#like today its this work thing that happened at least 2 weeks ago past couple days i'm starting to try and find problems with my body

[concoulor]

spending my time sitting here getting mad about things people said to me at work this is how i know i'm really sick

[jiminzfilter]

slow dancing in the night

→ Pairing. Taehyung x reader

→ Genre. established relationship, fluff, slice of life, model!taehyung, model!reader, taehyung missed you a lot, he is starving (his words not mine), gets a bit hot by the last 40 lines, mentions of oral (f) so I guess this counts as mature content, implied smut, making out (kinda), there is a bit of swearing

→ Summary. what could possibly be better than coming home after a long day of work to someone you love and missed a lot ?

→ Word count. 3.2k (!!!)

→ because I wrote this over a year ago when I still didn't know what I was doing with my writing, I had to go through a deep process of editing and re-writing before posting it. This might not be my best work but it's still a fic that I really really like :,)

→ song rec. slow dancing in the dark, Joji// still with you, Jungkook

Fridays have always been exhausting days for both you and your boyfriend, especially on runways weeks. As models, you were put under a lot of pressure.

Pressure to be perfect, to smile but never smile too much, to look good, to not fall on stage.

Falling has to be the most tragic thing that can happen to your carreer as a model, the hungry stares of thousands of photographers and reporters ready to share the latest news to the press.

Yeah, it was exhausting.

This week was no exception... or maybe it was since, this time, you were the only one working until late.

It’s four in the morning and you’re already on your way out - kind of running late, oBviOusLy - quietly wishing your boyfriend a good day.

He is not working today.

That lucky bastard.

He gets to enjoy his free day in bed, lazing around, while you work your ass off all day. He mumbles something that you assume is a sort of goodbye. He is still asleep.

You look at him one last time before leaving the room and smile. He looks so peaceful.

You still remember the day you met, by pure luck even though you both call that fate. That was 5 years ago, when you just debuted your career as a model and were not that comfortable around high heels.

Okay no. Let’s be real.

You hated wearing them because you couldn’t walk in heels higher than 5 cm.

It’s still a wonder how you managed to make it in the first place.

Were you wearing flat shoes for the audition ? Damn you really must’ve done an impression on the judges if they made you pass without the heels try-on.

Your first day at the agency was chaotic to say the least. Your manager made you walk around the building, to visit she said. She made you wear heels. HEELS. That devilish person.

But, thank to that, you got to meet Taehyung. Your eyes landed on him as you were visiting the lounge and couldn’t tear them away from his figure. The poor man had to witness you fall down because you weren’t watching your steps anymore.

I mean.

Who could blame you ??

That was Kim frEaking Taehyung

!!!

He even came to help you get back on your feet and asked if you were alright, kind of amused.

It’s not everyday you see someone falling down in here, let alone a newbie

Let’s be honest, you were so embarrassed.

First day of work and you’re already failing falling.

That night when you came home, you spent the night wearing heels and prayed really hard you’d never have to face him again. After all, the building was big enough and there were enough workers that you could avoid Taehyung easily

If only

The NeXt day, you were told that you had a couple shooting, with none other that Kim Taehyung.

GreaT

He would occasionally tease you about your fall and check on you to see if everything was alright. He watched you carefully as you were walking around with heels.

From up close he looked even more handsome.... :)

After this day, you started talking with Taehyung more and more. He introduced you to everyone around the agency. You met outside of work, got to know each other. You both became regally good friends but there was something lingering in the air, in the way you’d look at each other or stood so close to him after a couple glasses of wine that you could breathe his air.

So what was bound to happen happened and you went from friends a to lovers without really noticing it.

He was still your best friend...somehow

Eventually, you took things to the next level and moved in together... maybe a half and a year ago or so ? You’ve never been happier in your life

And, well, you’d actually be happier if you could spend the day with boyfriend instead of running around trying to find god knows which accessories you need for the rehearsal.

8 in the morning is noT a time to be doing cardio.

Especially while wearing heels

Become a model they said, it’ll be fun they said

“Y/n! Come here please I need you to try on this dress before you go!” Your personal stylist calls “I made sure to fix it yesterday so it’d be a perfect fit for the show”

You stop your tracks and go to her “make this quick i have to go get changed before 9 otherwise I’m screwed. Why did they even decide to do the rehearsals so early today ?” You sigh, frustrated, and put on the dress she’s handing you “thank you”

“Okayyy...it looks great. Gold looks amazing on you.” She smoothes the dress and gives an approving nod, visibly satisfied ; “You’ll look perfect for the Grand Finale. Oh god it’s already 8:30 you better go before Mr.Kim throws a fit because you’re late”

You both giggle ; “thank you for fixing the dress Naeun, see you later today. Well, probably tonight. Byeeee”

The rehearsal seems to never end. You’re squeezed in dozens of different outfits, gorgeous for sure but sO tight. Mr. Kim, the one who organised the runway, is such a perfectionist that you have to re-do some things multiple times before he’s satisfied. One time the lighting isn’t right, the other the models are walking too fast, not on beat and so on.

Everyone hates him for that but he always makes the best shows so you just follow.

After multiple tries, the rehearsal finally comes to an end. It’s already 4PM. You barely get time to breathe and go pee before you’re back into the ‘running-around-to-find-my-dress-and-fix-my-makeup-oh-god-i-gotta-be-on-stage’ crazy mess.

Walking on the runway feels amazing, running backstage is terrible.

It’s so hot and small back there you can hardly move around well.

It takes 2 hours for the whole fashion show to be over, one more for pictures outside the catwalk and chat with reporters. Since you’re kind of a famous model now, you get invited to the afterparty and spend few extra hours interacting with some celebrities that attended the show. Other models were invited and you’re happy to see familiar faces amongst them. Jimin, an old colleague and friend of yours, comes your way and compliments you. You chat with him for a while before deciding you’ve had enough for the day and leave the party. A few more people greet you on your way out.

A taxi takes you back to you company, where you left your stuff in the morning. You spend an extra thirty minutes getting rid of your heavy makeup and striping off that gorgeous but awfully tight golden dress you’ve been wearing ever since the end of the runway.

Now, you can FinaLLy go home. yassssss

It’s almost 12am when you leave the agency and climb into yet another taxi. The ride is quiet, background music playing over the car’s radio, and you take some time to look at what you were gifted for your performance : fancy makeup products, accessories, pieces of clothing-but not those from the runway, you sadly never get to keep those. Being kinda famous has its perks :,)

You then decide it’s time to warn Taehyung you’ll arrive soon and send him a few texts. As if he was waiting for them, he instantly replies saying he’ll be waiting for you and proceeds to spam you with heart emojis. Sometimes, it looks like this man just discovered what emojis were and is trying to use them as much as possible. What a child…

It’s way past midnight when you finally step into your duplex and the first thing you notice is that the place is way too quiet.

Maybe Tae went back to sleep, who knows, it’s super late after all…

:(

You remove shoes and jacket and drop your bags in the entrance before going further and you call out quietly “anyone here? Tae, you sleeping?”

There is a faint glow from the tv on your right but the sound has been muted.

Weird…

“Taehyung ?" You call one last time

Suddenly, two strong arms wrap themselves around your waist and you’re pulled into someone’s chest. You gasp, almost scream, but soften up when you feel the warmth on your back

“Hi baby” a deep voice says in your ear, sending chills down your spine “I missed you”

You turn around and are very pleased to see a handsome face and a warm exposed chest your boyfriend smiling at you.

“Mhm, missed you too” You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest, happy to hear his heartbeat. Taehyung places his head atop of yours and gently strokes your hair. You tighten your grasp around him and hum.

Few seconds later, he lifts your chin up and gently lays a kiss on your lips.

“How are you doing?” He asks, his right hand cupping your cheek. The warmth of it is comforting.

“Exhausted, but you know how it goes” You shrug and he smiles

“Not too tired for dinner ? I could cook something if you want”

“Mhm... let me just go shower and put something else on” You sadly let go of him

“Sure, go ahead” he whispers and you give him a kiss before regretfully tearing yourself away from him.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom, where you find the bed undone. You smile, Taehyung never really liked making the bed and, very honestly, neither did you. You slump onto the mattress and bury your face into the pillows, inhaling his scent. Lavender. Relaxing. Just like he is.

After a warm shower, you find a t-shirt Taehyung left on a chair in the room and wear it. It’s big enough to reach your thighs and, if you were more energised, you’d probably stay like this. You grab large pants and put them on.

Once again, you smell lavender all around you.

When you’re back in the living area, you see Taehyung busying himself in the kitchen. He hears your steps and his eyes find yours as a smile appears on his face when he notices that you’re wearing his shirt

“My shirt looks better on you than it’d ever do on me” He teases, his gaze longing on your frame.

“maybe I should keep it then” you smile and ask ; ”Do you need any help?”

“no no no no no, you’ve worked enough already. Go and have some rest. I'll call you when everything’s ready okay?”

Too tired to argue on this anyways -and thankful for the given rest-, you go lay down on the couch, your body oriented to let you look at Taehyung.

As he hums and moves to the chill music that was playing in the background, you start to detail his beautiful figure. From the curl of his dark hair (which you knoW are so so soft to the touch) to his beautiful profile and his nose you love so much down to his broad shoulder and then his tanned abs you see from time to time when the opened shirt of his pyjama moves according to his steps.

oH! Let’s not forget his perfect hands gripping at the pan’s handle while he cooks… vegetables? Something like that yeah.

Taehyung is giving his best into what he’s cooking. Vegetables with rice, that’s the only thing he could do quickly.

Quickly as in less than half an hour, unlike his friend Namjoon who’d take this time just to cook the rice.

The music he put earlier is slowly starting to bore him. After washing his hands, he reaches out for his phone and plays a different playlist. It’s one you name yourself when the two of you were still friends (aka not dating yet). “Taetae fm” because you once joked he should have his own broadcasting channel on the radio. He’d always criticise the music playing so why not have his own channel 👀

“You know Y/n, I actually watched the fashion show live this afternoon. I mean, of course you know because I always do that haha. Anyways, you really were the highlight of the runway tonight. And I’m not saying this in a biased point of view. Okay I might be a bit biased as your boyfriend but I swear that it’s true!! You literally shone back there, especially in that gold dress you were wearing and even the audience was impressed by your looks maybe you didn’t see it on stage but some cameras filmed their reactions and everyone was looking at you. Really, you were so gorge-oh” Taehyung looks at you and smile fondly “Of course you’re asleep, baby”

He lets his phone aside and checks the now cooked food before making his way to the couch. There’s a blanket on the sofa, he covers you with it, scared you might get cold. Taehyung put a loose strand of hair behind your ear and places a kiss on your chin.

You slowly open your eyes and find yourself face to face with him. You both smile.

“Hi there beautiful” He whispers

“what time is it? Did I sleep until the morning?” You’re scared of having slept through the entire nap without realising

“almost 1:20am, I just finished cooking. I thought you might be cold so I went to cover you with the blanket. You should go enjoy the food while it’s still hot, imma go to the toilet”

You nod as an answer and watch him leave upstairs. Getting up from the warmth of the couch is the hardest part so you keep the soft blanket draped around your shoulders and walk towards the kitchen. You grab two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks that you place on the counter along with glasses and a bottle of water.

You then go take care of the rice and the vegetables, which you mix in the pan. The song playing changes and your favourite nighttime tune starts.

“I don’t want a friend, I want my life in two” you sing along

“Waiting to get there, waiting for you” Taehyung’s voice startles you as he grabs your wrists and pulls your back close to him. You smile as he makes the both of you dance slowly. You put his arms around you so it’s like he’s hugging you from the back. You swing around for a little while, enjoying the close proximity as you both softly hum the song, making your body vibrate against each other, moving in perfect coordination.

“I love you” he whispers in your ear and then kisses it, sending chills down your spine, before lifting one of your arm up to make you turn so that you’re now facing him “did my baby sleep well?” You nod as you place your arms around his waist, paying attention to go under the shirt so you’re touching as much skin as possible.

Taehyung chuckles before asking you in that same, chill-sending, low deep voice ; “Still hungry? Because I’m starving”

If you didn’t just wake up, you would’ve definitely caught that lust in his eyes and also the fact that this wasn’t as innocent as it seemed.

As an answer, your stomach growls pretty loudly, making Taehyung laugh . “I’ll take that as a yes. Sit down, princess. Let me take care of you”

You do as he says, jumping on a stool, detailing all of his moves. You only realise how hungry you actually were when you start eating. Rice with vegetables has never tastes better. You eat everything in less than 5 minutes when you’d usually take your time to finish your plate.

“Damn, that was a well needed dinner! Thank you Tae” you mess a bit with his soft locks

“Imagine me who was waiting for you all evening!! I was hungry too” He pouts.

“Oh come on, I was working today. Cardio in heels isn’t the best way to wake up, let alone spend the whole day standing in tight clothes. When I think you has a day off… pfff. I saw the bed, I’m sure you stayed there all day, you lazyyyyyyyyy ass.”

He mumbles some gibberish and you giggle, knowing that you're right. He looks away, crossing his arms and obviously sulking. You leave your stool and stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You leave a few kisses on his cheek and neck

“- Don’t be such a babyy. You know I love you.

- You do?

- of course, you dummy” you bop his nose "Sooo, what do we have for desert?

- You. Uh I mean!! Yoghurt, fruits, cakes, fruits…anything” he clears his throat

“Great! What do you prefer?” You open the fridge

“ I’d very happily eat you out honestly but an apple sounds good”

“Oh sur- wait whaT!?” You snap your head to him, eyes wide open

what did he sayyyyyyyy?????

whaT am I even supposed to say noW oh my goddddd

You close the fridge’s door, suddenly not so yogurt-hungry.

There’s a sudden silence between the two of you, only disturbed by the music still playing in the background.

“Mhm? What is it?” He turns around to face you, asking so innocently “did I say something wrong ?”

This man knows what he is doing for sure. Has he ever been that straightforward before ?

Taehyung stands and closes the distance between your bodies, now towering over you.

He lowers himself slightly to speak in your ear “what is it baby? Mhm?” You feel his smile on your cheek when he lays a kiss on it “what happened to my all proud and fierce y/n who was so confident telling me I was being lazy all day, huh? Tell me” He lays another kiss on your temple

OkaY

now he’s being a tease

Great

1 A.M. fluffy and bare chested teaser Taehyung

gReAT

Anyhow, it’s a good turn on.

Really.good.freaking.turn.on

Being tired and turned on was definitely not a good mix for you. You could feel the heat rising in your body and hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“Tae…”

He laughs gently seeing you silently begging for more, brushing your face with his lips, teasing another kiss.

“Tsk tsk, you gotta speak darling, I cannot guess”

You should calm down and go to sleep, it’s 1am and you have work tomorrow you should definitely-

“Fuck-“ You sigh and grab his face, sealing your lips together while closing your eyes.

It doesn’t take long for that kiss to turn into a heated make out session.

You grab and pull some of his dark curls while his hands travels under his your shirt.

You break the kiss just a second to catch your breath.

“Have i ever told you you have the perfect body?” Taehyung asks

“Did I ever tell you how perfect you are??” You reply

He laughs, deep raspy laugh.

You’re too tired for this

And because you’re tired, you’re even more horny :D

Taehyung puts his hands behind your thighs and you jump, locking your legs around his waist, hands still in his hair, lips against his while carries you to the bedroom.

He leaves your lips to travel down your jaw and then collarbone. You throw your head back.

Taehyung gently lays you on the mattress of your king sized bed and makes it his personal mission to pleasure you tonight.

[nerd-by-definition]

Self Love Retrospective

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2021. Tag as many creators as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Tagged by @whipbogard

1. Ginger Snap

This one will always have a special place in my heart because it was the first fic I wrote (for DC, for JayDick, for ao3) a year ago today actually. I will take any and all opportunities to push my Jason & Colin dad agenda, so for your consideration:

There’s a shift in the shadows as the monstrous form ripples and shrinks down into the small body of a ginger-haired boy no older than Damian. He shrugs off the weighty brass knuckles and coat, tucking them into a bag hidden behind the dumpster, before scurrying towards the orphanage’s back entrance.

Jason stands frozen in place for countless minutes as his thoughts race, questions stumbling over themselves to be answered. However, the only thing he can articulate fully is, what the fuck?

2. You’re My Only Hope 

This one was my most ambitious project all year (& the longest at 35k) so if you like Star Wars AUs then have I got a fic for you:

A long time ago in a Galaxy far, far away…

It is a period of civil war. Aided by rebel spies, a young cyborg breaks free of his captors to bring important information to the hidden rebel base on Nanda Parbat. During the escape, a devastating blow from his Imperial pursuers forces him to crash land on the mostly lawless city-planet of Gotham, where scum gather to trade on the Black Market.

Stored in Kon’s systems is the secret location of a “weapon” that could change the tide of the war in the League of Rebels’ favor. Their dwindling forces have become no match for the Justice Lords’ reign of terror over the Galaxy, and he needs all the help he can get to reach safety.

Thankfully, a young prince in exile, his droid companion, and a group of Outlaws desperate for money, happen to be at the right place at the right time to do the unthinkable--restore freedom to the Galaxy…

3. Ghosts in the Attic 

My first attempt at writing in the Gotham By Gaslight universe as well as my first PWP fic and I’m kind of proud of that. So if you like Valet Jason lightly domming Dick, then this fic (& smutty series) is for you:

Morning birds chattered amongst themselves outside, the creaks and groans of the staff preparing for the masters of the manor to rise trickled through the house, and the squelching drip of cum still in Dick’s ass as Jason played with the ring of muscle, all coalesced into a song Jason could listen to every hour of every day.

4. A Spoonful of Sugar

This is much more niche, but still warms my heart. From the Damian/Colin Domestic sweetness to Baby Dickie and the Reverse Robins trope to the fun & sadness of soulmate AUs, I think this is my favorite of the Damian Wayne Week fics I did. So if all or any of that appeals to you, then try this:

Damian and Colin comfort a distraught Dick in the middle of the night. Thankfully, the boy is in good hands.

5. just one kiss?

I’m a sucker, a sap, a simp if you will, for Circus Boy Dick, and that flashback scene in the RH Annual where Jason went to Haly’s Circus lives rent-free in my head 24/7, so of course I had to write a spin-off of it. I will never stop writing versions of that moment, and if you liked it as much as I did, maybe try this:

He held the flame to the candle and nearly jumped when the wick caught right away, fire swirling in a rainbow of color that felt mesmerizing to behold. Jason lost a couple of moments just staring as it danced. Teasing him, tempting him, making him rethink his dismissal of its magical properties. What if it was real? What if he could spend the night in a memory, change things and see what if…?

But where would he go? What would he do?

There were many more to choose from (at least 71 fics all from last year) because it’s been such a fun year and I can’t wait to spread the love:

Tagging in case you haven’t been already <3 @mlim8 @heyitsani @justtoarguewithyou @horseyw and anyone else who wants to!

[thefanficmonster]

Just Another One

Sequel to: ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’

Corpse Husband x Actress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Mention of bad past relationships, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They keep proving each other right in the most wrong ways possible. They each want to be guarded even if that means the other will be hurt. Maybe that’s what they want - to hurt one another because they’ve already hurt each other once before.

Requested by the lovely readers who enjoyed the previous fic ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’. Sorry for the large time gap between the posting of the two fics but I still hope you guys will take the time to read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love you all with all my heart, Vy ❤

When you go out of your way to avoid leaving the house your options of entertainment are severely limited and you can’t blame anyone or anything but yourself for it. Today, I wouldn’t have gone out of my apartment even if I was one of those people who frequent the outdoors seeing as how the sky is trying to flood the Earth with all this nonstop rain. It does set a mood for a perfect night in but when you spend all your nights in doing the same thing over and over again, the atmosphere is practically meaningless. And so I ‘ve decided to resort to channel surfing as though I’ll find something interesting on TV that I haven’t yet seen on one of my social media timelines.

I pass several cooking channels on my journey, making a mental note of their individual numbers in case I don’t stumble across anything capable of better distracting me from my boredom and loneliness that’s slowly starting to creep in. I pass by a few movie channels showing teenage romcoms as if to celebrate the start of summer so you can imagine how quickly I moved on from those. Then come the celebrity channels which can often get a laugh out of me because of how pathetic and unbelievably ridiculous they are. And so, I stick around one where there’s a broadcast on a movie showing that’s happening tonight in LA. Oddly enough, despite my anxiety, going to a movie showing has always been on my list of things I’d want to do. This can be considered living vicariously or rubbing salt into the wound that I’ll probably never go because my anxiety and fear of being recognized is too severe. Either way I stick around to watch it.

And man do I regret it now looking at several different angels of a couple of actors entering the venue where they are to be photographed and asked questions by the mob of paparazzi that’s gathered due to the massive event. That in and of itself doesn’t sound - and really isn’t - so bad. However, it’s important to note that the actress in this duo is Y/N. Y/N L/N. My Y/N....shit, sorry, I mean my FRIEND Y/N, her arm linked with whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is who is holding an umbrella above the both of them, shielding them from the downpour of rain that is also taking place in LA apparently.

“The two were seen entering the venue earlier this evening, looking particularly cozy in each other’s presence if I do say so myself. The rain probably worked nicely in their favor.“ The first reporter says, her teasing tone of voice sending chills of anger down my spine as I glare at the screen, hands balled in fists, jaw clenched - all my body’s instinctive reactions to what is being shown to me. I know I technically have no right to behave or feel this way, in fact I should be fucking happy for Y/N and her successful career and the progress in her love life. But damn it how can I?! I was so damn close to kissing this girl! I was so fucking close to falling in another trap, tripping and landing in the embrace of another liar and user, another girl who switches partners more often than shoes. How could I’ve been so reckless to get so close to her even platonically? How did we become close enough for me to 1) show her my face; 2) start inviting her over to my apartment regularly; and how didn’t I notice the kind of messed up person she was all that time.

