#like there's a reason why my feed is almost entirely composed of like..

[headdaze]

I click on one. ONE. ONE!!! horror short ONCE on YouTube and now my feed is full of horror shorts and clips from gorey movies (and of course, me never heeding the words "curiosity killed the cat" properly, always click on some out of curiosity..)

so I just did a deep cleanse of my feed 😃 (read: resisted the demons and clicked on "not interested" on every MILDLY HORROR-RELATED THING that I saw)

[navybrat817]

No Other Love

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to surprise you with a romantic evening.

Word Count: Over 2.1k

Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, slight feels (it’s me, okay), Bucky Barnes being romantic (he’s a warning, okay?).

A/N: I received some sad news and almost didn't post, but I wanted to share something that brought happy tears to my eyes with Stud. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky sent you to your room and wouldn’t tell you why. He had a surprise planned for you and refused to give you any sort of a hint. He only said he debated kicking you out for a few hours, but didn’t want to risk you getting back too early or late. Oh, and he asked you to put on a dress. Your boyfriend had a romantic plan in mind and you wouldn't deny his request.

You did, however, demand snacks while you waited.

“You want me to feed you just because I’m asking you not to go into the kitchen or dining area for a bit?” he smiled when you pointed to the pantry.

“If I can’t leave my room, I will need sustenance,” you replied.

Just like you didn’t argue about his surprise plans, he didn’t argue when he handed over the food.

“What is he doing out there?” you mumbled to yourself, crossing your arms. You debated pressing your ear against the door to listen, but your stealthy boyfriend managed to keep quiet. “Can I come out now?!” you called out.

“No! Don’t distract me!” he yelled back.

You huffed and flopped back against the pillow. It wasn’t that you didn’t like surprises. You just preferred knowing things. Blame it on your curious nature. It was one of the reasons you enjoyed studying. Expanding your mind and absorbing knowledge centered you. With surprises, however, the only option you had was to wait.

But it’s worth it because it’s Stud.

“‘Don’t distract me.’ Like you haven’t distracted me when I have things to do,” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed a book from your nightstand. “Menace of a boyfriend.”

“You talking about me?” he shouted as you mindlessly flipped through the pages.

How the hell…?

“No! Just reading! Get back to work or whatever it is that you’re doing!”

“You trust me, right?” He asked.

Even though he couldn't see your face, you smiled. “Completely,” you answered.

If there was anyone in the world you trusted with your entire being, it was Bucky.

“Then trust that this will be worth it.”

“You got it, Stud!” you said, assuming he went back to work since he chuckled and didn't say anything else.

You passed the time with your book before you got up to look in the mirror. Since Bucky didn’t say what kind of dress to wear, you picked something simple and blue. You loved the color before, but he made you appreciate it more. You felt peace when you looked into his eyes.

Trust, loyalty, love.

You just finished spritzing a bit of perfume on your neck when Bucky knocked on the door. Instead of opening it as you expected, he slid a piece of paper under it instead. As you moved closer, you realized it was shaped like a puzzle piece. Smiling, you picked it up to read the message he wrote.

In my wildest dreams, I never thought someone as amazing as you would come into my life. I hope I’m your dream come true and better than any book boyfriend you've read about.

Oh, Bucky.

With misty eyes, you read the message again and traced the letters with your finger. Bucky was the best boyfriend in the universe and you didn’t think that just because he was yours. Any girl would be lucky to have a man like him by his side. Someone loving and steadfast and true.

“Count to ten and then come out,” Bucky said through the door as you composed yourself.

After silently counting to ten as he instructed, you opened the door with a gasp. Bucky took your apartment, one you saw daily, and transformed it. Fairy lights, adjustable lamps, and candles replaced the normally brightly lit place. You could see blankets and pillows ready in the living room for cuddling and hopefully more. And the scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air.

Best meal ever.

“Bucky?” you asked when you didn’t see him. Was he hiding? You didn’t even see Alpine or Soot. Maybe he put them in his room. You almost called for Bucky again before you spotted another piece of paper on the floor a few feet in front of your door and went to pick it up.

Before I met you, I never knew what it was like to smile for no reason. And I found the reason for my smile the day I found you. Like when I think of that cute look you get on your face when you put a puzzle together.

You held the sheet close to your chest as you found another in the direction of the kitchen, smiling as you went to retrieve it. This was like a treasure hunt, a puzzle you couldn’t wait to complete. Bucky was the “X” that marked the spot.

If I write your name in the sand, it will wash away. If I write it in the clouds, it will blow away. So I wrote it in my heart where it will always stay in my care. Just like I promised your parents.

I’m going to be a blubbering mess if he keeps this up.

“Wise men say.”

You walked into the kitchen as “I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You” filled the room, where Bucky was waiting for you. The song you danced to before you became a couple, one that would forever hold a special place in your heart. And it was as if all the oxygen was sucked from the room as you took in the sight of your boyfriend. Instead of sweatpants or jeans, he wore slacks and a button up shirt. The blue matched your dress. That’s how in sync the two of you were.

He even styled his hair for me.

"Hey, Smartie," he said, his voice gentle as he smiled and nodded to the ground in front of him where another piece of paper lay waiting. “You look beautiful.”

"Thank you, Stud," you smiled, sniffling as you bent down to pick it up. "These messages are beautiful, but are you trying to make me cry? Because if so, well done and it's a good thing I didn't overdo it on the makeup. I'd be a mess."

He laughed, the sound making butterflies flutter in your stomach. "Only if they're tears of joy or pleasure. And you don't need to wear any makeup because you're beautiful," he replied, heat rushing through your body before you read the message.

Love is two people dancing in the kitchen. May I have this dance?

You lifted your gaze to find Bucky holding out his hand. “I’d love to,” you said, setting the pieces of paper on the counter before you joined him. There was no way you would refuse, easily taking his hand for him to pull you into his arms. It was almost overwhelming the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world who mattered. If you ever needed to know what love looked like, you only had to gaze into Bucky's eyes.

Am I worthy of such devotion?

"You really are good on your feet,” you said as he began to lead you in a dance.

"I'm even better off my feet," he winked, making you laugh before he spun you away from him, only to pull you back. "That was cheesier than the pizza waiting for us, wasn't it?"

“So cheesy. You had to ruin the moment,” you teased, giving him a coy smile. “So, what’s the special occasion for all this?”

You had a feeling why and wanted your instinct to be correct, but didn’t want to get your hopes up. Family wise, they were ready for you to take the next step. Your parents adored the hell out of Bucky. Becca welcomed you like a sister. Your friends, of course, were also supportive and ready for you to tie the knot.

“Do I need a reason to spoil my girl with an extra romantic pizza and movie night? I’m even letting you pick the movie, even though you chose last time.”

“How generous of you. And no, you don’t need a reason to spoil me,” you said. Even if he didn’t have something specific planned, he made you feel special just by calling you his girl. You knew, no matter how many years passed, the two of you would continue to find ways to make each other feel loved and cared for.

“Do you remember the day we met?” he asked, smiling as if the memory was playing in his mind. “I warned you that Alpine chased off the last person who came over to look at the place. I was worried for a second she'd try the same thing with you.”

“You did warn me,” you giggled. “And I just crouched down and stuck my hand out toward her.”

“She loved you from the start,” he said, pulling you closer as he brushed his mouth against your ear, the gentle tickle of his scruff making your eyes slip shut. “I think I loved you, too.”

Bucky and his perfect voice and perfect words and I'm about to cry all over again.

“You think you loved me from the moment you met me?” You asked, sniffling as he pulled back and nodded. “Because I think I loved you, too. Which sounds crazy, but we're both a little crazy in the best ways.”

We're a couple of dorks who found a way to fit together.

“We are a little crazy. And who would Stud be without his Smartie?" He asked, handing you a sheet that he seemed to pull out of thin air. “One more piece.”

My love for you is like a circle: It has no beginning and no end. And it would be an honor for you to wear my family ring.

Bucky dropped down to one knee and grasped your left hand as he took a box from his pocket. You couldn’t slow the beating of your heart as he looked up at you with loving eyes. “When I tried to think of the perfect proposal, I wanted it to be the kind you deserved. And I couldn’t get our apartment out of my head. This is where we met. The place where you became my roommate. And we made it a home together. You even fell in love with me. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I’m thankful every single day that you allowed me to love you, too.”

Your breath hitched when he opened the box. Even expecting it, your soul was ready to leave your body. “Bucky,” you whispered, a sob bursting from your throat when he tenderly smiled.

“My mom told me to give this to the person who stole my heart. You gave me the world when you gave me yours. And I promised your dad I'd always take care of you and love you the way you deserve. We’re made for each other and I don’t want to live a single day without you by my side.”

You could only cry when he removed the ring from the box. For him to think you were worthy of wearing something so significant and special to his family was a precious gift. One you would never let him question or regret. “I don’t want to either.”

“You're my missing piece. My forever. My Smartie,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you cried, your hand shaking a little as he slipped the ring on your finger. It fit perfectly, like it was made for you. Like you and Bucky were made for each other.

My missing piece. My forever. My Stud.

Bucky stood and leaned in, his breath ghosting over your lips. You eliminated any distance between you by pressing your mouth to his. You clung to him, your mouth soft against his as he brought a thumb up to wipe away your tears. You drew back, your heart fluttering in your chest as he brought his lips to your damp cheek.

“I love you so much,” he breathed against your skin.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you whispered, bringing your mouth back to his. “I love you, too.”

You never could’ve imagined someone like Bucky in your wildest dreams. He was the reason you smiled, sometimes for no reason at all. You’d write his name on your heart and forever keep it there. You would dance with him in the kitchen or wherever he asked you to. Your love for him, like his love for you, was an unbreakable circle.

And you couldn’t wait to be his wife.

Yay! He proposed! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cardierreh15]

Variants

This is just part one of two! Enjoy ⚡️🐺

***I do not give anyone consent to copy, translate or repost my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Angst , Mild Violence .

Pairings: Logan Howlett (Cavillrine) x Ororo Munroe also known as Storm ⚡️

Description: Ororo wakes up in another universe, she meets someone familiar…

Word Count: 4.8K

Song: Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen (but whatever your favorite version is)

Earth-811, Days of Future Present (my own twist) to Earth-199999

Side Note: Please keep in mind, this is not at all accurate and I am only writing something I thought up. Anything from how she got to this Earth from to her meeting Logan is not canon events.

Side, Side Note: Lyrics are in regular italics. Ororo's thoughts are in Italics Bold and OG Logan's voice is in orange italics.

Part One

Now I've heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music, do ya?

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled king composing "Hallelujah”

It was a beautiful day on Earth 199999. Not a cloud to be spotted. The birds chirped and there was even a cool breeze to combat the humid air that the season had brought in on its back. But all of that was about to change.

With the bat of an eye, dark heavy clouds rolled into the view of the sun. Blocking out any rays that were toasting up some skins and feeding flowers. Violent lightning bolts filled the sky and loud thunder shook the ground beneath the feet of man. Rain beat down like rocks and the wind blew so strong, it toppled cars and pulled trees from their roots.

In the middle of that chaos, was a woman who would change the entire timeline of this world. Though, she had no idea where she was or whether she was even alive. But she was what this world needed.

Falling unconscious from the thunderous clouds, she collapsed into the pacific. Engulfed and swallowed up by the merciless deep blue. One would think that was the end of this Storm Goddess. But fate and destiny were willing to bend the rules when it came to fulfilling their name.

Upon her contact, the impact of her landing had not only caused hurricanes but water spouts that could tear up an entire island and record breaking tsunamis. Countless lives had been lost upon her ascend.

Months had passed on by and the world was slowly healing from the detrimental damage that came with Ororo’s hard landing. Reporters and storm researchers tried to get to the bottom of what could’ve caused something like this to happen so simultaneously and without warning. The UN (United Nations) had already started on their own journey trying to get to the bottom of it; if it was mutant related and purposeful. As if they give a damn about that really. On her Earth, the United States were the reason why she was here in the first place.

Ororo was found caught in a fishing net in Vancouver. She was well preserved and oddly enough, still warm to the touch. Yet, still knocked into a deep coma that not even inhaling water could wake her from.

A man, not from this plain, had noticed that she wasn’t exactly human. And if the other fisherman had suspected her of being a mutant, they’d have her shipped off to a lab somewhere in the US after they collected their reward. So, he took her back to his home in Alberta, Canada. Far away from society and where he could be himself.

The stranger would come check on the brown sleeping beauty every once in a while. Everyday in the morning before he went to chop wood to aid her fireplace and then once before sunset. She looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t exactly pin it. She was enigmatic! And the feeling of limerence grew the longer she stayed. The way her white finely twisted dreads lay splayed out beneath her head, her thick white brows and lashes. How the shade appeared to enhance her skin and feminine features. Even in her time of nadir, she took his breath away.

Almost like a forbidden kind of beauty. The one that came with a dark past.

Those days had turned into weeks and finally a month had passed since her arrival at the stranger’s residence.

Ororo’s eyes had flashed open, white as her hair as she inhaled so much air that instantly burned her lungs and choked her out.

Sitting up, she placed her hand over her chest before gripping the linens that she wore. She wheezed as salty tears streamed down her face as she fought to breathe. Her vision blurred, her head felt so heavy and it throbbed with an achy vengeance. The words of her lover repeated in her ears.

I love you, Ororo. You don’t have to come back for me. If you find a perfect world, stay there.

She coached herself to steady her breathing as her snowy eyes had faded into something more human. Brown as the Earth’s soil. Ororo hiccuped as her awareness finally hit her like a ton of bricks. She scanned the bedroom for anything to tell her where she was. Or at least, which part of the Multiverse she had landed in.

Pulling herself from the warmth of the heavy comforters, she felt as if she’d been only asleep for a day. Her limbs and balance worked as they did when she was fleeing from the Sentinels. Though, it came with only a little bit of soreness. That was from the battering of the waves.

She whimpered as she rotated her arm to aid the soreness there. ‘Aah. Where the hell am I?’ The bedroom was a piece of paragonal work. Lots of natural light that was let in by 3 large arched windows and a large skylight window that made stargazing comfortable when night came. 

The furniture was vintage; carved out of mahogany and donned with gold handles and knobs. All of the furniture was dusted clean, the mirror at the vanity didn’t see a speck or smudge. A telltale sign that someone had been in here to visit her quite frequently.

With the bedroom’s cleanliness, came no clues of where she was. Ororo began to rummage and search through the dresser drawers and the nightstand. 

Breathing heavily as she felt herself growing anxious with tears filling her eyes, she felt herself falling apart. 

Don’t come back for me. 

Logan please.

I mean it, thundercloud. If you find a perfect world, stay there. 

‘Ooh! Fuck you, Logan!’ She exclaimed through gritted teeth as tears fell from her eyes. ‘Fuck you! Fuck you!’ She exclaimed as she slammed her fists into the mahogany wood that cracked beneath her strength. 

A loud thunder crack echoed outside, with a bolt hitting right outside her bedroom window.

Tiny bolts of lightning danced around her fists as she brought them up before opening her palms. The tiny bolts flickered before vanishing completely and a tear fell in their place. 

Wiping her snotty nose with her sleeve, she took a deep breath and wiped her tears with her free wrist. How was she going to make it without him?

The sound of 80’s rock and roll brought her out of her misery. The same kind of music they’d listen to together on his motorcycle when times were much simpler. She used to peel the clouds out of the sky or simply push them over the next city so they could go riding. 

The smell of his cigar smoke mended into his brown leather jacket. The way his thick dark hair used to fluff about in the wind and how he used to risk their lives by rubbing her arm when she held him tight.

Good times.

Ororo rushed towards the large wooden door and tugged it open with its golden knob. She was met with fresh air when she rushed outside. The sound of the music was no longer muffled by the thickness of those wooden walls. Yet it did echo and bounce off of trees in the surrounding area.

Quickly making her way down the wooden steps, she founded the calls and howls of the infamous Axel Rose. It didn't take her long to find the host; just a cut around the cabin and she was standing in front of it. Catacorner from it was a makeshift garage. Old broken down cars, motorcycles, and tires lie scattered about.

This looked just like Logan’s garage. A mess and unkept.

She felt as if this was all some kind of fever dream. 

Inclined to meet the person who saved her, Ororo began to journey forward until she came across a mature and very large Fir tree that sported claw marks. She walked towards it as the fast music became a blur in her ears. She ran her finger tips over the marks. 

9 claw marks but in threes. She knew only one person who could pull this off. 

‘Oh my god— JAMES!’ Her heart fluttered like crazy as she sped walked to the garage and pushed the doors open. ‘JAMES!’

There he stood, back turned as he worked on his bike. He wore his classic white wife beater, denim jeans and brown boots. His skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat as he squeezed the clutch of his bike. She was sure that he couldn’t hear her over the shouting of Guns N Roses and the purr of his motorcycle, so she reached her hand up towards one of the hanging lamps and shot a lightning bolt at it. 

A gleaming smile curled up on her lips with a twinkle in her eye.

That caught his attention, causing him to stand up straight.

There was a long pause before the individual reached over and turned down the old school radio that sat on the toolbox. 

‘You know it’s been a long time since someone called me that.’

His voice… He didn’t sound like the Logan she knew and loved. Though from this angle, he was the spitting image. Her smile remained. ‘Wh-what do you mean we—‘

The male finally turned around to face her. But the cloud of smoke from the cigar that he puffed on, made him impossible to make out.

She used to hate the smell, now she lived for it. Craved it.

‘You still smoke those-‘

Stepping through the cloud, the individual revealed himself. 

His hair was curly thick, styled up to resemble ears as if he were a puppy. The same way her James used to style his hair. He even sported that very same beard cut with the center of his chin shaved and his jaws furry. 

His eyes were bright blue unlike the original Logan’s, comforting brown.

Her smile faltered as she placed a hand on her stomach and took a step back.

‘Hmm.’ The man grumbled as he reached behind him and scooped up a white dirty hand towel to wipe his hands. He held his lit cigar in his jaw before taking it out with his clean fingers.

Ororo stood there, her eyes wide in shock and confusion. Her mouth opened to ask a question but the words just wouldn’t come out!

‘I didn’t think you’d ever wake up. You seem to be walking well.’

He was the one that saved her.

‘H-‘ she swallowed, ‘How long was I out?’

Tossing the dirty cloth on the toolbox, he placed the cigar back between his lips and inhaled greatly. And when he exhaled, another large cloud of smoke shrouded the garage.

‘Well,’ he grumbled, ‘You’ve been here for about a month. I uh— suspect you have no idea what’s going on… do you?’

A month? There’s no way I have been here for a month! I stepped in that portal yesterday! 

Ororo placed her hand on her neck as she felt her blood pressure begin to spike. Her body began to gently rock side to side as her stomach twisted and turned.

‘Wh-where did you find me a-and where am I?’

‘You’re in Alberta…’

Her eyes grew, ‘CANADA?!’

‘Some fishermen in Vancouver found you sleeping in a net with some salmon.’ 

She brought her fingers up to her temples and began to rub that spot when her head began to throb. 

And right on cue, thunder roared outside. 

Logan looked up at the roof as rain drizzled and created a song atop the metal. Then he looked back at her. She appeared to be fighting a migraine. And the more she fought, the heavier the drizzle became.

Then it clicked.

‘You alright over there? Need some pain meds?’ He mumbled with his cigar in his mouth.

‘Mmph! It’s okay just—.’

‘Uh-huh. Y’know, there’s been some dangerous storms going on. Tsunamis, Hurricanes, typhoons, the whole nine.’

‘Mmm.’ Ororo grimaced at the pain, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she clenched her jaw together. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘I don’t know. But, the storms started about 4 months ago.’ 

I’ve been here for four months?! Oh my god.

‘I think I’m gonna be sick.’ Ororo whimpered as her vision blurred once again from tears. Her chest began to heave and her heart thudded hard in her chest.

‘Oh, whatever you do just—‘

Barf. Clear bubbly flim mixed with yellow bile splattered on the smooth concrete. 

‘Take that… outside. Aw shit.’

The woman collapsed to her hands and knees as he rushed over to her aid. She choked as her insides forced and fought to be on the outside. The taste of the raw acid burned at her esophagus and mouth. The rancid taste only made her gag more. 

‘Hey, it’s okay.’

It’s okay, Storm. If we’re meant to be… we’ll be.

Her eyes turned white with tiny bolts dancing around them, heaving harder as she stared at the disgusting vomit.

‘You have to look away! Look at me!’ 

As soon as Logan snatched up her hands, lightning zapped him to hell. 

Fortunately nothing that’ll kill him, but it stung like shit. ‘Aah!’ He hissed as he snatched his hands away, fanning them painfully. ‘Fuck!’

You’re my strong girl.

Ororo shut her eyes tightly as the heaving turned into a sob. ‘I can’t do this without you…’

The drizzle had turned into a heavy pitter patter. Thunder roared outside, causing the tin can of a garage to rattle. 

Logan’s brows tugged into one as the burning tingling began to fade into his hand. He watched as the woman crumbled into herself. 

This wasn’t tears of fear or confusion. But of mourning and grief. He could practically smell the pain exuding off of her. Logan knew what it felt like to lose someone. To be completely lost in a world that didn’t accept who he was. To be alone. 

Reaching out to her, tiny lightning bolts reached out to embrace his fingertips as if they were familiarized with his energy or aura. 

They didn’t burn him this time, just tiny manageable pinches. He placed his palm on her back and sighed softly.

If we’re meant to be…

His mouth parted to say something, afraid to say the wrong thing. 

Ororo blinked her eyes open before looking over at him. 

He was almost the exact same replica of her James. That same mean scowl that she adored greatly.

‘You’ve got blue eyes.’ She said in a hushed tone as she stared into his eyes.

‘You’re very observant.’ Logan said sarcastically with a small chuckle leaving his lips. ‘What is it that they call you?’

My Stormsy. Hey there, my lil’ thundercloud. Hang on lightning bolt! Stormy. 

‘Oro—‘ she sniffed, ‘Forgive me but, I don’t think you’d be able to say my name, white boy.’ She scoffed.

Logan raised his brow, ‘Oh yeah? Try me.’

She tried to muffle her giggle but it fell through, ‘Ororo.’

His brows rose and he blinked hard once.

‘Oro—OK, do you have a nickname?!’

Ororo’s small smile from her giggle had turned into a charming grin as laughter escaped her, ‘Yeah,’ she sighed softly. He was just like him. From his facial expressions to how effortlessly hilarious he was. She was comfortable near him.

‘Storm. Just call me Storm.’

‘Now that sounds… do-able.’ His smirk curled up into a small smile before he felt a raindrop fall upon his shoulder. They both looked up at the ceiling. Another fell on his forehead.

‘Well, that would explain the weather.’ Then wiped his head free of the water and looked back over at her, then it clicked. He was a terrible host.

Her white eyes began to fade into her brown ones.

Glancing down at the barf, he then glanced back at her, ‘You must be starving.’

‘No, no. It’s OK, I’ve been too much trouble already just—‘

‘No, I insist. You haven’t ate—‘

Wrrrrr. Ororo slapped her hand against her stomach as it sang its hunger song, as if she could shut it up like a finger to a set of lips. She snatched her eyes away from his gaze and shut them in defeat.

‘Mmm. I thought so. Alright, up, up, up.’ He took his large hands and helped her to her feet. ’

Rolling her eyes at his condescending tone, she pushed herself up to her feet with his help.

‘Ya alright?’ He asked as he slowly pulled his hands away.

‘Yeah,’ The electricity vanished once again within her, ‘Thank you.’

‘Mmm,’ his head fell to the side, ‘Don’t mention it. Look, I’m gonna get this cleaned up—‘ 

‘James, please—‘ she paused. 

He looked down at her for a long moment. ‘You’re the only one who can get away with calling me that.’ Turning away from her he walked towards the far corner of the garage. 

Ororo let out a sigh and placed her hands on her hips. Were they all the same in every universe? Hardheaded and guileless. Arguments were always challenging with him. 

‘You don’t have to clean up after me, I'm not some kind of damsel in distress.’

‘Well,’ he scoffed as he picked up a bucket and a mop, ‘You were just kind of sleeping beauty for ‘bouta month. I’d say you’re pretty damn close enough. Oh, and— Aurora… mind easing up on the rain until we get the food here?’ 

Her mouth fell before she stammered over her words. ‘We—I—‘

Wait a minute did he just call me beautiful? Damn, they are just alike. 

And he left her inside of the garage to retrieve water for the bucket.

***

Ororo did not in fact keep the rain in check. Instead, when she went back into the cabin she found herself missing James more and more. But, how could she miss him when he was right outside? 

Oh, she was so confused. Stuck in a whirlwind of emotions. But she had to count her blessings. Who knows what would’ve happened if he didn’t find her. She could’ve been poked and pried at beneath wandering eyes. Chopped up in itsy bitsy pieces and thrown in a particle accelerator to be sold to the highest bidder.

At least that was more humane than the chaos that ensued on her world. 

