#my best friend who drives me insane with her entire existence <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[s-aint-elmo]

y’all ever think about how the first birthday post-auditions is banana’s. i do. i think about it allll the time. it makes me want to dunk my head through solid concrete like an ostrich and start chewing.

(spoilers under the cut as i start spiralling)

revue starlight as we know it begins on may 14, 2018, when the auditions begin. in banana’s ideal timeline, it ends on may 25, 2018, and begins again on april 17, 2017. 

banana’s birthday is on july 12.

see, what gets me about this is that for a whole entire month following the revue duet, there are no birthdays. so i’m thinking: does that month lull banana into a false sense of security? after over sixty years of wearing down the same track, time grinds forward at last, and yes, banana has learned her lesson, banana had her cathartic cry, and banana has junna, kind, dependable, steadfast junna, who will haul her to her feet when she falters so they can take each new step together, but. still. it’s easy to ignore time passing when your routine remains unbroken--even more so when even that first deep crack that shattered it completely has disappeared without a trace.

so banana gets to take linear time at her own pace. day after day, taking comfort in what remains familiar even as the unfamiliar begins to encroach, and banana starts to think that actually, this isn’t so bad after all. 

(and, if she were cruel enough to ignore karen’s fading radiance, the empty shower stall across their row of eight, the bruising ache of a missing friend, it might even be better. because without hikari, karen does not shine, and without their revolutionary flora and claire, the 100th festival defaults to the motions of the 99th, and it’s almost like she gets one more year of repetition for free. 

(but banana is not cruel. she is who she is, has done what she has done, after all, because she is so kind. because she had too much love and not enough sense to keep it separate from the fear she held in equal measure.)

banana gets the hang of it. then july rolls around.

junna asks her what she wants to do for her birthday, and banana roots to the spot for a single, sickening moment of terror as it sinks in.

this keeps me awake at night. revue starlight did not just leave me with brainworms, it grew a self-sustaining ecosystem of thoughts that make me want to swallow gravel.

banana alone makes me want to write 14k introspective fic following this exact emotional journey through the vehicle of the seishoes preparing her birthday party that culminates in junna bringing her a lit cake in the dimmed lounge, surrounded by their singing friends (despite the results of the last audition, despite being one short and another devastated by the loss), banana having a breakthrough about the disservice she’s been doing to her friends by having no faith in them being able to face their hardships head-on and become better people for it and even more importantly having no faith in them choosing to stay in her life to share in her joy and her sorrow and her loneliness (because at the core of it, daiba nana is just a lonely, last-picked child who hasn’t quite healed)--and just bawling. deep wracking painful sobs that are all regret and penance and love and gratitude. 

one more first for banana.

and that’s not even touching the flourishing shrubbery of my thoughts about how deeply loneliness permeated banana’s life and what we can extrapolate from her choice to stay with junna in the dorms rather than going home (and if she made that choice every single time) with regards to her home life, and what we can extrapolate about her home life based on her blatant maladjustment and desperate need to be needed in order to have any self worth and!!! god!!!!!!

daiba nana you make me want to uncap a jug of gasoline and start chugging.

bonus fun facts: 

mahiru’s birthday is may 4, which means she recently turned 17

futaba’s birthday is on april 17, which means she got a time-loop for a birthday present

kaoruko’s birthday is march 3, which means she had to share the celebration with starlight

as per audio drama canon, claudine and maya celebrate their birthdays together on what we can assume is the midpoint of their one-week difference, which is the single gayest thing i have ever heard, not even counting the actual chicanery they got up to in that audio drama trying to give each other the bestest most specialest present ever and it makes me rabid in ways different from how banana makes me rabid

[ladyartemesia]

TEASER: Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega

Pairing: Nerd Alpha Kim Seokjin x Popular Omega Reader

Genre: A/B/O • Enemies to Lovers • (Sorta) College AU • Best Friend's Brother AU (Who is surprised? No one?)

Teaser Word Count: 3.6K

Teaser Warnings: A/B/O sexual dynamics • suggestive content

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: In the modern world, alphas are almost unheard of so why even bother learning about them? After all, as a spoiled (but reasonably kind-hearted) omega who is used to getting whatever she wants, you have better things to do. However, when unexpected circumstances throw you in the path of (extremely) nerdy and (probably?) shy Kim Seokjin, you're shocked to discover that he won't be wrapped around your little finger as easily as all the rest. Bringing that infuriating geek to his knees quickly becomes your personal mission in life... But it turns out that Kim Seokjin is not what he appears to be and the mean omega who eats beta boys for breakfast is about to get way more than she bargained for...

Author’s Note: This story would not be here without the love, support and friendship of my incredible support system. You talk with me, you laugh with me, you listen when I’m crying, and you read my chaotic drafts when I am ready to pull my hair out of my head in frustration. I love you all. @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @lemonjoonah. ALSO thank you to each and every one of you who encouraged me to post this story. This fic is dedicated to all of you as a token of my love and appreciation. Your support keeps me writing. Never doubt that for a second.

“...due to discriminatory anti-alpha policies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, alphas were nearly eliminated from the general population…”

You heaved a weary sigh and rolled your shoulders—stretching the buttons of your high-end Oxford shirt to their limit. The beta sophomore to your right whined audibly and you smirked.

“...despite efforts to restore the genetic balance of designations, alphas currently comprise less than one percent of the population…”

Your back arched slightly as you crossed your legs, letting the absurdly short hem of your skirt ride up even higher. The poor boy you were tormenting shifted miserably in his seat.

How was he supposed to focus on a Human Biology and Designation Studies lecture when the living breathing embodiment of every sweaty undergrad’s fantasies was twisting her fingers in her hair and wrapping her pretty pink tongue around a strawberry lollipop right there in the middle of class?

“...unlike betas and omegas, alphas possess enhanced strength and the ability to compel other designations with their voice. Unmated alphas especially were often baselessly feared and distrusted...”

You knew exactly how you affected boys like him. You were a shameless tease who relished their attention and the power it brought you. Who needed drugs when driving a man mad with desire was a rush more potent than any high?

“...and that’s all for today so please read pages 450-466 in the text over break and remember to turn in your essay on scent and consent in intimacy—”

That poor sophomore looked like he had finally worked up the courage to speak to you, but you were already out the door and tearing down the hall toward your beautiful (and entirely platonic) counterpart, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you think Professor Moore is unaware that class is over at 3:25 or is he just torturing us for science?”

Taehyung shrugged, falling into step beside you with practiced ease.

“I mean I would torture you for free so it’s hard to say.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at his characteristic dry humor, but the irritation at being held in that sweltering lecture hall for an extra ten minutes had frayed your temper.

“It’s the last class before spring break, I’m sure he was on some sort of twisted power trip.” You dug around in your purse for some chapstick, ignoring Tae’s amused snorting, “Alphas barely exist anymore and none of us are likely to meet one. Why bother learning what they can do?”

Taehyung tilted his head in amusement.

“You might be surprised.”

The final party before the beginning of spring break was always a laid back affair.

Many people had already caught planes to their various destinations, but your flight was scheduled for early tomorrow morning—leaving you with some time to kill.

Taehyung pressed his newest experimental concoction into your hand within minutes of entering the house (a surprisingly neat bachelor pad owned by two seniors, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi) and then darted back to the kitchen to craft more questionable alcohol potions like a deranged party warlock.

You had just found a comfortable place on the couch and were contemplating whether sampling your best friend’s mad scientist elixir would be worth the probable damage to your body when—

“H-Hello...”

It was that sophomore from your Designations Studies class. What was his name again? Jungwoo? Jinwook?

“Jungkook,” you smiled, delighted to have remembered before it became awkward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You motioned to the empty cushion next to you and the man in question scrambled over like he’d won the lottery.

“I—I know we don’t know each other well, but I noticed you were absent during Professor Moore’s lecture on intimacy and scent consent so I—” he blushed deeply, “I wrote the essay for you—and I brought a copy on my flash drive if-if you want it.”

Your heart melted immediately.

“Oh my gosh Jungkook, that is so sweet of you!”

Your gaze darted over his muscular form and thick brown curls.

Sweet indeed.

“I don’t want to miss out on the learning though,” you pouted, placing a hand on his tattooed bicep. “Can you explain it to me?”

Jungkook nodded vigorously even as his wide eyes fell to where your fingers were sliding slowly over his chest.

Scent consent was a pretty basic and universally known concept, but you really were touched by the handsome sophomore's consideration.

Why not give him (and yourself) a little reward?

“Um so basically if two people are involved in...intimate activities—”

You leaned forward to nip his ear lightly and he whimpered.

“Like this?” you asked innocently.

“Y-Yes. Like that.” He gulped. “In an intimate situation consent or refusal can be smelled. The scent of refusal or reluctance in intimacy is strong, unmistakable, and has a high chemical potency.”

“Is that so?” you drawled, sliding over onto his lap. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his head and you bit back a grin.

He was adorable.

“Uh-huh—it—oh my gawd,” (you were nibbling on his ear again) “it can immediately block sexual arousal and performance in the other partner. Meaning, if consent is not present, then it becomes difficult or—ahh” (his voice began to waver under your continued attention) “—or even impossible to continue with intimate acts.”

Your hand slid up to his cheek, bringing him closer till your lips were almost touching.

“Then what does it mean if I’m still so turned on right now?”

“It means,” Jungkook shuddered—nearly delirious with your scent, “that I really really want you.”

Across the room, Park Jimin chuckled as he watched you seduce his enthusiastic friend.

Jeon Jungkook was such a sweet kid.

Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached.

“Wow... Some people are genuinely born blessed I suppose.”

Jimin turned to see Jung Hoseok eyeing the dimly lit corner where you and the eager young sophomore were exploring each other.

It was a rather...provocative spectacle. Not quite raunchy (you weren’t truly an exhibitionist)—just insanely sexy.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on the smooth curve of your thigh where Jeon Jungkook was currently holding on for dear life.

Lucky bastard.

“Ah you know how she is,” he sighed. “That boy isn’t going to get any farther than anyone else.”

It was relatively common knowledge that you liked to mess around but rarely—if ever— fully hooked up with anyone.

Jimin asked you about it once during a drunken game of truth or dare and you had just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of avoiding STDs (which—to be fair—was at least part of your motivation), but the truth was a little more complicated than that.

In terms of experience, you weren’t a virgin, but... you hadn’t actually had sex in years.

You loved the chase, the foreplay, the build-up—the game of cat-and-mouse between two people who were attracted to one another.

But the final consummation was always so…

Wildly unfulfilling.

Every encounter left you frustrated. Empty.

Grumpy—even.

So you stopped bothering with it all together. (That was what sex toys were for after all.)

At the end of the day you were perfectly content being labeled a tease—it meant that people tended to know what they were (or rather weren’t) getting into when they rolled the dice with you.

Besides…it hadn’t even put a dent in your throng of admirers.

You were sunny, spoiled, indulgent, almost universally adored—

And you loved every minute of it.

“You know…” Hoseok took a long sip of his drink. “I always thought she would end up with Taehyung, but it’s been three years.”

Like you, Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat and it was only natural that two beautiful and absurdly privileged people would gravitate to one another. You met at a freshman pledge party and had been an inseparable (and formidable) dynamic duo ever since.

The undisputed king and queen of campus.

Yes—maybe the two of you were a little self-absorbed at times, but it was hardly your fault that people tended to instinctively cater to the force of your combined looks, wealth, and charisma.

And it didn’t hurt that neither of you were ever intentionally cruel or unkind.

Just... habitually thoughtless.

(Though not when it came to each other. If anything your friendship was one area where you were both a little more human.)

Jimin shook his head.

“Nah that’s never gonna happen.” He tapped his nose. “They’re scent-crossed.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

Scent-crossed pairs didn’t smell sexually attractive to each other.

Like. At all.

No matter how physically or visually appealing an individual might be, it would be near impossible to form a sexual or romantic attachment to them if you were scent-crossed. Alphas, betas, and omegas were all subject to their noses first and foremost in the realm of attraction.

You and Taehyung smelled like comfort and home to one another...

But you were more turned on by a crisp cup of apple juice than you were his scent and the feeling was quite mutual.

He might as well have been your actual brother.

“That explains so much.” Hoseok snorted as he watched a drunken Taehyung do a flying leap on top of both you and Jungkook.

“Why is sunlight so offensive?” you croaked, dragging yourself and your luggage toward the boarding ramp next to an equally miserable Taehyung.

“The next time I book a flight before 9 AM, please shoot me,” he grunted.

Your parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a month-long European cruise so your best friend had graciously invited you to spend two glorious weeks of spring vacation at his family estate.

The invitation had actually come as somewhat of a surprise because—for all your closeness—Taehyung was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about his family.

Not that he was deliberately withholding information per se… It was just that he never really brought them up beyond an occasional passing comment.

The one time you did ask him about them directly he sighed and said—

“We’re very close, but… I suppose we’ve just gotten used to being very private.”

There was clearly more to the story, but you were confident that Tae would share it if and when he was ready.

“My parents are in Seoul opening a new branch of the company. They took my little sister with them and my older brother has his own house so it will be just us.” He snuggled deeper into the first class seat directly next to yours. “We’ll hang out by the pool and chill during the day, then hit up some of the new clubs or whatever at night.”

“So… No one from your family will be there?”

Perhaps the invitation was not so surprising after all.

“Nope. Just you and me and thirty acres of ocean front property.”

You grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Whose room is that?”

The two of you were lugging your bags down the main hall of Taehyung’s expansive mansion when a strange hint of...something caught you right by the nose.

Your friend turned to find you frozen and staring curiously at a familiar door near the balcony.

His eyes widened, but you were too preoccupied to notice his momentary concern.

“That’s just Jin’s room.”

A firm hand wrapped around your wrist and dragged you away, but your eyes stayed glued to the source of the mysterious scent until you were around the corner and out of sight.

Your suite for the next two weeks was right across the hall from Taehyung’s. There was a whirlpool, a full bath, a balcony, and an ocean view that would rival the cover spread of any travel magazine.

Tae headed for the shower (to ‘wash the airplane off’) immediately after showing you the room and you were thinking of doing the same except…

Your mind kept going back to that door and the hint of scent you detected.

There was something… different about it.

It was faint—and far from fresh (which made sense considering that one of the few things you did know about Kim Seokjin was that he hadn’t lived in this house for years).

But still…

The need to smell it again pressed insistently at the back of your mind.

Suddenly the sound of Taehyung singing raunchy lyrics in the shower carried over through the walls and you found your feet moving almost of their own accord.

What Tae doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you rationalized, making your way down the hall toward Jin’s door. Besides—it’s not as if I’m going to steal anything…

You just needed to find that scent again.

By the time your fingers closed over the knob every one of your nerves was strangely—acutely—alert but nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting behind the door.

Oh. My. Gosh.

“What a colossal nerd.”

The room was covered floor to ceiling in Nintendo memorabilia.

Bright primary colors assaulted your eyes from all directions in the form of action figures, posters, pillows, and every other conceivable merch variety known to man.

In the center of the suite stood a large king-sized bed covered in a custom black couture toile-style Mario-verse bed set (that looked every bit as expensive as it was geeky) and a mountain of high quality Nintendo character plush toys.

Everything was simultaneously luxe and nostalgic—a rare combination of sophisticated aesthetic balance and childlike indulgence.

And the scent was there.

It was faint and covered under layers of cleaner and air fresheners, but still lingering just below the surface—too weak for you to get a really good whiff, yet potent enough to torment you.

You moved forward unconsciously toward the strongest source of the hypnotic smell—the strangely inviting expanse of Kim Seokjin’s mattress.

Suddenly the urge to climb—no crawl—across the bed itself and roll around in it like a kitten in catnip gripped you out of nowhere.

“What the hell?” you muttered, rubbing absently over the mating gland at the base of your neck.

Something very odd was going on with your body.

Your restless gaze zeroed in on one of the stuffed toys piled atop his pillows. It was a cute little mushroom man your brain recognized as a Mario character named ‘Toad’.

Take it.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

You need it.

“Am I going insane?” you wondered aloud.

You have to take it.

Muscles in your hand began to twitch involuntarily. You bit your lip.

Bring it back with you.

Several minutes later a freshly washed Taehyung wandered over to your room and found you sitting perfectly still on your bed while staring off into space.

His head tilted in curious concern.

“Everything ok?”

You started a bit at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly.

“Never better!” you chirped—almost too brightly. “Let’s go get some dinner, I’m starving.”

Then you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward the kitchen—shutting the door before he could catch a glimpse of his brother’s stuffed Toad doll stashed underneath your pillow

“...a critical water main rupture in the city’s New Market district early this morning has forced several residents out of their homes as flood water swelled up to nearly two feet. The governor declared a state of emergency and ordered hotels around the city to accommodate the displaced citizens. Crews are still clearing the water and assessing damages. We expect—

“Hey!” you shouted through a mouthful of cereal, after Your best friend switched off the television, “I was watching that!”

“And what you should be doing is getting ready for the pool.” Tae snatched your cereal bowl and dragged you by your shirt collar toward the stairs. “It is the first morning of our vacation. I’m not trying to waste any time. Now go.” He shoved you forward, smacking your ass for good measure.

You swatted back at him half-heartedly as jogged back up to the room where you enjoyed a surprisingly restful sleep last night.

Kim Seokjin’s door glared at you accusingly as you shuffled past—unable to let you forget that you had kidnapped it’s little mushroom man in an unexplained fit of kleptomania, but that was a problem for your future self.

The you of right now was going to zen out in the Kim family's premium glass-enclosed indoor pool (it was still a little chilly for the outdoor pool) with her best friend and bask in the simple joys of good company and no responsibility.

...Or not.

A few minutes later you bounced into the living room wearing a simple black tankini with a cute floral cover only to find Taehyung on the phone with his head in his hands.

“Yes, sir. I understand… I...I know this is my responsibility...”

That didn’t sound good.

After a few more tense moments, Tae hung up and collapsed backward into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“That water main break you heard about on TV this morning was the last straw between the province and its current contractor. They called an emergency meeting for new bids.”

Your heart dropped as you sank down beside him.

“Your dad wants you to go...doesn’t he.”

Taehyung nodded miserably.

“He can’t leave the Seoul opening on such short notice and managing government construction contracts is part of what I’ve been training for. This could be huge for our company.”

“Well...why doesn’t your brother go?”

“Jin is the brains behind most of our patented gaming and tech innovations. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with this sort of thing. Besides,” his lips quirked up in a rueful grin, “my brother doesn’t have the patience to stroke entitled geriatric egos for hours on end—which is likely what I’m going to have to do.”

The two of you headed back to Taehyung’s room where you helped him pack some suits and toiletries for his trip.

Naturally you were disappointed but...this was a great opportunity for your best friend to prove himself in his chosen field and you both knew it. In fact, he was already starting to brighten a bit.

“The meeting is about a hundred miles north of here. My dad’s secretary already handled the flight and hotel room.” His eyes darted around the suite to see if he was forgetting anything.

It was clear he was nervous, though you were sure he didn’t need to be. Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat, but he was also talented and deeply passionate about his family’s company.

Someday this would be the norm. The two of you were stealing time in college, determined to live a little before the expectations of your powerful families transferred fully onto your shoulders.

It was becoming more and more clear, however, that your carefree time was slowly running out.

Mother had already spoken to you about potential marriage alliances and your father expected you to intern with his Vice President this summer just as your elder sister had...

Taehyung’s voice suddenly interrupted your bittersweet introspection and you couldn’t help but smile at how grown-up he looked in his suit and briefcase ensemble.

Everything was going to change, but not quite yet.

“They estimate negotiations should take around a week or so…” He walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. “There should still be some vacation left for us when I get back.”

“Hurry back then,” you mumbled grumpily into his chest and he chuckled.

“I will.”

Taehyung had been gone for less than twenty minutes when you decided that the best use of your time would be to eat more snacks.

The last thing you expected when you skipped merrily into the kitchen was to find it occupied by a shaggy-haired homeless man in glasses.

Your first instinct was to scream which caused the homeless man to drop the apple he was biting right onto the floor where it rolled around for a small eternity before coming to rest at his ankles.

Your second instinct was to grab a butcher’s cleaver from the nearby knife block and wave it chaotically at the intruder while shouting something along the lines of—

“You’ve made a huge mistake! My boyfriend is the biggest, meanest mafia boss in Seoul! Leave now and he might let you live!”

The homeless man continued to stare at you with a mixture of confusion and shock, but made no move to run away in terror like you were hoping.

So you tried again.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! The last man who touched me drinks his steak through a straw now! Do the smart thing and leave before my boyfriend comes down those stairs and it’s too late!”

Infuriatingly, the homeless man was still not fleeing for his life and frankly you were starting to get frustrated. You drew in a deep cleansing breath and were prepared to issue another grandiose threat when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, miss. I... think there’s been some sort of mistake. Who is your boyfriend?”

There was no rational explanation for what came out of your mouth next, but it rolled off your tongue so smoothly and you didn’t even flinch.

“Kim Seokjin.”

For the first time in your entire exchange, the intruder looked truly alarmed.

Now that’s more like it.

“You’ve heard of him I see. He’s a dangerous man and my body belongs to him.” You slammed the cleaver down onto the countertop with a (hopefully) menacing slash. “Kim Seokjin doesn’t like when other men put their hands on what belongs to him.”

There was a long, unpardonably tense moment of silence…Then the stranger slowly reached forward and picked up a mobile phone from the table in front of him.

His eyes remained locked with yours as he pressed a quick series of buttons, brought the phone to his ear, waited a few seconds and said—

“Taehyung… Would you mind telling me why there is a half-naked, knife-wielding omega in our kitchen claiming to be my girlfriend?”

Hello! Please comment on this post if you would like to be added to the taglist!