She was all sweet and flirting and shit a week or so ago and now she’s doing the exact same thing with him! The cameras are capturing them perfectly: every laugh, every exchange of a knowing look or nod, ever smack to his arm when he tells a joke. But what bothers me most is the many times he’s wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. Not just for pictures, but just because the fucker felt like it! And Y/N doesn’t seem to mind it at all. 

“They have been the talk of the town recently, so while they could just be adding fuel to the fire, they could also have been caught by the flame and ‘caught feelings’ as they say. Regardless these two are a view we’d like to see more often.“ The other reporter says and that’s the final straw.

In one swift motion I turn the TV off and throw the remote across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the ground in several pieces, broken by the force of the impact. Just like I am broken by the force of the impact of these news. I don’t know which is worse: the fact that I fell for her and almost let her know it; the fact that she’s just another member of the club I don’t want anywhere near my life; or the fact that I can’t believe it.

Yeah that’s right - one foolish part of me refuses to believe that’s she’d do such a thing. I think that’s the same part which is still in awe of her so you can bet I ignore that part the majority of the time.

She is just another one. Not the one. Having been hurt before doesn’t mean she won’t hurt me or anyone else she’s gonna be with. Hurt people hurt people.

And damn has she hurt me, probably without knowing a damn thing. How selfish can you be, Y/N? How selfish can you really get? And how much am I going to allow you to hurt me?

                                                             *  *  *

“Thank you so much, Andrew. I would’ve died on the spot of anxiety if I was on my own.“ I say to my best friend who is currently sitting next to me on a park bench, in a tux, eating a cheeseburger. I too am still in my gown and am also gorging on a cheeseburger of my own.

“Don’t mention it. Us anxious people need to stick together.“ He bumps his shoulder against mine, stealing a small genuine smile from me, “Plus I couldn’t not come with you. You know how much I like a good rumor.“

I scoff, “Of course you do, but then again there was no need to add to what the media has already made a whole-ass ship out of.” I roll my eyes and take another bite. My appetite hasn’t been in its best condition so I’m only eating this under Andrew’s orders. I have no idea how people can ship us romantically, he’s the definition of an older - and very bossy - brother to me. I wish I could tell each and every single one of those girls who hate me because I’ve ‘stolen their man’ that I’d most likely be their sister in law rather than man snatcher, seeing as how my relationship with Andrew is so sibling-like.

That’s because we’re too alike, no one gets that. People play the ‘opposites attract’ car more often than I consider rational. But  then again when they see a couple like Andrew and I - who are basically the same person in different bodies - they suddenly think we’re super compatible. Trust me, we’re not. And everyone who’s been on set with us will tell you the same.

“What can I say...“ he shrugs, smirking at me, “I like the fun. I bet Becca doesn’t though.“

I can’t help but huff. Andrew is the only one I’ve ever openly expressed my frustrations with Rebecca to. He was super helpful on the subject, seeing as how he can relate - many partners of his have tried to use him, some of which even succeeded. He’s more than qualified to school me on the topic but it turned more into sharing bad experiences. One of which was that instance back at Corpse’s apartment.

“And neither does Corpse I suppose.“ As though he’s read my mind, he pokes the hurt spot, pouring salt in the wound causing me to visibly cringe as though the pain was physical - because it was, I felt it in my chest and in my gut, a sharp stab of guilt and regret. 

Why did I let it come to that? Why did I let us get so close? How did I not think of the consequences?

“I don’t care if he does or doesn’t.“ My hand automatically reaches for the pocket of the jeans I’m not even wearing in search of a cigarette. Not that I’d be able to light one even if I had them on me - Andrew would smack it out of my hand before I could even take a single puff.

He has the audacity to laugh, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.”

That’s all he needs to say really - that’s enough to make me feel seen and understood. Though that’s not always a good thing. I often times wish he couldn’t read me so well. Better said: I wish I didn’t let myself be so readable, you know. I’m just glad he’s the one who sees me because if it were anyone else they’d use this vulnerability of mine against me. I’m well aware that it’s a weakness, a really inconvenient one, but damn it I can’t get rid of it. I feel like I’ll be less human if I lose it. Everyone’s allowed to be vulnerable, some just are lucky enough to choose who they’ll be vulnerable around. I’m lucky enough to to have a choice, not so lucky in the people I choose to trust. Guess that’s not a luck thing, it’s just my inability to decipher whether a person is worth all the pain and torture of coming clean to them or not. So far many people have burnt me but two stick out in particular - Becca and Corpse. Corpse especially, which is the odd thing considering he hasn’t even wronged me in any way. At least not yet.

“Your phone’s vibrating.“ Andrew says, pulling me out of my overflowing head when he hands me my phone which I handed to him because of my dress’ lack of pockets.

“Thanks.“ I mutter through a sigh as I take it from him, checking the notification I’ve gotten.

My stomach drops: it’s a message from Corpse.

“Hey I saw you are in LA but we have a stream tomorrow, will you still be participating?“

Before I can reply, he sends me another message.

“I know you’re probably very busy but we get the most viewership on the streams when you’re in them so....“

I’ve probably been staring at my phone screen for longer than I thought since Andrew felt the need to make sure I was still breathing: “Hey, you ok? You look terribly pale.” I can barely hear him let alone reply. I can’t hear my own thoughts to know what to reply to him. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring myself too, Andrew. I’m scared too. I’m scared of how broken my picker has become. I almost kissed this guy! I almost entrusted all my thoughts, hopes, wishes and goals to him! What the fuck was I thinking?! Well, at least I know what he was thinking about - viewership. Likes, subs, views, publicity. The more eyes on the stream the better for him and everyone else. I genuinely want to applaud him, no one has been so direct about using me before. I was in a relationship with Becca for almost a year before I accidentally found out what she had been doing the whole time. No one’s ever smacked me in the face with this much honesty. It’s bittersweet really.

I want to laugh, I want to cry, slap myself across the face, slap him...I want to do so much, but all I can do now is sit in silence and think of how I could be so stupid.

He’s just another one, how did I not see that? How do I never see it until it’s too late? Why is one part of me still screaming: ‘He didn’t mean it like that!’

AND WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT TO BELIEVE IT?

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[justaniche]

Hey! I’m dying for more Daxton. I seriously can’t wait for season 2. Can you write something about Nalini realizing Paxton is good for Devi? Like he takes care of her/protects her and helps her deal with her trauma

Thanks!!

Hi!

omg let me say first, anon, thank you for this ask. youre the first person to take me up on my offer to write stuff for you so thank you again.

A little bit about this writing piece before I actually show it to you, there was a point when I was writing it when I wasn’t sure if it was going to reach 1K words but there was a point where the words just start to flow and I can proudly say it is 2.1K and that is not a lot but based on what I thought it was going to end up being it has come along way. and this is one of my first-ish never have I ever work of writing. I think it’s the first I’ve written entirely off the top of my head. My other ones are either not posted or it’s my work inspired by the episodes and its just everything through Paxton‘s point of view so it’s a bit different.

this is getting sort of long so anyway, without further ado. here it is. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think and if you like it please feel free to send me another!

Nalini had just about had it. The day’s raging dumpster fire began with traffic that resulted in her being late to work. If that wasn’t bad enough, a patient she saw a couple days ago came back complaining that her treatment caused a breakout. After a follow-up, she discovered the patient hadn’t changed any of their habits despite her advice! So was it really the treatment, or the fact that they don’t wash their face? All that suffices to say when Nalini got home she was already on a very short fuse. Kamala was out for school and let her family know she wouldn’t be home for dinner so it was known by both Devi and Nalini that they would be cooking without her today. Nalini gave Devi specific instructions so that, regardless of how late her day ran, they could have dinner at a reasonable time. Devi did not follow those instructions. Nalini came home to the door unlocked, closed but unlocked, the house a mess, and Devi’s part of dinner not made. No matter how many breaths she took, Nalini was mad. No, mad didn’t quite cover it. She silently walked up the stairs, hell-bent on seeing what caused this disaster, and if she didn’t like the reason she planned to riff for the rest of the night. But approaching Devi’s door she found it ajar. She peeked inside, and that's where she found them.

After winning his swim meet, Paxton was on top of the world. The school day had been what it tended to be, light. Filled with class and hanging with his friends in the hotpocket. But that was hours ago. It was early evening when he saw her, Devi Vishwakumar, they had sort of become friends over recent weeks but given the up and down nature of their relationship, Paxton was always very aware of her. Devi had a way of grabbing Paxton’s attention. He was always trying to figure her out. Of course she made a hell of a first impression, first couple of impressions actually. Devi was sorely different from anyone else in his circle and Paxton wasn’t yet sure how he felt about the sudden invasion. He pretended he didn’t but after unintentionally watching her Paxton began to notice Devi’s change in mood sometimes. Like right now, from where Paxton was he saw the set of her shoulders. The tension was apparent as Devi stalked across the school grounds. Confusion flooded Paxton’s mind and before another thought could register, he was jogging towards her.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” He called towards her but she didn’t stop

Devi cast a look over her shoulder, her voice was muffled when she spoke, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” her voice cracks, “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Paxton slows down for a second as he takes in the situation, Devi speeds up.

“Are you okay?”

Devi breaks into a dead sprint and Paxton doesn’t think, he just follows.

Devi was doing okay. Today was harder than most for a reason she couldn’t name but Devi was making it through. That was until last period art class. The teacher gave a simple assignment, and that was to paint your happiest memory. Immediately when the words left his mouth, a memory came flooding into Devi's mind like a tidal wave.

Devi was 8 when her father convinced her mother that going to a Californian beach as a family would be an adventure. Devi barely remembers the build-up, it was a haze of packing sandwiches and equipment. Leaving the house, only to discover something had been forgotten. A car ride that seemed to stretch into forever. But the beach was magnificent. At least it was in Devi’s memory. It was a gloomy day, the threat of rain looming, so the beach’s visitors were far and few in between. Devi remembers that feeling of warm sand under her feet. She remembers those first fragile steps into the tide, only to rush back as the ocean crashed forward chasing her back to shore. She could see her mom, in the distance, setting up their makeshift camp for the day. She was more content watching her family than participating. The ocean was vast and blue and terrifying. Devi could not urge herself to take more than a few steps. Devi doesn’t know how her dad saw her distress but it was like he could read her mind. He grabbed her and lifted her high then settled Devi on his shoulders. He insisted that she was safe there, she was too high for the ocean to ever reach. He held her hand as he walked slowly but confidently further into the waves. He stopped just as the water kissed her mid-calf but it was enough. From way up here, with her father by her side, the ocean wasn’t anything to fear, it was something to marvel at.

Devi had a firm picture in her mind of her happiest memory and it was her family’s adventure at the beach. But Devi couldn’t make a move to make this image a reality. Sadness crept up on her and got a vice grip on her heart. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t breathe. How had she ever breathed before? Was it always this hard? The bell rang, signaling the end of the day but Devi was on autopilot. Eleanor and Fabiola felt miles away, whenever they’d focus in the daze of her mind, the grip on her heart tightened and dragged her back to darkness. Devi doesn’t know if she said goodbye to her best friends,

She blinked, band began

She inhaled, band was over

She stood, the sun was setting

She gazed, the stress stiffened her movements as she walked around campus. Where was she headed?

Devi was desperate for light, for clarity.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” The sudden noise broke the muddle, if only for now, she was again aware of the devastation and loss weighing on her mind and on her heart.

She recognized that voice and it was getting closer, she glanced over her shoulder. Paxton, no no no, she didn’t want anyone to see this least of all her newest and most popular friend, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” Why was her voice cracking? “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Devi finally knew where she wanted to go as she increased her speed.

“Are you okay?” Paxton’s question was the final straw, she couldn’t stop her tears and they fell uncontrollably past her cheeks. Paxton was going to catch up, and Devi was crumbling by the second. So Devi did the only thing she could. She ran, ignoring the echo of the beating steps behind her.

Nalini could hardly comprehend the scene playing in front of her. Devi, her only child, her entire world, looked so small folded up on the floor in front of her bed. Devi was always so strong, with a personality larger than life. She always seemed bigger than her stature, always taking up more space. Nalini's anger from the day deflates, leaving no trace it was ever there to begin with. Nalini tears her eyes away from the form of her daughter to take in the room. It was dark but the other figure inhabiting the room was clear as day. Paxton sat before Devi, his body language soft. He had one hand on the arms Devi wrapped around herself as he spoke to her gently. Paxton’s volume was soft as a whisper, any louder would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Witnessing this scene felt like a secret and the longer Nalini stood there the guiltier she felt. Devi never expressed emotions this deeply to her. Everyday problems with her friends or tests or Ben Gross, yes. But Devi never shared this.

Nalini's mind was going a million miles an hour as he crept back down the steps and began cooking dinner. She knew Devi would refuse but she needed to have something ready, just in case. When everything was mostly done, she was quiet as she moved around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the meal. Nalini knew he was trying to walk silently but she still caught Paxton as he descended the steps. Nalini kept her back to him as she called, giving Paxton an out if he needed.

“Paxton?”

“Um...yes, Hi Mrs. Vishwakumar” at the acknowledgment, Nalini felt comfortable enough to turn around.

Paxton was standing in the doorway, shuffling in obvious discomfort. What he expected her to say she didn’t know. Gods, neither did Nalini. Questions flew through her mind faster than she could catch them. She didn’t want to ask him about what happened, Nalini wanted Devi to share when, if, she was ready. Nalini realized, amongst these questions, that she didn’t know Paxton. Here was this kid, late in the evening comforting her daughter. She couldn’t even be upset that they were home alone when she recalled how broken Devi looked. All Nalini had done thus far was judge Paxton, he looked like a jock so she thought him dumb. She made these assumptions about him, that he’d peak in high school or that he was shallow or that he was a walking STI, but they were just that. Assumptions. This kid stayed with her daughter for she didn’t even know how long, she’d been cooking for close to an hour so it was at least that.

All these guesses and judgments were useless when she stood in front of him. Paxton had a rigid set to his limbs, Nalini thought it was probably from sitting in one position for so long, and he was still dressed in gym clothes. Paxton looked new in Nalini’s eyes and she regretted never wanting to know him before now. Nalini didn’t know where to begin, she wondered if he’d eaten.

“Would you like something to eat?” Nalini's silent prayer must’ve been heard because he accepted. She was being given another chance. She quickly worked around the familiar space, grabbing one of the good containers and piling more food than necessary, successfully straining the unyielding plastic. She was handing the meal over when she paused, they both had a hand on the object between them but Nalini couldn’t let go, not yet.

“Thank you, Paxton, really, I don’t know what happened and I won’t ask but I saw what you did for Devi.” Paxton had the decency to look a little shocked. He hadn’t heard anything. Paxton was too absorbed before. His mind was a broken record repeating only, Devi.

The moment shatters when the front door opened, “I’m home!” Kamala’s voice fills the silent home. With the trance broken, Nalini’s hold on the container falters and she drops her hand allowing Paxton to leave. Words were failing him so all Paxton could give was a tightlipped smile in response.

“Thanks for the dinner.” Paxton’s smile was looser now and that gave Nalini courage.

Kamala was unloaded the day around her but Nalini was focused on making this right, “You’re welcome to come by Paxton, anytime.” She could only hope Paxton knew just how much she meant those words. His smile was burdened but bright, he nodded strongly and then he was out the door.

Kamala was fixing the table for a very late dinner when she called for Devi to join, Nalini hoped she would. “Who was that? And why was he here so late?” Pure curiosity laced Kamala’s voice.

“Paxton is one of Devi’s friends. He’s a good kid.”

Those details were all she could provide before Devi came bouncing down the steps. Nalini couldn’t be sure if it was the fact of what she saw or reality but Devi’s movements looked heavier than they normally were.

“What’s up guys?” Devi’s voice feigned casualness, “Dang mom, isn’t it late for a thousand-course meal?” She questioned as she took in the lack of clear surfaces on the dinner table.

Nalini just brushed it off, indicating for everyone to take a seat. “So how was everyone’s day?”

Nalini wasn’t looking for Devi to share but this was her family. She would always want to hear how they were, plus it was tradition. As they consumed insane amounts of food they were bound to regret eating this late at night, everything felt so normal and easy. But something had shifted in Nalini today and even though it was new and she was scared to death of this person entering Devi’s life with the propensity to hurt her. Nalini can’t say she minded too much because it was Paxton. He had proven himself worthy of a chance, and Nalini wouldn’t soon forget it.

[let-them-read-fics]

Ghostin'

Requested By @heyziggy: "Song prompt -- 'Ghostin' by Ariana Grande. Reader is dating Rosé and misses her lost lover."

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,676

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Death, Crying, Some Cursing, Some Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Did I write this between the hours of 1 and 8am? Yes, yes I did. Inspiration struck and I was able to crank this one out pretty quickly for you! I'm happy with it, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There they are again. Those eyes that have haunted you for the past year, turning what little progress you've made to dust within a second. People say time heals all wounds, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now.

A rough tremble wracks through your body as you toss and turn, your limbs reaching out for someone that'll never be there again. She's calling out to you, her arms outstretched as she waits in vain. Your feet are rooted in their spot and no amount of effort possible can make them budge. Tears roll endlessly down your cheeks, a steady stream that feels all too real in the moment. As you scream out her name, you faintly hear your own being called; it's distant, but accompanied by a strong grip on your shoulders. 

"...Y/N." 

Upon jolting awake, your eyes open to find Rosé hovering over you, propping herself up on her elbow. A thin sheet of sweat has formed on your skin, and you attempt to ground yourself by looking up at her. Slowly but surely, her features overtake the ones still burning in your mind from the dream and you're able to breathe again. She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her cool fingers against it lovingly. 

Despite the darkness, you can see the bags underneath her beautiful eyes. "I'm sorry, baby." 

She simply shakes her head in response, whispering, "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here to take care of you." 

In one motion, you pull her into your arms and bury your face in her neck. This isn't the first time this has happened, and you curse yourself for forcing her to grow accustomed to it. She tries to disguise how much it affects her too, but her efforts are always futile; you can read her like a book, knowing that every time that name falls from your lips in a hushed shout, her heart breaks a little more. She doesn't blame you for a second, but neither of you can deny the strain it puts on your relationship. 

She adjusts the two of you so that you're laying against her as she soothingly rubs your back. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered into your ear, and the tears you've been holding back soon begin to fall. Some drop from her eyes as well, but she takes comfort in the fact that you're in her arms, allowing her to hold you. Most of the time you push her away, leaving yourself to suffer alone in some cruel form of self-punishment. But now, if only for tonight, you let yourself sink into her warm embrace.

----

1 Week Later -- The Anniversary

12 months ago, today. That's when your world shattered for the first time and everything fell apart. Your heart had been free of such pain until that fateful day, innocent and unaware that sadness like that even existed. That was the first time you ever truly questioned a higher power, baffled that any 'benevolent ruler' could steal such a bright light away from the world. Your first love -- the girl you once imagined spending forever with -- was killed in a hit and run, left to die alone on the pavement. 

A majority of your youth belonged to her: the two of you grew up together, slowly falling until you had enough courage to make her yours. Countless memories were made, back when you had no idea how much they'd mean to you in the future. Life was fun with her: she made the mundane things interesting, and the adventures unforgettable. She was unashamedly herself, never stopping for a moment to give a damn about what anybody else thought of her. The two of you had each other, and that's all that really mattered. She was everything to you.

She was. 

You still find her in the little things. Whether it be a commercial for her favorite cereal, a bottle of her signature perfume catching your eye as you shop, or even just a flash of her favorite color, you swear that she's still around. After spending so many years with her, it's nearly impossible to imagine her gone. She was so full of life and enthusiasm when her presence still graced the Earth that the thought of her being faded, that twinkle in her eye forever extinguished, seems like an insult to her legacy. 

How are you supposed to move on from something like that? Rosé has been one of the only things keeping your head above water ever since she walked into your life, but a limit exists to what even she is capable of. After getting absolutely no closure, not even being able to see the perpetrator brought to justice, you're left to pick up the pieces. You've always been the type to deal with things on your own, finding it selfish to bring your loved ones down with the weight of your pain, but even you have to draw the line somewhere. 

Perhaps that dream had been a sign -- some type of cosmic warning for what was soon to come -- because that line was crossed today. 

Her family requested for you to return to your home town and celebrate her life with them. The invitation was extended to everyone she had touched before her life was taken, and even those who wished to show their support despite not having the privilege of knowing her personally. You agreed, and spent the day surrounded by people just as sad as you.

It was strange, at first; being back in the place you had so desperately tried to run from to escape the reality of what happened. But seeing all of them again reopened wounds that had never really gotten the chance to heal in the first place. Her parents' faces, so tired and troubled beneath the mask they attempted to put on, struck a chord within you. Her brother tried to be strong for them, you could tell -- but upon hearing his stifled sobs coming from upstairs, you could see how much it all still affected him. Your old friends were there as well, and their stories of your shared escapades only broke your heart more. It was a physical pain now, the once dull pinch giving way to a full blown ache. As you walked around her house, replaying all of your experiences with her, you felt empty again. 

She meant so much to everyone she ever uttered a word to, and yet she was gone in the blink of an eye. You'd think that someone as incredible as her would get some sort of divine protection, if you will -- a blanket of defense against such a cruel fate. But life works in ways we don't understand, and we have to find a way to deal with that. You'd hoped returning here would help you on that quest, but you've come to learn that no one really has access to that elusive answer. 

Though the day brought on the reunion of so many of you, it ended just as it had started: none of you any closer to closure. It would take time, no doubt, but you wished more than anything that the road to peace was a little shorter. 

