Read on AO3

Or under the cut.

Sam just didn’t watch Jack for a split second. But a second can be a very, very long time. As it was in this case, because, when Sam looked around, Jack had something in his hands that made Sam’s hunter alarm go off. Very loudly.

“DROP IT! NOW!”

He didn’t mean to yell, but he lost his cool with this. He reached out to Jack, who looked at him, surprised and frightened all of a sudden. 

“Why-- what--!”

Sam slapped Jack’s hand and he dropped the horn. A red, twisted one. And there was only one creature in existence that Sam knew of had twisted red horns.

An incubus. They were in so much trouble now.

Jack didn’t know what he did wrong and what had upset Sam so much. He always wanted to make things right, especially when Sam was around. This time it seemed he had fucked up by touching this horn, whatever it was. 

It was a case that Sam took him to learn some hunter stuff and they ended up breaking into a so called “Wiccan Shop” whose owner had disappeared and had said some very disturbing things to his employee, a rebellious woman with her face covered in black piercings and arms full of colourful tattoos. She had tried to flirt with Jack how Sam told him later, but Jack was as clueless about this as he could be. 

Breaking into a witchcraft shop was new to him but Sam was professional and efficient with locks. Inside the shop Jack tried to copy Sam’s style and tried to be as analytic and rational. But this horn, it had called out to him. And only to him. It sang and whispered about earthly delights and that Jack could have what he wanted if he just -- touched it. Touching it felt good. Tingly. It was resonating deeply with a desire Jack felt for a while already… And so, he just touched the damn thing.

Seemingly, this was a shit idea, Sam never yelled. Like, really, … never.

“S-Sam did I do something wrong?”

Sam kicked the horn away and immediately grabbed Jack’s face. It was an intense look Sam gave Jack and he felt a sudden pain behind his eyes. The world went black for a moment. 

“Jack, are you okay?” 

He shook his head, the pain was piercing through his skull. 

“No, it hurts! What was this thing?”

Jack laid his hands on Sam’s, trying to make the pain go away with pressing against his temples. But his body had just started acting up because in the pain there was a feeling, an aching inside his guts. He knew this feeling and he didn’t like it, because he didn’t know how to get rid of it. His pants bulged and he squirmed under Sam’s touch.

“It’s the horn of an incubus, a male … a male sex demon.” The way Sam hesitated frightened Jack even more. 

“What does it mean?” Jack whispered, rubbing his legs against each other and keeping his eyes shut. 

It was incredibly painful. When did it stop? 

“It means, you’ve been exposed to its venom and… and… shit, we maybe have just minutes. The curse is powerful and- oh my God Jack, I have no idea--”

Jack started shaking and bent over to leave a puddle of vomit directly before Sam’s shoes. The acid he threw up burned in his stomach and esophagus. It just didn’t stop! 

“Sam, help me… please…”, Jack said, tasting bitter gall in his mouth. 

Jack felt how Sam tried to get him up, but Jack was cramping terribly and moving him seemed impossible. He just fell over to the ground, face first. Still choking out acid and what he tasted… blood. Between his whimpers he still begged Sam for help.

“Jack, please, hold on… I can’t do this!”, Sam exclaimed, clearly panicking now.

When Jack looked up for a second he could see Sam through his veil of tears. His eyes stung, his lung hurt and his stomach won’t stop twisting. And why was he aroused now, in these moments when his body seems to be torn apart. He died once already. This definitely felt like dying too. Jack didn’t want to die.

“You can’t do what? Please, Sam… It hurts… it hurts so much…”

Sam’s hand in his hair surely meant to comfort him, but actually Jack got angry. “Help me!”

And then Sam said, “Jack, it’s a curse and the only way to free you from it is having sex. I’m so sorry. I can’t call anyone, it’s in the middle of the night. I have no idea where to find a hustler.”

Jack had no idea what a hustler was. And he certainly has never had sex before with anyone. He didn’t even kiss so far. But the pain became unbearable.

“Then I need to have sex? Will it stop?”

He heard Sam breathing heavily. “Yes, you need to but…” Sam looked as awful as Jack felt right now. 

Jack’s learned one thing already. He’d never touch anything calling out to him ever again. His stinging lungs made him cough and he could taste blood. Again. He knew that was a very, very bad sign. And why did Sam talk so much when it was a matter of time for Jack to die?

“Sam!” he cried, coughing blood all over his white shirt. 