You guys were all so wonderful, and encouraging, and excited that I literally got this teaser out in three days! If you like what you read so far, please let me know! I cannot put into words how meaningful and valuable feedback is to me. I truly treasure it! It fuels my creativity and keeps me writing. I would love to hear from you!

[evilwickedme]

Short fic challenge - 3 for either Elektra of Hardison, your choice!

3 is character meta and I do feel like I've sort of done that with Hardison in As The Stories Go. It's admittedly just under 3k instead of under 2k but it is short and like mostly about how Hardison views love so we're going to do Elektra!!!! Which is great because I love her!!!!

Also on AO3

Pairing: Matt Murdock/Elektra Natchios

Tags: Character Study, Biting, Scratching, College era, Canon Compliant

Strawberries

Elektra enjoys things to the fullest. When she eats, she dining on food prepared at three star Michelin restaurants; when she books hotel rooms, she stays in penthouses that cost more than some people’s entire life’s salaries; when she buys clothes, she has her pick of designer brands, fitted exactly to her liking.

Elektra enjoys things to the fullest, which is why it’s so insane that this boy, this boy who knows nothing of luxury is the one she falls so hard for.

He’s supposed to be her mission. He’s supposed to be…

“Strawberries, Matthew,” she says. “It’s just strawberries.”

But the look on his face when he takes a bite, when she feeds them to him, the red staining his lips – she kisses the look off his face, bites his lip, hoping he bleeds, hoping he bleeds for this, for luxury, for her.

*

She takes him to a nice restaurant and orders for him.

Including Matthew.

*

She drives the fastest car he’s ever been in and the wind is on his face and he closes his unseeing eyes and she wonders, she wonders what he can sense past the windshield and whirlwind and engine. She isn’t jealous, she’s never been capable of jealousy – not when she’s always gotten everything she’s ever wanted.

They go to bed and she takes and takes and takes and he gives and gives and gives and she bites his shoulder, the inside of his thighs, and he scratches her back, her stomach, and she feels like she should feel like she has everything.

*

“Kiss me,” she says, and he always obliges.

*

“Fight me,” she says, and he grins like the devil in him is set loose.

*

But he doesn’t know, maybe he can never know. He doesn’t know that she was sent to corrupt him, to make him more like her, more like Stick.

“Fuck me,” she moans, and Matthew – darling Matthew – he is so good for her, he is so – so –

*

Stick asks her –

“What the fuck is taking so long?”

And she tells him it’s a slow process, that she thinks she has it in him, she just needs more time –

“Foggy wants to meet you,” Matthew says.

And meanwhile, she luxuriates in his presence, in the knowledge that he’s all hers, all hers, all hers.

*

She scoffs. “The roommate?” she asks. “Why?”

“He’s my best friend,” Matthew says, frowning. “He wants to meet you because – we’re – “

He doesn’t say boyfriend or girlfriend; he doesn’t say dating or partners; he doesn’t say anything, because what they are, they both know, is everything. This “Foggy”, with his ridiculous nickname and pathetic existence, is nothing.

“Sure,” she lies. “Sometime.”

And then she asks, “Can I tempt you – “

She wakes up and the bed is still warm, but empty. She can hear a frustrated voice from the other room, but she doesn’t have Matthew’s sense, can’t just hear what he’s saying through the closed door. She tiptoes from the bed, opening the door just a crack, knowing it’s greased to perfection and will not make a sound.

She doesn’t finish the question. She knew - they both knew - he’d say yes. Before she even asked the question.

*

“It’s not that simple, Foggy,” he’s saying. “Of course I – yes, I’m keeping up with the homework. I’m doing fine. Elektra – “ He sighs. “Yes, I know. I know. But I’m really fine. Great, even. I’ll stop by the dorm tomorrow, and we can – we can spend the night out together. Go to Josie’s, even, you know she’ll serve us even without the fake IDs. Foggy. Foggy, you know – you know you’re my best friend. Yes. Right. Love you. Good night, Foggy.”

She’s –

There’s this feeling, inside of her.

Like she doesn’t –

Elektra and Matthew.

Like maybe she never –

*

They don’t need anything else.

They shouldn’t need anything else.

But Matthew’s insistence on –

On holding onto something like –

So inconsequential –

Why. That’s the question. She can’t understand why he’s holding onto Foggy, to his past, when Elektra’s his future. She doesn’t understand why he’s not hers, entirely, the way she thought he was. And most of all –

Most of all, she doesn’t understand why she feels this feeling, so close to jealousy. When she knows she has everything.

*

She has everything.

*

She has everything.

*

And if she doesn’t.

She thought –

*

If she doesn’t have everything.

She’s going to take it.

*

(And when it fails – when he doesn’t kill – when he proves that she never really had him at all –

She takes Matthew to his destiny.

*

She has never known anything worse.

She knows, now. She knows she’ll never have Matthew.

She’ll never have him again.

She might have everything else.

But never him.)

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

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

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

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

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

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

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

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

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

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “As in bi-curious?”

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

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

    ||\\

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

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

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

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

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

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

  He’s lying. You can tell.

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

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

  He’s angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

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

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

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

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

  “Tell you what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

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

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

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

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

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

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

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

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

  “You’re bossy today.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

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

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

        ||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Thank you.”

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

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

  “Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

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

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

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

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

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

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

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

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

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

  “Last time you said that…”

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

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

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

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

||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

  “What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Well, shit.

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

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

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

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

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

  “Who is it?”

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

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

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

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

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

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

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

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

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

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

 ||\\

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

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

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

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

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

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

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

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

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

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yoongi, what-“

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

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

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

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

   Brother?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Why not?”

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

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

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

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

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

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

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

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

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

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

   ||\\

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

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

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

  No. He promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I’m sorry.”

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

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

  “What, now? Y/N-“

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

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

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

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

  “I won’t.”

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

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

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

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

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

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

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

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

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

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

 ||\\

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

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

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

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

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

  “H-How come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

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

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “My place.”

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

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

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

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

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

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

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

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

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

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

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

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

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

  “Not even then.”

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

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

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

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

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

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

  Alright. Great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “B-But the protocol-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

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

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

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

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

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

  “So you rebelled?”

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

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

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

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

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

  “Because of the devil, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

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

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

  “Then why?”

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

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

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

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

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

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

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

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

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

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

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

  “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

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

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Can we go home, please?”

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

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

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

[hopelesshawks]

Love and Admiration Part 15- Adrenaline

18+ Bakugo x fem!pro hero reader

Summary: (Y/n) has known Bakugo since middle school, admired him since high school, and had a crush on him since the first time they met. Even now, a top pro hero in her own right, she can’t shake her school girl crush. Too bad Bakugo literally has no idea she exists. Well that’s not entirely true… He does know pro hero Mercury exists, but (y/l/n) (y/n)? Never heard of her.

Warnings for unprotected sex, semi-public sex, lots of dirty talk, mention of reader having a vagina, fingering, dom/sub dynamics, creampie/minor cumplay, size kink, and like one (1) line that’s sort of degradation

Masterlist Help Lulu <3

Bakugo looks surprised when you show up to Ground Zero in a cropped hoodie and jeans instead of your hero costume. “What the fuck are you wearing?” he asks although by now you know him well enough to know he doesn’t mean it as negatively as it sounds. “Hero costumes would be a little bit conspicuous don’t you think Mr. Explosion Murder God,” you reply with a raised eyebrow before making a pointed glance at the large gauntlets of his own costume. The overall design of Bakugo’s costume has gotten a lot more streamlined since the two of you were in high school, with some of the flashier pieces being done away with, but a lot of the core elements have stayed the same. You can tell the moment he realizes you have a good point because he gets a vaguely disgruntled and yet begrudgingly accepting look on his face as he declares he’s going in to change. It shouldn’t be nearly as endearing as it is. Kirishima walks out shortly afterwards to start his patrol so the two of you get to take some time to catch up and he keeps you occupied until Bakugo returns. The man looks absolutely sinful in a gray Henley, the sleeves once again pushed up to his elbows, and jeans. Kiri has to nudge you hard in the side to snap your attention back to him, much to your chagrin. It doesn’t seem to bother him though as he just waggles his eyebrows at you before declaring he’s heading out with a wave. “What were you talking to shitty hair about?” Bakugo asks, his eyes narrowing at his friend. “Ah nothing much, just catching up. We should do a big hang soon, it’s been awhile since I saw Denki and Midoriya too,” you note. “Whatever,” Bakugo grumbles as you start leading him to the warehouse. “I know you hate this kind of thing but could you coordinate with the guys? I’ll handle the girls and maybe I can swing Shinso too. I just think it’d be nice since I kind of ruined their reunion yknow?” you shrug. Bakugo gives you a look then, almost calculating, as he tries to figure out what to say. “You didn’t ruin anything dumbass. I’ll talk to the idiots about it,” he finally tells you. “Yea?” “Yea. Now hurry up and take me to this fucking warehouse.”

You hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to stay unrecognized even in your civilian clothes. Multiple times you and Bakugo have to duck your heads close together or squeeze into some alleyway to avoid someone recognizing who the two of you are. Thankfully as you get deeper into the warehouse district where it’s far less populated it gets much easier to maintain your anonymity. It doesn’t take long to find the warehouse in question and sure enough you can already see the high grade equipment in what is supposed to be an abandoned building. The two of you crept inside and made your way through the building, first identifying the two men you’d been tracking and then checking to make sure they were alone. Once you’d confirmed they were the only two around you and Bakugo attacked.

Bakugo could watch you fight for hours on end and be no less amazed by it. Your quirk isn’t in and of itself anything special but the way you use it is so effortless and it’s obvious you’ve taken a great deal of time to learn precisely how best to utilize it. Your fighting style is almost graceful in its execution and it’s what had initially drawn Bakugo to you and made him so sure you’d be taking a spot in the top ten this past season. It makes him want to show off more, as if in hope that maybe just maybe you admire his fighting skills as much as he admires yours. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to subdue the villains but then you get this look in your eye and immediately Bakugo is suspicious. “Take them outside and call the cops to round them up, I wanna check something out,” you tell Bakugo, already starting to drift deeper into the warehouse. “What the fuck are you up to idiot?” Bakugo huffs even as worry starts to creep in. “Just trust me! I’ll be right out,” you promise before rushing off before he can stop you.

Bakugo growls out his displeasure but there’s not much he can do other than listen to you. He grabs both the unconscious villains, hefting one over his shoulder as he drags the other outside. Bakugo does trust you so he stays put until the cops can show up and start cuffing the villains. When you still haven’t re-emerged by the time the cops are carting the villains away he decides to go back in after you. He’s inside maybe a couple minute before he finds you sprinting full speed towards him chanting a frantic litany of “shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” “What the hell-“ “We gotta move!” is the only explanation you provide before you grab hold of his hand and tug him hard after you. It doesn’t take long for Bakugo to match your pace but before he can interrogate you further he hears a loud booming noise erupting from deeper into the warehouse. He’s set off enough of his own explosions to know what one sounds like. The booming noises are only getting closer and closer and there’s no way the two of you are going to make it to the main entrance so Bakugo course corrects you both towards the nearest window. Just as the largest one yet starts to set the room the two of you are in aflame he grabs hold of you and pulls you into his body, shielding you from the blast as he sends you both flying out the window and into the back alley behind the warehouse.

The two of you manage to land relatively unscathed so you heave out a sigh of relief as you stand and brush yourself off before checking for injuries. “You good Dynamight?” you ask but before you can look to him for an answer you’re suddenly being shoved against one of the brick walls of the alley. “What the fuck were you thinking?” Bakugo demands, carmine eyes burning with his signature temper as he pins you to the wall with one arm across your chest, just below your collarbone, and his other hand planted on the wall next to you to stop you from escaping. “I was thinking that that bust would be for nothing if we didn’t destroy the supply chain as well,” you huff, not backing down even though being this close to Bakugo is admittedly distracting. “So the explosions were fucking intentional?” “Well I didn’t know they’d be that big!” “You could’ve gotten hurt!” “But did we die though?” Something in Bakugo visibly snaps at your flippant comment and you’re half expecting him to literally blast you through the wall you’re still pressed against.

Imagine your surprise when you feel his mouth on yours instead.

You’re quick to get with the program, kissing him back before he can do something stupid like pull away and it only makes him even more aggressive. The arm pressed to your chest drops so his hand can grasp onto your bare waist instead. He kisses you like a man possessed, every ounce of adrenaline and pent up lust fueling him as he slots his thigh between your legs and grinds in the most delicious way. His erection presses insistently into your hip and god it’s so fucking big. Your mind practically spins as fantasy becomes reality in front of you. It’s almost embarrassing how turned on you are already just from his kiss but then the hand at your waist sneaks up beneath your shirt to grasp at one of your breasts, squeezing and massaging with just the right pressure as his thigh once again grinds into that sensitive spot between your legs and you can’t help but let out a gasp. Bakugo takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, desperate to finally taste you the way he never could in his fantasies. The two of you shouldn’t be doing any of this in an alley of all places where someone may walk by, but that doesn’t seem to bother Bakugo at all as he uses the hand not currently fondling your breast to unbutton and unzip your jeans. He wastes no time slipping his hand past the waistband of your pants and panties to finally touch your bare sex and a possessive growl rips out of his chest as he feels for himself how much of an effect he has on you. “You’re so fucking wet for me already. You this much of a slut for everybody or just for me?” he growls in your ear as his fingers skate along your pussy, collecting your juices and so tantalizingly close to where you really want them. “Just for you,” you pant and it must be the correct answer because you’re rewarded with two of his dexterous fingers sliding inside of your cunt. Your hands fly to his shoulder and reel him in closer, fisting the material of his shirt as you keen and whimper. Your eyes squeeze shut, head bowing as the sensation of his fingers stroking along your inner walls continues to drive you insane. As amazing as his fingers feel though, your mind keeps wandering back to the bulge you’d felt against your hip only a moment prior and you know it isn’t enough. “P-please. I need-“ you beg but you can barely get the words out as he starts to rub circles into your sensitive clit. “Look at me,” Bakugo commands, the hand not currently shoved in your pants slipping back down to your waist. It takes a moment but finally you force yourself to look into his crimson eyes. “What do you need princess?” he asks and the pet name sends shivers down your spine. “Need you,” you whimper, as he continues to relentlessly plunge his fingers in and out of your desperate pussy, “all of you. Want you inside me.” “Say my name.” “Ba-“ “No. My first name dumbass. Then ask real sweet.” “Katsuki please, I need your dick inside me.”

You take it as a win that Bakugo, no Katsuki, curses under his breath as he pulls away just enough to use his free hand to undo his own jeans. You whine at the loss when he extracts his fingers from your aching core but use your resolve to finally, finally have his dick inside you as motivation to focus enough to shove your pants and panties down to your ankles. As Katsuki does the same your eyes widen as you take in the sight of his cock. You subconsciously feel yourself clench at the sight alone. He notices you staring as he steps between the v of your legs and over your jeans to get closer to you. “Like what you see?” “God yes, Jesus Katsuki you’re massive.” “You sure you can take it all?” “Abso-fucking-lutely.” Bakugo grasps hold of your thighs and hoists you up until your legs can wrap comfortably around his hips. The brick wall behind you helps distribute your weight as he lines himself up with your entrance. “Ready princess?” “Please,” you whine and the smirk you get in response makes your heart race even faster than it already has been. He pushes into you agonizingly slowly but even still it burns slightly as your body tries to accommodate his girth. “Too much?” Katsuki asks and there’s a gentleness there you’ve never heard before. You hurriedly shake your head no. “Just give me a second,” you tell him as you focus on relaxing to allow him in. It’s a shockingly intimate moment, the sounds of the city are a soundtrack you’re both oblivious to; all you two can hear is the sound of your breathing.

You finally lean forward and press your forehead to Katsuki’s. “I’m ready. You can move,” you tell him and he’s all too eager to oblige. He starts out slowly pulling himself out until only the tip remains inside your entrance before he snaps his hips forward, shoving himself back inside and making you see stars. “Still good?” “Fuck yes, do that again,” you moan and that’s all Katsuki needs to bring the smirk back to his face as he starts to really pound into you, his pace relentless now that he’s confirmed you can handle it. “I’m gonna fucking ruin that pussy of yours. Make sure nothing and no one can please you the way I can,” he growls possessively before capturing your mouth into a kiss again, swallowing every whine, whimper, and moan that comes out of your mouth. Your grasp onto his shoulders for dear life, probably leaving long scratches along his back from where your hands have scrambled for purchase but neither of you care. Nothing matters to you outside of the pleasant pull of Katsuki’s thick cock slipping in and out of your clenching pussy. “God you’re so fucking tight for me. I can feel you clenching princess, you gonna cum for me?” he asks. “I am. God I am, ‘m so close,” you whine. Katsuki shifts the angle just so and immediately you know it’s over as your vision whites out with a final cry of Katsuki’s name as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your entire body clenching around Bakugo as he desperately chases his own climax now that you’ve gotten yours. His rhythm stutters and gets sloppy as he gets closer and closer. He’s so focused on fucking into the tight, wet heat of your pussy still fluttering around him that it takes him by surprise when you whisper in his ear “Please Katsuki. Fill me up, make me yours.” “Fuck (y/n),” he groans and it’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced. The reality of finally having you this way far surpasses every fantasy he’s had about this moment and by the time his orgasm finally passes it’s almost overwhelming.

Bakugo lets you back down onto the ground almost gently, before slowly pulling out. He watches with rapt attention as his cum dribbles down from between your legs and he just barely stops himself from reaching over to push the bit that’s leaked out back in. Instead he forces his eyes to meet yours. He’s not entirely sure what he sees in the (y/e/c) depths of your gaze but it makes him panic, his cheeks flushing as he looks away. He wants to offer up round 2. He wants to invite you back to his place. He wants to make you moan his name and beg for his cock to fill you up but he can’t make himself say the words he wants to. The fact of the matter is that with the adrenaline now drained from his body and the lustful haze lifted, the great Bakugo Katsuki has lost his nerve. So even though he wants to ask “what are you doing the rest of the night?” he instead says “we should head back.” “Oh... right yea, of course,” you reply dazedly as Bakugo backs out of your space and quickly moves to pull back up his pants and underwear as you do the same. The two of you walk back to Ground Zero in silence, both still processing what’s just happened. “See ya around,” Bakugo tells you before striding towards the door to his agency. “Yea, see you,” you reply, equally as spaced out. You watch his retreating back until he actually enters the building and the door shuts behind him. As the door clicks closed you both have the same thought:

“What the fuck just happened?”

A/N: Kirishima definitely texted Mina the minute he realized the police had submitted the paperwork for y/n and Bakugo’s bust but the two of them hadn’t returned from the mission yet. They love gossiping about their two favorite horny idiots

Taglist: @pixelwisp @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @heroacadema @kozukatsuki @captaincyberqueen @undead-nyx @ineedtofocusfr @i-heart-fictional-boys

[behindheremeraldeyes]

damirae week 2021 Wednesday, May 5th - holiday & vacations title: love is in the air summary: When his brother decides to mess with him as a Holiday prank, Damian ends up having to travel in coach like the rest of the mortals. Eventually, though, he learns that turbulence can strike even before the plane takes off.

.

“What do you mean by coach class?”

His brows are furrowed when he asks her that, a puzzled expression taking over his face. Expectant, green eyes are on the flight attendant in front of him, as he waits for her to provide him a little more information on the matter. She’s growing anxious the longer he stares at her, a nervous tic making her left eye tremble whenever she tries to maintain eye-contact. Apparently, she knows who he is— of course she does— therefore; he believes it’s safe to presume she understands why he’s so confused.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Wayne, but that’s what your ticket says.” She explains, her voice laced with nervousness as she shows him the printed paper with his name written on. Damian is not blind— far from that, actually. He can see all the information written on that paper, but no matter how much he tries, he still can’t comprehend the ‘coach’ part. He has been traveling by plane for as long as he can remember, and never once has he deliberately chosen a seat in coach— in fact, never once has he chosen a seat at all, since he has a secretary of his own. A very competent and well-paid one, for the matter.

Such a primal mistake like this has never happened in all the years they’ve been working together. Something must have happened, he knows.

“I believe there must have been some mistake.” He states calmly, his demeanor unaltered. “Could you please check it again? The people at my company would never make such a trivial mistake.”

“Of course, I understand completely. I’ll try checking it on the system to see if I can find anything.”

Her fingers move rapidly across the keyboard, and he studies her face, looking for a hint of what’s actually happening. She’s still nervous, he can tell, and if anything, that’s not a good sign. It means she’s not finding the problem in the system, and if she’s not finding it, it means the said problem doesn’t exist. And if it doesn’t exist— well— something must have happened at Wayne tech.

How odd, he ponders.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Wayne, but there really has been no mistake. Your ticket was ordered last Wednesday night, and it is as I’ve told you, see?” She turns the monitor so he can see, probably so he won’t hold it against her or anything. “You know, it’s quite common for some of our clients to make this kind of mistake. Perhaps you forgot to select the first class? “

“Highly unlikely. My secretary always double-checks everything.”

“Well, both the coach class and the seat were chosen by your secretary last Wednesday night. Are you sure nothing unusual happened when he ordered the ticket for you?”

“I’m positive. It was a normal Wednesday and— wait.” He suddenly stops. His emerald eyes blink once, twice and a third time, a blank expression taking over his handsome face. ”Did you just say he?”

Once he allows her words to sink in, Damian questions the integrity of his ears. Perhaps, after all of those years fighting crime and handling explosives, they might not be working as perfectly as they are supposed to.

He must have heard it wrong because, last time he checked, Mrs. Miller was not a man. She’s a conservative woman who’s around her 60s, and even if that doesn’t mean a thing anymore, she has never once told him anything about switching genders. If anything, she’s always the one lecturing Jason about finding a kind woman such as herself.