-----

Rosé

Sweet, incredible Rosé. She waltzed into your life two months after the incident. A breath of fresh air in every way, she brought light back into your life. She refused to stand by and watch as you slowly destroyed yourself, letting the walls crash down around you. She made everything secure again, successfully keeping you sane and grounded. 

Falling in love with her was never something you saw coming. The emotions took their time in building up, every considerate thing she did for you adding to your list of reasons for loving her. It all accumulated until you couldn't hide it anymore, and even she could tell that she was getting through to you. Your fragile heart seemed to forget about its brokenness, because it soared at the mere sight of her. 

The day she asked you to be her girlfriend was an emotional one, to say the least. You accepted without hesitation, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggested that being with Rosie was a treasonous act. Trying to move on felt wrong; your confused heart sent mixed signals, thinking it possible to wait for your ex's return. 

But Rosie dealt with it perfectly -- better than you could have ever wished for. Not one time did she try to take your ex's place; she always respected your process and boundaries, and she never drew comparisons between your relationships. Rosé knew from the get-go that times would get rough, but she never shied away. Arguments happened, as they do with any couple, but she watched her tone and always took time to think before she spoke. 

Constantly, she worked to get you to let her in. Sometimes -- rarely -- she succeeded. On the nights that you found yourself crying over her again, your heart aching like usual, Rosie was always next to you in an instant. She hated seeing you so distant and hard on yourself, and she vowed from the beginning that she would be a positive influence in your life. 

------

The Birthday

2 weeks ago, Rosé had requested today off in order to be by your side. Your ex's birthday is today, and Rosé knows you'll need her more than you're willing to admit. 

"Baby, wake up. Let's get some breakfast." 

She rolls over to wake you with a kiss, only to find you already sitting up with tears in your eyes. She reaches up to wipe them away, but you dodge her hand before she can. That's what she can't stand. Having you push her away, effectively keeping her at arm's length, hurts her so much more than you know.

Although she's talented at reading you, truth be told Rosé has absolutely no idea how today will go. You've yet to experience a day like today -- your ex's birthday -- without her here, and even you don't know what'll happen. Your mood is capable of changing in a whipstitch, so you'll have to see how the day plays out.

"Y/N, please." Her eyes are pleading as you look at her again, and they rake over your sad features. Your bottom lip trembles as more tears threaten to overflow, and you sink your teeth into it to quiet yourself. Wordlessly, you do as she asks: you press your forehead against hers and let out a broken sigh as she strokes your arm. Her touch is comforting beyond belief, and you can't help but feel like you don't deserve it. Constantly putting her through the same shit makes you feel like a terrible person. 

"You're too good to me." 

She goes to shush you like always, but you don't drop it this time. 

You gently scoot away from her, meeting her eyes as she mimics your actions and raises her head. 

"I can see that it gets to you, Rose. I hate myself for hurting you… I just keep letting you down."

She's prepared to ease your fears from the start, not willing to get into an argument right now. "Stop, okay? I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can decide when I want to stay and when I want to go. I knew from the beginning that we would have these struggles, and none of it has made me change my mind about you."

Her words make your heart flutter, but you still have plenty on your mind to discuss with her.

"You deserve someone without so much baggage. I can't pretend like I'm not still affected by it."

"When have I ever asked you to do that?" She cocks her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow as she waits for you to respond. 

"You don't have to, babe. Seeing what it does to you is confirmation enough." You shrug lightly, allowing your eyes to break away from hers for a moment as you gather up what other words you want to say.

"You'll never admit it, not to the full extent, anyway, but I know I'm hurting you. That's the last thing I want; you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy." 

"Jagi, do you really think our relationship makes me unhappy? I'll admit that this isn't always easy, but no relationship is, and never once have I even thought of leaving. You seem to forget about yourself in all of this; your happiness is just as important as mine."

She chooses to ignore the self-deprecating scoff you let out at her last sentence, opting to just continue with her train of thought; convincing you to value yourself is a battle for another day.

"So please, let me in. I want us to get through this." 

"I do too, baby. So so much. I just can't help but think you could find someone better. I'm a fucking charity case at this point." You drop your head now, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You know she'll be upset with you for thinking so lowly of yourself, but her disappointment almost certainly pales in comparison to the contempt you hold for yourself.

With a heavy, tired sigh, Rosé hooks two fingers underneath your chin and gently lifts your head. "Y/N, look at me. I don't know how to make it any clearer to you: you are the person I want to be with. I want you in my future, and in order to make that happen I'm more than willing to help you deal with your past. I know it's not simple; I know it's never going to be easy; but I want you. All the strings attached."

You blink at the sincerity behind her words, a bit taken aback that she's so steadfast in her decision to stay with you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you that you were blind to the true extent of her love. It's consistent and unwavering, and you've never felt more valued than when you're with her. To her, you never were nor will you ever be a charity case; she loves you because you're imperfect; because you need her just as much as she needs you. 

"Okay." 

The simple word from you is more than enough to put Rosie at ease, and she doesn't even try to stop the smile that spreads across her cheeks as you pull her into your lap for a hug.

A light squeak from the bedsprings serves as the only sound in your room as you silently hold one another. She knows that 'okay' was your way of telling her you're ready to let her in. 

"I love you." You whisper against her neck, allowing your lips to brush against her soft skin. Both of your collars are wet with tears following the emotional moment you just had, but neither of you care. 

"I love you, too, baby." She returns, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

After spending a moment just holding one another, communicating your emotions through light touches and kisses, you lift up onto your knees and lay her back onto the bed. She cups your cheeks, loving how they feel beneath her fingertips as you stare into her eyes. Your hands sit on either side of her torso to hold you up, keeping you in place as you smile down at her. Intimate moments like these hold a special place in her heart, and she can never get enough of them.

"I'm so afraid of losing you, Rosie. God, you have no idea how much the thought of it terrifies me." You shut your eyes now, willing away the images of a life without her.

For some reason she had never really considered that to be a cause for your unreachability before. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense; losing someone so close to you in such an unexpected way can definitely make you afraid of getting close to people again. What if you lose them, too?

"I can't predict the future, my love, but I can promise you that I'll spend the rest of my days on this Earth next to you. And I'll find you in whatever comes after, too; you're not getting away from me that easy." 

The last sentence is playful, and you smirk at her lightheartedness. She knows just what to say to lighten the mood.

"You're the greatest." You say, leaning down to capture her full lips in a meaningful kiss. She hums into it, pulling you flush against her body as she flips you over. 

"Oh really?" She teases, pressing feather-light kisses to your jaw. She can feel your heartbeat pick up, and she grins cockily at the effect she has on you.

"M-mhm." You mutter out with a slight stutter, tracing your hands down her body before letting them rest on her hips. 

"Why don't you show me, then?" She's straddling you now, and she pulls away from your neck to gaze down into your darkening eyes. 

Soon the room is filled with a high pitched squeal as you pounce, pushing her backwards until her back hits the mattress again. 

"As you wish, princess." You say, giving her a little salute before kissing her again. 

She smiles against your lips and lets out a joyous giggle at your antics. 

-------

The Second Anniversary 

"Are you ready, baby?" She asks, turning to look at you and gauge your reaction. 

You let out a jagged breath, the air leaving your lungs a bit unevenly as you try to steady yourself.

With a nod, you exit the car and walk around to open Rosie's door. "Such a gentlewoman." She says, garnering a genuine smile from you. Her playful tone calms you, and you peck her lips in a sweet kiss. 

"Come on, let's go inside." 

At your words, she slips her hand into yours and the two of you begin your journey towards the house. 

The rest of the day goes by better than you had ever imagined possible: Rosé joined conversations easily, and she offered plenty of comfort to everyone in need of it. Her presence is enough to lessen anyone's pain, but she truly showed her skills today. 

Towards the end of the celebration, your ex's parents pulled you away from everyone else and into the hallway for a private word.

"We want you to come visit her, with us." 

Your first instinct is to adamantly refuse, but the looks on their faces are enough to give you pause. No amount of time can make up for the loss they've had to endure, and you know they wouldn't have asked unless they really needed you there. 

"Okay, we'll be there." 

They pull you in for a hug, and Rosé tears up at the emotional moment. She sends you an understanding look once you eventually meet her gaze from across the room, and you give her a sad smile in return. 

----

The Visit

"Hey, baby; it's us again. Everybody came by earlier and it was so nice."

"You would've loved it, baby girl. We all miss you so much." 

They hold each other close as they take turns speaking to her, their voices a little stronger than you remember them being last year. Slowly but surely, they're learning to adjust to life without their daughter. 

You turn your head to the side, burying your face in Rosé's hair to distract yourself from the sadness creeping in. You hadn't come back to the cemetery since her funeral, so even just standing there causes the memories to come flooding back. Rosie's grip on you is strong, and you thank her for that; without her you'd surely be a wreck by now. 

A few minutes later, her parents step to the side and look over to you in a wordless request for you to say something. 

"Hey, champ." You crouch down next to her tombstone, missing the way her parents smile at the old nickname you used to call each other. 

"It's me. I hope you're happy up there… you deserve to be. You'd better save us some good seats." You tease, reaching up to dust some dirt off of the sleek surface of stone. The material is beginning to become rougher, you note to yourself.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Y/N. I owe you the world." Rosie smiles bittersweetly, resting her hand on your shoulder as she looks down at the picture on the tombstone. 

Something -- some unmistakable force, a gut feeling -- tells you to look up. You listen to it, slowly raising your head until you can see the expanse of the cemetery in front of you. The evening sun is giving way to a breathtaking sunset, and the remaining golden rays filter in through the leaves of the tall trees overhead. A flash of brown hair catches your eye, and you almost gasp at what you see.

There she is.

Your ex -- well, more specifically, the ghost of her -- stands amidst the tree line that borders the property. She raises a hand up to wave at you, offering a peaceful smile as she glances between Rosie and you. You smile your own lopsided grin at her, and soon after, she fades away completely. 

Inconspicuously, you look up at her parents. They have a knowing look on their face as you stand up and loop an arm around Rosé's waist, pulling her in close to rest your forehead against hers. She kisses your cheek before using her finger to poke the soft surface adorably.

"Ya know," her father starts, pulling your attention away from your girlfriend. 

"She visits us too, sometimes." He finishes with a smile.

A content feeling settles within your chest at his words, and you let out a soft sigh. 

She always was a sucker for happy endings.

[elliothier]

A happy 26th birthday from the fun year of 2021, future me! It is nearly 1am as I write this, just at the start of my official birthday, unlike last year when it was midnight at the end of the day.

So, let’s start things off with how things have been going. Today we temporarily move out to get the renovations done in the house -- I hope this is the only time renovations will be a Bother, you can laugh bitterly if they continued past these 5 weeks, it’s okay -- so I anticipate not necessarily having enough time to write this out later. Or, y’know, my brain might just be entirely dead, because today has been quite eventful in its stead!

The day (yesterday, technically, the 24th) started off with the local grandparents vising for the bday, and you know how that is, she’s loud, which is perfectly fine, but hell on the waking eardrums. We had that 25-50-75 party on the 3rd this year if you remember that, but forgot to take a picture, so I brought that up and we did that. Gran fussed over not having lipstick on, mom cleaned hers off and offered it, and for the hell of it I joined in and for the picture all three of us were wearing the same lipstick. Very fun! Luke came by later as well to pick up his stuff, brought along a gf, which was lovely meeting her. I’d say we vibed.

And then, the main event. Well, first some gaming in between, A Dance of Fire and Ice, got 4 achievements today! Beat world 12, perfectly, then world 3 speed, and world 6 speed, which I barely completed in time for D&D. That’s right, just like last year, D&D plays a role, we were still on voice when the day rolled over and I couldn’t wish for a better start.

We were on a halloween one-shot (part 2), the Death House, where I got to play with Courage and made his instrument a kazoo. It was glorious. He was still possessed when we started, making him extra terrified and throw a minor tantrum when it became evident we had to go to the basement. Ace had to convince him to go down, scaring him with ghost stories of what could happen if he didn’t join them, which worked. Oh, how the table turns. Further in Ace first scares the crap out of Courage to pick the lock on the chest he was trying to open and steal the treasure from under his nose. Mini was nice, at least, but Courage really did not like Ace for that move. And then even further, in the very depths, the two of them get to the central platform when figures appear, chanting that “one must die”. Ace was the only one to realize what’s going on and immediately turned on Courage, trying to kill him and very nearly succeeding, living on 1 HP! Ka bit his ankles, but Mini tried to persuade the monster in the corner to devour Ace. It woke up. And Ace ran tf away, informing them that was the very reason he was trying to sacrifice Courage as it would devour them all. All make it out, barely, but phew! What a session! Including requested kazoo send-offs for the ghosts of the couple that owned the house.

Phew, that was a long story, but I had such a good time I had to remind you of it. I haven’t even shared it with Emily yet, but I will, probably after this. Today will probably suck, but the early celebration at least I would say has been a success. And no, there has been no new instrument this year (djembe last year, guitar the year before), but I did improve at guitar playing this year, so there’s that! I hope that by now the music room has been fully set up and has seen some use. I’d say plenty of use, but let’s be realistic here, yeah? A couple of sessions is already nice.

So how are you? Has the day been treating you well? Will the day be treating you well? What about the year? I had my correction shortly after last birthday, that’s recovered decently, I hope the scars have faded more since. Oh, and I started at the workplace that teaches coding a few weeks ago, been there 3 times now and do think I like it. Very curious to see how that will pan out in the long term. Came out as enby there too, reflexively, but hey they sure do try. Oh, did His Dark Materials season 3 come out yet? I’m looking forward to that, if it didn’t come out yet surely it will soon!

So anyway, after that exciting day, I hope you’ll have a similarly good experience either today or the day before or somewhere in the vicinity! And I hope you are very much starting to thrive, in whatever way that may be 💚

Now to write something for The Box, I sure hope I didn’t forget about that last year 😂

[maybedefinitely404]

For You Became My Lighthouse (Part 2)

Genre: hurt/comfort

Pairing: romantic Prinxiety

Content: argument, crying, a decent dose of awkward but it gets resolved!

Word count: 4.1k

Comment: This is the fourth time I’ve tried to post this--- Part 1 HERE!

Roman, is everything alright?

-Logan

Roman ran a hand through his hair at the message, checking the time at the top of the screen. It was late, far too late, so it was safe to assume that Logan had heard about the spat from Virgil. He should have been home by now. It was just… impossible to convince himself to actually leave the rehearsal studio. He had a younger acting class tomorrow and was perfecting his lesson plan- even though he already knew it was perfect, and his director had already approved it. Just, anything to keep him from going home.

He’d been a dick. Such was obvious; from the second his finger had hit send, he regretted approximately everything in his life that had led to this moment. That day had been particularly bad, overrun with rehearsals he was either taking part in or directing, and gearing up for tech week of a large production. Who knew trying to block a scene with a flurry of pre-teens could take so much out of you? Rinse and repeat the cycle with two more classes to teach back to back and an achingly long dance rehearsal, add in a desperate and fruitless search for a replacement lead in his upcoming directorial debut, and you’d have what Roman would categorize as a “shit show of a day”. 

All he wanted to do at the end of it was spend some time with his boyfriend, without having to talk about his day, so he’d suggested the most basic date his fried brain could conjur. Then his work desk was unceremoniously reacquainted with his forehead as he smacked it into the wood, letting out a groan that bordered on a yell. Luckily, minutes ago everyone had abandoned the theatre, and he’d been trusted with the keys to lock up from a stagehand. He just had a couple more things to do, and then he could drive home. 

Getting a reply of denial from Virgil was nothing new. In fact, he’d been warned in the transition from reluctant acquaintanceship to inevitable friendship, that he tended to veto ideas if they were sudden, or too daunting, or if he was just feeling shitty. It was something that Roman never considered a deal breaker, and he’d slowly come to much rather enjoy a night of cuddling and watching television than going out anyways. Call it ‘getting old’, call it ‘Virgil’s homebody ways creeping into his psyche’. So usually, getting his plans rejected was no big deal. 

Except for today, when he was well and past his limit of frustration, and things not going to plan. He’d typed out and sent the snarky reply far before he’d thought it out whatsoever, and ranted out complaints that hadn’t ever crossed his mind before, which he immediately regretted. In a moment of shame so great it caused physical nausea, he tossed his phone into one of his desk drawers and slammed it shut. 

It buzzed once, twice, and then went silent. 

Until, of course, it began to go berserk an indecipherable amount of time later, and Roman couldn’t ignore it. Seeing Logan’s text, along with about a million missed calls from him and Patton, broke the fragile sense of calm he’d tried to achieve while working. 

He didn’t want to go home and face his consequences. Childish, yes. Well deserved, also yes, but he was afraid of Virgil’s inevitable anger. If this led to a breakup, a fight that wasn’t recoverable, he’d never forgive himself. 

And now…

Roman, is everything alright?

-Logan

I can see you’ve read my text message.

-Logan

I’m at work. 

You’re inconceivably moronic. Get home. Now.

-Logan

Roman sighed heavily through his nose, clenching his jaw. He began typing out another snarky response- because apparently he never learned- when another text came through.

Virgil was in significant distress last I spoke to him and he has stopped answering me and Patton. Go. Home.

-Logan

Please. If not for my sake, then for Virgil’s.

-Logan

Fuck.

Roman barely had the sense to lock the doors of the building in his rush, throwing the spare key back in through the mail slot and booking it to his car. He sent some sort of confirmation that he was going and tossed the phone to his back seat. Virgil hated when he used it while driving.

It was only on the drive back, on unusually empty roads, did he realize it was well past nine. He hadn’t even noticed the time passing by.

Most of the lights in the apartment complex were still on when he pulled into the car park, but their window visible on this side showed only darkness. He wasn’t used to entering a dark apartment.

Their flat was silent, the living room only illuminated by the oven clock and the dim city lights from the balcony. He toed off his shoes as silently as he could, wincing when he kicked their shoe rack, and decided he’d risk turning on the light. When he finally found the switch and flicked it on, he couldn’t help his gasp. 

The room had once been a pristine display, he could tell. A white table cloth adorned their usually bare dining room table and a half burned candle stood as its centrepiece. He approached it in a daze, cautiously resting a hand on the plate of ravioli nearest to him. Cold. Long cold; the pasta was starting to get crusty. 

He picked up the two plates, intent on throwing out the food. It definitely wasn’t safe to eat anymore, and he didn’t feel like warding off an attack of ants in the morning. One of the towels hanging off the oven handle was drenched in what looked like marinara sauce, and it looked like there was some more spilled in the crack between the stove and the counter. That would be fun to clean. 

Both hands full, he opened the cupboard containing the garbage bin with a socked foot, and promptly froze. 

Part of him cringed at the clang the dropped plates made on the counter, but the louder part of him was just repeating a mantra of ‘holy shit, holy shit, holy shit’ and it was considerably out-screaming the other. Hands now shaking, Roman picked up the small box from the sink edge, ignoring the dried, crunchy texture of more tomato sauce on the outside, and opened it. 

It took every ounce of strength for Roman not to collapse to his knees, guilt instantly crushing the air from his lungs, a thousand times heavier than it had been before. An elaborate dinner, a ring… there had been a plan. That’s why Virgil had rejected his offer to go out. 

And he’d been such a dick to him. 

Speaking of which, where was he?

Roman closed the box and set it back where it had been. Their bedroom door was slightly ajar, and the most obvious place Virgil would be, so he padded over and creaked it open just a bit more. The light from the hallway cast a beam onto the bed, illuminating first a mess of hastily thrown clothes; his button up shirt he only used for fancy occasions on top of the pile. 

Virgil’s huddled form was easy to make out, curled away from the door, his only movement being the steady rise and fall of the blanket as he breathed. Figaro lifted his head from where he was settled in the crook of Virgil’s knees and gave Roman an indifferent mrow. 

He couldn’t get into bed with him. There was no scenario where that was the right move. It wasn’t the right time to talk about what had happened, not so late and when they were both riding high on emotions and tiredness, so accidentally waking Virgil was not the way to go. And even if he was sneaky enough to not wake him… a part of him just felt it was wrong. Not when he didn’t know Virgil’s stance on him at the moment.

Or his stance on the relationship.

Well, couch it was. He acknowledged the crumpled weighted blanket and sound blocking headphones- clear aftermath of a bad panic attack- with a quiet curse. Somehow that pit in his stomach got even bigger, making him nauseous as his shame took a physical form. 

He could only pray that they would come back from this. 

Roman’s sleep was fitful, to say the least. At best, he drifted into a state of half-consciousness, where his thoughts could be somewhat quieted down, but the discomfort of the couch and the heavy weight in his heart were still palpable. Inevitably, one of their neighbors would make a noise or the building would make a settling creak or a distant dog would bark, and the state would be broken, leaving Roman wide awake and wracked with guilt once more. He’d never noticed how loud the world was until he wanted nothing more than for the noise to stop. 

The sun was just peaking into the window when their bedroom door widened and Roman flew up, using the back of the couch to steady his sudden sitting position. When their eyes met from across the room, Virgil in his pajamas and face hidden in shadow, a tenseness settled over the room that neither had experienced in their relationship thus far. Virgil froze in the doorway, wavering slightly. It didn’t appear he wanted to be the one to break the silence. 

Roman stood slowly, as though not to spook him.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Virgil whispered with a sniff, and even in that one word Roman could hear the scratchiness of his voice. “I just...uhm,” He cleared his throat, “I just wanted to get some water. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already awake. No… no worries.” 

Virgil looked down to his feet. “When did you come back?”

“I think just before ten.”

“‘Kay.”

For an all too long moment, both of them seemed to find interest in every part of the room that wasn’t the other’s eyes. It wasn’t until Roman looked towards the kitchen in his awkwardness did he process what Virgil had come out for. 

