#maybe it's the 'happy to watch everything burn' vibe that makes me think of new

[keepthetension]

random fun fact: the MV for guilty by taemin always makes me think of dff

when the show first dropped i thought it was just that both have groups of young people in isolated buildings in the forest, plus the overall general creepiness

but now the lyrics make me think of new and phee and their revenge quest, which makes me curious: for anyone else who knows this song, do you see it too?

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Quand Tu Voudras

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: ~7.2k

TW: kissing, angst, blood, burns, cuts, bruises, arguments, crying, depression, mention of EDs, panicking, explosions, drinking, self-image issues, mentions of addiction, mentions of drug use, mentions of Maeve

A/N: Third and Final Part babyyyyyy let's GO. I'm actually excited to watch each part get its own vibes, but also be a cohesive story. I really hope you all enjoy it! Thank y'all for doing me on this crazy journey!

Dedicated to New Lovers , You're Keeping Me Down

“If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.” ~Orson Welles

It was the most beautiful you had ever looked. 

Shopping for a wedding dress was one of the most terrifying experiences you had ever lived through, and you had been shot multiple times. 

But being surrounded by your closest friends and family members as you tried on dress after dress kept you going. 

You finally found the perfect one in a small shop outside of the DC area, hidden in a little suburb where life wasn’t as rushed as it felt. 

You tried on only three dresses at this little boutique. The second was almost perfect, and you were about to “say yes to the dress,” but someone was reorganizing the front rack, and that’s when the one you were currently wearing appeared, sent by the higher powers. 

It fits you perfectly. 

You started to cry when you saw yourself in the mirror, which caused Garcia to start crying, which caused Emily and JJ to cry, and the rest of your family quickly followed. 

So it was only natural that staring at yourself in the mirror right now made you tear up again. 

“Oh, Babe, no.” Emily was quick to fan your eyes as you tilted your head back, letting the tears melt back into your eyes. 

“I can’t help it.” You grumbled, eyes wide as you tried calming your breathing slowly. “It’s just so pretty…” 

“I know, I know. My money is on Derek crying first.” 

“Oh, please. We all know Rossi won’t stop crying the second he takes his seat.”

You had decided that the only people you wanted at the ceremony were close friends and family. That meant the team, their little ones, and each of your parents. Small. Peaceful. Intimate.

Derek was over the moon when you asked him to officiate your wedding, wanting him to be there for you in every way since that’s always been his role. 

You had taken him out for coffee under the very real guise that wedding planning made you want to rip your head off and chuck it out to sea. 

“Okay, baby girl, talk to me.” 

The ice was melting in the cup from the warmth of your hands, making your hands wet with the condensation, hiding the sweat from your nerves. 

“Do you know how much flowers cost?” 

Derek chuckled and shook his head. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“The government doesn’t pay me enough for the amount of flowers I want at my reception.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have picked the Peabody Library as your reception location.”

“In my defense.” You furrowed your brows. “You were with us when we toured it. It’s perfect, Derek. Don’t tell me it’s not.” 

“No, it’s perfect; I just don’t understand why you need that many flowers.”

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t even know me, Derek Morgan.” 

“He’s going to cry first.” Emily smiled, lightly dabbing under your eyes with some of your powder foundation to show that you weren’t almost crying. 

“I will buy you a whole bottle of Möet that Rossi will cry first.” 

As JJ entered the room, you and Emily shook hands, giggling like school girls. “Almost ready?” 

You nodded, glancing over at yourself in the mirror. 

Honestly, you had never thought this day would come. Your wedding day. After everything you had been through, all of the heartbreak, all of the confusion, all of the traveling and running away. Everything you could possibly think of going wrong just went wrong. Suddenly, the flowers weren’t delivered, and then no one showed up to the reception, and then you were left at the altar, abandoned and unloveable again. You couldn’t breathe; your chest was seizing. It was too tight. There wasn’t enough fresh air in the room. Your heartbeat was too loud, and you couldn’t look away from yourself in the mirror. This wasn’t real; Everything bad happening was in your head. 

Or maybe it was an awful dream, and you need to wake up before it gets too far and your heart gets shattered again. 

JJ whispered your name, reaching out for you, sending a shock of electricity through your arm when she touched it. 

You jumped. 

“I want to talk to him.” You blurted out, looking over at JJ. “I–I need to talk to him.” 

“You said yes.” 

You nodded, staring down at your wine glass, pondering if it was the right decision. Emily was wondering the same thing. 

“I don’t know if it’s the best idea for you to go back to—”

“It is.” You cut her off, not harshly, just firmly. “I haven’t been the same since I left the BAU, and I left for perfectly valid reasons, Em, I know. But….”

“But?” 

“But I miss it. Don’t you? It flexes my muscles in ways I couldn’t replicate, and I was so good at it. I felt smart and useful and not lost, wandering the islands of Greece.”

If you didn’t know her so well, Emily’s fake gasp could have easily been mistaken for a real one. “We had a fantastic time, and you know it.” 

“Yes, but I also know that I was feeling so unfulfilled intellectually that I went off and got a Ph.D. Like, come on, I never wanted a PhD before I left; I just didn’t know how to challenge myself.”

“That is fair. I just think you need to consider the fact that you’d be working with you know who.”

“You can say his name, Emily. He’s not some dark lord; he’s just an idiot with an IQ of 187.” 

“Yeah, Yeah, look. I have to go, but we are not done with this conversation, okay? I’ll need a full PowerPoint presentation with all the pros and the cons.” 

“Yes, ma’am, I can do that. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

You heard the click of her line going dead before there was a knock on your door. You quickly pressed play on your movie, letting one of your favorite rom-coms (When Harry Met Sally) play in the background as you scrounged around for where you had left your wallet. 

Clad in an oversized shirt you’ve had forever, plaid pajama shorts that were once part of a Christmas set, and your comfiest fuzzy socks, you slid over to the door once you had found your wallet. 

You opened the door. “How much…”

His eyes met yours, and you took a small step back. 

“You are not the pizza guy.” 

“No. I’m not.” 

His answer caused you to laugh a little bit, filling his chest with a warmth he hadn’t felt in over two years. 

“Can I–” He gestured into your house, and you moved to the side, allowing him to enter. 

“I, um….” You bit your lip and eyed him up and down. “As long as you’re okay with When Harry Met Sally playing in the background.”

“Time for the annual rewatch.” He smiled at you nervously, but a very small part of yourself enjoyed the fact that he remembered. 

You headed back towards the couch, casually trying to clean up as you went to give the impression that you were cleaner than you were. 

“Shoes off before you get to the couch.” You called over your shoulder. 

The door closed behind Spencer with a soft click. 

“Honey, you said you don’t want a first look.”

“We don’t have to look at each other—I don’t know, like a corner or something. I just..I-I-I.” 

JJ watched as your panic started to bubble over, and she took your hands in hers. “Want to call him first?” 

You nodded. “Y-Yeah, let’s try that.” 

JJ handed you your phone off the vanity, watching as you dialed the number, panicking even more when it wouldn’t connect—there was no service. 

Spencer had asked you to play chess with him that night, and you obliged. Something about falling into an old routine felt good; it felt right. A movie you chose in the background while playing chess against Spencer. Some things were always meant to be. The night was filled with laughs, small talk, and contentment–life feeling like it should. 

A familiarity shrouded you both, mocking the comfort you once used to feel.

When you won, he was a bit baffled. You had only beaten him a few times, and he was focusing on all of the outcomes. How could he not notice—

“You can’t win every game, Spence.” 

His heart lodged in his throat at the nickname, and he looked up at you, that goofy half smile on his lips. 

Lovestruck. He looked lovestruck. 

And then you exhaled. “We can’t avoid it forever. I know that’s why you came here in the first place.” 

He blinked away the love, replacing it with guilt, hurt, fragments of something you both had grieved in your own time. 

“Y-yeah. Let’s um, let’s talk about…”

You redialled the number only to be met with the same beeping as before, eyes wide as you looked at JJ. “There’s no service. JJ, I can’t–he won’t…” 

Emily handed you her phone–it was ringing, thank god. 

“Hey Emily, is everything okay?” 

“It’s me.” You said simply, but the wobble in your voice said everything he needed to hear.

“oh–Honey, talk to me. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

“I-I…” You swallowed your tears and looked over at your two friends—you gestured slightly, silently asking them to leave the room so you could talk to your future husband alone. They obliged, letting the door close. It was nice of them to pretend like they weren’t running over to see if they could eavesdrop from his room, but they were just met with Derek in the hall, who had also been booted out. 

“Is she okay?” 

Emily shook her head. “No idea. She was fine one moment, and she was about to burst the next. Like a complete shift of personality.” 

Derek sighed. “I’ve never seen him switch so quickly either. He was all nervous one minute, but the second he heard her voice….he almost sounded like Hotch doing damage control.” 

JJ laughed slightly at that, glancing back at the door hiding you behind it. 

“Do you think she’ll go through with it?” Derek whispered slowly, making sure no one was around to hear him. 

Emily fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist. “She’s terrified he’s not going to.” 

“Look, Spence, I get it. Shit happens. But you don’t know what it was like, coming home one day and you were laughing with someone else. You hadn’t laughed for months, almost a year, before then.”

“I know. I’m so–”

“Say sorry one more fucking time. Sorry isn’t explaining…or talking to me. I know you have trouble expressing whatever bullshit is going on in your head, but you have to try. It’s me, for fucks sake, Spence, And while I am willing to wait, I can only be so patient for so long with no actual explanation—” 

“I was terrified of you.”

“What…” 

Spencer stood up, pacing back and forth in front of your coffee table, trying to find the right words. “You were so far gone when Em died, and you had sunk into this pit of despair, and I was scared of watching you push down this path, destructive and–and; I didn’t know who you were, and I was so scared to watch you go down this path so I turned away instead.” 

“Spencer, you ran to JJ. You just left me here, alone. And then, when she comes back, you fucking threaten the fact that you were having Dilaudid cravings?”

“I think he’s even more mortified that she will back out on him. He knows everything she’s gone through. I mean–I love her, but she’s got major commitment issues.” 

JJ slapped his arm and glared at him. “And for good reason, Derek.” 

Derek grumbled an ‘ow,’ rubbing at his arm. “I’m not saying it wasn’t justified–I completely side with her on it--I’m just pointing out what we already know.” 

Spencer closed his eyes. “I don’t love you anymore.” 

Your heart leaped into your throat, or maybe it was vomit, you weren’t sure, but all you could do was stare at him from across the kitchen countertop. 

“Since this was my place first, uh…I can give you a couple of weeks to find a place, and I’ll even sleep on the couch…”

You hadn’t even spoken yet, shaking your head. “Stop. Spencer. What.” 

Your head was pounding, hands gripping onto the counter to try and steady yourself.”

“Sorry.” He whispered. He couldn’t even look at you. He was just staring at his hands, almost unsure about what he was saying. 

“Sorry?” You laughed, tears starting to track down your cheeks. “Spencer, this has to be a sick fucking joke..” 

He shook his head. 

Behind the door, You were just pacing back and forth, listening to his voice, trying to erase this memory from your mind and find a new one to replace it, barely listening to the man on the other end of the line. 

“Hey, listen to me. It’s going to be okay. If you want to call the whole thing off, everyone will understand. If it’s not right—.” 

“No.” You responded immediately. “I–I, I want to do this, I want to marry you…just…”

“You just needed some reassurance. I know.”

You nodded, not realizing he couldn’t hear you nod, but somehow, it felt like he did. 

“I love you.” 

You smiled, exhaling shakily. “Good.” 

His laugh bubbled through his lips, causing you to take another breath.

“I’ll see you out there?” 

“Can you just stay on the phone for another minute or so? I just need, like—”

You could hear him nod over the phone. “Anything you want.”

Somehow, you were back in that fucking elevator. Again. 

But this time, it felt like a homecoming rather than a curse you were trying to break. 

When the doors opened, you saw your family leaving little presents on your desk—flowers, balloons, chocolate, even cupcakes from your favorite bakery. They were all so busy setting it up that they didn’t notice as you walked up behind them, peering over their shoulders. 

“Looks good, guys.” 

“You think—” Derek did a double take and clutched his chest. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.” 

You laughed and smiled at him, dropping your bag onto your chair. “It looks wonderful. You guys didn’t have to do anything for me–”

“Actually, we did. How could we not? I mean! She’s home! She’s back solving crimes in sexy-looking outfits!” Garcia wrapped her arm around your shoulders, resting her head on yours. 

“I love it, guys, thank you.” 

JJ briskly walked past you all, giving you a brief smile, almost running up the stairs and into Hotch’s office. 

“Well, looks like you’re getting thrown right back into it.” Derek sighed. 

Hotch came out of his office and smiled at you before nodding at the others. “Wheels up in forty, everyone. I’ll brief you all on the plane.” 

“Good.” 

“Just breathe y/n. Okay? I’ll be the one at the end of the altar with the incredibly well-tailored suit and those flowers you like so much pinned to my chest.”

“You’re gonna cry.” You whispered jokingly, taking in a deeper breath than before. “I look so good in this dress. I actually was crying about it before I made Emily call you.” 

“It’s like you’re trying to kill me.”

Derek knocked on your door, leaning his ear up against it, trying to hear what you were saying. He called out your name, and after about a minute, you told him it was unlocked. 

“Can I come in?”

“If you want Derek, it is entirely up to you.” 

He opened the door, tears welling up the second he saw you. 

Hearing him enter, you faced him, smiling softly at him. 

All Derek could do was take you in for a second, unable to really think of what he was about to tell you. This felt a bit ridiculous since he was there when you picked out the dress, but watching you now, ready to actually wear it for its intended purpose, was a whole different ball game. 

“You look…..”

“Right.” You whispered, walking over and squeezing his hand. “I’m ready. Let’s do this thing before shit goes south.”

______________________________________________________________

“Y/n, You are the love of my life, and I could give you an eternal list of every single moment of my life where I felt nothing but complete and utter adoration for you. But then last week, you picked the movie you thought we should watch: a nineties rom-com, obviously, with big romantic gestures and a heroine who doesn’t need to be tamed. And those two inspired me to give you instead a list of the ten things I hate about you.” 

Spencer had gotten a good look at you for the first time in a long time. He had already felt guilty about the fact that he had Maeve and that you had broken up. But what he had failed to realize was the same thing Derek had–You were someone entirely different, a ghost of yourself. The guilt was gnawing through his stomach when he told Hotch what was going on, and he had begged Hotch to let you sit out, trying to save you from this, but clearly, Spencer couldn’t do anything right for you anymore. He hadn’t been able to in a very long time. Hotch had cleared his throat while Spencer shook his head. “I-I tried Hotch, I really didn’t want…”

He just nodded at Spencer. “I know, Reid, but you must have known there was no way this conversation would go any better than that.” 

Reid just nodded and stood up, going out into the bullpen, not missing the way all of their eyes snapped to him as Penelope dumped her broken mug into the trash. 

Before anyone could say anything, Hotch walked out of his office and looked at everyone. “As you all could have guessed, Agent Y/L/N will not be joining us on this case. I expect everyone in the conference room in ten.” with that, Hotch walked past Reid and down the stairs toward where he had assumed you had run off to. 

Reid just returned to his desk, sitting and staring at your now empty desk. Hotch had fulfilled your request, letting you move across the bullpen so you didn’t have to sit next to him anymore. 

Some part of the thought that you couldn’t even look at him anymore caused his gut to lurch, causing his hearing to burst for a moment. Maybe this was too fucked up. Perhaps he had been wrong. He thought he was doing the right thing by letting you go, not weighing you down with all his own bullshit, but he realized he had failed to pay attention. 

Spencer thought long and hard, trying to piece together everything he had thought about in the past couple of months when it came to you, and that’s when he realized it was every day. He thought about you every day. 

But he had ignored you. He had failed to notice as you crumbled to nothing in front of him. 

“Number ten is that I hate the way you fold laundry. It’s incredible how you manage to fold every single item in a completely different manner. It baffles me. One of the great mysteries in this world that we might never have the answer to.” 

“So you two spoke?”

You held up your finger as you finished the prosecco in your glass. Once you finished, casually, you picked up the bottle and poured yourself a second glass, only beginning to speak when the glass had been filled to your liking. 

“He came over to my apartment, Derek. I had already opened the door, and what was I going to say—”

“How about no?”

“It’s rude to interrupt Derek Morgan.” Penelope elbowed him and took a sip from her own glass. “But he’s right, Y/n. You could have said no and slammed the door in his face.” 

“But that’s not who I am. You know I’m a sucker for closure. You know I wanted to talk to him anyway. I just wasn’t expecting the discussion that ended up happening….”

Derek raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Do tell Princess.”

You shrugged and took another sip. “We talked about Maeve.”  

The looks you received were exactly what you had expected, only because it was how you felt about the conversation. 

“Number nine. I hate how you pick out what we will watch each week. You just skim through every single title on every platform until the one with the right ‘energy’ calls out to you. And they’re never the same. You manage to match a film to the night perfectly, and I hate how well you can pinpoint that about me. 

“Eight. I hate the way you drive. You manage to be the safest and most dangerous person on the road. There’s nothing more to that one. You terrify me.” 

“I cannot believe you, Spencer Reid. You have the audacity to come to my house, lose at chess, and then accuse me of being the reason our relationship ended!?”

“That’s not what I said.” His voice was desperate. “I’m not blaming anyone but myself, okay? I fucked up. I know I fucked up. I just—You were so–”

“I was so what, Spencer. What about me was just soooo fucking terrifying to you that you decided you didn’t want to propose to me anymore.” 

“That’s not fair.” 

Your jaw dropped. “You’re fucked in the head if you think the part that isn’t fair is me calling you out on that.” 

Spencer paced around, running his hands through his hair. He was going to wear a path in your carpet the way he was pacing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. 

“Seven. I hate how captivating you are. Whenever you tell a story, there’s no use in getting any work done because all anyone can do is wait for the story to be finished. If there’s no ending–I’ve watched Morgan sulk at his desk until you returned from a meeting because you were running late and didn’t wrap up the end of the story for him. Something about the way you speak, the way you capture people’s attention, is one of the most dangerous weapons I’ve ever seen on the planet. 

“I hate—oh, sorry–Number six.” He smiled at you and squeezed your head. You were shaking slightly as you rapidly blinked away tears, trying to inhale and exhale through your nose. It wasn’t working. Every word this man said made you one second closer to jumping onto him and kissing him senseless. “I hate how smart you are. It’s ridiculous. You can argue so beautifully and eloquently that it makes anyone arguing against you look like a fucking idiot. You speak four fucking languages, making you invincible and even more aggravating since you’ve decided to start learning a fifth one. You have started to beat me every other game in chess, which is actually humiliating for me, and I can’t figure out how you’re doing it. You read everything under the sun and still manage to have a life, friends, and family. I don’t know anyone in the world who could compare to your intellect.”

“Five. I hate how you steal my chocolate-covered pretzels. I bought you a whole fucking cabinet’s worth, and somehow, mine still got eaten.” 

You watched him give you a bit of a stink eye for that one, causing you to kiss his hand lightly. “My apologies.”

“You don’t mean it, and you know it.” He grumbled, flipping his page so that he could keep reading. 

“I hate how beautiful you are. It’s distracting. I can’t work near you anymore because all I want to do is daydream about you. I want to watch you smile for the rest of my life if I can help it.” 