A knock echoed in her bedroom and the sound of the knob twisting followed.

Ororo was bent over the vanity, checking for any oddities that the portal could’ve left her with. So far, so good. The door creaked open and she turned torso to the side.

‘Hey—whoa—‘

With her voluptuous rump in view, she rested her chin on her fist, ‘Your mama ever taught you to knock? What if I was naked?!’

‘Well for one, I did knock. And my mama, didn’t exactly raise a gentleman if you want me to be honest. Come, I’ve got Chinese.’ 

***

The pair sat in silence as they indulged on their take out. Ororo did her best not to inhale all of it so she ate slowly.

Logan chuckled, ‘That’s cute!’ 

Shit, he was on to her.

‘Mmm? What?’ She grumbled as she placed her hand over her lips so that she wasn’t spitting out food.

‘Oh nothing. It’s just you’re trying so hard not to kill all of your food. Eat! Trust me, you definitely need it more than I do.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She said as she stifled her giggle and took another bite out of her food. 

‘Right.’ He snickered and took a sip of his beer. 

The dining room grew quiet once again, soft thunder filled the silent void between them. Not necessarily on purpose but she was studying him. They were eating sweet n sour pork. 

James hated pork. He hated the smell, the salty-ness, the texture and the tummy ache and headache that it gave him after it all. She remembers having to cave in to buying turkey bacon. 

The things you do for love. The sacrifices you make.

James was also right handed. Everything he did started with his right side and eventually the left would aid it. Not that the left was as strong as the right, but when it came to swinging his claws, it always got the job done.

This Logan was an ambidextrous individual. Using both of his hands to work into his food without looking funny. It was so natural.

‘I can feel you burning a hole in my face.’ He murmured as his bright blue hues remained glued to his plate.

It was then when she finally blinked, ‘sorry you just— you just remind me of someone I—‘ she paused as her head fell into her lap.

Logan’s eyes flickered up at her for a second, reading her like a book. ‘Boyfriend?’

She remained quiet.

‘Yeah, I know that look. Sported it a few times myself. Would you like to talk about it?’

Oh she wouldn’t even know where to begin. Should she start with Mystique mercilessly murdering Senator Robert Kelly? Or how her blood contributed to the industrial process of the Sentinels that killed mutants or threw them into concentration camps? How this Logan sitting in front of her could be one of hundreds and maybe thousands of variants of her dead lover?

That was a lot to take in. He wouldn’t even believe her.

‘I—Honestly, I wouldn't even know where to start.’

‘I’ve got nothing but time.’

You take up all my time, Lightning Bolt. A punishment when I have to leave but a reward when I come back home to you. 

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she let out a gentle breath. ‘I’m —‘ Ororo tried to process it herself. If she hadn’t lived it, it wouldn’t have even made sense to her either. 

‘This is going to sound crazy.’ 

‘Trust me, I’ve seen and heard crazy. There’s nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already heard.’ 

He mustn’t be so sure.

Even that little comment was something James would’ve said. Verbatim. 

‘Alright.’ She sat up straight and let out another breath of air, ‘I’m not from… here.’

Logan sat quietly. She had his full and undivided attention.

‘I’m not from… here.’ She repeated.

‘Oookaaaay, I think I got that the first time.’ He sighed and folded his arms together. ‘What do you mean?’

Damn it was a lot harder to say than she thought. Perhaps she try a different approach. She would talk about… him.

‘My boyfriend… he uh— he was one of a kind. Smart, goofy, sweet… he was everything I dreamed of. He uh— and his brother had it rough. His family was well off… and in most cases the mother and father weren’t around much thus, was raised by their nanny. One night, some man comes into their home and kills their father. It was then when he discovered his powers. He grew—‘ 

Ororo glanced down at Logan’s fist as his fingers tapped against the table cloth. 

‘Claws.’ Her gaze rose to his once again. ‘He stabbed the man in hopes of getting to avenge his father… but it was then revealed to him that the stranger was in fact he and his brother’s biological father.’

Logan stared at her in complete horror. But he remained calm.

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew ya

She tied you to a kitchen chair

She broke your throne and she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.

‘What then?’ He asked before picking up his beer once again. 

‘He and his big brother ran away. Fought in World War II. Years later he met me at Xavier’s School of Gifted—‘

‘Youngsters.’

‘Youngsters.’ She repeated slowly. 

He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, ‘How do you— How do you know all of that?!’

Swallowing her spit, Ororo pressed her lips together, ‘I know — so much more, Logan.’

‘So what, do you read minds like Charles?!’ His voice was a little bit more stern than before.

‘Ja-Logan, it’s not like that! I—I come from a different timeline!’

His eyes grew in disbelief and he raised his hands, ‘Alright. That’s enough sweet n sour pork for you. Now you’re just talking out of your ass.’ He reached over to grab her container but she grabbed his wrist tightly. It was heavy. Just as she thought.

‘Has it ever occurred to you why or how a complete stranger would know your name?!’ 

‘Maybe you’ve been looking at my mail?!’

‘Your name is James Howlett! You had a brother named Liev, also named as Sabertooth—‘

‘What?!’ He chuckled.

‘You were born 1882! Here in Alberta, Canada.’

‘These are all things you can look up on google sweetheart.’ He said as he gently pulled his fist away.

‘That would make sense if I could use google in my sleep!’ She bit back. She watched as he pulled her styrofoam container away. ‘And I don’t think you added your Adamantium skeleton to the census.’

I did my best, it wasn't much

I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya

And even though it all went wrong

I'll stand before the lord of song

With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah

He stared at her for a moment before swallowing hard.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about? That metal doesn’t even exist.’ He added as he carried off their take out to the kitchen.

Now, she was annoyed. She folded her arms across her chest and slouched back against the wooden chair with her full lips in a slight pout. That was until she realized what he said.

‘Wait—‘ she quickly stood to her feet and walked into the kitchen, ‘I never said anything about Adamantium being metal!’ 

Logan opened the refrigerator to place the containers inside, ‘You didn’t? Well, it sounds like it would be metal. The “Tium” at the end of it adds the razzle dazzle.’ 

Ororo was growing irritated with his banter. So she snatched the refrigerator door handle and slammed it, not caring much if the food was in there properly. Her backside was pressed firmly against the cool stainless steel.

‘Hey!’ He glared at her.

‘You asked me if I wanted to talk about it and I AM—‘

‘I didn’t ask you for a damn biography on my life!’

Her head fell to the side before looking down at his fists. 

‘Show me.’

Logan stepped back, his thick brows tugging into one. ‘Show you what? There’s nothing to show you!’ 

‘I want to see them! Show me!’ 

‘Lady, you’re really losing it right now.’

‘I WANT TO SEE THEM— NOW!’ She exclaimed as her eyes glowed white with lightning and she raised her hand to cast a lightning bolt at his chest. 

The white electricity sent him flying back against the wall, leaving a large cave in, in its place. He fell to his hands and knees as he groaned and howled in pain. White lightning bolts danced and trickled around his torso, arms and neck. ‘GUH—AAUURGH!’ 

She hadn’t realized what she’d done until it was too late. ‘Oh my god! James!’ Ororo rushed over to him but stopped in her tracks when she heard the unsheathing of his blades. 

She blinked away her glowing eyes as he painfully pulled himself up to his feet. Bubbles of saliva dripped from between his teeth. At his sides were those infamous Adamantium claws. They were beautiful. 

She glanced up at him in caution as she began to slowly approach him. 

Logan growled, taking a step back as he breathed heavily through the pain. 

‘James please, I’m sorry! I know all of this sounds crazy ok? You have to believe me.’

‘B-believe y-you?! Hell, I d-don’t even know you!’ He sputtered through the pain.

The words pained her, ‘I-I deserve that. But I know you.’ She finally walked to him and reached out to wrap her small hand around his fist. Logan turned his head away from her.

Maybe there's a God above,

but all I've ever learned from love,

was how to shoot at someone who out drew you.

And its not the cry you hear tonight,

its not somebody who's seen the light.

‘In a different time— you loved me. And looking at you now…’ she placed her hand against his jaw and turned his gaze back towards her, ‘Means that I have a second chance. Think about it, you went all the way to Vancouver … you had no idea I was there but you came there for me.’

Logan stared down at her, his heaving panting began to slowly return to normal.

‘I know that you hate New Age music, I know that your hobbies include choking down cigars and chopping wood. I know that you love riding your bike on sunny days in the mountains! I know that you dreamed of living in a small cabin like this one.’ Her voice cracked as she did her best to fight back her heartbreak. He never got to see the life he deserved.

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

‘I know that you’ve moved far away to keep from hurting others. I was there, Logan.’

Ororo’s words were almost inaudible; being choked up with tears, she stared up into his eyes as she fought hard not to cry again. 

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

Sheathing his blades back into the safety of his knuckles, he reached up to grab her fist gently into his large hand. 

‘How much did you love me—him?’

‘Oh James…’ her eyes fluttered as a thick warm tear fell down her cheek. ‘With all of my being…’

Those words ached him a little as if he knew that she did, as if he witnessed her love for him. He’d fallen in love many times. But they never amounted to anything in the end. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

Maybe—

If we’re meant to be— we’ll be.

Ororo burst into a gut wrenching sob before Logan brought her into his strong, heavy arms. He rested his cheek atop her head as she soaked his filthy wife beater. 

Hallelujah. 

[sunflowersbones]

The Hand That Feeds - IV

Warnings: This fic will contain eventual NON-CON, DUB-CON, abuse of power, violence, emotional manipulation, alluded to Mafia!Bucky. My warnings are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

18+ only. This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary : Your best friend’s and yours entire lives have revolved around violence, death, greed and fear. You’ve always had each other and took comfort in the fact that none of this was your doing; you never had a choice. But what happens when time winds its roots around you, such that even when given the opportunity to leave, he neither leaves nor lets you leave. {mafia au}

~

You finish emptying your closet, as you get startled by your door bursting open, you’re surprised to see him here; but the anger in his eyes doesn’t surprise you.

“How’d you even get in?”

“Your mom let me in.”

“I thought she was out?”

“I caught her on her way out; she’s probably deciding to prioritise her friends now, considering her daughter decided that she wants to leave everybody,” he grits out. You heave a deep sigh at that.

“Seriously? You’re going to leave, just like that, just because of some guy and his incessant antics?”

“This isn’t because of Zemo.”

“Then why!?”

“Zemo just made me accept something I’ve always known.”

“And what’s that?”

“That death and violence will always be a part of this life, Bucky.”

“You’re scared you’ll end up like your dad.”

“Yes,” you breathe out, “our families are indulging in crime, Bucky; no matter how much they sugarcoat it, that is the truth.”

“Eventually you’ll have to bear the brunt of it; eventually you’ll have blood on your hands.”

“So let's just leave.” Your voice strains in pain, your distress seems evident, yet he says nothing. His eyes bore into you, with a look you can’t describe; his jaw clenched tight. There’s something about the way he’s staring at you that makes you almost uncomfortable.

“And what makes you think that I haven’t?” he says, barely a whisper, but you hear him anyway.

“What?”

“What makes you think that I don’t know what I’m doing?” He stands up and walks over to you. “What makes you think that I haven’t had blood on my hands yet?”

The entire air around you is still. Silence with Bucky has never made you feel this uncomfortable or unbearable.

“Never mind,” he sighs, breaking the trance.

“No, wait—what did you—when?”

All of a sudden, you feel Bucky’s entire weight on you. As your back hits the wall, one of his hand is on the back of your neck as he kisses you.

You’re unable to move; the firmness of his hands makes you whimper as he deepens the kiss; he bites your lower lip and tugs on to it as he stops to catch his breath; the only reason that your standing still is due to his hold on you.

You feel your breath hitch as he drags his hand down; underneath you skirt, you feel his fingers graze you through your underwear as his thumb toys with your clit. Your finger nails digs into his shoulder as you try to compose yourself. You feel your entire body heat up, is it anger?, frustration?, arousal…? you don’t know.

His mouth latches on to yours again and you feel his tongue glide along with yours and before you know it, he parts your underwear and slides two of his fingers into you.

You feel yourself getting wet as his fingers massage the insides of your wall, your toes curl as you feel the pleasure riling in; now, more annoyed at yourself, you smack his shoulder as you hiss, “Bucky stop it.”

“Marry me.” he whispers as his glazed eyes stare back at you.

This time you actually feel the wind getting knocked out of you. You’re unable to say anything except whimper as he increases his pace.

“I love you and I know you love me. You don’t want to leave, you’re just scared, so lets get married. It’ll put your mind at ease.”

You feel your legs shake as your stomach tightens and your core clenches as you feel your self come undone around his fingers.

You stare at him through your heavy haze and the blues of his eyes don’t seem so beautiful anymore. He leans in to give you a small peck on your lips, he sighs into it as he says “you’re not leaving; ok.”

You have to leave; you’ve made up your mind; everything that’s happened has made you more determined. Yet you feel despair creeping through you when your taxi gets stopped by a familiar black car on your way to the airport. However, you’re relieved when you see Steve walk up to you and not Bucky.

The ice in your coffee has completely melted, and he’s yet to say anything; the awkward tension hangs high in the air.

“I don’t have much time, Steve.”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you leaving all of us?, especially Bucky. You really think you’ll be happy all alone?”

Your eyes widen at the mention of Bucky. “Does Bucky know?”

“About you leaving today?, no.”

“But he’s been losing his goddamn mind because you refused to answer his calls for the past 3 days; how do you expect him to go on without you?”

“How did you even know?”

“That’s not important; the important question is, why are you sneaking out? Why are you leaving all of a sudden without telling any of your friends?”

“What about Nat, huh? How do you think she’ll feel when she finds out; you ever think about that?.”

“Bucky told me about how you feel, about everything.”

“What!” You whispered alarmed.

“I know that you're scared; you’re allowed to be. But running away isn’t going to solve anything.”

You feel the annoyance bubble up. “Oh yeah! What else did he tell you? Did he tell you that he’s an asshole?Did he tell you that he’s decided that he gets to choose what happens in my life and when it happens? Did he tell you that he hurt me!?”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”

His deprecating tone doesn’t surprise you. You feel your eyes tingle; you knew this would happen—that he wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t even try to. None of them will; Bucky was the only one you had a little hope in; and that got shattered into pieces. This is exactly why you decided to leave without telling anyone.

“You’re always on his side, aren’t you?”

“What no—this isn’t about picking sides.”

“No! It is, and it always will be. The two of you are always a team. I’m the extra; I’m the one outside. Always…”

“God; Y/N, if you look around for once, you’ll see that; that’s not the case at all; we’d never separate you off like that!. Especially Bucky, I don’t know where all of this is coming from.”

“He doesn’t even care for me as a friend!” You cry out.

“Y/N… He cares for you more…, more than anything in this whole world.” He sighs.

His solicitous words almost make you want to believe that he cares, that everything will be fine, and that you can move on with life. Almost… but you know better.

“I’m leaving.” You stand up to walk away when you feel Steve’s hand wrap around your arm. You wince at the strength of his grip.

“I can’t let you leave like this, Y/N. I’m sorry, but— you’ll have to come talk to Bucky at least once. Talk to him; sort it out. Give everybody a proper goodbye and then leave if you want. It’s the least you could do.”

The anger in his voice makes you helpless, and before you can retort back, you find yourself in the backseat of his car.

Steve was always too disciplined for your liking. You always knew that they were a pair and that they’d do anything for each other. You were proud of their loyalty to each other, but now…, you don’t feel that way anymore. A part of you is deeply concerned that even if you told him what had happened, he wouldn’t believe you; he would never choose his best friend over you, and that plunged you to even deeper depths of despair.

~

@scott-loki-barnes @cjand10

[starseungs]

➳ 11:11pm. hhj

hwang hyunjin x gn!reader

light(?) angst, bestfriend!hyunjin, unrequited love — 0.7k words

made this just to post smth while i finish my wips </3

2022 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

"Why is everyone in love except for me?"

Hyunjin passionately complains, turning off his phone to toss it to the side after finally getting tired of seeing countless happy couples on his feed. "It's almost insulting to be left out like this."

You side-eyed him without much care to hide the somewhat disrespectful action. It was on purpose anyway—you wanted him to see it to prove your point. "Maybe if you lessened your expectations for every relationship then you wouldn't be whining pathetically on my apartment couch."

"And lower my standards? No way," he gasped in an exaggerated manner. You merely yawned, already having expected his response. "I have a very specific vision only my soulmate would be able to recreate!"

"Yeah, right. Your soulmate is probably grass, because you really need to touch some."

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes on you. The sharpened gaze barely affected you after having gotten used to it for years now. "You don't get to scold me like this, you're literally single too."

You couldn't help but scoff at the words you unfortunately managed to hear. Hyunjin wasn't entirely wrong—you were single too. But you believed there was a major difference between both your situations.

"Unlike you, though," you started, pausing for a split second at the sight of Hyunjin's attentive stare. It made you want to cry. "I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

"Come on, Y/N! Don't you want to see how other people would react?" He tried to sell it to you like some on-sale product. "You said it yourself; you're not looking for a relationship, then boom! Boyfriend!" Hyunjin looks up at you with a proud grin, to which you find yourself holding your breath too.

"Mysterious, right?"

You grit your teeth. From the day you first met him as a freshman in college up until this very moment, Hyunjin had barely changed. Of course, there were many aspects of him that had matured, as well as skill wise also improved—but the Hyunjin you knew never changed in your eyes. And you could say that neither did you. He was still the same one you befriended, the one you held oh-so-dearly, and the one you loved.

That fact only made you even more opposed to the idea that would just break what was left of your sense of rationality.

"You're actually insane, Hwang Hyunjin," you tried to keep your voice as composed as possible. He would likely never notice such a small change either way, but you're a lot more cautious about things. "That stuff is for fiction books. Nonexistent in real life."

He snorts at your comment. "Well, you'd be surprised. A lot more people do it than you thought."

"It's stupid."

Hyunjin hums, surprisingly acknowledging your stance. "I guess it's just normal for humans to crave love… and attention. Mostly for the attention," he lightly laughs at his own words—something you had to clench your fists quietly to as a silent reminder it could never be for you. "Still it's for fun, Y/N. We both don't have significant others or anyone courting us, so who'd get jealous?"

Yet despite everything you just did, you knew that it would end up in your loss. It always did.

"Damn it, fine."

Hyunjin's face lights up, making your heart flip and shatter upon landing because you knew you weren't doing it for the same reasons as him. Unfortunately, you've immediately come to regret your decision as Hyunjin slips his hand into yours without a word. You gasped at the unexpected feeling that had the butterflies in your stomach, circling in chaos. "Relax your hand," you heard him say, and for a second you forgot the situation you were in. "It looks awkward in the photo."

Oh. Right. You two were faking a soft launch.

It took you less than a second to release the tension from your hand. You knew it was merely you losing energy from the disappointment, but you would never admit it out loud. At least Hyunjin seemed satisfied, though.

"Should we put a caption?" He ponders, glancing at you for help. You bit your lip at what you were about to say.

"11:11, my wish came true."

Hyunjin raises a suspicious eyebrow. "That's… very corny—even for someone like you."

"It's not real anyway, might as well go all out," was your pitiful excuse, snatching the phone from him to quickly place the words.

And as you pressed the post button, all you could think of was how you hoped this was real. But 11:11 would never grant your wish like you wrote in the caption.

Not unless Hyunjin wished for you too.

mastertag 🔖— @tyuniiz @lhskokoro @bookishcalls @comet-falls

send in an ask if you want to be added ! 🫶

[that-salty-ghost]

As Above, So Below | Chapter 11: Wake Up Call | Viktor [Arcane] // Male Reader | Rating: M Throughout

Viktor is leaning casually against the wall, two fingers pressing down on the blinds just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the chaos ensuing outside without drawing too much attention to himself.

“Is it always this exciting here?”

You decide to remain under the covers until all evidence from your almost-wet-dream goes away. You’ve never been happier about Syd causing a scene in your life while she unknowingly buys you time to compose yourself.

“Not even in the slightest.”

You rub your eyes and stretch out your back before moving from the cot, groaning as your name echoes throughout the streets. You make your way over to the window with Viktor to peek through the blinds with him. He smiles at you as you approach and takes his weight off the wall to give you a better view outside.

Lo and behold Syd is moving further back to look into your window and Viktor moves his fingers back to shut the blinds before she can see. A quick flick of his eyebrows reveals the small amount of fear he seemed to feel at the thought of being caught before he reaches for his cane.

“I’m sorry for waking you.”

You smile back after getting a good look at him. His hair is tousled with bed head and the dark circles under his eyes indicate just how much sleep neither of you got last night. A much different version than the put-together boy you met yesterday and a complete stranger from the guy that had his way with you in drunk dreamland.

“Don’t be. Has she been doing this for a while?”

“No, this is new.” He tilts his head to the side, motioning to the window. “But what were you dreaming about, it sounded like you were having a nightmare.”

Your eyes widen a little as that was the furthest thing from what was happening, but at least he didn’t suspect you dreaming about deep-throating him for the better part of the evening.

“Uhh, I can’t really remember. Probably that recurring one about the world running out of whiskey.”

“Sounds tragic.”

“It is.”

He grins slyly while you joke together until you both hear rocks getting thrown at your window. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.” You start finicking with the blinds and unlock the window while Viktor steps away to give you room.

You fling the window open after a particularly large rock ricochets off the building and lean your head out, the cold air that would usually chill your skin instead feels soothing as your blood pressure continues to rise.

“Are you out of your goddamned MIND?!” You yell at Syd, unflinching as she looks like she’s winding up another pitch at your apartment.

“You didn’t show up for your shift and Jeff is STARVING.”

Your brows furrow with aggravation. “What the hell are you talking about? I wasn’t even scheduled today!” You look to her side to see Jeff chasing a bug and throw your arms out in frustration. “And why didn’t you feed him—can you not handle a single biscuit?!”

She whips another rock towards the building at your insult, missing you but threatening your life with it regardless. “I shouldn’t have to HANDLE anything, I put you on the schedule yesterday before you ran off with the jacket that you STOLE like a maniac!”

You feel your entire being tense up when she mentions Viktor’s coat with him in the room.

You dodge both her accusation and another rock when you shout back. “You can’t just throw me on a shift last minute and then starve our child and THEN come here to tell me about it while opening fire on my apartment!”

If Jeff wasn’t next to her feet rolling on his back you would’ve thrown the rock that flew past your head back at her.

“I didn’t come here to tell you about the shift that you missed I came here to fire you.” She retorts like she just delivered the most understood news in town.

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes. An HONOR, SYD.”

“AND! Because even though you’re a deadbeat father—for some reason Jeff still wants to be here. He keeps taking off and I need to run my shop!”

The last comment must’ve gotten Viktor’s attention. You hear him start to walk over before he peeks his head just near the window to see the poro yipping at you. You get a glance at him and his enthusiastic expression causes you to pause until what she said registers.

“You’re here to file for joint custody?!”

“You’re taking FULL CUSTODY YOU SACK OF SH—"

You see Remy step outside from the shop to cut her off and wonder when he came in today. You can’t remember hearing any doors open all morning…but you were also…very busy.

“Can you take this anywhere else, Syd? You’re scaring my customers.”

His voice is exhausted like this has gone on long enough, but still has a small flicker of amusement in it while he tries to calm her down. You figure he must’ve heard everything since she arrived and look over to check on Viktor while Remy tries to prevent Syd from throwing another projectile at you.

You slam the window shut and shut the blinds in one fatal swoop, trusting Remy to take it from there and remove your assassin.

Viktor’s eyes are still big, full of excitement and a lot more ready for the day than yours so far. Your frustration wears away at the sight of him and you try to pave over the rocky start to your day.

“You hungry?”

The chuckle he holds back causes his chest to flutter before he answers. “Apparently not as much as Jeff, but I could eat.”

The way his voice remains soft even when you’re about to drop a piano outside manages to slow your adrenaline, but his boyish grin is what settles any residual rage in an instant. He eyes the bathroom before speaking again.

“Do you mind if I wash up first? I would prefer to not smell like vodka over breakfast.”

You chuckle and make your way to the espresso machine, grabbing a cup for you and one for Viktor.

“Of course. Help yourself and meet me downstairs when you’re ready?”

He eyes the second cup you put out for him and smiles softly with a nod. “I won’t be long.”

You gather up some coffee beans and start to grind them down while Viktor collects his clothes. He pauses at the tobacco plant, now with closed blooms and crooks a finger gently under one to inspect it.

Your mind travels back to your dream and how your imagination ran wild with how he rubbed his thumb on your cheek to settle you down. How light his touch was when he dragged his fingers along your chest and you curse yourself for being pissed at the plant again for living out your fantasies.

His voice snaps you out of your daydream and you try to slow down after catching yourself grinding the beans at an unnecessarily rapid pace. “I’m glad I got to see them open up.”

You wanted so badly for his phrase not to knock you back into all the dirty things the dream version of him said, but he pulls you back to that place without even trying. Rather than responding, you force a smile before he makes his way to the bathroom.