“I’ll, um…” He pointed weakly to the kitchen and finally convinced his feet to move, filling up a glass from the sink while making a conscious effort to not look at the dishes or wasted food from the evening before. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop the way his gaze drifted towards the box sitting next to the tap, and judging by Virgil’s sharp inhale, the look hadn’t been subtle. 

He took the glass back to the other, watching him take it with an uncomfortable, “Thanks.”

Virgil downed the glass in one go, his shaking hands almost causing him to spill. He barely had time to take a breath before Roman had zipped the empty glass back onto the counter.

“Do you want more?” He asked, already refilling the glass.

“No, I’m… it’s okay.” 

Roman placed the full glass on the counter quietly and the two were swallowed by heavy silence once again. The clock ticked impossibly loud as they stood, fidgeting, wanting this moment to be over but not wanting to be the one to start it. 

Virgil took a shuddering breath and wrung his hands together.

Roman stared resolutely at a single water drop making its way down the glass.

This was his fault. He’d started it. It seemed only right that he break the tension that almost suffocated him, so even as his mind screamed for him to shut up and every muscle in his body turned to liquid, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Virgil, I-”

“I’m sorry.”

That effectively stopped Roman in his tracks. All night, he’d crafted a collection of apologies, from eloquent monologues to stumbling pleas for forgiveness, but in not one of his countless scenarios had Virgil apologized. 

“I know… I know I can be a lot to handle, I know, I swear. And I was more outgoing when we first met, because I thought I had something to prove and it always exhausted me and I hated it but then we became… I don’t know, official? And closer and… and more comfortable and I didn’t think I had to do that anymore, I didn’t have to keep pushing myself so far!”

“V, stop-”

“The panic attacks and the anxiety and all that shit are a lot for other people and I know that but I didn’t know it was too much for you, I didn’t know you were tired of that and I can be better, I swear, I swear I can go back to how I was in the beginning, just please don’t leave.”

Virgil let out a choked sob and Roman couldn’t stop himself from rushing forward, intent on holding his stupid, stupid boyfriend until he realized this was in no way his fault, only for Virgil to back up before he could do so.

“I’m- I’m not trying to guilt you, I’m sorry, I just, I love you, and I can be better, I can, just give me a chance, please-”

“Virgil, baby, come here.”

This time when he reached forward, Virgil allowed himself to be pulled into his boyfriend’s chest, basically collapsing against him as soon as Roman’s arms tightened around him. The dam broke moments later and Virgil finally let go of his own hands to grab the back of Roman’s shirt with a sense of urgency.

“Please don’t leave, I’m so sorry,” he begged raspily into Roman’s shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” 

Roman hung onto him almost as tightly in return, rocking them back and forth, finally allowing himself to cry. He shoved his face into Virgil’s hair, peppering small kisses and apologies to the crown of his head in between sobs. 

Virgil whined when Roman finally pulled away, but he didn’t go far, cradling his boyfriend’s face in his hands and wiping his tacky cheeks with his thumbs.

“Virgil, I cannot apologize enough for yesterday.”

“What are-” he hiccuped, “What are you talking about? It was my fault.”

“No, no, no no no no no,” Roman whispered, fighting that damn lump in his throat once more. “I had a spectacularly shitty day, and I took it out on you. I was leagues out of line. It wasn’t fair to you and I’m so, so unbelievably sorry.” 

As if the strings were cut on a marionette, all the tenseness dissolved from Virgil’s shoulders and he slumped forward, bumping his head weakly into Roman’s chest. “Can we sit down?”

“Yeah, of course.” Roman clumsily led him to the couch and sat on the adjacent cushion, assuming that if Virgil wanted to talk, he’d want his own space. His assumption was incorrect, however, judging by how Virgil crossed the space almost instantly and buried himself in Roman’s side like a koala. He shifted them both until he was laying on his back, Virgil splayed across him .

“I thought you’d be more upset with me,” He muttered, freeing his hand to run it through Virgil’s hair. His fingers raked through his own tears trapped in the locks and he grimaced.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling right now,” responded Virgil, accompanied by a shuddering breath, “I just need to know that you’re really here. And I need you.”

They were quiet for a moment, watching the sun begin to peek through their window, until Virgil spoke again sardonically.

“If this is a dream, I’m gonna be so pissed.”

Roman snorted despite himself and felt Virgil’s responding half-laugh from where he was tucked against him.  

“I agree. I thought I’d fucked up for good this time.”

A disgruntled meow made Roman crane his neck over the couch, watching Figaro stretch languidly in their bedroom doorway. The cat sidled over to his food bowl and sat pointedly next to it. Feed me. 

“Later, Figaro,” Roman groaned, all too comfortable with Virgil as his blanket. A small part of him was worried that if he moved them at all, the spell would be broken, and they’d lose whatever peace they’d settled into. 

Well, that wouldn’t do at all, not by Figaro’s standards. The cat gave an upset mewl and trotted over to the couch, leaping up with grace and batting Virgil’s legs. It was that pettish action that made Roman realize that Virgil had turned stone still on his lap. Figaro changed his approach to headbutting at his arm in a clear attempt to get pets, but Virgil’s hand stayed still by their sides. 

“What’s going through your head?” Roman murmured. 

“That stuff you said, about me… not contributing to the relationship…” Virgil croaked, and Roman stilled,  “What can I do to-… to fix that? Because I wanna fix it.”

“Baby, no,” Roman whispered, that shame-nausea returning, “I-” He groaned, dropping his head onto the arm of the couch behind him, “I was being an asshole. I didn’t mean that.”

Virgil didn’t budge, still deliberately ignoring Figaro’s futile begging for attention. “Then where did it come from?”

He took a breath deep enough that Virgil rose and fell with his chest, and Roman was struck with the profound urge to pull him closer and never let him go. But that would likely make him feel trapped, and that wasn’t productive. “You remember when I dragged you to that improv show my students put on last year?”

“You introduced me as your boyfriend and we found out the class had placed bets on whether you were gay or not. I don’t know how it wasn’t obvious.”

Roman gasped in mock offense. “Maybe they just were trying not to stereotype!”

“Your phone case is a rainbow-”

“Anyways!” He interrupted, resuming his gentle threading through Virgil’s hair, who snorted but otherwise gave in to the affection. “Remember what happened after?”

“Mmhm.”

It had been a fantastic show, and Roman had been exceedingly proud of his little students, especially since it was his first time ever teaching a class. After the night, when the betting chaos had settled and everyone quickly adopted Virgil as theirs now, they’d pleaded to play a few more improv games before the theatre closed. Seeing as it was their last class, hence the performance in the first place, Roman had acquiesced. But neither of the men had expected for the gang of pre-teens to latch onto Virgil and beg him to play too, despite him having zero theatre experience. 

“Remember what they said?”

“They tried to pack all your lectures into five minutes of information.”

“I don’t lecture, I dazzle.” 

“They thought you were straight.” 

“Only some, and that’s not the point!”

Virgil finally lifted his head, pulling his hands up so he could lay his chin on top of them. He smiled weakly. “Then what is the point?”

“The most important rule of improv is to keep the scene going. No matter what nonsense you have to pull out, just never leave a scene flat.”

There was a quiet moment while the other processed that before, once again, that layer of hurt reappeared on his face. He pushed himself off Roman’s chest in preparation to get up. “So… you’re saying you saw that argument as another scene you had to keep up.”

“No, shit, that came out wrong,” Roman insisted, and Virgil paused suspiciously, “I’m saying, that in a moment of panic, I fell back on bullshitting my way through it! That’s literally what I do for a living!” 

The distrust gave way to resignment and Virgil chewed on his cheek, turning his attention to the window. He sat all the way up on Roman’s legs, leaning back on his shins. “How do I know you’re not bullshitting me right now?” He said. 

“Because,” Roman followed him up, careful not to move his legs and dislodge his boyfriend, “You know I like when the bed is made, and even though you hate making it, you always do when I’m out of the house before you.”

Virgil looked down at his thumb.

“Because you let me choose the music in the car.”

“... you don’t like loud music,” He muttered, picking at the skin around his cuticle.

“You adjust your work schedule to come to every single one of my shows.”

He shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, but you hate working mornings. You let me rant about all my theatre stuff, even if you don’t get any of it.”

“I’m learning.” A faint smile was breaking through.

“You tell me when there’s spinach in my teeth, or my hair is messy, or if I’m acting like an asshole.”

“Well, that’s easy enough.”

Roman reciprocated the smile at that, taking Virgil’s hands in his own to stop the attack at his nail. “I’ve been watching you better yourself for years, even if it’s been really, really hard.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Virgil asked with a small blush, switching his fidgeting tactic to fiddling with Roman’s fingers. 

“Every time you do something that betters yourself, you help us, Virgil.” He leaned forward slowly, giving Virgil the time to move away if he wanted to, and rested their foreheads together. “Yesterday, I fucked up. Badly. You said you were anxious and I still acted like a dick. I kinda thought you’d hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” Virgil whispered, seemingly before he had a chance to process it, because his blush multiplied tenfold. Roman grinned. 

“Aw, is someone feeling sappy?”

“Shut up, jackass,” He retorted, bonking their heads together ever so gently. 

“I’m so sorry, Virgil,” Roman said after their giggles and blushes had faded, “It won’t happen again, I swear.” 

In lieu of answering, Virgil closed the already scant distance between their lips, and despite Roman using all of his self control to not sigh into it, he found himself doing so anyways. All the tension bled out of his shoulders at once as Virgil pulled away, pressing one more peck to the tip of his nose, and then leaning back with a small smile. 

“So… that means we’re good?”

“We’re good.”

“Thank god,” Roman groaned, flopping back and dropping his arm over his eyes dramatically. He heard Virgil’s quiet snicker before he resumed his job as a blanket. Except this time, instead of nuzzling his head into Roman’s neck, he could feel the distinct edge of a chin digging into his sternum.

The hand lifted from his eyes to see Virgil staring at him, that goofy little smirk on his face. 

“What?”

“I love you, idiot.”

Well, now they were wearing matching goofy little smirks. 

“I love you too.” 

That seemed to satiate him, because he gave a little nod and laid his head more comfortably on the other’s chest. He could have left the conversation there, content to just let them lay there in peace until the world fell away- or Figaro grew more insistent on being fed- but Roman just couldn’t banish the one persistent thought in the back of his mind. 

“Were you actually going to propose?” He blurted.

Virgil tensed for a moment, and then gave a resigned sigh. “...Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Roman furrowed his eyebrows, desperately hoping he sounded casual, though his heart was pounding far too loudly to not be heard, “I would have said yes. If you did.”

“Oh?” Virgil lifted his head. “You’re blushing, Princey.” He could hear the smug grin.

“Nooo…” Roman whined. His arm draped once more over his eyes in a weak attempt to hide the redness, but he drew it away only moments later when Virgil didn’t retort. 

The man was staring at him with an odd mix of disappointment and amusement, huffing out a breath as he watched Roman’s eyes.

“This wasn’t how I was planning to propose,” He sighed, “It was supposed to be all perfect, and romantic, and stuff. And the surprise is ruined now.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Roman, continuing before Virgil could cut him off, “If it’s any consolation, I think a proposal in our pajamas, on the couch, would be very us.”

“You’re not in pajamas.”

“I slept in these clothes, they count as pajamas.”

Virgil snickered. Roman counted five breaths as the other’s face melted from a smile to anxiously knit brows, worrying his lip between his teeth as he looked down at him. It took another three for him to speak.

 “So…uh... will you…?”

Roman’s face split into a grin, “Yes, Virgil. Obviously.” 

Virgil’s expression morphed to match his and he swooped down to kiss him again, though they barely could with how much they were smiling. They both devolved into giggles, happy to just stay wrapped in each other’s arms, until Virgil broke away with a gasp.

“Let me grab the ring!”

“Ring can wait,” Roman argued, tightening his grip around his waist to keep him in place, “I want cuddles.”

And so they did.

Taglist:

@max-is-tired

@private-snippers

@joylessnightsky

@marshymoop

@larkiaquail

@noemiescuriosity

@mycatshuman

@cirishere

@vpow

@ray-does-stuff

@sirprplsnail

[theji]

Things Yizhan Made Me Do

It's BXG Day today! 🐢💛

To commemorate the occasion, I thought of making a list of 13 out-of-character things that I've done since falling into the fandom. (OK I'm a bit late I meant to do this sooner, the day is ending soon in a couple of hours).

1. Start a blog

And a public one, no less. I had a blog when I was in my teens but that was private, like a personal diary. My day job already involves writing so off-work I would usually like to indulge in mindless activities. Now, here I am, maintaining a Yizhan blog. I have not even used Tumblr prior to this but I'm enjoying it now, rambling about our fav boys. Writing is not a chore if it's about them.

2. Join a fandom

I joined a boy band fan club once upon a time, some 15 years ago, but I was never as invested in it as I am now with Yizhan. Back then it was just buying some merch, attending their concert/autograph sessions, listening to their songs. Apart from work, dog mum duties, personal relationships, other hobbies like kombucha brewing, most of my free time is now spent on the fandom. My Netflix account is crying. There is just so much to do and catch up on (I'm not complaining). I also enjoy interacting with and learning from other bloggers here. Antis are no fun and some industry news/developments/hate messages are upsetting but ultimately, you curate your own fandom experience. And I choose positivity and rationality.

3. Indulge in RPS

I don't ever 'ship'. What is 'ship'? 😆 I was always a dutiful audience, just enjoying whatever drama series and moving on after that. I started with CQL like most people and I didn't even notice/like GGDD until much later. Didn't even set out to 'ship' anyone but now I'm a self-professed turtle. SZD is SZD, and anyone can see something special between them if you keep an open mind. I wrote about my SZD reasons here previously. That said, GG & DD are individuals, each with their own successful careers. They come first, the ship comes second. That I'm very clear of.

4. Use Chinese apps

Gosh, my phone and tablet are now full of Chinese apps. I used to have only WeChat cos I needed it for work but now I have Weibo, Oasis, Douyin, WeTV, MangoTV, Youku, etc. Some of them are not even available in the app store so I had to find alternative sources to download them. haha..I even have paid membership for some of these apps. And now, browsing Weibo daily becomes a routine. If you wish, you can just get stuck browsing Weibo for a long long time. It's entertaining.

5. Read fan fic

I only started about 6 months ago but now I'm hooked and fics are largely the only thing I read these days, apart from news. But I only read Yizhan or WangXian fics (p.s. calling for fic recs of other pairings!) I know some might have different feelings about fan fics but to me, I really just see them as fiction, with characters (and sometimes traits) bearing similarities to GGDD. Similarly, I separate the platform from the incident so I have no problems going to A03 despite GG's incident. I just enjoy seeing the characters named XZ/WYB having happy endings in many different timelines and universes. While most of the fics I read are explicit (by design), I don't use them as tools to play out certain fantasies or to think of GGDD in a sexual manner. In fact, I really hate fics that have little substance and just go into the explicit parts without plot development. I like those with interesting premises too, like one I read recently where XZ is a serial killer and WYB is a police officer investigating the case but also in love with him. I do have plans to share my list of fav fan fics some time down the road so keep an eye out for it!

6. Willingly read Chinese

Yes, Chinese may be my mother tongue but I don't use it much in daily living unless I have to. I also find it tedious to read Chinese cos the characters are just so squashed together. If I have a choice, I will always pick English. But now, I read so much Chinese from my daily weibo browsing. I even read fan fics in Chinese! Who am I? On the plus side, I think my Chinese comprehension and translation skills improved. I also picked up some internet lingo used by Chinese netizens, which are pretty interesting like doi, 🐮🍺, 🖍. My all-time fav is yyds.

7. Act like a cougar

In real life, I have always maintained that younger men are childish. At least those I have encountered. But look at me now, fangirling over two younger men (I am closer in age to GG, but still..). I even jokingly call them my 'China Boyfriends'. I look at them very respectfully most of the time.

8. Buy merch

Seriously, once you start, you can't stop. At least that was what happened to me, although I'm still quite selective when it comes to supporting their endorsements. I usually go for consumables like food, cosmetics vs collectibles cos I'm more practical. Also, GG says to support their merch within reasonable means so that's what I'm doing. Just buying things that I'm interested to try and not because it has their faces or names slapped on it. In a way, this suits me cos I like trying new brands and stuff anyway.

9. Keeping a Yizhan archive

Photos, weblinks, videos, songs, fan fics list..my phone is full of these things now. I think my Yizhan photo gallery is only second to the folder with my dogs' pictures. But how can you resist when we are blessed with new pics of them almost every week?

10. Camp for livestreams

I'm lucky I live in the same time zone as the boys so I don't have to wake up in the wee hours of the morning just to watch something. But that's the thing, being in the same time zone sometimes make me feel like I HAVE to watch that thing live because, why not? Why wait? Not shy to admit that I once watched a live programme in the middle of work but I made sure I finished what needed to be done. I think so long as we don't let these livestream schedules run our lives, there's no harm in camping for them.

11. Watch c entertainment

I am one of those who used to pass over Chinese productions, simply because it's a Chinese production. Not in a scoffing manner but I'm just genuinely not interested in them nor the celebs. I was more of a US/UK production kind of person, occasionally Korean/Japanese. Now, I'm learning to enjoy them although I just watch those with GGDD in them. No energy to follow other Chinese celebs anyway. The other programme I'm contemplating watching even if it doesn't have them in it is Who's the Murderer (GG was only in one of the cases) cos I like the premise. On the flip side, now my sis and partner keep making fun of me cos to them, all I do now is "watch China shows". That is so not true. Or is it?

12. Write fan mail

I wrote a letter to GG once. A long-ass letter. I hope he read it. That's all I'm gonna say. 🙈 hahahahaha

13. Desire to visit China

China was never on my list of to-visit places. Just wasn't interested. I have been to Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou a few times in the past for work but even then, I never felt the urge to revisit for leisure. Now, I wanna visit GG and DD's home town, visit Chongqing to see the graffiti wall with Bobii Zanbii on it, eat mala hotpot and try out their sauce recipe, attend BXG events, dine at the CQL restaurant... Watching TTXS also made me realise that there are many beautiful places in China with natural landscapes and all that. I used to be clouded by my disdain for the regime and some behaviour of its citizens but now, I recognise that the country is separate from the regime or a smaller group of poorly behaved citizens. China is a beautiful country and I would love to visit some day. I will fly over immediately on my own if someone gives me tix to ADLAD!!

Well, I hope some of these things resonate with you. Feel free to share the OOC things that Yizhan made you do.

Once again, Happy BXG Day! 🐢💛🐆🐇🐷🌶🦁🍑🐶🍍🛹🎋

[miceenscene]

'tis the damn season

frankie/reader | childhood friends to lovers | pre-canon

wc: 1.8k/2.5k

summary: At one point in your lives, you knew Frankie better than anyone else on earth. When did that change?

warnings: none

an: don't let anyone tell you that second person doesn't work from another character's perspective, least of all yourself while editing

Masterpost | ao3

Chapter 2: Who am I Related to?

December 8, 2012 18:57

Hudson’s was a shitty bar just up highway 210 outside of Fort Bragg, the nearest watering hole to the base as the crow flies.

As a result, it served pretty damn near exclusively military personnel. When it changed ownership about four years back, the new management decided to reflect that and so the place looked like the Fourth of July and Top Gun had thrown up on it. Never mind that Fort Bragg was an Army base. Still, they had cheap booze and greasy food that was far better than the commissary, so it was always busy.

Pope had texted the usual suspects a few hours ago that he was heading to Hudson’s that evening, making Frankie immediately ditch his plans of drinking alone for drinking with Pope and whoever else showed up. Most likely just Benny and Ironhead now that Redfly had semi-retired down to Florida. It was a short drive to the bar from the dorms on base, but it was enough to make Frankie groan and press hands to his lower back as he got out of his car and made his way inside.

Pope was sitting at the bar and didn’t look up from texting on his phone as Frankie gingerly eased into the stool next to him.

“Hey, Fish,” Pope said, rereading the email.

“Hey.” At the bartender’s attention, Frankie pointed to Pope’s beer before daring a slight back stretch.

Pope sent his email and then looked over. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just finished PT.”

He chuckled once. “Back still fucked?”

“More tired than fucked anymore,” Frankie managed, shaking his head and wincing. The bartender delivered his beer, and Frankie took a swig. “When did we get old?”

“¿De qué estás hablando ‘nosotros’, viejo?”

Frankie jabbed an elbow and grinned slightly down at his next swig. “Culero.”

“Hey, before everyone gets here–” Pope looked at him, an oddly serious expression on his face for their usual bar. “I found out today you haven’t re-enlisted yet.”

Frankie immediately dropped his gaze to the suddenly very interesting glass in his hand. “Ah, no. No, I haven’t.”

“I’m trying to pull strings to get Benny into our unit full-time. I think he’d fit well with the team. Then Simmons tells me you haven’t signed your new papers yet. So what’s up?”

Frankie glanced over to see Pope still focused on him. “Nothing, nothing. I… I’m still thinking about it.”

He chuckled. “What’s there to think about?”

“We all want out someday, right? If we’re lucky enough to choose when we leave.”

“Yeah, but there’s thinking and thinking.” Pope smacked his shoulder. “What – are you gonna become a real estate agent like Redfly?”

No. Definitely not. Even just the idea of shilling condos was enough to make Frankie’s eyes glaze over. But still–

“Real estate agents make more money than we do.”

Pope made a considering face for a moment then brushed it off. “Yeah, but you’d miss it. You’re like me. We like the rush.”