“Three. I hate how much you care. It terrifies me how much you care about other people. I have seen you at your best and your worst moments.” You squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I have seen the worst outcomes of cases we could ever imagine, or the best, and yet you put the same amount of effort and care into all of them. It’s infuriating because you put your life on the line constantly to be able to give people a chance, whether that be to save them from others or to save them from themselves. You are the most considerate person in the world, even to those who might not deserve it.” 

This was not a good case. 

It was never a ‘good case,’ but this one just sucked the absolute life out of you. You had been back for only a month, and it was going too well. You were on top of your game. You were better than ever—but you knew the other shoe would drop.

And it did. 

You were never a big fan of getting shot at, but you would prefer that rather than have to escape a burning building. It was one of your biggest fears, and here it was, being realized. 

You had managed to crawl down to the first floor before everything started to go black. He had sealed the windows. He had sprinkled broken glass along the stairs, causing you to rip open your legs and hands as you slid down the stairs. The more significant shards of glass shredding the back of your pants. It was fucking painful. But you had managed to make it to the kitchen. 

That’s when you saw the firefighters bursting through doors, trying to contain the fire surrounding you. You could feel the burn on your skin as they pulled you out of the building, blood dripping down your legs and hands. 

You must have been one fucked up sight for Hotch to drop everything he was doing and run over to you. But you wished he didn’t because the building behind you exploded. The flames must have hit the gas line, and the house came crashing down. 

You were thrown back from the force, causing you to land on your back. Nothing was broken, nothing was sprained, but adding road rash and hearing loss to your ever-growing list of injuries was not fun. 

Spencer and Hotch, who were shoved to the ground by the blast, scrambled over to you, where you were just lying on the ground, facing the sky, trying to breathe. 

Maybe they were yelling your name or just trying to speak to you, but your head buzzed with the remnants of the explosion. 

You watched as the sky above you filled with smoke and flickered with red hues. At some point, you saw Spencer come into your line of view. He was definitely mouthing your name. 

Just then, like a wave crashing over you again, your hearing came back. Overwhelming could barely describe the feeling of shock running through your body. Your eyes widened as tears sprung to your eyes, your lungs gasping for air, and your mind flooded with adrenaline, with panic. 

“Y/N. Hey. Listen to me. Hey.” Hotch had been trying to get you to sit up. He was going through his own internal panic attack—this scene was a little too close to NYC, to Kate. 

Ambulance sirens blared, and you could hear a beam crash down and spur on the fire—” It hurts. So. Bad.” You finally managed to whisper, still gasping for air. 

Reid wasn’t sure you were even registering that you were sobbing and that tears were racing down your cheeks. 

“Can you sit up?” 

“My hands.” You mumbled. “There-there was glass…so much…” 

You flinched as Hotch yelled for a gurney. 

“I need you to try and sit up, okay?” Spencer was next to you. He was on his hands and knees, slowly trying to gain your attention. There is a gentle touch on the arm here and a brush of your hair out of your eyes. He was just trying to give you peace, a breath amid everything going on.

“Spence.” You whined, flexing your hand, wincing when a tiny shard of glass shifted in your palm, causing even more pain. 

“I know.” He said to you, gently taking your hand and wincing as he saw the microscopic shards scattered across your palm. “I need you to sit up for me.” 

“Please don’t make me get up, Spence.” You whispered. 

Hotch had moved away from the both of you, trying to clear a path so two EMTs could reach you. 

“Once you sit up, I promise you won’t have to do anything else.” 

You closed your eyes and let out a cry. It felt so relieving to just let whatever tension you had left in your body. But the thought of not doing anything sounded even better, so you slowly made your way to a sitting position, leaning against Spencer’s chest as he kissed your head and carefully ran his hand up and down your arm. 

Spencer’s entire body relaxed into yours. He had never been more grateful that you could make it out of that building before…he didn’t want to think about what else would have happened. The two of you had just started talking again. You were hanging out. He would have never forgiven himself if he left things the way they were. 

It felt wrong for him to be grateful at how much you got hurt because all of your limbs were still intact, and you were still conscious, still breathing. But he was thankful as he held you on the pavement, in the middle of the road, while everyone ran around you both. 

You, on the other hand, were not happy to be sitting up. The adrenaline started to wear off, and your body was no longer buzzing. “Spence.” You whispered to him, trying to get his attention. You were nauseous, and the world was spinning. Everything was phasing in, and out of clarity, you could actually feel the earth rotating. 

“Spence.” This time, it was said with more urgency. And it caught his attention. “I need to lie back down.” 

“You can’t—”

“I’m gonna vomit.” 

“Shit shit shit, okay, nausea is usually a sign of a concussion, a really bad one, most likely in the red zone—”

“Spencer, please.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and slumping against him, trying your best to hold down whatever you felt slowly creeping up your throat. 

“I can’t let you lay back down.” He mumbled, turning you in his arms, prepping for whatever would come out. 

Luckily for both of you, the two EMTs and Hotch had made it back over, bucket in hand, because Hotch had told them you most likely had a concussion. And god bless that stupid bucket because it managed to save some of your dignity by not throwing up all over the street. The EMTs had checked you out, flashing that stupid fucking light in your eyes, looking at your hands and doing their best to pull out some of the larger chunks of glass, and then helping to get you onto a gurney, and eventually into an ambulance to be shipped off to the nearest hospital. 

Spencer was the only person you would allow to come with you in the ambulance. 

“Two. I hate how well you know me and can read me like an open book. I have never met someone who knew me in the same way you could. You know things about me before I could even fathom the possibilities. You have been there for me in some of the darkest times of my life, and I would not have survived if it wasn’t for you. You picked me off the ground countless times, more than I could ever repay you for.” 

“And last but not least. I hate how I can’t live without you. I hate that if you’re not in the same room as me, I can’t breathe. I hate how you manage to make my days filled with comfort, support, and love when sometimes I don’t deserve it. I hate when you go away to conferences, and I have to wake up to an empty bed, and the only thing that motivates me is the fact that I know you’ll text me as soon as you’re awake. I hate how you are the last person I want to see at night before I go to sleep. And I hate that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

You were fully crying, tears tracking down your cheeks, as you squeezed his hand tightly. You laughed slightly, trying to wipe away one of the stray tears, but he beat you to it, using his thumb to wipe away your tears gently. 

“Did you just quote When Harry Met Sally at me?” 

He smiled cheekily, handing the paper back to Derek, who put it in his pocket. “What else would I be able to quote at you? It was playing that night…” 

You shook your head, unable to stop the smile across your face. You heard him whisper, “I love you,” but it still made your heart ache. 

“Okay, Doctor Reid. Work your magic.” 

“You make it sound like I’m performing a spell or something. I’m literally just fixing your computer.” 

You snorted and shrugged. “Isn’t it you who always said that physics and magic are basically the same thing.”

“Okay, yes, but—”

“And computer science is a science, right?” 

Spencer just rolled his eyes, realizing he would not win this argument, and began to futz with your desktop. 

It had crashed on you while you were in the middle of a report. At home. In your pajamas. 

This was a practice that was familiar to Spencer. Whenever you were working on something that was not classified or very sensitive information, you had gotten special clearance from Hotch to bring it home. So Spencer has seen you write up preliminary profiles for cases around the country in nothing but your pajamas many times. 

Except he hasn’t seen you in just pajama shorts and a tank top since, well. 

He was supposed to be focusing on the desktop, and that is what he is going to do. 

“I really appreciate you coming over at like 10 pm, Spence. I really do. I’m sure you were busy, so I really appreciate it.”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “It was no trouble, really. Besides.” He turned back to the screen with a cheeky grin across his face. “I know how you get when something breaks.” 

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you leaned against the kitchen counter. “Spencer. Are you…flirting with me…”

His face turned slightly red as he quickly faced the computer screen again. “And so what if I am,” he mumbled, focusing on the task at hand. He wasn’t sure how you managed to freeze your computer this badly, but he was determined to work it out. 

You shrugged and checked your phone, looking at the text from Emily that you had chosen to ignore. Maybe she told you not to ask Spencer over. Maybe she had warned against moving too quickly with anything. 

But you were a grown adult, you could make your own choices. You could—

“It’s, uh, it’s all fixed for you.” Spencer had stood up and was nervously fiddling with his hands. He hasn’t been like this towards you since you had both started dating over seven years ago. 

You bit your lip and casually turned your phone on DnD. 

“Thanks, Spence. I really appreciate it.” 

He nodded, doing his best to stop eying you up and down. 

The two of you stood there, unsure of how to continue on with one another. 

The tension was thick, almost like a humidity in the air that covered your skin and ruined your hair, just by stepping into it. 

Spencer eventually broke eye contact and wiped his hands on his pants. “Well, I’m going to uh…Have a good night.” He quickly grabbed his bag from the counter and shut the door behind him. 

Your hands dragged down your face as you sighed and shook your head. Maybe it was for the best that you two just stayed friends. Maybe it was for the best that you two never were in a relationship again. You remembered what happened last time. Maybe you should just finish the report and go to bed. Or maybe you should run after him. It wouldn’t be that embarrassing, considering he was staring back at you, right? 

Who said you didn’t deserve to make a bad decision every now and again. 

You grabbed your keys and slid on your slippers, not even bothering to grab a coat. You opened the door and came face to face with an out-of-breath Spencer just about to knock on your door. You took one look at each other. 

And that’s when he reached down and brought your lips to his. 

Emily reached over and gently handed you your vows.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” You whispered, causing everyone around you to laugh softly at you, desperately trying to stop crying. 

“I said I was going to try not to cry during his, and that obviously was not the case.” You slowly exhaled your lips, taking his hand and smiling up at him.

“Hey.” You whispered, causing him to whisper it back to you. “So–um. I wrote my vows a long time ago. Like, a while back. And I was looking for them and almost couldn’t find them. But I remembered that I had written them in that really small brown, leather journal thing that you got me for one of my birthdays that I kept losing because I always put it down and never remembered where.” 

The small, collected group laughed together, watching you turn the page in that small brown leather journal. 

“I didn’t know where I wanted to start when writing my vows. I knew how I wanted it to end, though. I’ve always known how I wanted my life to end and everything to go. So that’s what I did. I started at my endgame and worked my way backward. But shit happens, and life never goes according to plan. Never.” 

He squeezed your hand. 

Those weeks after were fucking brutal for you. 

Relaxing was something you were never fantastic at, so having to take two weeks off to recover from your concussion, burns, cuts, and bruises was excruciating. 

Maybe it would have been worse if a certain someone wasn’t basically living in your apartment with you, doing anything and everything to be there for you. 

You woke up to freshly brewed coffee, sometimes breakfast if he wasn’t away on a case. Sometimes, he’d be home in time to make you both dinner. It felt oddly domestic for you, reminding you of before Maeve, before everything that had gone down over the phone. 

Once the two weeks were over, he might have visited to check up on you. There would be nights where he would stay over just in case your head or back started to hurt again. It took more convincing for Spencer to let you go back to work than it did for your actual neurologist. 

“Need I remind you I’m a doctor too, Spencer. I’m going back to work on Monday, meaning two over one, majority rules.” 

Spencer scoffed and crossed his arms. “The lights will cause headaches, and staring at screens and files will only add to that. It’s a bad idea, y/n. Especially if we have to go somewhere, traveling across the country in a plane. You might as well knock yourself out because the air pressure would kill your head and ear drums.” 

“Always the one for dramatics, aren’t we.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m not being dramatic. I just care about your well-being, apparently more than you do—”

“Spence.”

“What.”

You kissed him softly. Just to shut him up. There were no ulterior motives. None. 

He hummed, hands sliding around your waist, keeping you close to him as you broke the kiss. 

That was another development you were keeping under wraps. The two of you might have decided to give it another shot. It had been over a month since you rejoined the BAU, and even before you got severely injured, Spencer had been doing everything he could to apologize. Whether that be his apologies or through his actions, he was stepping up. 

But both of you had yet to outright tell the others. Emily knew something was going on, especially when you showed up to work in the same outfit two days in a row, but she had assumed you had seen someone else, not your ex. 

You didn’t mind, though, when he took such good care of you when he bought you fresh flowers every week, when he kissed you past the point of breathing when he would—

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer whispered, interrupting whatever spiral you had started.

“What book I should read next.” 

“Liar.” He squeezed your sides, laughing softly and kissing you again. 

“There’s not much I can say about how life doesn’t go as planned since everyone here with us understands and knows how quickly life changes. But I realized that I need to have you by my side regardless of how it changes. I don’t want to be back in a place where I’m not with you because it just didn’t make any sense.” 

“My vows are short because I would never make it through them if they were any longer.” 

This caused another ripple of laughter throughout your friends, giving your fiancé a moment to wipe away another stray tear on your cheek. 

“All of this to say.” You cleared your throat, but it didn’t stop the tears from clouding your vision. “Shit. Give me a second.” 

Emily gave you a tissue, which you used to wipe under your eyes. You shook your hands slightly, trying to calm yourself down and shake out the rest of the emotions so that you could at least finish saying your vows. 

“Having begun to love you, I love you forever—in all changes, in all disgraces, because you are yourself.”

Spencer beamed joyfully, realizing you followed his same path, quoting something you knew the other loved. 

And suddenly, the stars aligned. A soft breeze picked up, and the world was quiet. 

Everything was alright. Everything was okay. 

And for that beautiful, brief moment, you had everything you could have ever asked for, and there was nothing you would have changed, nothing in the whole world that was worth the love and happiness you felt in this moment, beaming at Spencer as you both said

I do. 

“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.” - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @gubzgirl @onlyspence @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @mynameisnotokay @kalulakunundrum @academiareid @lilsunshine1092 @brilliantreid @shqwqrma @cluelessteam @lockwoods-coat-and-reids-vests @hereforfun22-blog @yoursarahg @r-3dlips @lilrios-world @hereforfun22-blog @mega-kittyglitter-1

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 4 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.5k

chapter warnings: swearing as usual, jin is sad and precious, alcohol consumption, one (1) instance of mild violence, suspension of disbelief as to the legal consequences of said violence, jungkook still has zero filter, feelings and bed sharing

a/n: this was a fun one >:) shout out to everyone who brainstormed, sprinted, or otherwise shouted about this fic with me and gave me the motivation to power through this (y’all know who you are, and i love each and every one of you <3)! and a massive shoutout to @jeonqkooks for the beautiful new banner!!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“And Tae encouraged you to do this?”

“Yeah. Kind of made up my mind for me actually.”

You toss down a few potential dresses on Maya’s bed after spending the past several minutes raiding her closet. With the bulk of your wardrobe still at your old apartment, she’d invited you to borrow something of hers for your date with Seokjin.

You may also be sharing a couple glasses of wine to calm your nerves.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I can see you thinking.”

“It’s nothing.” She holds a sparkling gold number up to your shoulders, then frowns and throws it back down. “Or at least nothing you want to hear, anyway.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on about Tae and I again.”

She shrugs. “I think you’d be great together. Sue me.”

“I could say the same about you and Kook.”

A snort rasps from the back of her throat as she coughs on her wine. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The two of you are more alike than you think,” you say. “And I don’t think you give him enough credit. He’s a good guy.”

She purses her lips, watching clouds go by out the window. “He’s…frustrating.” Her eyelids drop, coming together in a slow blink as her focus turns back to you razor-sharp. “And weren’t you against us together in the first place?”

“Yeah, because it was just sex.”

“It is just sex.”

“Well, I changed my mind.” You take a sip of your drink, let the acidic taste roll around and coat your tongue before it slides down your throat. “If there’s a possibility you two can make each other happy, then you should have that. I think maybe love is rarer than it seems.”

“He and I are far from love.”

“For now,” you say. “But maybe someday?”

She only grimaces like she’s swallowed a bitter pill, giving the tiniest shake of her head before rushing to change the subject. “Tell me about this Seokjin guy.”

“Not much to tell,” you explain. “Joon knows him from the hospital. He’s been very pleasant when we’ve texted. Polite. I’m definitely not getting creep vibes from him.”

“Always a plus. But still, text me the address of the restaurant and a physical description once you’re there.” She pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. “Also, I have some condoms if you want to take a couple.”

“Um, no?”

“Why not? Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“See, that sounds like something Jungkook would say.”

“Well a dumbass clock is right twice a day, or whatever the saying is.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right.”

“Close enough in his case.” Her voice lowers suddenly—delicately—as if to share something confidential even though you’re the only two in the room. “But speaking of protection, did you hear back from the clinic?”

Maya had delicately suggested a couple weeks ago that you should probably get tested for STDs given that you don’t really know how many women Jace had been with and if they were being safe. It was a fair point, as humiliating as it was to consider that he may have found yet another way to rip apart your life, and so you’d gone for an appointment last week, trying not to cry as you provided the necessary samples.

“Negative,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed even though you know you shouldn’t be and that your friend would never judge you. But the fact that you even have to have this conversation at all gnaws at your own sense of self-doubt. “I’m clean.”

She presses her mouth into a line, an acknowledgment of the misfortune of the situation, while simultaneously tilting her chin in approval. “Good.”

You pick at a loose thread hanging off the hem of the dress you’re holding, a dog barking somewhere outside the window as you grasp for literally anything else to talk about. “So where are you guys heading tonight?”

“Who knows?” Maya says with a sigh, leaning back on the bed. “You know it’s like herding cats with them sometimes. I’m supposed to go over there after this, and we’re going to wing it then.”

“So one of our usual clubs?”

“I’d bet my left tit on it.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling that maybe you’d rather be spending time with your friends tonight instead of going on a half-hearted date. But Seokjin seems nice, and you’ve already committed so you’re stuck. “Could you please just try to make sure Tae has some fun?” You chew at your bottom lip. “He’s been so focused on cheering me up, I want to be sure he still has time for himself.”

“Worry not. I’ll help him pick someone up,” Maya says nonchalantly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her entire body perks up, eager that you’ve taken the bait. “Why, does that bother you?”

“Also not what I meant,” you say, crushing down the tiny flip in your stomach at the thought of Taehyung taking someone home as Maya pouts. “I just want him to enjoy himself. I don’t think he’s been doing enough of that lately.”

“Without his other half there with him?” Maya mumbles. “Fat chance.”

You ignore it, knowing she’s baiting you yet again.

But your heart warms all the same.

Seokjin is the embodiment of a perfect gentleman.

He’s handsome—you can’t help but notice as he stands at your approach, introducing himself and coming around the table to pull out your chair for you with a slight bow. When the waiter appears to take your drink order, Seokjin (or “Jin,” as he says to call him) offers to let you pick the wine, so you go with a nice-looking pinot grigio (you haven’t even been able to look at reds since that night). Typical first date conversation flows as you browse the menu, order, and wait for your food, and you find that Jin is soft-spoken without being shy, confident without being arrogant. He tells you about his job as a physical therapist and how he likes to spend his weekends fishing with his brother on his parents’ boat. As you likewise share anecdotes about your publishing job and college shenanigans, Jin listens attentively with kind eyes, asks thoughtful questions, and chuckles at all the right bits.

He’s nice.

But there’s no spark.

You can sense it in his posture, too. His eyes are kind, but there’s pain behind them. He asks questions, but there’s an uncertainty lingering under the surface. He laughs at your jokes but subtly deflates each time like he’s guilty of something.

By the time your meals arrive, you’re ready to chalk it up as a loss.

“Jin,” you begin, tone aiming for the gentleness of “it’s not you, it’s me” proportions. “You seem like a wonderful guy, but for the sake of honesty, it doesn’t feel like either of us sees this going further, does it?”