Once the door is closed behind him, you sigh heavily and brew a pot of coffee. The aroma fills the small room quickly while you change into some fresh clothes and pour yourself a cup. The yelling outside and the throwing of stones comes to a ceasefire and you sit in the lounge chair by the plants while you nurse your hangover.

You glance over at the tobacco plant and groan before closing your eyes and leaning your head back against the chair. “Don’t look at me like that you little bastard.” You mumble to yourself and give it the middle finger before taking a sip of your coffee.

“Did you just flip that plant off?”

Remy’s voice startles you, but you keep your eyes closed regardless.

“It knows what it did.”

“I’m sure it does.” The heavy sound of the older man’s steps approaching is paired with the pitter-patter of poro feet while they enter. “But what the hell did you do to get Syd that worked up?”

You feel weight jump onto your lap and look down to find Jeff trying to get a drink of your coffee. You smooth the fur on his head and find Remy making his way into your studio, eyeing the cot on the floor and then looking for the sound of running water until he turns towards the bathroom door.

“Apparently I didn’t show a for a shift that didn’t exist.”

He looks back at you and then the second cup next to the coffee machine. You know his mind is moving a million miles a minute trying to piece together the nature of your visitor, but you try to keep the conversation on the straight and narrow. “Syd was going to fire me regardless; she just wanted the world to witness.”

“No, I know that.” He picks up the mug meant for Viktor and cocks a brow at you, quietly asking if he can use it. You nearly freeze up but finally nod and he pours himself a cup. It looks like his wheels turning before he disappears into your kitchen and returns with a replacement cup to set down for your guest. The gesture is enough for you to pick up that he knows you care about whoever is in the bath and you shift your eyes back to your drink.

“You wanna use the kitchen for whoever is in there?” His eyes are kind when you look up, he moves his gaze to the bathroom and back to you.

“For you too, the least I can do for getting Syd out of here.”

Remy chuckles and takes a sip of his coffee. “In that case, it’s all yours. I got my hands on some decent ingredients for ya.” He slaps his hand on your shoulder before making his way back downstairs.

Jeff hops off of your lap and you get up to grab a vial of vanilla extract from your desk along with a small tin of cardamom salve. You hesitate before popping the lid off and lifting it to your nose. You grin to yourself while you quickly screw the lid back on and put both the items in your pack before you head down to R&R’s.

Despite several inconsistencies that your brain came up with during that dream, one thing was correct. Viktor smelled like cardamom and you had a hunch as to why.

----------

A/N: There's a whole lotta chapters on my pinned post if you're into this here fic

[racingtoaredlight]

HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE

LINK

I have found myself crying in public multiple times this summer, standing next to strangers who were also crying in public. I do not mean to suggest we were welling up or misty-eyed or otherwise feeling our feelings with some kind of dignity. We were not. We were properly crying, the sniffling and sobbing type, absolutely overwhelmed with joy.

I've cried after listening to music. Mahler's 9th is a piece that I think every person who loves music will be sobbing at by the end...it's essentially an epic musical poem about the composer's own death. Steely Dan's "Charlie Freak" is a song about reuniting with a friend who's a junkie, and who goes on to sell his last remaining possession for the fix that'll kill him. That shit hits deep.

Lets see what the author's referring to.

All of these tearful gatherings have been concerts. I wept when Taylor Swift played “The Archer” at her Eras Tour in a 60,000-person stadium. I bawled my eyes out when Joni Mitchell took the stage at the Gorge Amphitheater in Washington State for her first announced concert in more than two decades, as the sun set behind a venue overlooking the Columbia River. I was overcome again watching a fan cry-sing into Phoebe Bridgers’ shoulder onstage during a boygenius show.

Perhaps you’ve experienced this yourself, or seen evidence of it on your social media feeds: the videos, for example, of teary-eyed crowds with hands on their hearts as Ms. Swift sings, “It’s been a long time coming.” The Eras Tour, her first tour since 2018 and a sprawling, three-hour spectacle highlighting a 44-song set list, is simply the biggest and most extravagant of the summer’s great attractions. Beyoncé and Drake are also touring, each after a five-year hiatus. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band are back on the road for the first time since 2017. The Cure is touring. Ed Sheeran is touring. Luke Combs, with his hit cover of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car,” is touring. Morgan Wallen, with his No. 1 album, is touring. Boygenius, the supergroup that comprises the singer-songwriters Julien Baker, Lucy Dacus and Phoebe Bridgers, is touring. The only disappointment of the summer for fans so far is that Madonna’s long-anticipated Celebration Tour, a career retrospective, was postponed because of a last-minute health crisis. (It’s now scheduled to start in Europe in October.)

This is a rundown of the absolute shittiest pop music that exists.

I read this and I immediately think "I bet this guy jacks off to how many Twitter followers he has." This is why gatekeepers exist. Because if you don't have some socially retarded asshole doing this...

...then you get the legitimate retards running roughshod over the entire artistic landscape.

I can...and have...given you reason after reason after reason why Beyonce is not a good singer in any way, and at this point in her career is almost entirely reliant on studio tricks to make her music passable. Can you give me a reason not tied to popularity for why her music is good?

Likely not. And why is this important? Lets keep reading because, no, there obviously won't be something that gives spencer a heart attack in the next quote...

Back in March, a Live Nation executive told Bloomberg that his company was seeing “incredible demand” for live music — which now seems almost comically understated. Ms. Swift’s tour alone is on pace to earn over a billion dollars...

I know we don't live in a just world. In a just world, Taylor Swift would've been thoroughly ignored at an open mic night in Duluth, would get married, have a few kids, pop a few SSRI's per day, and her cheap guitar would collect dust.

Instead A SINGLE TOUR is on pace to earn over a billion dollars.

One tour. A billion dollars.

I like to use the Cleveland Orchestra's annual budget as a good barometer because...a) they're a top 10 world orchestra, and b) it's nice and neat around $50mm per year. For the whole orchestra...musicians, staff, travel expenses, real estate expenses, taxes, all that shit.

This one tour of a chick that wouldn't know what a secondary dominant was if you pointed it out in a theory book is EARNING TWENTY YEARS OF THE CLEVELAND ORCHESTRA'S EXISTENCE IN A SINGLE YEAR'S TOUR.

Spare me your bullshit about popularity and "listening to classical music doesn't get you laid" like you're all hitting the clubs and grinding up. She makes shit music, and fuckers around the goddamned world are lining up for it.

When a fire loses oxygen, it's gone. Money is oxygen.

Of course, part of the reason for these record-breaking grosses is record-breaking ticket prices. While the average ticket price for the Bruce Springsteen tour is an already hefty $250, thanks to so-called dynamic pricing, tickets have been on sale for as much as $5,000. And audiences — at least those who are able — seem willing to pay the extraordinary tab. No doubt fueled by the relative scarcity of big-name acts over several years, the concert has now achieved a new status. It’s no longer a casual entertainment decision, like a movie or a baseball game, to fill a summer evening. Instead, it’s more like a summer vacation: something you plan for, save for and splurge on, chasing the promise of a lifelong transcendent memory.

Idiots spend lots of money on stupid shit. Movie at 11.

With prices and expectations this high, performers understand it’s not enough to come onstage and sing a few songs. You have to be spectacular. Beyoncé’s tour this summer boasts a giant metallic tank and robot arms, and Ms. Swift’s set is like a traveling Vegas production.

I.e. things that are not music.

You know who doesn't need shit like robot arms and fireworks and bullshit like this? Musicians who are good at music.

Oh, and lets be doubly honest...people aren't going to see the music, they're going for social status. This Dead and Company shit might as well be renamed Dead and Cosplay...because anyone who was around during their heyday looks at whats going on now with fucking disgust.

Those with the means who are persistent and lucky enough might just snag a ticket. For everyone else, there’s social media — and there’s been plenty this summer for online audiences to enjoy. TikTok exploded in popularity when everyone was confined indoors, so this is the first summer when TikTok’s viral potential has fully collided with an abundance of live music events. The prospect of thousands of cameras fixed on a performer’s micro-expressions transforms each show into a potential melodrama — and buoys the possibility that it might be interrupted by a rowdy onlooker. Online you can watch Pink’s puzzled reaction when someone apparently throws their parent’s ashes onstage, or the time a fan threw a vape to Drake onstage, presumably hoping he might smoke it. Another concertgoer foolishly threw a drink on Cardi B — who threw the mic right back.

Idiots being the center of attention is the theme of this post, so why should we be surprised when it happens? The bolded part is what I want to focus on though.

Here's a news segment with the unedited video of the incident. Start at 0:08.

Now here's the thing...I grew up in an era where Milli Vanilli were absolutely ripped to shreds because of their lip syncing incident. Same with Ashlee Simpson on SNL.

In a few short years, a performer can THROW HER MIC WHILE HER VOCAL TRACK CONTINUES TO PLAY, and nobody will say a goddamned thing about it. That's how far we've fallen. That's how low our fucking standards have become. We can't even be bothered to ask our MUSICIANS to actually MUSIC anymore...it's all about the fucking spectacle. The show. The bullshit.

The fact that this isn't still being talked about on Twitter as one of the biggest musical scandals of recent vintage is beyond me. Forget the trash behavior from Cardi B...that's not what pisses me off...it's the fact that she can't even pull off the easiest possible shit in the world live, and nobody cares.

Perhaps chasing a social media moment, artists are getting interactive with the crowds: Everyone from Harry Styles to Shania Twain is willing to lend a hand with gender reveals and coming-out announcements. Swifties have turned the Eras Tour into a must-watch drama, as the extremely online fandom has developed rituals around show nights, including “surprise song o’clock,” the point in the show where Ms. Swift plays two songs acoustically that are not on the original set list. Online fans tune in to hundreds of live streams of surprise song o’clock on TikTok and Instagram, temporarily joining the crowds to revel.

All the available online theatricality hasn’t kept people away from big tours, though — if anything, it seems to have upped the urgency of attending in person. It’s not just a concert anymore, it’s the chance to witness a viral moment that everyone will be talking about online. You might even be the one to post it.

Why in the fuck would you encourage this type of shit?

Or, as I’ve experienced on multiple occasions, it’s a chance to step outside of life and feel overwhelmed in the best possible way. For all the extravagance of this year’s tours, I think our concert summer is being powered by a simpler idea: a reminder of just how good it feels to be in the presence of one another once again. At Ms. Swift’s concerts, fans bring dozens of friendship bracelets to exchange. Before the boygenius show, a fan created a TikTok group to help coordinate a secret project to surprise the band with a rainbow light display for Pride.

What the fuck have we become?

Halfway through the set at the Joni Mitchell concert, thousands of people turned their cellphone lights on while swaying to “Shine,” to create a moment that’s become familiar to anyone who has regularly attended concerts in recent years. But Mitchell, who has rarely performed since the ubiquity of cellphones, was deeply moved. “You’re stardust, and golden,” she told the audience (paraphrasing her song “Woodstock”). “You look like a fallen constellation.” Behind me, one woman remarked to her friend, “How can I ever take this cellphone light thing for granted ever again?” Her friend replied, in a tearful voice, “Honestly, how can we ever take any of this for granted ever again?”

"How can we take any of this for granted ever again?"

You likely live in a decent cized city or town or whatever. There are probably local musicians in this city that kick ass and put on an awesome show. Have you seen any of those musicians?

Likely not on any sustainable level, based on who I've been networking with. Because the local music scenes in just about every city...including cities like Austin and Nashville and NYC and SF...are smoldering shells of what they used to be. Wanna know why?

Because they've been taken for granted.

You know why shitty piped in music has replaced professional musicians at resataurants, clubs, etc? Because they've been taken for granted. You know why there fewer and fewer bars that have live music? Because they've been taken for granted. You know DJ's have replaced bands at weddings? Because they've been taken for granted. You know why there aren't any bands in your city playing original music anymore? Because they've been taken for granted. You know why orchestras across the globe are shuttering because of lack of funds? Because they've been taken for granted. You know why jazz is dead? Well that's jazz's fault, because it took itself for granted.

For "cellphone light things."

Look at the meme that festival posters have become in the comments. It's always "make fun of the two headlining acts, say 'who?' for everyone else." And I'm not saying this as it's a tired joke or it isn't funny...just that how many fucking festivals have we done this for in the past year?!?

What we're watching is the process of rot and decay. I certainly don't find it funny, but I was raised in a cynical household and have felt this way about popular music going back to grade school.

Wait...you know what? Lets shift gears abrupty and take a look at some other Joni Mitchell Quotes real quick...

“I heard someone from the music business saying they are no longer looking for talent, they want people with a certain look and a willingness to cooperate.”

“My heart is broken in the face of the stupidity of my species.”

“This is a nation that has lost the ability to be self-critical, and that makes a lie out of the freedoms.”

That last one...damn...that could have replaced my entire screed.

I'm just so sick and tired of this fucking bullshit.

[jiminrings]

can we get a fratboy Jimin and good girl oc with pinning from both sides 👀 ahhhh thank u in advance love ur writing!!

cherry king

drabble week: day four

drabble week masterlist

pairing: fratboy!jimin x goody two-shoes!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "y-you uhm, you-? y'know, you like... doing that? is that why it's your nickname?"

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

“next!”

great!! the line’s moving :D

that’s only like the 87th time jimin has heard the word next and it makes him wonder how much more would it take him to bring him to the front

(it’s actually only been 14 times and jimin might just be a self-admitted impatient bitch!!!)

he understands that yes, it’s ten in the evening!!! and reasonably-large stores/pharmacies like these can have less staff at the time compared to ten in the morning

sure, checkout machines and cashier lanes could be broken down!! or they could just not be open at all

jimin gets that alright, maybe the self-checkout machines are close at this time of the night because it is ten in the evening

what’s not clicking in his mind, however is that at the exact time that he comes here

as in the EXACT time that he’s here (!!!) — there happens to be dozens of people in a store at ten in the evening, and there happens to be a grand total of one (1) cashier lane

atleast random store music would be entertaining :((( all he hears are the beeps of a scanner and the chatter of groups of people who came here

jimin was eavesdropping on some guys in front of him and he wAS invested but lmao turns they were just discussing the plot of die hard or any testosterone-jacked movie like it

he’s also tried looking at the smaller middle-aged woman’s phone in front of him who’s scrolling through her facebook feed, but quickly decides against continuing it

because what if u could see his face and when she turns it off, she’d see a college guy deeply-invested in the baloney article she was reading about how subway sandwiches are the work of the devil

so uh yeah he’s just looking everywhere besides the front, back, and the sides of him and in all angles basically

he’s,,,,, aimlessly scrolling through his instagram feed he’s already scrolled through tHREE times and his explore’s page a little too dry

it’s a good thing that jimin’s entirely sure he’s the nosiest person out of this line and no one else is trying to figure him out

might be wrong though

“cherry king?”

hold the fuck on

jimin’s eyes widen, head snapping up and clueless to the fact that he doesn’t look discreet at all, and his head-cocking’s the most movement he’s done the whole time in this store

WHO’S SAYING HIS NICKNAME?????

it can’t be a coincidence either because as far as he’s concerned, there isn’t anything named cherry king that’s being sold here

there is literally NO other plausible scenario happening here besides the fact that someone who knows him is in the store!!!!

his gaze falls to the person behind him, brows knitted in confusion until it clicks

oh

that was you?

“jimin? huh, it really is you. i thought i was losing my mind for a second.”

“y/n?”

okay maybe hE’S the one who’s losing his mind here

he knows you!! you’re the smart girl in his year who’s known for being pristine and stuff!! you’re like the good-est girl he’s ever known and heard of

.... quick question lads is that weird to know someone by

“you could’ve just called me by my name, y’know,” jimin chuckles heartily, still a little dumbfounded to see you here but he’s grateful for the interaction nonetheless

you look casual today?? like you still look like yourself but everyone else would think it’s an out-of-body experience to see you out of your pretty dresses and monochromatic get-ups

it’s you..,.. in a hoodie three sizes larger than your size with your pristine shoes traded in for socked-feet wearing slides

jimin thinks that you look like grace under pressure

“i wasn’t sure,” you smile right back and it’s the first time he realizes that there’s glasses atop your nosebridge, softening your image more from the usual composed look you carried

“how were you sure enough to say my nickname out-loud though?”

jimin questions you, bringing light to how he’s wearing a plain white shirt and is looking as relaxed as ever with how he’s dressed — his hair long enough to be put into a messy sprout of a bun

you clear your throat, the amusement bubbling in your scratchy throat

“you have yourself as your lockscreen, jimin.”

oh my gOD

he winces when you say it, eyes screwing shut in embarrassment that he whines in pain with how direct you put it

“n-no way — fuck you respectfully, y/n. i-i’m not- i’m changing it right now!!”

does he look the vainest person alive rn

the way he has a mini freakout entertains you to your core, giggles unable to be suppressed as he finds the latest-taken picture he has of dogs that he comes across with

that’s 10/10 an experience he doesn’t want to repeat again

“it’s okay. i won’t tell anyone.”

he hears you reassure and he believes you, a flustered blush on his cheek still as he coughs to make up for a diversion topic he couldn’t think of

frankly, you’re getting bored too and jimin’s the only form of entertainment you have because using your phone atm would be too disorienting

“what are you doing here, by the way?”

your head tilts in query and he’s relieved that you address something else, not being relieved seconds later when he realizes his answer

“just a little supply run for our frat. we weren’t supposed to run out of things for three more days, so this is just a lil emergency haul for awhile.”

you nod in understanding, glancing down at his basket and uh

uhm 1/4 of the space is literally occupied by boxes of condoms

....

......

jimin’s confused to why you turn silent, thinking that he must’ve gotten boring to continue talking to until he follows your gaze to his basket

NO WAY?!]>|>]%%[%]%]

“i-it’s not l-like that!!!” he crouches and immediately gets the food and the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to bury the condoms in the bottom of the pile, attractively getting more attention from you who’s ready to let it go

“i-it’s not — it’s ours — n-no!! t-they just gave me a list and i just put it because it’s on the list b-but like it wasn’t my-...”

how many more times will the universe fuck jimin up in front of the person he has a lil happy crush on

you only smile meekly, tilting your head and he thinks this is the part where you tell him how much of a douche he is

"y-you uhm, you-? y'know, you like... doing that? is that why it's your nickname?"

:O

“t-that?” jimin clarified albeit confused, thinking back to his nickname as he tries to rapidly connect the dots to not look like a fool

cherry king? that?? what do you-

WAIT WHAT

“nO!! o-of course not!!”

he almost shrieks and his voice sounds ultimately defensive, shaking his head no

why does he look so frantic

“hey, hey, i believe you! — calm down, jimin. you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

whew

fuck

but he argues that it iS the truth though!!!

but why won’t you just ask him why he’s called cherry king though >:(

you’re already content with the silence after the conversation but he isn’t, still wanting more

is it so bad that he wants redemption D:

“how about you? what are you doing here?”

you don’t answer instantly and it’s because you’re nudging jimin to continually walk, the cashier looking much more visible now as he’s nearer in line

he takes a look at the handful of things that’s in your basket —

electrolytes, hot pockets, soup, cup noodles and fever patches...?

“oh. i think i’m running a fever.”

what???

what are you doing here aLONE if you think you’re running a fever???

he’s not gonna lie about the fact that you don’t look too good

what if you pass out and no one’s there for you and all the graveyard shift employees do is put a wet floor sign around your figure???

“y/n?? what are you doing here alone then?? are you oUT of your mind??”

the panic in jimin’s voice is clear as day and you’re a little startled, instead responding to tapping him on the shoulder to point that he’s already the one on the cashier

what he does is grab your basket before he is, putting it in front of the conveyor belt because he couldn’t even wait for it to roll out

“i said i think i’m running a fever.”

jimin stops from simultaneously rummaging for his rewards card and putting his items on the counter to unceremoniously drop the box of condoms down jUST to put his hand on your forehead

“you are.”

you surely don’t think low of jimin but you can’t help be surprised either at his concern for you when this is the only time you’ve had a conversation with him!!!

“you drove here?” he asks in seriousness, sending you a look while waiting for the total amount

“walked. the airconditioning makes me even more sick,” you answer with no fuss because even thinking about car fresheners while you’re sporting a fever makes you want to gag. “let me-...”

jimin already pays for both your items in cash, getting them bagged separately as he’s not gonna take no for an answer for what he’s gonna propose next

“then i’ll keep the windows down. i’ll drive you back to your dorm.”

he grabs both your bags in one hand and uses the other to beckon you over, holding you still because it’s dark out and a fever vision wouldn’t exactly help

it’s only when he straps you in and (true to his word) puts the windows down and starts his car that you start asking

“why are you doing this for me?”

why IS he doing this for you??

jimin thinks about his answer in a second

“would you do the same for me?”

well

if you were in front of him at a godforsaken line, had yourself as your lockscreen, realize that jimin’s behind you with a fever and is by himself in a store at 10 in the evening

“of course i would.”

jimin smiles, steering away from his parking spot

“then i would too.”

( ♡ )

maybe you’re thinking of jimin

no wait you’re dEFINITELY thinking of jimin

you’re much better now and your fever’s already subsided enough for you to go back to class!!!

the whole interaction with him was three days ago and maybe your head is just full of him at this point

“are you sure you’re okay to handle this by yourself??”

jimin worries when he drops your bag to your hands, briefly coming inside your dorm to set it down

“mhmm. i’ll just sleep it out.”

“i think if you’re missing a couple of steps.”

you snort as his paranoid features, waving him off. “i’ll eat. then go to the bathroom. and then sleep.”

okay good enough

“what if this just-“ jimin trails off, his expansive mind suddenly running as he points to your chest, “stops????”

cute

“i have a smart watch.”

“would you put me as one of the emergency contacts? please?”

he’s making you take down his number without malice because jeez he’s gENUINELY worried!!!!

it may not always be great sharing a house with his frat brothers, but he knows that if he has a fever, atleast half of them would dote over him and you have atleast one who would go into hysterics!!! it’e a full package!!

“i’ll be okay, jimin. i’ll call you when i need someone to hand me my puke bucket.”

“please do. i’m not even kidding. get better now because i miss your dresses.”

o_O

uhm

“n-no i meant your usual style!! wait, not that there’s anything wrong w-with your style right now. i-i was-...”

“yeah. i miss them too. now go home, jimin.”

“you sure?”

u never really had the impulse to invite a guy to go inside your place but maybe now you do

“mhmm. drive safe.”

okay

:-)

“good night, y/n. call me whenever.”

classes were a bit rough today because you’re still easing yourself on getting back to the groove of things, but it was tolerable!!!

you’re getting your key out of your backpack when a lock clicks open a couple doors away from you, the hinge noisily squeaking

it’s jimin who leaves it, with seri who’s the actual occupant of the dorm leaning on the doorframe

“y/n—!”

he squeaks the moment his eyes land on you

your hand automatically waves, the same meek smile for him to see

“jimin.”

( ♡ )

the last interaction you had with him is still on jimin’s mind, a whole week later

it’s been bothering him recently that you know what it looks like the last time around!!!! but he could swear up and down that it wasn’t

he just feels this great urge to explain even if you haven’t asked

“oh. so we have to move out for the time-being?”

jimin clarifies with namjoon, the head of the frat, and he’s met with a solemn nod

it makes sense!!!

the house got checked today and there were mULTIPLE fire hazards!!! and it needs to be fumigated anyway under new campus protocol so it indeed makes sense

practically everyone's going home because it’s a long weekend anyway because of a holiday

and he’s not sure if he wants to take the same route.

“hi.”

jimin squeaks the moment you open your door, surprise evident on your face but not shock to the point you’d close the door on him

“jimin?”

okay maybe he’s gonna go straight to explaining

“frat house needed to be closed because of some complications, and it wouldn’t be open to us for another three days. most of the guys are coming home,” jimin clears his throat, his head down while he shyly scratches the back of his ear, “i have one, but i’m not sure if i wanna.”

oh

it’s that problem

it takes one, two seconds before it all registers in your head, nodding surely

“you can take my bed. i’ll take the couch, it’s a pull-out anyways.”

you open the door for him widely and the only thing you ask if he’s had dinner and if he’d like some

god you’re really throwing him in a loop here

it’s after a batch of your cooking that jimin’s only ache is why you were the way that you were, half-dazed the whole time he’s met you properly

“why do you never ask me?”

“hmm?” you hum as you dry the dishes that you’ve used, wanting to get it done as soon as possible so your full attention would be on him

no, actually. jimin WANTS you to pry!!

he wants you to worm your way into his privacy and into the confines of his mind

but it seems like you’ve already did without even asking.