And Sam didn’t know how to help Jack. His first instinct was to call Dean, call a hooker or whatever to get Jack out of this misery quickly, but Dean certainly had no remedy at hand, because there was only this one remedy that would work. Everything else Sam thought of would only help Jack survive maybe a couple minutes later. Incubus curses were so incredibly sinister. Sam knew the cure, of course. But he felt so horrible thinking about how to have sex with Jack.

“Jack, we need to have sex, but I’m not sure if I can… oh Jack, please..”

Sam was his caretaker, not his lover, but he knew he couldn’t let Jack die here. 

“Then do it, Sam. Do it with me. I don’t want to die!”

He knew they had to. He hated the idea anyway. Sam got up and starting browsing in the shelves for something that would make it easier for Jack. 

“Oil, oil… come on! There has to be some oil in here, fuck!”

Sam never swore. He never yelled, he never swore. Jack knew, this situation was horrible. In his actual condition he would do anything to be healed from this turmoil. 

Then Sam seemed to have found what he needed, because he called out a short “YES” and then dragged Jack up, who was close to passing out from the pain. Sam laid Jack on the counter, undressed him. Jack’s world was spinning and weird patterns of black and red dots were dancing in his eyesight. The wooden underground felt cold on his back. He didn’t give a damn about it, he just wanted to be good again.

“This will hurt. Sorry in advance.” 

Jack was half unconscious already when he heard a wet noise and then felt his legs spread apart. 

“Sa--- Sam…”, he mumbled, sounding like a drunkard. 

Sam held Jack’s ankles with one hand and the other was… Jack tried to look up, but he couldn’t. There was something sticking in his ass now, he wasn’t sure what it was. He didn’t even knew how two men would have sex in the first place. 

“Shhh, it will be okay, Jack. Relax. Please. I’m sorry.”

Jack covered his face with his arm, silently sobbing from the pain in his whole body. He felt a sharp and sudden pain when something… bigger… was pushed inside his hole and he cried out in surprise and suddenly in absolutely deranged pleasure. He bit his arm. Hard. Jack tasted blood again and his teeth hurt from the pressure he put his jaw on. 

“Sam..” he called out. What was that? Why did he have to do it like this?

Aloe Vera gel was not the best alternative to lube but the only thing Sam could find in this shop without causing an utter mess. He wasn’t as hard as he should be to penetrate Jack and he felt horrible and guilty already for taking his foster boy like this. When he started crying out Sam’s name and clenching around Sam’s cock so deliciously Sam was getting rock hard. Now that he pushed the tip inside and still pushing deeper he could let go of Jack’s ankles. Immediately Jack pulled him closer, Sam’s cock sliding inside Jack’s tight ass completely.

“Fuck!”, Sam exclaimed. 

This was so good and so wrong, Sam wanted to stop… the other half of him loved the raw fuck. He didn’t even have time to prepare Jack a little. Sam thrusted deep inside Jack’s ass, slid out almost completely and then pushed back in. All the way. And then he just had to fuck him. Hard. There was no time for mercy or caresses. Only Jack who needed to be fucked and cum to get rid of the curse that made him almost die. 

“Sam… oh God, Sam…” Jack cried, hiding deeper. 

But Sam ripped the arm away from his face and made Jack touch himself. 

“Jerk it. Come on, sweetheart. Rub it.”

Jack did how Sam wanted, while he still pounded Jack hard and without any mercy. He cried out by his own touches and felt his already hard cock throbbing and twitching. The nausea faded, same as the heavy feeling in his lungs. He could feel how his anus clenched around Sam’s cock. Sam felt so big inside Jack, it drove him crazy!

“Sam.. Sam!” 

There was nothing else on Jack’s mind right now, nothing but the feeling of tension building up in belly, Sam’s big cock and how each of his powerful thrusts made Jack moan and sob in pleasure. 

It didn’t last a minute until Jack came the first time ever. He shot a huge load of cum across his milk white skin and even a few drops squirted up to his chin. The explosion made him dizzy, the following relief let him pass out for a few seconds. Even Sam’s frantic thrusting could keep him conscious right now. Sam on the other side was into it so much he just stopped fucking Jack as he was about to cum. With a hiss he pulled out and came all over Jack’s chest as well. 

With a shudder and a grunt Sam jerked himself through a massive orgasm. Then he let go of Jack. It took several blinks for Sam to calm down enough to check up on the boy. Jack was still unconscious, it needed some slight slaps on his cheek to bring him back.

Jack sighed and opened his eyes slowly. 

“Is it done?”, he asked. 

Sam nodded and helped Jack up. 