Jin’s shoulders sag, the mask of obligatory cheerfulness falling away in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” you say quickly, not wanting him to feel bad when he was clearly trying his best to have a good time with you. “I think we both knew going into this that we were each coming to the table with…baggage.”

Jin nods, his eyes now tinged red as he murmurs, “It’s been tough.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ah.” He smiles sadly. “We’ve only just met, and you’re clearly a very sweet woman. I’d feel bad dumping it all out on you when I’ve already wasted your time.”

“Maybe it would be good for both of us?” you suggest. “Obviously we’re both not feeling this from a date standpoint, but maybe what we need is just a friend who understands.”

A slow tip of his chin downwards as he considers. “I think I can do that.”

“And you’re not wasting my time, for the record. I just appreciate the company.”

Jin visibly relaxes at that, his posture easing with the pressure of the date now gone.

“So Namjoon told me you also just got out of a long-term relationship?” you ask, poking at your ravioli.

His chin dips in acknowledgment, voice rough as he states, “Aera.”

“How long were the two of you together?”

“Since high school.” He twists the fabric of his napkin in his hands. “She was my first…everything. Truly. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like her.” A stray thread absentmindedly twines around his finger, the blood darkening under the skin. “We made it all the way through college and my physical therapy schooling doing long distance. Spent the past couple years finally living together. We were happy.” The thread snaps, and he shakes his head. “At least I thought we were.”

You’d swear you can feel your heart literally ache with how forlorn he looks across the table as you gently ask, “I’m guessing she left?”

“I proposed, and she said no.” A strand of dark hair falls in front of his eyes, and he rakes a hand across his head one, two, three times in frustration. “She told me she thinks she’s missing out. That she already lost most of her youth to me, waiting to finish school, when she could’ve been enjoying herself and seeing what else is out there.” He slumps forward, leaning his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. “But I can’t understand. I spent just as much time with her, and I never doubted it. To me, she was always the one.”

A quiet settles at the table, the conversational white noise of your fellow diners taking over for the moment as you soak in the sudden sense of kinship with the man in front of you—both blindsided by the partners you thought you’d spend the rest of your lives with.

“I get it,” you tell him, feeling the need to give something in return after he opened his heart to a stranger. “My ex—I thought we were about to get engaged too. I was making all of these plans in my head only to find out that we definitely weren’t on the same page.”

Gentle eyes appraise your face. “He broke up with you?”

“He cheated.”

The words taste bitter as they drop from your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” Jin says, and you can tell by his tone and the look on his face that he genuinely means it.

You chew the inside of your cheek until a canine catches the soft corner of your lip and you taste blood. “I found a ring in his desk and then found him in bed with someone else two weeks later.”

“Wow, Y/N.” He bends in as if he’s going to take your hand before seeming to think better of it and sighing. “I can’t even imagine if I had…” A shake of his head like he’s trying to clear an intrusive thought. “Puts my situation into perspective. I feel awful even comparing the two.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you quickly say. “Your hurt is just as valid as mine. But I can tell that you’re a really great guy, Jin. And if Aera can’t see it, I’m sure there’s someone out there who will cherish that.” You smile to yourself, remembering a night not too long ago with tanned skin and old photographs. “That’s the advice Taehyung gave me, at least.”

“Taehyung?”

“Oh, sorry, he’s my best friend.”

There’s an agreeable hiss as Jin sucks his teeth with a nod. “Well, he sounds like a smart man.”

“He’s my favorite person in the whole world.”

“He must be pretty great, then.”

You can’t help but to nod your head eagerly, words rushing out of you. “He cares so deeply. And he’s so, so talented, but he has a tendency to underestimate himself sometimes,” you gush. “But he’s incredible at everything he does. And just…so resilient. I’ve seen him go through things that no person should ever have to endure, and he’s never let it make him resentful. He could be having the worst day of his life, and he’d still give you the shirt off his back. I admire him more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve known each other a while then?”

“Since we were kids,” you explain. “It was lonely growing up in my house—my parents weren’t around a lot—so we’d hang out every day. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to make me smile, even by simply being there. Some days, we’d literally sit in my room doing homework silently for hours, and it just felt nice to share space with somebody else. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have him.”

Jin watches you closely. It reminds you of Namjoon’s typical evaluative expression, and you can instantly understand why they’re friends. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’ve been jabbering on, though Jin doesn’t look too bothered, asking, “And the two of you have never…?”

You sheepishly poke at your food again, red as a tomato now based on how hot your cheeks feel. “No, he doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“But you feel that way about him?”

Something strange churns low in your belly. You’re not sure why your usual denials catch on the back of your throat, but they stick there, holding your tongue hostage. It should come easily, the words, “No, just friends” a habit by now.

Why do they suddenly feel like a lie?

Thankfully, you’re saved as your phone flashes in the low light of the restaurant with an incoming call, Jimin’s face appearing on the screen.

You furrow your eyebrows at the smiling photo, Jin still watching you curiously. Jimin knows you’re on a date right now, and he’s supposed to be out clubbing with Taehyung, Maya, and Jungkook. Why would he be calling you? Could it be a case of butt dialing? Then again, maybe he’s just drunk.

Or maybe something is wrong.

Your anxiety wins out, and you make a quick apology to Jin, who kindly waves you off, before swiping to accept the call.

“What’s up? I’m on a date.”

“I know, Y/N, and I’m so sorry, but I think we need you at the apartment. Something’s happened.” Jimin’s voice is frazzled on the other end of the line, the discomfort in your stomach slipping straight to full-on nausea as your fingers tighten around the phone, skin stretching taut around your knuckles when he speaks again.

“It’s Tae.”

The club is loud, music pounding an earthquake into the walls and floors as a tangle of sweaty bodies surges around the dance floor. Jimin thinks to himself that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to get a little too old for this when the image of the writhing mob does more to set off feelings of claustrophobia than set him at ease. Still, once he and the others have made camp at a more secluded table in the back of the room, drinks in hand, he's still appreciative of the time out with his friends—even with Jungkook immediately scurrying off with a glint in his eye, target already in his sights.

"Ugh, look at him," Maya sneers, watching him chat up a blonde woman at the bar. "Shameless. Absolutely shameless."

Jimin can't resist a smirk. "Careful there, Maya, you sound jealous."

"Oh, fuck no!" she shrieks, punctuating this with a sip of her drink. "On the contrary, I hope this works out for him, and they get married and have a million babies and move far, far away. Get him out of my hair."

Both Jimin and Taehyung chuckle at that. "You do know you have the option of not sleeping with him, right?" Jimin asks.

"I take what I can get, and he's good at his craft. I'll give him that." Jimin chokes on his drink, while Taehyung only smiles, amused. "Speaking of getting, anyone catching the eye of either of you gentlemen? I'm happy to take on wing-woman duties tonight."

"No," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "I'm just here to make sure none of you do something stupid."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Translation: the love of my life is out on a date, and I'm trying not to think about it. How about you, Chim?"

"I don't know." Jimin shrugs. "Let me get a couple drinks in me and then see how I feel."

"Suit yourselves. But just remember that I offered when I ask one of you two to help a girl out." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Especially you, Tae. I know your heart is taken with your endless 'will-they-won't-they' thing with Y/N, but you could always sell the fake ex play better than Jimin here…Tae?"

But Taehyung is no longer paying attention, eyes now intensely locked on the crowd like a hawk zeroing in on prey. Maya follows his line of sight to a couple grinding on the edge of the dance floor, a dark-haired woman and a man with a distinct, bright green jacket—

"Oh my God, is that Jace?!"

Jimin's head snaps around, and even from a distance, there's no denying it. Jace tosses his head back, laughing at something the woman says, before he presses into her further, leaning back down to whisper something in her ear. Jimin quickly turns towards Taehyung, who sits terrifyingly still, eyes still zoned in on Jace and his date.

"Tae, I know you're angry. We all are," he begins, gripping Taehyung's forearm in an attempt to grab his attention. "But you cannot confront him. Not here, not now. Y/N is doing great—she's finally starting to move on. Don't undo that by poking the bear."

"He's right," Maya says, leaning in. "You're not going to accomplish anything here. It's loud, there's too many people—he'll just brush you off. And I know you care about her, Tae, but really? Not your battle to fight. Let it go."

Taehyung continues to sit in silence until Jace and the woman disappear into the crowd, and it's like a spell is suddenly lifted as he blinks rapidly at his friends. "No, you're right." He rubs a finger at the space between his eyes. "Y/N is a grown woman. She doesn't need me to protect her."

"See? A man of sense," Maya lilts. "Not like Mr. Don Juan over here about to stick his tongue into yet another college girl who thinks his immature ass counts as an ‘older man’." She nods her head towards the bar where the blonde woman has positioned herself closer to Jungkook, his hands now encircling her waist.

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow, teasing, "You’re not in college though."

Maya's jaw drops, and she puts a hand to her heart in feigned offense. "Wow! Someone's feisty tonight."

"Don't underestimate Tae when he's in one of his moods," Jimin laughs. "And don't overestimate Kook. I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't take her home."

"I'll take that action. He's got her wrapped around him already. Easy money." They shake on it, and the conversation devolves into trying to find someone in the crowd for Maya to shoot her shot with. However, in spite of her previous claim that she "takes what she can get," she finds an excuse to brush off every potential candidate ("Too short…too tall…too rich-looking?").

(Jimin suspects it may have something to do with the man who is now kissing the blonde at the bar.)

An hour later, and they're still parked at the table and on their third round of drinks. Jace has not resurfaced since they first spotted him, much to Jimin's relief, and he hopes he snuck out to a different club somewhere across town or maybe even a different country. Taehyung sports an easy smile now, alcohol loosening up his body as he laughs at a story Maya is telling about two guys who once had a fist-fight over her in this very club during college. Still, Jimin keeps an eye on their surroundings, likewise wary about what might happen if Jace spots them.

"And thankfully, the cops didn't wind up getting called, but oh God, can you imagine?" Maya howls, her and Taehyung in near-hysterics as she finishes up her story.

"Geez," Taehyung gasps, wiping at his eyes. "You're gonna make me piss my pants. I need the bathroom."

He stands from the table and wanders off in the direction of the restrooms, Maya staring at his back the whole way.

"We need to get that guy laid," she dramatically sighs.

"While he's still in crisis mode over Y/N’s breakup?" Jimin scoffs. "Good luck with that one."

"I don't get those two—I really don't." Maya rattles her perfectly-manicured nails against the table. "She's single for the first time in four years. He's been helplessly in love with her for so much longer. I don't know what he's waiting for."

"I mean it's only been what, a month?" Jimin muses. "He probably feels like it's too soon to make a move. Which is fair."

"Jimin. You're a man. You have eyes. Not only is Y/N pretty, but she has that whole—" She waves a hand in front of her face. "—'take me home to meet your parents’ energy to her. She won't be on the market for long, and you know it. She's already got this date with this Seokjin guy—and Tae told her to do it! It's like he's trying to sabotage himself! And then you have Y/N being smitten with him as always, too. I mentioned helping Tae find a hook-up earlier, and she looked like she was going to hurl."

He shrugs, tapping the side of his glass in thought. “I think they’re just scared. Imagine knowing someone for as long as they have and having to take that leap and risk losing it all.”

“You are out of your mind if you think either of them would reject each other,” Maya snorts.

“You don’t think Y/N might not want to take the chance that they fall apart? Especially after what she’s going through?”

“Tae wouldn’t do that to her,” she frigidly says, as if to challenge the very audacity of the thought.

“I’m not saying he would; I’m just saying she might be guarded.”

“So the solution is for him to help set her up with other guys at his own expense? That’s not fair to him either.”

He tilts his head in subtle agreement but adds, "Look, I want to see the two of them together as much as the next person. But maybe we need to just…let them come to it on their own? I mean, we've tried nudging them in the past, and it clearly hasn't worked. But I have faith they'll get there. Tae can be an idiot, but not that much of an id—"

His thought is cut off by screams and the sound of a commotion out on the dance floor. Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, Jimin bolts from his chair and darts into the crowd, Maya close on his heels. They shove their way through the surge of bodies—pressing back and away from the source of the disturbance—until they reach the spot where a small space has cleared out, and Jimin hears Maya swear loudly behind him.

Taehyung is knelt over Jace on the floor, his fists connecting with the latter's face and head over and over in a frenzy. Jace lies there, face bloodied and clearly dazed, his hands weakly raised in front of him in a futile attempt to shield himself from the blows, but Taehyung is relentless. His arm swings down on a repeated loop as if powered by a motor, and even though the music continues to pound above them, Jimin would swear he can hear the sound of knuckles cracking against flesh and bone. He rushes forward with Maya, both of them grabbing ahold of Taehyung's shoulders to pull him back, but he struggles against them, still trying desperately to connect his punches.

Jungkook suddenly materializes out of nowhere, a halfway-finished beer in his hand that he promptly empties over Jace’s head before grabbing Taehyung around the waist and dragging him back through the crowd. The three of them are able to muscle Taehyung towards the door, Jungkook breaking off to intercept the two bouncers who are stalking their way over as Jimin shoves Taehyung out onto the sidewalk.

"What the fuck, man!"

Taehyung's eyes are wild, his gray hoodie dotted with blood. "I wasn't finished," he says, deep voice chillingly calm.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Maya screams. "Are you trying to get yourself arrested?! Over that piece of shit?!”

“You said you were going to the fucking bathroom,” Jimin angrily adds. “How the hell did you wind up in a fistfight?!”

“I saw him. I hit him. I’m going to do it again,” Taehyung bluntly states. “Let me back in there.”

“The hell we are!” Maya exclaims, and Taehyung may have a few good inches on her, but she steps toe-to-toe with him to block his way. “He's not worth it, Tae, he's not!"

"She is!" Taehyung snaps, and Jimin notices his hands start to shake as the adrenaline begins to wear off. "She…you guys saw her that night. You saw her. In all this time, I have never seen her that broken. Never." His voice cracks, and a sheen appears behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill. "So get out of my way because I am going to make that motherfucker feel every tear I've had to wipe from her face because of him!"

"You're not." The door of the club swings shut as Jungkook joins them outside. "We're leaving now."

Taehyung takes a step forward, pleading, "Jungkook, I—"

"No, Tae, you're done." Jungkook moves to grab his arm, but Taehyung recognizes defeat and shakes him off, pulling his hood over his head and tramping off in the direction of their apartment. The others follow behind, close enough to keep a watchful eye out but with enough distance to give him space to cool down.

"How did it go inside?" Jimin asks quietly.

Jungkook pushes a hand through his hair. “We lucked out. I've worked with those guys before, and we're friendly. Gave them a quick rundown of the situation, and they're going to try and contain it, but…you know…" He shrugs. "That was technically assault."

"What that was was idiotic," Maya hisses.

"It was awesome."

"Kook!"

"What?! It was. Would've thought about taking care of it myself if Tae hadn't beaten me to it. Guy deserved it."

"At the cost of possible jail?" Jimin chimes in. "We all hate the guy, but I don't think it's doing Y/N a favor if she has to bail us out of—" He slaps a hand to his forehead. "Oh, fuck, Y/N."

The other two look at him in question, and he hesitates. "Do we…do we tell her?" he asks slowly. "She's on that date. What if it's going well?"

The three of them fall into silence, looking uneasily at Taehyung's back. He walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and heels digging into the sidewalk. Jimin watches as he takes a kick at an empty can, sending it flying into the gutter.

"It's Tae," Maya murmurs suddenly from his left. "She'd want to know."

"Shit, yeah." Jimin presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the headache that is quickly developing. "I'll call her—see if she can meet us back at the apartment."

"I'm going to call Hobi too," Jungkook says, phone already out. "I've punched someone before and can guarantee—his hand is fucked up."

Jimin nods, slowing his steps so he can fall behind the others for a bit of privacy. He doesn't know how the night spiraled so out of control, but he can't shake the existential feeling that something in the cosmos has changed.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he takes a deep breath of the night air and dials your number.

Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys outside the guys' apartment, struggling to grasp the spare that Taehyung lent you when you decided to stay with them. Jimin had said to take your time if you had to, but the thought of something being wrong with Taehyung had you in a panic. He hadn’t given you any details either, saying that they’d explain it all once you were there.

Jin had hurried you out at the distressed look on your face after you hung up, telling you that he’d take care of dinner and to go take care of your friend (you’ll later try to have Namjoon pass along some money for your meal that Jin will steadfastly refuse). Not wanting to stand and wait for an Uber, you had half-run the twelve blocks from the restaurant instead.

Out of breath, you gasp out a, "What happened?!" when Jungkook opens the door at the sound of your scrambling, not even giving him a chance to answer before you're pushing past him inside.

Taehyung sits on the edge of the couch with Hoseok kneeling in front of him, first aid kit at his feet. From here, you can see that his right hand is littered with cuts, purple bruises already forming across his swollen knuckles even as Hoseok tends to the wounds. Taehyung doesn't look up when you walk in, his eyes hooded and fixed on his hand.

"What the fuck happened?!" You repeat, but the room is quiet for a moment more as Jungkook, Jimin, and Maya all look at each other as if they don't know what to say.

Jimin breaks first. "We, ah…" he begins from his armchair seat. "We ran into your ex."

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you immediately feel dizzy. Images of Jace flood your mind: his smile, his hands, his voice—him tangled up in your bed when you got back from the beach house.

"He was at the club," Jimin continues. "And Tae…he, um—"

"He kicked his ass!" Jungkook chirps, an unmistakable hint of delight in his voice.

A tornado of feelings rips through your insides, a blend of confusion and anxiety that has you momentarily reeling. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any residual feelings for Jace, the tiniest part of your brain in a worry over the state he might be in right now. But it all melts away when you look down at the man who still won't meet your eyes, his purpling hand making your heart twist even harder.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, and Taehyung finally lifts his head to look at you. His gaze is stoic, but there's a haze of emotion behind his eyes that you can't place.

"I'm fine," he says, but his voice is tight and gravelly.

Hoseok tuts, dabbing a spot of ointment across Taehyung's knuckles. "Let's hope you stay that way. I don't think you'll need any stitches, and nothing seems to be broken, but we'll have to keep an eye on this to make sure nothing gets infected." He pulls bandages out of the first aid kit and begins wrapping Taehyung's hand.

You're afraid to ask this next question, but the words fall out anyway. "Did the police come?"

Jimin shakes his head. "We got out of there quick, and Kook talked to the bouncers that were friends of his—" Jungkook gives a two-finger salute from his perch by the kitchen. "—they said they'd try to take care of it, but who knows." He pauses before asking, "Do you think Jace would press charges?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. You've known Jace to be proud, but you're not sure if that means he'll brush this off as a simple scrap or want to save face in some way.

"If he does, I know a lawyer who might be able to help," Maya pipes up at the opposite end of the couch. "He's a…friend. Owes me a favor."

"A lawyer friend?" Jungkook asks, eyes narrowing. "Do we know him? What's his name?"

"Last name: Out. First name: Butt."

Jungkook scoffs at that, but you also hear him mutter under his breath, "He sounds like a butt."

"Well as much as I would like to stay and chat about fights and butts," Hoseok says, bandaging the last of Tae's hand and closing his kit, "Sunny and I have a meeting with the wedding coordinator in the morning so I’ve gotta go. Keep that clean, and text me immediately if anything looks or feels wrong or if the swelling doesn’t go down. I can swing by in a couple days to look at it again."

Taehyung nods silently, and Hoseok heads for the door, waving as Jungkook shouts, "Thanks, doc!"