“ask me why i’m called the cherry king.”

you tilt your head in confusion, that time playing in your head of why jimin looked confused when you didn’t continue to ask further

maybe you’ll indulge him

“why are you called the cherry king?”

jimin smiles, leaning to your couch with his arms relaxed

“we did secret santa for christmas at our frat house. taehyung thought it would be nice if he pranked me by gifting me a jar full of cherries, but i thought that was his actual gift, and i liked it to the point that i finished it in one sitting.”

tHAT’S ACTUALLY PRETTY ENDEARING

cute, even

“ask me why i came out of seri’s apartment last week.”

oh that’s.,.,. that’s a bit higher in level compared to nicknames

“why did you come out of seri’s apartment last week?”

“because seri’s the ex-girlfriend of hoseok, my frat brother, and he wanted me to return all her stuff because he doesn’t want to be reminded of his cheating ex.”

well that was definitely weighted

jimin plays with the hem of his shirt, the words tumbling out of his mouth

“ask me why i love you.”

why do you wHAT

your mouth drops open, the new position you took on the other end of the couch taking an impact on him

“w-why do you love me?”

jimin’s a lot of things but he’s not drunk tonight

he doesn’t know why he’s letting his feelings slip either, but it’s the bottomless need that he feels when he’s around you

“i feel wanted. i feel needed.”

he smiles cheerfully even if he feels shy dropping this on you all of a sudden

“not sure if you want me nor need me, but i feel welcome with you if that makes sense.”

:)

“you just make me feel loved, i guess.”

jimin looks at you for the first time since he’s opened his mouth, an equally fond look on your face

you said no words but what jimin receives is a gentle tug, your hand on the side of his face until he’s leaning on your shoulder

“i wanna know what's up there.”

he points a finger to your temple, an amused lilt to his tone, “surprise me.”

it’s an unfolding of things that was weeks in the making but months in developing, the distant glances leading you to recognize jimin in the shop in the first place

“i feel the exact same with you,” you answer honestly and it makes his laugh from his chest, his cheeks warm and his heart content

and you just wanna suspend yourselves in this moment forever

“oh! and if i were to lose my virginity to anyone at the moment, it'd be you!!”

...

....

jimin swats at your shoulder to which you only giggle at, a toothy smile on display as this is the warmest he’s ever felt

“i wasn’t kidding!!!”

you yawn when you defend yourself, predicting that you’d fall asleep sooner or later on the couch, but for the time-being, you just stroke jimin’s hair to soothe the both of you

jimin is now the furthest thing from sleepy

"what? you told me to surprise you!!"

[kurimiaki]

T, R, N and P with Diluc please?

the uncrowned king of mondstadt, diluc ragnvindr.

yandere alphabet via dear-yandere! revisions i made are flaky so. my bad wwwww

cw: dark content, physical abuse, kidnapping, confinement, claustrophobia, extremely unhealthy relationship.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Just because Diluc may be attending to business elsewhere, does not mean you are free from his heady grasp. Distant yet coddling; his attentiveness is a curse just as much as it can be a blessing. You’re never without security, that much is true. Dawn Winery is his eyes and ears, every single servant wrapped around his finger, wrapping around and constricting you. Self isolation could never be a possibility, not when Adelinde ushers you out of bed without a minute left to spare, always in such a hurry, as if wallowing in utter boredom for days on end is anything of importance. From the very beginning, Diluc had made it a point to ensure your physical health was a top priority to those surrounding you; strict itineraries have maids silently mourning over their packed workload. A plethora of duties— take you on brief walks outside the winery, never longer than 15 minutes, feed and serve meals delicately planned and catered to your health, eyes and ears constantly watching, watching, watching. They keep you like a dog on a leash, no matter how pampered. They do so dutifully. They must. Who could possibly decline such a hefty pay at the expense of silence?

It would be a blatant lie to say your physical health had declined any whilst under his... care, however, the same cannot be said for your mental well being. He can’t, despite how much he hates his inability to do so, prevent your tears. And by the archons, do you cry. Diluc is unable to approach you some days, those days when the illusion of normalcy and domestic living he works so hard to put up simply melts away, when you can do little more than curl in on yourself and wretch into your silk sheets with a litany of tears flush in your eyes. He wills himself to allow you the mercy of a few hours alone, albeit with check ups and that blatant discomfort of his when you wail at the slightest touch to your shoulder. Of course, it’s a different case entirely when such cries are symptom of punishment— whereas Diluc will weakly attempt to comfort you with softened eyes when you work yourself up, flaky and visibly uncomfortable, his resolution is unflinching and unwavering should you choose to act out of turn. Wail, sob, beg and beg for mercy, for forgiveness, his mask of nonchalance will stay firm.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No. Diluc is understanding that the situation he has thrust you into may not be ideal, he anticipates a lack of reciprocation and overall resistance, but he feels absolutely no guilt. In his eyes, this is for the best, the world is much too cruel— who better than him to make that judgement for you? Even if you do prove yourself to be capable of taking care of yourself, (with Diluc himself to measure up to) this Darknight Hero will find every minute, minuscule little thing to prove you otherwise. Just about every one of your shortcomings Diluc will try and use to his advantage, to put himself in a better light. Who else is as capable as he is, who else can prove themselves worthy of your companionship, your devotion, in the ways that he has? The longer you stay in his grasp, not that the possibility of leaving will come otherwise, the more difficult it becomes to prove him wrong. He feeds you with the utmost care, keeps you healthy, entertains you should you need conversation or otherwise, and provides, provides, provides. There may be a lack of freedom on your end, but really, do you have much room to complain? Without him, you may very well be dead. He ensures that point is driven straight to your heart, however many times is necessary until you grow compliant.

His will and rationality is fully reasonable, in his mind, hence why his wishes to keep you by his side shall forever remain solid. Perhaps it is the idea of you keeping close to him that entraptures Diluc so entirely, for he is a distant admirer. He would be contented growing old and without your touch, merely sharing your company for as long as life allows. All the same, he wishes to swallow you whole, skin, blood, guts and tears, if only to keep you with him. It is selfish, but he tells himself that is something of which he is deserving. He must.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Diluc is nothing if not dedicated to his goals, a driven man in everything he sets his mind to. In order to maintain the position he thrives in, he is forever alert, forever adapting, prepared for any strenuous situation thrown his way. Should you push past a line you are never meant to cross, jab at him a tad too harshly, well... it’s not as if he gives no thought as to how to keep you in line. Rarely are you knowing enough of his inner workings to be able to push him past the point of no return, a point where even you, his dearest, are not spared from his wrath. Emphasis on rare, for he is wholly tolerant and gentle with you, to an extent. Any person has a breaking point, and Diluc, despite his detached disposition and stoic attitude, can only withstand so much. He bottles up so much to remain composed, after all. When he snaps, he is unable to hold himself back any longer.

He is not one to take pleasure from the suffering of others. Lest they truly deserve it, is what he’ll tell himself, to at the very least maintain the illusion of normalcy. Sway not from the path of righteousness, forget not the splendor of dawn. His mind is able to concoct the most horrific scenarios he could possibly put you through, for he does the same with his enemies. In a way, when you act out of turn, an instinctual part of him, cultivated after years spent at the whims of the dangerous and unknown, sees you as just that— an enemy. He doesn’t often choose the more unsavory methods to keeping you in line, ie: beating or threatening you with his vision, further keeping true to said threats should you continue. Diluc is wholly capable of restraining the urge to simply slap the snark off of your face (he had done so regardless, once or twice), and much prefers isolating you on his own terms, away from everyone and everything, even himself. It’s a small room, not even on par with that of your shared bedroom, much more similar to a closet or crawlspace.

A room, but a cage all the same. Splintered wood floors, dank cobblestone surrounds you and few cracks in the stone leaves room for bugs of all nature to crawl through, allows the elements to rain hell upon you should you end up locked up during the harsher months. A lone maid, not even Adelinde, the head, attends to you, sparing meek glances should you call out when she gently places a meal of one roll, a piece of meat, and a few shoddily cut slabs of potato. No begging and weeping and screaming you may do will soften Diluc into coming back for you- again, his resolve is akin to that of steel, his will forever unyielding. He decides when you are thoroughly broken in, and when it is time to hold you in kind, he shines through like that of The Darknight Hero the people proclaim him to be. In the end, what is necessary is that he shows you how much better off you are when with him. He’s much too possessive and to a point, coddling, to ever consider discarding you into the wild and at the whims of hilichurl camps and abyss mages alike.

His hold is firm and grounding. Had he always been able to hold you with such ease? Had he ever truly held you in kind, as he does now? He’s warm. A familiar, comforting scent of smoke and acidic wine fills your senses and him, oh, him. He had left you, left you alone, all alone, in that room, not even a room, all alone, and yet you can do little more than gag and writhe and latch onto him with pleas of his name whispered hoarsely— ‘Diluc, Diluc, Diluc’. A cry of your savior.

He can’t look at you, won’t look at you. Won’t give you the mercy, but he couldn’t be angry. Not anymore. He holds you tighter and so flush to himself, with a ferocity narly shown to anyone but you, not in kind, not with this passion. You smell of dust, a husk of yourself. Faintly of his sheets, faintly of iron, of vomit, of filth.

Fresh memories of your betrayal burn hot in his mind. He’s contradicting himself. He cannot relent. It comes out as a whisper, barely even heard to himself, and he curses his very soul the moment it passes his lips.

“Strive to do better. Lest you want your time there to increase tenfold.”

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He can bear with defiance and unwillingness on your part, to an extent. He can anticipate as much, for he is not delusional enough to fool himself into thinking your relationship is even somewhat typical to that of a normal couple, no matter how much he wishes that to be the case. No, for the initial few weeks of your captivity (he’s always gotten so mad when you refer to him as such, a captor) Diluc allows you to lash and sob and attempt to reason with him, attempt to soften him, attempt to hurt him. He’ll allow you to do so, but he himself remains impenetrable, unblinking, almost uncaring. He is prepared for about anything and everything, always expecting the worse possibilities as to save himself from further harm. For you, as well, he is constantly anticipating and observing. In hidden, minute little ways. It may even come as a shame to him if the fact that he enforces the maids to note down your every little move ever reaches your ears.

All in all, Diluc’s complete preparation for anything and everything you may throw his way makes him extremely patient, for better or for worse. Difficult to crack, impenetrable, almost— on one hand, the distance he keeps from you to accommodate for your lack of reciprocation may come as a blessing, but it makes it all too difficult to try and pester him into letting you go, to try and understand his goals and motivations in keeping you locked right away. Your complacency is inevitable, sooner or later, Diluc will begin approaching and weaseling his way into your routine in the smallest of ways, gradually and unconsciously causing you to grow fonder of his presence. It’s a slow process, one he had planned from the very moment his wishes of a domestic life with you grew much too much to handle. He loves you completely, yearns for your love, and for it, he will wait as long as necessary.

Blazing red eyes leer down upon you, your shame increasing tenfold for each second that passes subjected to that gaze of his. A fit of expaseration, you will admit, had sent the cutlery dear Hillie had so delicately prepared flying off of the white tablecloth and onto the hardwood floors, further staining the expensive rugs with wines and crumbs and oils from his favorite meal, a concoction of pasta and steak and cheese. He had prepared yours alongside with it, striking tonight as a tad more special than the rest. You didn’t blame yourself for what you did, not when he had proposed something as outlandish as marriage.

He keeps silent, leaning back in his seat, his throne, as if he were a king observing a mere peasant begging for mercy— quite frankly, you should be. But perhaps tonight he will be more lenient, you ponder, averting your gaze to the flickering embers sparking from the fireplace beside you.

He sighs, suddenly, worn and thoroughly put out by your antics, further embarrassing you by his facade of nonchalance. No, you could tell from the way his leather gloves creaked from gripping himself too hard, he was barely concealing his own anger.

“You hardly let me finish my scentence. Come, we’ll continue this conversation upstairs.”

[obey-me-rot]

You Shouldn't Be This Cool

A/N: Something purely self indulgent to kickstart this Obey Me writing blog. The idea mostly belongs to @warm-meelk because of how they drew their MC playing bass and then sprinkled in the fact that Levi would be the pianist and I just kinda...went from there q wq. And I also play bass so...all the more reason to write this!

Warnings: Levi trying to justify some of his more weird actions while MC seems to not only know...but enjoy the attention.

Levi wasn’t a creep, he was passionate.

He was passionate about TSL, he was passionate about anime, he was passionate about his idol groups and he was even passionate about learning new skills in order to better evolve himself into an ultimate fan.

So what he did today was not because he was a creep!

It was because he was passionate.

“Can you play that for me again, Levi?”

The third born tucks his feet on his chair, sipping up the noodles of his second cup of ramen as he watches the video feed from this afternoon. He smiles as the camera zooms in on your fingers, each one plucking the string of your bass absentmindedly while you listen to the melody he had composed.

As a TSL fan, he was ‘in the know’ of most TSL fan events whether they were held in the Devildom or in the human world. If they were worth the trouble he would attend and if it seemed like it was just a repeat fan event for one he already attended then he would just get the merch from the safety and comfort of his room.

Yet a completely new fan event had popped up on his radar one day, an online one.

One that challenged each and every TSL fan to create a song dedicated to their favourite lord.

Levi doesn’t remember much after that announcement, all he remembers is knocking on your door at devil knows what hours of the morning and shoving the music sheets in your face while pleading for you to help him out.

Your musical talent wasn’t hidden in the House of Lamentation. While most of the brothers could boast about having pretty decent singing voices or being ‘okay’ at certain instruments, your ‘weapon’ of choice was perhaps the most random but also well fitted instrument for someone like you.

You played the bass.

If he wanted to get specific, you played the TCB1006 Ibanez electric bass. You had mentioned in passing when you and him had met up to start ‘jamming’ out and Levi had retained that fact along with his hundreds of other facts that had to do with your particular interests and likes.

Again, because he was passionate...about your friendship.

The camera zooms out to film both of you, a happy giggle taking him over as he saw just how chill you looked.

How unfair was it that out of all the instruments you could play, you had to play the one that just made you look even cooler?

You were laying in his tub while he sat on the very chair he was sitting on now, plucking strings seemingly at random but humming some bars and trying to fit them with his melody. Your feet were propped up on the edge and the soft brown color of the guitar meshed so well with the glowing blue lights of his room that he is so glad he picked this spot for his hidden camera because you looked ethereal.

“I still can’t believe you composed this. It’s pro-level.”

“H--Ha! Of course! This is nothing but a piece of cake for me! If it's about the Third Lord and Henry then I’m all over it!”

Eyes take in the way you sit up and position your bass higher, fingers having a better reach as you start to ‘slap’ the strings in order to create a more wavy and deeper sound.

“Okay...I think I got it. Can you play the melody from the beginning?”

Oh here it was.

Sitting up, Levi puts his cup noodle down and grabs the nearby music sheets, pen already in hand as his attention on you becomes laser focused.

The beat you play is, well, playful. It is a high contrast to his almost operatic piano melody and he could almost hear himself playing a bit slower as if wondering if you had even heard what he was playing

“Uh MC…?"

“Trust me.”

Levi bites his lip as he feels his heart skip a beat, not even having to look at the screen to see that he was blushing. His past self was so predictable…

Although wasn’t his present self all the more pathetic for reacting to your words a second time?

He’d rather not think about it too much.

Your purpose had come shining through the moment Levi started to really hear the notes you were playing. It was almost as if you were mimicking Henry’s character with the bass. Cool, collected and eager to learn more about the world he had been thrusted into, your bass managed to capture the curiosity of Henry’s while his piano clearly symbolized the shy but deadly Third Lord.

The bass would go high, the piano would go low but as the melody started to harmonize so did the way your playing did with his. It was if he was the Third Lord, shyly peeking at the way Henry interacted with the world around them…

Only to turn around and invite him to join along.

His eyes go up to the screen.

You looked so happy, your fingers plucking away as he continued playing along with you. Your eyes turn to look at him and he almost wants to punch his past self in the face for not looking back. The camera had been perfectly placed to capture the way you tilt your head as you stare at him, chuckling as he clearly gets far too into the music for his own good.

To miss such an exclusive UR moment from you, he should be ashamed of himself.

“Haha. Thank the devil I came up with this camera idea!”

Levi blinks as he looks around, coming face to face with his beloved Henry as the fish stares at him from his bowl.

“...don’t look at me like that, Henry…”

The fish blinks.

“I wasn’t doing it to be a creep! I just wanted to write down the notes MC played before I forgot them.”

Henry’s mouth opens and then closes.

“And see! I even missed such exclusive moments from them! Look!”

He pauses the video and turns the screen so his fish can take a better look.

“5:06. I even timestamped it. Right here, MC is smiling and looking at me so cutely that it would be almost a sin to not record it!”

His fingers tap a couple of keys as he goes back to another point of the video.

“3:58, they smile and do such a cool trick with their fingers that I didn’t even notice that they stick their tongue out whenever they get too into playing! Do you see that Henry?”

A couple more taps as he keeps the video playing, the goldfish swims close to the edge of the bowl.

“I missed so many great moments all because I was so lost in playing! And I just didn’t want to ask them if I could record them because then they might think I’m using the footage for some sort of weird purpose and I would never do something like that to them! My Henry is far too amazing for me to just watch them one time! I just wanted to make sure of the notes they were playing! This is all for passion--!”

“Levi?”

He stops talking as he looks back at the screen, Henry swimming away while Levi tuned into the video once again.

“Was that good? I don’t know why but having the bass go a bit higher as I mute the strings feels almost like--”

“Like a conversation! It’s like the instruments are talking!”

Okay maybe this camera idea wasn’t the greatest after all, that was such a stupid thing to say and if he could go back and just slap the words out of his very mouch, he would.

Yet once again, his MC showed just why they were at the top of their ‘favourites’ list.

“Yeah! Like a convo!”

The conversation dissolves into randomness as Levi sighs and looks down at his sheet music. He only got a few notes down. Devildom, what was the point of having perfect pitch if he didn’t use it all the time? He straightens his screen out as he grabs a pencil instead of a pen, knowing full well that if he wanted to get this done he would have to rely on listening to you play and not looking at the screen.

If he finished this quickly then he would be able to stare at yo--it...he would be able to stare at it the rest of the night.

He goes to rewind the video but stops when he notices the scenery has changed just a tiny bit. You were out of his bathtub and looking at his aquarium, tapping the wall twice as some of his other fishes came up to greet you.

They were already so accustomed to you that he was sure even Lotan would know who you were.

Your attention goes from his aquarium wall to his computer, looking at all of his figurines and other merch he proudly showed off. A few more steps to the right and you were looking at his bookshelf--

Only for your eyes to lock with his.

He rolls his chair back immediately, his heart dropping to his feet as you reach out to the camera and pluck it from its hiding place.

No. No no no nononononononono!

This was it. You were done with him. Levi didn’t have a lot of friends but he knew that this was probably a friendship ender. His pupils contract as he sees you look at the camera with a confused look, already guessing your thoughts before you could vocalize them.

This weirdo was filming me the entire time. And he was hiding the camera? Disgusting. I’ll make sure to never come by his place again. What an absolute creep.

“MC...I didn’t--”

His jaw clicks shut as small tears gather at the corners of his eyes, not yet falling down his cheeks as he sees you smile and wave at the camera.

What--?

“Levi. If you wanted to film you didn’t really have to hide it. I want something to remember this session too. Next time you can just ask~”

You wink and Levi can feel his heart going from the floor all the way to his throat.

“Oh and send me a text when you have the footage ready. We can watch it together.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as you place the camera back before his voice rings out from the video, exclaiming about all the snacks he had brought. So that’s why he had found you standing up, and here he thought you were leaving…

Send you a text...the footage…?

His hands scramble to his phone as he quickly enters the passcode, blushing as he sees a new message from you.

“Mind if I come over again? I have a new bassline I want to show off.”

Levi puts the phone down slowly before getting up---

Only to immediately fall down, hands over his face as he curled up on the floor.

Of all the characters he thought he would be in a shoujo, the last one he thought he would end up as is the heroine.

Not that he was regretting it, this was perhaps the best outcome that had happened in his now not so miserable life.

[syllvane]

muscle memory pt. 3- sylvie x reader

a/n: i said i was going to post tomorrow but i couldn’t help myself. anyways, spoilers for episode 2 and 3 of loki, minor spoilers for the beginning of episode 3. final word count is 1.7k words!

read the previous part  read the next part   read the series  

“How is Loki doing?” You asked Mobius, walking with him to the mess hall.

“He’s doing great. Making real progress, I would say.”

“Didn’t you have to have a meeting with Renslayer this morning because of his actions?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. His face scrunched up for a second.

“It’s like every time he is making progress, he takes two steps back.”

“That sounds more believable. You still think he’s worth all the trouble though?”

Mobius sighed slightly. “I really do believe in him. It’s not just an issue of whether I believe in him though, it’s whether Ravonna and the Timekeepers do.”

“Oh, you’re on first name basis now, with Renslayer?” You turned and grinned at Mobius, who immediately flushed after realizing his mistake.

“Not a word of this to anyone.” He said strictly, although there was a smile on his face as well.

“Yeah, yeah.” You said, standing in line with Mobius as he ordered his lunch before sitting down at a two-seat table. “Ravonna and Mobius-”

“C-7.” Mobius said strictly, although you could tell he was partly amused by your antics.

You continued in the same quiet, sing-songy voice as before.

“-on a jet ski. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

Mobius finished taking a sip of his drink and then applauded quietly, so as to not draw attention.

“Has anyone ever told you that you truly have all the originality of a grade-schooler?”

Before you could answer, you were interrupted by a tall man with long dark hair speed walking over to where Mobius and you were sitting.

Although he seemed to be in a hurry, you could tell that he was sizing up everybody in the room, including yourself.

“I found- oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there. Would you mind moving so that me and my partner could discuss something?” He asked politely, even smiling.

You locked eyes with him, smiling back at him.

“I’m good, thanks. You can just pull up a chair.”

His smile wavered and he maintained eye contact for a couple of moments longer before breaking it, going to a different table and pulling over a chair.

(You ignored the pointed look Mobius shot at you, like he was asking you to be the bigger person here. Unfortunately for him, you had no such intentions.)

“Right. I know how the Variant is hiding.”

Mobius leaned back.

“Talk about burying the lead. How?”

Loki smiled slightly, this smile much different from his last- he was proud of himself.

“He’s hiding in apocalypses.” 

There was a moment of silence. You and Mobius exchanged a glance.

“Which one? There’s like a million all across history.” Mobius pointed out and Loki took a second to compose himself before starting his explanation.

You sat back as he explained his reasoning, watching with amusement as he put more salt and pepper into Mobius’ salad, handing him your own drink when he realized that Mobius’ drink was empty.

He gave you a nod of recognition and Mobius sent you another, even more exasperated glance as Loki poured your drink into the salad (although, in your opinion, seeing Loki grin like that made it worth it).

                                                             —— “How was Pompeii?” You asked, not even having to look up from the apocalypse case files to figure out that it was Loki who was approaching you.

He stopped for a minute, almost taken aback by your observation, before continuing and taking a seat in front of you.

“I was right, naturally.”

You scoffed slightly.

“Naturally.”

You looked up at him to find that his piercing eyes were already looking at you, almost curiously.

“You’re already sorting through the apocalypse files.”

“Naturally occurring disasters with no survivors, cross-referenced with the candy that Mobius picked up. You were confident that you were right so I figured I should start looking.”

Loki raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly.

“You’re smarter than you look. Could’ve saved me and Mobius some time.” 

“He forgot to cross-reference?”

He nodded, hesitating for a moment before he grabbed some of the files that you hadn’t started looking over yet.

You looked at him appreciatively, though he wasn’t looking at you anymore. 

The two of you sat there, looking at the case files in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before Mobius walked into your office as well.

“What’s this?” Mobius asked, taking a cursory glance at the file on top.

“Kablooie.” You said simply and Mobius sighed slightly, frustrated that he hadn’t thought of it.

He grabbed a couple of files as well, standing up as he started reading.

“I think I have something,” Loki said a couple of minutes later, splaying the case out on your desk so that everyone could see. “Class ten apocalypse. Alabama, 2050.”

You looked it over and even just with a cursory glance, you could tell that this is where the Variant was hiding- you looked over at Mobius and saw pride on his face.

“You’re gonna take my job if I’m not careful.”

“Now to pitch it to Renslayer.” You said and Mobius nodded, already halfway out of your office. He closed the door behind him and you looked at Loki. “I don’t think I’ve seen him this excited in a while. In fact, the last time I saw him this excited, I think we saw a jet ski on a mission.”

Loki smiled to himself, though the expression disappeared when he looked back at you.

“And what about you?”

“Hm?” You tilted your head slightly, caught off-guard by the question.

“What excites you?” 

You held his gaze for a couple of moments, feeling uncomfortable with how he looked at you, as if he knew something about you that you didn’t know about yourself. 

You finally looked away, standing up.

“We should go meet Mobius. We’ll be heading out as soon as he gets the approval.”

“You say this like it’s a sure thing.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Renslayer say no to him. Come on.”

                                                          ——

The rain sounded a hundred times louder when you were listening to it hit the roof of the Roxxcart, so loud that you could barely hear the sound of your own voice above the noise.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, positioning your reset baton defensively. The man standing by the plants seemed to hesitate slightly, although he was still much too calm for this kind of weather.