Still, a stranger such as the woman standing in front of him could never know such personal things about Mrs. Miller’s life. Things are not adding up. And for he is his father’s son, he wants to know why.

“Oh, yes. I presume the name Richard belongs to a man, no? It’s the name of the account who’s booked you this flight.”

“Richard?!” He questions, and it only takes him a second to put all the pieces of that silly puzzle together.

Grayson, you bastard.

Now it all makes perfect sense. Of course he had to be behind this childish act. Who else would have enough free time to waste before the Holidays just to prank a busy, young man such as himself? His older brother might be respected by many of their super friends, but more than anyone, Damian knows he is but a child filled with hormones. He probably thought it would be funny to make his little brother travel for hours in coach as a commoner, where he would have to sit next to a stranger.

That worthless manwhore.

However, he won’t let his predecessor have the last laugh. Grayson did this solely to piss him off and throw him out of his comfort zone, therefore, the best revenge should be handling the situation without creating a fuss. Damian is going to accept the conditions without putting up a fight, and his brother’s victory will have a bitter taste.

Yes, that’s how a real man gets his personal revenge. He will endure a six-hours flight home in coach class like a pro, and he will show the first Robin not to mess with the newest generation.

A proud smirk, then, takes over his lips. That certainly should teach him a lesson—well, that and the explosives Damian plans to hide in his brother’s bedroom, of course.

“Mister Wayne, I’m terribly sorry about all this. I—“

“No need to be sorry. In fact, I should be the one apologizing for all of these questions now that I know what happened.” He starts, placing his hand on his chest as an apologetical gesture. “You see, Richard is my older brother. He’s not as smart as the rest of the family, so it’s highly likely that he’s made this mistake.”

“Oh, I understand. I guess every family has one of those, right?”

“You have no idea. Now, Karen.” He says, finally paying attention to the name written on her uniform. “I’m incredibly sorry for wasting your time. Without further ado, I will head to my seat.”

“Mister Wayne, you’re very kind, indeed.” She starts, a blush tinging her cheeks. With a staple, she makes small holes on his ticket before handling it back to him. “I hope you have a safe flight to Gotham.”

“Yeah, me too.”

His voice doesn’t sound as irritated as he feels, and that alone is a big victory. Without wasting more of his precious time, Damian walks towards the jet bridge so he can finally board the plane. A couple walks behind him, chuckling as they talk about how much fun it will be to go back home for Christmas.

Going home for the Holidays, huh?

An entire week at the Wayne Manor with his brothers and his father, sharing meals together and trying not to murder each other during their morning exercises. Though Gotham could not get any safer since the whole bat-family will be together, it is also the one time of the year when his murderous instincts are at their peak.

A tired sigh escapes his lips. That’s a problem for another time, he thinks.

Once inside the plane, his eyes search for the signs that will take him to his seat. For the first time in his life, he turns right instead of left— coach instead of first class— and suddenly, a small corridor is in front of him. For a moment, he feels like a cow heading for the slaughterhouse, as many other people are forming a line in front of him.

It’s hard to breathe and even harder to walk with all of those people trying to put their bags inside the upper compartments. He checks his ticket again. D21. According to the numeration pattern, he’s almost there, but he’s still not moving fast enough. All the simultaneous talk is driving him insane, and now he understands why some people choose to dope themselves as soon as they get inside the plane.

He doesn’t have any sleeping pills with him, but maybe if he punches himself with enough strength…

No. He can make it. Things will get better once he sits down and they take off. It can’t possibly get any worse than it already is, right?

Right?

A curse is muffled under his breath, and finally, he reaches his seat. For he knows how to travel light, Damian is quick to place his bag where it belongs and now he can establish himself. It’s a window seat, he notices, which means that soon there will be another person next to him, too close for his own liking. He knows there’s no use in picturing what kind of person it will be, but he can certainly hope it’s a nice one who knows how to respect his personal space.

If he or she doesn’t have vocal chords, Damian definitely won’t complain.

He closes his eyes for a moment, then, allowing himself to settle down and get used to his surroundings. It’s chaotic, he thinks, and he knows chaotic. Children are crying, some people are on the phone and others are just breathing too loud. He knows he’s whining like a brat, but it’s stronger than him. It’s annoying, and he swears if that lady keeps on talking about her 3 cats, he’s going to—

His inner monologue stops, his eyes widening for a moment. At last, he hears the one thing he hates more than Joker’s maniacal laughter. That unbearable sound that makes his head throb and makes his lips turn into a deep frown.

“Is that Damian Wayne?”

Teenage girls. And they know him.

Perhaps it’s the annoying giggle or even the way they keep on getting bolder every time they meet him, but Damian can’t stand them. They’re just too obnoxious— a real pain. He honestly doesn’t know why on earth they tend to approach him whenever they have the chance, especially since he’s sure he has never once paid them any attention. In fact, chances are he has even been rude to them on more than one occasion.

Trying to understand a teenager’s mind is beyond his capacity. Ignoring them, though doesn’t prevent them from returning, is the easiest way out, and when they come— because they will come— that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“Excuse me, Damian Wayne.” One of them says, her voice laced with excitement. Two more stand next to her, but he can’t really tell them apart. “It’s you, isn’t it? “

Jesus, can someone please knock him out already?

He crosses his arms at her words, his brows now knitted in annoyance. He’s pretty sure there’s nothing welcoming in his expression, but that won’t stop them from continuing. It’s not like they actually care about his feelings or anything.

“Oh, my god! It really is you!“ She claps her hands, biting her lower lip. “Can I get a selfie? Can I?”

“God, Mary. Can you be any more inconvenient?” The one on her left asks, pushing her friend away so she can take a step closer. “Forgive my friend. She can’t read the atmosphere like I can. If you want, I can send her away and keep you some company during the flight.”

“Ugh, get out of my way, both of you!” The third one pushes through, using her elbows to force her way forward. “Hi, I love you and I really mean it, Damian! I love you so much that, if you want, we can meet at the bathroom cabinet and I’ll show you.”

His eyes widen in horror at such proposal, and he’s almost sure this girl isn’t old enough to be saying such things. From the corner of his eyes, he watches as a bunch of people lift their phones to point at him, all of them waiting to hear his final answer so the dirty press can judge him.

Grayson is going to pay dearly for this.

This girl is insufferable. All of them are.

They’re causing all of that commotion, preventing people from walking down the small corridor and embarrassing him in front of all of those eyes. They can’t possibly think it’s okay to do or say those things so openly like to a man they know nothing about. Though the initial plan might have been for him to at least talk to them, Damian can’t bear any more hatred inside of him than at this very moment, and if looks could kill, those three wouldn’t be breathing anymore.

His hands turn into fists and he closes his heavy eyes so he can stop himself from committing a murder. Justice, not vengeance. His father’s words echo inside his head, and he’s having a really hard time trying not to think only about the second part. He really just wants to go home right now. And thankfully, he’s not the only one.

“Hum, excuse me…”

His ears detect a fresh voice, calmer and more mature. Instinctively, he opens his eyes to look at this new stranger, and he’s impressed by what he sees. She’s beautiful, he notices. Dark hair, violet eyes and ivory skin, all together to form an ethereal beauty like he has never seen before. Damian can’t help but keep looking at her, curious to know what she’s going to say on this matter.

“Hi!” She continues, her thin lips turning upwards in a smile. “I know you’re all busy trying to seduce this man with your oozing pheromones and irrefutable proposals, but in case you haven’t noticed, there are people trying to get to their seats here.”

“So what?” One of them says, a hand on her hips and a lot of attitude in her high-pitched voice. She’s trying to be intimidating, but it’s clearly not working. “Can’t you see who he is, you emo? He is—“

“I couldn’t care less about who he is.” The raven-haired girl cuts in, clearly not in the mood for that drama. “He could be Superman or even the president himself, for all I care. My problem is with you three airheads who are interrupting the flow. There are people trying to walk here and the airplane hallway is not a place to flirt with strangers who won’t even remember your face once we take off.”

“What!? Of course he will remember!” She glares. “We are—“

“Annoying the hell out of him? That you are. I mean, just look at his face! He looks like shit!” She points at him, violet eyes now meeting emerald ones. Her though expression suddenly melts into a softer one, her head tilting a bit to the right. “No offense, though.”

“None taken.” He answers, an amused smirk now taking over his face. She nods at him before returning her burning eyes to those three girls.

“Like the rest of us, this man just wants this damn plane to get him where he needs to be so he can move on with his life and get drunk during the holidays. We don’t want to be here. So, without further ado, could please you get the fuck out of the way before I lose my temper? ”

He doesn’t know what happens next or even how a small girl such as herself could be so intimidating, but at her words, he notices his three fangirls flinching. They’re avoiding eye-contact, and for the first time, one of them seems to grow aware of the crowd staring at them. The one standing in the middle starts to tremble, and though they’re looking at him as if searching for some sort of support, Damian can’t bring himself to offer them anything slightly remote to that.

In fact, if he has to pick sides, he wouldn’t need to think twice before taking the brunette’s.

“I-I… I—“

“You what?” She asks, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. Her pose holds no hesitation as she stands her ground. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? “

With a 'tch’, the three girls finally walk away, returning to their respective seats with their heads hanging low, and he can’t help but feel incredibly satisfied by that. There’s a victorious smirk on her face, and it’s safe for him to assume she’s also feeling pretty good about what she just did.

What an interesting woman, he thinks. All that sass and eloquence are certainly eliciting his curiosity, and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he can’t help but feel slightly turned on by this stranger.

Interesting, indeed.

While Damian is still trapped in his thoughts, a round of applause takes over the airplane, as people congratulate the raven-haired girl. They pat her shoulders, thank her for getting rid of those girls, and she even laughs once the old lady behind her tells her they don’t make girls like her anymore. For a quick moment, she becomes the hero they didn’t know they needed, and for sure, this is going to be a pleasant story to tell during Christmas dinner.

They will portray her as the girl who saved their flight.

Damian, however, will portray her as the one who told his fangirls to fuck off.

He really needs to thank her for that. Fortunately, he will have over six hours to do that.

Before the Wayne heir can bring himself to form the words in his head, the girl is placing her small bag in the compartment above their heads. As she lifts her arms, her shirt lifts, momentarily exposing her belly. Even if it was just for a brief second, she catches him staring, and once their eyes meet, he looks away, his cheeks growing slightly warmer.

He sees as she slowly shakes her head before sitting next to him, and though he was not expecting a girl such as her, he’s currently thanking the superior forces for the partner destiny has chosen to be his seat-mate. She’s beautiful, her voice is not annoying, and the best part is that she doesn’t seem to give a crap about who he is.

Maybe he’s finally going mad because of— well— everything, but right now, Damian trulls believes that he might even fall in love with this girl.

A sly smirk takes over his lips, and he can’t help but stare at her for a little too long. She watches as he does so, and as expected, she doesn’t feel embarrassed or inhibited at all. Instead, she stares back, eyes squinting a bit in sheer mockery. A questioning look spreads across her face, and he decides that he should be the one saying something. Anything, really.

“You’re mean.” He states, as if that’s the biggest truth in the world. She tilts her head, but his words don’t seem to affect her.

“So what?” She asks, not really caring about his answer as she fastens her seatbelt. ”If you didn’t like the way I talked to your fan girls, you can go and apologize to them, be their hero or whatever. Though, if you’re really gonna go meet them at the bathroom cabinet, I suggest we switch seats so we don’t bump knees every time you have to go.”

She’s a spirituous one, he notices. And if he’s not careful, he might be the next victim of her graciously rude words. “Nah, don’t worry about it. As you’ve pointed out before, I don’t even remember their faces anymore. Your knees can rest assured.”

“Thanks, I guess?” She lifts her brows, not bothering to spare him another glance as she adjusts her dark clothes. There’s a book resting over her lap— Christmas Carol, for what he can see— and she uses her small fingers to tug a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah…” He shakes his head, forcing himself to focus. “By the way, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I am Damian— “

“Save it. I know who you are, Wayne. I might not be the most updated person in this world, but even Eskimos know your family. Don’t worry, though. I promise I’m not a disguised reporter or an annoying fangirl.”

“Not with that attitude, you’re not. Your clear lack of interest in my personal life can only be matched by only one other person I know.”

“Oh, really?” She asks, her eyes now turning to face him. Now that they’re so close to each other, he can see how bright they really are, and for a moment, he thinks she might even have hypnotic powers because he just can’t look away. There’s a curious tone lingering over her words, and he wants to believe she’s actually paying attention to him this time. “And who would that be, if I may ask?”

“My father.” He answers bluntly, and he notices as she she chokes back a giggle. There’s a soft smile decorating her lips now, and the surrounding atmosphere feels a lot lighter.

“Rachel Roth.” She sticks out her hand to him, and without hesitation, he shakes it carefully. Her hand is soft against his calloused one, and he notices the way she brushes her thumb over his skin. It’s a delicate and pure gesture, so fleeting that makes him wanting more as soon as he releases her from his grip.

“Well, Rachel…” Her name rolls out of his tongue as he tests the sound of it. It has a nice ring to it, he notices. “I think I need to thank you for saving me from a huge headache back then. Seriously, I owe you one.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I didn’t really do it for you, so you don’t need to thank me or anything. I just wanted them to get out of my seat, that’s all.”

“Selfish or not, you still got rid of them, so… thanks. “

“Well, if that’s the case, you’re welcome, Damian.” Rachel nods at him, the same smile still decorating her face. She picks up her book, then, flipping through the pages so she can pick up from where she had left. The way she says his name— so simple and unpretentious— makes his lips curl upwards, and all the bad feelings from before disappear.

This girl— Rachel— she’s showing what a life away from the streets and the business meetings must feel like. The conversation flows easily and effortlessly, to the point where it’s hard to believe they’ve met not even 30 minutes ago. It feels natural in a way very few things in his life do, and though he knows it’s not meant to last, at least he will cherish this moment before it turns into a fading memory in the depths of his mind.

Moments of pure joy shall fade into oblivion, that’s one of the most important rules of his life.

Thankfully, the internet is forever.

An unexpected buzz inside his pants breaks his train of thought. At first, he decides to ignore it, but after the third time, he gives up on the idea. Silently, he scoffs in annoyance, fishing his phone from his pocket. He presses the side button, then, the screen lighting up to reveal a couple of notifications. His eyes, though, land on three particular messages from his family’s group chat:

Grayson: I ship it

Drake : what happened, Damian? Are you okay?? Todd : hot and feisty. The best kind of girl, little bro

His brows furrow in confusion at his brothers’ messages. For what he can conclude, they’re talking about a girl he knows and has interacted with, but that’s pretty much it. The only female human in his mind right now is Rachel, and there’s no way for them to be talking about her. He’s not being followed or bugged, for all he knows— and he knows.

Something strange is happening, and he wants to know what. The youngest Wayne, then, texts them a single ‘?’ and almost immediately, Dick sends him a link to an Instagram page. He’s growing more confused with every additional information, but figures it must be just another one of Grayson’s stupid pranks.

He sighs at the thought. Isn’t he a bit too old for that?

An annoyed pout takes over his lips as a clear sign that he just wants to get this stupid thing over with. Once he taps on the link, though, it takes less than a second for his eyes to widen and his bored expression change into a surprised one. The video playing is muted, but he doesn’t need any volume or subtitles to know what the raven-haired girl in it is saying.

Oh… That angle does make her look nice.

He blinks twice as he allows the whole thing to sink in. Apparently, all of that show earlier was recorded by some cameras and posted all over the internet. There are many posts about it, with all possible captions and comments about them, and he has to admit some are quite creative. Apparently, they’re the new internet hits, not that Damian really cares about it. He’s used to all the lies and overreacted dramas, but if he were to be honest, this one is making him quite intrigued.

Not by the gossip itself, no. That would never happen.

This time, he’s intrigued by how the girl next to him will react as soon as she finds out.

From the corner of his eyes, he watches as she’s calmly reading her book, waiting for the plane to take flight. She’s immersed in Charles Dickens’ words, and it’s like the entire world around her can’t interrupt her. It’s just her and the book, and for she hasn’t touched her phone since her arrival, he’s quite sure she doesn’t know what’s happening in the digital world.

At least, not yet.

He’s definitely going to tell her.

“Uh… Rachel? ”

“Yes, Damian?” She answers, her eyes not bothering to leave the pages of the book.

“Just a quick question… How do you feel about being the center of attentions? “

“I hate it. Why?”

“Well, you might have to reconsider this…” His voice falters and he slowly massages the back of his head.

“Oh, and why would I do that?” She looks at him, at last, her brows now arched. Her expression is blank, and he suddenly wants to laugh because she has no idea of what’s coming.

“Here, check this out. ”

He gives her his phone, a smirk decorating his face. Slowly, he watches the video playing once again on the small screen, all life slowly fading from her pretty face. Her eyes widen, her lips part, and she places her fingers on her left temple. Her cheeks are growing redder than a tomato, and once the video ends, she is completely dumbfounded.

“Wha-what the hell!?“ A couple of seconds pass until she says something, her voice a little too loud, and her eyes filled with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “What’s the meaning of this, Damian!?”

“Well, I think people enjoyed your bossy words from many different angels”” He starts, taking his phone back and scrolling through his time line. His voice sounds too excited for her liking, and it’s easy to tell he’s trying to hold back a laughter. “You went viral, Rachel. ”

“No no no no.” She repeats, slowly shaking her head in denial and taking her own phone in hands. With trembling fingers, she opens her Instagram page and a rush of follows and mentions makes her eyes widen even more. “I can’t believe this is happening. ”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” Damian tries to calm her down, but the joy in his voice takes all of his credit away.

“Not that bad?!” Her eyes are glaring at him now, cheeks puffed in pure anger. “I got remixed, Damian!”

A sly smile takes over his lips, and he’s]really trying not to laugh in front of her. “And it’s a good remix. Besides, for what I can see, most people are on our side.”

“Our side? I was just trying to reach my seat. There’s no our side, Damian.”

“Well, apparently, there is. Look.” He leans towards her, absentmindedly, until he’s close enough to feel her embarrassment exhaling from her. Their knees are brushing, but neither of them seems to be aware of that closeness right now. He shows her his phone one more time, a couple of comments now displayed. “Some people are even shipping us already. #Damirae.”

A defeated whimper escapes her lungs, and finally, she locks her phone-screen. Apparently, Rachel can’t look at all that anymore, and decides to just sink into the seat. Her hands are covering her face, and her voice is muffled when the next words come out. “Ugh, this is a nightmare.”

“Try looking at the bright side. This video can make you famous. I’m sure the media already loves your sarcasm. “

“If you haven’t noticed, Wayne, I’m a goth.” She spreads her hands across her face so she can look at him through the space between her fingers, and he can’t help but find that utterly adorable. “I don’t do bright side. ”

“God, you’re so dramatic.” He also locks his phone, placing it back inside his pockets. His torso turns around so he can face her properly, that same smirk still planted on his lips. “It’s just a video, relax. Most people will soon forget about it.”

“Some people? And what about the others?” Her voice is lower now, shier, as if she’s really seeking some sort of comfort— not that he’s even trying to offer her any.

“Oh, we will remember this forever, don’t worry.” A dry chuckle escapes his lips, and he notices the way her expression melts in response, tension and nervousness now gone.

Damian is having the time of his life, not only because the video was, indeed, funny; but also because he’s getting to see another side of this interesting girl who’s sitting next to him. Even if she really is bothered by the whole thing right now, eventually, he trusts that she will get over it and realize that no one gives a damn about stuff like that.

It’s just a temporary thing. A funny story for the future.

Rachel will survive it. And he—well…

He’s just found himself an excuse to follow her on Instagram.

“You jerk.” She chuckles, finally placing her hands on her lap and adjusting her posture. She takes a deep breath, then, as if she’s trying to recompose herself, but he notices the way she shrinks a little once she realizes the couple next to them are staring. Her body turns towards his, a sign that she feels somehow safe with him.

And for that, he’s extremely glad.

“That’s a new thing.” Damian states, mockery no longer lacing his voice.

“What is?” The girl questions.

“You’re laughing.”

“So what?”

“It’s nothing, really. It’s just… cute.”

Her cheeks grow red once more and she bites her lips. For a fraction of a second, she turns away from him, but soon, her amethyst eyes are once more looking into his emeralds ones. “Shut up, will you? You’ll need more than that if you want your Damirae fantasy to come true.”

“Oh, so are you saying I have a chance, Rachel?” He teases, knowing very well she didn’t mean it like that. Still, he figures he can’t waste this opportunity. “Are you sure you’re not a disguised fangirl? “

“You wish, Wayne.“ She smirks, offering him a side glance as she picks up her book again. “And I never said that.”

“You didn’t say the other way around, either.”

“Good point.” She nods, acknowledging his words instead of trying to deny them. “I guess you have the entire flight to make sure I keep it that way…”

There’s a flirty tone in her voice, and instantly, the Wayne heir is up for the challenge. Their eyes meet again, and for a moment, he thinks she’s checking him out. They smile at each other, exchanging that you-know-what look, and right now, he doesn’t think this flight will be long enough.

He wants to know more about her. He wants to play this push-and-pull game, and more than anything, he wants her phone number. And Damian Wayne win’t stop until he gets what he wants.

At last, the pilot makes his announcements, and for once, they break eye contact when the flight attendant passes by their seats, closing the compartment above their heads. Seat-belts are fastened, tables are up, and the crew is ready. They’re ready to take off.

fin.

-----

a/n: Well, there are not enough words to describe how much trouble I had with these prompts. I gave up on so many ideas and got so mad at everything that I’m impressed I even managed to write something in the end. Still, I’m glad to have written this one. I had a lot of fun with the dialogues and with every smirk I wrote! Hope you’ve enjoyed it, and please, tell me what you think!