Frankie nodded slightly. This is why he was still just thinking about it. It wasn’t a small thing to walk away from fourteen years with the Army. Especially since everyone knew the retirement benefits were absolute shit until you hit twenty. But he could already tell, he didn’t have another six years in him. He wasn’t even sure he had another deployment.

“You know the deadline’s New Year’s, right?” Pope said, cutting through his thoughts.

“Yeah, I know. I have some leave I have to take before the year’s out anyway.”

Pope nodded. “Good. Clear your head, get some perspective. See how fucking boring civvy life is, and then come back Jan 2 and join my team.”

Frankie smiled wryly; Pope always could make anything sound easy. “Something like that.”

“You have holiday plans then?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.

Frankie sucked in breath. “I guess I’ll go back to my parents’. My mom’s been wanting me to visit for a while now.”

“How long’s it been?”

“I saw them in DC last summer, but I haven’t been back home… since I joined Delta.”

“Remind me where they’re at.”

“Up north. Little town in the middle of nowhere. Still in the same house I grew up in.” He could picture the wreath on the door, the twinkling lights his dad always strung across the front fence every December. A matching set used to be hung on the fence exactly opposite across the street. Who lived there now, he wondered. Would they put the tree in the front window too?

“Soldier coming home for Christmas. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

“Fuck you,” Frankie replied as the others finally arrived.

--

Frankie got his answer as he ducked out the front door of his parent’s house about a week later. His breath immediately fogged as he sucked in a few calming breaths of night air, the pressure in his head slowly levelling. Out in the still darkness, the noise level coming from the living room was finally manageable. Inside, with all of his cousins and his aunts and uncles and the music and everyone talking over each other and the heater set far too high for the number of people inside– he… he just needed a break.

Seven hours was a decent stint for his first day. He’d be around longer tomorrow. Wading in. That was the key. Because he was now the kind of person that had to treat time with his family like running a marathon. Apparently.

He walked down to the twinkling front fence, making a mental note to shovel the front walk tomorrow, and stopped. The house across the street – your house, as it would forever be in his mind – was completely dark. A small sign posted in the front yard announced some sort of home refurbishment company was going to be arriving soon. No doubt they would come in, strip away wallpaper and old tile and heart to paint it all beige and granite for the quick resell.

He hadn’t had the heart to ask his mother yet how long the house hadn’t belonged to your family. No need for another reminder of how much time had passed, how much he’d missed. He had more than enough already.

The front door opened behind him, casting a temporary warm glow across the dark snow, and his dad stepped out, pipe in hand. He meandered down the front steps to join Frankie at the gate, puffing a few times before speaking.

He shook his head. “It’d break his heart to see it so empty, but I understand why she sold,” he said, looking at the forlorn house with him.

“How long ago?” Frankie asked.

“Few months. Not too long after the funeral.” Dad looked his way for a moment. “I’ll give it ten minutes before I tell your mother you left.”

“I… thanks,” he replied weakly.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back.”

Dad nodded slowly, leaving just the pipe smoke wafting between them for a minute. “Take it slow, no need to rush.”

“Thanks.” He stepped through the gate, fishing in his pocket for his car keys.

“Francisco,” he said, making Frankie stop and look at him. “We’re glad you’re back.”

Frankie just nodded and went to his car. Even though he couldn’t bear another minute in the noisy press of his loved ones, the idea of going back to his lonely hotel room was truly abysmal. So after some finagling with the ignition, he started the engine and headed to the one bar he’d ever been to in his hometown.

--

There were Christmas lights in the window and a dancing Santa on the bar as Frankie walked in. Some sort of forcibly cheery holiday classic played over the speakers tucked between quirky memorabilia that hung over every square inch of wall space. And even though public smoking had been outlawed by the state well over a decade ago, cigarette stench had sunk into the very foundation of the place.

It was nothing like Frankie remembered. But it would do.

Eyes automatically sweeping across the moderately busy room for a Thursday night, he headed for a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender came by. It was just one step up from swill, but comfortably numbing in its mediocrity. He looked across the room again, checking for familiar faces this time and finding none. No surprise there. A decade was a long time, and really he hadn’t been around too much for the years before that too.

There were couples on dates here, friend groups, some sort of girls’ night happening in the corner, a few loners like him hovering at the bar. Most everyone was smiling, talking, laughing so hard their whole bodies shook. A whole world of Normal. And Frankie was a tourist.

Pope was right. He couldn’t go back to this. He couldn’t make it through one whole day with blood relatives anymore. What was he thinking? That he could just settle into a normal life like the last decade of his work was nothing? Get a 9-to-5 and a mortgage and a girl – not that he’d ever had too much luck in that department. Especially when there was one girl that eclipsed all others, and he didn’t even know her phone number any more.

The door opened, making the Santa on the bar dance, and every thought in Frankie’s head immediately stopped. His eyes drew wide as he stared, jaw barely restrained from slapping against his chest. Was it really – course it was, there wasn’t anyone else it could be. A whole century could pass, and he’d still know that face.

It was you.

Live, in the flesh you. Cheeks pinked from the wind, haloed by the street lights outside, wrapped in a truly astonishing number of woolen layers. Not a half-remembered fantasy, but Real and breathing and even more beautiful than his memory had claimed.

He watched you shake a few flurries out of your hair and stomp the excess snow off your boots, shutting the door behind you as you waved to the bartender. Your gaze swung across the bar, completely skimming past him, and landed on the girls’ night in the corner. You smiled. He stared.

You began to head over to the people you were obviously here to meet. On nothing but pure instinct, he immediately got out of his stool and followed you. Falling into step behind you, he stretched a hand forward to hook a few fingers inside your elbow.

You looked back at him, and for a heart-breaking breath there was no recognition in your eyes.

Till he gave you a half-smile and said, “Hey Bo.”

You blinked, mouth dropping open. “Frankie?” you asked.

He nodded.

Your astonishment ballooned so wide it froze your whole face solid for a moment. Then you laughed, out of far more shock than amusement, and gave him a smile all his own. “Oh my god!! You’re here!”

You immediately wrapped him in a hug. And though it took him a moment to return it, for the first time in ten whole years, he was home.

Chapter 3: Not my Homeland Anymore

taglist: @kelenloth ; @darnitdraco ; @gracie7209 ; @616wilsons ; @icanbeyourjedi ; @astroboots ;

[hockeyboysiguess]

driver’s license | b. boeser

a/n: so i was listening to driver’s license on repeat and this happened out of the blue in the last 2 hours. @brockadoodles, hope you like this surprise!

word count: 2,027

wine pairing recommendation: an old favorite, something you love and trust.

warnings: a couple swear words. 

You let out a long breath that lingered in the winter air inhabiting your car and cranked it slowly. The engine turned over a couple of times and you cursed a little under your breath. Your brother was supposed to have driven it while you were away, but he always said he forgot which was just his way of saying he hated your car. But she was Old Faithful for a reason and the engine turned on anyway. You breathed out a sigh of relief that turned into a groan as a familiar sound floated through your car of a voice you knew all too well saying your name softly. You slammed the button on the sound system to switch to the radio as your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t need to hear that today. You weren’t sure you ever needed to hear that CD again. 

You didn’t even consider ejecting it from its permanent home in the otherwise unused CD slot. It lived there in your car that felt like a relic from a past life, a life in which the voice on that CD had a starring role in. That life wasn’t yours anymore, but we all keep tokens from the past, even from our lowest of years, because we can’t bear to part with things that once were our most prized possessions. 

You really should have paid attention to the radio station you had last played, but you didn’t and you paid the price for that decision. 

“Brock Boeser and the Vancouver Canucks were in town tonight and absolutely destroyed the Wild in a 3-0 shutout, with two goals from local Minnesotan Boeser. Remember his draft year? The Wild passed on him and I don’t think he’s ever forgotten it. He really feels like the one that got away for Minnesota, doesn’t he?” 

You switched radio stations, but the damage was already done and tears were clouding your vision. His name, just his name, was enough to do it sitting in this godforsaken car, the car he’d named, the car whose flat tires he’d changed at least five times, the car he’d jumped into the second after you’d gotten your license, the car you had driven aimlessly around his neighborhood once he left. But they had to say the one that got away, didn’t they? The radio show hosts had to be in cahoots with The Universe, who really wanted to pull the old scars over your heart apart with careless word choices and reminders of days that were so infinitely happier than the ones you were living now. 

Some dull pop song was flowing through your speakers now and you tried to focus on the entirely mediocre lyrics that matched the dull beat to center yourself in the mediocrity of it all. The opposite of your pain wasn’t happiness; it was the absolute middle between the two, the void where emotions didn’t inhabit. The problem was Brock Boeser hung over every inch of this car, every inch of this town, every inch of who you used to be. That emotionless void was entirely inaccessible to you in this moment. All you had was the ache in your chest with the terrible option to bury it under artificial joy. The pain you felt when you thought about him bled through your forced smile. It was too real, too raw still years later, the wound still somehow made fresh again by being back here to be covered. 

All you had was your pain, shitty pop music, and a passenger seat that somehow still belonged to Brock and it fucking sucked. 

You put the car in drive and turned right out of your driveway even though all your problems came with you anyway. The chill of the Minnesota winter was slowly dissipating as you drove mindlessly. Except no one ever really drove mindlessly. You made a series of lefts and rights without thinking, which meant your mind was really driving a path it knew so well you didn’t need to think about it as you did it. Minds, even when people thought they were being thoughtless, really weren’t all that random at all. You found yourself in Brock’s old neighborhood and you let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob that shook your aching chest. Of course your mind would bring you here when he was the only thing on it. 

The first time you drove through these suburban streets on your own was so long ago now, but you took the same path you were taking now. This was the first place you’d gone after getting your license, freshy and shiny and new, burning a hole in your wallet and the only place you’d wanted to go was to Brock’s. It hadn’t surprised your mother when you’d pulled up at your house fresh off your driver’s test and hadn’t even reached for the keys. She knew with one look where you wanted to go, and she waved you off as she got out. You’d had the biggest smile on your face as you drove these streets for the first time alone, heading straight for the person who had been the most excited for you to get your license. You had barely remembered to put the car in park before running to hug him and kiss him as words of pride spilled from his lips. He climbed into your passenger seat, where he practically lived that whole summer, where he told you he wanted to be with you forever, forever be in your passenger seat watching you achieve your dreams. 

Forever for Brock Boeser didn’t last past October of that year when he was in North Dakota and you were still here, driving the same goddamn streets you were driving now, driving through memories of your time together in your mind as you rolled through familiar intersections from your past. Years had gone by, and still a piece of Brock lived in a part of your heart like his voice lived on the mixtape still living in the CD slot of your car. You could go weeks, months even, without knowing he was there, especially when you weren’t in town, but something would always remind you of him. You’d see his face in a crowd, hear his name on the radio, drive past a road with the same name as one in his familiar neighborhood and you’d be reminded of him and the love for him that was embedded in your heart. That piece of him was so deep in your heart it couldn’t be surgically removed. There weren’t enough dates to go on, alcohol bottles to find the bottom of, enough love to try to create with other people, that would expel that piece of him you still carried in your heart. You hadn’t found anything that had even come close to him and the love you had for him. So your love for him stayed exactly where he’d left it in your heart and on a poorly burned CD in your car. 

Your friends had to hate you for him now, how you always compared everyone to him. They didn’t understand why you did and honestly, neither did you. You and Brock were young and reckless and stupid, but the love you shared was real and raw and clumsy and fucking beautiful. You knew what a sunset made of blood reds, vibrant oranges, sharp yellows and deep purples looked like; one that was just shades of yellow wouldn’t do. You couldn’t forget what loving him felt like, but as far as you could tell, he had forgotten what loving you was like. Maybe he just never felt about you like you’d felt out him, otherwise, how could he have moved on like he had? He had this whole life, this whole other world, in Vancouver you’d only heard about in poorly remembered stories from people with several degrees of separation between them and him. He sounded like he was doing fucking swell without you and all you could think was that forever apparently left you driving through his streets alone with only memories of him and red lights to keep you company. 

You hesitated before doing it because you knew what it would do, but you were already starting to cry again. All you wanted was to hear his voice again, hear the way it used to sound like when he talked about you sitting in this car, driving through these streets. You switched back to the CD and pressed play. 

“Hey baby, I hope this works? I don’t really know what I’m doing, but you got your license and I’m so proud of you. I can’t always be bugging you in your passenger seat, being the best DJ ever, so I figured I’d make you a little CD so you can have my amazing DJ talents with you wherever and whenever you go. I love you!”

The tears were flowing now. Hearing the way he told you he loved you, the way the words were somehow heard directly in your heart and made it twist in your chest, made you remember why it hadn’t worked out with anyone else. The way Brock told you he loved you was better than how anyone else had ever tried. You walked down sidewalks holding other people’s hands and remembered the way his hand used to feel in yours when you walked down the same sidewalks in this neighborhood you were in now, past the same front yards you were passing now. The way he loved you clouded every moment you had ever tried to deny that he wasn’t your one great love. He was the person you had envisioned your future with, a future that included buying the blue house at the end of the street you were on now and pulling into that very driveway every night, sliding into bed with him, living with him, loving him forever. 

Instead of that ideal forever, you were turning onto his street alone in the waning sunlight with tear-stained cheeks, remembering how much simpler and better everything was with him. The street was practically empty but as you got close to the house you knew as well as your own, your breath hitched in your throat with worry that someone would be there. Of all the empty houses, someone being in the driveway at Brock’s would be your luck. You came over the hill and exhaled upon seeing the driveway empty, before checking your rearview mirror and letting your car slow to a crawl. You could practically see him there, all the times he’d run out that front door and into the passenger seat, off to the lake, to your favorite dinner, to the fourth best but still your favorite park around, to even just driving around these same neighborhood streets when he needed to breathe and forget the weight he carried in that house. 

You slowed to almost a stop in front of his house, letting your car roll forward as you tried to will the memories to sit more comfortably on your mind and in your chest to no avail. You didn’t notice someone appear in the driveway until it was too late, until they had already seen you. Blonde hair peaked out the back of a blue hat that sat backwards on his head. An old beat up North Dakota sweatshirt covered his broad chest, broader now that it had been when he had been yours, gray sweatpants, and sneakers he had thrown on to do some mundane task, probably to get the mail for his dad. There he was, standing in the driveway, looking at you and for a second, you thought he was thinking the same things you were, longing for them in the same way you were. 

He mouthed your name, disbelief written on his face, and started walking toward your car. You shifted it into park, because after all this time, all the pain, all the broken promises of forever, he was still Brock Boeser and you couldn’t leave him hanging when he called your name.

[kozozaki]

Arson is a great pastime - Chapter 2

Y/n was on her way to L'manburg when she saw Tommy running in her direction. "Whoa, slow down Tommy, what's the hurry for?"

"I was, looking for you, actually," he seemed very out of breath. How long had he been running for?

“Why?”

“What? Can’t I just want to see a friend?” He sounded offended.

“Tommy, you always have ulterior motives," he scowled, knowing it was the truth.

“Fine,” Tommy huffed, “Y’know this new guy, Ranboo?”

She tensed for a split second, she was still wary of him. She should trust her older brother, but it was hard with everything he's done in the past, "Yeah."

"Well, y'know how George was nowhere to be seen during the- the war?" He hesitated, it had been over for a while but it was still a sensitive topic. She nodded in understanding, "I found out what he was doing! The motherfucker was building a house, in the middle of a fucking war!"

Tommy was outraged but Y/n couldn't help but laugh, "At least he wasn't sleeping for once!"

He smiled, "You laugh so fucking easily," he paused debating if he should say it or not, "Pussy."

Y/n instantaneously stopped laughing and looked up at the smug boy. She pulled her sword out of its sheath and positioned it so it would be only a few centimeters from his throat.

"Y/n, what are you doing with that sword?" His voice was shaky, obviously afraid. It was her turn to be cocky now, giving a sarcastic shrug,  expertly avoiding his neck. "Okay okay, I'm sorry! Just, please, don't kill me!"

"Hmmm. Okay Tommy!" Tommy looked incredibly confused at the girl's compliance. He quickly realized that it was all an act to scare him. They are only a few people who she wouldn't hesitate to kill given the chance, and he wasn't one of them.

"Okay, so follow me," Y/n did, and was lead behind the portal and to a cozy looking, mushroom themed home, "George was building a home, in the middle of a war."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Of course he would…" She said in a slightly upset monotone voice.

"I have a plan to get back at him! That's why we need Ranboo, so if we get caught we can frame him!"

"Tommy! We can't just frame people! Are you insane?! What are we even gonna do that'll warrant framing someone?!" She panicked, Tommy never thought anything through.

"Calm down woman, so many questions! Just doing some minor robbing," Y/n started walking the other way, " maybe a little, lighting fires, as well." She turned back around, her eyes wide. Of course, he had to mention fire. Y/n was a bit of a pyromaniac, so much so that Dream's nickname for her was firebug.

"Oh, you fucker. I'll help, but only if we don't frame Ranboo. He can help, if he wants. If he's blamed for it first we don't interfere, but if either or both of us get pointed out first, we don't pin it on him, okay?"

Tommy nods, agreeing to her terms. "Okay, let's find this Ranboo first.”

“Oh, I think I saw him in the nether actually!” Y/n ran towards the portal, Tommy accompanying her.

They arrived and saw him right by the nether portal. "H-Hey, Ranboo," Tommy looked at her startled, she was never one to stutter. She looked at him with a look that screamed ‘Did I just do that?’ He nodded slowly, still looking confused.

“Hey, guys.” Ranboo had no idea why they were looking at each other like that.

“Oh, hello, Ranboo. We want you to help us with something.”

“Jeez, Tommy, straight to the point…” Y/n muttered.

“Don’t doubt me Y/n.” He leaned towards her ear, only a couple of inches.

“Sorry, Tommy.” As she finished her sentence, Ranboo pulled out a book and wrote something. She was curious but didn’t want to be rude.

“What do you want my help with, Y/n and Tommy?”

“First off, it’s Tommy and Y/n, not Y/n and Tommy,” Y/n gave him a quick jab in the side with her elbow, he winced but carried on, ignoring her sharp glare, “Also, come with us to my house, we’ll tell you.”

“I don’t know why we’re going to Tommy’s house, but it’s safe, I’m pretty sure.”

“‘I’m pretty sure?’ Why aren’t you completely sure? Should I be concerned?” Ranboo questioned.

“What is with you guys and questions?”

“Nah, there isn’t really any reason to be concerned, just be on edge, who knows what the hell Tommy does in his free time.”

Tommy huffed in annoyance toward Y/n’s teasing. They were at Tommy’s home. Tommy asked Ranboo where he wanted to go, and he chose the lair. “Ranboo, I say we rob George.”

“I- Why would we rob him?” Ranboo asked. The h/c girl averted her eyes, starting to regret agreeing to this, or rather, starting to regret it more than she did a few minutes ago.

“Right, you’re new here. Just simple payback Ranboo. You see, we had a war almost 2 weeks ago, and George didn’t show up, at all. And, earlier today, I found out what he was doing, instead of participating in a war. He was building a goddamn house. Now, we won’t destroy anything, we’ll just steal a few things. Y/n will light a few fires, not his house though, just a few trees that are around, they’re far enough away from each other, we won’t start a forest fire. We just want minor payback.”

“That sounds, better? But, why do you want me to help?”

“Ranboo let’s face it, Y/n is probably sick and tired of me, she needs more friends.”

“That sounds incredibly sad, are you okay?” Y/n appreciated how genuine his concern was.

“Yeah, I’m pretty okay. My brother is kinda a psychopath, and the man that was like a substitute older brother to me was killed. Other than that, I’d say I’m doing a-okay, Ranboo,” she didn’t realize how that sounded until she looked up and saw Ranboo’s slightly perplexed posture. “I-I’m sorry! That sounded really bitter and sarcastic, I’m actually fine, those things are just, kind of hard to comprehend, still,” she talked slower towards the end of her sentence.

Ranboo noticed this, “H-Hey, it’s fine, Y/n, I understand, it didn’t sound as mean as you think, it’s okay.” He smiled, which she could hardly see through his mask, but she knew it was there. She smiled back.

“Okay, let’s go.” She said.

Once they arrived, Y/n strode towards a tall spruce tree. She pulled out her flint and steel and stared at it for a moment in dispute with herself. If she did this, what would happen? Would they actually be caught? What if Dream found out? She rubbed the flint against a rock to see if it still worked. A couple of sparks flew before it set the leaf she was holding with her left hand on fire. She hissed when the burning touched her skin slightly. She hadn’t done this for a while.

“No time like the present,” Y/n whispered to no one but herself. She took a step closer to the tree and with a swift cutting motion, the bark of the tree erupted into hot orange flares. She backed away with a sadistic smirk. She looked around for a brief second, surveying to see if anyone was near, only to see that there was another fire a few meters away from her’s. One that was burning parts of George’s home.

She ran into the house to see what they were doing. She saw crying obsidian on the walls, derogatory messages on signs, but most notably patches of netherrack on the floor, each covered in fire. “What the hell? This is why I was put in charge of the burning!”

“What’re you on about Y/n? I’ve got this!” Tommy sounded so sure of himself, unaware of what he had done.

“Obviously you don’t, George’s house is burning on the outside!” She yelled at him.

Tommy looked at her with wide eyes, she’s only ever been this angry at Dream. There was a long silence, during which she visibly calmed down, the look in her eyes was of lament, her body was visibly shaking, purely from her regret of everything that happened in the past 5 minutes. “Guys we have to go,” Tommy said quickly, exiting the grieved home.

Y/n nodded but didn’t move. Tommy was already over by the jungle trees waiting for them. Ranboo noticed Y/n wasn’t moving. He placed a hand on the top of her back, “C’mon Y/n, if we wait too long to leave they’ll know it was us, okay?”