An awkward silence sweeps the room as the door swings shut, the only sound being that of Jimin anxiously tapping his heels against the floor. Maya reads the room, looking around at each person and eventually settling on you and Taehyung. Your posture is tense as you stiffly hover by the side of the couch, shifting your feet, while Taehyung is back to avoiding eye contact.

"I think I'm going to head out too," she says, standing up and shooting Jimin a pointed look.

"Do you need a ride home?" Jungkook asks. His tone says that he's trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes betray his eagerness.

"I'm a big girl, Kook," Maya drawls. "I can get myself home."

"Would you let lawyer friend drive you home?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically, her whole head tilting back in exasperation. "Oh my God, you're insufferable. Fine."

Jungkook moves for his keys, a certain spring in his step, while Maya addresses the rest of you. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Please, please try to stay out of trouble until then. Looking at you, Tae." And then she and Jungkook exit the apartment, Maya slipping money into Jimin’s hand as she goes.

Jimin lets out a heavy sigh. "Well he's not coming home tonight." He stands and stretches his arms above his head. "I'm gonna turn in. Let me know if either of you needs something, yeah?" He shuffles away to his bedroom, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

Taehyung continues to sit still as a statue, staring at the wall, and so you take a careful seat next to him, slowly so as to not jostle the cushions too much. When he keeps his eyes straight ahead, you gently take his injured hand between both of yours. His body visibly softens as you graze your fingers back and forth across his palm.

"Tae…"

He looks at you then, and you take the time to examine his face. There's no guilt or shame in his expression, but you see a pain there that has you reaching up to rub at the creases between his eyes.

His eyelids droop down at your touch. “I’m sorry about your date.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “It wasn’t going that well anyway.”

You see a muscle jump in his jaw, concern tightening the corners of his mouth. “Did he do something?”

“Easy.” You resume your tracing of his palm. “He was very kind and respectful, and we had an oddly sweet conversation. Just realized that neither of us is in the proper mindset for it to be anything more than maybe a friendship.”

A hum comes from deep in his throat. “Alright.”

“Certainly no need for you to fight any other men on my behalf,” you say, and he shoots you an uneasy look before staring down your reflections in the dark of the TV screen.

You take it in with him, observing the shadowy duplicates who feel like they’re sitting across from you. The linked arms, the soothing press of your knee to his—your current situation may feel anxiety-inducing, but the figures mirrored in the screen look comfortable. Unified.

"Are you mad?" he whispers after a moment.

The question catches you off guard. "Why would I be?"

"I know you still care about him." Taehyung swallows, glancing down at your intertwined hands. "You wouldn't still be this upset over him if you didn't."

You let his words sink in, not altogether untrue but certainly not at the forefront of your mind right now. "I'm not worried about him—I'm worried about you." Taehyung's eyes flash at that with something akin to confusion, and you chew at your lower lip. "I've never seen you like this."

It's true. Taehyung, in spite of his mild nature, has always had a protective streak in him. One time, when the two of you were twelve, a few boys in your class had spent a week bullying you about your clothes—calling you a “spoiled, pretentious bitch”—only to come back from gym class one day to find their shirts in the garbage, cut to bits. But never—in all of your years together—have you ever known him to get violent.

"I tried to let it go. I did," Taehyung insists. He picks at his bandages, and you cover his hand with your own to still him. "I just…" His voice cracks, eyes suddenly glassy. "I couldn't stop seeing you on the bathroom floor that night."

The tears spill over, and you pull him into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gasps into your shoulder. He's trying to force the emotion down—you can feel it in the way his body trembles—and so you tangle your fingers in the spot where his hairline meets the back of his neck. You know it's always been a soothing spot for him, and his breathing slowly evens out as you coast your fingers back and forth, a rogue piece of your brain taking pleasure in the feel of his soft hair under your hands.

"Tae," you whisper again once he's calmed, and he pulls back to look at you, face entirely too close. Your heart stutters at the sheer amount of raw affection in his expression, and the words you were about to say catch in your throat along with your breath. Since when does being around him make you so nervous?

"I'm sorry," Taehyung murmurs, entirely oblivious to your current internal struggle. "I know this isn't about me—"

"No," you quickly say, snapping out of your inner turmoil. "Tae, you're allowed to have feelings, you know?" Your fingers absentmindedly run along his neck again. "And like you told me that night, I will be fine. I will be. It just…takes a bit of time. And I appreciate everything you've done to try and help get me there."

You try to convey just how much you mean this in your tone, lacing your words with every bit of gratitude you've built up over the past month (over the past years). Taehyung seems to understand, his thumb coming up to gently brush against your chin.

A glimpse of white bandages turns you sullen, raising your hands to delicately graze against their soft edges and chart the way they wrap around his knuckles. He winces as you touch them, and frustration crests like a wave in your chest; you hate that he’s hurting, hate that your own troubles are the cause of it.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” you sigh, dripping with guilt.

“I’d do anything for you.”

His words are firm, and he cants forward as he says them until his forehead rests against yours, a single shared breath haunting the space between your lips.

"I just don't ever want to see you like that again," he whispers.

And it's all too much: your pulse spikes, the blood pounding through your veins at his nearness and the honey-sweet words rolling off his tongue. This time, you're the one who can't look him in the eye as you put some distance between your bodies, abruptly shifting away from him on the couch.

"You won't."

The tension settles in thick, and Taehyung gazes at you, undoubtedly perplexed by your sudden withdrawal. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you nod at his hand. "You had an eventful day. I'm fine out here if you want to sleep?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No, uh…I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Might just stay up and watch some TV. You can take my bed, though, if you're tired."

The charged atmosphere still has you slightly shaken—your scrambled brain trying to make sense of the tingling in your stomach—but concern for Taehyung ultimately wins out, and you tell him that you'll stay up to keep him company. He doesn't argue with that, simply flips on your favorite cooking channel and drags your legs into his lap as you stretch out.

It's how Jungkook finds you as he slinks back in the next morning, smiling to himself as he drapes a blanket over your sleeping forms.

July is beginning its descent into August, stifling clouds of heat stuffing themselves into roads and alleyways, when your sign to move back into your own apartment comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook almost getting a full look at your bare ass one Saturday morning.

He immediately flips his back to you, frantically covering his face with his arms and bellowing, "I'M NOT LOOKING!" at the top of his lungs.

"Jeon, you'd better keep your eyes covered or I swear to God I'll put your nuts in a vise!"

"Is that like a kink thi—"

"Do NOT." You rush to dress yourself, giving him the signal when it's safe to turn around.

He doesn't look the least bit ashamed, the bastard.

"Not that it's necessarily unwelcome, but why were you almost naked in my living room?"

You glare at him. "Jimin is taking one of his long ass showers."

"And Tae's at work. Just use his room."

You'd thought about it, but the idea of getting naked in your best friend's bedroom had made you blush, like you'd be crossing some sort of line.

"I thought I could change fast enough," you say, not wanting to have to explain your reasoning to Jungkook of all people.

"Well you obviously thought wrong." He smirks, and you already know what's coming. "Nice bra, by the way."

You pick up a throw pillow off the couch and fling it at him. You'd been shooting for his head, wanting to smack the smug grin right off his face, but your aim is about two feet off and he catches it effortlessly anyway.

What an ass.

“No wonder Maya is always pissed at you,” you jab. “Constantly flirting with other girls.”

His demeanor shifts ever so slightly—his shoulders lower, and you can tell by the way his cockiness subtly but immediately deflates that you’ve wounded him. A pang of regret for your words hits at the sight of wide doe eyes.

“She talks about me to you?”

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible, but you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so innocent, tentative hopefulness coloring his face.

“Not, like, regularly, but sometimes, sure,” you say, not quite certain how to handle this new edition of Jungkook.

“What does she say?”

Wow, those big, round Bambi eyes are really doing work.

“Just that, you know.” You scratch at your ear, not wanting to accidentally throw Maya under any buses while also honoring your friendship with Jungkook. “You’re kind of annoying sometimes.”

That clearly doesn’t make him happy, his jaw tightening with discontent as he grimaces. “Right.”

“I mean think about it, Kook,” you say, compelled to defend Maya. “You hook up with her, and then flirt and pick up other girls right in front of her face.”

“We’re not exclusive!” he exclaims.

“Maybe she wants to be?”

“But that was her idea!”

That stops you. Not once since you found out the two of them were hooking up did it cross your mind that Jungkook would ever be the one unhappy with their arrangement. He’s never had a serious girlfriend in the entire time you’ve known him. Up until this moment, you were sure he’d be a perpetual bachelor. “What?”

“She wanted to be non-exclusive.”

“And you…don’t?”

He looks away from you, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

No. It can’t be.

“Wait a second.”

You move to stand in front of him, taking his face in your hands so you can turn him every which way, inspecting his face. Pink cheeks, a creased brow, jawline so hard you could probably cut yourself on it.

“You’re flustered!” you shriek. Jungkook quickly uncrosses his arms to bat your hands away, reeling back to put some distance between the two of you.

“I’m not!”

“You are!” you shout, following him as he roams around the room. “Jeon Jungkook is flustered!”

“Bah, you’re insane, woman.” He swings a dismissive hand even as the two of you settle in at the kitchen island.

“You’d be cute together!”

“She’s too stubborn.”

“I can totally see it!”

“It would never work.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Hey, worry about your own love life.”

He means it to be teasing, obviously not thinking too hard about his words because the second he realizes what he’s just said, he pales. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say, sobered. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still—“

“You’re right. I’m avoiding things.” You peer over at the pull-out couch, still in bed-mode with your blankets and pillows messily strewn across it. Your suitcase, meanwhile, sits off to the side with the contents tangled and half-overflowing.

In short, you’re a mess.

The guys have never made you feel unwelcome, have only ever made it clear that you are free to stay as long as you’d like, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t felt your time here beginning to weigh on your shoulders, knowing you’re only putting off the inevitable.

You feel like you’ve been (slowly, but surely) making emotional progress, but going back to the apartment might threaten to undo all of that. Although it may have felt like it at times growing up, you’ve technically never lived alone, and you’ve grown accustomed to having your people around. In fact, you thrive on it. Being around your friends is the only reason why you’ve been doing as well as you have.

You love having someone to come home to.

“I need to move back soon,” you tell Jungkook. “But returning to the apartment is actually terrifying.”

He considers you for a moment, leaning his weight back on the granite countertop. “Do you know what helps me when I’m not confident about something?”

“Getting a stranger to moan your name?”

“Well, yes, but aside from that.” You shrug, and he grins. “I just do it.”

“Wow, Jeon,” you say, with the appropriate amount of eye roll. “Reaching real deep on that one.”

“I mean it!” he urges. “Just need to rip off the band-aid. The longer you dwell on it, the harder it will be in the end.”

That’s…oddly decent advice.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might have a point,” you say, somewhat thrown off by this flustered, good-advice-giving version of your friend.

“And speaking of things being harder, that last bit of advice also goes for forepl—“

“Aaaaaaand it’s ruined.”

“I’m just saying it has multiple applications!”

“Yeah, it’s time for me to move back out,” you say. “I can’t live with you anymore.”

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing at his jaw. “Tae is going to be devastated though.”

Your head jerks around. “What? Why?”

“Because he likes having you here,” he says, looking at you like you just asked him what color the sky is. “The guy punched out your ex for you. I think it’s safe to say he enjoys having you around.”

You wince at the mention of the club, a nerve jumping in your chest every time you’re reminded that Taehyung almost got arrested defending your honor. Nothing had ever come of the fight, so you’re assuming Jace has chosen to just let it go, and for that, you’re thankful. You never would have been able to live with it if Taehyung had suffered serious consequences over your own personal crisis.

You’d do the same thing for him, sure. But that’s different.

“Jimin and I will miss you too, of course,” Jungkook continues. “And I’m still kind of sad I didn’t get my own shot in on that asshole that night. Dumped a beer on him though.” He smiles at you like he’d be wagging his tail if he had one.

“My hero.”

“Yeah, the mayor said I’m getting a medal.”

“Oh, really? When’s the ceremony.”

“Sunday afternoon.”

You snap your fingers. “Ah, I can’t make it. I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, a super important thing. Way more important than your thing.”

“You’re a heart-breaker, Y/N. My ego will never recover.” He grins again, playfully rapping his fingers against the counter as he stands to grab a drink.

“Yep,” he says, voice muffled on the other side of the fridge door. “Definitely going to miss you around here.”

As Jungkook predicted, Taehyung frowns when he gets home from work and you tell him about your plans to move back into your apartment at the end of the week, perhaps sensing your apprehension about returning to the scene of the crime. He insists he’ll come with you and sleep over the first night for support and to make sure you’re okay being back there.

“Whatever you need,” he says. “You’re not going to face it alone.”

Your apartment is pitch black when you swing the door open, the quietness hovering in the air making you feel like you're suffocating. You flick on the light, and you're struck by how much emptier the space is. Jace definitely came by at some point as all of his things are no longer present: his gaming system, his turntable, the tiny rhino statue he had picked out on your last vacation together. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a glint of a key on the kitchen counter.

Taehyung tries to give you space by busying himself—turning on lights and opening cabinets in a seeming attempt to take inventory of what Jace left behind. He steals glances at you every now and then as you slowly move through the living room, hands reaching out to lightly brush at the furniture with no real goal in mind. This is supposed to be your home, but you feel like a stranger—the ghosts of late nights binging TV shows, giggling wildly at inside jokes, promising forever lurk around every corner.

When you take a hesitant step inside the bedroom, your breath catches in your throat and you choke on a sob. The bedsheets are still in a tangle, a relic of that night seven weeks ago when your whole world fell apart.

Taehyung senses something is wrong and bolts to your side in an instant, hands steadying you where you slump against the doorframe. He turns you in his arms, and his fingers come up to cradle your face in his direction.

"Don't look at that, look at me," he murmurs, thumbs rubbing away the tears that have begun to fall. "What do you need?"

To run, to hide, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and scream your lungs out until the pain subsides. But you can't. Instead you focus on the brown of Taehyung's eyes, let it ease you back down until your breathing steadies and your heart rate levels.

"A shower," you finally choke out. "I need a shower."

He takes a final swipe at your tear-stained cheeks and offers up a small smile. "Okay. Where are the towels?"

You nod in the direction of the closet as Taehyung ushers you out towards the bathroom. It feels empty in here too, the single toothbrush staring you down from its holder and counter notably absent of shaving cream and hair gel. You tear your eyes away from the vanity to start the water running, and Taehyung pops up a moment later with a towel in hand and a fresh pair of pajamas he must've found in your dresser.

"Take your time," he says. "And if you need anything, anything at all, just give a shout. I'll be right out here." His cheeks take on a hint of pink when you quirk an eyebrow at him. "I'll close my eyes. Promise."

You thank him as he steps out so you can strip and get into the tub. The water is set to a near-scalding temperature and you welcome the sting, scrubbing away at your skin as if trying to erase all of the memories that are once again flooding back.

Your first date at the art museum, where he pointed to a painting of an extravagant rose garden and said it reminded him of you.

Your first kiss under the stars, the two of you losing track of time as he pulled you in again and again.

Endless Saturdays wandering around the city, not caring where you wound up as long as his hand was in yours.

Planning your someday wedding, his whispered promises of, Soon, beautiful, soon, sealed with a signature wink.

Picking out names for children who would never be born.

The tears are pouring out of you now, but you let them. One cry, you promise yourself. One final, good cry to wash it all away, and then it'll be time to let go for good.

You don't know how long you spend in the shower, but by the time you step back out into the living room, Taehyung has already set himself up with a makeshift bed on the couch. He lifts his head when he sees you and, taking note of your red-rimmed eyes, gets up to pull you into a hug.

For a moment he just holds you, arms banding tight around your shoulders before he says, "I cleaned out your fridge. Most of it was spoiled." He hesitates, pulling back to look at you. "And I changed the bedsheets." A hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I actually ran downstairs and threw them straight in the dumpster, I hope that's okay."

His thoughtfulness overwhelms you, and you'd probably start crying again if not for the fact that you don't think you have a single tear left in your body. As you gape at him, Taehyung interprets your silence for disapproval and quickly adds, "I'll buy you new ones."

You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back into you, sinking your face into the crook of his neck as you whisper a, "Thank you."

He seems to falter for a second before returning the hug, and as you give him one last squeeze he steps back, scrutinizing you more closely. "You look like you could use some sleep."

"Yeah," you admit, eyeing the cramped set-up on the couch. "Is that going to be okay for you though?"

"Absolutely," he chimes, bounding over to the couch to settle back in. He has to bend his long legs to fit, toes pressing into the fabric of the arm. "See? Comfy." When he catches the uneasy look on your face, he says, "Honestly. Y/N. Nowhere else I'd rather be."

You give him a hesitant nod—you know it'd be useless to try to convince him otherwise. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" He flips onto his back, popping an arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

You cross the room slowly and, just like last time, find yourself pausing at the threshold of your bedroom. The bed is no longer a mess, fresh sheets now stretched neatly across the mattress, but as you look at it, it strikes you that you have never slept here alone. And while you may have committed yourself to moving on from this moment forward, you know this has the power to break you. Tomorrow, maybe, but right now, you're nowhere near ready for this.

You look back and forth between your bed and where Taehyung is lying, his legs now half-draped over the couch's arm, and you make up your mind.

"Tae?"

"Hmm?" He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at you.

"Can you sleep in here with me?"

He blinks, jaw dropping in surprise. "Uhh…are you sure?"

His hesitancy has you losing some of your nerve, and you have to look away. "I just don't think I can…" You purse your lips and shake your head. "You don't have to. I just—"

"No, it's okay. We can—yeah," he blurts, already standing up.

He sidesteps you in the doorway, taking your hand and pulling you into the room after him with a soft smile. "C'mon. Like I said, whatever you need."

Taehyung pulls back the covers so the two of you can crawl in. It's awkward at first, both of your bodies lying stiff across from each other. Physical affection has never been altogether uncommon for the two of you, but this—lying in the bed you used to share with your ex—feels like crossing a line of intimacy that you've never experienced with him before.

But then Taehyung laughs, reaching over to take your hand in his. "I know we’re a long way from high school, but we can do this, yeah? Not like we haven’t shared a bed before."

It breaks the tension, and you giggle back, looking down at where he's laced your fingers together. His knuckles are still lightly bruised with touches of yellow and green, and you run your free hand over the marks, smile drooping.

"I'm really sorry about this," you murmur.

"I'm not." Taehyung's forehead creases. "I'd do it again."

"Please don't," you say quickly. "If you see him again, just let it go."

He frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but you cut in. "Not because I care about him. I just don't want you getting into any trouble on his account. He's not worth it."

Taehyung briefly clenches his jaw but eventually gives you a slow nod. "Well I think my point was made anyway."

"Thank you," you say, pulling his hand up to brush a light kiss to his bruises. "I know I keep saying that, but I really can't tell you enough."

"You don't need to thank me. I know you'd do the same." His face breaks out into one of his boxy smiles. "Remember when Luna broke up with me, and I barely left the apartment for two weeks? You stopped by every day to make sure I was still eating."

You hum at the memory. It had been two weeks of dropping off take-out and commandeering the boys' kitchen to make large batch meals, even harassing Jimin to give you regular updates on whether or not Taehyung had eaten lunch. Jace had given you grief about it at the time, whining that Taehyung was a grown man who could take care of himself, especially when the two of you had just moved in and were still working on unpacking.

“And my birthday junior year of high school.” He’s quiet as he remembers, eyes fixed on some spot over your shoulder as if he’s rewatching the moments on film. “You got me those shoes I’d been absolutely enamored with.”