[marindram]

full transcription of Marin's blog from Omega Mart!

huge thanks to @b0chelly for recording a scroll-through, which i typed this out from. (and warning for Omega Mart lore/story spoilers. second half is in reblog)

Marinknows.best

Location: Seven Monolith Village

Last Login: 12/31/2019

Profile Views: 101,275

About me: I love listening to music and glitter

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June 26, 2018

Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeee!

So 14 feels way different than 13. For real. I think it's because I was expecting 13 to feel different, but sometimes when you expect something it turns out the opposite ya know?

Plus, 13 is like, "I'm new to being a teenager!!"

14 is more like, "I'm becoming the person I want to be." At least that's how I want it to be. I wanted to start this blog as a record of all that.

I should ask Did you guys feel the same way when you turned 13 and 14?

But probably nobody's gonna read this because I'm just a weirdo in the weird dessert. I mean, I know my best friend Jesse is reading this (hi Jesse). Besides her, crickets.

But yeah, if you are reading this and you don't know me - I live in Seven Monolith Village, a teensy tiny town that you've only heard of if you're into aliens or homesteading. And I'm literally stuck. As in, I'm physically unable to leave. My first memories are of all the adults in my life (Charlie, my great-uncle/father-figure - Rose, my what? Roommate? Mother-figure? Pseudo-aunt? All of the above? and my mom, Cecelia. who doesn't live here) telling me that for some reason, there's something wrong with me that makes it so I can't leave a certain radius of where we live. I got older and thought that they were just exaggerating to keep me safe, but then last year I tried. And it was, let's just say not good.

Anyway. That part of my life sucks, but not everything sucks. This year is all about Marin Dram 2.0. Not new, but definitely improved.

And maybe someday, somehow somebody will read this and care about what I have to say. Somebodies, even. Until then, this is Marin Dram signing off and sending my lame contemplations into the void!

July 1, 2018

Things I Want To Do Before I Turn 20 (and some of these will never happen like are literally unable to happen but JUST LET ME DREAM

1. Kiss someone (who???)

2. Meet HTB (kiss him) (jk he would never) (plus meeting him would be enough)

3. Go to Paris

4. Go to Rome (or somewhere cooler in Italy, look up where is the best pasta???)

5. Go to Greenland (why not???)

6. Go to New York City

7. Go to LA (with a dream and my cardigan lol)

8. Go to the Grand Canyon (this isn't mine, but 9, Jesse is sitting right here and she went to the GC when we were 12 and she's like blah blah blah it's my favorite place in the world and you'll love it. I'm doing this so she'll shut up.

9. Live in a normal house with normal rooms → ideally 12 of them: living room AND TV room, kitchen, dining room, 3 bathrooms, 3 bedrooms, study/library.

-plus an upstairs downstairs

-I'm willing to compromise on the number of rooms as long as there's more than ONE for TWO PEOPLE and I got my own

-plus an upstairs/downstairs

-I'm willing to compromise on the number of rooms as long as there's more than ONE for TWO PEOPLE and I get my own room with an actual door. Very into doors.

10. Go to a mall (Jesse says there's a bunch of bonkers ones in Vegas)

11. Make friends who aren't Jesse (no offense, Jesse)

12. Get Cecelia (my "mom") to teach me about business stuff so I can open my own cool coffeeshop/bookstore someday

13. Learn to drive (ask Charlie to teach me, he's obsessed with his truck) (Jesse says she can teach me because she's Little Miss Mechanic and thinks she knows everything about cars but news flash Jesse: you're you get than me)

14. Figure out my signature style- like I want people to send me pictures of things and be like "this just screamed Marin" and for that to be true

15. Liquid eyeliner??

16. I'm stopping here because I just read over all this and want to die/cry because easily 3/4 of these are literally impossible?

17. Kill me

18. Bye

19. Lololol Charlie just came in and I was complaining about this, not being able to leave and stuff, etc and he said that I should visit new places by... reading books?? And I mean I like to read. But dude. That's the dumbest thing I've ever head.

July 30, 2018

Okay so this is what I want my life to look like:

I want a pink room. Not just pink... P I N K. Cool pink wallpaper (floral? jacquard??), pink carpet, lots of pink flowers everywhere, a four-poster bed with a pink silk canopy, lots of cool pink throw pillows. Like, so pink that

people think I'm being sarcastic! Oh, and BOOKS. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and some of the shelves have, like, STUFF on them that isn't books, like gifts people gave me, or things I've collected on my JOURNEYS. You know, normal stuff that people who live on normal places and do normal things have.

If I lived in in this room, it'd be in awhite three-story house at the end of a cul-de-sac (did you know "culs-de-sac" is the plural? Not "cul-de-sacs"? crazy) and I'd wear very classic girly clothes and my hair would always do what I wanted it to. It'd be one of those towns that people call small, but it's actually a city. just one with a kinda small, cozy feeling. Somewhere that gets cold enough to wear cute jackets but not so cold I have to to like, shovel my driveway. Not a non-place with like 100 people where you can't even go outside without going crazy.

August 2nd, 2018

I guess I should explain where I live, for all my avid fans out there! (lol) (hello??)

So like... I don't live on Earth. At least, not the Earth you think of when you think of EARTH. I live in some some weird off-brand version of Earth called the Forked Earth where there are aliens and magic wells of magic energy and everything is MAGIC but like the crappy kind of magic, where the sun never fully rises and some goo called "runoff" has made everything wacky and oh yeah, my mom is responsible for that and everyone here hates her!! LOL

Also, I can't leave! Like, literally can't! Rose says I'm a "special child of Source" and that's why but that LITERALLY explains tells me nothing, in fact it just raises further questions that no one can seem to answer! AHHHHHHHHHH

Anyway, the last time I tried to leave I felt. When I try to leave I feel like I'm being pulled back by something, like you know those old cartoons where someone's on stage doing something dumb and then someone offstage pulls them away with a giant shepard's crook? It felt like that, and when I opened my eyes I was back in 7 Monolith Village. UGH.

I know this sounds crazy!!!!! But believe me when I say that I am the least crazy person here. Also, """here""" is C R A Z Y. Runoff has made everything the bad kind of psychedelic and then people here actually DRINK IT! Not only do I not DRINK THE STUFF THAT HAS MADE THE WORLD INSANE, I also do not talk to aliens (or whatever Nula are) like Rose or believe crazy conspiracy theories like Charlie, so I believe that qualifies me as the most normal person in the Forked Earth, thank you for this honor, I accept this award with humility and grace!

September 4, 2018

I had the weirdest dream last night?? I was swimming in a pool full of cereal, and when I came up for air, my mom was pouring milk on my head like she was rinsing my hair. She had her hand over my face like I was a little kid and she was shielding me from soap getting in my eyes.

Anyway I have no idea what it's supposed to mean. I went to bed hungry and I need to take a shower? Lol

October 16, 2018

I was trying to hide this entry from Jesse, but JESSE IS A NOSY PERSON. She says that blogs are for readers, and if I wanted something to be private then I should "Just write in a fucking notebook and hide it under your bed like a normal person, Marin." I'm allowed to have secrets!! Anyway, I'm making her a freaking playlist, that's why I wouldn't tell her what I was writing about. but EVEN STILL! I'm allowed to have secrets!! But I have this blog because I wanna get my feelings out, I wanna see everything in my head typed out all nice in a way that doesn't make it look insane. You know? I don't know who I'm asking.) Because, it's not like I go to a normal school or have a normal life where I'm surrounded by normal people I can talk to. No one knows about me! I'm trapped in this crazy place and This blog is my only outlet to the world outside. I KNOW that's heavy but it's true! The point is: Jesse's birthday is coming up. The central consistent thing in pretty much my whole life is sharing headphones with her and listening to music. The soundtrack to my entire existence is her. I wish I had money and could buy her the best presents of all time, but I can make her the best playlist of all time. I want it to be so good it feels like magic. I want her to think I'm magic. I had another dream the other night. I don't remember much, just glitter. I must be crafting too much. Or looking at festival makeup tutorials. Or both.

November 12, 2018

WARNING- Weird thoughts ahead, lol.

I can never tell which feelings are normal, and which are me being a giant weirdo. But for as long as I can remember, I've had this feeling like every part of my body that's possible to have a ribbon tied around it, has a ribbon tied around it. It's so weird. I can't see the other end of the ribbons - how far they go. where they're attached, nothing. And sometimes it's fine, because sometimes I can hardly feel them. I can forget about them for days at a time, weeks, months if I'm lucky. But then other times I can feel them like, pulling at me. It's freaking spooky, to have something pulling at you from somewhere you can't see. I can't tell if it's pulling me toward whatever it is? Or if it's trying to warn me? Or if I'm just insane??

Does that make sense? Does anybody else feel that way? (she asks into the void)

So idk I guess this ribbons-feeling is why I'm really careful all the time. Like I'm just a careful person. Charlie tried to give me a hard time about it, and I can't be like "I don't wanna pull back in the ribbons too hard without realizing it and wreck something!" because he'd be like "WTF Marin, do we need to get you help?" But also, more and more, I want to be the opposite of careful. I want to take a pair of comically oversized scissors and cut the ribbons into so many pieces that nobody can even tell what they are any more.

I don't know why I'm such a freak, only that I am. I don't know why I can't leave 7 Monolith, only that I can't. But there must be a reason, even if I can't see it, and I feel like it makes sense that the ribbons-feeling is part of that reason, right?

There's just a lot.

January 15, 2019

Happy new year! Lol I forgot to write on the actual first day of 2019, but OH WELL!

I got this new glitter nail polish, thanks to the monthly makeup subscription box my "mom" sends me as an outlet for her abandonment guilt. It has like, every color glitter imaginable without quite reading as "rainbow" which is fine just not really what I was in the mood for and it's vaguely halographic and shifts into all these different colors depending on the light. I'm obsessed. Anyway.

I was putting on another layer because I chipped it like 20 minutes into wearing it, and all of a sudden I had this feeling like I recognized the glitter? Like I felt this thing way deep in my gut and for a minute I couldn't breathe. It's the closest thing I've felt to how books and movies make Christmas look. Like I was home, with family, cookies and cider and all that stuff. Familiar and safe. I almost didn't recognize that feeling. And it came from the nail polish. How weird is that.

I mean, I don't want to make it sound like I've had this awful Charles Dickens childhood - Rose and Charlie are the best ever and always there for me and I love them a lot. But things never feel like...home. You know?

My mom always says this cryptic stuff about how I'm "special" and I wanna strangle her because I'm not, but you try getting my mom to stop doing anything she wants to do. Rose told me once that one day, I would "lead the charge into a new era of existence and access" because I'm "of the Source" and I was like uhhhh okay?? Charlie mostly treats me pretty normal, except when I ask him questions about our family. my mom or any Dram. He knows that I want to know more about them and he's my only real entrypoint, but apparently he's like the black sheep of that whole family. He and my mom were close way back right before I was born, but now whenever she comes to visit he barely even looks at her.

So that's to say: nobody tells me anything, ever.

January 16, 2019

Okay this is so weird. I wrote that entry yesterday about glitter and then last night I dreamed about glitter. Then I woke up with purple glitter in my bed?? Like not a lot, so at first I thought it was from my nail polish, but it was just a handful of purely purple glitter that looks nothing like my nail polish. SO WEIRD!!!!!!

February 14, 2019

Rose has an old book full of "ye olde" style fairy tales, and I flipped through it for the first time in forever today.

Not so weirdly, I've always been drawn to the story of Rapunzel.

Rapunzel couldn't leave the tower, or else she'd break her neck and die.

Same.

February 19, 2019

I was reading this article the other day in one of the teen magazines my "mom" gets me a subscription to and it was all about body positivity, which is great, but it was basically just like "wear a crop top if you wannna wear a crop top! it doesn't matter what size you are! You go, girl!" And like, sure. Yes. I am all for that. But doesn't it seem like there are some steps missing in there? Like, I can physically put on a crop top and wear it outside. But how do I convince myself that everybody isn't looking at me and making fun of me in their minds? How do I unlearn the last almost-fifteen years? How do I get actually positive about my body, not just put on a crop top and fight the urge to cry all day?

It's the same thing like when my mom sends me brochures from the CEO camp she ten when she was my age (her dad started the camp for her, which is an insane thing just by itself, but she did all the work, which is even more insane) and she's like "Marin, you lack direction for your life" and I'm like, cool mom. Yeah. I can see that. What I can't see is how to get there from here.

March 2, 2019

This is what I want my life to look like, volume 2:

The walls of my room are covered in Polaroids of me and my friends. There are lots of mirrors in all kinds of shapes. hearts and moons and stars. There's a record player and a lot of vintage records by Billie Holiday and Lena Horne and Peggy Lee and Nina Simone. And Christmas lights! Everywhere! Lots of of pink and purple Christmas lights everywhere.

If I lived in this room, I'd have so many friends and be part of so many clubs. My best friend would have a collection of vintage cameras, and every place we go to that has a photo booth, we'd get photos taken. Every time I'd look at myself in one of those mirrors, I'd feel happy at what I see and never weird or sad. (Jesse hates taking pictures, so even when I actually do normal stuff with her there's no evidence. What even is a life supposed to be without evidence? That's not an actual question you need to answer Jesse, it's just a question)

Anyway, if I lived in this kind of room, my mom would probably be like, an art history professor at a liberal arts college. That's how come everything looks so cool, because I would know stuff about art. My mom and I would love to try new recipes together. We get each other new cookbooks for every special occasion, and right now we're working out way through a Moroccan one. Moroccan Mondays.

In actuality, there's a dust storm happening outside and my eyes sting.

March 9, 2019

Here's what I'm obsessed with lately.

Can. You. EVEN???

February 3, 2020

Omg I totally forgot this blog existed!!

I lost the password and instead of just resetting it I got in one of my super stubborn moods (Taurus moon lol) and just kept putting in guesses and jokes on me, it locked me out. Anyway, that's a boring story.

But my friend Ximena is really good at hacking and stuff, so she got me back in. Yeah you read that right - I have friends. Obviously a lot has happened since my last post. Ximena moved out here a couple months ago (X's family used to live here but they moved away a while ago) and she introduced me to Lora who I sorta-not-really already knew, and Jesse and I have been hanging out with them a ton. Jesse kind of more than me. Which is fine!!

Anyway I'm 15 now? If I lived somewhere normal I'd be psyched about almost being 16, because I'd get a car and have a Sweet Sixteen and eat a huge PINK cake, but I don't!

February 16, 2020

I read this fanfic the other night that was written in the second person so everything was like "you." "you're doing this" etc you know?

So... You go to a drive-in movie with Heartthrob Boy, and he spills soda on you by accident. And you take off your shirt ( you have a tank top on, don't worry) to clean it up, bit you're still all sticky and self-conscious about being sticky and HTB like... used his tongue to get it off??? AAHHHHH I'M DISGUSTING

but also I wonder if a boy will ever touch any part of me with his tongue

March 2, 2020

Hi I don't know if you heard but I have friends :)))

March 15, 2020

I think I'm so into painting my nails and doing my hair because those are things that always fit. I don't have to worry about places not carrying about a size 8, or places that carry XLs but when you read the measurements they're actually size 8s too and it's like jesus if that's an XL what am I

My "mom" was confused why I needed new pants because mine still look new, but I showed her the thigh holes and she was like "that's a weird place for a hole, how did that happen" and I realized that when your legs are a certain size, you just don't know about thigh rub and what it does to clothes. Pants could just last for years.

No matter what, I can paint my nails with a different color nail polish on every finger, and I can always do a braid crown. And I know I'm cute as hell, etc, so this is not a Marin Needs to Learn to Love Herself thing. It's just an UGH thing

April 17, 2020

So Rose does all these Source experiments on plants and flowers and stuff. Tbh, it's just one if those things I hardly even register anymore because it's just always there. She's explained to me a million times what Source is/does/means, but the way Rose explains things sometimes is just a LOT to take in and she refers to me as a "child of Source" but I kinda figure that's like "child of God" right? What else would that mean?

But anyway, it's really annoying because dried flowers are a part of my new aesthetic and I pinned a bunch of them up on my wall but I woke up this morning to a freaking jungle of very alive flowers. I freaked out. on Rose, and she Rose said she didn't do it and I was like WELL THEN WHO DID and she said that I did??

Which like. Obviously that doesn't make sense. I asked her what she meant and She just shook her head and said " It's happening. We should have known" which is some horror movie shit that she refused to elaborate on. I love to feel safe and normal!!

Or maybe it's not a horror movie at all. But maybe it's a superhero movie? Maybe there's some kind of origin story I don't know about yet, and all of this will be worth it once I figure out my powers. I wonder what my costume will look like. Lol.

April 23, 2020

Is it possible to die from longing? I know that sounds melodramatic, but I'm also kinda serious?? Because it seems like one of those things that could fester and get infected and kill you. It's like when you fall down and bang up your knee, and you need to put a band-aid on the scrape for a while, but THEN you need to air it out - but how do you know when you're supposed to do each one of those things? And if you do either one too much, your knee gets infected. What if I smother my heart with band-aids for too long and it gets infected? This isn't about anybody. I just keep having these dreams about someone I never expected to have dreams about and they're so intense that they keep leaking into my life and I wonder if I need to do something about them.

May 2, 2020

So Jesse's gotten really into metal music, and I tried to get her to play me something since, AS PREVIOUSLY ESTABLISHED, that's what we've literally ALWAYS DONE with music and each other, and she kinda looked at Ximena out of the corner of her eye and said like "I don't think it's really your thing" And it was the meanest thing anybody's ever said to me.

So later I looked up Zenion, the band she was talking about, and I listened to every single fucking song they've ever recorded turned up as loud as it could go with my own headphones that are better than hers anyway, and I loved it. And I didn't love it just because she said I wouldn't. I loved it because it was loud and weird and wild and when I listened to it it made me feel like it's not crazy when so feel stuff so hard it's like my heart's gonna vibrate out of my body. And I would have told Jesse all this and we could have shared it, but I guess she thinks just because I like HTB and glitter and stuff, I don't have the capacity for anything else.

She clearly doesn't know me at all. So much for any kind of whatever, why would she ever want to kiss someone she clearly sees as like a stupid baby.

May 7, 2020

The dreams are getting weirder and they're happening more. I'm getting scared to go to sleep. Not that the dreams are always scary (they almost never are, or not scary like in a typically scary horror movie way). I mean, I've only ever been me. I don't know what other peoples' dreams are like.

The other night in one I was jumping on a trampoline, which is something I've never done in real life. I told Rose about it when I woke up, and she said "do you even know how to jump on a trampoline?" and I said "Rose, it's not like riding a bike. You don't have to learn. You just jump." and then we got into this whole thing about how some things we just know, and jumping's one of them, and how that's so weird. Sometimes I really like talking to Rose about stuff.

May 19, 2020

So, it's prom season in the real world. If I lived somewhere normal, my prom dress would be pink with lots of tulle and silk flowers at the shoulders, and it would fit perfectly and trying in dresses would be fun and not anxiety-inducing.

But since there are only like 10 teenagers currently in 7MV, were not having a homecoming. Cool.

May 27, 2020

So, mom came to visit this weekend, and I asked her about her prom. She was Typical Cecelia at first, very "Prom is a waste of time and money, Marin. It's a night when lesser people play dress-up to engage with their aspirations of grandeur." And I was like eyeroll forever and just stopped talking. BUT THEN she actually talked to me like a human being. She was like, "I actually didn't go to my prom" and when I asked her why she said that she didn't have a date, and was very self-conscious about it. I almost passed out at her admitting that she's ever been anything less than perfect.

(gonna continue this in reblog)

[frostedfaves]

Haunt (3)

Masterlist

Pairing: civilian!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You want to move forward with Wanda, but something (or someone) is holding you back.

Warnings: angst, car crash, alcohol and blood mentions, severe injuries, a lil spooky stuff

A/N: I appreciate everyone using the link in the masterlist post for the taglist, because it’s much easier for me to keep track of everyone that way :) please tell me what you think here!

Previous part

-

“I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

It was a terrifying confession made simpler when she was the first to blurt out the words, and suddenly fear didn’t exist. It was just her lips on yours, her hands on your neck and waist and either her shampoo or perfume that was flooding your senses right now. Breathing seemed optional with her fingers inching their way under your hoodie and you thought that just maybe you’d get to kiss a beautiful woman for once without consequences. You should’ve known better than that.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

The bubble popped when you practically threw yourself on the opposite end on the couch, and all that time you spent evading your need for oxygen caught up with you. Fear was present in your mind again, as much as you despised it. But for the moment, none of that mattered more than the woman beside you.

“Is everything okay? Did I go too far?”

Is everything okay? If only she knew how heavy a question that was. Is anything okay when you’ve been haunted since you were eighteen by a person that used to be your everything, and has been isolating you since the moment she left your life? It isn’t, but that’s the worst possible thing to say on what seems to be your first date in years. So you say--

“No, you didn’t. That was all me.”

Because it’s true, it’s always been you. Sure, she’s in your ear every second of every day, but you react every time. And you probably will for the rest of your life, which is why you insist on Wanda promising not to grow attached to you. Nothing seems to be permanent with you anymore, and sadly, whatever you have with her will be included in that. If you weren’t certain of that before, the whispered chants on the walk home made it clearer than ever.

-

You made it through an entire week without worrying Wanda, and it helped you make an impressive amount of progress in whatever it was that you were currently building together. She invited you over for dinner a few times during the week, and when you weren’t eating together, you were joining her for walks with Alexei that turned into hour long talks on her porch. Something about spending so much time with a Sokovian teacher with a golden hour halo over her hair made it easy to fall fast, and you hoped you’d never land.