“I’m so sorry, kid. I… I shouldn’t have done that.”

The boy brushed the worries aside. With big teary eyes he looked up to Sam, before he leaned his head against Sam’s chest and held him tight as if he was about to fall from the counter. 

“I don’t feel like dying anymore, that’s good.”

Sam’s hand caressed Jack’s messy hair. He didn’t dare to hold him closer. 

“I liked it.” 

Jack chuckled. “I really liked it. Can we do that again? Without the almost dying part?”

[arthurflecc]

1, 2, 3

Summary: Joker knew all of your holes belonged to him and only him. Tonight, he would make sure you hadn’t forgotten that.

Genre: smut

Word count: 1,962 words of pure filthy smut

Warnings: rough/anal/unprotected sex. A little bit of degradation too. Some things aren’t realistic, but I wrote them anyway. Please, do not read it unless you’re +18.

N/A: This is the first fic I wrote for Joker specifically and I had a lot of fun! / Gif credit to life-or-something-like-lt

You were on the couch, watching a movie while waiting for him to come back home. A sex scene came on and you couldn’t help but think of him, remembering the feeling of his cock rubbing on your ass while you were trying to make him breakfast that morning. He loved teasing you like that. You tried to pretend it didn’t have any effect on you, but your clit knew better.

The thought made you feel like touching it. Just something fast to relieve yourself. So, you slightly rubbed all of the fabric of your underwear, feeling a little tingle down there. You moved it to the side with one hand and with the other you touched your entrance in search for cum to rub your clit. There was just a little for now, but it was enough. You used your index to spread some of it around your clit and made circular moves with it, slowly. You realized there was no need to hurry and it would be fun to play around.

You went to your bedroom and took your anal plug and lube from the drawer. Joker would be so pissed if he knew you were using them without him being there to watch, but you were willing to take the risk and assumed he wouldn’t arrive in at least two hours.

You came back to the living room and laid down on the couch. It smelled like him. You took all of your clothes and decided to dry hump the arm of the couch, imagining it was his cock instead. The friction made you wetter, leaving traces on the couch. Would he get upset if he saw it? Would he punish you for it?

It was one of those days you craved something in your ass. The pleasure in your pussy made your ass more sensitive and it felt like a waste not to use that hole. You took the anal plug and drenched it in lube. You put it in your asshole slowly and once it was all in, you started dry humping the arm of the couch again. You were about to get lost in your own fun when someone barged in.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He looked unhinged. His suit had been torn and there was a little blood on it, his makeup was starting to melt.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mea-”

“Get down on your knees. Now.”

His voice left no room for questioning. You knew you were about to punished, that your holes would be punished...it’s what you deserve for having misbehaved.

You couldn’t even get on knees, though. You only had the time to sit down on the floor, relieved the couch would support your back. He unzipped his pants and had his cock in your mouth so fast you couldn’t even protest that he put all of it in, leaving you no choice. He started to fuck your mouth ruthlessly, reminding you of the fucktoy you are. He pushed all of his length in and out, in and out. He stopped moving and pushed it so far back it reached your throat. You tried to push him away, but he was so much stronger than you. You teared up a little and when he pulled his dick out, there was saliva all over it and a string still linking its tip to your mouth. You thought you’d have a moment to catch your breath, but you couldn’t be more wrong. He squeezed his balls and forced you to take them in your mouth, which both of you knew wasn’t big enough for them. He loved watching you struggle to take them, how whiny you became. His arrogant expression and the feeling of his balls in your mouth made your clit throb. You decided to touch yourself...how stupid of you.

“If you use your hands without my permission, I’ll fuck your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit down or walk straight for a week, you fucking whore.”

He had pulled his balls from your mouth and bent down to choke you to say that, looking firmly into your eyes. Being called a whore only made you wetter, and it was torturing not being allowed to touch yourself then, but you were smart enough not to disagree.

He grabbed your hair and fucked your mouth at a faster pace. There were tears and saliva all over your face, dropping to your boobs. You were a fucking mess, but his cock was getting so hard he had to lower it down to reach your mouth, so that made it all worth it.

“Turn around”

You followed his orders, turned around and got on your knees, using the couch as support for your arms and chest. You mentally prepared yourself to take his cock in your pussy, you could feel your empty hole begging to be filled...but it wasn’t that hole he was about to bury his cock in. He spanked your ass.

“You thought this could replace me?”

Oh, the plug. His presence had almost made you forget it was still there.

“No, I-”

You had also forgotten how to speak, apparently.