His old ones had been falling apart entirely, soles curling away from the fabric like orange peels in the sun. Barely even looking away from the bottle at that point, there was virtually no chance that Taehyung’s father would give him enough money to buy him new ones at the thrift store, let alone the high-end sneakers you’d always catch him subtly staring at every time the two of you wandered around the mall after school.

So of course, you’d done the only logical thing and surprised him with them for his birthday, the look of complete elation on his face making your heart leap in ways you didn’t even know it could.

A touch of joy slips into his expression too now as he picks another recollection out of his brain. "Or that time in college when I got stuck in that bathroom across campus with no toilet paper and you left class to break into the men's room and bring me some."

You scrunch your nose at that, saying, "We swore never to talk about that again!"

Taehyung laughs. "I know, but what I'm trying to say is that that's what we do. We take care of each other."

The truth of the statement hits you like a truck as you're suddenly anchoring yourself in Taehyung's eyes again.

It's as though every moment of the last seventeen years comes rushing back to you all at once—every joy, every celebration, every tear, every heartbreak. And at your side in each memory are the same brown eyes you're staring into right now.

A feeling that you're too scared to place stirs in your chest and has you panicking, and you can see that Taehyung isn't unaffected by the moment either as his lips part and he studies you with a newfound softness. When he reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear, the feeling in your chest swells and snaps, and you bury your face in his chest, tears starting afresh, as he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm here," he whispers. "I'm right here."

You press your hands into his back, clinging to him, and hope the pressure conveys what your words can't—what you don't even have a name for yet.

Your sobs subside after a while, but you stay wrapped up in each other. Right before you fall asleep, one final flashback of Jace leaks into your mind—words he had spit at you before leaving this place that night.

I've never been your priority. No one can be. Not when he's around.

It's hard work dragging yourself awake the next morning, your eyelids heavy and begging you to close them for just five more minutes.

But you realize that the side of the bed next to you is not only empty—it's cold. Reaching out to your nightstand, you flip your phone over to check the time. 10:42. The morning is practically gone.

You pull yourself out of bed and shuffle into the living room where you spot a figure standing in the kitchen. Taehyung is busy at the stove, white t-shirt tight across his shoulders as he works, humming to himself, and you stop for a moment to take him in (was he always this broad?).

"Good mood today?" you say. He turns, flashing you a smile over his shoulder.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" He catches himself, realizing he might sound a little too chipper for the occasion and quietly asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," you shrug, and it's the truth. The seemingly endless crying the night before had been exhausting, but it also provided you with something of a catharsis, leaving you feeling almost refreshed today.

"Good," Taehyung says. He nods to the plate on the counter next to him. "I made pancakes."

"The chocolate chip ones?"

He places a hand over his heart and looks at you in mock offense. “Of course. What do you take me for?”

You laugh and wander over to the dining room table where a bright bouquet of lilies now sits in a vase. Pinching one of the delicate, silky petals between your fingers, you ask, "What's this?"

Taehyung glances over his shoulder again, blushing slightly when he sees what you're looking at. "Oh, I um—" He fumbles for his words. "I ran out to get you some groceries and saw the florist next door. Figured they could, you know, brighten things up in here a little."

"You didn't have to do that," you tell him softly, but he brushes you off with a shrug.

"I wanted to."

You reach for the petals again, the bright orange seeming to cast a glow on your skin like a sunset. “You know these look like—“

“The ones you used to collect on our walks growing up?” He chuckles at your stunned silence. “Yeah, I know.”

It still surprises you sometimes—the depth of his thoughtfulness and how well he knows you—and before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping up behind him at the stove. You wind your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead to the space between his shoulder blades and allowing your breath to warm the cotton of his t-shirt. It’s soft—intimate—and you feel Taehyung tighten up under your touch, his entire body going rigid.

“Y/N—“

“You know you mean the world to me, right?”

It’s a near-whisper—you sound like you’re on the brink of tears—and maybe that’s why Taehyung’s hard lines soften at the sound of your voice, turning in your arms so he can reciprocate the embrace and press a cheek to your temple. He doesn’t say a word, just holds you tight as you lean your face into his chest and inhale the comforting scent of pancake batter, laundry detergent, and honey-scented soap.

You think you could stay here forever.

Last night’s mood seems to linger in the air like little beams of light that warm your skin in the best way. You recall falling asleep in these same arms, this same scent wrapped around you—how it was easily the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

It's different, this space between you now. Has been since the night in the bathroom. You and Taehyung may have gone through a metric fuck ton of pain over the course of your lives, but there's no denying that this breakup is pushing your friendship into a new form, molding it into a new shape.

You're too nervous to dwell on it, but damn, if you aren't going to take advantage of how good it feels to cling to him right now. You want to wrap yourself around him like a koala—draw your legs around his waist and bury your nose into the hollow space at his collarbone.

What a great way to scare him off too, your brain says, even as your heart argues, He's stuck with you through worse.

You're tempted—seriously considering dragging him over to the couch so you can snuggle him properly—when the fire alarm goes off, the pancake on the stove burnt and blackened.

Taehyung releases you in a flash, spinning to shut off the burner and pull the pan off the stove as you rush to the hallway closet for a broom. You swing it underneath the alarm until the smoke clears, and the device stops its blaring shrieks. As silence filters back in, Taehyung tips the burnt pancake into the trash, the previous moment ruined.

"That'd be our luck to burn this place down your first day back," he jokes.

You tip your head up, already thinking this may have been a bad idea and wishing you were back at the guys' place. "Maybe not the worst thing in the world."

He approaches you slowly but deliberately, raising a long finger to press at your chin until you've lowered your gaze enough to look him in the eyes. Taking your hands in his—gently, so gently—he says, "We're going to breathe life back into this place. I'll be here every day if you want me to be."

"You d—"

"I will. Or Maya or Jimin or Kook." He moves his head so you're forced to look at him even as you try to look away, confronted with the raw sincerity in his eyes. "We'll drown out the bad memories with new good ones."

His voice is CPR, pressing warmth into your chest, and just like that, the suffocating walls around you open up a bit. You can see it, the two of you sitting on the couch watching TV—or maybe you watching him play one of his games—your other friends occasionally dipping in and out as they please.

More orange lilies on the table.

You pull your hands from his and drift to the kitchen counter, picking up the glinting silver key sitting on its surface. Turning back to Taehyung, you press it into his palm, and he stares at you, eyes wide with wonder.

"You're sure?"

You nod, and he curls his fingers around the key like it's something delicate—handling it with the same care you once saw him give a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest in the park when you were thirteen.

"Every day," he promises, pinky wrapping around yours and squeezing. "Just say the word."

NEXT

a/n: likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated! <3

taglist is open!

[gritsandbrits]

Since today marks the 40th anniversary of thomas and friends (the show) I'd like to share personal story.

I first got into thomas when i was a little girl. I wasn't scared of the sudden closeups on the characters faces, or the crashes or the unmoving expressions. It was quite the opposite, i was fascinated. There was something about the vibe that drew me in. It wasnt a cartoon but it wasn't realistic either. The characters didnt have traditional voice actors yet they had a personality and charm that made me eant to see what will these guys do next.

We had tapes of the Alec Baldwin and George Carlin narrations, I used to play Make Some Happy on Repeat. I think i still have it, it's in storage and i hope to burn in onto a disc one day.

I was surprised when the show transitioned to CGI. But i still wasn't entirely against it. If anything i wanted to see where it would go. I was pleased when the show finally had dofferent VAs for the characters. Narration was great and all but i loved the idea of the guys having their own VAs and got a little tired of the female characters sounding the same. Eve. When the show started to get bad, even during the Dharon Miller era, i still got my ass up as 7 am in the morning to watch episodes on pbs kids every Sunday. I didn't care. I just liked watching colorful trains and loved seeing new characters and locations.

Thomas gotten me through some pretty rough patches in childhood, and I had a lot. It showed me a world where problems can be eaisly fixed and mistakes arent the end of the world. It taught me it was okay to ask for help, that i shouldn't tackle everything by myself. Now, you might be surprised giving i tend to criticize a lot of stuff but I am also someone who embraces change. In a way, the shoes ups and down taught me sometimes you just have ti acceot everything will not be exactly the same as you want.

It's this mindset that's currently helping me through another rough time. I admit, i was too hard all all Engins go, but watching some if the episodes I came to actually like some of it. Thought it probably helped that i got turned off by the massive backlash, I felt other fans were too harsh to the point of bein downright gross. I don't want to be like them. So i had to let go of that anger and see the positive AEG has. Ironically it was this specific incarnation that really got me into drawing fanart, which was how i came up for my Shining Time Station reboot.

Without thomas, i wouldn't have met my friends. I wouldn't have gotten back into art, since i have drawn some ttte art and even rewriting the magic railroad. Speaking of, TATMR got me into fantasy, I remmberthe first time I watched it was on HBO kids and was intrigued because it literally never referenced in the shoe and i didnt grow up with Shining Time. For all its faults I still enjoy the movie. I'm even making a custom ken doll of Junior conductor. I credit thomas for helping me find my true love with Junior, i dont care if he's fictional, he's my f/o and I care about him greatly.

As for the blue man himself, I relate to thomas a lot. We're both bossy and tempered, but we're also friendly and hardworking. We slip up and pick ourselves back up. I guess, seeing thomas handling failure has gotten me to reconsider how I've been viewing life and needing yo stop defining myself on my faults. He's flawed yet still likable and beloved, so maybe, I can have a chance too.

I used to think the color blue is overrated, moresore than pink, but thanks to rediscovering Thomas, I now admit I love the color blue. It reminds me of thomas and how i should work on improving myself and my worldviews.

So, thank you thomas and friends. Thank you for being in my childhood and reminding me Adulthood should'nt have to be a cesspool of misery. I can't wait to see what the next 40 years would bring!

[doveabovetheworld]

Greta Van Fleet as…

Holidays!!!

Josh;

We all know how bright and eye-catching Josh is so based off if that he is definitely New Years Eve (or pretty much anything with fireworks but New Years specifically). Josh is definitely the type of person to invite his whole family and his friends over on New Years and just party and get drunk with them. He’s such a loud and life living type of person I just think that he plans huge parties for New Years. He also thinks so positively about New Years thinking about how there is so much that he can do and that he can be around people he loves and cares about, including his fans. Josh is also the type of person to kiss you right when the ball drops and tell you how much he can’t wait to spend the new year with you. He would be cheering and running around the house hugging everyone letting them know how much he loves them. He would definitely take this holiday as a chance to give people presents (even though Christmas just passed but thats okay) and the chance for him to tell people how much he cares and loves them.

Jake;

Jake gives off huge Halloween vibes. He would love to buy bags and bags of candy to eat and hand out to kids around the neighborhood while he’s watching a horror or halloween themed movie like Hocus Pocus! I feel like his favorite halloween movie would probably be something like Corpse Bride or maybe even Friday the Thirteenth. Jake’s personality is very quiet but loud at the same time (if that makes sense?) and he is pretty chill which in my mind resonates with Halloween a lot. He also reminds me of black cats and he would love to do pumpkin carving one night sometime before Halloween. Jake is definitely one of those type of people to buy those fake skeletons and dress it up and put it on the porch of the house just to be funny. He also would want to dress up as a pirate (AKA Jack Sparrow), a knight, a cowboy, or even Oliver Reed! I feel like if you asked him to do a couples costume he’d say he wouldn’t really want to but says yes because he loves you but when you guys are actually getting the costume and dressing up, he’s super passionate about it and gets into character.

Sammy;

Sammy is super romantic and sweet which makes me think he’d be Valentines Day. When Valentines comes around, he would go all out with it like giving you silly gifts or taking you out to a super fancy restaurant and buying you your favorite treats! He would definitely add in some fun activities to do throughout the day and would spend so much money on you just because he thinks so highly of you. He is such a kind and loving person that you can’t help but smile because of him! He would take everything super serious on Valentines like he would have a whole day planned out just for you too. I think that he would attempt to make cookies or cupcakes or something like that and ultimately fail (almost burning down the house in the process) and he would go to the store and say he baked them himself but you know damn well he’s just trying to impress you but it’s still a cute act of kindness from him that you can’t help but smile.

Danny;

Danny is definitely Christmas. He is such a warm person so to be with him during winter and Christmas sounds so comforting. He would love to do all the things they do in the Hallmark Christmas romance movies (as well as binge watch them) and to be honest I would live for that cus that’s one of my guilty pleasures. But Danny would make you hot cocoa, take you ice skating, and play in the snow with him and whenever you get cold he would give you one of his warm sweaters. The way that he would buy ornaments that reminded him of you and tell you all about it as you two put them on the Frasier fir tree you have in your living room. The presents he would get you would be stuff like records you want, jewelry that has your guy’s initials, and even something as cute as a mini card he made just for you. The way he would be so proud and happy when you see the presents and light up is so unreal. He would honestly be the best person to spend Christmas with and no one can tell me otherwise.

Moodboards made by my bestie; @radyouthcherryblossom

[jams-sims]

Chatterbox and pretty much all of the clowns rp has been so peak as of late. You know it bad when you have your tv working as a second screen to watch another person point of view. Nakkida has become one of my favorites, her music work makes every scene so intense. Wayne finally pulling himself together and become the youngest child to Tessa.

Chatterbox and Kirk give off mad eldest son vibes. Twinkles refuses to be part of the family so he is designated childhood bestfriend.

As a Chattercups girly, it does feel like we've reached a point where it doesnt really matter if Ray comes back or not. Chatty and Jagger his alt self seems committed to the idea of burning the funhouse down. The spiral may have started with her but it has now become something else. We have like mega plot points like Sooty dead husband, which was just a helpful way of killing a character who was already dead fully off to free the Mun. In short Dick was pretty much never coming back and this just helped the rp, like putting gasoline on a fire. Plus Clowns were never a family, i can write a whole essay on it. They were more like a compound of people stuck together through mutual truama. You cant call yourself a family when the leader hates your guts and doesnt mind if you get killed. But draws the line infavor of others. Your just a group with a bunch of smaller groups with a hierarchy issue.

Idk if I want to believe Cups/Rae are done done rp wise. I think they had a solid plan before the drama happened, which would leave a bad taste in anyone mouth. Then they said "oh once a big update drop she'll be back." But lets be honest I dont think CG is coming back (that just a gut feeling i would be happy to be wrong). An irl Rae is too busy making her own company, staring in movies to crave out time for rp. Especially if she's not vibing with it, plus its unfair to leave other characters in limbo just because of ONE person. So i can see why we're pushing forward as fast and as hard as we are going.

I would love some type of resolution to the ship tho. Besides it becoming," Cups comes back nothing is the same" and we call off the wedding and everything just to end it. Idk maybe its copium, but because the rp is so intense, it feels like she could drop in anytime and it would just explode so much shit. An I think thats what sucks the most because it is prime rp moments, like it is rainning diamonds thats how good it is. An I dont want it to be missed if Rae not gonna do the rp anymore. Just give me an ending that does not just end in "chatterbox gets his mask back" or "chatterbox in his jagger state kills cups."

No I need Ray to come back and knock jagger out and take him out to the beach and drown him repeatedly until Chatty brain becomes a scrambled mess and all his different personsilty mix together like soup. He doesnt get the mask back, I can take or leave the wedding. But I would find it funny if Ray had to tie up this new chatterbox to marry him and then kill him' i just think Ray personailty could scare Chatty back to "normal"

Honestly I got into gta nopixel because of Chattetcups, like legit it took a singke tiktok and I was in. I just want a satisfying ending.

[hologramcowboy]

At the recent convention Jensen was supposed to sing at the Saturday night concert but unexpectedly didn’t.

People are joking that it’s because people make fun of his ‘pornstash’ and he was annoyed, but I’ve just been listening to the recent Kings of Con podcast called ‘Beef’.

Rob mentions in detail a chat thread where he maybe upset Jensen as he said no to Jensen’s suggestion for a medley, as Rob didn’t want to learn too many new songs, as was already struggling. (I have a friend who also suffered a stroke who finds this kind of thing difficult and so think this could be a real challenge for Rob now).

Rich was joking that he had offended Jensen. And then Jensen didn’t actually sing at the event for some reason. It all sounded kind of petty if that was the case and I’d like to think that wasn’t the reason.

If you have chance to listen to it I’d be interested what you think.

I personally think it’s wise to protect Jensen from singing at the moment as he seems drunk, can’t remember the words, sometimes sings badly when I know he can sing well, and wanders off when he feels like it. I could never ever cast someone like that in a performance after seeing that and worry how it looks to others.

There are also some details about Cliff not letting other cast members into J2’s private green room at times that do make it seem that they were maybe as close to the cast as I thought.

I want to believe the best, but these stories make me wonder.

That stache or whatever he wants to call it just gave him the creepiest vibes. As an actor you need a thick skin. People might not like your outfit, words, make-up, etc etc but that should never affect your professionalism and, if it does, then please find another career. You clearly are not in it for the craft.

I am going to be bluntly honest, I am super happy Jensen did not take the stage because, and I cannot stress thiss enough, unless you are putting high quality performances out there please don't put out any at all or you risk burning your image and career. Jensen has done enough drunken, mindless performances where he sang off key and was clearly in a highly altered state. My guess is his team probably advised him to take it easy. I do think he was probably too wasted to perform, let's face it he's proven time and time again he cannot seem to get through a con without altering his state and that is such a terrible example for his fans. I adore his voice but it's been years now that he's been delivering extremely low quality performances in an altered state and that does not honor his career, fans nor talent.

As for Rob, I can't even remotely imagine why watching out for his health would be offensive to Jensen. So I am going to withhold commenting on that and just say that I hope Rob chooses health over those who gaslight him. Health is everything.

I don't get the fans that feel happy in a room where Jensen is wasted out of his mind and screaming off key instead of singing. It's like going to the zoo and watching your favorite animal walk in circles due to being driven crazy by the small cage they are kept in and being happy about it, not even caring about animal mistreatment. What's worse is that they sexualize those peformances during which he is clearly self destructing.

If any of you are singers or performers on every level please choose to believe in yourself and train rather than using alcohol to numb yourself. Don't kill your talents, nurture them, they are a gift you can share with the world. 🧡

[hasturswig]

I am losing my mind (again) about the fic when the world has dealt its cards. bravo.

thank you for making me feel ✨BUTTERFLIES✨, wow!!

I personally have been feeling a lot of anxiety preparing for season 2, and seriously this was like a gift to me as I have often pondered just posted "I have so much anxiety about this someone please console me" - this fic did just that. Because I remembered that no matter what happens, the dumb angel and not angel love each other :) It'll be fiiine.

this is the lovely gorgeous writing that made my heart unwind, firstly (this isn't an exact quote I'm sorry) "who was it that pleased the angel so?" sooo sweet

and gosh secondly...

As they watched, the angel new to Earth could feel what sparked between them, brighter to their senses than everyone around them, shining, splendid, strong, and beautiful. They felt its resonance within them, knew it as they knew their very essence.

Love.

Enormous love, ancient, potent, and very well established. Together, they were glorious, their heads so near to one another, the halo of bright curls tilted towards a burning crown of fire. Here were two beings alike, but not alike, complementing each other. There was strength there, and endurance, fidelity and loyalty. Whatever brought the interloper here this damp and chilly night, it would be better faced with these two on their side.