“Hurricane sale. Azaleas are half-off.”

“Could that be you?” You asked Loki, your eyes never leaving the man. Although his eyes continued to look between you and Loki, his gaze lingered on you longer.

“I… mean… I would’ve worn a suit, but it could be.”

You took a couple steps towards the man and he backed up, looking at you pleadingly.

“I don’t want to do this.” He said quietly and you tilted your head slightly, confused.

You took another step towards him.

“What-”

He grabbed your arm and a warm feeling came over your body.

A woman’s voice in your head lulled you to sleep, promising to bring you home and then everything went dark.

…

“Sylv, why are you acting so weird?” You asked, taking another sip of wine.

The blonde woman across from you smiled, although you could tell that she was forcing it for your sake.

“Another one of my suitors came and visited me today.” She said. You made a face and she laughed slightly.

“Complete fools, every one of them.”

“Fools for being deeply in love with me?” She asked, raising an eyebrow, almost as if she was allowing herself to play the part for a couple of brief moments.

“No, I’m above self-flagellation. They’re fools for thinking that they could ever win your heart.”

She laughed.

“And why is that?”

You leaned back in your chair.

“I have it on very good account that someone already has it.” You said and Sylvie‘s smile faded and her gaze didn’t quite meet yours, almost as if her mind was preoccupied elsewhere.

She looked back at you, her look apologetic.

The scene around you grew distorted, nothing quite clear anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

Her words repeated everywhere around you like you were in an echo chamber rather than…

Rather than…

Where were you?

The blonde woman that had been there a moment ago disappeared and with her, everything else.

…

When you came to, Mobius was kneeling beside you, waiting for you to wake up.

“C-7… are you okay?” He asked slowly, looking at you with more concern than you think anyone else ever has.

You propped yourself up and you looked around wildly for Loki or for the blonde woman- Sylvie- who had been in your head.

“Where are they?” You asked and you hated how desperate your voice sounded.

“They escaped. Take it easy, the Variant did a number on-”

“Mobius, I have to find her.” You said, trying to stand up only to be overwhelmed with nausea and dizziness.

Mobius supported you, keeping you from falling back onto the ground.

“I know. And we will, but we have more pressing issues right now. Come on.”

You didn’t protest, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to convince Mobius even if you promised to get him a jet ski afterwards.

What you had to do now, you would do alone.

He helped you through the portal back to the TVA and the rest of your team followed, all of them being immediately assigned to different Nexus events that were happening simultaneously.

You, being injured, were given the pass to stay back at the TVA. 

You wondered if the Timekeepers knew what you were about to do, if they could’ve predicted it- after all, they were the ones who had made you, right?

You headed to the sector of the TVA where they issued TemPads, looking at the data of where all the TemPads were jumping to and from when you stumbled upon something odd- there was a TemPad that only had one jump registered in its entire history.

TVA to Lamentis-1, 2077.

Huh.

The Variant- Sylvie- whatever her name was, must’ve found out a way to stop the TemPad from feeding data into the system, but it must’ve reset when she jumped to the TVA.

You grabbed one of the TemPad’s that were out of commission for charging, unplugging it. 

It was low on battery, but it would have to do.

You opened a portal for yourself using the exact same coordinates and time that they had put in and without any hesitation, you walked through.

[some-dr-writings]

SDR2 guys x intimidating looking but sweet S/O

Hajime Hinata:

·       You had been Hajime’s best friend for as long as he could remember. You were always so smart and the top in your class. Truthfully Hajime expected you to be invited to Hope’s Peak, but… you were always rambunctious. As smart as you were, you didn’t care for rules that existed outside ones of safety. You were labeled the school delinquent, getting into fights, breaking most rules for the sake of breaking them, doing whatever you could to get a reaction from others, all the while smiling and laughing away having the time of your life.

·       “Ah! Hajime! That’s amazing!” “Y/N!?” You scooped him into your arms, lifting off his feet, spinning around and around. “MY boy, going to HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY! This is amazing!” Suddenly your spinning came to a stop, stomping a foot on the ground to do so. “Hajime. Hope’s Peak is far, so you’ll be moving right? If that’s the case, you better text me every day! Okay, you don’t have to if you don’t want too, but at least keep me informed of the big stuff like how your first day was or the school festival or at least the sports day! Or, OR! If you’d like, maybe I could move with you, somewhere close to the school and I’ll just get a job in the area so you could just talk to me in person! I would visit, but even by train it’s a two-day trip and I’d probably get board at some point and get kicked off, and there’s also studying for school or work or whatever I do.” A light pink dusted Hajime’s cheeks, feeling a bit flustered at how excited you were, still effortlessly him closely, high off the ground. He swore his heart began to race seeing your absolutely beaming smile which seemed to shine brighter than the sun to him.

·       When with his friends he’d speak of you often, not to the point of annoyance, just enough for them to know he clearly missed you. From how he described you, you seemed to be the sweetest, most wholesome person in existence despite being a bit rowdy. So when Kazuichi caught Hajime holding hands and appearing to be going on a date with a person covered in scars exposed by your unbuttoned shirt, haired dyed a bright blond, scary tattoos, spiked jacket and boots, even having a mask covering you face, nobody believed him till Hajime walked in on the conversation, saying that was you. After that they insisted on meeting you, wanting to know such a seemingly contrasting person existed, and when they did meet you, they gave Hajime their approval, even if he didn’t want or need it.

   Izuru Kamakura:

·       Many things Izuru found boring, but if he had to choose one thing he found more boring than anything else, it’d have to be the baseless rumors surrounding you, his partner, all because you had a scary face. It was so ridiculous he couldn’t even entertain the idea of you secretly being the heir of a yakuza gang or something so off the wall even he couldn’t recall. Whenever he heard such rumors as he walked down Hope’s Peak’s halls, he thought he may just fall asleep from how tiring it was, thinking about the mental gymnastics people had to go through to even come to such conclusions.

·       It was another day and again he heard of your imaginary exploits of having killed a man in cold blood for money or some such and instantly he just felt exhausted. He continued to walk till he stopped before a door and knocked. “Oh, hey Izu-baby. What brings you here?” “… I just found myself here.” You chuckled, simply opening the door, taking your boyfriend’s hand and leading him in.

·       You promptly plopped him into a seat, going off to get something, Izuru had the chance to examine the many brushes, hair products and hair accessories spread out on the counter. There were even several sticky notes on the edges of the large vanity mirror, neat writing noting some appointments you had. Seems like he had come in when you were cleaning between appointments. “I found a new brush and I think it should work well with your thick long hair.” You placed your a hand on one of the back rest corners of the chair, leaning a little over him, smiling as you held said brush before him. “Then test it.”

·       You giddily collected his hair, your touch occasionally grazing across his skin. Your hands though covered in cuts, slightly dyed from all your hair styling work, and probably tired from having worked for almost six hours straight according to the sticky notes, they still were ever so gentle, making sure to not get caught on or pull any knots. Then you began to brush, starting from the bottom and working your way up. “Izuru, you have a few split ends, and it’s been a while, mind if I give you a light trim while I have you here?” “You have an appointment in forty-three minuets.” “Hmm… Yeah, I can get this done in time.” Once you reached the top you gave his hair a few extra strokes from top to bottom, making sure you got everything. “Oh, I also found a new shampoo which can help your hair. It’s still so dull, but at this point it might be because of your diet since I can’t seem to find anything that can work for you. Have you been eating? Has the staff been testing you on talents again and not feeding you?” “No.” You were going to ponder for a moment, to try figuring out what your boyfriend’s problem could be when said boyfriend placed a hand on your cheek, lightly pulling you beside him. Closing his eyes, he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek. “You’re so exhausted you forgot we spoke of this very subject yesterday.” “Huh?” Your entire face flushed a bright red, still unused to Izuru’s sparce displays of affection. Then to your confusion he pulled you onto his lap. “I-Izu-baby?” “You are taking a nap.” For some reason in that moment of seeing you so flustered he recalled the rumors. The thought of you even harming a fly was laughable, you were the absolute sweetest, kindest, caring person he had ever met. Holding you close he simply leaned into you, thinking you could both use a nap together.

   Nagito Komaeda:

·       You made your own rumors. The ones about you secretly being an assassin, you started it. The one about how you once were an international thief, you did it. The one about you selling drugs, that one was actually an accident, you were just getting a friend their pain meds, but you spread about a few more stories like it not long after. Why purposefully spread rumors many would wonder… well… there were two reasons.

·       The first, you found most people annoying and simply didn’t want to deal with them, content with your small, very close friend group. It was the perfect way to get people to back off so you wouldn’t have to deal with them in their first place. You also found some fun in seeing people run from you from your presents alone, made you feel like some cartoon super villain which you found quite amusing.

·       The second reason… You had always told your boyfriend the first one, but to his confusion, you’d always avoid telling him the other reason. Nagito knew you’d had to have your reasons for not telling him, but… well you were his partner, of course he was going to worry a little even if it seemed you knew what you were doing.

·       But he could ignore it no longer when you took the blame for him. Nagito came up with a plan to blow up a building, forcing the exams to be delayed so his classmates could have more time to prepare for them… and you took for the blame for it, being expelled for a time, but not forever. You couldn’t even stay on your dorm on campus, winding up staying in some cheap hotel paid by the school.

·       “Why did you do it?” “Eh, Nagito?” “WHY! Why did you take the blame for me!? I was trying to get you more time so you could show off in glory, but now you’re stuck here. Why did you do it?” Nagito was always so calm and composed, likely from facing disaster after disaster caused by his bad luck, but he was actually troubled, he was upset, but not even at himself like he always did thinking himself trash, no, he was legitimately upset with you. “… Normally people greet their partner with a ‘hello’ or something.” The last thing you were expected to be greeted by your first morning exiled from school was your boyfriend in such a state. “I- No. Y/N, tell me, why?” “… I…” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, this new side you had never even thought existed, yet you also couldn’t bear to look at him either so instead you looked to his feet. “I don’t want to lie to you, but… I don’t want to tell you the truth either. But! What I can tell you, is that this is fine, I chose this, I wanted this. So, you don’t have to worry about me, this just means I have even more time to develop my talent.” You tried giving him a smile, but it just ended up strained seeing that didn’t placate him. W-why? He always saw everything ultimates did was amazing and respected even the worst of decisions, yet… he was mad, and sad, and so many other things you couldn’t pinpoint not being able to bring yourself to study his expression for long.

·       “No, this is not fine. What you did is not helping you. This is only a detriment. I-I-I, I just can’t understand! I can’t understand why. How did this turn out so wrong?” “… the other reason.” “Huh?” You spoke so quietly, it was but a whisper, Nagito had just barely caught it. “The other reason… It’s why I NEED a bad reputation, not just something I want for the fun of it.” You sighed, preparing for the inevitable Nagito calling himself trash and you trying to comfort him song and dance. “You’re such a volatile wild card. I never know what you’ll do next. Nagito, you literally tried to blow up a building with people inside, I know your luck probably would have saved them or something or you assumed the ultimates inside would save the day, but… that’s not healthy! You’ve been through so much and need help. I, I want to help you, but I just don’t know what to do. So… to me, the best I can do is try to protect you.” Even as his eyes widened, realizing what happened, you continued. “With a bad reputation, rumors of all sorts, both extreme and little, it can be expected that I can do anything without it being out of character. I can take on anyone’s bad actions and call it my own and all will believe it… Even if I can’t protect you from the insanity that is our life, the very least I can do is protect you from yourself, the consequences of your actions. I can’t get you to at last see yourself as decent, I can’t stop your luck from torturing you, this… this is all I can think of for what I could ever do for you… it’s the only kind of affection I can give without you saying or thinking you’re unworthy of it… though I guess I don’t even have that now, but… I don’t know, maybe this was-”

·       …

·       He hugged you. He didn’t know what to say. He took in everything you said, yet his mind was just blank. He had so much to say, yet he just could… All he could do was just nuzzle into you, one who was just so sweet and kind, and… he needed to better for you, Nagito at least new that for sure.

   Imposter:

·       Imposter wondered how they ever were lucky enough to find a partner like you. They never thought they’d find anyone who could get them to see themselves as a person even without the disguises, let alone a whole class at one point. Yes, they still disguised themselves, but when they were just with you they felt okay to not keep the make-up, wigs and costumes. They were just… whoever they were without being someone else. Their own identity was something they still struggled with but working on it with your helped.

·       Individuals who could stay true to themselves no matter what were people they respected highly, that was probably what got them to fall for you in the first place. No matter who avoided you, the children who cried from seeing your large, buff figure, no matter the sports nuts who insisted on you joining their team, you always were the shy Super High School Level Flower Shop Keep who loved exercising.

·       When they first met you, they were masquerading as Beyakuya Togami, not exactly the most sociable of personalities, so they thought they scared you away. When first meeting a person you didn’t speak much, instead you’d gift flowers and spoke through flower language. “Oh, well… there’s a lot you can say with flowers. I’ve just always liked them. I just like being outside, so I exercise a lot! But then I got toned, and already being on the bulkier side some people find me scary… Ah, but if I give the children flowers, they usually stop crying… unless a bee comes by, then they cry again.” Even though you were so soft spoken when you did speak, it was still rather intimidating. There was just so much power in it.

·       They rather enjoyed how you’d decorate them with your beloved plants, whether it be placing them behind their ear, in their hair, or in their breast pocket. They also adored each bouquet you gave. Very quickly their whole dorm room smelled of fast-food and a light floral perfume. They pressed and kept every last flower, preserving them all even the ones from when you first met.

·       You were so open and honest, even though you tried hiding it they knew when you had a crush on them- or well Beyakuya… They had no identity outside of whoever they were impersonating, but… the thought made their heart ache. So, when you came up to them with giant bouquet filled with tulips, purple roses, red roses, alstroemerias, and baby’s breath they could easily see even as you hid it behind your back, a bright blush on your cheeks, they knew what was happening, and rejected you before you could give them the flowers and confess. You hugged the bouquet close as they explained their situation, and even after, you still held out the flowers to them. “So, your identity is more complex than I knew, but all our time together still happened. And if you change identities, it’ll be like a change in color. Definitely different, even changing the meaning, but the base is still the same, you’ll still remember our time together even as someone else.” And since that moment, no matter what came, you never left them.

   Gundham Tanaka:

·       The moment Gundham met the Super High School Level Vet, Gundham fell head over heels for them. They were an intimidating, brutish, scarred from battles past, every last feature was terrifying, their features sharp, everything about them commanded the respect of all, even getting his Dark Devas to be weary of them at first sight.

·       Caring for animals was a tricky job, it often involved getting scratches and bites, but you also needed to be patient and kind. You needed to be respected but also not appear hostile. A balance you embodied, looking fierce, yet you were so gentle and sensitive to others around you.

·       The pair of you always spent time looking after his many animals, tending to any injuries or illnesses they possibly could have gotten.

·       You also tended to Gundham Tanaka himself, much to his flustered, blushing protest. “I have no such injures of which you speak!” “Tanaka, you can’t even hold a pencil you hand is hurting so bad. Please let me at least look at it.” He kept refusing till some students came by asking if he were alright, fearing the scary looking person who kept looming around him all day. “Pathetic! Of such a low level you can’t even decern one’s true nature!” Then he stomped off till finally he found you. “My Emperor!” “Hey Tana-” “I seek thy aid, for only one of your caliber could even remotely stand a chance of resisting my poisoned skin, let alone tent to the curse that plagues this mortal form!” You just silently stared at him for a moment before you started fussing over him, clutching his jacket since you wanted to hug him. “What happened!? Did it get worse!? Tell me EVERYTHING about how you feel! Do you think it’s infected!? How does it hurt!? Does it sting or burn, or what!?” Gundham himself began to panic, unsure as to how to calm and put you at ease, never before seeing you worried to the point of tears forming in the corners of your eyes! However, you did quickly settle down, getting serious tending to his wound…

·       And even as you did so, you avoided touching him. If you needed to apply ointment, you’d use a q-tip, you’d do anything you could to not touch him… Even you tending to him sent his heart racing, showing vulnerability, he was used to giving the care, not the other way around. He felt vulnerable in a way, he showed you he was hurting, but you were so gentle with him, so aware of him, even stopping and giving him a moment to pause and collect himself.

·       Someone so attentive and understanding… He groaned, embarrassed at how giddy, and excited, and nervous even the mere thought of you made him.

   Kazuichi Soda:

·       He was terrified of you at first, even going so far as to actively avoid you. But then he met you. The moment he did so he was so confused as to how he found you scary? After actually taking to you, he found you, looks and all so adorable! He’d gush to anyone and everyone about how kind and amazing and sweet you were. He’d defend you to the death if a person even made the smallest negative comment about you, much to your complete embarrassment.

·       After becoming your boyfriend Kazuichi would always hang around you, cooing over everything that was you, shattering any intimidating precents you had with the man hugging your arm, speaking in such a sickeningly sweet tone with sparkling eyes.

·       Feeling like the world was against you, Kazuichi spent all his time with you to make up for it. No matter how many times you told him he didn’t have to he insisted on giving you all the affection you so rightly deserve!

·       When you weren’t embarrassed by the man’s antics you’d be just as affectionate in return. As he tinkered on whatever you’d hug him from behind, sighing, and nuzzling into the nape of his neck, tickling him, distracting him from his work. He’d giggle, giddy out of his mind at having someone so sweet and adorable love him almost as much as he loved you!

·       If Kazuichi caught even one person giving you a funny look, he’d just hug and snuggle you with a pout, glaring at others.

·       “Kazu, you don’t have to defend me from everyone. I know I’m not exactly the most approachable looking.” “What!? No! You are gorgeous! Adorable! Beautiful! Don’t self-deprecate yourself!” “I’m not, I just… I know you’re affectionate, but you don’t have to be so protective, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to do this every time. I just want you to enjoy yourself not feel like you have to be my knight in shining armor or something.” “Well, I can’t enjoy myself if others are being jerks!” Kazuichi would never admit it to you, but he felt guilty. He knew what it was like to be bullied, for others to make comments. He also felt guilty for judging you so much before meeting you. he was once scared with a person he instantly fell in love with after finally talking to them. He just wanted to make up for that, he wanted to say he was sorry… And feeling you hug him, thank him for being your knight, he was reminded all over why he loved such a sweet person so much, and he was determined to give you all the love he could to make up from being so cruel before.

   Teruteru Hanamura: part 1

·       Teru had a rather interesting relationship with the new delivery person. You weren’t mean, but your whole aura was rather intimidating with your cold demeanor and with how muscular you were. Yet of all people, you were warm and kind to him. You merrily chat about your day, or about anything. You’d get a laugh out of his flirting, even try and miserably fail at flirting back, something Teru found endlessly endearing. Whatever made Teru special he honestly didn’t care, just enjoying your company so much.

·       After your hard work, well hard for most but for you it was just seemingly light stretches, Teru would cook a hearty meal for you to keep you going for the rest of the day! It was his favorite thing to do before opening the restaurant, just that single quiet moment of enjoying a meal with you.

·       Teru could find something attractive about anyone, but with you… well you were certainly attractive, a stallion, a ten out of ten to him, but he found he so quickly grew feelings for you. True a person’s personality or voice could be sexy but there was something different about it with you. But whatever it was, didn’t matter to him, all he knew was that he just wanted to spend more time with you, and whatever you did together didn’t matter to him, as long as you were together.

·       You sighed, taking another bite. “Is something the matter?” “I’m just going to miss this.” “What?” You didn’t even glance his way, simply continuing to enjoy your meal. “Yeah, I gotta move soon. I’ve actually stayed here much longer than I should, but… I just couldn’t resist sticking around longer ‘cause of you… again.” “Ah, well… that’s too bad. It’s been rather fun having you around.” “It’ll be alright. I know you’ll be fine without me. Actually, I’d like to ask you to make a promise to forget me.” “Forget you!? How in tarn- AH I- Ahem- How could I do that!?” You simply smiled and laughed, just as you did before. You placed a hand on his cheek, gently caressing him with your thumb. “You’re the only person I can call a friend. I know you can keep this promise, that’s just the kind of person you are. Sure, you’re a bit raunchy, but you truly are kind and care for others. You could never let me feel guilty about leaving you behind.” Teru was silent for a moment, just taking in what you said. “When will you be leaving?” “Uh… I should say tomorrow, but I’m thinking a week.” A week? Teru could work with that!

·       “Please go on a date with me!” “… Huh?” In complete bafflement you just let Teruteru take your hands into his, a determined glint in his eyes. “If you’ll be leaving I want to make the most of the time we have left!” “…oh… uh… o-okay, we could do that.”

·       And so, the week was filled with date after date, going all out with no inhibitions doing anything you could think of from watching a movie to sky diving. Wherever you went Teru always had a packed meal on hand for the pair of you to enjoy. It was honestly the best week of either of your lives. And all too quickly it had already passed you by.

·       Standing on the bridge in the park you stood side by side watching the sun rise. “Well, that’s it, I better get going. I really enjoyed this, just as always. Thank you.” “Now hold on a moment, you can’t go just yet!” He held out a small plastic container to you. “You need a good meal for the road! Don’t know where you’re going, but wherever it is, it’d be a downright shame if I left you hungry along the way!” You simply stared at him for a moment before the softest, most earnest of smiles he had ever seen creased your lips. So tenderly you took the container. “… Some things never change I suppose… At least I know you can still keep that promise.” Then without so much as explaining your strange words, you disappeared as if you never even were there. It was sad for Teru, yet something in him knew he’d see you again, and that thought let him go back to his everyday life as if you never appeared, yet after that life just seemed more lively to him, just like those later years back in Hope’s Peak, though as to why that time seemed livelier he couldn’t quite remember.

  Nekomaru Nidai:

·       Being a rather intimidating looking guy with a heart of gold, Nekomaru took to understanding your situation quickly. Both of you being athletic and getting rather larger builds it just kinda naturally happened.

·       Being the exceedingly kind individual you were others often took advantage of that. Even if you knew it was bad you couldn’t bring yourself to not help others in need for even the smallest of things. This was not something Nekomaru could stand, but finding you standing out in the rain for two days straight was the last straw and the man insisted on training you! You were a bit nervous at first not wanting to take up so much of your best friend’s time, but with some reassurances Nekomaru managed to warm you up, both literally and metaphorically to the training.

·       At some point the training turned into days out, going hiking up mountains, or jogging on beaches, swimming in lakes and doing crossfit, sometimes going out for walks in the night, exploring the city looking for things to do, perhaps some karaoke, some slow dancing by moon light, and yeah you two just ended up dating without meaning too.

·       The pair of you always came up with excuses like the slow dancing was training in balance, no you totally did not want to dance because it was a beautiful night and you could hear ballroom music not far in the distance, no that was totally not it, that’d be dumb… or so you kept telling yourself in these moments so you would not confess to the man fearing he really did only see these outings as training and nothing else.

·       That was till you overheard Nekomaru chatting with his classmates, one of them asking how his ‘date’ with you went and he spoke of your beautiful hike up the mountains, not even batting an eye at their wording. Did… did he not notice, or just not care? Did this mean he liked you too? Or did you mishear? Quickly getting frustrated with this line of thinking you decided to just settle this!

·       “There you are-” “I have something to tell you!” The man silently stood there, just waiting. Okay, this was it, and you took a deep breath. “I… I REALLY LIKE YOU!” “I REALLY LIKE YOU TOO! YOU ARE A CHERISHED FRIEND OF MINE!” “NO, I MEAN- I-I-I LOVE YOU, I THINK!? I DON’T KNOW!” “I LOVE YOU TOO, A LOT IN FACT!” “N-NOT AS MUCH AS I LOVE YOU!” “OH YEAH!?” “YES! SO MUCH!”

·       Screaming your feelings for one another was a very common occurrence in the relationship. Even if one of you simply caught sight of the other off in the distance you’d yell ‘I love you’s, which more often than not scared or startled the people around you hearing such loud, booming voices out of nowhere.

·       Life with Nekomaru could be a bit much at times, but it was well worth it for such an amazing guy.

   Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu:

·       You were perfect for him.

·       You didn’t have any reputation really, but wherever you went people knew not to mess with you. Your mere presents not much but if one got close, they could feel this unsettling air about you making them go away. You, being the Super High School Level Street Fighter knew how to defend yourself from most attackers so Fuyuhiko didn’t have to worry about your safety like he’d have to with most others like the majority of his old classmates like Hajime.

·       You were also the most kind and sweet person he had met. Behind closed doors you’d always have you arms open for Fuyuhiko. You’d hold him close, just let him listen to your steady heartbeat and make him feel so safe and secure. His favorite thing was to just cuddle with you.

·       He also liked you being by his side, it served a dual purpose. One: if somehow when meeting some rival gang his reputation didn’t precede him, you were enough to intimidate them at a glance, despite his own baby face. The second and much more important to him, just being with you. True you were well equipped to handle yourself, but you were still human can had come back home to him plenty of times with new scars not from your usual fights, so by your side he and Peko could protect you.