“Okay, Ranboo,” she said just hardly loud enough for him to hear. They walked through the forest to avoid being seen until they go to Tommy’s base and inside his lair. They stashed everything they stole under the stone flooring.

“We should go talk to Niki and Puffy for an alibi,” Tommy suggested.

“You guys can go do that. Can I stay here for a while, Tommy? I don’t feel so good,” the girl said, her voice trembling.

“You can stay here as long as you like Y/n, don’t worry about it,” Tommy gave her a sad smile to which she returned, taking comfort in the pinkish-purple couch, which was surprisingly warm for being underground.

Tommy walked over to the ladder, Ranboo following him closely. Tommy was already above ground, but Ranboo waited at the bottom of the ladder. “Bye, Y/n. Don’t worry, if anything happens, I know it wasn’t your fault. Just don’t beat yourself up over it, please.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Y/n responded, “Thank you, Ranboo. I-I’ll try not to.”

“I don’t want to come back to you being gone, or having a panic attack. So please, avoid doing that.”

“Hurry up Ranboo!”

She laughed quietly and nodded, “Goodbye, Ranboo.”

“Goodbye, Y/n for real this time.”

She watched as he climbed up the ladder. If he was a spy, she would be more upset than she would’ve been originally. She doubted it though.

----------

alkjfdakslfjkl, this took forever. But I’m actually kind of happy with how it turned out?

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 12

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11  Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2420

Warnings: Slight bit of swearing

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Eyup My loves! Soo How’s your week been? Good I hope, so a bit of news for you all, there’s only  two/three more chapters left till this book is finished and then we’ll be moving onto (Drum roll) The First Avenger! Woooo! I hope you’re all as excited as I am. Anyways without anymore rambling, I give you chapter 12, enjoy!

So I can safely say that the rest of the week passed pretty quickly, with only a few ‘minor’ incidents, one of em being a massive food fight caused by yours truly and Steve getting himself stuck in the basement for 2 hours after seeing, and I quote ‘a possessed girl dressed as undead batman’.

I still haven’t told him that was me….oops

Apart from that it was pretty normal, cut to today where I’ve been blessed with the task of lookin’ after my best girl for Buck’s parents anniversary whilst they go into the city to celebrate, I mean it’s the least I could do for em. Plus, the last time the lads were trusted with lookin’ after Becca, Buck’s parents came home to the entire house covered in flour with Becca laughin’ at em cause they managed to lock themselves in a cupboard. We had to call the fire department to get em outta there.

Anyways, we kicked the boys outta the house so Becca and I could have a girls day in, now don’t get me wrong I absolutely adore this girl and I would practically do anything for her.

“Y/n can we play princesses please?! Mama got some dresses from our cousin we can wear!”

I can literally feel my soul burning right now. I honestly tried to say no, there’s nothing more I hate more that being forced into them things but one look into her bright little eyes made all my resistance die away and so I uttered the words that sealed my doom. “Of course, Becs only if we can have a tea party in em”. So here we are, me in a navy style party dress, lace covered my arms and the hem of the sweetheart neckline resting just on my collarbone,  the knee length satin skirt covered my legs.

Honestly, I wasn’t as bad I thought it were gonna be, I even let my hair outta the classic ponytail it’s always in so Becca could style it a tiny bit, to her credit she did a decent job. My h/c locks fell in small waves across my back, with the longer strands near my face tucked behind my ears and Becs even convinced me to pop on some of her mama’s makeup. Now I ain’t a fool, I know makeup’s pretty expensive and only let her pop on a shimmery light gold eyeshadow and some tinted lip balm, much to her disappointment I confiscated the mascara, I refused to let that death stick near my eyeballs.

Becca looked absolutely adorable, we’d managed to find her dance dress from last year and it suited her down to the ground. Baby pink lace covered her arms up to her wrist, the middle part had little gems dotted here and there with a pink satin ribbon separating the skirt from the top, from the looks of it the skirt was made outta some layered netting that poofed outwards when she span around. Don’t ask me how but I managed to wrap some ribbons in her braids and added a lil tiara on the top of her head and if you’d asked me, she looked like a real-life princess to me.

“So, your highness, what would one prefer to do? Would one like to have tea in the parlour or waltz in the ballroom?” my attempt at the British accent was apparently appalling, judging by the level of giggles coming outs Becca’s mouth. Eventually she calmed down enough to give me an answer “I think a waltz would be most fun lady y/n” she said in an equally bad accent. Slowly a smile spread across my face as I moved over to the record payer, I didn’t even pay attention to which one I put on before I turned back to Becca and offered her my hand, lowering myself into a bow that looked like a squid tryin’ to tap dance. Very elegant I know.  

You’d think after the past few weeks I’d been with the Barnes family, I’da got used to being tackled by the siblings, but alas I am surprised every-time, hence why I’m on the floor with a hyperactive 4 year old sat on top of me. Becca’s giggles filled the entire room, she quickly got off me and started jumping around to the sound of the jumpin’ jive and leaving me to slowly die on the floor, for all of 5 seconds before she yanked my arm outta my socket to get me dancing with her. I swear this girl isn’t even human, one second she’s sweet and delicate the next she’s bulldozing people to the ground and pullin’ em to the next life, I mean she’s 4 she shouldn’t be that strong!

Thank the lord she’s adorable. Quickly the music took over my mind, my feet moving along to the music, Becca was doin’ some twirls around me with the biggest smile on her face, I don’t know what made me do it but I grabbed her gently by the waist and spun us around in time to the music, her little arms reached into the air as we both laughed our heads off. Of course, me being me, I lost my balance and my butt suddenly met the sofa, with Becca landing next to me with a small yelp, it was quiet for all of 2 seconds before we burst out laughin’. Think it took us about 3 minutes before we calmed down, a comfortable silence fell between us, the music slowly faded to a stop as the record reached its end, and we stayed like this for a while before Becca broke the silence.

“Y/n, can you sing like mama? She don’t do it often cause it reminds her of my nana….” My eyes drifted over to Becs, her lil eyes dulled a little when she said it and now they were filled with a small glimmer of hope, and I really didn’t wanna be the reason for that light goin’ out. If I were being completely honest singin’ wasn’t something I ever wanted to do again, during my time with the Црни лабуд, singing was the only thing that made me feel like….well me I guess. It was the only sliver of light in so many years of darkness and once I was free from them I made myself a silent vow that I’d never do it again, that I was a new person. But one look in her little eyes was enough to make me break it. “I ain’t too bad, only know a couple of songs on the piano but I can try if you wanna”

Apparently Becca didn’t need to be told twice, in a flash of pink she was off to the other room, bellowing for me to follow her, I mean it ain’t like I gotta choice in the matter is it ? the sound of something hitting the floor in the room opposite me made me move even quicker (if that were even possible). Becca was stood in front of a oldish looking piano, a small bench was tuned over in front of her, and a white sheet was discarded on the floor next to her as she bounced up and down excitedly, I couldn’t help the smile on my face as I turned the bench over on it’s feet. Not even 2 seconds later Becca clambered up on it and looked at me with a bright smile, I swear she gets cuter every second like how does this happen ? I try it and I end up put away in a mental asylum.

“You got any requests princess ?” my legs carried me across the room and towards the seat, cracking my knuckles together and stretching out my fingers before turning to look at the younger lass, a look of concentration covered her face in response and it took her a few seconds to answer. “Dream a little dream of me ? think that’s what mama calls it” I swear I tried to stop the soft smile, but I really couldn’t help it this time. “sure sweetheart” and with that I hit the opening notes, the feeling of the keys under my fingertips were so familiar it was like no time had passed since I last played, I kept my voice soft and quiet as I sang. I think I was halfway through my second verse when I felt Becca cuddle into my side, she ducked her head under my arm and put her head in my lap, a soft yawn left her mouth as her eyes started to close to the sound of the music. It was at the end of the song that I looked at her again, soft snores escaped her mouth and her hand was grasping gently at the top of my skirt, I felt my heart melt even more that I thought possible, completely unaware of the small audience I’d gathered until a small cough came from behind me.

Aw shit…..

Bucky’s POV

If you’d told me a year ago, that after spending a couple of hours at Coney island with my best mate I’d come home to what must be an angels voice singing my sister to sleep. I’da never of believed ya, think you coulda imagined our confusion when me and Steve heard piano coming from the dining room. Steve shot me a look of pure bewilderment, and I couldn’t blame the guy to be honest, “thought you’d said your mama gave up piano couple a years ago”. I’m guessing my face mirrored his, cause I ain’t the slightest clue either, mama stopped playin’ years ago so who the heck could it be? “yeah she did bud, swore she’d never set her hands on it again…..”. I’m completely and utterly baffled at this point, where’s Y/n when ya need her ? she’d figure this out.

We both took a step towards the closed door, eager to know what the hell was going on when something stopped me, the sweetest sound I’d ever heard in my life sang along with the melody, I coulda sworn it sounded like the lullaby mama sang to us when we were kids. I guess I spent too long listening cause Stevie boy pushed past me and walked in, the sounds were so much clearer and more vibrant it felt like I’d died and gone to heaven right then and there. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I realised just who was creating this beautiful sound, there she was, sat in front of the piano as her fingers danced gracefully across the keys. Her voice, oh god her voice sounded like that of an angel, the weak afternoon sun shone over her hair and made her look even more angelic than humanly possible. I barely even noticed Becca asleep in her lap before Y/n finished her song and the ever-living pain in my ass decided to reveal that we were there. I mean he coulda chosen any other way of revealing our presence but no he had to let out the tiniest little cough, coulda got her back for the eyebrow incident….

Y/n literally went stiff as a board before she turned to look at us, her cheeks were red as a rose and a sheepish smile covered her face, it was only a couple of seconds after that both Steve and I noticed what she was wearing, he burst out laughin at her but me, I for once in my life couldn’t say a damn thing. She looked absolutely breath taking, her hair fell down in soft waves and framed her face, the shade of blue in her dress brought out the small flecks of green in her e/c eyes and brought out her hourglass figure. Her lips were drawn into a natural pout and it was that second it dawned on me she asked me somethin’….shit.  

“whaaaa…….” Nice one Bucky.

Steve, the lil punk, could barely stop himself laughin’, at some point he’d moved to take Becca off Y/n and stood behind y/n with his fist in his mouth to smother his laughter. My best friend ladies and gentlemen. If looks could kill he’d be 10 feet under right now.

“Buck ? I was askin’ if you were okay ?” Y/n’s face showed a tiny bit of confusion and much to my horror amusement, “YeAh I’m okay….” And just at the moment puberty strikes in the form of a voice crack, as if this weren’t embarrassing enough. At this point Steve was barely keeping it together, he had actual tears coming outta his eyes and went bright red in the face tryin’ to stop himsen laughing, in front of me y/n furrowed her eyebrows and did look genuinely concerned for my mental state. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just looked at me before she lifted her hand to my forehead and held it here for a minute, thank god Steve chose to leave the room before this or I’da never heard the end of it.

“You sure you’re okay, feelin’ a bit warm and ya actin weirder than usual Buck” okay quick say something before this gets even more embarrassing, first thing that pops into ya head in 3,2,1…

“Yeah I’m sure, think I ate somethin’ funky down at the pier, makin’ me real gassy”……why am I like this? Normally I can charm any girl of their feet but with y/n, I’ma bumbling mess.  She didn’t say a damn word, she just raised her eyebrows whilst a small smirk covered her face, before she turned and left me to have a very small breakdown underneath the dining table.

Meaning I let out a noise that sounded like a bear stubbing it’s toe in the middle of winter.

I thought my luck couldn’t get any worse, but nooo old lady luck decided today I needed a second helping, cause the second I did that Y/n walked back into the room. Brilliant. I was too busy stumbling over my words to processes what she was doin’, before I knew it she’d walked back to me and stood on her tip toes….then planted a small kiss on my cheek.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered Barnes”

And just like that, she left me with my jaw on the ground and heart beatin’ outta my chest, cause I’m starting to think that she was right. I’m sure as hell coming down with something, and I’m pretty sure it ain’t a regular ol’ bug…..

SOOO, if you got this far hope you enjoyed it, as always any feed back or constructive criticism is welcome, thank so much for reading and hope you have a great day/night/week.

lots of love

Rose xxx

[ssson-of-sparda]

A TRIP TO THE BEACH - PART 2 (DANTE X FEM!READER)

Summary: When Dante shows up, Patty finally learns how things ended between Y/N and him but that's not the kind of ending she likes. (Part 5 of A Tab To Erase) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Tags: Dante is Tony Redgrave / Love / Angst / Blood and Gore / Minor Character Death / Violence

Author’s note: This is the end! I hope you enjoyed this fan fiction as much as I enjoyed writing it. I can't wait to read your thoughts about it. Is it the end you expected? How did you imagine it? Tell me everything. I'm all ears

Patty dared peeping from above the headrest of the couch when the woman opened the door, definitely curious to see the two adults’ reactions when they would finally see each other – though she still feared Dante’s wrath a little.                 But when she finally saw them face-to-face, this couple she had been imagining – and rooting for - for weeks, she didn’t care about her friend’s anger or disappointment - He would definitely thank her later - . They looked so perfect, like coming from an episode of one of those telenovelas she loved so much. Dante was towering Y/N perfectly and she was so pretty. And the lighting.  Gosh “Like a scene from a movie.” She sighed. If only she could read their minds right now.      “There you are, young lady!” Dante declared with a menacing finger as he entered the house            “Hi Dante! What are you doing here?” Patty tried to play innocent but there was something in her voice that couldn’t fool Dante. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I never thought this annoying little brat would dare come here … or steal my stuff.”  “That’s alright, Dante. We were having fun actually. And at least, that girl dared visit me … unlike someone else.” Dante definitely felt that sting and he knew he deserved it. “How long has it been?” “A while.” He said, pretending to be casual even though he had the right amount of years and months in mind. “And this day never happened. Come on, Patty. Let’s go.”             No, no, no. This couldn’t end like that. Patty thought. Not after all this time. “Can I at least finish my tea please?”                  “ I’ll buy you a tea on the way back to Red Grave. Let’s go!” Dante insisted as he came closer to the girl to grab her by the arm and drag her away from Y/N’s place as fast as possible. “Right. Like I’m going to believe you. You never buy me anything, even when you owe me.” Y/N smiled while Dante sighed deeply. “Damn it.”                  “ Plus, you still owe me a trip to the beach.”   “ Alright. I’ll take you to the beach. You happy? Now let’s go.” He tried to pull her from the sofa but the girl resisted.             “ Or … you can let Y/N finish her story.” Patty suggested. Dante glanced at Y/N whom he hadn’t seen go to the kitchen to prepare him a strawberry sundae. “Actually I’d prefer that. Y/N can you continue your story, please?”   “ Well, maybe Dante can tell you so that you can finally erase his tab while I’m making this devil a strawberry sundae. Topped with a cherry and two pink wafers, is that it?”           “I don’t know. You’re the pro.” He had a faint smile at her that Patty noticed and beamed at. About time. “Where did you stop you damn story?”

A TRIP TO THE BEACH - Part 2

Dante was sitting at his desk, eyes closed, a magazine covering his face while he was listening to some good old school metal on the jukebox he had just acquired when the damn machine starting to sizzle and shake. “You gotta be kidding me.” Dante complained and, with a deep sigh, got up from his chair to kick the jukebox like Y/N had once taught him. “Funny how those machines always need a good kick to work.”          When he thought of his beloved girlfriend and realised how late it was, he wondered how the hell she had not arrived yet. It was very dark outside and the clock was striking one. The restaurant should be closed by now and Y/N should have been in his arms at least an hour ago, naked preferably.

Not sure Patty needs to know that.

Worry tied Dante’s stomach in a knot in spite of his sleepy brain screaming at him not to be paranoid. “Relax, Dante. She’s probably helping clean the kitchen or something”, he told himself     And yet, tired of repeating this sentence over and over again in his head, he decided to grab his coat and head to the diner. Better be paranoid and look like fool rather than wait here and worry one more second. Plus, he had waited long enough already and he had made a fool of himself in front of Y/N more than once. So what was one more time, huh?

But when Dante arrived at the restaurant and found it empty and dark, he wished he looked like a paranoid fool. But he was not paranoid and he was not a fool. He was terrified and alert in ways he hadn’t been for years. “Please be okay.” He whispered as he entered the place, feeling once again like a little boy hidden in a cupboard, crying for mommy and his brother. A ghastly feeling for someone who had spent years burying his past deep in his armoured heart as a promise … a dying wish.

Dante climbed the stairs quickly, very quickly and yet not quickly enough to his taste, only to stop and freeze at the sight and smell of warm blood on the wooden floor. But there was not just iron and salt flowing to his nostrils, there was this stench, rotting and disgusting, a stench only his demon sense could pick but that would soon be unbearable for humans too, he was sure of it. The stench of decaying corpses.

The son of Sparda never really liked Y/N’s parents. He actually lost almost all sort of respect for them the second they insulted him and made him understand they would never approve of him or of his relationship with their precious daughter. But when he saw them both, drenched in blood and completely ripped apart, their broken bodies lying on the floor of in their bedroom, he couldn’t help but feel sadness and compassion especially for the woman who was standing in the corner of the room, petrified and in tears, her small feminine frame strongly hold in a demonic grip. A nightmarish vision that had been scaring Dante for too long.               “Took you long enough… Son of Sparda.” The demon said with a calm and yet menacing cavernous voice that would make anyone tremble in fear. But that wasn’t the sound of his voice that made Dante afraid – because yes he was afraid –

You? Afraid? Rrr, shut up!

It was the sight of the woman he loved so close to that monster’s sharp claws.           The half-demon squinted at the devil before him, at his cloaked silhouette hidden in the darkness, trying to hide his fear, turning it into a nonchalant and over-confident mask he knew how to wear better than anything else (except his red leather jacket) but that somehow didn’t look as convincing as usual. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong guy, pal. Sparda may have a son. But that's not me.”          “Tony, what’s going on?” Y/N’s voice was shaking just like the rest of her body.            “It’s alright, baby. I’ll get you out of here. I promise.” He had too.        “You can try and pretend to be someone else. But I know who you are. Dante, Son of Sparda. And soon, your blood will flow for what your father did to my master.” Usually, that same old routine would have made Dante scoff and slice that creature in two for he was used to demons coming at him with pathetic threats and silly villain monologues. But today, what was at stake was simply way too important for impulsiveness.           “And who would that master be?”         “The one true king of the underworld. Mundus.”

Dante had heard that name before, long ago, in something that was now a long-time memory. Mundus was the villain of his favourite bedtime story, the one his father would always tell him and Vergil before going to sleep, when they were nothing but kids tucked in their beds.            Mundus. He remembered how that name would make him fidget and jump in anticipation and how his big brother in the bed under his would always kick him through the mattress to make him stop wriggling like a hyperactive goldfish out of water.            Mundus, the so-called Prince of Darkness Sparda had cast away and locked in the underworld a long long time ago to free the human world from his diabolical tyranny. Never thought he would have ever heard about him in another context though.

“Oh. That dude. Thought he would be dead by now… like you soon will be”    “Cocky, just like that filthy betrayer Sparda.” The demon smiled, showing short pointy black fangs that yet shone in the dim moonlight. “And in love with a human, just like he was. It would be a shame …” He grabbed a strand of Y/N’s (colour) hair to toy with it with a vicious smirk, making the young woman shiver even more. “… if something were to happen to her the same way something happened to your slut mother” Dante felt his jaw clench tight and his nails pierce the flesh of his palms. The rage, it was slowly yet surely eating at him.               “Don’t you dare talk about my mother! And don’t you dare lay even just a finger on Y/N!” Dante growled, not realising he had just given his identity up. But the black demon did and with a satisfied smile, he cupped Y/N’s face in between his vile sharp claws to burry his long nose in Dante lover’s soft hair and smell her human perfume that was oh so exquisite to him. An intended provocation and an effective one.      “How chivalrous! How noble! I’m sure your father would have said the same thing…” Dante frowned and clenched his fists even tighter, trying to stay put and in control, trying desperately to resist the powerful will to pounce on that demon and impale him on his sword and spill his guts on the floor. He knew he had too because he knew that the reaction he thought so much about was exactly what that monster wanted.           He was trying to infuriate him, to make him reckless and stop thinking rationally so that he would have him at a possible advantage when he let his rage have the best of him. Provocation at its finest. A strategy Dante knew all about. “… had he been here when I and my fellow demons tore her apart.” Yes, he knew all about it and yet... “Mundus says farewell, hybrid filth.” He suddenly stopped caring about what he knew.

Dante jumped and with a scream, unsheathed his sword to slash the arm that was holding Y/N. An impulsive move, a mistake he realised only too late, when the demon pierced the soft neck of the one he loved the most with his sharp claws in an attempt to protect himself from the demonic blade.       Everything went so quick to Y/N and yet so slow to Dante. She didn’t scream. She didn’t even have time to realise what was going on or to process the sudden pain. She only understood something was wrong when her body hit the floor and she saw Dante’s icy blue eyes widen and stare at her in horror. Then she felt the blood, her blood she was quite certain of it, running along her pale skin covering it in shades of dark red.                   Dante screamed like never before, like no human could, so loud the walls trembled and the demon slightly bowed down in fear. He screamed with an anger, a rage he didn’t know he was capable of, something so deep and passionate he never thought was in him. Something fiery … something … demonic. It felt like his skin was burning, like there was a ravaging fire spreading, growing in his body, menacing to burst, to combust him. And it almost did. It almost did but it stopped just when Rebellion sliced the head of the demon open, spilling his brains and his blood on the walls behind him.   Then, there was a relief that all this was over. The fight. The fire. The fear…  No not the fear!