And the scene with their hands on the umbrella.... oh my gooooshh!!!! 😭 It's so innocent and sweet but it's so meaningful and precise and ohhh the part where Crowley is feeling so protective. Seriously on my "wishes and predictions" twt acc I wanted the new angel to feel the love between them and this just completely filled that part of my heart up to the brim for me. Thank you soooo much. I know of course this wasn't written *for* me, but isn't it such a lovely thing when a fic fits with your heart so well that it feels that way??

You are a talented writer and I'm so happy I follow u on tumblr! Lol! I'm like half star struck! 🤓💜

Okay back to being Super Normal Totally about the Michael sheen and David tennant-looking creatures... thank you for reminding me of your sweet fix it literally it cured my season 2 anxiety that has been keeping me up at night ❤️ sending u hopes for a fanatic day and a warm feeling like I had reading when the world has dealt its cards

sry this is a rambling nutso mess u don't have to post this LOL I am maybe embarrassing sorry ❤️❤️ I don't think this properly conveyed the many layers of your writing but I hope you Feel The Vibes

Gosh, this was the sweetest message to receive today! Thank you so much @rosetylahcrowleyinthetardis that is incredibly kind of you! I suspect I am wrong about just about everything here, but I absolutely love the idea that the angel will feel the love between Aziraphale and Crowley. Maybe Muriel will too, that would be incredibly cute. Thank you for reading my story and for getting in touch! ❤️

[queer-reader-07]

i think, at the end of the day, i will always choose to find the joy in media. i will always choose to read what i think i'll enjoy regardless of what is currently popular. i'll read 8 books by the same author in a row because i like their vibe and i don't care if that's considered odd. i'll always want to talk about why i love a story. why this book or that show or a movie means the world to me. i'll always jump at the opportunity to give people media recommendations because i want to share the stories i love with other people.

yes there's heartbreak in much of the media i consume. yes i have cried and sobbed and felt because of books and movies and shows. but there is always a thread of joy stitching me together. that thread of joy and hope and joyful hope that i cannot ever manage to let go of. even when i feel like the world is burning around me and i'm worried that my loved ones won't come home alive, even when i'm worried that my friends and i will be made illegal by a government that despises us. there is still joy and hope within me.

i will still find that joy and hope in the shows i watch and the books i read.

i will still read mason deaver's books and lose my ever living mind over the queer love stories and the trans joy. i will still watch the new doctor who special and be amazed at the displays of radical self love and the power of platonic love. i will still pick apart and analyze books like babel by rf kuang and dune by frank herbert because i find it to be genuinely fun. i will still post my silly book reviews and my good omens shitposts and my metas that are barely analysis compared to some people on here (truly i love you all meta analysts the work you put in is amazing)

because why would i choose to find the negatives in everything i consume? why would i choose to engage in bad faith with others? why would i make myself upset when i can choose to find joy?

people act like happiness should be inherent, that it should just be and if it's not? then something's wrong with you. and maybe they're right, but maybe it's also ok to make the conscious choice of happiness. maybe it's better to choose happiness when anger isn't the only option.

my brain is fucked up and i don't think it will ever be "normal." i find it far to easy to fall into pits of nihilism and despair and cynicism. and if there is one thing that keeps me going it is my ability to find hope, and with that hope find pockets of joy in the world.

media helps me find those joys. i actively search for and consume media i believe i will enjoy. i actively search for the things i like in media. because it is such a waste of my time to read and watch things i don't like. it is such a waste of my time to engage in bad faith with media.

yeah. i think, at the end of the day, i will always find the joys i can in media.

[sesamestreep]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thank you @philtstone for tagging me! 🥰

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

22, apparently 😇

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

223,131 📝

3. What fandoms do you write for?

super indie small fandoms like Star Wars and Marvel, with a side of some Sorkin shows (🤧) and the occasional Natasha Pulley novel with three fans and a paperclip as the reader base.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

and never ever watch the ten o’clock news (Rogue One, Jyn & Bodhi BFF fic/Psych AU, no one is more shocked than me this is my number 1 fic but it’s also my oldest one on AO3, so there’s something to seniority??)

don’t think about it all too much (Rogue One, Jyn/Cassian, The Newsroom AU)

how many acres, how much light (Rogue One, Jyn/Cassian + Crew as Family, Everybody Lives type deal that I wrote for my darling @philtstone so thanks buddy 😊)

i know the kind of home we’d share (Rogue One, Jyn/Cassian, North & South AU, another shocker on this list tbh but also an oldie)

of all the strangers, you’re the strangest that I see (Rogue One, Jyn/Cassian, Medieval-ish Arranged Marriage AU)

RIP TO MY OTHER FANDOMS I GUESS??

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, always, even though sometimes it takes me a while (big time executive dysfunction around these parts). I’m generally the worst when it comes to leaving comments on fic I love because I get nervous and can never come up with something sane and/or worthwhile to say, so I try to show my appreciation for the lovely people who leave me (the unworthiest of cads) lovely comments by at least replying and saying thank you!

6. What is a fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I guess that would be under the light of a lonely star because it ends on a sort of cliffhanger and one half of the pairing still doesn’t know the other person’s name (which commenters have pointed out was cruel of me and they’re right). I do hope to continue it someday and make it into a full series of some kind but I’m not sure when that will happen. Runner up is damned to pining through the windowpanes, but it’s maybe more wistful slow burn vibes than pure angst. I leave it to the reader to decide.

7. What’s a fic you've written with the happiest ending?

most of them are pretty happy, though I do think I like to leave characters on the precipice of happiness rather than like…on their wedding day or whatever with everything wrapped up perfectly. For argument’s sake, and because I doubt I’ll get to shout it out elsewhere, I’ll say fast forward and we’re taking on the world together because it’s a series post-script about how great the characters lives became later on, which is pretty darn happy.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! I’m very lucky. I do get some (maybe not intentional) backhanded compliments here and there but commenting etiquette can be a tough line to walk sometimes, so I try to imagine people are trying to be nice overall.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not that I’ve published. It just hasn’t been something I felt drawn to write so far. I have some WIP fics that might be classified that way, though… 👀

10. Do you write crossovers?

I write a lot of AUs but not crossovers, if we’re defining it as “characters from property A interact with characters from property B, and their universes are not canonically connected at all.” It’s just not my jam to write, though I’ve certainly enjoyed reading it in other people’s work!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t believe so!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yep! I co-wrote summer came like cinnamon, so sweet with the talented amazing showstopping @firstelevens this past summer after I bullied her into letting me write some stuff for the bake-off AU and it’s my pride and joy and the most fun I’ve ever had writing a fic.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I think from a purely numerical standpoint, it’d have to be Jyn/Cassian but…. I don’t really have a favorite?? There’s a ton of ships I love that I’ve written long fics for and tons I’ve written random one off prompt fills on here that I’ve never posted to AO3 and tons that I love that I’ve never written for, either because it has never occurred to me or because no one’s ever asked! So yeah, deeply bisexual answer, but I cannot choose.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

For stuff with already published installments, I would love to finish my Graceland series some day, add to my Cloak and Dagger AU some more like people have asked, and figure out where to take follow me like the moon eventually, but…my motivation for Rogue One fic has significantly decreased for a variety of reasons (none of which are lack of reader response because god, rogue one fans are the best readers out there, they always show up for the creators in the fandom)

My even more real answer is that I genuinely never expect to finish anything I start 🙈 [bruce banner voice] that’s my secret, cap…

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, I think? It’s my favorite thing to write so maybe that’s just vanity. I also think I’m good at pastiching different styles, which is helpful since I write a LOT of AUs. Also, recently I’ve been taking a lot more risks in terms of format and style in my fic and I do think I’ve proven more successful at it than I expected to be!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Uh….follow through??? 🫠 I get very distracted easily and tend to have like 200 WIPs at a given time, and maybe if I could focus more or impose any sort of structure on my brain, I would finish more stuff but I am doing this for fun so I believe in following my bliss to an extent. Also, research and world-building are VERY difficult for me and so I avoid writing anything where I’ll have to do a lot of either…

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic.

I don’t think people should be afraid to do it when it’s important/adds value to the story BUT I am also very scared of doing it, haha, so I’m a hypocrite. It’s never come up as a necessity for me yet and I speak very few languages anyway, so…yeah, I don’t have strong opinions on this one, besides be nice to authors who do it and try their best! Fanfiction is free!!! We’re all in this for the love of it!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

UH????? First published fanfic was for Rogue One/Star Wars, but I might have a WIP/draft of a fic for The Newsroom that’s older…

20. Favorite fic you’ve written.

I already said I had the most fun I’ve ever had writing summer came like cinnamon, so sweet with @firstelevens and I just think it’s a perfect rom-com of a fic! But also, sometimes I re-read come and get your honey to cheer myself up because it’s a very light and silly established relationship fic (which fandom generally hates, just looking at kudos/interaction levels, but I adore and I will DIE ON THIS HILL!!!) 🍯🐻

✨

tagging @carolinepenvenens @incognitajones @flythesail and anyone else who might want to do it!

[hekaates]

open letter to ems (part ii) — @officialjimmybuffet

Hey bitch. Happy birthday

First time it’s just a letter, second it’s a pattern, how long until it counts as tradition?

Maybe it’s weird but I started to write this letter on December 13th, 2022. 179 days until your birthday but I felt the need to start writing this, felt the need to put my sentiments into words.

Yesterday I sent you 18 audios, several minutes each of course, explaining you in deep detail the plot of the first Avatar movie. I watched it alone after my mom went to sleep and to be frank Im kind of glad she did or else she’ll catch me crying over the scenery of a planet that doesn’t exist, from a movie that I’m pretty sure doesn’t pass the Belchdel test (update: it does not, everything is about Jake Sully and his terrible habits). It’s sitting in the bathroom floor all alone, waiting for people to stop screaming at each other that makes me realize how much I needed you in my life, how much I need, and will need someone who understands and compliments (as in complementary) me as well as you do. I like Avatar because I’m insane, but also because I see someone so lost and so insane in their own world they have to go literally to another planet to find a home, because somehow they do and I think, fuck maybe I could to. Looking back at it, the fact Jakes best friend is a short haired ginger scientist (healthcare science is a science right?) might make it even more close to home. (I hope in the end of this story, I don’t turn blue and you die and come back reincarnated as my daughter, but if you do it’d be hilarious and pretty on brand for us).

Everytime I remember you exist I am no longer alone. One time we were talking about the saints (this phrase in itself explains our relationship better than any other thing I can say here) and we said: I’d pick your saint if you pick mine. I remember the first time I wrote it, I looked at the screen, I looked at me and I looked at you (the only way I can, deep inside my mind) and I realize that with no other person this sentiment would make sense, no other person could I send a message at 22h explaining the in-depth history of Brazilian reality shows and make it so that I’m not insane or annoying or terrible, no other person would I search the deep webs of Wikipedia to find out what Saint was killed on June 10 (ps. It’s Saint Olivia, that’s my sisters name).

Saint Emma is the keeper of pharmacy, Saint Luisa the keeper of grief, somewhere along the lines God made it so we can meet and this would make a little bit too much sense.

I want to thank you for always holding my hand, even if have never touched, even if we never do. Times passed, I forget to write and now your birthday is in 4 days and now it is in 2 days and I find myself plagued by a loneliness only you can fill (I think this is the gayest sentence I’ve ever wrote and that’s saying something). Right now I look at the sun and it’s 4pm here so it means that in the other side of the world it’s 3pm and you are looking at the same sun, as the sunlight burns the right side of my face I can’t help but wonder if right now, in the other side of the hemisphere, it burns the left side of your face, that in the sunlight our faces meet and become one (again, really going for the gayness vibe rn).

The only future I am content with is the one I have you by my side, it’s the one I can call you to spend christmas with my family be it next to a British young star celebrity or not (but like if god wants him to spend several christmases with me then like I can’t say no right that’s on God not me right anyways I’m getting of track-) In the good ending it’s Christmas afternoon and I’m sitting by the pool showing you how to open an earl fruit or a persimmon while my siblings play with the speaker. In the good ending we’re in a club in New Jersey and I have no idea how to order a drink, in the good ending, when the movie is about to be done I grab your hand and say “hey.”

So, yeah.

Hey.

[meg2md]

(Very small The White Lotus season 1 spoilers?)

It's BROILING in my room right now. Just, fucking broiling. I think it's in the single digits outside but my parents' house is old and this room is way way way too hot so my window is open...

I know I've journaled a lot about this lately but I just turned 31 so it's on my mind... man, 30/2022 was WILD. This time last year, I would never have guessed in a thousand lifetimes that I'd have broken off my ENGAGEMENT with my partner of 9 years, gotten dumped by my rebound (lol), and ended up in a city in a completely different state for residency instead of getting married and staying in my home state. My life took a DRAMATIC change, and now I'm living this completely separate reality from what I'd been imagining for not only all of medical school, but the entirety of my long-term relationship. Wild. Bonkers. Unfathomable. Who am I?

Multiple of my friends have said it and I was thinking it: 30 had MAJOR tower vibes. (Lol tarot is a thing I get into every once in awhile.) It was a year of burning everything to the fucking ground. SHWOOP. Fuckin GONE. And I'm currently re-living the trauma of my ?dis-engagement/(first) breakup, because it all started to come up in full force about this time last year. December 2021 through January 2022.... yeah.... I still get nightmares. Even as the one who broke it off, it was the HARDEST thing I have ever done. Period. It makes me sick to my stomach. Knowing what I know now (even though it was the right choice), I don't think I could do it again because it was just too painful. I was watching The White Lotus season 1 with my brother today, and there were moments in Rachel Patton's story line that made my stomach churn because I have felt those feelings. Things could have gone very differently for me. Like, I could have been her: "I'm happy. I'll be happy, I promise."

In my head cannon, they don't last very long after the airport.

Anyway, in light of this I had my friend do a tarot reading for this coming year, 31/2023. I burned things to the ground, but in the aftermath maybe something beautiful can blossom? "When a horrific loss uproots us, we leave pieces of us behind in the soil, the structure on which we built our identity reduced to nothing more than an absent appendage, left behind to rot... [but] rotting [becomes] a means to transform." (In Shock, Rana Awdish). It's super corny, but I've always identified with cycles of death and rebirth. For example, how the fuck did I go from almost failing out of college to being an actual obstetrician/gynecologist? Um, what? How did I go from massively struggling with binge eating to being a super healthy (almost athletic) weight for almost a decade without much trouble?? And most recently, how did I go from being engaged to my partner of nine years (and spending all nine years trying to convince myself I'd be happy having kids) to being SINGLE??? Free?? Unshackled??? In a new state? My whole life was once scripted and now it's UNWRITTEN. It's great. It's horrible. I'm excited. I'm fucking terrified.

30 was bonkers, but I think it set the groundwork for me to have some MAJOR growth at 31. I asked my friend to do a reading outlining the coming year and how I can take advantage of the chaos I've created. A brief synopsis of my reading (to help me process): the part of me most prominent now is dominated by swords. Typical tbh hahaha. Bound, chained, conflicted. While I recently broke those chains, my wounds are still weeping, and I'm still stuck in place by the pain that ripping free from them caused. My past and future are wands: the past is largely conflict, comparisons with others, and competition; the future is me rising above that and finding contentment and balance within myself. I consciously focus on external forces (my career, new friendships, hobbies, fitness) while subconsciously I'm still riddled with addictions and temptations - specifically in this situation, CO-DEPENDENCE. This year I need to work on being the person who is there for me!! And ultimately, I think I have the fire under my ass to do it. The ultimate outcome of the situation is that I find balance with myself - that pentacles card that indicates reciprocal relationships signifies the relationship I will build with myself.

Ultimately a very positive reading!!! But one that indicates the time ahead is going to be hard. Boy howdy, it's already been hard. And not only am I re-living the break-up with my long-term partner, but my more recent break-up is intermittently fucking me up still. But, "Love arrives exactly when it needs to; love leaves when it must."

SO. Some goals for myself in the coming weeks as I enter 31 and 2022 comes to a close:

workout 2x/week

continue catching up on all things Cosmere

finish Melancholy of Mechagirl

finish On a Sunbeam

COOK FOOD

keep house clean

On a closing note, can't believe I have to go back to work in 2 days. It's criminal. Wish me luck driving 4.5 hours back to residency in this fucking blizzard weather :')

[poetryinsilence]

Noughts and Crosses - Jake “Hangman” Seresin - childhood friend!reader (part IV)

A/n: SMUT, please this is a warning sign. (smut but kinda vague since smut is not my forté :p) Here we are, the last chapter of this saga :))) I love cocky Hangman vibes, but also domestic Jake gets me. Finally, no beta read still very raw :)

Summary: What's supposed to happen now that Jake is all healed and granted permission to go back to Top Gun? He can't decipher what you're feeling but neither can yourself...

Wc: 3,493

part I | part II | part III

A huge sigh of relief washes over you after the past couple of weeks hectic scheduling and catering at your place. Jake is finally cast-free, which means no more itches that can’t be scratched for him, but to you, this also means he can finally clean up after himself. But a new plan is fitted into your checklist. Now every two to three days, you have to take Jake to his physiotherapy appointments. It is exactly like dropping your kids off at kindergarten. Sometimes, you would pick him up after his appointment and he would tell— no, complain about his day. Other times, you would stay with Jake as he’s regaining his motion. Seeing him straining in pain doesn’t sit right with you.

Over the course of that, he recovered his traction and agility. He’d be up before the first peek of sunlight spilling through the blinds, dressed and prepared for his run of the day. Then, you’d groggily waddle to the kitchen and see he’d already made breakfast for you, with a smile and a wink.

You anxiously twiddle your thumbs, looming behind Jake as he listens intently to the doctor relaying every word. Both showed nothing but smiles and exchanged laughter. As the conversation comes to a close, the doctor signs their full permission for Jake to go back to Top Gun again.

Of course, you are happy for him. He can finally go back to doing what he loves. Flying in a jet and defying gravity, showing the world what he's made of, got a crew that will watch his back, even when you're not there. And you, you'll get the house back to yourself again and you no longer have to clean up after him. And maybe you guys will meet up again after another 20 years. You'll have your own animal shelter then, and he; he will be promoted and rise up the ranks. And you'll tell him that you're happy for him.

Are you happy for him?

Jake bumps your shoulder and snaps you out of your intruding thoughts, looking up to find yourself halfway across the fully packed parking lot. Your vision wanders around to piece together how you got here.

Jake's voice rings in your ear. "I'm taking these."

You whip around to search for his face but he'd already snatched the keys you didn't remember that were in your hands and with a skip to their steps. Grasp acting a minute too late, you only caught the thin air in your hands.

"Hey!"

"I'm driving, whether you like it or not. It's time to bring these bad boys to action again." he smirked, exaggerating his stretch.

You lovingly rolled your eyes and tailed behind him. It's not bad being in the passenger seat once in a while. Your gaze shifts from what you would normally see; zoning out on licence plates and mismatched asphalts, but here on the passenger's side, you take in everything outside of the frame. The panoramic sky meets the horizon, palm trees reaching for the heavens, and the ocean as blue as it can be.

Jake steals a glance or two over in your direction, the silhouette of you basking in the fiery red aglow from the setting sun; hand tucked underneath your chin as you dream with the landscape passing you by, wind picking up your now burning red hair with the scent of July air, while some rock ballad plays softly on the radio. Sometimes, he noticed, how his eyes wander to you unintentionally, just like a moth to a flame, making his heart trip over its own rhythm. But, he would catch himself before you'd caught him doing so. 

"Hey, uh, I think tonight calls for a celebration for my speedy recovery. Whadaya think?” He said.

You pulled away from the blurry scenes to face him. You nod hesitantly. “Sure, where do you wanna go?”