He removed the plug from your ass and replaced it with his cock. It was slick with your saliva and you felt a mix of pleasure and pain as it slided in. Your moans were getting too loud and he took the underwear you had left on the couch to shut you up. Your muffled moans, your helplessness and the sight of his wet dick coming and out of your asshole...you couldn’t see how red his dick was for trying so hard not to come too early.

He spanked you again, then pulled his dick out of your ass but kept it between your ass cheeks. He made you stand on your knees and brought your back closer to him, removing the underwear from your mouth. His chest was pressed on your back, it was overwhelming. His hands were all over your boobs and he pinched your nipples much to your surprise. It hurt and the pleasure was just...too much. Still pinching them, he asked in a low, deep voice that didn’t sound like your sweet Arthur at all:

“Do you understand what happens when you try to play by yourself?”

“I get punished.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a whore.”

“And what do whores deserve?”

Again, you didn’t have time to answer. He bent you back down, put the plug back in your ass, spread your legs further apart and, before you knew it, had his whole dick inside your pussy. You had never been this wet in your entire life. If having two of your holes filled at the same time were what a whore deserves, you would misbehave more often. You couldn’t stop moaning. Your clit was pulsing as he completely ignored it.

“You like it, don’t you?”  

Liked what?

“Being fucked by a monster.”

You saw stars. You would say “Oh my god” but the words wouldn’t come out and your mouth was open in a circle, in shock. Your walls clenched so intensely around his dick that he came inside you, his warm cum filling you in. He kept fucking you and playing with the plug in your ass, and you could swear nothing had ever felt as good as having him using his own cum as lube and you were dying to turn around and see it, but he kept your head down when he noticed what you would do...just when you were about to come. You didn’t have the right to see anything - your only purpose was to have your holes used by him.  

He got upset and removed the plug from your ass, smacking it again and leaving a red mark this time - “What the fuck are you looking at? You fucking slut” - and burying his cock so deep in your asshole you could feel his balls touching your pussy. His dick was still hard and so wet, it came in and out of you easily now. The sound of his balls smacking your pussy as he thrusted in and out of you with anger made your clit hurt from pulsing so much without getting any attention.

He pulled his dick out of you and took off his red suit, twisted it and circled you with it like it was a belt. It reminded you of how deranged he looked with it when he arrived...the memory making your holes open up more and more to him. He held the suit around your waist and you realized you really should hold on to the couch more tightly. He would certainly use the last minutes of his erection to teach you a final lesson.

He pulled you to him with the suit and entered your pussy without any warning, your used hole easily taking all of him at once now. You tried to protest, pretend you didn’t like it.

“Please, slow down” you begged, whining.

“Now you wanna say please?”

He was right. You should have thought twice before trying to have fun without him. You knew the risk, but you took the chance anyway. Now, with the help of the suit, he thrusted into you faster and deeper...still ignoring your clit.  He fucked you using the suit as if it were a rope and you were a mechanical bull...he was having fun punishing you. Your body was starting to get weak and you couldn’t hold on to the couch anymore. You had to straighten your back for some support and ended up pushing your pussy closer to him, deepening his dick inside of you. He stopped moving for a moment, waiting to see how long you could stand all of his cock inside. It could fill all of your hole and it was pulsating inside you. You were desperate to touch your clit.

“Please.”

He ignored you, and with his dick still all buried in you, he pulled you and himself back and a little farther from the couch. He lowered your head to the floor, letting go of the suit. He spread your legs again, then returned his hand to your head, forcing it down so you couldn’t look at him. He pulled his dick out of you so he could spit on it and rub it, making it glisten more. Then, he put it in you and started pounding your pussy again, but this new angle made his balls hit your clit in every thrust and added a new layer of sensations to your already overwhelmed body.

“Please, let me come.”

All of the pleasure from having him deep in your mouth, your pussy, your ass...from knowing he had fun by mercilessly using your holes like you were a dirty old toy and seeing you like the complete mess you became for him, wet, overwhelmed, desperate...all of it came to your mind at once when he touched your clit. His cold fingers sent shivers down your warm pussy, your insides going insane from the pleasure. You could barely stay in position. He used your shoulders for support to thrust his second orgasm into you, and god, it felt so good to feel the warm liquid filling you up inside, to be used as his cum dump again. He pulled his cock out of you for the last time tonight and brought some of his cum out of you with it. Still on his knees, he watched the rest slowly drip down to floor while both of your holes still throbbed from the climax.

You would have to clean up after your own mess, but he had definitely taught you a lesson...

that you would gladly disobey again.