·       He also liked how you were with his subordinates. You were strict, showing no signs of weakness, more than willing to put them in their place should it be needed, yet that didn’t stop you from being kind. You’d do research for days on end trying to find the perfect birthday gift them. You’d train their kids by hand in all ways of fighting, but not for attacking but self-defense, their parents were in a dangerous job so your ‘day job’ of being a children’s fighting instructor helped to place their minds at ease a little.

·       If he could he’d go on for hours singing your praises. You were perfect for him in every single way without a single doubt.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 28 - ao3 -

The answer, it turned out, was paint.

It wasn’t an answer that Lan Qiren would have anticipated in any way, shape, or form. He had been under the impression, as had Lao Nie, that Wen Ruohan had stopped painting long ago. After some teasing by Lao Nie, the man had even off-handedly confirmed it at a private dinner they’d shared at a discussion conference – there had been more than usual planned in this past year, accounting for the fact that all of the Great Sect sect leaders (except Wen Ruohan) were unusually young, and therefore active. And although no one acknowledged it as a reason, everyone knew that it was also meant to help calm the concerns of the smaller sects regarding the chaos in their Great Sect leaders’ personal lives, between Jiang Fengmian losing his servant to his beloved or possibly the other way around, Lao Nie’s extremely bizarre marriage situation, and Lan Qiren stepping up unexpectedly to the position of sect leader on account of his brother’s retreat from the world.

According to Wen Ruohan, it hadn’t been anything in particular that had made him stop painting, only a lack of time and then of interest; there had been a severe crisis some time ago, long before either of them were born, and he had been obligated to devote himself exclusively to those affairs for an extended period of time. When he had finally resurfaced, years later, he had returned and found an old painting sitting there half-finished, and staring at it, realized that he was no longer the same man who had begun it.

He had never painted again.

Lan Qiren was unsure if this was a real story or not – Wen Ruohan, he had learned, seemed to consider the truth about his past to be little more than a gentleman’s agreement between friends – as it seemed to be an especially pointed reminder aimed at Lan Qiren’s situation in particular. 

Lao Nie had certainly taken it as such, throwing in his own concerns about Lan Qiren’s work schedule, and when even Cangse Sanren had joined the growing mob of all the rest of his friends, Lan Qiren had finally, if reluctantly, agreed to defer to their concern. He’d finally taken a step back and reorganized his duties as sect leader, standing his ground against the elders and insisting on having more time to devote to his own interests, including those outside of his work as a teacher – music, study, quiet contemplation, even maintaining his training with the sword, despite the fact that he would never match his brother as a sword cultivator.

It had, in fact, made him a better sect leader, less prone to working until he burned out, and he was grateful to his friends for their wisdom and steadfastness in the face of his stubborn grief.

At any rate, though, Wen Ruohan was no longer the painter he had been in his youth, and the hints of burning that marked all such paintings that Lan Qiren had seen suggested that the transition had been an unpleasant one for him. It was a surprise, therefore, to receive, as a gift from the Nightless City, a painting in that immediately recognizable hand which was so freshly made that Lan Qiren imagined he could still smell the grinding ink.

The painting depicted a dragon amidst a misty bamboo forest, its massive coils interwoven throughout the bamboo until it appeared almost part of the earth from which they sprung, or alternatively that speared through from above by a rain of spears; in its claw it held a beauteous dragon pearl, shining bright against the dark haze that surrounded the rest of the painting, and its eyes were fixed upon it as if it had forgotten all else.

The pearl, Lan Qiren presumed, was himself, given Wen Ruohan’s fondness for comparing him to one, which Lan Qiren still did not entirely understand – while he knew it was a sign of Wen Ruohan’s appreciation for him, and an indication that he treasured him, he thought that the particular choice in the type of precious stone was likely to be due to the fact Lan Qiren largely preferred white and grey and silver for his clothing. 

(Privately, he had determined that one day, out of sheer spite, he would wear an outfit primarily composed of blue for no other reason than to give the other man a shock; he just hadn’t found a reason yet to justify the expense of having such clothing made when he would only use it the once.)

Similarly, the dragon was the symbol of imperial might, of overweening power and influence and even arrogance; naturally that would be Wen Ruohan himself. But as for the rest of it – the lonely but beautiful bamboo forest, often associated with moral integrity and loyalty, yet juxtaposed in this painting as piercing spears, penetrating the dragon’s hide as if attacking him – the dark mist that seemed to envelop the dragon, held at abeyance only through the light of its pearl –

Lan Qiren did not understand.

There were too many meanings possible, and he did not know how to differentiate between those that were there and those he only wanted to read into it. There was nothing for it, but that he would need to ask the artist himself what was meant.

When, as expected, an invitation came a few days later, requesting that Lan Qiren visit the Nightless City in his capacity as Wen Ruohan’s sworn brother, Lan Qiren accepted.

There were all the necessary pleasantries when he arrived, of course. No longer could he just slip in through the back door, a younger brother come to leech off some resources from an elder; he was the Lan sect leader, and that came with certain obligations even on a casual visit. There were a few formal procedures, and then dinner with Wen Ruohan and his wives, with whom his dynamics had completely reversed – Madame Wen had thawed towards Lan Qiren on account of his new position as sect leader, which guaranteed that he would never be able to move to the Nightless City and thereby obstruct her personal power, while the new concubine, former maid, seemed to think that his involvement in her ascension to the position she now held was a matter of embarrassment, resulting in her wanting to snub him whenever possible.

Wen Ruohan largely ignored their antics, his eyes fixed on Lan Qiren throughout their meal, and afterwards, he had finally dismissed them all and taken Lan Qiren back to the small study he preferred to use for their time together.

“The painting you sent was lovely,” Lan Qiren said, playing a little with the cup of tea that was warm and aromatic in his hands. “You have lost none of your skill.”

“I rebuilt it,” Wen Ruohan corrected, looking amused. “You ought to have seen the first few efforts; I think I wasted enough paper to feed a small family for a year.”

Lan Qiren smiled at the thought. He could scarcely imagine Wen Ruohan struggling the way he described, making an effort and finding his ability wanting; still less could he have once imagined Wen Ruohan having admitted to that fact in front of another.

It was a little like what Lao Nie had said, that between the two of them they were excavating the residual humanity left in Wen Ruohan, slowly and methodically moving aside stone and dirt in order to find the treasures lurking beneath.

“I like it even more, then,” he said, and decided to be a little bit bold. “I like knowing that you thought of me for as long as it took you to make it.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes curved in delight. “You need not be concerned on that score,” he said, his voice still calm and unhurried as always. “You are not so easily expelled from my thoughts, now that you have entered them…ah, little Lan, little Lan, you make me impatient! I had made plans on how to broach the subject with you, and yet now that you are here, I find myself rushing forward, intent to get to the point like some savage Nie.”

A savage Nie of whom he was exceedingly fond, he did not say, and Lan Qiren managed not to roll his eyes at him.

Instead, Lan Qiren put down his cup and folded his hands in his lap. “Don’t hesitate on my behalf,” he said, then added, a little dryly, “I’ve had enough indirect statements to last a lifetime.”

“Welcome to politics,” Wen Ruohan responded, just as dry, but his smile faded and his expression grew more intense; he stood and came closer to Lan Qiren, looking down at him for a long moment before taking a seat beside him. “Qiren, why are you here?”

Lan Qiren blinked, a little confused by the question, but before he could put together an answer, Wen Ruohan continued. “You are sincere and true to yourself; you follow your sect’s rules because you believe in them whole-heartedly and wish to live up to their strictures. Yet do they not say Do not associate with evil?”

“I don’t think you’re evil,” Lan Qiren said. “I think we disagree on what actions constitute evil, on what divides good from evil, and that you are more comfortable walking closely along that line than I. I think that there will be many times in the future where we disagree once again on what is or is not the straight path, and what is the crooked, but – fundamentally, I don’t think you’re evil.”

He considered the question for another moment longer, then added: “And if you were, what is there to do about it? You’re still my sworn brother, bound by oath and blood, and that makes you my responsibility whether I like it or not. Even if you were evil, the only thing that would be left for me to do would be to try my best to lead you out of the dark and back to the light.”

Wen Ruohan was watching him again. His red eyes were narrowed a little, his gaze as intense as it had been when Lan Qiren had been little more than a child, although experience had made it a little less overwhelming.

“You know that I see you as a pearl in the palm of my hand,” Wen Ruohan finally said. His voice was low and intimate, and Lan Qiren shivered to hear it. “A treasure I never expected to find, a gem of such surpassing purity that I fear it will burn me to dare profane it with my touch. Time is eternal; the pearl flows, the jade turns, and yet I remain, walking my crooked path and you your straight broad bridge, shining with righteousness. I see you and yearn for you both day and night, and even in my dreams…”

He reached out and put his hand on Lan Qiren’s. “I would have you be mine, if you would have the same.”

No hollowed-out puppets soon to be discarded here, Lan Qiren thought nonsensically, and swallowed.

“I am yours,” he said carefully, pronouncing each syllable at a time. He had to get this right, he thought, and he would only ever have this one singular chance to do so, or else he’d lose something as bright and shining as the pearl Wen Ruohan was always comparing him to. “I am your sworn brother, as you are mine; I will always be yours.”

“I know,” Wen Ruohan said, and it seemed for once that Lan Qiren had expressed himself clearly rather than muddling it up: he hadn’t misunderstood him into thinking that what Lan Qiren had said was a rejection. “If I were not one of those evil men that your rules warn you against, I would find it in myself to be content with that. But I am, and I am not.”

Lan Qiren wet his lips with his tongue. “You know what I told you,” he reminded him. “About how I – I could compromise myself if I had to, if it made you happy, but I don’t want to have to. That is not who I am, what I am. I don’t want to have to bend and yield. I don’t want to break under the weight of love the way my brother did.”

Wen Ruohan was watching him, patient and waiting.

“I’m not comfortable with that type of intimacy, the type shared between lovers since the start of time,” Lan Qiren finally said. “I don’t want it intrinsically, and I don’t think I want it logically, either. More than that, I don’t think, having never wanted it before and not wanting it now, that I will ever want it. My brother once compared me to a block of ice or a mountain lake frozen over in winter, frigid, and there was something true to what he said. There is no heat that will make me melt as others do…and yet.”

“And yet?”

“And yet you are not the only one who wishes to possess.” He met Wen Ruohan’s eyes. “I, too, would have you be mine.” 

His stupid Lan sect heart, burning a hole in his chest; it should have been enough to make him forget his own wishes and be willing to give in, to want to give everything to his beloved no matter the cost to himself, but it wasn’t – he wasn’t. And yet, at the same time, he judged his own affections to be no less than his brother’s for all that they were quieter and less flamboyant, understated rather than loudly proclaimed

Wen Ruohan leaned forward, bringing their faces closer together. “Then why don’t you claim me?”

“Because I cannot offer you what I should,” Lan Qiren said truthfully. “What you would expect –”

“And when,” Wen Ruohan cut him off, “have I ever cared for the expectations set out by the rest of the world? Would I have done half the things I did if I cared for the world’s conventions and determined my aims through their lens?”

Lan Qiren had to admit that he had a point.

“I know what you are,” Wen Ruohan said. “To taint you would be to ruin my own pleasure, to force you would be to deny myself – and I never deny myself. I am greedy, little Lan; I am not content with what the world would have me want, not when I can have what I really want.”

“And what is it that you want?”

“Lao Nie told me that he told you about his wife,” Wen Ruohan said. “How he stayed and she went, and they were still happy…I want that, with you.”

Lan Qiren frowned, not understanding.

“I want you,” Wen Ruohan told him, and his long-fingered hand traced over Lan Qiren’s cheekbone. “I want to have you, to own you, to keep you. I want to possess you down to the marrow of your bones; I want every inch of you in every way that I can have you. I want you to be mine – and I don’t need to fuck you to have it.”

Lan Qiren stared at him.

Wen Ruohan smile was like his smirk, triumphant and arrogant, certain of his impending victory. “If I want sex, I have my wives or Lao Nie for that, don’t I? To my wives I have only promised power, which I have given them. As for Lao Nie, I know now that he cannot promise me his heart: he is too facile, too free, too easy with others – he is compelled to share not only his body, which I wouldn’t mind, but also his heart, and I find that I am as unwilling to share in matters of the heart as you are to share your body.”

He shifted closer yet again, until their eyes were level with each other and their breath intermingled in the air between them.

“You will not be like him,” he said, voice dark and certain. “You’re barely willing to divide your attention to things you consider less important than your particular interests. Your heart is your clan’s curse and its treasure, taking you to the heavens and casting you down to the hells – if you give me your heart, full and entire, it will be as if you have removed it from your chest and put it in my hand. No one else will have any part of it, not like this, not in this way. It will only be me.”

“That is true,” Lan Qiren said. “I love no less deeply than my brother. My heart is a placid lake with a surface as clear as glass – you can see everything therein. Within it, there are only my interests, my nephew, my few friends, and you.”

Wen Ruohan’s smile widened.

“What exactly are you thinking?” Lan Qiren asked. His heart was beating in his chest so fast that it hurt. “If you want the assurance, you have it already: I am yours, and you are mine, and it would shatter me to let you go now. Is that what you want?”

“It is.” Wen Ruohan laughed, and it was full of pleasure. “Ah, little Lan! It is, it is.”

“What does it change?” Lan Qiren asked. “How is it different from what we have already?”

“It changes everything,” Wen Ruohan said simply, and Lan Qiren thought about and felt that he was right. “Knowing that you are mine makes it easier to release you into the world, to watch you shine and others see it; let them all look and know that it will never be theirs. All good things in the world are mine, and you are the best among them.”

“Pretty words,” Lan Qiren said, aiming for dry but probably just coming off as short of breath. “I’m a little more interested in the practical.”

“I would have you share my pillow while you are here,” Wen Ruohan said. “I do not need you to share your body with me, but I would have your company as a husband has his wife’s…and there are things that can be done without involving your body, depending on your tolerance.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Wen Ruohan grinned. “As it happens, that’s a matter I’ve given some considerable thought to…”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes, and felt the heat in his ears fade a little; he appreciated the small reprieve from the emotional intensity, the humor breaking the tenseness of the moment.

“You know I find you beautiful,” Wen Ruohan said, and this time his hand came to rest on Lan Qiren’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his lips, and as quickly as that the reprieve was gone. “Perhaps you would permit me to find my own pleasure beside you, gazing upon you, or even invite another to share the bed while you busy yourself with your work – you are never as beautiful as when you are focused, your soul and mind wholly absorbed in your passion for the subject. Perhaps I would invite you to read a spring book for me, spilling out dirty words in that cool tone of yours that you use regardless of the circumstance, so that I might torment myself with hearing you at any time and think of that…I have a thousand and one ideas, little Lan, and I would try them all to see which ones you like and which ones you don’t, to yield to your preference and glory in so yielding.”

None of that sounded like something Lan Qiren would dislike, he thought to himself; it really was only his own personal involvement in the act that he truly objected to. And if Wen Ruohan had Lan Qiren’s heart and Lao Nie’s body, and both their friendship besides, perhaps even he in his ceaseless ambition could find a way to be satisfied with what he had for a time.

“I would like that,” he said honestly.

“Then having gained a cun, I will take a chi,” Wen Ruohan said. “I would like to kiss you.”

Lan Qiren swallowed.

“…all right,” he said. “You may.”

And he did.

[jikookiekosmos]

Classified & Confidential || kth (Part 1)

➥Pairing: detective!taehyung/reader

➥Summary: It’s been years since your close friend passed away, case going cold due to lack of evidence. You never once believed the story the police gave you, since they classified it under an ‘unfortunate accident.’ Now that there are telltale signs of something similar at play regarding someone else you hold dear, you decide to take things into your own hands. You hire world renowned private detective, Kim Taehyung. And he goes above and beyond everything you expected.

➥Genre: strangers to lovers (kinda slow burn), detective au, mystery, angst, eventual smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.1k

➥Content Warnings: detective/mystery au, (tw: mentions of death, brief mention of suicide in relation to a criminal case, implied foul play, stalking behavior, non-graphic detailing of a crime scene), slight forensic talk, mentions of nervousness and anxiety, some cursing, mentions of cops/police, unhelpful law enforcement (like they’re kinda terrible with the whole solving this case thing), feelings of unease and tension, we get bestie hoseok, tae is kinda extra but for good reason, no suggestiveness/smut in this chapter but it’s still 18+ due to it involving some of the aforementioned warnings

A/N: This will be a multi-part series that explores some darker themes, and each part will have appropriate content warnings listed; please read at your own risk. This part touches on backstory and introduces the characters, things will start getting a little more intense in the following chapters. I don’t have any kind of specific update schedule but ideally I’d like to get updates out every few weeks at the latest! I hope you look forward to this, and if you wanna be added to a taglist, please let me know~

Thank you @dntaewithluv​​​​ for your constant motivation and support (and for always beta-reading for me, even when we scream at each other about our ideas); hopefully I do Tae justice for you! I love you lots ❤️

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @mwitsmejk​ @bangtanhome

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

5 Years Ago

The night sky was dark, blanketed by stars as it emitted a peaceful aura. There was no way to bask in the calmness of the night, however, with all the hustle and bustle that surrounded you outside of the apartment complex.

Crime scene tape marked off the area, and many onlookers had gathered to try and get a glimpse of what happened. You were one yourself, but you weren’t there out of sheer curiosity.

Your breathing was ragged, staggered, as you tried to hold yourself together and observed the scene in front of you unfold.

Police wouldn’t let you beyond the tape, despite knowing the person currently covered by the white tarp.

Minutes prior, one of the cops had been politely trying to hold you back as you thrashed around, mind muddled by the vision of your best friend’s face before the tarp concealed it.

“I’m sorry, we can’t let anyone unauthorized come past this tape, please stay where you are.”

“You don’t understand, that’s my best friend, please let me through, please-”

You couldn’t control the volume of your screams, prompting a few of the other bystanders to try and calm you down seeing as you were very clearly distraught.

An unknown amount of time passed before the thickest part of the crowd decided they’d had enough excitement for one night, retiring to their own homes. You stayed planted in your spot, prepared to not move until you got more of an explanation for what was going on.

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that if someone wanted you to leave, they’d have to do it by force, but you eventually complied after two cops convinced you to come down to the station and issue a statement, given your relation to the victim.

They didn’t grill you hard, which was something you appreciated at the time, since you were really in no state to handle a grueling interrogation. You knew you could be marked down as a potential suspect, but everything from their investigation pointed to them believing it had either been an accident or a possible suicide attempt, the latter of which would almost entirely exclude your involvement.

Over the next few weeks, you cooperated with the investigation and helped them with whatever leads you could provide; you were determined that foul play was involved, because you knew your best friend better than anyone, and the story the cops were feeding you wasn’t adding up.

The theory as you knew it was this: she jumped from her apartment window, which was up a significant amount of stories, more than enough to kill a person. A potential suicide note was found at the scene on the nightstand by her bed, typed on a sheet of paper, so handwriting analysis wasn’t an option. The apartment was undisturbed aside from the window having been open.

It almost seemed like a cut-and-dried case, aside from one other small factor: unknown DNA from a hair follicle was found in the apartment alongside the victim’s own.

This didn’t surprise you…at first. You knew Ky had been perusing multiple dating apps and would often invite people over to her place after successful dates. But as far as you also knew, Ky hadn’t recently been on any dates, so there wasn’t a clear reason for that DNA to show up.

Ky had told you in the weeks leading up to her death that she was afraid someone had been following her around, and it unsettled her so much so that she deleted all the dating apps on her phone until she felt safe again.

Sadly, that day never came, and this fact alone caused the nagging suspicion of foul play to burrow itself even deeper into your subconscious.

Since the DNA was unknown, tracing it would be no easy task, but that didn’t stop you. Anything you could do to shed light on what had actually occurred, you were going to do it, plain and simple.

Which is why when the police decided to close the file on the case and label it as an ‘unfortunate accident,’ you were floored.

You begged them to keep focusing on leads when there really weren’t any, offering to aid in any way you could because there was no way that there wasn’t something missing.

Their response?

“Go home, Y/N, there’s nothing else you can do.”

You left the station that day only after you had caused somewhat of a scene, arguing back and forth with one of the lead detectives until you were ‘carefully escorted’ outside. Enraged, you banged your hand against the glass of the door before you slid down the wall beside it, hugging your knees as you tried to compose yourself.

You weren’t sitting that way for long before you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. You looked up reluctantly and were met with one of the softest pairs of eyes you’d ever seen.

The stranger offered you a kind smile, one that made your heart ache in the aftermath of everything you’d endured the last several weeks. You’d been tackling this situation all on your own, with barely any help from mutual friends or Ky’s family since she’d been estranged from them.

But now, this man stooped down in front of you and smiling at you like everything would be alright…

It almost made you want to believe it.

“Hi, I uh, couldn’t help but overhear about your situation,” he finally spoke up, sounding somewhat bashful. He had bright red hair that peeked out under a cap he wore, and he was sporting a rainbow colored sweater.

A tinge of embarrassment fluttered through you. “Oh. Sorry you had to witness that.”

So this random stranger heard you telling off the police by yelling at them in broad daylight. Way to make a first impression.

To your surprise, he simply shook his head, smile widening. “No, don’t be sorry! I was, uh – happy to be able to listen.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Ok…may I ask why?”

“Well,” there was that bashful tone again, hand flying to the back of his neck as he looked to the side, “I’d been coming up here for a while, hoping to hear something regarding this case specifically. Usually when I stop by, there isn’t much going on and it’s not like I can just walk in and ask for classified information-”

He stopped speaking immediately once you held up your hand. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were thoroughly confused.

“Is there a reason why you’re eavesdropping for information about this case?”

He nodded eagerly. “Sure is! See, I’m working as a crime reporter, and-”

You scoffed as you pushed yourself to a standing position. “Unbelievable.”

Without sparing another glance to the gentleman, you shouldered past him, earlier hopeful mood soured by the fact that he was just another person looking for a scoop about Ky’s demise.

He was quick to follow, almost jumping down the steps to catch up to you.

“Hey, wait! Please.”

The way he begged pulled at your heartstrings because of how genuine he sounded, and for reasons beyond you, you turned around to face him and decided to hear him out.

You crossed your arms as he sighed with relief.

“Thank you. Ok, to start with, I’m a crime reporter, but I’m not trying to report on this case as everyone knows it.”

Another eyebrow raise from you. “What do you mean?”

The man smiled shyly, brushing away the red hair in his eyes. “I want to bring the injustice of the system to the public’s attention.”

That got your attention. “You do?”

“Yes. And I think your story could help with that.”

“My story?”

He nodded again, this time more eager than the last. “You’re pretty adamant that what happened to your friend was no accident, am I correct?”

Any mention of Ky caused the dull pain in your chest to come back, but at least this time, she wasn’t being mentioned in a gruesome or negative light.

“Yeah, I really don’t think it was an accident. But no one believes me.” You looked down at your shoes, scuffling one against the pavement.

You only looked up again when you felt the stranger’s hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you.”

All of the breath was knocked out of you.

“You…you believe me?”

The smile he gave you this time was bright and sincere as he dropped his hand by his side. “I do. I’ve been following everything posted online or in the newspaper about this case, and some of it just really does not seem plausible. And then after hearing you today, it made so much sense as to why.”

It still bothered you a bit that you were loud enough in the station to be heard outside, but that worry was now being overshadowed by the possibility of having someone else who could stand by you on your conviction.

“It…really means a lot to me that you would even consider my side of things. Truthfully, I think the police only tolerated me this long due to protocol.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

The red-haired man grimaced at your remark. “Yeah, no kidding. For as long as I’ve been in this line of work, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them take things as seriously as they should.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About a year. But trust me, I’ve seen a lot during that time.” His determined expression might have made you giggle under other circumstances because it clashed so much with the rest of his soft demeanor.

“I don’t doubt it.” You walked over to the nearby bench seated a few feet away and the stranger followed hesitantly, only sitting beside you when you didn’t give him any indication his presence was unwanted.

The both of you turned toward each other slightly before you spoke up again.

“So, how can I help you with what you’re wanting to do?”

He seemed pleased that you were on board, eyes shining. “For starters, do you think I could interview you? I’d have to ask some sensitive questions, but I feel like I could have a better understanding of the case that way…only if you’re comfortable, though.”

You swallowed as you thought it over. Your participation in the numerous interrogations during the investigation had now proved to lead nowhere, but maybe this time the outcome would be different.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, to the best of my ability.”

The stranger beamed, looking happy enough to nearly jump out of the bench, despite the current subject matter. “Great!”

His cheerful nature was a little infectious, you had to admit, because you already started to feel a little lighter in his presence. A hand appeared in your line of vision.

“My name is Hoseok, by the way. We haven’t been properly introduced yet so that would be the next best step, I think.”