He shrugs. “We don’t have to go anywhere fancy. Home is fine. Let’s just order takeouts and chill.”

You let out a breathy smile and shake your head. “So, just like any other regular day then?”

“You’re right. But the difference is, I can drink again. And I won’t lie, I’m dying for a beer.” The corners of his lips are pulled to uncover a toothy grin that plays into your memory. But the thoughts of him returning to Top Gun nags at the back of your mind, and the queasy feeling bubbles at the pit of your stomach. Maybe tonight is all the time you have left with him.

Your living room isn’t exactly small; it could fit a good amount of creatures and creatures akin— maybe a dozen or so. However, the absurd amount of food Jake decided to order made your room seemingly feel like you are packed like sardines in a can. They even had to send two delivery guys just to turn this into one short trip.

A variety of food sprawled out along the coffee table, all decoratively half-eaten. Jake snickers at the dialogues played out from the flat screen while sinking into the final bite of his burrito. You couldn’t focus on what was on the screen as your thoughts pulled you in and out of the spiral; about you, about Jake, about what comes after.

You took another sip of wine that was sitting gingerly on the armrest and bite a piece of cake that’s been placed on your lap for the past twenty minutes, barely making a dent.

“What, it’s not to your liking?” His gravelly voice seeks its way to you.

Vision flickers down to the sweet treat, your brows furrow as you shake your head to deny his statement. 

“No, it’s—“ the words got caught in your throat, filtering through what might be the best answer for this. You don't dislike the cake; it's the right amount of sugar, but cherry anything does not belong in cakes. Now it tastes like—

"You're thinking it tastes like a couch, aren't you?" he booped the apples of your cheek, laughing out like a child. A cool, tacky residue melts with the heat of your skin, as you watch Jake licks off the remaining whipped cream off his finger.

Your eyes widen in horror, catching his wrist in your firm grasp. "Jake Seresin, you—"

The weight of him presses up against your body, closing whatever distance there was left between you and him over the couch. The warmth of his tongue grazes the surface of your silky skin from where the mess he made, the aftermath of his heat still lingers on your mind after its departure. The action alone made you jolt backwards but you were met with the armrest, entrapping you just inches away from him.

Questions firing rapidly in your mind, everything's muddled, fuzzy...entranced. His chromatic evergreen is raptured by the dark rings, you flicker between them in search of a rational answer. But, all you find is lust behind those eyes. The want of needing you, above all things.

Your grip slips, but in exchange, he's on yours. In one killing motion, he tugs you; like gravity, finding purchase on your lips. The sonorous feeling colours you in irisated colours, like a burn that warms your chest. Even so, you wanna know the answer to why. Why now?

Jake savours the sensation of you, just a sliver of cherry flavour residing could get his blood rushing to his head. What would happen to him if got to taste more of you? His hunger grew impatient. The slick of his tongue ran along the outline of your mouth, the resistance of you knew the danger if you went further with this. But, temptation tugs on your sleeves. Maybe just a peek wouldn't hurt.

"Don't think." the words hummed like a bassline from his chest.

Those were all you needed to part your lips under his command, giving in to your desires and the emptiness you've felt in his twenty-year absence. Your hands find their way entangled in his silken strands as he devours you deeper into the kiss, tongue tangled in searing heat. His hand searches its way to the side of your breast and tiptoes down to the curve, accentuating goosebumps under his touch. He reaches down, toying with the hem of your t-shirt and slips underneath. His fingertips slowly tread the skin that made you snap into a wake-up call, hands stopping him firmly on his chest. He pulls away.

"You—I...we're both drunk. This is a mistake..."

"Why do you keep taking yourself out of the equation when things feel right? Hm? This...this isn't a mistake. You're always too slow to realise some things, or maybe you're just scared to admit to it."

His lips pursed into a fine line and he let out a heavy sigh through his nose.

"You always kept me at an arm’s length; even when we were kids, you had a fear of getting hurt. But, you have no idea you're hurting other people in the process. And so, I let go. Thought that you would be happier and I'll burden this to myself. Every part of it.

His eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment, and the ambivalent feeling reverberated from his words. You don't know what to think, don't know how to feel. You never knew how he felt.

"I never stop thinking about you. Every minute of the day. It's always been you. D'you know how happy I was when I heard you moved here? I immediately wanted to reach out to you, but what am I supposed to say? Time stretched between us for too fucking long, and god, I hated myself because I don't want to be a stranger to you.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words could come out. All you could do is stare dumbfoundedly as he pours all his feelings out in this speck of time.

"So, I took a chance—the biggest and riskiest chance. I prayed that it shouldn't have come to this, but lo and behold, someone answered my prayers, in exchange for a part of me."

Anger courses through your veins after what you've just perceived, and you shake your head in frustration. 

"You can't say that! D'you know how fucking terrified I was; hearing you almost lost your goddamn life?! That I was gonna be the one that had to tell your mother that her son's gone. I cannot face her for the rest of my life." you choked.

"It was a stupid chance, but one to go as far as to realise what one would do for love. And I do. Always have, always will. And you need to accept that this is real between us."

Jake gently pushes a lost strand of hair behind your ear and cups your face, making your heart burn with an ache.

"It's okay to let yourself fall...because I do fucking love you. And it's not going to change."

The pad of his thumb swipes the tears you hadn't noticed that's been cascading down your cheek. You don’t know how long you’ve kept that feeling buried deep within you, but knowing that you can finally let go of all the fears and worries; knowing that you’re safe to fall into his arms is the best you have ever felt in your entire life. You can finally come to terms with that four-letter word that you always thought would never bestow on you—love.

How simple it is to feel, yet difficult it is to find. But it was always there, right in front of you. You just had to let go of your own reins.

His lips gravitate to yours once more, being certain and assertive with his intentions. His hands slip under, wasting no time, and pulling your t-shirt over your head and discarding it one side. His kisses trail along the underside of your jawline, leaving a searing hot sensation with every press of his lips. The gentle graze of his teeth nips the most delicate part of your skin, earning him an arousal moan out of you.

“I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

You giggled at his temperament, watching how the slightest of moan could get him weak on his knees, anything else you do would make him beg for you. It took you less than a second to rip his shirt off and add it to the pile of clothing on the floor that’s building its way up. Before you know it, you both are observing one another’s naked figure, drinking in the outline of every curve and muscle. And the sight laid in front of you heats up a flame to your core.

Lips create a trail inch by inch down along your collarbone and carefully take in each breast, and tongue laps; drawing circles at your peak, rolling it in between his teeth. You gasp at the sensation, all too foreign but enticing you even more so. Hands slithering to the back of your knees, taking this invitation to entangle your legs around his rigid waist, rolling your hip against his growing member.

He bites down on his lips to stifle a groan. His dark eyes whip up and bore into you as a warning, playing too closely with fire and you might get burned by it. But what is love without a little burning flame?

He guides himself to your entrance, soaked with a sheen from just a few sloppy kisses. His breath hissed, having a taste with just the tip. But he can’t have you without your permission. You peered at him with heavily hooded eyes, dazed out from your high, you nod as a sign of approval. He slowly pushes in with ease; slick coated him as you devour him deeper, feeling a stretch of pain and pleasure as your body pressed up against his. 

“Fuck—“ your fingernails dug into his shoulder blades and branded his back with long streaks of crimson. The copper scent muddles your brain, all your thoughts dressed in white but shrouds your sight in red, loose lips calling out his name in a sultry voice. The grip of his conscience slips loose from him cursing under his breath, knowing the effect you have on him, threatening to come undone by just simply moaning his name. If the heavens witness this entanglement, angels would clip their wings to just get a little taste of you.

The air thickened and entangled with heat vapours and desperate pleas; heavy breaths roll and veil your skin, rippling a shiver down your spine. His pace sunders and hips keep in time with you, each wave bringing you closer and closer to your high, twitching under his commotion. Your breath draws short, catching his attention to your finish line.

"I-I can't—"

The air in your lungs hitches as your mind sears in white hot vision, toes curl and twitch in ecstasy and screaming out his name like your own prayer. Jake follows shortly behind, bucking into you with a tender moan and soft cursing in your hair, dampened by the beads of sweat. He collapses on top of you for a short moment, before rolling to his side and pulling you closer to him, examining every little detail of your face.

In turn, you cup his face and trace little circles beneath his eye, gravitating your lips and capturing his, delicate and feverish, imprinting a piece of you for him to take, and filling the missing piece of your soul, even if you parted with him.

His lids drift close, pressing his forehead against yours, searching for your comfort and dreaming of you as he sleeps.

You hummed, whispering under your breath, "I love you, Jake Seresin."

*

Funny how you've never expected yourself to be in the middle of a desert. Nor go anywhere near a military station, yet here we are; fingers drumming along the steering wheel, at the gates just outside of Fightertown. You look over to Jake; his foot tapping anxiously against the floor of your Yugo. Now he won't even fucking look at you.

"Will you stop sulking for two minutes?" you sigh, twisting your body to face his silhouette.

Jake finally turns to meet your gaze; chewing the inside of his cheek to suppress his annoyance. "No. Now I'm regretting everything."

You smirk at his childlike remark, clasping a hand on his shoulder and giving it a good squeeze. "Jackal, you know this was going to happen. So why are you regretting it now?"

"Because I only had you, officially, for what, 7-8 hours? And now I have to go back to work." He reaches up and takes your hand in his, leaning in, giving you a small kiss in between your knuckles. He sighs. "I don't wanna leave you yet, cupcake."

His little sympathetic frown pasted on his face, and the shine to his olive green eyes could almost break your heart in two. Almost. Your lips quivered, expressing the most dramatic faux sniffle and said, "Aw, honey." Your face grows cold. "I've only had two hours of sleep, if I stayed in bed with you anymore, I think my back will finally give out."

"Oh, was I that good?" the shit-eating grin returns. You hate to admit it, but that obnoxious, Hollywood smile is starting to grow on you. What kind of dark magic has he cast on you to make you fall hopelessly for him? He caused nothing but trouble, still, you can't help but love his handsome face and his cocky attitude. Especially his annoying quality and the blue, frail bits that he embodies.

A blast of a car horn snaps you both out of your little theatrical play, and your gaze flicks towards where the sound originated from. You watched as a tan uniformed man struts out from the Jeep; deep, chocolate skin with specks of gold shimmering off from the sun. Oh shit. Do all aviators look that good? You swipe the corner of your mouth to make sure you're not drooling.

"Y/n, honey. I'm still the one you love right?" Jake looks back and forth between you and the pilot, with a mild concern in his tone of voice.

"Mhm. Yep. Still yours." You nod vigorously, eyes wide as you connect with him. But Jake still isn't convinced.

"Seriously, I promise...now get out, Seresin." you draped yourself over him and pushed the car door open, an opportunity to give him another good glance of your ass in those tight-fitted jeans as an affirmation.

He whistles. "Alright, they can't survive without me anyway." Slinking the army green duffle bag over his shoulder, he gives you a final wink before greeting his teammate, pulling him into a hug and a slap on the back. You watched as Jake whispers something into his ear and they both turn to look at you. The pilot drew a million-watt smile.

"Y/n, right? Coyote. Heard a lot about you." he announced.

"Ah, so you're Coyote. Heard a lot about you too. Nice to meet you in the flesh!" You leaned forward, sending him a small wave. Jake wasn't lying, a wild Coyote appeared right in front of your eyes. Even much better than what you imagined.

"Well, I'll keep in touch," Jake grimaced.

You nod, lips pressed together, choking back a tear that's threatening to escape. You got used to his presence, the confidence and his admiration, now you felt empty without it.

"Oh, and also," His quick steps jog back to you, a hand slips under your jaw and tilts you to meet with his gaze. He dips, locking into a kiss, with your eyes closed to feel the tenderness and savour this feverish dream. He reluctantly parts with you, the remnant of forlorn feelings lingers but he pulls away from you before he starts having second thoughts. Jake makes his way back, without detaching your face from his sight.

"By the way, your mother gave us her blessing. And I really think we should consider adopting Captain...he's starting to grow on me." He said, coolly.

"Uh, what?"

"What?!"

The shock of information dumped onto you left you and Coyote's mouths hanging wide open. Even the guard standing watch was stunned by what he just witnessed. The disconnection between your brain and ears entangled your thoughts. You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around what you just heard. And you hope you heard it wrong. But Jake just nods gleefully, witnessing the shade of red building up on your face.

"See you on Saturday!" Jake yells, a cheerful singsong to his voice, happily laughing to himself as they drive off, leaving you stunned in the trail of dust kicked up from the Jeep.

Here, you promise and swore to yourself, that the next time you see Jake, you will lovingly choke the ever-living life out of him. Saturday couldn't come any sooner.

P.S: Thank you for sticking with me till the end of the series(?) I don't write fanfic much, this was originally supposed to be a 2-3k fic and somehow I self-indulged too much and magically turned into an 11k series...😅 I've read every tag and comments y'all wrote and I am very thankful for it, it makes me so happy!

Tag: @shanimallina87 @itzyogurl92 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dempy

[hanayumi]

Yandere Koko that showers darling with money and affection but darling doesn't want to spend his money because they're scared,,,,, <\3

aHHAHH!!! i like the way you think ;)

tw yandere, sugardaddy vibes, slight insecurity on the reader’s part but writing this made me so soft eugh

“k-kokonoi…” your voice rings out as a quiet, meek whisper, much to your own dismay (strange, it always seems to catch in your throat when he’s around).

you’re as stiff as a pole in this position but he seems quite the opposite — with his arms slotted around your hips, chin resting on your shoulder, the both of your reflections staring back at you in the full-length mirror. it’s stifling. it’s almost like he knows that you hate when he dresses you up like this. elegant gowns and intricate jewellery are not your style, they were never your style. (more like you never had the liberty to afford them anyway, because you’ve always had your hands full with scraping at funds and making ends meet…)

but all of that’s gone now, thanks to him.

you should be grateful, that glinting, tear-shaped crystal weighing like steel on your collarbone whispers. he breathes out a shuddering sigh, as if caught in a daze somehow, and the smell of perfume fills your nostrils (rose with a hint of sweetness, not choking or pretentious but mild and refined — he chose well); you swallow. you should be grateful. and you are. you are.

he’s given you everything a girl could ever want, really. and you’re grateful, because god knows where you’d be if he weren’t there to extend his help to you that day… dead in a ditch somewhere, maybe. because your parents couldn’t give a damn even if their own flesh and blood got caught up in their own debts. kokonoi hajime, tall and handsome with millions of cash at his disposal — he’d stepped in and saved you without a speck of hesitation. can you believe it? no, even after so many months since he’s taken you in, a part of you still can’t.

it was uncalled for. a miracle. an act of kindness. you’re so grateful.

it’s just…

“kokonoi,” you try again, a little louder this time, barely catching the attention of the man clinging to your waist. he’s too busy staring—no, admiring—the pretty jewels that adorn your neck, the shiny things worth more than you could ever comprehend, that honestly make you want to hide away every time he comes home with a new pair. he burns through thousands of cash like it’s absolutely nothing. it’s something you’ve grown accustomed to, as unnerved as it made you since the beginning; as much as it lit a fire in your bones watching him throw chunks of gold away as if you hadn’t worked your ass off everyday to even earn a fraction of what he has.

something small like this wouldn’t make a dent in his fortune anyway.

he’s content, sated, with holding you like this — fingers tip-toeing over the soft silk draped over your curves, massaging your flesh through the fine fabric, hooded eyes drinking up the sight of you, all dolled up for him. he is seemingly unaware of (or ignoring) your quiet pleas. at least he’s satisfied, you think, biting your lip to keep from squirming.

“hajime.”

his voice is smooth as satin when he corrects you (so he was listening). there’s a beat of silence as if he’s expecting you to echo his name, so you do, just above a whisper. hajime. he hums in approval; you’re learning.

his index finger trails downwards, teasing at the curve of your hipbone through the dress, then moving further up — feeling, counting every rib of yours as it ascends, through the thin and smooth fabric. goosebumps feather up on your forearms as you tense up. he halts.

“what’s wrong, my dear? you don’t look too happy.”

“i am! i am happy. i-it’s just, well,” you begin, but already the words are dying in your throat from how intently he’s staring at you through your reflection — with a flicker of concern in those pretty eyes, like he’s concerned that all the luxuries he’s handed to you are somehow not enough to make you happy. (oh how wrong he is)

you gulp in a breath, trying to calm your thudding heart, and when you close your eyes all you can recall is the king-sized bed with silken sheets, the walk-in closets lined with lush clothing, the wine-red steaks that make up plenty of your dinners, the gold-legged ottoman that he always tells you to rest your feet on, minutes before he offers you a massage…

“i haven’t really, um, earned any of this...” your eyes dart to the mirror, giving yourself a hesitant once-over, as if ascertaining that yes, you truly don’t fit in this dress. never mind that it’s hand-tailored and custom-made as per his specifications, never mind that if anyone from your old neighbourhood were to see you now they’d no doubt mistake you for some well-to-do aristocrat.

he gives it all, gives everything, to you in spades — his money and his love and his heart and you haven’t earned a single thing.

oh, but you have, he wants to say, but he settles for a questioning hum.

(he never told you about the deal struck with your parents in exchange for freeing their crippling debts — their precious, adoring daughter’s hand in marriage — without any interference, cutting ties forever. as long as you’d be his without objection whatever cash he’d have to dish out didn’t matter. that, and they never deserved you anyway.

…actually, he never tells you about a lot of things, but he figures he likes to keep you in the dark that way — quiet, pliant, always giving in to him. it makes things easier.)

you frown when he doesn’t reply, straining a little against his grip. the reflection in the mirror, the girl who radiates elegance and beauty — it doesn’t feel like you. it looks like a replica that makes you so disgusted that there’s bile piling at the back of your throat. is that really you? have you done anything to deserve this? your heart continues pounding in your chest, suddenly everything feels wrong—

aren’t you just leeching off of him, for god’s sake?

“hey, look at yourself.”

one hand cups your jaw, so gentle that it makes you wince. he tilts your chin up, so your gaze aligns with your reflection instead of the wooden floorboards, and presses a lingering kiss to your hair. “you’re gorgeous,” he breathes. a calloused thumb rubs your cheek; you squeeze your eyes shut.

“i don’t… i’m n-not—” you slump in his grip, a tremor starting to creep into your voice. “you shouldn’t have to do this for me.”

it’s his turn to frown.

wordlessly, he angles your head towards his, bringing your lips to his. your eyes pop open. soft. his lips are soft when they melt against yours. like stealing your breath away with every muted groan, with every lick his tongue gives at your bottom lip. you smell a tinge of his sweet cologne, taste his favourite red wine in his mouth, and oddly, it makes you feel at ease… how does he do that?

eventually he pulls away, but not without leaving you flushing from head to toe and gasping for air. see? he nods his head at the mirror. you steal a glance at the reflection — rosy cheeks, reddened lips glistening with spit, glittering necklace, and a man who looks like he wants to make you all his.

gorgeous.

“everything i do, i do for you alone,” he tells you softly. “your desires are my desires.”

he dips his head, lips brushing against your ear and nipping, albeit tenderly and the action has a soft gasp leaving your lips. “of course, i won’t stop you if you’d like to repay me sometime.”

[callmefitz]

fine. fine I did it. luca fic where massimo is trying to be a good parent for his teenage fish son. yes its the painfully awkward i know you’re gay talk. i wrote this at 2 am while projecting so this isn’t shakespeare, just a vibe. set sometime 3-4 years after the film but i think it’s implied enough.