Your roommate, Mia, was making dinner today and inviting Pietro, and you felt it was only right to invite Wanda. In reality, you wanted to spend another night alone with her, but the logical part of you knew that you needed to see her twin brother (and your friend’s boyfriend) face-to-face at least once.

“Once dinner is over, Piet and I are heading back to his place,” Mia told you as you help her set the table, rolling her eyes when you simply nod. “I’m telling you this so you can invite Wanda to stay the night!”

“Mia, I’m not--”

“Why though? You’re both adults and it’s Friday night! Have some fun.”

“We haven’t even known each other a full week yet and we still haven’t figured out what we are to each other.”

“Use the time to talk about it, then!” She walks around the table to stand in front of you, placing both hands on either side of your face. “I’m saying this because I care about you. Don’t let your past ruin your future.”

Wanda and Pietro arrived before you could decide whether or not you’d call and ask her to bring an overnight bag, but the quick kiss she gave you at the door eased your mind a bit. It was easy to see through all the teasing that the twins cared for each other, and you couldn’t help but smile when you noticed Wanda trying to get a read on Mia in the same way that you were keeping your eye on Pietro. The pair was nearly out of the door by the time you loaded the dishwasher, and the words were out of your mouth before you could over analyze them.

“Do you want to stay the night?”

You walked in from the kitchen and watched her eyes widen as she faced you, forcing yourself not to think the worst immediately, and to stick with your decision. Part of you knows you want this, whatever it is, and seeing Mia and Pietro together only confirmed that.

“I bought some of that ice cream you like, and I have a TV in my room. I was thinking that we could eat some while we talk about what we both want from each other and then watch that cartoon you were telling me about.”

“Okay.”

She followed you into the kitchen and watched you scoop ice cream into bowls, thanking you with a gentle kiss as you gave her the first one and waiting for you to lead her to your bedroom. You turned on the television as the two of you sat side by side on your bed, needing to stare at the moving screensaver for a bit to calm your nerves.

“Is it completely insane to say that I want a real relationship with you after only knowing you for seven days?”

“No,” you assured her as you turned your head to meet her gaze. “Because I kind of want the same thing. I didn’t want to want that because you’re easily one of the best people to come into my life in a long time, and I’d hate to scare you off before I can even really enjoy time with you. But I just--”

“Why do you think you’ll scare me away?”

“Because I--I have a past that affects how I’m able to share myself emotionally in relationships, and I just think you deserve someone who doesn’t hesitate before they jump in with you.”

“I had someone who jumped in headfirst with me, and I thought it was the greatest thing to have someone that was so sure of me all the time, but it turned out to be the worst relationship I’d ever been in.” She shifted her bowl to one hand and placed the other on your knee. “In the process of healing from it, I learned that I was taking chances because of the confidence of my ex instead of actually believing in a situation myself. So I’m actually grateful to meet someone like you that takes time to think things through, because it makes me feel understood in a way.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you’ve thought about this, too?” you ask while grabbing her hand, and she laughs a bit.

“You haven’t left my mind since the moment you literally ran into me.” Her laugh increased in volume when you put down your bowl to cover your face as she squeezed your fingers. “No, don’t hide! That’s the only time a stranger bumping into me has ever made me happy.”

“Then I’m honored to be the first.”

“And hopefully the last,” she joked as you pulled away from your hand to meet her eyes again. “So I have a question. Did Pietro pass your test for Mia? Because she passed mine.”

“He did pass and I knew it!” you shouted as you poked an accusatory finger in her chest.

“You didn’t know!”

“I did, because I was literally doing the same thing.”

“I guess great minds think alike,” she teased as she lifted your hands to place a kiss on your knuckles.

-

Her hands were on your hips, digging into your side with an intensity that you’d never felt from her before, and you weren’t sure you liked it. Of course you knew by now that you were into girls, but the way she pulled you against her felt wrong in a way that you couldn’t figure out until her lips pressed against yours, and you tasted her last drink.

“Stop.” You pulled away until her arms fell by her side and you avoided her eyes. “I don’t want to do this, and I don’t think you do either.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” she argued as she reached for you again, and you slapped her hands away as you looked into her eyes.

“You’re drunk!”

“So? I want to kiss you even more when I’m sober.”

“Okay, let’s get you home.” You grabbed her arm and tightened your grip when she tried to pull away. “I’m not leaving here until you get in the car.”

“You’re such a fucking mom,” she grumbled as she reluctantly followed you to the old Dodge Durango you used for transportation. “I can’t believe I kissed your old ass.”

You simply closed the car door behind her with a sigh and used the time it took to walk around the car to gather your thoughts. Now that you had time to process it, she’d been hinting for a while that she had a crush on you, but you thought it was just another thing she was joking about. But she was a sister to you, someone who was there for you when your family wasn’t, and now you might lose her friendship too.

“What took you so long? Were you sick? Maybe you should let someone else drive so you’ll be free to kiss me before we go home. Or you could sleep at my house and we--”

“I didn’t drink because I knew you would,” you explained as you pulled away from the curb and started driving toward her house. “And I’d rather sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“Fine, I guess we can fuck there, too.”

“I’m not fucking you!” you snapped as you faced her at a stop sign. “I wanted to wait until you were sober to have a mature conversation about this, but I’m not into you in that--”

“What the fuck do you know about a mature conversation? Y/N, I don’t care that you don’t like me. The problem is that I don’t think you ever did!”

“What are you talking about?” you hesitantly ask, knowing you shouldn’t get into this now, but curiosity got the better of you. “You’ve been my best friend since I learned how to write my own name.”

“Was I? Or was I just some project you’ve been working on to put on your college applications?”

“You’ve helped me more than I helped you! Whatever, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“You never want to talk about anything, that’s your problem.”

“I’m not doing this with you,” you told her as you turned back to the road, and she groaned loudly.

“Of course you’re not. Why don’t I save both of us the trouble and just d--”

Her sentence was cut short when another truck slammed into you as you passed through the intersection, luckily hitting the door behind yours instead of you and unluckily sending you sideways toward a pole. The force of the crash caused the window to break, and you tried not to panic for her sake when you noticed the blood beginning to pour from the tiny gashes caused by shards of glass. Your heartbeat seemed to block out any other sound as it pounded loudly in your ears, and you rushed to take off your seatbelt and rip off your shirt to hand to her.

“I can’t hold it, Y/N. My arm is stuck,” she whimpered and you helped her guide her left arm to hold the shirt to the right side of her face.

“Just hold it there as long as you can, okay? I’m going to call for help.” You grabbed your phone from your pocket and cursed quietly when it wouldn’t turn on. “My battery’s dead. Where’s yours?”

“I don’t know,” she choked out as she began sobbing. “I think I dropped it at the party, or something...I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay, just breathe. Um…” You turned to see the other car not far from you, flinching slightly when you noticed the driver was passed out. “I’m going to see if that guy has a phone.”

“Wait, no! Y/N, don’t leave me! I don’t want to die alone!”

“You’re not going to die, but your injuries could get worse the longer we wait!”

“No, Y/N, please!”

Her sobs and calls of your name followed you as you got out of the car and made your way to the other car with slightly blurry vision, and you thanked whoever was listening that the window was down. You were just about to reach for his phone in the cupholder when he grabbed your wrist, causing you to scream and try to yank your hand away as he turned his head and opened his eyes.

“Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.”

You opened your eyes with a gasp, fighting to catch your breath as you sat up and stopping yourself from jumping out of bed when Wanda placed her hand on your back.

“Hey, it’s just me.”

“Sorry, I just...sorry,” you apologized breathlessly as you closed your eyes again and attempted to surrender to the gentle touch of slow circles she rubbed against your shirt.

“It’s okay, babe. It was just a dream,” she assured you and you almost laughed, because you really wish it was that simple.

-

Tags: @littlegasps @peggycarter-steverogers @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikruismybitch @cristin-rjd @slut-for-nat @honeyvenable @creepingwolfberry @stickystudentlightmug @choni-trimberly @thedragonzland @dylxn-lee @cordeliaswhore @ravvakin96 @leximills2004

[jalapeno-princess]

How Do I Get Over You?

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: It’s so fucking sad guys let me just tell you that

Word count: 6.5K

Summary: Hey guys! So I was driving the other day and “Driver’s License” by Olivia Rodrigo came on and at first, I didn’t understand the hype but then I kept listening to it and this imagine popped in to my mind and now I’m sad. I’m almost done with part 3 of my fuckboy series so please stay tuned and thank you all for your patience. By the way, one in a million is a fucking BOP I’m so proud of my boy :(((((((( Mark Tuan deserves the universe. Okay happy reading (or should I say have fun crying)

I got my driver's license last week Just like we always talked about 'Cause you were so excited for me To finally drive up to your house But today I drove through the suburbs Crying 'cause you weren't around

And you're probably with that blonde girl Who always made me doubt She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs 'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

And I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

“P stands for?”

“Park.”

“Good. R stands for—“

“Reverse.”

“Good. N stands for—“

“Babe. We’ve been over this about ten times in the last week. I know the controls already. I just want to drive.” 

You had gotten your permit a little over two weeks ago and you were more than excited to finally get on the road. You’ve been wanting to drive since the time you were old enough to understand what driving was. Watching your parents turn the steering wheel, press on the gas, accelerate and park—it just seemed like so much fun. 

All of your favorite characters in the television shows you enjoyed watching knew how to drive—or at least that’s what you assumed when you were still young. Once you hit your pre-teen years, you understood that they were just pretending to drive—that it was just “television magic” that gave the illusion of them driving a moving vehicle but that didn’t stop you from wanting to learn. Your boyfriend Mark had gotten his license when he was only sixteen years old. 

Technically, it was considered an intermediate license which meant there were a lot of rules he had to follow. He wasn’t allowed to drive without someone over twenty one years old, there could only be three passengers in the car at a time and he had a curfew of 10 o’clock p.m. As much as you begged your parents to allow you to start studying for your permit back when you were sixteen, they wanted you to focus on finishing high school before taking on such a big responsibility that came with being a licensed driver. 

That didn’t stop your boyfriend from taking you out against your parent’s will and teaching you everything he knew about driving. Mark was almost five years older than you. You first met the older boy when you were in the second grade and he was right about to move up to the seventh grade. He was your oldest brother’s best friend at the time; the two of them were like two peas in a pod. 

Where one went, the other one followed closely behind. If one joined a sport, so did the other. They were like magnets—always needed to be together. It was like that up until their sophomore year in high school. Isn’t wasn’t as though they had bad blood between them. Sometimes friends just grow distant. 

Mark joined the football team whereas your brother was more of a soccer kind of guy. Their schedules began to collide a lot and it was actually pretty sad. Everyone who knew of the two of them just assumed that they were going to be friends forever, but it was only natural for both Mark your brother to go their separate ways. 

Deep down, you’ve always harbored feelings for Mark. It was inevitable; you saw him almost every single day for the last six years. Although he could be a pain in the ass sometimes; not allowing you to join him and your brother as they would play video games, taking the last cookie from the cookie jar, making fun of your drawings in order to get under your skin—there was a point where you ended up hating him because you felt as though he had it out for you. But as the years went by and the two of you grew older, he became more kind-hearted and gentle around you. 

Whenever he’d come over, he’d ask you how school was going, what you were interested in, if you needed help on any of your assignments and he would even buy you some snacks before heading over to your house. It didn’t help that he became more and more handsome with age—driving you to the brink of insanity each and every time you’d have to see him. When he and your older brother nonverbally ended their friendship, you were crushed. 

Sure, you felt really bad watching the two of them over the years growing such a bond that you assumed would last forever only to decide that they were too busy to spend any time together. But you felt even worse knowing that Mark was no longer going to be in your life. When you turned fourteen and moved on to high school, you decided to join the track team because your parents claimed that they wanted you to have a good high school experience. 

The first week of practice was actually pretty fun—albeit a little bit strenuous and tiring, but it was enjoyable. Little did you know that following week, your coach would bring in two previous students to help assist him in bringing your team to success. If you thought Mark was extremely good looking already, you were in for quite the surprise seeing him for the first time in two years since the end of his friendship with your brother. 

Time was always so good to him; in fact, he looked much better now than he did when he was sixteen. Braces, bad haircut and the pitchy voice no longer existed. His voice was much deeper now, he was grazing six feet, his cheekbones were more prominent and his features were seemingly more sharper. He was just as excited to see you as you were to see him. 

Maybe you imagined it in your mind, but deep down, you couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of getting to spend time with Mark again. You didn’t think much about being around him again—he was an assistant coach. He was there solely to help you with training and you were sure he probably saw you as his childhood best friend’s silly younger sister. However, you were quick to pick up on how Mark seemed to give you most of his time and attention. 

He’d give your teammates excuses as to why he couldn’t help them or why he needed to coach you the most. At first, you assumed he was just trying to be nice because the two of you somewhat had a past together, but as the days went by and your conversations went beyond track and field—you were confident that his friendliness had nothing to do with the fact that you were well acquainted with one another. 

Your friendship with Mark only got more and more tight knit to the point where you found yourself hanging out with him outside of school. It didn’t take long for your friendship to develop in to something more. Something beautiful—something, indescribable. 

Seeing Mark again and spending majority of your days with him only brought back your feelings tenfold—especially because you were no longer a ten year old little girl anymore crushing on her brother’s best friend from a distance. You were old enough to understand what love was—or what you assumed was love and it didn’t take a genius to know that what you felt for Mark was more than just a small crush. 

Since he was so much older than you, you pushed back the thought of him reciprocating your same feelings. He was a college student. He was devastatingly handsome, intelligent, outgoing, athletic, hardworking and very kindhearted. There must have been so many girls at his campus who threw themselves at him—he was a literal Greek God. 

Guys like Mark were never single and although you didn’t consider yourself close enough to know what his exact type was, so you were confused and shocked yet over the moon when he stole a quick kiss from your lips and confessed his feelings for you while the two of you were out eating ice cream. You didn’t think there was anything wrong with the age difference—Mark was practically an older brother to you and you trusted him with your entire being. 

However, you decided to keep him a secret in the fear that some people wouldn’t be so accepting of your relationship. Dating Mark was a dream. For the last three years, he’s shown you nothing but so much love, affection, adoration and happiness. He taught you how to love yourself—he took his time learning every little thing about you. 

Mark Tuan was the actual love of your life and you didn’t care if you were still too young to know what love was. You’ve known it since you were six years old that the older boy was the person you wanted to give your entire being to. You wanted Mark for as long as you could possibly have him for. 

He was very good in showing you and telling you on a daily basis exactly how much you meant to him and how he’s never been so in love with someone the way he he was with you. It all felt too good to be true. To love him and be loved by him—God it was such a wonderful feeling. 

Before Mark, your life was so colorless—so dull. Waking up in the morning felt like a chore. You had to motivation to really do anything besides your responsibilities and you just assumed that it came with being a teenager. But when he stumbled in to your life again, it’s like something awakened inside of you. You’ve never felt more alive. 

He gave you a reason to roll out of bed. He gave you the motivation to want to go out and go on adventures. To enjoy life and it’s many wonders. He made you the happiest girl on earth and you were never going to take his presence and his position in your life for granted. 

“I know silly girl, and you will. I just want to make sure you know everything by heart. As much as I seem like an easy instructor, and how big of a pushover I am whenever it comes to you, I want you to be safe baby. The road is a dangerous place—“

“Yeah I know, I mean—you’re on it all the time—“

“Hey! I am an amazing driver. I’m a natural y/n. I was born to drive. Some people just have it in them and others—well others take a while to learn.” 

You had a feeling he was hinting towards you, so you leaned over to playfully shove him but his reflexes were much quicker than yours. He placed a sloppy kiss on your lips before pulling away; earning himself a soft groan. 

“Okay, press on the brake and then lift the lever to put it in drive—good. Just like that. Now slowly, press on the gas. Good job baby. Now—you can speed up a little bit faster—I said a little bit—y/n!” 

You failed to notice the speed bump until you and your boyfriend practically flew forward. Maybe driving wasn’t as fun as you assumed it would be and by the look of nervousness on his face, you could tell Mark was soon regretting that he offered to teach you in the first place. 

A small pout soon rose on your face; sure this was the first time you were actually driving the car and you weren’t meant to be a professional on your first lesson. But you still felt a wave of  disappointment since you couldn’t even do something so simple as to driving at a slow pace. How did your boyfriend make it seem like it was the easiest thing on earth to do?

Most of the time, he’d only use one hand to steer the wheel and he’d always have his knee propped up—making it seem effortless. He was right though; there were some things he was extremely talented with that you practically suck at and there were some activities such as ice skating and baking that Mark could never succeed no matter how hard he tried. 

You acted out of instinct; hitting the steering wheel in anger and abruptly putting the car in park. One of the traits you could care less about was your stubbornness. If something didn’t go your way, you were quick to grow angry and give up on whatever it was entirely. That’s just the kind of person you were and sometimes, you’d try to work on improving yourself because you hating lashing out on anyone for no reason. 

Especially your boyfriend. Luckily Mark was very understanding and patient whenever you grew frustrated with something and he was very good with calming you down and making you feel better. Which is why it came as no surprise to feel one of his hands graze against your thigh as the other gently wrapped around your neck. His thumb glided against your nape and he began to leave gentle kisses along your cheek. Only then did you realize you were tearing up and it made you feel so pathetic. 

“Baby.” 

You didn’t want to look at him; you were sure that if you were to see the look of remorse in his eyes that you would cry like a baby and that was the last thing either of you needed at the moment. You just wanted to give up and have him take you back home. It was pointless. 

Now you understood why your parents were so against teaching you how to drive. You weren’t even 18 yet. What did you know about adulting and everything that came with being an adult? Why were you trying so hard to rush your age? Why did you want to mature so quickly? 

There was so much you had yet to experience—driving could come later. However, you felt like in order to be on the same level as your boyfriend, you needed to know how to drive. It was always him coming to pick you up from school or your house and he was always the one dropping you off. 

Although he’s never complained about it once, nor has he asked you to pay for his gas or anything like that, you couldn’t help but feel like such a burden and you wanted to do this so that you could take care of him as much as he was with you. 

He’d come drive twenty minutes to your house in the middle of the night if you couldn’t fall asleep and you were well aware there was a big chance he was tired as hell. But he came to you every single time. Sure, he’d fall asleep not to long upon arrival—yet you’d feel so safe and warm just having him around and being wrapped in his embrace. 

Sometimes, tension would rise at your house; whether your parents would argue with each other, or scold you for something so minuscule—all you wanted to do was run to your boyfriend and find solace in him. Since Mark was in college though, you knew he had a lot on his plate and you didn’t want to add on to his stress by worrying him about problems you were old enough to handle on your own. He had to get irritated with you every now and then—he was only human. 

Having your girlfriend call you at the most randomest times to come pick her up or to console her as she cried had to be burdensome. Just like right now, he was probably annoyed that you only drove one foot and ended up slamming on the breaks in his car. You weren’t too sure how cars worked, but the way you were so rough with the controls probably wasn’t a good thing to do. 

“Hey, why are you crying?” 

You continued to sit there, forcing your attention on the dashboard and hoping that he would just drop it. However, you’ve known the older boy long enough to realize that he wasn’t going to stop prying at you until you told him what was wrong. He allowed you to let it all out—you weren’t sobbing, but a few tears fell from your cheeks as you began to heaven silently. 

Mark ran his fingers through your hair and tried to pull you towards him, but decided to let you be until you were ready to find comfort in him. If Mark was anything, it was considerate. You were confident that he was upset seeing you cry—especially because he must have known you were disappointed in yourself. Your boyfriend was very vocal about how much he despised hearing you degrade yourself and talk negative about your abilities because in his eyes, you were the most wonderful human being to walk this earth. 

Nobody was perfect; but to him, you came really close. After a couple of moments, your cries slowly dissipated and to your confusion, he got out of the passenger seat. Right as the question of where he was going fell from your lips, he opened the driver’s door and motioned for you to get up. You were about to get out of the car completely in attempts to head to the passenger side; maybe you weren’t ready to physically learn to drive just yet. 

Maybe he was going to teach you a little more from the driver’s manual and from his personal experience before allowing you back in the driver’s seat and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. He was already doing so much for you; allowing you to drive his car and putting not only his and your lives at risk, but the tip top shape of his truck and even his clean driving record since you weren’t under his insurance. 

However, before you could do anything, you were being pulled on top of his lap as you felt his mouth smash up against yours. It took you a while to process the entire situation going on in front of you—kissing Mark had to be your favorite past time. His lips were your favorite drug and you could wholeheartedly confess that you were addicted. 

You’d find any and every reason to kiss him. Even when you were in places that you should have refrained from any kind of skin ship with your boyfriend, you couldn’t go too long without feeling his soft lips meld perfectly with yours. Mark’s lips were one of your favorite features on him. Not only were the prettiest shade of pink, but they were plump and heart shaped. 

When you finally came to your senses, you deepened the kiss and allowed him to shove his tongue inside of your mouth. You could feel him literally take your breath away the longer his mouth was on yours but you weren’t complaining. You would rather spend the rest of the day kissing him and even a little more than to attempt driving again. To your dismay, he hesitantly pulled away—making it obvious that he was fine continuing what the two of you were doing, but the urge to tell you what was on his mind was a little more overbearing. 