You did giggle this time at his action. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. I’m Y/N.” You took his hand into your own to give it a small but firm shake.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N. Now,” he regarded you with that same soft look he had in his eyes when you first saw him at the station, “what do you say we discuss some logistics over lunch? My treat, of course, since you’re agreeing to help me.”

For the first time in ages, the smile that graced your face was wholeheartedly genuine. “Sounds good.”

Thus, the beginning of a beautiful, long-lasting friendship bloomed that day outside of the one place you’d begun to loathe more than anything else. Over the next few years, Hoseok stood by your side in more ways than you could count, and he was now someone you considered to be one of the best friends you’d ever had.

One of the only best friends you’d ever had.

What you never expected was to be seated with Hoseok at the same diner that started your initial conversation about Ky’s case 5 years later, discussing something much too similar for your liking.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Present Day

You sipped from your coffee mug, enjoying the warm beverage as you waited at the diner. The weather had been less than ideal, with rain pouring all day long and displaying little signs of stopping.

But Hoseok had been adamant about the two of you meeting up after your voicemail you left the previous night.

As you were thinking about your close friend, you heard the bell above the diner door ring, signaling his arrival. He spotted you across the room and quickly rushed over to your table, leaving rain droplets in his wake.

Hoseok shrugged out of his soaked jacket and tossed in into the booth seat beside him as he shook his head to – hopefully – rid himself of the water trying to slide down his face.

“Hey,” he finally breathed out once he was settled. His usual wild red hair was darker now thanks to the rain, stern expression plastered onto his face.

“Hey.” You responded meekly, attempting to give him a weak smile. Your stomach was churning with unease at the conversation you were about to have.

Hoseok took a deep breath before he folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. The coffee you’d ordered for him had been pushed to the side, momentarily forgotten.

He lowered his voice. “Are you sure the pattern of behavior is the same?”

You nodded slowly, going over all the details again in your mind. “I’m positive. The only difference is Yuri waited longer to tell me that she thinks she’s being followed than Ky did.”

Ky. Not a day went by where you didn’t think about her, seeing her smiling face when you would close your eyes at night and try to drift off to sleep.

Slumber came much easier these days than it did those first few months, but every now and then the same nightmare would plague you about the night you saw her on the sidewalk.

You shook your head to shrug the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time.

“Shit,” Hoseok finally responded. “That doesn’t seem like good news for us.”

“My thoughts exactly. Who knows how long this has been going on. And she’s been receiving the same kind of ‘gifts’ Ky would get, too. Random text messages, voicemails from unknown numbers…she tries to brush it off, but I know this scares Yuri.”

“She doesn’t recognize who’s speaking in the voicemails?”

You shook your head solemnly. “No, they’re using some sort of voice modifier.”

Hoseok cursed again, this time under his breath. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You gulped. Truthfully, you didn’t know the answer yourself. On the one hand, everything currently happening to your friend mimicked what happened to Ky, almost exactly. But on the other hand, Yuri made it known time and time again that she thought you were too paranoid for your own good sometimes.

So, you were at a loss.

Yuri and you were close, in a sense. You’d been friends for the last 4 years, working at the same company after graduating from college and even getting transferred to a new one in the same division so as to not be separated. Outside of Hoseok, you considered her your dearest friend.

But at the same time, you knew that Yuri had those she held very dear in her own life that were there before you, and you’d never try to overstep.

Still…the events surrounding Yuri were too specific to be coincidental in your opinion, and if the hunch you had right now was correct, you needed to do something.

You wouldn’t – you couldn’t – let another person die. Not if there was some way for you to prevent it.

Something you didn’t do with Ky, and that would haunt you for the rest of your life-

Hoseok pulled you out of your thoughts by calling your name, frowning deeply once your gaze focused on him again.

“I…I don’t know. I feel like if I push too hard on this, I’ll also push Yuri away, and I don’t want that.” You worried at your bottom lip, your most infamous nervous habit.

“Be that as it may, this doesn’t seem like something you should ignore either. What’s worse: pushing her away but potentially saving her life, or not saying anything and she ends up in danger?”

A heavy sigh wracked through your body.

Your silence was enough for Hoseok to continue with his own line of thinking. “Well, we could consider going to the police-”

“Absolutely not,” you answered fiercely, with more emotion than you’d displayed the entire conversation, “not after how they handled everything with Ky and how they treated you.”

You and Hoseok had made a name for yourself throughout the town as ‘Public Enemies 1 and 2’ with the local police department. You, due to your persistent insistence that they were wrong in their deduction about Ky, and Hoseok because of the article he published that shamed their name.

The article was the first – and last – one that he published under the company that had hired him to be a reporter, seeing as the police department had enough sway to get him fired afterwards. He wasn’t able to find another reporting job anywhere within the town or those surrounding it.

There also weren’t any remaining records of the article anywhere online or in paper publication, but as a ‘fuck you’ to the department, Hoseok had a copy of it printed and hanging up on his wall for anyone and everyone to see. You had always admired how he handled the situation with grace even though it made your blood boil every time you thought about it.

Even so, some good had come from the whole ordeal. After failing to find another reporter job, Hoseok had made a somewhat notable career as a crime novel author, popular among locals because of how he came to be a novelist, and eventually rising to fame due to his own amazing writing skills.

He enjoyed his career and had a happy life, but that didn’t mean you had to forgive and forget the shitty events that happened to get him to that point.

Hoseok nodded in understanding. “Ok, so no police. Does that mean we try to tackle this whole thing by ourselves?”

“Neither of us have any legit experience with this kind of stuff, so that’s out of the question, too.”

Hoseok tapped his chin as he pondered another idea. The way his eyes lit up as it came to him made your lips curve upward.

“What if we go to someone who isn’t involved with the police but does have experience with that?”

“…not sure I’m following you.”

Hoseok huffed in an endearing way. “Have you ever heard of a private detective?”

The word ‘detective’ made you wince, considering your last encounter with one evolved into a screaming match…but it was also how you met Hoseok, so there’s a silver lining for everything.

“I’m not familiar with a private detective, but I’m open to listening to your idea.”

He grinned. “Perfect. Ok, so in my research for my latest novel, I actually ended up looking into some real-life private detectives.”

“And what did you find?” Your own curiosity was definitely piqued now, as it always was when Hoseok would talk about something so passionately.

“There’s one who’s basically world renowned, like he’s really fucking good. And his office isn’t too far from here, it’s basically in the next town over.”

You took another sip from your coffee, swirling the now lukewarm liquid around in your mouth as you contemplated.

“What else do you know about him?”

Hoseok’s shoulders slumped slightly at that. “Not much. The only information I have on him is his name and how you can contact him. From what I’ve read, he seems to be pretty selective with clients.”

“No idea what he looks like?”

Hoseok shook his head. “None. There weren’t pictures or anything like that, I’m not even sure how old he is.”

You hummed as you pictured this mystery man in your head, automatically defaulting to envisioning an older man, maybe in his 50s with already graying hair. A wise old soul who had seen so much in his long years of investigation work.

“Not like all that really matters, I guess. Do you think I should reach out to him?”

Hoseok nodded around his coffee cup before he tilted his head back to take a large sip. “That’s our best shot right now. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you tried.”

Such a simple statement but it made your stomach twist at the memory of Ky and how you weren’t able to save her because you didn’t know how. “Right.”

Hoseok pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through what looked like Google search results. When he found what he was looking for, he texted you the information.

“Kim Taehyung?” You said the name aloud, making sure you got the correct info.

“Yup, that’s him. If you do decide to contact him, let me know how it goes, ok? I’m already worried as is about you delving into something like this again.”

You patted his hand. “I know, Hobi. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and I’ll keep you updated as much as possible.”

He smiled brighter than the sunshine. “That’s all I can ask for, bub.”

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You paced around your apartment, staring at the text that Hoseok had sent you earlier. The rest of your time with him at the diner had been calm and helped to quell your nerves, but now that you were alone again, you were riddled with anxiety.

You had typed in this Kim Taehyung’s number into your phone, ready to call him and just get it over with. The worst he could do is decline your ask for help, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried.

After a few more minutes of useless pacing, you finally hit ‘send’ and raised the receiver to your ear.

You were met with an answering machine almost immediately, wondering if maybe you typed it in wrong until you heard ‘you have reached the number for Kim Taehyung.’ The name had been uttered by a human voice, one that was deep and took you off guard.

You had barely enough time to ponder over the voice before you heard the tell-tale ‘beep’ signaling for you to start your message.

“Oh! Um, hello, Mr. Kim. This is Y/N- well my name is Y/N. I was referred to you by a friend of mine who said you may can help me with a situation I’m having. There’s…some suspicious behavior involving someone dear to me and I’m afraid they could be in danger, but I’m not sure who to turn to. I-If you’d like to give me a call back, you can reach me at this number…”

You finished your voicemail with your contact information before thanking him and wishing him a goodnight. Once you pulled away your phone, you checked the time.

10:36 PM. No wonder you got his answering machine.

The anxiety that had settled down while you were leaving your message started to come back, so to combat that you made the decision to go ahead and get ready for bed. There wasn’t anything else you could do right now, anyway.

You texted Yuri just to wish her a goodnight, and when you received a response almost immediately, you breathed out a sigh of relief. At least she was alright and that was one less thing to worry about for now.

You didn’t dream that night – which was a blessing in its own right – as you thought about the deep timbre of the voice from the answering machine. You’d only heard it briefly, but it left enough of an impact, that was for sure.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You awoke around 8 AM, your typical time no matter what day it was. It was the weekend, so you could get more sleep if you wanted, but a quick check of your phone had you sitting upright at a record speed.

[Unknown] 6:28 AM: I got your voicemail. If you want to discuss your case, meet me at this address.

Your heart thumped faster as you re-read the words over again. The following message had an address attached, and when you opened it, you noticed how it was for the neighboring town.

With all of the context clues, and taking into account everything Hoseok told you yesterday, you figured that it was Mr. Kim who had texted you. Obviously it would be from an unknown number, and he wouldn’t give out any explicit personal details to lead back to him; that’s just how he did things, as Hobi had mentioned.

And if he contacted you back, that meant he was interested in helping you!

Well…he was interested in hearing you out, at least. Still, you wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity. You quickly crafted a response before you started to make yourself presentable.

[y/n] 8:03 AM: Thank you! When should I meet you?

You had just finished brushing your teeth when you heard your phone chime again.

[Unknown] 8:06 AM: Whenever is best for you. I’ll be here all day and don’t have any other clients lined up.

You clutched your phone to your chest. This was really happening.

Once you were done getting ready to head out, it was just past 9 AM. You called Hobi to let him know what you were doing, and his excitement was tangible even through the phone. He urged you to keep him posted about all the details, which you assured him that of course you would.

The drive to the address you’d been given didn’t take too long, maybe around 20 minutes or so. What surprised you when you arrived, though, was the outward appearance of the building.

It looked abandoned, for lack of a better term, and you checked the text message 3 more times to make sure this is where you were supposed to be.

[y/n] 9:28 AM: I’m here…but I’m not sure if this is the correct place?

There was an eerie feeling settling in your stomach as you waited for a response. Maybe this had been some sort of trick? Had someone set you up?

The sound of a deadbolt clicking grabbed your attention, and the door a few feet in front of you opened up to display an older woman. At first, she seemed a bit disgruntled at having an unexpected guest, but before you could apologize for intruding, her gruff expression was replaced with a warm smile.

“I take it you’re Y/N?”

You gulped and nodded, placing your phone back into your jacket pocket.

“Follow me.”

She turned on her heel to walk back into the building, not bothering to wait and see if you would obey. You quickly scurried after her, only stopping once you were a foot or so behind.

You walked through about 3 or 4 different hallways, trying to remember the directions you’d taken but failing miserably. There wasn’t much to this building…you saw what appeared to be a few offices here and there but otherwise, not much else.

“Here we are,” the woman croaked, gesturing with her arm to a much nicer looking door that had gold lettering on the window.

The etchings were bold, and it was very evident where you were as you read the words:

KIM TAEHYUNG

Private Detective

The older woman rapped on the door 3 times with her knuckles before she walked off. You were standing there, dumbfounded, until you heard a voice softly telling you to come inside.

The doorknob clicked easily under your hand, and as you entered the room, you were in awe of how different everything looked.

The office was tidy and, dare you say, extravagant compared to what surrounded it outside of this room. There were two brown leather couches that had a decent sized coffee table seated in between them; further into the office, you saw the same type of leather chairs, one in front of and one behind a large wooden desk. You also spotted a few plants that looked to be well taken care of, one sitting in a windowsill and the other on a small table next to some black filing cabinets.

Whoever had designed this room clearly had a knack for matching furniture together, because it all meshed well and you appreciated the sleek look to everything.

Your eyes ended their scan as you looked over to the far wall, almost letting out a gasp when you noticed the figure across the room whose back was turned to you.

When you softly shut the door, the other person in the room turned around. It took you a second to start thinking properly again, because he was not at all how you pictured he would be.

For starters, he looked much younger than you thought originally, closer to your own age, which you thought was admirable considering his high status as a detective. He had brown hair parted down the middle that was slightly wavy, with bangs covering his forehead. He had very handsome facial features as well, some of the most handsome you’d ever seen, if you were being honest with yourself.

He was wearing dark jeans and a shirt with black and white print that was hidden underneath a black leather jacket. Everything about this man seemed to scream fashionable and it was throwing you for a loop. You weren’t trying to stereotype him based on your own experience with detectives in the past, but he was just…so not what you expected him to be.

You were wondering again if this might be a prank, until he finally spoke up and acknowledged your presence.

“Y/N, is it?”

You nodded dumbly, scrambling to walk across the office as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He sat down in his own once you were close enough, and you shrugged out of your jacket before following suit.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, you felt small under his scrutinizing gaze. He was leaning on one elbow, chin resting in his palm as he stared at you with intensity.

He spoke suddenly, almost making you flinch with surprise.

“So, you mentioned a friend of yours might be in danger?”

You nodded, not sure what to say or if you should say anything.

“Does this friend know you’ve come to a private detective about their situation?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Well…no.”

The man nodded, more to himself than you, it looked like. “Alright. That’s not an issue, just have to cover all the basics first.”

“What do the basics entail?”

He seemed amused by your interest as you took the initiative to ask questions now.

His fingertips drummed along the desk, a rhythmic sound that you found to be oddly soothing.

“It entails me finding out as much about your case as I’m willing to before I decide whether or not it’s something I can assist you with.”

He started twirling a pen with his unoccupied fingers, clearly waiting for you to speak first again before he continued.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you feel is pertinent to tell me.”

You sighed. “Well, to start with, I think my friend is being followed by someone-”

“Proof?”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you have proof? Does this friend have pictures or a video of them being followed, or is it just a feeling?”

“To my knowledge…no. It’s more that they sense it than have actually seen it.”

“And you want me to find out if this is happening or not?”

“Um…yes?”

It was his turn to sigh this time. “You don’t sound very confident in your answer, Y/N.”

His tone rubbed you the wrong way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he broke off to look away from the pen to your face again, “is that I need to know what it is you want from me before I can agree to help you.”

You were catching onto his game now. He wanted you to very specifically lay it all out for him, instead of leaving him to figure it out by grasping at straws.

“Well, Mr. Kim-”

“Taehyung.”

“Sorry?”

“Taehyung. You can call me that, if you want. I’m not super big on formalities for myself.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Why was his presence so overwhelming?

“With all due respect, Mr. Kim, I’ve never done this before. All I know is something isn’t right, and I don’t trust the police to offer assistance in the way I need.”

You swore you saw something flash in his eyes.

“Why don’t you trust the police?”

You crossed your arms and leaned more into the chair. “The last time I worked with them, it didn’t end well.”

“You’ve worked on the force?” He almost sounded impressed.

“No, sorry, poor choice of wording. I tried to help them with a case before.”

“Ah,” his eyes narrowed as he busied himself with the pen again. “Were you a suspect, or?”

“I was close to the victim,” you said softly, almost a whisper.

For a moment, his expression softened. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged, inhaling a shaky breath as you looked at your lap. “It’s fine. Just…there’s your answer. I don’t want to work with them again, so I came to you.”

“If I’m able to take your case, I’ll make sure you don’t regret that decision.”

His tone had you picking your eyes back up. You noticed a fire within his own, one that made you feel like he meant every single word he’d just said to you.

“Thank you.”

He carded a hand through his hair, the action drawing your attention to the silver watch that adorned his wrist.

“Can I ask…could you tell me about the case you were involved with?”

A slow nod from you. “If it’ll help, I can do that.”

He motioned for you to continue. As you started telling him the details, you noticed as his eyes widened. At one point, he politely interrupted you.

“Sorry, just – I remember that case. You were involved with that?”

“Yes.” You were twisting your hands together in your lap. “Ky was my best friend.”

“And the police just let the case go cold, without considering all traces of evidence?”

“I begged them not to, but there wasn’t much I could do. They made that known several times,” you trailed off. You thought you heard some semblance of a growl coming from the detective.

“I always knew something was weird about that…every report they published made no sense, and none of the pieces of evidence seemed to corroborate their theories.” His hushed tone suggested he may have been talking more to himself, but you didn’t question it.

“There were signs of suspicious behavior leading up to her death that they never considered, and any time I tried to bring it up, I was shut down immediately.”

“Are these ‘signs’ something you’re noticing now, with your other friend?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Taehyung hummed. “I see. You want to inspect this before it gets out of hand, so you came to me because the police are a lost cause.”

You nodded feebly, voice softer than ever when you spoke again. “I don’t want to see another person die.”

“You won’t.”

His answer startled you, even if it was as quiet as your own. Your eyes met briefly before he started looking anywhere but your face.

Another hush befell the room, and this one seemed more awkward than the last, considering Taehyung cleared his throat before he rifled through one of his desk drawers.

“Before you tell me anything else, I need you to look over something first.”

“Sure, whatever I need to do, I’ll do it.”

A crooked smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips. “You know, you’re a lot more obedient than most of my other clients.”

You…weren’t sure how to take that.

“I am?”

“Yeah. Most of the time they come in with demands and don’t like to listen when I push back on something. It’s part of the reason why I’ve gotten choosier about who I decide to do business with these last few years. But you,” he fished out a piece of paper from the drawer, “are proving much easier to work with. I appreciate that.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He chuckled, the sound low. “You’re also way more polite than most people I encounter.”

You smiled at him for the first time. “I’m grateful you’re taking the time to hear me out.”

His eyes lingered on yours for just a second before shifting down.

“First and foremost,” Taehyung slid a piece of paper across the wooden desk that separated the two of you, “if we agree to do business, you’ll need to sign this contract. It lists my stipulations and services I can provide.”

You picked up the paper, not quite sure what to expect.

“Take your time to read over all of it carefully, just so everything is clear on both our ends.” He leaned back in his chair, the sound of squeaking leather breaking your concentration for a moment.

You scanned through every line, all of the contract terms seeming straight-forward and easy to agree to-

-but the last line caught your attention.

“Could you explain this last part, please?”

Taehyung leaned over to look at which line you were pointing to before he let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, that. My #1 most important rule. Never get involved with clients’ personal lives.”

“But don’t you have to sometimes?”

“For work, yes. But this is more referring to what happens outside of that. Things can get…messy.”

“You talk like that’s happened before.”

Taehyung smirked but offered nothing more to that specific conversation.

“So, are we in business?”

You didn’t have to ponder long before you signed the contract with a flourish. When you passed it back across the desk, Taehyung smiled.

“Perfect,” he stood up to shake your hand, “I’ll be in touch with you shortly, once I’ve reviewed your case.”

You returned the shake. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting it go.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

You waited to see if there was anything else he might need from you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He leaned down and sifted through his drawer once more, this time pulling out a Manila file folder.

“I use these to get the typical information needed for me to start my research. It just asks for client’s name and contact info, as well as a summary about what you’re wanting from me and other names of those involved. In this instance, it would be your friend. You can give me as little or as much info as you think I need.”

He handed the folder to you, and upon opening it up, you saw everything he had just mentioned to you on a sheet of paper stapled to the inside.

“I’d prefer you fill it out now so you can leave it with me, but of course I can’t force you to do anything.”

His tone suggested he was teasing, but you were quick to sit on one of the couches and begin filling out the paper. It didn’t take you very long, and when you were done, you noticed he was sitting on the opposite couch, elbows resting on his knees with his hands folded.

“Finished?”

You nodded as you slid the file across the coffee table, his pen placed on top. He accepted both and smiled at you.

“Alright, if that’s all you want to discuss, you’re free to go. As I mentioned before, I’ll be in touch with you after I’ve looked over everything and have some sort of plan on how to proceed. And of course, all of this information is strictly classified. You read that in the contract, but I always reiterate it anyway, due to some problems I’ve had in the past.”

“Of course.” You agreed with no hesitation. Honestly, you couldn’t fathom just how much he’s had to endure in his line of work, how many times he’s probably had to change locations and phone numbers.

Hell, Kim Taehyung may not even be his real name, and you’d never know.

“Any questions for me?”

You mumbled some form of ‘no’ as you shook your head. Taehyung walked over to the door to open it for you, and you certainly weren’t expecting the same woman from before to be out in the hallway, but there she was.

“Ms. Choi will show you out since this place is a bit of a maze,” his tone was light, a sheer contrast to the mood that had settled over the two of you from when you stepped into his office. “Don’t forget: I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.” You couldn’t help the authoritative term as it slipped past your lips, and you walked through the door before you could see the look on his face. You thought you might have heard some sort of laugh from Ms. Choi as she escorted you back to the front, but your imagination liked to play tricks on you sometimes.

Besides, Taehyung said he wasn’t one for formalities, so it didn’t really matter that much, did it? He had to be older than you anyway…right?

You spent the entire walk through the building trying to justify in your head what had just happened, and Ms. Choi gave you a soft smile as she held the door open for you to leave.

When you settled back in your car, you gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath, leaning your head back as you shut your eyes.

You still couldn’t quite believe that the last 30 minutes or so had happened. Taehyung had proven to be quite different than what you anticipated, but he was truthfully better than you could have hoped.

He seemed driven and motivated about his line of work, and the way he reassured you when you had your doubts-

-it made you feel…safe. Like this was a step in the right direction after all.

As you called Hobi to fill him in on everything during your drive home, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

➥Part 2

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

[fandom-oracle]

Wait wdym? Do you think fic is bad?

i'm getting canceled tonight i guess.

if you actually did a good a faith interpretation of my post you know it's not really ABOUT fanfiction at all, i actually write fanfiction myself. i'm not sharing here because it's overwhelmingly bad fic that i write exclusively as wish-fulfilment or for self-projection, but at least i'm self-aware about it. i am ALSO one of the people who reads ze Books™️, although most of the academic material i consume are nonfiction, so this whole thing is particularly annoying to me. the crux of the matter is that, if you're a little younger you might've missed it, but this website was a hotbed of scalding takes like 'dante's divine comedy is literally fanfiction', 'something something is literally fanfiction' when the thing in question barely counts as a transformative work and, in fact, it weakens the definition of transformative work in itself to try to apply it to literally anything that exhibits an ounce of intertextuality. plenty of takes that are... true, but require some nuance, focused on the idea of transformative fandom as a place defined by its presence of overwhelmingly female and disproportionately queer (occasionally, though disputedly, nonwhite) content creators and the ways in which transformative fan content could be interpreted as a space of defiance to cisheteropatriarchy in the way it permeates traditional media. a third, less common but still relevant take was the focus on how certain fandoms such as trek and doctor who have a long history of involvement in real-world civil rights issues and progressive politics. so this kind of take has been the dominant view on tumblr and transformative fandom for a good decade now, perhaps longer, and the people with this kind of takes can sometimes be a little... obnoxious. and the majority of people on transformative fandom (regardless of wether or not the fandom is disproportionately composed of nonwhite individuals or not, by sheer virtue of american demographics and this site`s heaily skewed userbase, the majority will still be white) are white, and like any other space dominated by white people, fandom has often been a vehicle for white supremacy. "Stitch Media Mix" talks about this in-depth. the discourse on fandom racism and ways in which transformative fandom as a whole contribute to racialized stereotypes, hierarchies, and deeper problems within online culture has led to a lot of people with grievances with fandom, many of whom are women of color, to develop an entire online identity built around the concept of being "critical of fandom", which is a very weird thing to do with fandom is literally billions of people, not a unified demographic, and that being critical of something can mean a WIDE amount of things; which in turn has led to a lot of people insulating themselves completely from any criticism of fandom as being inherently in bad faith, which a weird thing to do when literally ANY sphere of society should be open to criticism. people taking critiques of media they consume and taking critiques of their own critiques as personal attacks are abound here and make everything worse. so a fairly recent (mid2018ish, definitely post the insanity of reylo discourse but before sarah z blew up in popularity) trend has been that people in these communities isolate more and more and the general discourse has effetively resulted in people with differing takes in fanfiction specifically but fandom as a Whole (which is, again very weird to say because fandom is not 'a Whole' because there's no unifying element to different fandoms) only interacting with each other in hostile ways. and increasingly, in my personal sphere, a lot of people are positioning themselves in the "fandom critical" (AGAIN, WEIRD THING TO SAY, WHAT DOES IT EVEN MEAN, PLEASE USE WORDS WITH PRECISION) sphere, and I tend to take that "side" myself, but i specifically do not think framing this as a team A or team B thing is useful. this culture war was in the buildup.

last week a post by a user i follow recently became popular. the post itself was a critique that i.. do not necessarily agree with. it was ultimately about the idea of easily-consumable popular media being seen as an acceptable form of exclusive media engagement by people in the "pro-fandom" sphere, and how the insidiousness of this line of thinking has to do with how capitalist media production is designed to spread, and how fandom AS A TREND, not specifically any individuals or any fanworks, can empower capitalism. the post specifically did NOT use the kindest possible words, but that was what they were trying to say. howelljenkins also has really good takes on the subject, albeit from a different angle.

anyway because this is a circular culture war, the result was as follows: 1) a bunch of pro-fandom types refuse to actually make a charitable reading of the post and insist the user in question hates fandom and thinks people under capitalism shouldn't have things that are Fun, and should Only Read Theory and keep sending anon hate to several blogs in the opposing sphere, therefore proving the point that fandom sometimes prevent people from being able to engage critically with things; 2) a bunch of anti-fandom types who defined their entire identity on hating fandom being like "haha look at these cringe people" instead of trying to understand why a demographic overwhelmingly composed of marginalized people would feel strongly to posts that use inflammatory language against an interest of theirs, thereby proving the point that most criticism of fandom is divorced from actual fan content and is vaguely defined. the reason this is a culture war that actually deserves attention (unlike most fandom culture wars, which are just really granular ship wars made into social justice issues for clout) is that, for the most part, both of these groups are mostly people with college degrees, many of whom will contirbute to academia in the coming years. fan studies is a relevant field. these discussions have repercussions in wider media criticism trends, and this is why i can't really stand it or just passively ignoring it the way i do with most other inconsequential discourse. like it's genuinely upsetting seeing almost every single tumblr user, most of whom should know better, patting themselves in the back for their inability to read things in a way that doesn't feed into preexisting cultural hostilities in fan spaces.