“Y/N” Dante ran to her and quickly pressed her body against his. His hand found her neck to apply pressure on her bloody wound. She was barely conscious but she was still with him. “I’m so sorry, baby. Hold on, I got you.” He kissed her forehead. It was so cold against his lips. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

Dante stayed by her side for what seemed hours to him, holding her tight against him, trying to keep the weakening life in her safe, when finally blue and red lights began to flicker in the bedroom. What happened next was so blurry. All he could make out were a group of men dragging Y/N from his embrace, saying they would take care of her and that he had to let her go. He didn’t know how he did it but he eventually obeyed those men, in spite of his arms trying to reach for her.         He followed them- followed Y/N- to the crowded street where the nearby residents were crammed into, whispering and trying to take a peep at what was going on in this usual very quiet neighbourhood. But he didn’t care about them or their judgmental looks. All he cared about was Y/N being taken away in an ambulance.   The paramedics didn’t let him in. And in spite of how much he wanted to fight their decision, Dante chose not to. He couldn’t delay them. Y/N’s life depended on time and too much had been wasted already.

But he found her again, like he would always find her, and he spent days waiting for her to wake up, waiting for her beautiful (colour) eyes to open again, for her sweet voice to say she was alright, his hand holding hers in an eternal grip that only her awakening could break, days in which he had to think about what happened, about what could have happened and what will happen. So many hypothesis, each one worse than the last.       And when Y/N finally awoke and, with a soft smile that bear no grudges or hatred, said. “Hey handsome.” He did what he thought he should have done days ago. “We need to end this.”

***

Patty’s eyes were glowing with tears as she was staring at Dante without blinking. This was certainly the saddest love story she had ever heard in her entire life. Even Bolero in Spring had never made her feel so much. “You can’t do that!” She declared as if in denial, as if she could change the past. “The story can’t end like this!”    “But it is not a story, Patty. This is not some television show made to satisfy a bunch of hopeless romantic little girls. It’s real life. And real life is tough and …” Dante looked at Y/N, at her sad eyes and at the scar she was trying to conceal under a red silk scarf. “What’s done cannot be undone.” “But you loved each other!” The girl was almost furious, shaking her head nervously.              “Patty.” Dante said calmly.       “And you still love each other, I’m sure of it. I can tell by the way you both tell your story.”   “Patty.” Dante repeated with insistence this time.     “I won’t have this ending! No way!” She shouted with a deep frown.                  “It has already ended!” Dante screamed and Patty froze. He had never screamed at her, never in his entire life, even in times when she was incredibly annoying. He had never screamed at her. “It has ended. And neither you nor anyone can change it, okay? If it doesn’t please you, you can leave, wait in the car and go back to your mushy love series.”

There was a pregnant silence in which Patty stared at Dante with a disappointment he had never witnessed. “Y/N was right. You know how to fight demons. But you don’t know how to fight YOUR demons.” And she got up and left the house to do exactly what her beloved friend had told her, meaning wait in the car to go back to mushy love stories, leaving Dante and Y/N alone in the living room with nothing else but a heavy discomfort.

“I’m sorry for making a scene.”                “ Well, you always had a flair for the dramatic.” They both had a conspiratorial smile similar to the ones they used to share when they were younger except it was fainter, sadder. “ She read the letter, the one you wrote me” Dante said staring at his hands in discomfort. He couldn’t look at Y/N, not with all the memories rushing in his head.                  “ I figured.” But she looked at him, excepting deep down he would say something, anything about what happened.”Never thought you would have kept it though.”               “ Why not?”       “ You never replied.” And there it was, that disappointment Dante well deserved.   “I did reply. I just never sent the letter.” Y/N's eyes slightly widened at this unexpected confession. What did he mean by that?              “Huh, words of advice. After writing a letter to someone, you need to mail it.” She declared sarcastically, not really knowing how she managed to crack such a joke. Was it a joke? Maybe, because Dante laughed a bit.       “ I had no money to buy a stamp.” The girl scoffed. She knew the man before her all to well to know that this was “Bullshit.” But she had missed it, missed him.  “What did it say?”          “ Same crap I told you at the hospital. How much I was sorry and … You know what? … There.” He opened his red coat to take a crumpled letter from his inside pocket. It was unsealed, stamped –obviously- and her name and address were written on it.                “ I hope Devil May Cry will never provide delivery service cause this has clearly arrived way too late.” However she took it in her hands, gathering all her inner strength not to tremble as she could feel all those emotions shaking inside of her.  “ Years too late. You can say it.” Dante smiled as he watched the letter he had kept to himself for so many years finally reaching its long-awaited recipient.  “I don’t expect you to read it … or open it. You can actually turn it into a paper plane or shove it down my throat if you want. I won’t fight you.” Of course he had to joke, to play it cool but she didn’t mind. She knew it was just one of his defence mechanism and she couldn’t blame him for it.      “ So why giving it to me?” Dante shrugged, refusing to admit he did want her to read what his young 19 years old self had to say, what he still had to say. “You can’t stop with the devil-may-care for a second and admit what you truly want, what you truly feel, can you?”     “ Fight my demons, huh?” He quoted her and she nodded. “Yes. Would that be so complicated for a ‘menacing devil hunter’ like yourself?” It was her turn to quote him but that quote made him melancholically happy.                   “ I guess that’s a challenge I still can not face.”              “ Or don’t want to” There was a new pause and as they finally looked at each other’s eyes, they knew they would not fix what had been broken years ago today. He was not ready. Not yet anyway. And that was okay. Y/N was patient. She could wait. She could keep waiting.     “Goodbye Y/N” Especially when this time a kiss on her forehead and a hand on her cheek felt more hopeful than ever. “Goodbye, Dante.”

And she watched him leave, again, but certain that someday, one day he would come back to her as he always would. After all, he promised.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Mine

13. Agust D

Genre: Min Yoongi x oc

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4.2k

I have a surprise for you guys in this chapter!!! 😊😊 Aaaaand we’re all set up and ready to go for the finale! 

2 Months Later

Anacortes, Washington, USA

The distant sound of a bell pulls me back to reality, and I turn to face the wind. Waves are pushing their way onto the shore, the choppy water fighting for my attention.

I watch as the ferry grows ever closer before putting my earbuds into my ears to answer my incoming phone call.

“Funny, I was just thinking about you,” I smile as I close my eyes.

“Really? What a coincidence. What are you up to right now?”

“Just about to board the ferry. You?”

“I’m going to head to bed soon.”

“Wow, so early. You’ve become so disciplined!”

Yoongi’s breathy laugh fills my ears and I can almost picture him rolling his eyes if I close my eyes tightly enough. “I’m assuming you’re not available to facetime?”

Frowning, I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No, too many people around. You’ll just have to deal with the beautiful sound of my voice.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

It’s been two months since I last saw Yoongi outside of Bong-cha’s apartment. The chill that comes with currently residing in the northwestern United States is almost the same as I felt that morning when we said goodbye.

‘Young Rising’ came out just over a month ago, and it’s received a lot of success. Thankfully it was just enough to help me land a role that is already receiving speculation for possibly being a critically acclaimed role.

It wasn’t the one I originally wanted, that role went to Bryce Dallas Howard. I suppose I’ll have to try for a 1700’s romance some other time. This time around I get to play the daughter of one of the first lighthouse keepers in the United States and all the crazy events that unfold. It’s fun, and getting to take the ferry out to the San Juan islands here in the state of Washington is an added bonus.

My favorite part of the role? Every morning I get to sit here and watch the ocean and talk to Yoongi.

“Rude, but I’m not surprised. Isn’t it barely midnight there? You really are heading off to bed early.”

“Yeah, it’s midnight. What can I say? It was a long day and I’m exhausted.”

Now that I listen closer, I notice the hint of tiredness in his tone. “Why? What happened today?”

Yoongi sighs as I get up to board the ferry. Another great thing about being here in Washington? It’s cold and rainy enough that nobody bats an eye at me. I’m decked out in my raincoat and my beanie is pulled down low. During this time of year there aren’t many tourists either, so most mornings it’s just the ferryman and I. Today there are a couple of small groups milling about, though.

All the better. It gives me an excuse to not facetime Yoongi and have him laugh at my bundled up state. Which, for the record, he finds hilarious.

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Promise.”

There’s a second hesitation before he speaks up again. “I miss you.”

It’s a blow straight to the heart, and I cling to the railing so as to not fall overboard. We try not to dwell on our current state too much, things are complicated enough. Still, it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one struggling with this.

“Why would I laugh at that?”

“I don’t know, you like making fun of me and how weirdly sentimental I can get-”

“Soft. That’s the word you’re looking for.”

“...right. How could I forget.”

“I miss you too, Yoongs. A lot.”

It’s silent on the other end of the phone for a little while, so I just lean up against the railing and watch as the ferry begins to edge out to sea. Once again I close my eyes against the crashing waves and try to convince myself that I’m sitting in the genius lab or making a mess of things in the kitchen.

How could a span of less than a week affect me so much? It’s a question that I’ve come back to many times over the past couple of weeks. Occasionally I get a moment of understanding. Sometimes that understanding comes late at night as I cuddle up in bed, propping my phone up to chat with Yoongi as he sits at his desk in the genius lab and tells me about what he’s working on.

Just watching him mumble incoherent things under his breath and seeing his eyes flit back to his phone to check that I’m still there makes me realize that there’s so much going on here. So much going on whilst being so far apart.

At least the media frenzy has died down a bit. Sure, there’s still a lot of theories tumbling around, but the mobs of heartbroken fans seems to have lessened significantly.

“Are you sure that’s everything, though? What else have you got going on?”

“What, me missing you is not enough?”

I chuckle into the phone. “Nope.”

“Fine, you caught me. We’re finishing up the final touches on the mixtape and I always just get really stressed before a release, you know? Like you did the night before ‘Young Rising’ premiered?”

Shuddering at the memory I groan. “Ugh, don’t remind me. But what is it exactly about this mixtape that has you so nervous? I mean, this isn’t the first time you’ve released one. Maybe whatever helped you de-stress last time will help you this time around, too.”

There’s a long pause but I wait patiently for him to speak. The island is just coming into view now, I’ve probably got about fifteen more minutes before I’m officially on the clock and have to hang up.

I hate that part.

“I’m not so sure...it’s different this time around.”

I frown. “What’s so different? You’re even more loved?”

A wry laugh on his part. “No, not that. It’s just...this mixtape, these songs...they’re even more personal this time around. Sure, I’ve talked about some pretty personal things on my previous mixtapes, but this time around the entire mixtape is personal.”

That’s news to me. Ever since Yoongi changed the concept of the album he’s kept everything under lock and key. He told me he kept most of the tracks, ‘My First Mistake’ obviously being one of them. Other than that, though, I have no idea what to expect.

“Yoongs...I think that will make this mixtape your best one yet. Really. People will be able to relate to it, and they’ll love you even more for it. Just, get some sleep tonight. You’ve worked your hardest - don’t try to brush it all off, you’ve nearly worked yourself to the ground over this mixtape! - and that’s all you can do. I’m absolutely positive it’ll be great.”

“Thanks, Car. So what scenes are you doing today?”

We get lost in the conversation for the remainder of the ferry ride before suddenly the ferry is coming to a stop. I hurry off the boat, the tell-tale change of tone tipping Yoongi off to what I need to do.

“Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, sounds great. Get some sleep!”

Yoongi chuckles. “Will do. Have a great day.”

I sign off the phone and roll my shoulders. One of the producers, Melissa, is waiting for me in a little golf cart.

“Hey Cara, ready for the day?”

Grinning at her, I jump into the passenger seat. “Definitely.”

🌙

It’s the middle of the night when I’m awoken from my slumber, and I groan as I contemplate just turning my phone off. It was a late night, I’ve probably only been asleep for a couple of hours at this point.

When I see who’s calling, though, I pick up.

“Bong-cha?” I ask blearily. “What’s up?”

“Have you listened to it yet?!”

I hiss as Bong-cha screams into my ear. “What are you talking about? Did you and Jimin finally kiss or something?”

“No, you idiot. Yoongi’s mixtape!”

My eyes widen and suddenly I’m completely awake. “His mixtape? I-it’s out? When?”

“It just dropped like an hour ago! Didn’t he tell you? I mean, I get that he wanted to surprise everybody, but I thought he’d at least tell you.”

I’m already on my music app, searching for Agust D. When I finally hit search, I scream involuntarily.

“That little punk! He didn’t even tell me!”

“Wait, Cara!”

“What?”

“Just, listen to it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, weirdo.”

“No, but really listen to it. I mean, it’s about you.”

My chest stops rising as my air gets cut off. “What do you mean it’s about me? We already knew about ‘My First Mistake’-”

“No, not just that track. I mean it’s all about you. Just look at the name of it! Isn’t it a little weird that he didn’t stick to his m.o. and title it ‘D-3’?”

I was in such a rush to click on his profile that I didn’t even bother to look at the title. When I do, I come gasping up for air.

Mine.

Written there in big, bold letters is the word mine.

“That doesn’t mean any-”

“Nuh-uh, you listen to the mixtape and then we’ll hash out the details. Got it?”

“Fine. Call you in the morning?”

“Isn’t it already morning for you?”

“Yeah, 4!”

“Right. Yeah, call me later.”

Clicking off the call, I take a deep breath to steel myself before clicking on the album. 8 tracks stare back up at me, most of them I recognize from that first night in the genius lab. The leading track is ‘My First Mistake’, which makes me smile. When my eyes trail down to the final song, I can’t help but click on it.

My Last Mistake. Turning the volume up, I sit back against my headboard and listen. And then, note by note, I fall under his spell.

Yoongi’s heartbroken voice talks about details of his life, how he goes by many names. The world knows him by Suga. His true fans know his other name, August D. Min Yoongi controls the strings of those two personas. A heavy beat pounds out the words alongside him.

Then the music slows, becomes calmer. Clearer.

In the most tormented voice he can manage, Yoongi talks about a girl that called him Yoongs. He talks about a girl driving under the stars that called him Yoongs and how in that moment, he decided that none of the other names mattered anymore, just so long as he could hear her say it one more time.

As the song falls from its crescendo, Yoongi brings up his last mistake.

“What’s your last mistake, Yoongs?” I whisper, hoping for an answer.

He answers it a moment later, the same melody from ‘My First Mistake’ being played out, only this time it’s on the guitar rather than the piano.

He’s reminded of his last mistake every time a plane flies overhead and he can’t run fast enough to catch it.

🌙

The entire mixtape is hauntingly beautiful.

As I finish listening to “Naksan”, a song set Naksan park, and what I assume to be the gazebo that overlooked Seoul, I lean my head back and sigh.

There is so much we don’t say. There is so much that Yoongi has never said, but now I’m beginning to realize why he was so nervous about this mixtape.

Here, crammed into these eight songs that talk about everything from t-shirts to being oceans apart, Yoongi says everything he never could before. It’s obvious, painfully so. He didn’t try to cover anything up.

I am so dead.

Yet, I can’t find it in myself to care. The only thing I wish I could do right now is show up at his apartment and sit down on his couch. Maybe eat some food, and watch as he fumbles for an explanation to this mixtape that is no longer a mixtape but more a cry out into the void.

And of course, don’t even get me started on the title track. The song that the album is named after, “Mine”.

In it Yoongi recalls his dreams of having a big car and house, and how he gets to call all those things his now. He has it all, essentially. And yet, the one thing he wants more than anything is far from him.

‘I have it all, I hear them say it. I have it all, they chant over again. When will they realize that it means nothing to me, if I can’t call you mine?’

Dragging myself to check Twitter, I see what the number one trending topic is right now.

#Mine

And in second place?

#CaraisMine

Somehow, I can never quite make it to first place. How disappointing.

Groaning as I realize that the sun is about to come up, I linger over Yoongi’s contact information.

One call. That’s all it would take. A single phone call, and maybe everything would change. But what would I even say?

Hi, it’s the girl that’s ridiculously in love with you. Do you feel the same way? Great! Let’s end our careers and live in Fiji!

As enticing as that sounds as I watch the rain pouring down, I know that it’s unrealistic. I’m here, caught up in some strange, long-distance relationship that’s technically not a relationship.

And Yoongi’s there, hopefully receiving all the praise he deserves for coming out with yet another great mixtape.

So I just let the dim light from my phone fade out before slipping back down under the covers. I know what Yoong is thinking now.

Ball’s in my court. But how on earth do I return it?

🌙

Seoul, South Korea

“And she still hasn’t said anything about it?”

Yoongi knows that Taehyung is trying really hard to understand his current predicament, but if he asks him if he’s heard from Cara one more time, he’s going to lose his mind.

“No.”

“Have you reached out to her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Sighing, Yoongi rubs his hands over his face. “First, because it’s only 8 o’clock in the morning over there. Second, I basically just told the world about my feelings for her, I think I can give her a little space to breathe before jumping on her.”

Taehyung plops down beside Yoongi, his eyes wide. “You’re really stressed, aren’t you?”

Somehow the question makes Yoongi laugh. “You think?” He feels restless; he has for the past two months. He thought releasing the mixtape would diminish that feeling, but instead it’s been heightened to the point that he can’t hardly sit still anymore.

Which is saying a lot, because Yoongi loves sitting still.

“Hyung?”

“Hm.”

“I think you should borrow my car and go for a drive or something. Just get out for a while. You’ve been cooped up in this studio for weeks; it’s messing with your head.”

Sometimes Yoongi forgets how much everyone cares about him. It’s in times like these that he remembers. Without saying much else he takes Taehyung’s keys that he extends to him and heads out.

When he gets into the car, he doesn’t know where he’s going. His mind is filled with worry and doubts and worst of all, regret. Was he too blind in his feelings that he overlooked Cara’s? After all, maybe she’s listening to the mixtape right this very moment and wondering why he would write something like this.

Maybe she hasn’t called him yet because she’s trying to come up with a way to let him down easy.

Yoongi drives and drives, turning up the music so as to drown out the thoughts in his head. He drives on and on, clueless to the fact that it’s the middle of the night and he should really be heading back to the apartment now.

When he parks before a lit path that leads up, Yoongi realizes that his body knew this entire time where he was going.

Without questioning it further, he hops out of the car and shrugs on his coat and mask. It’s late enough that hopefully most people will have had the sense to go home.

As Yoongi climbs up the path he only passes a couple of people; a couple that are too tangled up in each other’s embrace to even notice him. The path continues ever upward until he’s panting, but he’s grateful for the burn in his lungs. For a brief moment, his mind isn’t consumed by the what ifs of his current situation.

As Yoongi clears the final steps, his gaze immediately turns to the gazebo just down a ways. It’s the same as before, the night a similar one to that night when he watched Cara from afar before mustering up the courage to go talk to her.

Tonight there is one major difference. As Yoongi edges closer, there’s a tightness in his chest. There’s some part of him that half-expects Cara to appear, leaning up against one of the pillars and looking out at the city.

As Yoongi steps into the gazebo, that wish vanishes into thin air.

It’s empty.

Cara is not here. Yoongi is, though. Which has proved to be the most miserable thing in the world over the past two months. Cara is gone, but somehow Yoongi is still here and seeing her everywhere he goes.

The songwriting and production process is enough to make anyone go a little insane. Usually, once the project is finished, Yoongi feels like he can finally breathe again. He’s able to enjoy the fruits of his labors.

Not tonight.

At first he laughed at himself, back when he’d first started learning about Cara from Bong-cha and curiosity overcame him. He thought it was silly of him to want to learn everything about her and what it was that made her tick. There was just something about her that made Yoongi dive right in.

Of course, the boys had noticed. Even Bong-cha, who hadn’t known him for very long, had noticed the difference Cara had made. That was before they even met. Before any of this had even started.

Yoongi knows his place. His place as one of the most famous stars in the world, his place in the group’s dynamic, his place among his family. His place among ARMY. Yet, when he met Cara, it was like the ground disappeared under his feet and he’s been falling ever since.

He used to come to Naksan park often and just think. He’s not one for hiking around outdoors, but something about the view and the beautiful architecture of the gazebo and old city walls that line the path have helped him think.

He used to stand where Cara stood, and think about everything. However there was one topic that he tried to avoid at all costs: love. It wasn’t because he didn’t believe in love or didn't want it; if he’s learned anything from his time with ARMY he’s learned about love. But there was always this giant, impenetrable wall that stood between him and love.

Yoongi knows his place, and because of that clear role he has also always known that him falling in love with someone other than his fans was off the table.

That night when he came to meet Cara, he was coming to tell her just that. He was coming to tell her that he was a horrible human being that was dangerously close to breaking that unspoken rule, and he needed to mark a clear line in the sand. Friends, he had thought We can still be friends.

Yet, as he’d watched Cara head to the same spot; the same pillar he had frequented so many times, his words had gotten caught in his throat. She’d looked out over the city and Yoongi would have given anything to know what she was thinking.

Instead, he’d just asked for what so many people had been unable to give him throughout his career.

Just someone to sit in silence with.

No demands, no questions, just be together.

And as Yoongi sat swimming in his feelings, Cara’s head resting on his shoulder, he learned something about himself.

Yoongi had avoided the topic of love for so long not because he didn’t think it was appropriate for his lifestyle, but because he’d known deep down that the chances of him finding someone he was willing give everything up for were nearly nonexistent.

Cara’s hand was wrapped up in his, sharing his pocket. Quiet breathing, feeling warm despite the oppressing chill. No demanding answers, just sitting together.

He had realized that while he was looking for someone to convince him to leave everything behind, he was sitting beside someone that already understood. Someone that would never tell him to abandon it all just to be together.

He was sitting beside someone that might just be open to the possibility of being together, and would be open to the chaos that would ensue. There was no need to change everything to be together, but there would be the need to fight for that privilege of calling Cara his.

As Yoongi now steps into the gazebo and rests on the bench opposite from where they had sat, he remembers when it all started.