“Mm—Mark—“

“If you were crying because you were upset with yourself over what just happened, then I need you to know that it’s okay baby. Please understand that it’s a learning process. I’m sorry if I seemed mad or if I raised my voice—I really didn’t mean to I just—I don’t know. I really don’t. Whether it’s because the thought of you in any kind of danger scares the shit out of me or because I don’t want you to grow up just yet—I don’t know what came over me and I’m sorry. But don’t you dare for a second beat yourself up about this okay? I’m so fucking sorry y/n. I’m trying to be a good teacher for you and I know you want to hurry up and get your license which I promise, I will make sure you do. Don’t be too hard on yourself okay? I know, I probably didn’t make things any easier with how I reacted a few minutes ago but driving can be terrifying. Every single time I’m on the road, it may not seem like it but I’m nervous out of my mind especially when you’re in the car with me. The thought of hurting you or being the reason why something bad happens to you drives me crazy. I’m so protective over you, now I can see why your parents are so against you driving. Ah, I’m bad at this.”

His words pulled tightly on your heartstrings like they never failed to do whenever he showed you or went in to explicit detail about how you meant the entire world to him. Mark wasn’t the kind of guy who act all big and intimidating—like he didn’t have feelings. Most of his friends tried to pretend as though they were manly and didn’t care about anyone but themselves. Your boyfriend on the other hand was the complete opposite. Mark was excited to show you off to each and every single person in his life or that the two of you would encounter. He didn’t care if it was considered “feminine” to have and show emotions. 

He’d cry so easily at sad movies, or ads about sick children and animals in shelters. He’d cry if life could get a little too much for him to handle and if anything, it made him so much more of a man than those who tried so hard to conceal their inner feelings. This wasn’t the first time he confessed something so heartfelt to you, it’s happened on multiple occasions and it just really solidified the love he held for you. 

Not once in your three years of dating did you ever question Mark’s feelings for you and you could only pray that you’ve shown him generously the exact same amount of infatuation that he’s never failed to give you. You repositioned your body so that you were face to face with him and wrapped your arms around his neck, placing a delicate kiss on his jaw and giving him a soft smile. 

God, what did you do to deserve someone so selfless, so caring, so gentle and kindhearted, someone who gave you the world on a silver platter and treated you as if you were the most perfect little flower? He gave you a pout, obviously upset with the idea of you being sad and you found yourself bringing your hands up to either side of his face and lifting his lips up in to a smile. 

“Don’t be sorry babe. If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I kept begging you to take me out to teach me and even if you were hesitant, which you have your reasons to, you never said no because you know how much this means to me and how eager I am to finally start driving. I—I know you’ll probably think I’m an idiot for thinking like this and you’ve never done anything or aid anything to make me feel like this, but I consider myself such a burden to you—don’t look at me like that. I’m so grateful you are the way you are and I’m truly so blessed to call you my boyfriend. I’m just saying that if it were anyone else, they’d probably grow frustrated having to drive so much for me and because of me. I’m sure you’ve spent at least $1000 on gas money from having to drop me off and pick me up. I know—you do it because you love me, because you want to see me and spend time with me and because you’d do anything for me—but I know I tend to reach out to you at all the inconvenient times. I want to be able to do something for you for once. You said so yourself, you can’t wait till I started driving so that I can drive up to your house whenever you want to see me. Thank you for trying, and thank you for being so patient with me. I want to make you proud Mark. I’m already so much younger than you. Your friends probably wonder why you’re stuck dating a child. I’m not old enough to drink or go out to bars and clubs. I can’t even buy nail polish remover or Benadryl on my own. Im selfish. My desire to hurry up and get on the road goes beyond being able to drive. I want to be a girlfriend you can proudly show off to everyone—“

“Do I not do that enough already? Did I say something or did something to make you feel like our age difference or the fact that you’re only seventeen and I’m twenty-three is a problem to me? Because it’s not babe. Sometimes I forget that you’re still so young because you act so mature and you have such a good head on your shoulders. If it wasn’t for your cute little baby face, I would assume you were around my age. I don’t give a shot about what anyone has to say or think about our relationship. The only people who’s opinions matter to me is yours and mine. No. You’re not a burden at all. Ever. So take that stupid thought out of your head. Yes, I can’t wait for you to finally get your license but it’s not for the reasons you think. If you ever want to run away from home, I don’t want you having to wait almost half an hour for me to come get you. Once you start working, I don’t want you to catch the bus or walk home if I or one of your family members are not able to pick you up. Your safety is my number one priority next to your happiness. We can still keep practicing if you want to baby, but don’t feel like you have to drive if you’re doing it for me. Do it for yourself. I love you more than you will ever be able to fathom okay? You’re it for me. You’re my person—my soulmate. The only person I see myself spending my entire life with. I hope you know that I’m going to be the one who teaches our kids how to drive one day. I don’t need them crashing or totaling the car because you failed to teach them right—hey! What? I’m just being honest baby you’re lucky you’re cute. But seriously though y/n, don’t you ever for even just a second doubt your place in my life and what you mean to me.”

This had to be the coldest winter yet in California. You were currently in your car and the heater was on high, but you were freezing. You didn’t know what led you to sneaking out of your house at two in the morning; you couldn’t find it in yourself to fall asleep. 

These last few months, you developed insomnia. No matter how hard you tried; taking sleeping pills, mentally counting sheep, staring at the ceiling in the hopes that your eyelids would close sooner or later, nothing seemed to work. After throwing on a jacket and some sweatpants, you tiptoed downstairs towards the living room and tried your very best to quietly close the door—not wanting to wake up your parents. 

There was so much animosity between you and them that you blamed heavily on yourself. You only ever talked to them if they approached you first and even then, it was nothing more than a few sentences. As soon as you got in to your car that they got as a congratulations present for getting your license a little over two weeks ago, you started to drive with no destination in mind. 

All you wanted to do was get as far away from reality as possible. You decided that you’d go wherever the road took you. Thankfully, since it was so early in the morning, there was hardly anyone on the road which meant you didn’t have to put too much effort in to driving. Your entire body felt numb—and it wasn’t because of the freezing weather. 

You were so deep in to your thoughts, not paying any mind to your surroundings that you failed to notice where you ended up heading to. This road was so familiar; you’ve been down it more than a hundred times in the past few years. It was imprinted on both your mind and your heart. 

Of course your subconscious would lead you here. It’s been a while since you’ve last took a trip down this street—you no longer had a reason to since that heartbreaking night a little over six months ago. That night had to be the worst in your entire eighteen years of your existence. All of a sudden, the painful memories of Mark leaving you alone in your backyard right after he ended your four year relationship as if it was the easiest thing to do came rushing back like a slap to the face. 

I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this anymore. 

He asked if he could come over and you didn’t think much of it. He spent most of his time over at your house only because the two of you had more privacy since it was just you and your parents whereas all three of his siblings and their families all lived at home. 

When he arrived, you were quick to pick up on the fact that he seemed tense; as if something was wrong. You didn’t think much of it, maybe he had a hard day at work or school. If only you knew then what you knew now, you would have approached the situation much more differently. 

As you tried to reach out for his hand, he abruptly yanked it away and that’s when red flags began to go off in your head. Did you do something wrong? Why was he visibly angry? What could have happened that made him so—so indignant? It’s as if something had possessed him; you’ve never seen him this distressed before in your many years of knowing him and it worried you. 

So many negative thoughts began piling up and your head began to hurt. He walked over to the swing set your parents set up for you and your siblings and took a seat. You were about to ask him why he was acting so agitated when he beat you to it. It’s been six months, but you can still physically feel the pain in your chest to this day. His words replayed every single day as if they were taunting you; they were a constant reminder that he was no longer in your life. 

That he was no longer your person—the love of your life. Everything he said to you, all the promises for the future was a lie. 

I’m breaking up with you. 

Your mind drew a blank; you couldn’t process the thought of no longer having him as your boyfriend. You remember asking why—you wanted to beg him, to tell him that you were willing to change whatever it was about yourself that he fell out of love with. You would have done anything to get him to stay. Everything hurt and you just wanted to collapse. It’s as if time stopped. 

He refused to look at you—his vision was set to the ground, kicking at the dirt. There were so many questions that you wanted to ask him, so many things you wanted to say but nothing came out other than why. 

When did he fall out of love with you? When did he realize you were no longer the person he saw himself spending forever with? Where did it all go wrong? Everything was just fine the day before. The two of you were cuddling up on his bed, watching some movies on Netflix.

He dropped you back to your house earlier that morning, kissed you passionately and told you that he loved you. What happened in the few hours that he was away at school that made him decide to do the unthinkable and break up with you? It was in that moment where all your insecurities about being too young, too innocent and inexperienced—too immature and not enough for him in so many aspects. 

Your worst nightmares came true; he finally came to the realization that he could get a woman his age; someone much more successful, so much prettier, funnier, kinder—he was in his mid-twenties and you were just a teenager in high school. You were holding him back from so much. It was finally catching up to him. He was a grown man; taking care of his younger girlfriend shouldn’t even have to be his responsibility.

I’m no longer happy in this relationship anymore. 

Once those words fell from his lips, you sank to your knees and began to cry. You knew it was pathetic, but with the very small amount of strength you had left, you crawled over to him and wrapped your arms around his legs. 

Please. Please don’t leave. 

You could try to beg him as much as you possibly could—you could cry and plead for him to change his mind. This man opened your eyes to so much. He made you so happy. He taught you how to love yourself so that you could love him to the best of your ability. 

Mark Tuan was the rightful owner of your heart. He was your best friend before he was your life partner. How were you supposed to live without him? When you pulled away to take a look at him, he was void of all facial expressions. Why was he taking this so well; he was breaking up with you, the person he claimed he couldn’t live without. 

He seemed fine—okay even. It was as if these last four years the two of you spent together—the many laughs, kisses, stolen glances, late night drives, all nighters making promises for the future, they no longer meant anything to him. Where was the Mark who adored you and loved you with his entire physical being? The Mark who drove over to your house at three in the morning just because he missed you. 

The same Mark who stayed on the phone with your mom for almost two hours learning how to make you your favorite dessert to surprise you for your anniversary? The same Mark that would put on and wear face masks with you—dance to the most eccentric songs. 

Where was the Mark who claimed that you were the one who set the universe in to the sky and who was this monster that practically ripped your heart from out of your chest and stepped on it repeatedly? You didn’t know who this stranger was standing in front of you. 

It’s for the best. 

The tears were hot on your cheeks; images of the first time you went over to his house as his girlfriend and not his best friend’s little sister. He brought you outside to the sidewalk and kissed you sweetly—bringing some of your hair behind your ear and complimenting you on how beautiful you looked. It felt like years ago and now that he wasn’t in your life anymore, it was hard to believe that even happened. 

All your memories with Mark felt like a fever dream. Did your relationship ever even happen? Was Mark really ever in your life? Was he ever really yours? You wished you pried at him more—you just needed closure. 

These days, you were so bitter, so depressed and unhappy. When you got your license, you honestly couldn’t even care less. A part of you didn’t even want to take the test. It would only remind you of Mark and what was no longer. You had no motivation to continue to learn how to drive at all. Your whole reason to get your license no longer existed. 

Stupid, stupid girl. Why did you give yourself completely to someone else? Why did you trust someone with your heart? Your fragile, delicate heart. But it was Mark. You wouldn’t have expected him to do something like that. You haven’t heard from him since he left you not too long after telling you that he was done. You cut him off completely—deleted his number and blocked him on all of your social media.

A part of you, no matter how much you tried to push the thought of it at the back of your mind—you believed that there was a chance he just so happened to find someone else in college. Someone who could provide for him in ways that you couldn’t. Mark could have claimed that he loved you and that there was nobody else for him, but only he knew what was best for him and sometimes the person we live isn’t the person we need. You sat outside of his house for what felt like hours. 

You couldn’t leave. It wasn’t as if you expected anything to happen. He wasn’t going to come out running to you with open arms, telling you that he made a mistake and that he misses you so much. No. That wasn’t going to happen. Your sobs echoed throughout the car—surely he was moved on already. For all you knew, he probably didn’t even live there anymore. The thought of not meaning as much to him as he did with you plagued you every single day. How could he be so unphased? Did you really mean that little or even nothing to him? 

After everything you’ve been through together, how was he not hurting? How did the break up not affect him at all? In attempts to take your mind off of him, you turned on the radio—but ultimately ended up regretting that you did so. 

Your song—your song with Mark—began to blast through the speakers. It was already at the chorus, but that was the part Mark claimed reminded him of your relationship. Life was never on your side, what did you ever do to deserve so much misery? Why was your life slowly falling apart at the seams? It was so unfair. 

After allowing yourself some time to stop crying completely, you shut off the radio and drove away—not being able to stay much longer. Before you actually drove off though, you began to type in a phone number, one you knew by heart. You knew it was wrong, but you didn’t even care. Whether or not you got a response, it didn’t matter. He needed to know what the breakup was doing to you.

You: Hey. Not that you care, but I finally got my driver’s license. I just thought I’d let you know. 2:34 A.M.

You: Oh by the way 2:35 A.M.

You: I still fucking love you. 2:45 A.M.

Read at 2:46 A.M.

[lesbianrobin]

hey guys it's me again back on my bullshit <3 wanna hear my theory about how tommy created king steve? warning it’s like 2800 words long okay let's go!

So, at first glance in S1, the Steve and Tommy dynamic seems somewhat obvious: King Steve and his loyal sidekick. This post is me arguing that the only reason we really have this perception is because Steve is the more attractive of the pair (no hate to Chester Rushing, he’s very cute, but. Joe Keery) and because Tommy himself encouraged it. Tommy was actually the more “dominant” partner in the duo. I believe that it was Tommy who encouraged Steve to lean into the “King Steve” persona and who encouraged belief in this persona among their classmates, all for his own benefit.

Before we can really get into it, I have to establish something about Steve’s character, specifically that he bases his self-worth and self-image almost entirely on what others say and think about him. I’m basing this assumption off of a few key moments in the series, but I don’t want this to be insanely long so I’ll try to focus on season two where this trait is most evident.

At the Halloween party, Nancy tells Steve that they killed Barb and that their “love” is bullshit, and then later outside of the gym she insists that he isn’t being fair or reasonable in his anger with her. The next day Steve shows up to her house with roses, rehearsing an apology (”I’m sorry... what am I sorry for?) even though he doesn’t feel that he’s done anything wrong. That’s important: apologizing even though he doesn’t actually believe or understand his feelings and actions to be wrong. He’s trusting Nancy’s perception that he’s been unreasonable above his own hurt feelings and his own perception that he’s done nothing he needs to apologize for. Then, at the end of the season, he tells Nancy that he may have been a shitty boyfriend, but he’s a pretty damn good babysitter. 

Sometime between going to the Wheelers’ house with flowers to apologize and talking to Nancy at the Byers’, Steve did a pretty serious 180 from “What the hell am I sorry for, what did I even do wrong” to “I was a shitty boyfriend and you should go be with Jonathan.” The last time he interacted with Nancy was prior to the flower incident, so what happened to cause this shift in perspective? I’d like to suggest... that nothing happened! 

See, Steve is on a pretty linear emotional path in S2 after the Halloween party. At first, he’s so upset that he can’t even look at Nancy, asking Jonathan to take her home. The next day he avoids her until she confronts him, at which point he’s rather confident in his own feelings that Nancy has hurt him and doesn’t love him like she should. As time goes on, though, he loses confidence in his feelings. He buys her flowers to apologize. He isn’t remotely angry with Nancy or Jonathan once they show up together and it’s pretty clear that something’s going on between them. Finally, he calls himself a shitty boyfriend. I think that the more time passes, the less Steve believes in himself, and the more he tends to default to believing others despite his own feelings. As the anger fades, he questions himself, and since he loves and trusts Nancy, he’s inclined to believe her! Since she doesn’t love him, he must have done something wrong. Because Nancy doesn’t love him, because she wants Jonathan, because their relationship was “bullshit,” he now believes he must have been a shitty boyfriend.

Sidenote, in S3 he says a lot of shit about how he’s a loser with no future, and the way he says it indicates (to me) that it’s something he hears quite often, likely from his father. Even though it’s pretty normal to be working minimum wage the summer after you graduate high school and not have things figured out yet, even though he’s literally helped save his friends’ lives, perhaps even helped save the whole town, Steve has internalized the idea that he’s a total failure at the ripe old age of 18 (19?) and I can’t help but think that it’s because his father has told him. So. Also in S3, he says his hair is his greatest feature, and apparently people literally call him Steve “the Hair” Harrington so like, maybe he just knows he has really good hair, but he ALSO might be responding to the nickname by saying like, “Oh, okay, the hair is Objectively my best feature, okay.” Just a little bit of speculation!

I know this is a lot of my own personal opinions and speculation, but if you can get behind it, let’s keep going! If Steve is someone whose every belief about himself is a direct response to the words and feelings of those around him, if he places the opinions of others above his own feelings, it would logically follow that he might be easily emotionally manipulated.

So, let’s apply this lens to his friendship with Tommy!

Let’s run down the list. Steve cleans up after Tommy, making excuses for his shitty behavior, even wordlessly giving Carol his own food at lunch after Tommy ruined hers. He allows Tommy and Carol to have sex in his mom’s bed, and as indicated by their familiarity with the bedroom and knowledge of where the spare sheets are, this is a regular occurrence. He’s also always seen driving the two of them around. 

Neither Tommy nor Carol is ever really seen doing anything kind for Steve. They tease his girlfriend, then later use his heartbreak as an excuse to graffiti some shit and make cruel jokes about Nancy and Jonathan. That’s just not the behavior of a couple hangers-on to the most popular kid in school! Neither of them ever even pretend to give a shit about Steve. It seems that Tommy and Carol were very comfortable using Steve for his big empty house and his nice car and his popularity at school because they’d been using him for years at that point, and they thought there was no way he’d ever ditch them.

I think it’s generally accepted among fans that Steve and Tommy have been close friends for years. Tommy’s familiar with Steve’s father’s infidelity, and is comfortable enough to joke and laugh about it with Steve. The two of them just... operate like people who’ve existed around each other for a long time. So, if we accept that Steve and Tommy have been friends for awhile, we can then accept three things: the two of them know each other very well, Tommy is used to having fun at Steve’s expense, and Steve is used to allowing it.

When Steve does finally stand up to Tommy and Carol, Tommy turns on him immediately. It’s an incredibly fast turn. He shoves Steve up against his car, physically threatens him, and proceeds to taunt him angrily even as he’s driving away. Specifically he yells, “That’s it, run away Stevie boy, run away! Just like you always do,” and continues to shout variations on this phrase even after Steve’s driven far enough that Tommy’s only yelling to himself. The fact that Tommy keeps shouting after Steve can’t hear him indicates that he is genuinely very upset by Steve’s standing up against him and Carol. His fury, however, as indicated by the speed with which he turned on Steve, seems to be less like that of one who feels betrayed by a friend and more like one angry at some perceived loss or threat. 

Now, let me just state the obvious: that was a really weird thing for Tommy to be yelling!

There’s no real precedent at this point (or any time) in the show for Steve “running away,” unless you count him running from the cops, which... Tommy also did, and which also happened, like, ten minutes ago, which I don’t think would really qualify for the wording “like you always do.” Tommy also suddenly calls him “Stevie boy,” which (correct me if I’m wrong) nobody has called Steve thus far. Maybe he’s just trying to mock and belittle Steve in any way he can think of, but it’s just... weirdly specific. The whole thing is a bit of a non-sequitur.

But! Remember how we established that Steve and Tommy, by virtue of having been friends for a significant period of time, know each other pretty well? Remember how Tommy is knowledgeable about Steve’s father’s infidelity, so familiar that he’s comfortable joking about it? Keep that in mind.

This phrase that Tommy shouts at Steve only makes sense in the context of some offscreen information that we the viewer are not privy to, but which Tommy and Steve are. What might that information be? Nothing in the show indicates that Steve has a history of picking fights prior to the incident with Jonathan. He’s a fairly respectable suburban kid, what is Tommy accusing him of running from? It’s my opinion that the only logical answer is that Tommy’s referencing a specific event with Steve’s “asshole” father, or a specific phrase that Steve has perhaps often heard from his father. I’m gonna ask you to sit on this assumption for a minute, and I’ll come back and support it soon.

Okay, so that’s S1 out of the way. At this point, a few things are clear: Steve has issues with his dad. Tommy knows about those issues. Steve allowed himself to be used by Tommy and Carol for some indeterminate yet significant amount of time before finally snapping and dumping them completely, something which infuriates Tommy.

Tommy is also in S2! And... all he does is tell Steve that Nancy and Jonathan are skipping school together. He never actually interacts with Nancy or Jonathan; he shows up in S2 entirely to mock Steve, to use his deepest fears and insecurities against him. 

First thing: in the S2 shower scene after basketball practice, Tommy makes it a point to shove Jonathan and Nancy’s relationship in Steve’s face. Billy doesn’t know Steve, so he attacks his basketball skills and his keg stand record, but Tommy? Tommy knows about Steve’s dad cheating on his mom, he was there for the S1 fistfight, he knows how monumental infidelity is to Steve, especially in the case of Nancy and Jonathan, and so that is what he chooses to torment Steve with, and it clearly strikes a nerve. 

Now’s where I circle back to my assertion that Tommy was referencing/quoting Steve’s father while yelling at him back in S1. S2 makes it clear that Tommy  knows Steve’s biggest insecurities, and he intentionally exploits them for his own purposes. This, combined with the way Tommy demonstrates intimate knowledge of Steve’s family situation and the fact that his words just don’t quite make sense in context, the fact that “Stevie boy” sounds like something a father may call his young son, makes me believe that at some point, Steve told Tommy about something his dad said that hurt him, and Tommy remembered that to use against him later. 

This paragraph is just speculation on what Tommy might be referring to, so skip if you want, it’s entirely my own opinion. We know that Steve’s parents sleep in separate bedrooms and his father can’t be trusted not to cheat, and thus we might assume that they argue a lot. Maybe his parents get into lots of arguments, and whenever Steve chooses to remove himself from the situation, he’s accused of running away. Maybe Steve runs off whenever he gets in trouble with his father. There’s a lot of possibilities, but either way, “run away, Stevie boy, run away just like you always do” just... sounds too personal and specific to be something random and meaningless that Tommy came up with on the spot.