[haidyn-reeves]

Lie to Me

Summary: The classic truth spell trope with a wicked twist.

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4948 

Warnings: Dean’s an asshole. Angst makes the world go ‘round. Insecurities briefly mentioned. Did I mention Dean’s an asshole? Fluff if you squint.

A/N: I’m back! This is my entry for @jawritter‘s Make Me Cry challenge and @deanwanddamons 2k Celebration! My prompts are in bold. I hope y’all enjoy!

It was no secret that Dean had changed since he took the Mark of Cain. He was more reckless than normal, which only progressed after taking out the entire Stine family for what they did to Charlie and almost did to Y/N. Y/N was in the bunker when the Stines invaded, resorting to hiding in one of the trunks of the classic cars in the garage to stay safe. Once Dean left Castiel bloody and battered in the library, he raced to the garage, having told Y/N not to move until he came for her. When he found her, his features only softened once he saw how terrified she was of him; the amount of blood covering his clothes and hands was enough to turn her stomach. Y/N, as usual, did her best to clean up the older Winchester, using it as a way to distract her from what happened only hours prior. When it was time to say goodbye to Charlie, Y/N separated herself from the brothers, the tension between them so thick you needed a chainsaw to cut through. Dean tossed some heated remarks to Sam and Y/N sank to the muddy ground, furious that this was happening in front of the pyre that held their dear friend. Dean stormed off and Sam came around to help her up, the pair watching the bow-legged hunter climb into his Impala and drive away.

Dean was angry, and the only way he knew how to release that anger was to hunt and kill whatever he could. He scoured the news, desperate to find something he could take down, preferably alone. He couldn’t look at Sam, blaming his brother for the death of his surrogate sister. He didn’t want to bring Y/N with him, he just wanted to drive, hunt, and kill.

Dean found a case, one that would hopefully settle the Mark’s need for blood and his own anger. The fact that it was a witch was an added bonus.

He left in the middle of the night when Sam and Y/N couldn’t try to stop him or tag along. He felt a little bad leaving Y/N behind but the Mark stung too badly for him to care at the moment. He wouldn’t be gone long, the case was only two states over, he’d back soon enough. 

In the bunker, Y/N was pissed that Dean was ignoring her calls. Sam expected it, he knew how angry Dean was, so he expected for his brother to ignore him, but Y/N? He adored her, for Dean to ignore her was unlike him. Y/N was confused, she wasn’t part of the plot to save Dean, Sam explicitly kept her out of the loop because he knew asking her to sneak behind Dean’s back was out of the question. She was loyal to the older Winchester, to a fault, and asking her to go against his wishes was more than even Sam could muster. 

Ever since the Stines invaded and killed Charlie, Y/N was thinking about her feelings for Dean. She called him immediately when they broke the door down and he’s the one who instructed her to hide in the garage; it was a plan the two agreed on for these situations. While she was hiding in the trunk of one of the vintage vehicles, all she could think about was that she could die and never be able to tell Dean how she felt. She decided then that she’d tell him, and soon. That’s why she was so upset that he left without telling her, it just prolonged her getting everything out in the open.

While the two waited in the bunker for Dean’s return, Dean handled the witch with ease. She tried at the last minute to hit him with what he assumed was a spell of sorts, but the witch killing bullet was in her before she could finish the incantation. He felt better, the Mark’s hunger was satiated, and there was one less witch causing trouble. A win all around, in his book.

Y/N was sitting in the library researching when the bunker door opened three days later. She was trying to keep the hurt and the anger at bay, still upset that Dean was ignoring her for reasons she couldn’t figure out while she was ready to tell him how she felt. Sam was out grabbing dinner, she assumed it was him.

“That was fast,” she remarked, getting up to help him unpack, until she was face to face with Dean. “Oh, not Sam. Welcome home.” She moved to greet him with a hug, only for him to step back out of her reach. Her face fell, Dean never rejected her touch, even with the Mark. “Dean?”

“Don’t touch me,” he growled, “I hate it when you throw yourself at me like that.”

“You…what? Since when?”

“Since forever. Just shows how clingy you are.”

Y/N stared in shock before letting her eyes cast to the floor, the heat in her cheeks so warm coupled with his venomous glare that she was growing physically uncomfortable before him. “I’m s-sorry. I didn’t realize…I thought we…I thought you and I…“

“What? You thought there was something here?” Dean motioned between the two of them. “Far from it.” He looked her over, his eyes running over her figure. “You think I’d ever want you?”

“I…I thought m-maybe…”

“Well I don’t. I don’t even want you here.”

“That’s not true,” she whispered, knowing if she was really that unwelcome, he’d have no problem kicking her out.

“True? You want the truth? Oh, sweetheart, you can’t handle the truth. But I’ll give it to you. Don’t you think if I wanted you, I’d have done something by now? You’re just another burden that was dumped on me that I didn’t ask for.” He paused, circling the war table, Y/N visibly shaking before him as she tried to keep herself composed, though it was obvious she was already broken at his words. “You’re always in the way, you know? You’re one more person I have to protect on hunts, since you’re not exactly reliable these days. Maybe if you were in shape you’d be less of a liability, then I wouldn’t have to constantly be saving your sorry ass-“

“Dean!” Sam barked, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Y/N hadn’t even heard him come in, the blood was pounding in her ears as she fought back tears, refusing to cry in front of Dean for fear he’d throw that in her face, too. He already implied she was fat, using her biggest insecurity against her, she didn’t need him throwing another one her way.

“What? I’m just saying,” Dean shrugged.

“You don’t just say that,” Sam glared before shooting a knowing look to Y/N, nodding his head towards the kitchen. She took the hint and all but ran out of the room. “What the hell could she have said to make you say that to her? She didn’t do anything to you.”

“She’s just annoying, another mouth to feed, a cockblock at the bar. We don’t need her here bringing us down. I wish she’d just leave.”

“Do you even hear yourself? That’s Y/N. She’s done more for us than anyone else has. She takes care of us when we’re sick and hurt, she puts up with our shit, specifically all of your shit and you…what the fuck Dean?”

Dean rolled his eyes, picking up his bags and turning to leave the room. Sam watched in disbelief before joining Y/N in the kitchen finding her with her head in her hands at the table. “Hey, hey, shhhh,” he whispered, sitting down next to her and pulling her into his arms. She sobbed harshly into his flannel. 

“He h-hates me,” she cried, the words muffled against his shirt. Sam shook his head, furious with his brother.

“He doesn’t, he couldn’t.” He rubbed her back soothingly, gently rocking her from side to side. “That wasn’t my brother.”

“I…I d-don’t understand,” she whimpered, sniffling.

“What exactly happened? Can you tell me?”

Y/N sat up slightly, wiping the tears off her cheeks and taking a deep breath to steady herself. “I thought he was you, I said hello, went to hug him. He backed up and when I tried to see what was wrong, he just started in on me.” She looked down. “I was finally ready to tell him, Sam.”

His eyes widened, knowing exactly what she meant. “Oh fuck no,” he muttered, pulling her back into his embrace. “Something must’ve happened while he was gone…but even then he had no right to talk to you like that. For everything that he’s been through, even with the Mark, he’d never, ever, talk to you like that. If it was anyone else, they’d be dead. If he could’ve heard himself…“ Sam stopped, shaking his head in anger. “Something’s not right.”

“Am…am I clingy, Sam?” Y/N asked quietly, Dean’s words echoing in her head.

“God, no, Y/N. You’re not. A few hugs and cuddles here and there doesn’t make you clingy.” Sam smiled sadly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You are one of the best things to happen to Dean and me. You look after us, keep this place running, you help with hunts and research. You’re incredibly important to us and you’re a part of this little family, regardless of what my brother said. I love you, he loves you…hell, the real him adores you. You’re the little sister I always wanted, I always want you around. You’re not a cockblock or another mouth to feed and you certainly don’t bring us down. You build us up and help us keep going, every day. And before you say anything, no, there is nothing physically wrong with you, so please don’t get back into that headspace. You’re doing so well, don’t let this bring you back into that dark place. I’ll talk to him.”

Y/N smiled weakly, eyes brimming over with tears at Sam’s reassurance. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled, placing a soft kiss to her forehead. “How about you go take a bath and relax a bit while I try to figure out what’s going on, okay?”

She nodded and he squeezed her in another hug before letting her go, watching her leave the kitchen and make her way towards her room, which was unfortunately next to Dean’s. Y/N tiptoed passed his room, terrified of doing anything to set him off on her again. Once in the safety of her bedroom, she gathered her comfiest pajamas, slippers, and her favorite bath soap to bring to the bathroom. She set those items aside, rummaging for her duffle. She didn’t like being so close to Dean after what happened, so she decided to throw her necessities and some clothes into the bag, topping it with her favorite pillow and blanket. She knew the bedroom next to Sam’s was empty, for now she’d make that her room until she felt comfortable being around the older hunter again.

On the way to the bathroom, Y/N dropped her bag, blanket and pillow into the spare room, closing the door behind her before heading into the private, smaller bathroom in the bunker. She turned the water on in the tub, adjusting the temperature before plugging the drain and adding her bath soap before shedding her clothes and sinking into the water below the bubbles.

Down the hall and a few twists and turns away, Sam was making his way to Dean’s room, having already sent a quick prayer to Castiel in hopes he could help him figure out what was wrong with his brother. 

“Sam,” Castiel greeted with a flutter of his wings, “what’s going on?”

Sam sighed heavily. “Something’s wrong with Dean, I don’t know what but the way he just lashed out at Y/N tells me it’s bad.” They stopped outside Dean’s door, Sam knocking hard three times before opening the door, not bothering to wait for an invitation.

“Get out,” Dean growled, ripping his headphones off his ears. 

“Not until you tell me what happened when you were gone to make you come back a grade A douchebag,” Sam shot back.

“Nothing happened, now get out.”

“Dean, you’re not yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Dean glared, his eyes on Castiel. 

“The Dean I know never would’ve said what he did to Y/N, so that’s bullshit,” Sam argued.

“She had it coming,” he shrugged. Sam’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared with anger. “Oh, calm down.”

“You know what Dean? Maybe you should leave for a while,” Sam started, advancing towards Dean, “sort your shit out.”

Dean rose from his bed, glowering at his little brother. “You’re really gonna kick me out? For her?”

Before Sam could respond, Castiel took the opportunity to move around Sam, placing his fingers to Dean’s forehead to see if he could use his grace to identify the problem. “He’s under a spell.”

“A spell? What kind of spell?” Sam asked, looking between the angel and the thoroughly pissed off hunter.

“I’m not sure, but it’s there, clinging to him.” Castiel pressed his fingers to Dean’s forehead again to try and ease him a bit to get him to cooperate better. Dean sat back down on his bed, a little more relaxed.

“Dean, you have to tell me what happened when you were gone,” Sam pleaded.

“I was on a hunt, it was a witch.”

“Do you remember anything that she said?”

“She was chanting something but I killed her before she could finish.”

“Or maybe you didn’t,” Sam sighed. “I’ll call Rowena, see if she can maybe give use insight as to what kind of spell the witch used.” He pulled out his phone before looking at his brother again. “You stay the hell away from Y/N, got it? You’ve done enough damage.”

“I’ll watch him,” Castiel offered, Sam nodding in agreement before shooting his brother one last look and heading to the library, dialing Rowena’s number.

“Samuel,” she answered.

“Rowena, I need your help.”

“You seem to be needing a lot of that lately, Samuel. And yet you’ve done nothing for me in return.”

“I’m working on it,” he responded curtly, “the quicker you get to the bunker, the faster I finish the deal. It’s about Y/N.”

The witch sighed, having developed a soft spot for the girl. “Fine, fine. I’ll be there soon.”

After her bath, Sam informed Y/N that Rowena was coming and that there was some sort of spell involved. Y/N cringed at his brother’s name, her body tensing. Sam explained that he knew the spell wasn’t an excuse for what Dean said to her, but it helped piece a few things together. Y/N just wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look at the hunter the same way again.

Until Rowena arrived, Y/N stayed in her new bedroom, locked away from everyone but Sam. He brought her meals, knowing she wasn’t up to wandering the bunker halls and risking the chance of running into Dean. As strong as he knew she was, even he didn’t think she’d be able to handle another run-in with the older hunter. 

Two days later, Rowena made her way down the steps of the bunker. Sam did his best to fill her in on what little information he got from Dean, which was a terrible pronunciation of whatever the young witch chanted at him, plus the crap attitude he’d been exhibiting ever since, including what he said to Y/N.

“But here’s the thing, I know my brother and I know how he feels about her, and it’s…it’s like everything he said to her is the exact opposite of what he’s ever said to me about her. He’s said some pretty fucked up things in his life, even to me, but to her? He’d never. It doesn’t make sense, he said the witch didn’t even finish the spell.”

“Perhaps your brother changed his mind.”

“Rowena, no. Cas was able to detect the remnants of a spell that seems to be stuck to him. That’s why I need your help, I don’t know what spell it could be.”

“Your brother, he possesses the Mark of Cain, correct?” Sam nodded. “Then whatever spell she cast…the Mark in a way protects the person who bears it. The person can’t die, as you know. In this case, it sounds like the Mark warped the spell that was thrown at Dean and it’s now sticking to him instead of wearing off like it normally would after a few days.”

“But what kind of spell? A truth spell wouldn’t make him say all that…”

“No, but the Mark could twist a truth spell into making him lie, instead. Do you know anything about the witch?”

“She was casting truth spells and tearing couples apart around town,” Dean answered, making his presence known as he entered the war room. “She was angry that her husband had an affair and she took it out on everyone else.”

Sam groaned. “So that’s it. It was a truth spell but the Mark made you lie instead of actually tell the truth.”

Rowena rolled her eyes, “and turned you into quite the dick.” Dean shot a glare at the red-head, ready to bark a nasty reply when Sam stepped between the two.

“You don’t speak unless we ask you to,” he ordered, staring down his brother. Dean’s eyes widened before he cocked a brow, smirking.

“You don’t think there’s more I could say to you this time?”

“I don’t care what you say to me, I know it isn’t you. But Y/N? She’s off limits.”

“Too late for that-“

“ENOUGH,” Rowena yelled, both hunters jumping in surprise, “now, Samuel, you can fetch me these ingredients and Dean, well, you can sit down and keep your mouth shut.”

As Sam went to the storage room to gather the ingredients needed for the spell to reverse the one stuck to Dean, Rowena followed him to Y/N’s makeshift room, knocking on the door. 

“Go away,” Y/N answered pitifully.

“Someone’s here to see you, honey,” Sam answered, “its safe, I promise.” He unlocked her door and left her and Rowena alone while he went to find her supplies. Y/N sat up on her bed, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the witch.

“Hi,” she smiled weakly, moving over on her bed to make room for the witch.

“Oh darlin’, Auntie Rowena will fix it,” she soothed, sitting at the foot of the bed. “You see, Dean was hit with a truth spell, but because he bears the Mark, the spell backfired and made him lie instead. Sam’s fetching me the ingredients I need for a reversal to get rid of the spell that’s clinging to him because of the Mark.”

“So…all the things he said…”

“I’m guessing whatever he wanted to say, he said the opposite. Apparently the witch was cheated on by her husband and due to her anger she took it out on everyone, especially men, and cursed them to tell the truth. But in Dean’s case, he was cursed to lie.”

“And be a douche,” Y/N muttered. “He said some awful things, Ro.”

“The man’s not exactly kind on a good day if you’re on his bad side,” Rowena noted. “I’ll fix him. He’s going to remember everything and run in here and apologize, you’ll see.”

“I’m not sure I can look at him, I mean, he was so cold…so brutal. If I look at him that’s all I’ll see.”

“I think once he realizes what he said and how badly he hurt you, you’ll see a side of him you’ve never seen before. Dean’s very protective of you, we all know it, so once he realizes he’s the one who hurt you, he’s gonna be devastated. You just have to remember, it wasn’t him.”

Y/N nodded, though still apprehensive. Rowena smiled warmly, patting her legs before leaving the room to see if Sam found everything. Y/N curled back up under the covers, thinking about what Rowena said. Knowing that a spell made him say those things made her feel the smallest bit better, but it was still replaying in her head since it happened. She could still see Dean’s look of disgust and hear the hatred dripping off his tongue. The idea of facing him, even after he was cured of this spell, still terrified her.

In the library, Dean was sitting at one of the tables nursing his whiskey while Rowena and Sam worked on the spell. Cas was on standby, ready to intervene if Dean got out of hand somehow and also to see if the lingering spell faded. 

Minutes later, Rowena was chanting the incantation for the reversal, Sam and Cas on either side of Dean as a precaution. A beat passed before Dean’s stoic expression faded and his eyes glowed green. Rowena sighed with relief and Cas pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead, nodding. The spell worked, Dean was back to normal.

And oh, what a crash it was.

Dean blinked a few times, looking around at their worried faces as he registered what had happened. When he realized who was missing in the room, his eyes widened as it all came flooding back like a movie scene in his head. 

“Where is she?” He choked, a wave of panic washing over him as he realized the magnitude of what he said to her.

“You remember?” Dean looked at Sam, shame and regret on his face.

“Everything.”

“She’s in the room next to mine, just go easy on her, Dean. You really did a number on her.” Dean nodded, hastily leaving the library and racing down the bunker halls until he got to the room Y/N was in. He took a deep breath before knocking softly.

“Come in,” she called, voice quiet. Dean turned the knob slowly, opening the door to find her curled up on the bed. The blatant fear on her face didn’t go unnoticed by Dean, the grimace leaving a sharp pain in his chest.

“Sweetheart,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “we need to talk.”

“I think you’ve said enough,” she answered, less bite in her reply than she would have liked.

“That…that wasn’t me, you know I’d never-“

“I thought I did, Dean. But that…even with a spell…,” She looked away from him, shaking her head. Dean’s face fell, eyes filling with tears. He really fucked up and it wasn’t even his fault this time.

“Y/N, I swear on Sam’s life, I didn’t mean a single word that I said to you that night. That wasn’t me talking, that was the spell. It’s like everything I wanted to say to you came out the complete opposite, the Mark completely took over and I’m so fucking sorry.” Dean paused, slowly making his way to her bed. When she didn’t object, he sat down by her feet.

“Sweetheart, I need you to look at me,” he begged. Y/N looked up from the spot she was fixated on on the floor, her eyes meeting his teary ones. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, you are perfect exactly the way you are. I wouldn’t be able to go on day after day without you supporting me. You aren’t a burden and I never want you to leave even though I think you deserve better than this life. Selfishly, I can’t let you go. You make this place feel like a home and I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re not clingy…you mean so much to me, Y/N. I can’t tell you how sorry I am and how much I hate that I’ve hurt you. I’m supposed to protect you and you’re…you’re scared of me.”

“You looked at me with such hate,” she whispered, cringing. “I can’t unsee it no matter how hard I try.”

“Sweetheart, I could never hate you,” Dean breathed, “not when I’m too busy loving you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “You…what?”

“When I got back that night you said you thought there was something between us and I told you there wasn’t because of the spell’s influence. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve agreed with you. There’s always been a different connection between you and I. I don’t see you as a little sister the way Sam does. I know what I said, but Y/N, how could I not want you?”

Y/N blinked, trying to process what he was saying. “Uh, well, for starters, look at me.”

“I’m always looking at you. I think you’re beautiful exactly the way you are. You take care of me, you put up with my shit, and you’re my best friend. I can’t see myself with anyone else.”

“Dean…I-“

“You don’t have to say it back. I put you through hell, I don’t expect you to feel that way about me anymore.”

“No, I do, and that’s been the hardest part.”

Dean smiled sadly, reaching out to cup her cheek. “If you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life, however long that is, proving to you that I mean everything I just said.”

“It wasn’t you,” she whispered, “you don’t have to.”

“But I’ll do it if it means you’ll forgive me.” He wiped a few stray tears off her cheek, his thumb grazing her cheekbone. “Can I hold you?” He asked meekly, biting his lip. She nodded into his palm before getting scooped up in a hug, her face buried in his neck as Dean finally broke, tears landing in her hair. “I’m so sorry,” he cried, squeezing her to him.

“Dean,” she mumbled, her lips against his skin sending shivers down his spine. “Please don’t cry.” She rubbed his back softly, trying to soothe him. She didn’t expect this. 

“I hate this thing so much,” he muttered, her eyes casting down to his forearm where the Mark was hidden by his henley sleeve. “All it does is make me angry and it’s getting harder and harder to control it, especially after…”

“I know,” she nodded, knowing he meant Charlie and the Stines. “That whole thing…that’s what made me want to tell you how I felt about you. Waiting for you in the trunk of the car felt like an eternity and I knew I would be okay as long as you got to me. I always feel safe when I’m with you, Dean, always. But I was so scared that they’d find me first and I’d die before getting to tell you. You were so angry and it felt wrong to tell you right after we lost Charlie, but I gathered the little confidence I had while you were gone-“

“And then I came home under a spell and said what I said.” Dean sighed, his grip tightening on her. “When you called me and told me the Stines broke in, Y/N, I’ve been in awful situations like that before with Sam but this…this felt so different. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, not until I saw you and knew you were okay. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion, no matter how fast I drove.” Y/N shuddered at the memory, digging herself deeper into Dean’s chest, face pressed against his neck. She inhaled deeply, relaxing as his scent that can only be described as Dean calmed her senses. “You’re okay, you’re safe,” he whispered, kissing her hair. He laid them down on her bed, tucking her under his chin.

“Dean,” she whispered, fisting his henley. 

“Yeah baby?”

“I do love you, you know.” She could feel the chuckle rumble through his chest.

“I maybe had a small feeling, or at least hoped I was reading everything right.” He ran his fingers through her hair gently, breathing in her shampoo. “Will you give me a chance to make it all up to you?”

She pulled back to look up at him, cupping his cheek. He nuzzled against her palm, eyes locked on hers as his stubble tickled her skin. “Of course, handsome.” He grinned, pressing a kiss to her palm as she blushed. She couldn’t stay mad at Dean, never was able to. But knowing how he truly felt about her, that everything that happened was the work of a witch, she knew she couldn’t hold a grudge. That wasn’t her Dean, the man who sang her back to sleep when her nightmares took over even though he hated singing to anyone but Baby’s steering wheel. The man looking at her so intently, holding her so tightly, this was her Dean. “And Dean?” 

“Sweetheart?”

“I forgive you,” she smiled, Dean’s eyes softening as he let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, pulling her impossibly closer. He kissed her forehead and her nose before softly kissing her lips, pulling back and brushing his nose against hers. Dean knew what happened wasn’t his fault, and Y/N may have forgiven him anyway, but he fully intended on spending the rest of his life, however long it may be, making sure she knew just how much he loved her, and doing his very best to deserve someone as incredible as her.