—————————————————-

Alberto ran up the stairs, threw open the door, dropped his hat on the table and hastily washed his hands at the sink.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said breathlessly, wiping his hands on the front of his shirt, “I got caught up in, uh, well-“

“Showing off?” Massimo offered, turning from his workstation in the kitchen. Alberto laughed nervously and nodded- then paused- and shook his head while looking away.

“Well, I prefer the term ‘sharing with the community’” Alberto offered, before pulling out a large pot and placing it on the stove.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Massimo returned to the cutting the fish, “It’s a nice bike.”

It was a nice bike. Nice enough that the kids in Portorossa frequently begged Alberto to let them sit on it or ride it around the plaza. And who was he to say no? It was the coolest thing he had ever set his eyes on, let alone owned. Of course he let them use it. Alberto had been saving up his tip money from fish delivery all winter to buy it: a shiny, brand-new, red-hot Vesta. Just like the one Erocle used to parade around town on. Giulia and Luca were going to be so excited.

Alberto began pouring cups of water into the pot as he raised the heat, waiting for it to hit a soft boil. “So how much time do we have?”

Massimo glanced out the window facing the countryside, where the distance etchings of train tracks were visible, “About an hour. Luca’s parents will meet us at the station. Then, dinner.”

“An hour. Right. We can work with that,” Alberto said, mainly to himself, as Massimo continued with his fish. They both fell into a steady rhythm, as they stirred and simmered an outrageous amount of food.

While his hands were lost in repetition, Alberto’s mind wandered to Luca. Massimo liked to joke about how Luca never truly left, with all the letters and phone calls sent, but Alberto couldn’t disagree more. Words couldn’t capture the way Luca would say things, like how he yelled when he was excited and talk quickly when he was nervous. And sure, Alberto could read between the lines, and infer things, like how scrunched up words meant Luca was happy or excited and messy letters and wonky lines meant he was tired, but it wasn’t the real thing. And phone calls, while better, were fewer and far inbetween, and couldn’t capture the way Luca would move when talking, whether it was the way he walked or gestured, or the faces he would make and the way he would touch your shoulder or grab your arm to make a point. So no- Luca had truly left, and while Alberto had seen glimpses and pieces throughout the months, he preferred the whole Luca he got during the summer.

One hour. One hour and Alberto wouldn’t have to rely just on letters and voices. It would be just them again, like it was every summer, whether it be sleeping under the stars in Giulia’s hideout, or swimming out to the island to watch the sunsets, or spending afternoons filling up on gelato and playing futbol on the hot pavement. Giulia would be there too, and the trio would finally be complete. Just like how it was that first summer, and just how it was now.

Had Alberto mentioned he was excited?

“The pasta is boiling over,” Massimo provided helpfully, and Alberto was thrust back into reality.

He swore under his breath, moving the pot to another eye and turning the stove off. He sighed and grabbed for a towel to wipe the sides of the pot. Turning his back to Massimo, he began searching for a strainer, but was interrupted.

“Alberto.” Massimo put his knife down and turned slightly. His face was drawn so that his eyes peeked out from under his eyebrows and bore down to Alberto (no matter how tall Alberto got, Massimo was always, well, massive).

“There is something we need to talk about before the train comes in.”

And there it was. Or, rather, there it wasn’t, because those words never came out of Massimo’s mouth. Maybe it was because, despite everything between them, Massimo just wasn’t a big feelings guy. He was a man of few words who would rather hand-paint signs, mend hats, and hand-make pasta than say “I love you.” Not that Alberto cared much, about that, he couldn’t complain honestly, but the point was that Massimo never “had talks”. If something was serious to discuss in private, it was always “Alberto, a word”. Because Massimo was a man of few words. So it was understandable, then, that that string of words elicited panic in Alberto. Because never in a million years, not even when Massimo first asked Alberto to stay with him, did they ever have something they needed to talk about.

Good thing Alberto was good at handling panic. He was basically an expert.

“Yeah, like what?”

He held his elbow out to lean against the counter in a calm manner, but missed and instead landed on the red hot stove eye. All while maintaining a smirk-turned-grimace. Yep. Expert.

That was going to hurt later. A lot.

Massimo looked at Alberto, searching for something in his face, and, upon finding it, sighed, and turned to the window where the train-tracks were. Absentmindedly, he turned the faucet of the sink on, and letting it cool for a moment, held a rag under it. Once it was wet enough, he handed it to Alberto.

“Luca is a... good kid, no?” Massimo led after a moment of contemplation. Alberto took the rag, but his face scrunched up in confusion as he held it to his elbow. Faintly, he felt the familiar tingle of flesh-turning scale as the coolness took the edge from the burn. But the beginnings of a frown was settling on Alberto as he followed Massimo’s gaze to the train tracks.

“Yeah?”

Massimo nodded. “He is very smart. He writes often. He knows fish... but not as well as you do.”

Alberto inched closer to Massimo, “Yeah, he’s pretty cool. One of my best friends but... I think you know that.”

“He is a very good friend,” Massimo said, but something felt strange about the way he said it, “Handsome, too.”

Alberto’s body froze and his face heated up. Before he could say anything contradictory, however, Massimo continued.

“I know the way you two look at each other. Young love. It’s a good thing, especially when it’s between friends who have known each other for so long.” Massimo said slowly, “And if you ever want to take Luca out for some gelato on your Vespa... then I will be very happy for you, Beto. He’s a good kid. Good for you.”

Alberto wasn’t going to lie. He had thought about it, once or twice. In his head it always played out so incredibly natural, that a part of him assumed it would eventually happen. Giulia would be busy, either delivering fish or volunteering for the cup, and he and Luca would be on their own for the day. Maybe they bike to the top of Portorosso, or maybe they went out to the island or climbed a roof to watch the stars. Sometimes it would be just them having dinner together, and something would give- one of them would brush hands with the other, lean in just a little too close and stay there... then... well, it would be just like it to was. But more. And selfishly, maybe if they were more, Luca wouldn’t leave at the end of the season.

But Alberto couldn’t think like that. Luca loved school more than anything. Well, almost anything. He would never want to take that from him.

But Massimo was right. Luca was handsome. Summers in Portorosso had been kind to him, and they’ve both put on some healthy weight and muscle over the years. Even if they hadn’t been friends, Alberto had no doubt he would have been fond of Luca regardless.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon,” Albert said candidly. “But... Thanks. For that. I guess.”

Massimo shrugged. “You’d be surprised. Giulia tells me a lot.”

Impossible scenarios ran through Alberto’s head. The wheels were spinning so fast that smoke was practically spewing from his ears.

“Like what?”

Massimo glanced out the window again, “I guess he’ll just have to tell you when he gets here.”

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under The Floorboards pt. IIII

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V

Whipping the sweat off your brow you placed the honey jars you collected on the ground, Phil really built this farm efficiently. However, that didn’t stop you needing to collect honey pots here and there, now that the vault was complete you could actually use the honey for normal things. Technoblade would never admit it but he loved when you put honey in his tea, contrary to popular belief he wasn’t a fan of plain black tea or coffee. You rolled up your sleeves and adjusted the sunhat that sat lazily on your head against your better judgment you had left your armor inside. The only thing on your person was a netherite ax Techno had enchanted for you, it was an effective weapon but without your armor, you were a bit of a sitting duck. As the bees buzzed and bumped lazily into each other, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. They were just so silly. You picked up the crate of jars and turned around, your eyes narrowed as you saw some movement by the trees, it was still too early for Tommy and Technoblade to be back...so just who was snooping around the property. You felt very naked in your sun hat and overalls, especially if it was Dream himself that you were about to encounter. Your worry only increased as you noticed four men all in netherite armor walking towards the house, their swords were drawn. You had a feeling that these were the men who took Technoblade the day prior. They were like a little gang all dressed the same way, bloody aprons and all they really had the executioner vibes down. 

    “Hello, gentlemen.” You smiled giving them a wave while you adjusted the box of honey, “beautiful day isn’t it?” 

The first to answer was a man who had a scar from the tip of his eyebrow down to the bottom of his lip. He sent you a smile and you noticed a tooth missing from the upper row, a navy blue beanie held his dark hair in place. 

    “Very beautiful, it’s always a good day when the sun is shining.” He mused the sun in question reflected beautifully across all their netherite armor. The one thing you decided to leave inside, you weren’t intimidated nope not at all. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

    “(Y/N).” You responded with a hum, “Is there something that I can help you all with today?” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed two of the men moved to surround you, they thought they were slick. The only one who didn’t move was the tallest of the children there, he looked to be half Enderman. He also looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now poor thing. Drawing your gaze back to the other three men, you noticed one was Tommy’s age and had small horns atop his head, along with goat-like ears. A burn scar also took up half of his face. It made you frown distastefully, what was with these kids getting traumatized? First Tommy and now the half enderman and the goat kid, you couldn’t adopt all of them, well you could but it’d be a lot of work. The other looked to be part fox after all the big orange ears and the fluffy tail was dead give away, wait didn’t Ghostbur say his son was a fox. “Are you Fundy?” You asked, suddenly tilting your head to the side.

    “How do you know my name?” Fundy’s face flushed a little and he shuffled on his feet, his hand twitching to grab the sword that was at his side. 

    “I talked to your father earlier today. I’m assuming that’s how you found me?” You took the hat off your head and rested it on Carl’s stable. The fox gave a reluctant nod of confirmation you licked your lips and put your hands behind your back. “So? Do you have a problem with Technoblade or just me specifically?”

    “Wow, she’s not even a little bit ashamed.” Quackity mused and you frowned, “We’re here because your boyfriend blew up our country. He also disgraced our President right Tubbo? Don’t know if you’re aware of that or not but he escaped his punishment. So we intend to make him repent.” He walked towards you and you took a step away from him. 

    “That’s far enough thank you.” You held up your hand in hopes it would stop his trek towards you, Quackity did pause for a moment. He let out a chuckle and smiled. He thought your tough attitude was cute, but he was clearly mocking you. 

Jackass. 

    “Quackity maybe we should leave her be...she didn’t do anything.” The young goat kid murmured his ears flicking as he looked up at you. 

    “Quiet Tubbo. Let the adults speak,” Quackity snapped at him before clearing his throat and looking back at you. “Listen (Y/N) was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us. If you don’t we’ll have to take you by force.”

    “Wait, couldn't Technoblade have trained her?” The half enderman spoke holding up his finger in the air but no one seemed to pay him any attention. 

    “I guess force it is. Although the fight is a little unfair.” You took out your ax and twirled it in your hand, “Something tells me you don’t exactly like fair fights.” Fundy took a hesitant step backward not really wanting to lose a life for this of all things, but he pulled out his sword just in case. Clicking your tongue in distaste you sent a bloodthirsty smile their way, one that rivaled Technoblade, “Come at me.” 

Without hesitation, Quackity charged at you with his sword he didn’t aim to kill, just disarm or injure. You blocked the swing with the wooden part of your ax and spun around just in time to dodge an attack from Tubbo. You managed to elbow him in the back and he stumbled forward into Quackity, the man made a grunting sound before shoving Tubbo off of him and into the snow. Fundy moved next and managed to land a hit on the side of your arm, you hissed loudly glaring daggers at the fox. His ears pressed against his head and he let out a small whimper, “sorry!”

    “Don’t apologize to her!” Quackity groaned, “You guys are the worst gang ever.” He slapped his forehead as you readjusted your posture, “I have to do everything myself.” Quackity snarled charging at you again you sidestepped out of the way. As he stumbled trying to regain himself he knocked over the honey pots and they shattered against the ground. You swung your ax and managed to land a hit on him in the back of the legs, he let out a strangled yelp and fell on his face into the snow like Tubbo had done earlier. Yanking out the ax out of the leader of the gang blood splattered all over the ground and stained the snow. Little red beads dripped off the ax as you held it by your side, the man only let out another scream as it was torn out of him. 

    “Back. Off.” You repeated again baring your teeth with a hiss, “Turn around and go back to L’manburg and I won’t kill you. Got it.”  The ax was pointed at all of them, you saw the half enderman nod vigorously, 

    “Yes ma’am.” He nodded rapidly grabbing Tubbo and Fundy by the arm and pulled them back, the three of them watched as Quackity snarled and backed up to join them. You watched them cower and you dropped your ax on the ground so you could press the palm of your hand into the wound on your arm. You quickly turned and ran back into your home to collect bandages and fix yourself up, blood speckled the floor as you made your way into the bathroom. You tore off your overalls and shirt, washing out the wound before wrapping your arm in bandages. You didn’t know how long you stood there in front of the mirror but you looked worse for wear. 

Technoblade was going to lose his shit.

---

All Technoblade could think about on their way back to his retirement home, was you. He could only put up with Tommy for so many hours until he needed to talk to literally anyone else. He was ready to get your relaxing date night underway; he could already feel your fingers running through his hair braiding his as you went. He hummed fondly listening as the voices called him simp repeatedly, he didn’t mind this time considering he was when it came to you. 

    “That’s still cringe chat.” He murmured to himself as Tommy continued to scream about something in the background, “Yeah, yeah I love her.” He heard the chat flip their shit and he fondly chuckled, intermixed with their happy cries there was a distinct sound of ‘E’ as well as ‘nerd.’ He almost didn’t hear Tommy’s worried shouting. He frowned and rolled his eyes back into his skull, 

    “What Tommy?” 

    “Technoblade! Technoblade!” The teen bumped back into him, Technoblade grunted and looked down at him. He followed Tommy’s eyes and spotted the blood littered snow outside his house. Technoblade paused and his vision went red around the edges, his eyes stayed trained on the bloodstains as the voices began to roar within his skull. His head shot up and he saw the honey box spilled over on the ground, glass littered the snow, your hat hanging loosely on Carl’s old stable. 

     “T-Technoblade.” Tommy stuttered again looking up at the pig-man, seeing how glazed over his eyes looked. He swore steam was coming out of Technoblade’s nose and his hand drew out his pickaxe gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his tusks grow in size and his face began to shift into his pig form. Tommy’s voice was drowned out by the flood that was the voices in his head: 

‘SHE’S GONE. THEY HAVE HER. KILL THEM ALL. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. WE DEMAND BLOOD. E. SAVE HER. YOU’RE A FAILURE. YOU DIDN’T PROTECT HER. SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM. SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. SHE NEVER HURT ANYBODY. YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’ 

Technoblade took a step forward to which Tommy rapidly backed up in response. He’s never seen Techno this gone before, oh shit he has it bad for (Y/N). However, Tommy didn’t make a move to stop Technoblade; he didn’t want him to release that rage on him. Technoblade walked into the house, stepping on his glasses that fell off his face. He threw his door open with a loud slam, he needed potions and he needed a new sword. 

Whoever did this all their cannon lives were gone he’d make it long and torturous.

A soft voice broke him out of his stupor his entire body went rigid. 

    “Bubs…” He slowly turned around and came face to face with you, you looked so small, so delicate standing in the doorway. You were wearing your pajamas, soft blue with little sheep all over them. His ears twitched and his shoulders softened considerably seeing you standing safe in the doorway, however, he tensed again the minute he saw the bandages tied around your arm. Blood leaking through them, he growled eyes locking in on the spot as you made soft shushing sounds at him. 

‘SHE’S HURT. SHE’S ALIVE THOUGH. BUT SHE’S HURT, THEY NEED TO PAY. ATONE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HER. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SPILL THEIR BLOOD THEN MAKE OUT WITH HER. SHE’LL LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DO. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade jumped feeling her hand caress his cheek, “Bubs it’s alright I’m okay.” Your voice was smooth and soothing, his eyes dilated as you spoke to him. His face shifting back to normal as he breathed heavily through his nose, “See?” You brought his head down to rest against your chest, it looked uncomfortable the way that he was bending. However, he could feel your heart beating in your chest, he made a soft whimper and grabbed onto your shoulders his pink hair tickled your chin. You brought your hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he finally calmed down enough to ignore the voices for the time being. Right now they were just commenting on how nice and warm her hands were anyway.

    “What happened to you? There was blood everywhere I was so scared.” His voice broke a little bit as he pulled away from you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest Technoblade had never looked so broken. 

    “The butcher squad came and attacked me. They wanted to use me to get to you but I fought them off just like you taught me.” You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him and he let out a disbelieving laugh. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back as he cradled you gently in his arms, you both stood there rocking back and forth together until Technoblade was satisfied. 

    “That’s my girl.” He finally murmured backing away from you, you flushed at the compliment. Whenever he called you that it made you flush all over, you let out a loud flustered whine and whacked him on the chest. Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression, it was a rare moment the tables were flipped like this and Technoblade was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Princess what’s with that look? Am I, thee Technoblade, making you flustered? I know I’m a lot to handle, I beat Dream once, I never die, I’m not homeless. Guess what?” 

    “What?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he circles you eyeing you up and down. 

    “I’m single.” 

    “Oh really?” You cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You twirled your hair around your fingers and you felt his strong hands rest on your waist. 

    “Hm I don’t think so. You might need to refresh my memory,” Technoblade mused kissing your neck tenderly. 

    “Well she’s stunningly gorgeous, and tough as nails,” Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him. “She absolutely adores you and how protective you are of her, and how much of a gentle giant you are.” He made a noise of protest and rested his chin on the top of your head. You could tell he was pouting at you, 

    “See, not only is that super cringe but also factually incorrect. I am not a gentle giant, I just committed vast sums of minor terrorism and I also kill orphans so what would my girlfreind say to that huh?” He huffed clicking his tongue distastefully. 

    “She would say that you’re right but also she sees the way you take care of Carl, and how you put up with Tommy. You’re totally brothers. That makes you at least a little bit soft” 

    “Not brothers and I don’t like him.” 

    “Right sure,” You giggled a little and kissed his chin lightly. 

Technoblade let out an indignant sound before muttering, “Oh we should probably tell Tommy you aren’t kidnapped. Also discuss what to do about L’manburg now that they know you exist.” You blocked out that last part and made a beeline outside to find Tommy. The teenager in question was fumbling with his hands over by his cobblestone tower, you ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug. 

    “(Y/N)!” He shouted letting out a disbelieving laugh hugging you back with a childish smile. “You’re okay! Holy fuck I totally thought you were dead and shit! Technoblade was going fucking apeshit! His face went all pig like n’ shit totally thought he was gonna kill everyone for you! Not that I was worried.” He added quickly shoving you away crossing his arms. 

    “Of course you weren’t THE Tommy is never worried.” 

    “Yeah exactly Miss Blade you get me.” You smiled fondly at him and you ruffled his hair and he shouted at you to stop. You did so sensing Technoblade approach the both of you, Techno interlocked your hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. “You chill now Big T?” 

    “I’m always chill Tommy. Only nerds aren’t chill.” He mused with a scoff, “Hence why I always call you a nerd.” 

    “WHAT THE FUCK TECHNOBLADE! I AM ALWAYS CHILL! I’M THE CHILLEST MAN ALIVE I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW!” 

    “Stop shouting,” Technoblade groaned burying his face in your hair as you laughed fondly at their antics. Although L’manburg knew about your existence now, and although you knew Dream probably wasn’t too far behind in learning that knowledge either, you felt everything was going to be okay. 

All you needed was each other, Technoblde, Tommy, Phil and you. Together you four were gonna do great things, you just knew it.

~~~

I do plan on making another part because people seem to be enjoying this story a lot more than I originally thought when I first posted it. Which is amazing thank you for all the love and support! New stuff is also in the works, thanks again for reading and enjoying! Stay safe guys! 🥰✨