Now, in S2, Tommy also appears to have latched onto Billy rather quickly after Billy’s arrival in town. Coincidentally, Billy is kind of obsessed with Steve and taking him down, despite the fact that Steve never sought him out or challenged him in any way. Steve has been minding his own business! When they later end up in a fistfight, Billy says that he’s “been dying to meet this King Steve” that people have been telling him about, and I can’t help but think... who would make it their priority to talk to Billy about Steve Harrington? Like, new guy from California moves to my small Indiana town, I don’t want to tell him about some popular guy at school who’s gotten kinda lame and quiet lately, I want to ask him about himself, or tell him what we do for fun around here, right? So who might be incentivized to talk Steve up to a guy who’s clearly itching for a fight, a guy dying to prove that he’s top dog? Who did we see hanging out with Billy a couple of times?

Did you say Tommy? Because it’s Tommy! It certainly seems to me as though Tommy saw an opportunity in Billy. The opportunity to befriend someone with a certain social power (much like with Steve), but also the opportunity to torment or get back at Steve in some way. I think that Tommy intentionally inflated the character of “King Steve” to Billy in the hopes that Billy would pick a fight with Steve and Steve would get his ass kicked without Tommy having to get his hands dirty.

Which makes me wonder... what if Tommy played up that King Steve image to people besides Billy? Other kids at Hawkins High... or perhaps Steve himself. Remember how Steve internalizes things? Believes that he must be whatever others see in him? Yeah.

Let’s say you’re an asshole teenage boy who wants it all. You want to be popular. You want to have a spot to hang out with your girlfriend with no parents around. You want to feel strong and powerful. You meet a kid who could give you all of that, and all he wants in return is friendship. He doesn’t even seem to care if that friendship is genuine or not! All you have to do is hang around and make him feel like a cool kid. Convince him to throw a small party, you and your girlfriend get free reign of his nice big house. Make sure he knows that he’s got Prom King potential, that he’s the top dog, and you get to be one of the popular guys, too. It’s a pretty sweet deal if you can recognize the opportunity for what it is.

One last thing: Actual Steve is nothing like he seems around Tommy and Carol in the start of S1. Making friends with Dustin and coming up with a goofy handshake, singing to cheer Robin up in S3, singing into the bat to try and cheer Nancy up in S1, holding her hand during their first time, unabashedly telling her she’s beautiful and that he missed her even if only an hour had passed... Steve is a very emotional, dorky guy, and we never really got to see that side of him when he was around Tommy. I just find that interesting in light of the fact that Steve and Tommy seem to be otherwise rather close. Steve was clearly playing a part to some degree while around them, and in S3 he explicitly says that he behaved the way he did in high school because he was concerned about what others would think of him, about losing his popularity. Even prior to their argument, Steve was wary around Tommy, concerned about losing his friendship despite the fact that Tommy was a pretty objectively shitty friend.

So, here’s what we know. Tommy knows a lot about Steve, including his private family issues, and he isn’t above using that knowledge to hurt or manipulate Steve. In fact, he seems to be really good at it. Tommy benefitted from Steve’s popularity, from him throwing parties and living up to the “King Steve” image. Steve followed Tommy’s lead in their friendship, cleaned up after him, made excuses for him, and let him get away with just about anything. He masked aspects of his personality that didn’t fit the image that he and Tommy aimed for. He was desperate to retain Tommy’s friendship and afraid of letting the mask fall. Tommy was furious when Steve rejected him, taunted Steve with deeply personal jabs, and a year later he latched onto the new “top dog” in town with record speed. Steve is a completely different person when he’s around Tommy versus when he’s around Nancy, Robin, and the kids. Most importantly, we know that Steve has a tendency to construct himself in the image provided by others. 

Taking all of this into account, I think that Tommy Hagan met sad, rich, handsome little Steve Harrington, saw just how lonely and desperate he was to feel a sense of belonging, and used that to nudge Steve into striving to be the person that Tommy wanted him to be: King Steve. 

[wordsablaze]

6. a storm raging on the horizon

your beauty hides the pain Lost on the mountain, Jaskier accidentally angers a mage who decides to curse Yennefer with his company and for once, it might actually be a blessing in disguise…

A/N: sorry in advance for the mixed signals in this one :p @random-nerd-3​ @surreal-static @10moonymhrivertam x

previous chapter

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It’s a temple.

Of course it’s a temple.

Jaskier has been dead on his feet for a while by the time they get there but Yennefer’s makes a swift beeline to the small fountain in the centre that, unless he’s gone entirely mad, seems to be glowing, not that he has the strength to question it.

“I won’t be long, bard,” Yennefer tells him.

“If only you would be,” he mutters, half-heartedly smirking at her before she kneels by the fountain, doing who knows what.

He’s too tired to care about what she’s planning so he lets himself settle on the floor once more, leaning his head on his lute as he lets his eyes slip shut. He’s not sure if seriously debating his life choices counts as resting but that’s all he manages before the familiar tug of yennefer, get closer to yennefer, yennefer, you’re too far away from yennefer, yennefer returns to his bones.

Yennefer curses before he can even think about moving and the warmth of somebody sitting next to him fills his mind. “Jaskier?”

Humming, he opens his eyes to see Yennefer’s perfectly raised perfect eyebrow. He chuckles despite everything. “It can be considered impolite to stare, my lady.”

His stomach rumbles before she can reply and he winces, offering her a sheepish grin. She doesn’t seem amused though, and her expression morphs into confusion. “They didn’t bring you up any food yesterday, did they?”

“They were too busy trying to kill me,” Jaskier confirms.

“I thought-” Yennefer cuts herself off with a curse in a language he doesn’t recognise.

Well, at least that explains why she’d assumed he’d be perfectly fine with walking for miles. He can’t exactly blame her for misinformation, can he? Well, he could but he likes to think he’s just a little above that kind of behaviour and- ah who is he kidding, he just doesn’t want to hold a grudge against the very sexy but insane witch he’s literally stuck with until further notice.

“You could have told me!” Yennefer grumbles as if this is somehow his fault.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Yes, darling, I’m sure that would have gone well, especially after you and your chaos nearly stole my voice. You know, the usual method of seduction is taking someone’s breath away, not their entire livelihood.”

Yennefer looks annoyed for a moment, elbowing him sharply, but then she frowns again. “You could still play the lute.”

“Yes, but nobody pays for a tune without words and so a bard isn’t really a bard if he can’t sing. Or flirt. Both of which require a voice.”

He hadn’t meant to say anything particularly thought-provoking but Yennefer is silent long enough for him to think he’s said something that at least doesn’t just irritate her, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how much he likes that realisation. He does not want to go into why he likes it but he’s content in acknowledging it’s nice to exchange more than barbed words here and there.

The sun rises before either of them do.

“Oh, how beautiful,” Jaskier breathes instinctively.

Yennefer scoffs at first but then follows his gaze to the horizon just past the fountain that seems to be glowing even more than it was before and maybe Jaskier is just imagining it but he thinks he hears her gasp. And he wouldn't blame her for the dawn is truly a thing of beauty that he firmly believes anyone can appreciate.

“I was hoping this place could break the spell,” Yennefer admits eventually.

Jaskier turns to her, finally taking his eyes off the sunrise. “I take it the spell is more complicated than that?”

With a small chuckle, Yennefer nods. “There’s not a lot I can do when I don’t know why it was cast in the first place.”

Guilt blooms in Jaskier’s chest as if trying to establish its own rotten garden. “I’m sorry. Really, I know the last thing you’d want is to be stuck with me but believe me when I tell you I simply cannot imagine her reasoning either.”

Yennefer hums, then elbows him again. “You could be worse, bard.”

It takes a moment for her words to register but as soon as they do, Jaskier half-turns and grins at her. “What was that, darling? First the apologies and now a compliment? Maybe I’ll have to thank that other witch!”

“I take it back,” Yennefer mutters darkly, standing up and brushing dirt off her dress, “and I’m afraid we’ll have to walk back again until I can portal us anywhere else.”

Jaskier sighs, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet. It can’t be that bad, he tells himself, and he’s definitely been on more tiring adventures with Geralt so he can totally do this, he can definitely do this without embarrassing himself in front of Yennefer.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jaskier says, slinging his lute over his shoulders. Yennefer follows the movement with a clearly sceptical hum but says nothing, starting to walk at a thankfully reasonable pace.

He manages about a minute of silence before clearing his throat. “So, what was in the box?” he asks.

Yennefer sighs loudly. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“And do you often sacrifice things to temples? Well, I suppose that’d be more of an offering actually so, uhm, do you often leave offerings of mysterious payments at temples or…?”

Another sigh, but Yennefer slows enough for them to Jaskier to only be half a step behind her. “Do you always ask this many questions? It’s enough to drive anyone mad, bard.”

And it has, when he thinks about it. Not just almost his entire family and various patrons who it turns out weren’t actually interested in his bardic talents but also his very best friend in the whole world. Maybe he should stop asking so many questions about witchers and witches and write more about the sunrise or nobles who won’t mind hearing his ballads for at least long enough for him to stock up on coin.

“How is it that even your thinking is irritatingly loud?” Yennefer asks, interrupting said thinking.

He huffs. “Well it’s hardly my fault you make a habit of spying into other people’s heads. What, is yours inadequately furnished despite all that power you’re meant to have?”

“I do have power,” Yennefer snaps, turning to him with ire in her eyes, “but you wouldn’t know the first thing about being powerful even if you were anything more than just another bard.”

Jaskier scowls at her. “I’m not the one who resorted to chasing dragons with my entitled fake boyfriend because I wanted to be more than just another witch.”

For a second, he thinks she’s going to kill him. And then the second passes and she just grits her teeth before continuing to walk, leaving him to groan and scramble to catch up so he doesn’t feel like he’s being ripped apart again. Gods is he getting tired of following around people who would rather he didn’t exist.

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idk if anyone’s still reading but if you are, sorry it’s not v exciting, juggling wips is not exactly my forte. anyway, hope you’re having a good december <3

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thanks for reading! | masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #374

“doctor, doctor, won’t you please prescribe me something?  /  a day in the life of someone else...”

Does someone have a crush on you but you don’t feel the same way? No. Who do you feel most beautiful around? No one. What’s one makeup item you cannot live without? I could live without any makeup. What’s the most expensive thing you own? My snake, I think. Or my laptop, idr. Are you more of a book person or a TV person? Book. Relationship status? Single. What color are most of your clothes? Black. Did you french kiss before you were 16? No, I was 16. Last song you listened to? "The Heretic Anthem" by Slipknot. Would you ever go back to any of your past relationships? Yes. What’s your favorite thing about life? That's a big question. I guess seeing acts of mass love and kindness, reminders that we're all in this together through all hardships. Who pays for the first date? Whoever asked the other person out, imo. Who has always been there for you? My mom. Have you ever written on a wall? No, at least not to my memory. Do you play any computer games, if so, what ones? I think anyone who reads these by now knows, haha. I don't much play anything else. I prefer console games. What would you name a baby boy if you had one? Probably Damien or Victor. What would you name a baby girl if you had one? Alessandra, no questions asked. What lyric means the most to you? I mean there's tons, but the first one that came to mind is "for such a little thing, you sure are in your own way" from "Get Up" by Mother Mother. Like in the big picture, we humans are so so so minuscule, but with brains that are too complicated for our own good. It's my own head that creates so many obstacles for me. Who is the smartest person you know? Probably my friend Girt. Have your parents ever been to jail? No. Do you share a bed with anyone? My cat, haha. Does it flatter you when guys open doors for you? It's flattering if anyone does, not just guys. Do you enjoy taking naps? Yeah. That's like part of my daily routine. If your friend asked you to hold their drugs, would you? Nope. Is there anyone you try to be a good influence for? My nieces and nephew, but I don't feel like I am. I'm a poor example of an adult. Do you own a pair of fishnets? No, but I have a pair of fingerless fishnet gloves. Which do you prefer: french toast, bagels, pancakes, waffles, bacon or cereal? All are great, but french toast. Yes or no: eyebrow piercings? I'd actually have one if I didn't have glasses. I think I'd look weird with one as I look now. When I say "The Beatles," what is the first song that comes to mind? "Hey, Jude." In your opinion, what is the very worst type of weather? Extremely hot and humid. You can only listen to one band for the rest of your life, who do you pick? Ozzy Osbourne, of course. Can you snap with both of your hands? Yeah, but it's harder with my left. What is something that you had to learn the hard way? For some people, promises don't mean shit. If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you paint it? Maybe like a light peach. When was the last time you got butterflies? I think not since Sara told me I look really pretty in eyeliner. ;_; <3 When was the last time you felt like your heart was actually breaking? There was this one time I was listening to "The Ghost of You" by MCR a while after finding out about Jason's mom's death and I just like... broke. When’s the last time you were in a line? When I was getting my second COVID shot. Do you trust the media? HA! Fuck no. If you could kill off one species of animal, which would it be? At first I was appalled by this question, but like... do wasps serve a purpose? Of all fauna, they annoy me the most. I mean bees are already endangered enough, and they prey on them. They don't pollinate, so like... why are you here. I may be mistaken and they have a valuable role, in which case I take all this back. Who’d you last say I love you to? My mom. What’s the most overpaid job in your opinion? I have on idea. Most jobs are underpaid. What’s the last thing you wrote down? I was doing some paperwork at the TMS office on my first day there. When’s the last time you heard a gunshot? I don’t know. What are you looking forward to? Now that my tattoo (which looks fucking stunning, by the way) is out of the way, I can focus on other things. I'm particularly looking forward to hopefully seeing the results of TMS manifest (which should take 3-4 weeks). It sounds horrible, but I'm also keenly awaiting this dog we're stuck with to go somewhere... The person who gave her to my sister to give my mom won't take the dog back, and we can't find another option that doesn't risk her being euthanized, which we absolutely do not want. We just don't know what to do, but she's driving Mom and me INSANE. Do you listen to online radio stations? No. Have you ever done something sexual that you regret? No. Have you ever said anything to the last person you kissed that you regret? Multiple things. Have you ever ate so much you puked? Ugh, no. That sounds awful. Do you care about what others think of your physical appearance? Very much, sadly. Would you rather eat cookies or brownies? I gotta say brownies. Which YouTuber have you learned the most from? I mean, this depends on the subject. From Mark, I've learned most about life and how (I think) to be a good person, but there's a lot of pet channels I watch that have taught me loads about proper husbandry. This answer just depends on what knowledge you're talkin' about. Who would you want to be the flower girl at your wedding? Probably a niece. Do you want to be married within the next ten years? It'd be nice. Do you feel like your life is too fast-paced, or do you wish it were busier? Ugh, I wish it was busier. My days are a COMPLETE, routine drag. What are some hobbies which you want to pick up? I want to just be more artsy. I wanna draw and write more, and I'd love love love to be in healthy enough shape to handle going on walks with my camera. There are sometimes I miss editing videos, too. I'm unsure about completely new hobbies. Does anyone encourage you to go after your dreams? My family and a few friends. Oh, and definitely my psychiatrist. What group are you most active in on Facebook? None, really. I mostly just observe. Are you ashamed of anything? A number of things. Primarily not having a job at my age or even being in school. What were your favorite Disney rides as a kid? I loved Splash Mountain, I think it was called. What were your favorite rides at Cedar Point? Never been. What are some places you want to visit that you’ve never been? South Africa, Alaska, Canada, Yellowstone National Park, Bahamas, Venice, Rome... What are some places that you’ve been that you’d like to go to again? Disney World, Chicago, and this one super clear lake I swam in once a few hours away that I don't recall the name of. Have you ever owned a succulent? No. While they're pretty, I've never been much of a plant person. Do you support small businesses? I REALLY want to start doing that more when I have the option to buy my own stuff/have my own income. As someone who wants to be a freelance photographer, I get it. Starting an independent business is hard as hell. If a brand were to sponsor you, which brand(s) would you prefer? Uhhh I dunno. Have you read the entire Bible? No. Do you make bucket lists for each season? No. That does sound kinda fun, though. How old were you when you first dyed your hair? I have no idea. Do you dye your hair regularly? No. :/ I desperately want to, though. It's just not something we can afford to spare cash on. What is the most comfortable type of pants, in your opinion? Pajama pants? haha Do you think you could ever be famous? No. I'm way too boring and don't want to be anyway. What are some jobs you’ve had in the past? Sales associate, cashier, and deli worker. None lasted long whatsoever. What are some jobs you want to or would like to have? List five. FIVE? I don't know. I just know I want to be a photographer. Well, being an artist or poet would be very cool. And a reptile breeder, maybe tarantulas, too, but that makes me kinda nervous with JUST how many babies they have. What are some jobs you have considered? In rough order from youth to now: paleontologist, vet, movie director, game designer, author/poet, artist, music video editor, wildlife biologist, photographer... Maybe there's more that just aren't coming to me. Are you thankful for social media, or do you wish it didn’t exist? Depends on the day for me, but I'm generally thankful for it so I can keep up with the lives of people who are important to me. It's just that it's a breeding ground for self-doubt and rampant comparisons that can easily depress me when I see some people are "further ahead" and more "established" than me. What are some of the best medications you’ve ever had? The combined efforts of Latuda and Lamictal saved my life. What was a video you watched over and over as a kid? There were lots of movies, like The Lion King, a certain Barney one when I was very young, and I watched Finding Nemo like crazy. Do you know a lot of people who were loving, and then turned cold? Jason????????????????? Is that you??????????????????????????????????????????? Do you own anything plaid? Ha, what a coincidence, I'm wearing my red plaid pj pants. Are you good at remembering names? Definitely not. Have the cops ever gotten on to you for anything before? No. What email thingy do you use? (yahoo, gmail, rock) ... Rock? lol anyway my main is Hotmail, but I inevitably have a gmail to have a YouTube account. What game system(s) do you own? PS2, Wii, Nintendo DS Lite, and a GameBoy Advance. Are you any good at Guitar Hero? I used to be; I played most songs on Expert, then some really tough ones on Hard. I was soooooo addicted to those games. I remember when I got the first one for Christmas, I literally played it all day. Have you ever played Call of Duty? Nah, not my jam. What is your favorite/most visited website? YouTube. Is your bed comfortable? Sure. I've definitely had way worse. Do you have a garage? No. Fun fact, I've never lived in a house with one. Should you be doing anything right now? What? There's a number of things I could be doing that are definitely more productive, like finishing decorating my damn room. Do doctors or dentists make you more nervous? Not really. I only ever get nervous to hear my weight at the doctor's. Did you ever think you were about to die before? I don't quite know. When I ODed, it was more like I didn't care if I did. Have you ever really had a near death experience? Was it cool? "Was it cool." Literally fuck off. I guess you could technically consider my OD a "near death experience," especially given how many pills I took, yet I somehow experienced almost no ill symptoms. Maybe because we got to the ER for fluids quickly enough, idk. I'm just glad I didn't die. What is your favorite kind of weather? Snowy! Like a steady snowfall of large flakes with no breeze and total silence. *chef's kiss* Ever tasted beer? Ugh, no. Just the smell makes me sick. It was my dad's drink of choice when he was an alcoholic so I just have a very negative association with it. Have you ever seen a dead body? Yes, at an open-casket wake. Ever poured salt on a slug? As kids, my sisters and I would get our parents to do it because they grossed us out. So, so cruel. I still have this weird but pretty extreme phobia of them, but I wouldn't torture the things like that.

[lastcrystalwitch]

4/11/21

Curbing frustrations due to stopping smoking, *I am constantly reminding myself to be a decent human being, and be decent to others. Its been a while since I stopped smoking. But this is the first time I did so willingly.

I had my heart broke. A close friend of mine turned out to be an enemy. Someone who didn't believe in me from the beginning, lied to my face countless times that I am just finding out about, and told others bad things about me. All I can do, and all I could ever do, however, us just accept this distrust, because that is the person that they want to be and I cant change that. I can only just keep being myself, wishing good for everyone and understand what it is that makes me tick, and focus on my needs. I spent a year and a half doting on that person, taking care of them, bringing them gifts, and trying to make them smile when most of what they did was talk bad about me behind my back, lie to me, and prove to me that they don't respect me, don't care about me, and they are stuck in a childish mindset.

Honestly early drug use in young teens prevents their brain from developing. So perhaps that's the case. You're a lost boy from neverland. And If you want to grow up and stop acting spoiled and entitled, and super selfish, you'll have to try harder than everyone else. But small steps first starting out.

Spirit told me not to burn my bridge with you. That you will grow up, that you will learn, but only after you lose your entire family, people disown you because of your cowardly negligence, and you lose everything. I don't keep liars as friends. And I should have been more careful. They say love is blind. But only the ancients understood it fully. This is why I still love you. I see you for you, and not what everyone else sees. Let me explain.

There are many forms of a persons soul. Spirit, soul, essence, and physical outer spirit, what you show everyone else, are all radically different things.

To help explain this a little bit I borrowed the following list from Wikipedia, which does a fair job at explaining most things. However, there was an exceptional volume written by one of my favorite authors so far, in the early 1800's - and his name unfortunately escapes me. He was a scholar, professor, archeologist, and preserver of ancient history. He had traveled to many many sites from ancient cultures, mainly Egypt, and it is because of his work as a linguist that we were able to get this list together to help others understand there is more to a person than just their spirit and their soul.