The night after he’d watched ‘Under Nine’, he’d felt restless and wandered up here. It was the first time in over a year that he’d come here. He knew why he didn’t bother to anymore; he didn’t feel inspired anymore when he looked out over the city.

Yoongi had seen the world, and he’d fallen out of love with it.

It was a horrible, lying, cheating thing. He’d seen too much suffering, fought so hard against it just to see evil rise up again and again.

Yet when he came up here that night after watching Cara on screen and seeing that humanity can be beautiful even in all its flaws, something amazing had happened.  

He looked out over the city, and a little spark had jumped up in his heart. That night, Yoongi looked out over the world, and began to fall in love again.

Yoongi has never been very confrontational. Some may think he is simply due to his status as a rapper, but that’s never been the case. However, he is known for his undeniable work ethic. For his unending effort to obtain what he thinks he deserves.

When Yoongi placed a letter into the mail a few days ago, he was reminded of why he was going to do everything in his power to make this work.

When he looked at Cara, he thought that she deserved a chance at love, too.

Giving one last look out at the city, Yoongi gets up and stretches. There are a lot of uncertainties swirling about right now, but there is one thing he is completely certain of.

He is going to do everything in his power to give him and Cara a chance.

🌙

Anacortes, Washington, USA

I have mail.

It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve gotten mail, but I can’t fight the feeling of dread as I wonder if the awkward pleas from fans are about to start up again. There’s a single envelope addressed to me sitting on the ground in front of my hotel door, which I scoop up before heading back inside.

No work today; we’ll be taking a two week break to wait out the rainy season before picking things back up again. I’m grateful for the small reprieve, I would much rather stay cuddled up in my blankets today while I try to wrap my mind around everything.

I haven’t reached out to Yoongi yet. Granted, it’s only 10 am, but I still feel a little guilty. I just want to make sure I have my thoughts in order before I freak out, you know? After all, there’s still a chance the mixtape being about me is just a coincidence...right?

Stacey, my PR rep, just got off the phone with me. Nobody really knows where I am right now, which is good. There are perks to being holed up in a small town in the northwestern United States.

She gave me an earful on how many calls she’s received over the course of the last few hours from various magazines and gossip collectors. When she asked me if there was a statement she would like for me to relay, I blanked. Stacey just laughed and said she’d come up with some vague for the time being.

My attention returns to the item in my hand. Cautiously opening up the letter, my brows furrow as I take out a small slip of paper and a piece of thick cardstock.

Cara,

Hopefully this gets to you when it’s supposed to. I thought of just sending you an email but that seemed to detract from what I was going for. You understand, don’t you? When you told me about your break from work, I managed to pull some strings. Follow the directions on the back of this letter, I’ll be waiting for you. And no, I can’t do this over the phone. It’s an ‘in-person’ kind of thing.

Yours,

Yoongs

Flipping the letter over I frown when the directions are in French. Then, scrambling for the cardstock, my mouth drops open as I see just what Yoongi is talking about.

One boarding ticket for tomorrow morning, leaving at 10am.

Destination?

Paris.

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[janeyseymour]

Dangerous Desires- pt 7

chapter 1. chapter 2. chapter 3. chapter 4. chapter 5. chapter 6.

Kat gets into some trouble and school, and Jane has to take care of the aftermath.

Katherine Howard liked to blend in with the walls at school. Considering she had already been through 14 schools since beginning kindergarten at age five and she was only sixteen, it was just easier that way- it’s not like she made any friends she would keep in touch with anyway.

But after the last house, and switching into a school that was known for being rather snobbish, to say the teen had anxiety about going to this school was an understatement.

It had been a few weeks since she started living with Jane, and so far she had just blended in for the first week in this school. That’s how she liked it. Well, until this day. It started the second she walked into the homeroom. She had been in this area before, but that was when everyone was younger and kids were a fair degree nicer. Now, they were cold and cruel and didn’t care.

“Kat Howard’s back,” she heard one of the students in the hallway tell his friend.

“Not for long. You know how that girl bounces around. Such a shame, she’s a pretty little thing,” the friend, presumably a jock and flirt, snorted.

“Of course that’s what you’re thinking about,” the first boy smacked the other upside the head. “She is hot though. But are you willing to shack up with someone who isn’t a virgin?”

“I mean,” the second male shrugged. “She’s hot. And besides, we don’t know if that rumor’s true or not.”

“Of course it’s true man. You’ve seen her. Plays the whole innocence card until she doesn’t and then she dips and leaves for another school. There’s no way she hasn’t lost it.”

(It wasn’t true. Katherine was indeed a virgin, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t escaped the terrible and ruthless rumors from the last school she was at.)

Looks of disgust and judgement were thrown her way throughout the day, but she only continued to do her best to be invisible.

And it was working- until lunchtime came around.

The girl was sitting by herself at lunch as she had done so for the past week, when she was so rudely interrupted by a girl slamming her hand down on the table hard enough to make Katherine practically jump out of her seat.

“You’re Kat Howard, right?” A preppy girl leaned down so that she was eye-level with the skittish teen.

“Uhm,” Kat worried her lip through her teeth.

“You are, aren’t you? Or do you not know?” the snobby girl laughed in distaste. Kat nodded mutely.

“Well, listen here.” She jabbed Katherine in the chest with her perfectly manicured finger. “Stay away from my man, or you’ll have it coming for you.”

“I-” Kat stuttered. “I don’t even know who you are?”

“How could you not know who I am? Oh, is it because all you’ve done for the past however many years is bounce around from foster home to foster home?”

“I-I’m sorry,” was all the girl could muster out.

“Yeah, you better be fucking sorry. My boyfriend was talking about you earlier, and I swear to God if I ever hear your name come out of his mouth again-”

“Hey, Kaylie, what’s going on over here?” A teacher interrupted.

“Nothing Mr! Just greeting the new student!” The girl, who she now knew was named Kaylie, smiled sweetly at the teacher who had come to intervene. The teacher seemed satisfied with this answer and began to back away.

With the teacher gone, the preppy teen had gotten far too close to Katherine for comfort.

“If I ever see you around my boyfriend again,” she sneered. “I will fuck you up more than any other foster home has before. That’s a promise.”

Kaylie stood upright, smoothed out her skirt, and plastered on a sinister smile. “Have a good day now, and welcome to the school!” she exclaimed loudly before skipping away.

Katherine, on the other hand, was frozen in her spot. She knew how cruel high school students could be, but she never thought they would stoop so low. And what Kaylie had threatened, well it terrified her honestly. The house that she was in before Jane- it royally fucked her over and left her more terrified than she had thought possible.

Feelings of anxiety and panic were overwhelming the young girl, and it was clear to her that she was about to spiral more than she would ever like to, much less in a public area of the school. Her brain told her to get up and run to the bathroom- the nurse’s office- the front office- anywhere. But her feet stuck to the ground below her as though she was being weighed down by concrete.

The next thing she knew, people, who she could only assume in her haze were teachers, were picking her up from her spot at the table. She came back around just enough to feel their hands on her body- hands touching her in places that teachers really shouldn’t have been. Hands that reminded her of-

She heard screaming. A piercing scream that was louder than she had ever heard before. And then she realized the high pitched shrieks were coming from her. She didn’t know she even had it in her anymore to fight like this. She thought it had been beaten out of her a long time ago. With this newfound voice of hers, she began to try to fight her way out of it, thrashing about like a wild animal trying to escape its predator.

“Let her go!” a new, more gentle voice called out from the distance. “It’s clear that this girl is having a panic attack, and I’m sure a bunch of hands on her is the last thing she needs right now! Let her go, and back away from her!” The last sentence echoed through the cafeteria, and the hands slowly let her go.

“Katherine, yes?” the gentle voice spoke from a distance. “It’s Nurse Mack. I need you to give me any sort of signal that you can hear me, okay?” Katherine didn't respond in fear. “Katherine, dear?”

When the teen didn't respond again, she heard one of the teachers who had their hands on her curse, “Jesus Christ Courtney! She’s just being insubordinate!”

“I need all of you to leave,” she stated finitely. When she was met with varying degrees of objection, her voice turned smooth with honey, but the words she spoke were threatening. “Out, or I will report you to the principal and the police for having your hands all over this young girl’s body. Surely, you don’t want that? Yes?”

In her haze, Katherine could tell that this woman truly was trying to help her. It wasn’t some sort of sick and twisted joke to lure her into a false sense of security. When the others had left, she tried to take a deep breath in attempts to ground herself. It would come out shaky, but it was better than feeling as though she was suffocating.

“That’s it honey, yeah. Can you try to take another deep breath for me?” The nurse continued to coach her through her panic. Eventually, she had calmed down enough for the nurse to be able to speak to her effectively.

“Alright love, do you think we could take a walk down to my office? You can lie down there until you’re feeling a bit better,” Ms. Mack offered. Katherine nodded and stood on wobbly legs.

When the two entered the office, the girl wasn’t quite sure what to do, so she stood in the door frame for a few moments.

“Would you like to lie down?” Katherine shook her head no. “Okay dear. How about you just sit with me for a few moments. I just have a couple phone calls to make.” The nurse pulled up a chair next to hers and gestured to it kindly before dialing a number on the phone.

“Hi, is this Jane Seymour? ...Yes, it’s Courtney... I’m well, thank you. I do have Katherine down in my office and I have a feeling the school will be calling you if they haven’t- oh, wonderful.” The teen couldn't miss the sarcasm dripping in the nurse’s voice. “She had a panic attack, and I haven’t been able to talk to Henry yet, but I do suspect he’s going to try to get her into some trouble as he does with the foster kids... I know, it’s horrible. I’ll do my best to stand up for Katherine, but I am afraid I’m on thin ice with him as of lately... coddling the children, or at least that’s what he’s calling it... yes. I’ll see you soon, thanks. Bye.”

“You called my foster placement?” Katherine looked up curiously once the nurse had hung up the phone. “I did. Not to get you into trouble or anything. Jane and I have had correspondence in the past, and I find it’s usually best if I chat with her first. Not because she’ll be mad or anything, no she would never be. It’s for reasons above you- she and the principal have a not-so-great past, and if she has background knowledge of what's-” the phone ringing interrupted Miss Mack. She stole a glance at the caller ID before groaning.

“Hi, yes, this is Miss Mack, and- well yes, I do have Katherine... she wasn’t being insubordinate, she was having a panic attack and should not be repri-... for what I’m not sure, but it’s clear she was not okay and... yes Dr. Tudor. I’ll bring her when she’s feeling better... she’s still not very responsive and I do think that... okay, okay. I’ll bring her down. Thank you, bye.” The nurse placed the phone back on its dock, not even trying to hide her annoyance with the principal.

“This damned school couldn’t give half a shit about anyone here but their grades,” she

muttered under breath.

She turned to face the poor girl next to her with a solemn look. “Unfortunately, I have to

take you down to the front office. I’ll do my best to defend you, but the worst thing that should happen is you’ll be given detention.” Katherine nodded slowly before allowing herself to be led to the office.

“Katherine Howard, only been here for a few weeks and already causing trouble,” the principal addressed her not-so-kindly. “Should’ve listened to the other principals in the surrounding schools I suppose. I’ve already called your foster mother and she’s on her way to-”

“No!” was the first thing that had come out of the girl’s mouth since the whole incident had occurred. “She had a really important meeting today and-”

“It’s already been handled. She’s on her way now to pick you up and see you through. For your insubordination, you’re being suspended for the rest of the week.”

Many thoughts swirled around Katherine’s mind. Would Jane be mad? Would she hit her? Would she throw her out of the house? Or maybe, considering how kind Jane had been so far, would she get a talking to and that be that?

“Sir, if I may,” Miss Mack interrupted. “I have to try to explain again that she was not being insubordinate on purpose. She was having a panic attack, and when I got to the cafeteria, some of the other male teachers had their hands on her and-”

“Are you instigating that the other teachers were the cause of this, Miss Mack?”

“No sir,” she stated. “What I’m saying is she was clearly already in the midst of her panic when these men came towards her and only continued to make the situation worse for her. If you would please-”

“I’d advise you to stop talking now Courtney. You’re already on thin ice, and another strike against you and you could be-”

“Dr. Tudor? Ms. Seymour is here now. Should I bring her in or?” the receptionist stated quietly, eyes veering anywhere but towards the principal.

“Bring her in.” The receptionist stepped aside for the blonde to march herself. Somehow, the woman looked just as wonderful as she had when she walked out the door that morning, albeit a bit frazzled.

“Hi love,” Jane’s warm eyes met fearful ones, but one glance at her and the teen couldn’t help but feel that maybe it would be okay after all. There was no malice behind the blue-grey eyes- there never was when she was looking at the girl. “We’ll sort this out, and then I’ll take you home, yes?” She turned to the principal.

“Henry,” she practically spat out, any trace of warmth now gone. “What is it?”

“Oh Jane, it’s always a pleasure,” a sinister smirk appeared on the principal’s face. “Is that really how you should act with your foster daughter in the room? You shouldn’t be mad at me- maybe your foster-”

“I doubt Kat did anything worth me leaving my meeting, and it's just your horrid management skills. Now,” she turned towards the nurse who had refused to leave the room. “Miss Mack, can you tell me what happened?”

The nurse began to explain what had happened before the principal interrupted, “This is my school Jane Seymour, and if I say she’s to be suspended, that’s what will happen. Miss Mack, go back to your office and mind your own damn business, or it would really be a shame for you to-” he was about to threaten firing her when the nurse simply held up a calm and steady hand.

“Yes sir.” With that, she turned to leave, but not before mouthing to the blonde, ‘I can’t afford to lose this job.’ Jane gave her a sympathetic smile and nod.

“She’s suspended for the next week, and I don’t want to hear anymore about Katherine refusing to listen to the directions of her teachers again, or she will face expulsion. Have I made myself clear?”

“Sure Henry,” the woman scoffed, not so much as giving him a second glance and instead running a gentle hand over her foster daughter’s- hoping and praying that she could signal that it didn’t matter what Henry had said; she was going to be just fine.

“Katherine?” The principal looked at her expectantly.

“Yes sir,” Katherine agreed lowly, head hung in shame.

The two had made it back to the house in silence. The teen wasn’t quite sure what to make of Jane. She had expected to be yelled at within the first ten seconds of getting into the car, but it never came. She was expecting glares to be shot at her whenever the older woman could get a chance. She was even expecting to possibly be struck by what was usually such a soft hand. But it never came. Silence had washed over them, but it wasn’t a terrible silence. Daggers never shot from the blonde’s eyes; every once in a while, Katherine would lift her head slightly to take a look at the woman next to her only to be met with the same blue-grey eyes filled with more love and compassion than she could ever imagine. A hint of concern was mixed in there, but the teen chose to see the warmth mostly. The soft hand that had found its way over Katherine’s in the office never once left; the warm and kind hand had held on tight, without an ounce of selfishness to it-, all in attempts to convey silently that everything would be alright.

Jane only let go of her sweet girl’s hand when she made moves to get out of the car, but Katherine stayed still.

“Honey, are you ready to go inside?” The older woman asked when she noticed the teen had yet to even unbuckle her seatbelt. The look of uncertainty in the girl’s eyes was confused and wary- almost as if... almost as if she was expecting Jane to yell at her and beat her once they were behind closed doors. “We don’t have to of course. If you’re comfortable out here, we can stay out here.” The blonde settled herself back into the car, prepared to sit with her girl for as long as she needed. She gently stretched her hand back out over Katherine’s.

The two sat in silence for quite some time. There was no, “Enough of this Katherine. You’re being silly. Let’s go inside.” No, Jane Seymour was the most patient woman you would meet, and she was more than happy to sit in silence in her car for the time that Katherine needed.

They had been sitting in the car for just over two hours when the silence was broken with Katherine’s body betraying her and let out a small hiccup. Jane, who had recently begun to doze off in the car, groaned softly and allowed her eyes to glance over to the teen without the teen noticing. She was crying, and it appeared she had been crying since the blonde allowed herself to close her eyes. It was as if this sweet and innocent girl had learned how to cry silently- much practice was clear. The way her body shook so softly that if Jane hadn’t been paying attention, she may have never noticed it- even with her hand still holding Kat’s. The way there was no heavy breathing or choked out sobs like Jane tended to- just silent tears streaming steadily down the girl’s face as regularly as water flows through the stream.

“Kat? Love, what’s wrong?” Jane repositioned herself so she could get a better look at the girl in the passenger seat.

“Oh,” the teen jumped a bit in her seat as she wiped furiously at her tears. “You’re awake! I'm fine. We can go in now.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to push you, but it’s clear you’re not okay. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wa-”

“I’m so sorry,” Katherine practically threw herself at the woman. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated over and over, openly weeping now.

Jane, who had opened up her arms and was now awkwardly leaning over the armrest to embrace the girl, just gently shushed her and murmured soft and sweet nothings to the girl until she had calmed down a bit.

“How about we go inside, prepare dinner, and then we can talk? It might be a tad more comfortable than the car?” the blonde suggested lightly. Katherine nodded solemnly, but hesitantly.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but-”

“No,” Kat stated firmly. “We can. I’m being silly.”

“I’m sure you have good reason as to why you wanted to stay in the car so long, dear,” Jane affirmed. “But, if you’re ready, let’s get going. I was thinking of making your favorite casserole tonight?” The shy blush and smile that appeared on Katherine’s face made Jane’s heart melt.

The two had sat down after preparing dinner together, Kat’s chair much closer to Jane than she had ever dared to be before.

“So love, we do have to talk about what happened today,” Jane spoke softly after she swallowed her mouthful. Kat nodded slowly. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

The teen launched into her story, every so often looking at the woman before her to see if there were any signs of annoyance or agitation. There never was.

“I’m just- I’m really sorry you had to miss your meeting. I know it was a big meeting with your boss for your promotion, and I’m sure I got you into trouble, and I-”

“Well, I won’t lie to you: my boss wasn’t very happy about me leaving so suddenly, but he knows that any foster child that is in my house comes before a blasted job. And love, your mental wellbeing is more important to me than any sort of promotion I could or could not get,” Jane told her softly.

“That’s what you say now,” Kat muttered under her breath, but the blonde picked up on it.

“I want you to hear me out on this Kat. I know you’ve heard it in the past, but I truly mean it. You matter more to me than anything else in my life. All of the kids who have been through my house hold a very special place in my heart, and you are no different,” she spoke in a gentle but firm tone.

‘You are different though. You’re so much different than any other child,’ Jane added in her head.

“But it was such a stupid reason to get pulled from work. You’re not even like, slightly mad?”

“It’s not a stupid reason at all, sweetheart. You can't help the panic that stormed its way through your body,” Jane sighed before admitting the next part, “And, I understand because sometimes I get them too.”

“You do?” Kat looked astonished. No foster parent that she had ever lived with before had ever admitted to being anything less than... Well, no foster parent had ever admitted to her that they also struggled sometimes. She knew they did, but no one had ever blatantly admitted it before. Jane nodded silently, a sign that it would be something they would speak about later.

“I do. So I understand the feeling. And I know that you would never do anything purposefully to get me out of that meeting.”

“So, you’re not upset? Not mad? Not going to yell and scream at me? Not hit me?” Kat asked so casually that it truly made Jane’s mouth fall wide open in shock.

“Of course not honey.” Jane’s eyes went wide. “Is that- is that why you didn’t want to get out of the car?”

“Everything’s hidden behind closed doors,” Kat sighed, eyes dulled and slightly glazed over. “It’s happened before.”

“I will never, ever lay a finger on you that isn't full of love and care. It won’t ever happen. And I rarely raise my voice. It happens, yes- I’ll admit to that. But it’s few and far between, and even if I get frustrated with you: I will never strike you. Not now, not ever. That’s a promise, my sweet girl.” The blonde understood these fears. She hadn’t lived Katherine’s life, but anger and violence was seemingly all she knew. Jane knew she had already promised herself to show Katherine a different light before, but she promised herself again in that moment.

“O-Okay,” the teen’s eyes came back to life. “I’m not in trouble or anything? You don’t like... want to take away my phone or something?”

“No dear. You’re not in any trouble at all. You didn’t do anything wrong, and that principal is just an idiot,” the woman scoffed. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that... bullshit.”

A present day Jane was lovingly stroking her soon-to-be daughter’s hair listening to her tell the tale when she felt a laugh being suppressed against her night shirt.

“What’s so funny young lady?” Jane sounded mock-annoyed, making sure to make it evident she was joking.

“It’s just... that was the first time I had ever heard you curse. It was pretty funny,” Kat continued to giggle softly.

“Well, I suppose it can be quite funny when those who don’t have mouths like a sailor curse,” Jane mused. “So love, what was the point of that story?”

“You didn’t give up on me that day either. Most would’ve dropped me right back off at the social services office claiming they couldn’t handle such a trouble maker. But you, you didn’t,” although she knew Jane never would, there was a hint of confusion laced in her soft voice.

“Well of course not. I would never dream of it,” Jane stated clearly.

“You were the first foster parent I lived with who heard me out.”

“Every child deserves to have their voice heard, especially in situations like that.”

“You were the first ever foster parent to admit to me that you weren’t perfect.”

“No one’s perfect, love.”

“Well, I know that. But, everyone just likes to pretend that they’re perfect, and then they show that they aren’t. You... you admit that you aren’t perfect, and yet you still are the closest thing to perfect that I’ve ever seen,” Kat smiled up at her soon-to-be mother, moving impossibly closer into her hold.

Jane sighed, pressing yet another gentle kiss to the teen’s hairline. “Well, that’s very sweet of you, but you and I both know I’m not perfect. Far from it. By you my dear, you are a gift to me and this world. Imperfections and all, I would never dare to lose you.”