1Khet (physical)

2Sah (spiritual body)

3Ib (heart)

4Ka (vital essence)

5Ba (personality)

6Shut (shadow)

7Sekhem (form)

8Ren (name)

So, each one of these is its own separate element that makes up a person. And in this book from the 1800's, the one that escapes my memory - he goes into each of these, and If I am remembering correctly, this is not an exhaustive list; there are more elements to a person. But he goes into each one and breaks it down. I can do my best to explain these, but I feel like I wouldn't do half as much as a good job.

But when I look at a person, I don't know if it is my vision, but I don't see someone's KHET. I see their "ihb", Thier "Shut", and their "Ka."

But that is because as someone who was constantly bullied in my life, by all types of people, beautiful people, ugly people, faking nice people ... I don't look at the way that they dress, or how skinny they are. That is the least important part of a person. The most important part of a person is the part that they show to no one when no one else is there, how they interact with strangers, and how they interact with animals and their environment. Spencer might have broken my trust, but I see his KA, I've always seen it. And his Ka is beautiful, RARE, and so strong. He asked me what I see in him. Many people have asked me what I see in him. He has broken BA, and a very interesting Sekhem. He hates his own Ren as much as I do, and opened up to me as to why. And I know he wasn't lying about that. I enjoy his company because I see who he wants to be. And I see his Shut, (shu*ot) or his shadow. But behind every Shut, there is a light side. And he has the capability to become one of the most successful and influential people I know. He has endless potential which he hasn't even scratched the surface with, and he can change so many peoples entire lives, and doesn't even know it yet. I love his Sah, which isn't easy to explain to someone who has never heard these terms before.

And without which is why I see lots of growth needed for him to do. And he'll get there. It might take him 20 years to stop being afraid of himself, and I say that with so much love. Afraid, not calling him a coward, he is very brave, but he runs away in fear of getting hurt, and in fear of people letting him down, like so many people have done so many times in the past. Your Ka is beautiful. One of the most rare and strongest I have ever seen. As shocking of a presence as being very tall. Someone with a beautiful Ka will always influence others. Always draw attention. They are so rare and unique of a person that instantly others are attracted to them. Instantly they get noticed.

You know what is cute? Someone so tall trying to be invisible. ^-^

They are able to be someone that others depend on, feel safe around, and look up to. People want to be around others with a Ka like that. Always. Even when you're feeling blue. Because when that Ka feels better, when its not sad, when you get out of your comfort zone, set a goal for yourself and get it done, the sun comes out of the darkness. And that Ka starts emanating happiness. People with strong Ka's are like superweapons. They can be the back bone of families. Someone who everyone loves and cherishes. I don't think they know it, but that Ka is the most beautiful part of someone. And it drives me insane to think that he doesn't even know his own worth!

I forgive you for lying to me. I don't accept it, lying isn't good. But I understand why you did it. They were selfish reasons, and I don't use the word selfish in a negative way. Selfish in the fact that you were just looking for a way to get what you wanted, to make yourself happy. So you could have fun, enjoy the day, and smile like you do sometimes.

But you are still a child when it fully understands what it is that makes a person happy. And that's not your fault. You never learned the secret. No one told you because it doesn't exist in your family. It doesn't really even exist in mine, its something that I had to figure out and struggle through myself growing up, and dedicating 15 years to bettering myself and doing everything I could to become the best version of myself;

In order to be happy with the decisions that you make, in order to feel comfortable with you decisions and be proud of yourself, you have to know yourself. When we spend so much time hiding and looping pain around in our heads we spiral down into a circle that never ends. This leads to depression, drug abuse, alcoholism, lying to your friends, lying to your family, and lying to yourself. You'll look in the mirror and not know/not like who you are. To not know yourself.

Take time to practice healthy practices for you. Become an adult. Become who you want to be. You say you wished she'd come out of the blue and make you be someone who you wished you were: Someone confident. Someone happy. You wished you were okay. You said that she'd come into your life and make you stop drinking, stop doing all the drugs.

Be careful what you wish for, Giant. She came into your life. She adored you. She tried to show you how to love. You pushed her away, thwarted her efforts to help you, shamed her, disrespected her, hurt her feelings, tore her soul, made her spend entire nights crying over you and your decisions. She just wanted to trust you. And you broke that trust. YOU destroyed your relationship with select few who really were expecting great things from you.

Because you still need to learn. You still need to try. There is a point, and it is possible. Everything that you want, you can achieve. The only person who is stopping it is yourself. Grow up.

I see your pain. You can't understand that because you can't empathize with others like I can. I know your heartbreak. I can say that because I have a very big heart.

But seriously, grow up. Set a goal. Get it done. You're sitting and rotting in your own filth and its no ones fault but yours. You can blame anyone you want to. Anyone. I can think of seven people you'd probably blame instead of yourself.

Take responsibility for your actions. This is a part of growing up. Accept that you made a mistake. Say your sorry, and try again. When you do something wrong, admit it. When you go out of your way to hurt someone, tell yourself that it is bad. Be a god damn decent human being and the world will be yours. Stop living like a pathetic thief. You're better than that. You're stronger than that. I see your Ka, and I believe in you. Seriously, stop your shit. Just stop. This is bigger than your deep seeded sadness. This is about the rest of your life.

I can't force you to change. You'll either change, or stay the same miserable self you are and end up being hated and shamed by everyone in your family. But its up to you. Its only up to you. She came into your life. You got what you wished for. You had the lock, and she had the key. But you have to be the one that turns the key and opens the door to your own success and future. Sometimes you have to help yourself. Sometimes you have to do things for yourself.

I know you can do it. I believe in you. But it doesn't matter what I say or think, or how I feel. You'll never see it that way, unless you grow up and get your head out of your ass. <3 Be a man, know yourself. Learn what it is that makes you tick. Stop the drugs. They're just a guaranteed trip to self sabotage and unhappiness. Seriously dude, you're going the wrong way on that, and I CAN SEE. So I'm giving you a heads up. It doesn't make you feel better

STOP LYING. Mostly stop lying to yourself. Drugs don't solve anything. What do they make you do? Well, they mess up your kidneys, which always hurt and only feel better when you apply pressure to them. You're rotting your kidneys. You've only got two, and a rare blood type, so the more you drink and the more you do drugs, the higher your creatinine level will be and it becomes like a cutter. You are injuring yourself to the point of self harm. And you do it deliberately to TAKE THE PAIN AWAY.

I know this because I can see your spirit. And there were so many conversations that we have had. So many that I know you don't remember. And after finding out how much you lie, I can't believe all of it anymore. I can't trust you. YOU DID THAT. No one else. And it sucks, but even behind all the lies, the Ka was still there. I could feel your actual hurt as my own, so those 5am talks we had, all those conversations, and the times that you were there for me, weather you were to blind to know that you were there for me and if you even realized it or not, I just want to say thank you.

Thank you for pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and hanging around me sometimes. Thank you for sitting with me on the couch, while I cried because my soul hurt and the world didn't make sense. Thank you for showing me what a kind person and loving friend you actually really are, even if it is hidden under layers and layers of pain and guilt and self loathing. Thank you for letting me get to know a little bit of you, and thank you for making me smile when you know I didn't feel good. Thank you for making me laugh when things were getting too serious. Thank you for sharing your joy with me in my life. You don't know how many times you made me feel better just by being able to forget about all the worlds problems and sing in the car. Thank you for saying things without saying them, and showing me that you are so genuine and unique, there really isn't anyone like you in this world. You are super special, and you've literally saved my life the night you let me come into your room and sit there and watch the fishes. You don't know how much pain I was in. And you were there for me. You helped me not end my life that night. I only walked away with a couple scars. YOU HELPED ME. YOU did. Just by letting me in. We didn't talk. I couldn't. I was crying too much and my Ba and Ka were in absolute shambles. You didn't do anything except be in the right place at the right time, but your energy, as confused as it was at that time, helped me know that I wasn't the only one alone and suffering. And it was okay. and YOU had given me another reason to keep breathing. You'll never know how much you mean to me. Thank you for what you have helped me though.

I hope you can learn and know the Wisdom, not knowledge, that you can do anything you set your mind to, if you want to. I have proved to myself and to you, that you are the only one that is making your life miserable. I have done everything for you. And unless it is served to you on a silver platter, you reject it. You are the only one stopping your life progress. And you've convinced and lied to yourself so much about it that somehow you actually believe it is true.

I wish you could see through my eyes.

Even better, I wish you the courage and strength it takes to change you life and want to succeed better. Because you have all the tools. Shit, I gave you EVERYTHING. The only excuse is yourself. You are what is stopping you.

Life goes on. We never forget them. But we have to live our lives. They forced themselves to be a memory. Force yourself to live. Go live out your own story. Stop lying to yourself. Your a fricking great person! You lie, sure. You manipulate, sure. But I see you! That isn't who you want to be and the time in your life right now is merely a stepping stone for all the endless things that are out there. There are layers of things that you don't understand. I'm not trying to be mean, but trust me when I say there's a lot out there.

Maybe someday we will meet again when you turn into an adult. Because right now I see you as a boy. There is so much out there to look forward to. There are SO many fun things out there in different cultures. You have a journey ahead of you, and I just wished that I could have been part of it with you.

I forgive you. You really really hurt me. And it absolutely is your fault and no one else. But at the end of the day, its You who has to live with who you are. And you can CHANGE and Grow. I have all ready seen the person you are 20 years from now. And you wouldn't believe it if I told you. Rv's, dual citizenship, backpacked across the grand canyon, visited MT St. Helen, been to Yellowstone 3 times, had lots of fun there with friends. Married, divorced. Someone who is comfortable in his own skin. Someone who doesn't feel the need to impress everyone, and who is happy. Someone who has become comfortable in his own skin. Someone who doesn't get offended by what other people think.

In 20 years I see you happy. I see you deciding you're a product of your environment and you wanted to change because everything is not set in stone. Its just what you knew. Past tense.

You can learn from your mistakes.

Just because you've never won the lottery, doesn't mean its not possible. People are winning the lottery all the time. There is hope. Just because you have never felt comfortable in your own skin doesn't mean that its not possible. It just means that you can experience it, and LIVE it, and KNOW it, for the first time, and for the rest of your life.

In 20 years you have more money than you know what to do with, and you have your own place, and like 3.5 cars, 2 that run 2 that don't. Projects. You have goals. You have your own family. You have your own life. People look up to you. You smile more. Your mouth doesn't hurt anymore because you stopped saying, "It doesn't matter." Instead you say things like, "Its possible."

But you have to try. And you have to keep trying.

But first you have to stop with the drinking and stop with the drugs, because you're literally hurting yourself and everyone around you, and you are going to be the only reason that you end up alone and unhappy. The truth hurts. Just like when I found out how much you really did lie to me, after I really didn't deserve it. I did everything I could to help you. I spent hours doing paperwork for you to help you get free dental, researching schools for GEDS, looking at loan and credit repair options, screening background checks to help you find out if you were really hung up locked out of states and not allowed to come back. You're actually not banned from Florida or Texas. There are no warrants out for your arrest by the way, because you never actually did anything super terrible. Otherwise you would have been thrown in jail instead of told to get the hell out of dodge.

There are people out in this world that really do care about you, and really want to see the best for you. But you have to want the best for yourself. You just want to be happy. I don't know how high or drunk you were when we had that conversation, but you just want to be you again. You just want to be happy again.

You can be. You have to do it though. I can't hold your hand like a little boy and do it for you. I tried. YOU were the reason that it didn't work. I did my part. YOU were the one that let yourself down. Literally all you had to do was to sign it. And I see this pattern with you.

Really, lets go ahead and break this down.

You are the cause of your own unhappiness.

Others can literally do EVERYTHING for YOU, and you come up with some kind of excuse and you LIE to YOURSELF, of why it won't happen. You do this to yourself. You are what they call, "A product of self fulfilling prophecies."

That's because you make it happen.

Your success: YOU make it happen.

Your failures: YOU make it happen.

Its really up to you to decide who you want to be. Not the other way around. Really. I'm not joking. I'm being honest. I'm not lying.

You can do it.

But you have to want it.

And you don't have to be alone.

And as shitty as you have treated me, and as terrible as a human you've been to me, doesn't make it ok. That was a really really mean, unnecessary and childish thing you did, for the past year and a half. Manipulating me like you did.

It still hurts because I trusted you, and you shit on me. YOU did that. That was YOUR choice.

But its MY choice to give you a heads up and let you know what you've been wanting to know this whole time, You are the way to your future. If you want to be miserable for the rest of your life, I cannot stop you. If you want to be treated like a little boy, who lies, and who is mean for the rest of your life, I cannot stop you. You are the only one who can change you.

Your entire future and happiness is up to you.

Choose your attitude. Choose your future. Choose to be someone you can be proud of. For once, stop lying to yourself. Its stupid.

[popculturebuffet]

Loud House Reviews: The Loudest Thanksgiving

It’s almost Thanksgiving! And a vastly diffrent one than in recent memory: Most of us are slimming down family gatherings to just whose in our house, you know because theirs a pandemic going on and it’s not worth risking your life for it. To those either guilting their families into it or doing so because MAGa or some such I only have this to say. 

Speaking of Black Friday i’ts spread over a week and it’s cyber deals mean I got a ton of graphic novels for a dollar a piece and my christmas shopping almost done. So in other words, boo Maga, yay safe and responsible captalisim.  But while the holiday may be diffrent, as well as the pseudo holiday attached that spawned a wonderful musical and many many injuries, one thing stays the same; Holiday Episodes. And despite being the less popular of the three holidays, Thanksgiving still produced tons of great holiday episodes and specials. And with everything being so busy I simply didn’t put too much thought into what to do for Turkey Day.. well okay the day proper i’m going to eat, spend time with family and watch a bunch of mystery science theater 3000, stay the course even in these troubling times, just with only the 4 other people who live in my house. But in terms of episodes I thought i had nothing.. then I started actually thinking on it and what do you know I have three things I want to do for the holiday, though one might wait till next year, and possibly a fourth. But given my workload currently, i’m not one to back away from a challenge, so welcome to a three or four course meal of reviews. First course: The Loud House thanksgiving special, the loudest thanksgiving.  I originally wasn’t going to do this one, mostly because due to my large workload and constant battle with procastination, I keep having to push back the latest episode review, and I have to do that one soon, as there’s a new episode in december and a christmas episode i’ve put off watching for far too long , as I INTENDED to watch eleven louds a leapin for every chirstmas up till now and never got to it before the season was over.  But just like elven louds.. Nick forced my hand.. and by that I mean the SPINOFF got a thanksgiving episode that’s also a sequel in some fashion to this episode. If I wanted to cover that episode this thanksgiving or the next I had to at least watch the original. And frankly, this close to the holiday there was no reason not to review it. So with that out of the way. 

Let’s Get At Er. This is The Loudest Thanksgiving... after the break

The Loudest Thanksgiving takes place during season 3, and still pre-casagrandes spinoff launch despite the christmas special taking place earlier. This is actually easy to explain: The Loud House runs on Comic Strip time... i.e. the characters don’t age unless the writers decide they do. But while the spinoff was in motion at this point, it was still a season off airing wise, and ill advised raitings stunt mini series wise, so in order to keep the Casagrandes fresh in people’s minds presumably, they did a crossover that at this point wasn’t a crossover but now technically is because the show exists but this existed before the show. 

It’s just a show, and I should really just relax. Point is this is a pre-crossover crossover, the two families meet for the first time, the man already said pitter patter, let’s get back at er.  So we open with Flip serving as our magical snowman narrator and regaling us with the tale of steven. Every compastionate can you imagine it... and i’m fucking with you, it’s of course abotu that time the louds and the casagrandes tried having thanksgiving together. 

We then cut to Lori and Bobby being all cute, as usual, and both talking over the phone as each show off their thanksgivings to each other and the enusing family shenanigans. On Lori’s side Lynn is wearing baggy pants so she dosen’t miss the game or the meal by going to the bathroom.. because that’s how pissing yourself works. Look if your going to do something that gross, stupid and broish just woman up and wear an adult diaper. The twins are guarding Lynn sr and the food, poorly, and Lisa has invented a Gravy Squriting robot. I can only see this ending one way. 

Yeah those single function robots really get useless once the exestnetial crisis kicks in. 

On the casagrandes side, Rosa is likewise guarding her kitchen, Frida is painting and Hector plans to sernade eveyrone because Hector is the best and you all should know that. Even with the recent Bobby Abuse he’s still awesome. As for the Mercado, CJ and Ronnie Anne are running the annual canned food drive because CJ is better than the best and should really be used more often.  Both wish they could be there.. and both honestly talk about possibly spending thanksgiving with each other and just one of their family. It’s not a wild proposition: Both are going to college soon, both are in a longterm relationship.. they plan to get married down the line for now. If things hold they will eventually have to figure this out. Of course rather than fate let them figure this out themselves, Hector overhears on Bobby’s end and Lincoln, whose busy A Clock Work Oranging himself so he can stay awake during dinner, overhears on Loris, leading to an emergency family meeting for both sides.  Both families are worried their prospective teenager going to another house of their longterm significant other for one year will mean they get all the holidays. Having never had a relationship last long enough to worry about this, I don’t quite get it as in my experince watching couples juggle this.. they usually just alternate years, spoilers the solution the episode goes with, or trade off christmas and thanksgiving, both fair solutions. Buuut as much as this bothered me at first the more I thought about it the more it actually made sense: People.. aren’t always rational and won’t always do the smart or correct thing, especially when it comes to their children. And with Lori leaving college and the casagrandes being togehter for thanksgiving for the first time in about 5 years, with both ronnie anne and her mom not having had a proper one in some time due to her mom needing to work thanksgiving, presumibly because of the eternal curse of gravy chugging contests, they have valid emotional reasons to go a bit nuts and do some irrational and assholish things. They just don’t want to loose their big sister and big brother, and that’s fair. It may not be at all accurate but it’s fair. 

So thus began the great Guilt Off of 2018. ON the Loud side they START with a fairly soft pitch, the twins simply offer her food early, and she takes it because honestly I would too. Then again, i’d also take free food in just about any situation, so i’m not really a good gage for this. As long as it’s not poision i’ll probably eat it if it’s free. The next two are a little.. less subtle, with the kids talking about Lori’s roll in the annual thanksgiving skit.. which I’m assuming is soley for Lynn Sr. as no one else seems to be going to their thanksgiving. Which granted theirs valid explinations for why their neighbors didn’t go, the mcbrides and mr grouse have their own families and while Mr Grouse rarely gets to see his, he now has neighborly friends after the last holiday special happy to help. But Pop Pop.. makes no sense as his girlfriend, the only plausable reason he wouldn’t be there, was said to not have much family in her debut. So he’s just.. absent from thanksgiving for no reason. Thena gain we later find out this play is movie length, so maybe he was just trying to escape that which in that case, who can blame him. Rita almost reigns things back in with the mother’s trump card: parental guilt. Almost. She then almost crushes lori’s hand but it’s funny enough.  At the Casagrandes, their opening move is largely the same only Rosa wins in terms of execution, cooking up some of bobby’s faviorites to specificially target him. Frida paints him into a painting, again the Casagrandes win his one in terms of effort. They do tie in the last bit, as Maria and Ronnie Anne try the same sort of guilt slining with the same bone crushing.  Eventually both teens get fed up with the next bit; For Lori, Lucy gives her a long overdramatic poem about an empty chair which is easily tied with one bit later for best bit of hte episode.. which granted when I can only think of two or three gags that really made me laugh...

Bobby likewise gets Hector telling the story about a realitvie not going to thanksgiving. Both get angry.. which for Lori, isn’t all that suprising, if entirely warranted. For Bobby though? It’s like pissing off a dolphin. IT’s hard to do and very much not something you want to actually pull of. Both families are forced to admit they eavesdropped, and are incredibly worried about this whole situation, with Lynn Sr selling lincoln up the river for telling them... this man’s capacity for selling out his children is as awe insprising as it is truly pathetic. 

So the two teens go back to their rooms to figure something out and come upon a reasonable solution: just have one of the families host and both come to it. That’s more than fair. But given we still have a full special to pad out, both families are still treating this like a competion: while the louds win the coin toss, both sides are determined to win thanksgiving. IT’s far from the most insane contest i’ve seen this month, x of swords was happening and i’ve seen a russian yank a goblin out of the demonic alligator skin he was using as a puppet. And we don’t know for sure Arrakoa and Krakoa didn’t have a trial over a baby turkey being adorable as one of the challenges. Other challenges included getting drunk, an eating contest, telling someone to murder a kitten and a wedding, all of this is actual stuff that happened in this recent crossover, I have made up nothing. 

So after the break and Flip realizing oh shit the audience is back, the war begins. The Louds are preparing for war, with Lola putting out a picture of herself instead of bobby and laurie because of course.. still not a half bad gag. The Casagrandes arrive and in in a passive agressive move that was already done a year before this special by Brooklyn Nine Nine and better, brought their own food.. though the roast pig is a nice and unique touch. Points for that.  And this.. is where the special gets tedious. Yeah while the IDEA of this episode was really good and I was excited to cover it in practice it’s just similar gags on both sides done for both halves: The first being “let’s guilt them into staying” and the second being “Let’s one up each other” with only two bits really working: Frieda having a painting and the louds annual skit.  And the skit is because it raises a LOT of questions: Why is it 90 minutes, who played the adorable turkey in the years between babies? Was it just whoever was youngest? Who wrote this? Who is this for besides Lynn Sr and Pop Pop? Who all has sat through this thing at some point? Is that why the mcbrides don’t come over for thanksgiving? It’s just.. fantastic is what i’m saying.  

But otherwise this part is just the family trying to one up each other with food, or toasts, or song, before devolving into a big fight. What makes it not work is.. there isn’t a lot of personality there. You have these two big, plentiful, intresting casts, even at this stage with the Casagrandes far less established and fleshed out. And instead of finding interesting ways for them to play off one another meeting for the first time, and to use that to also flesh the characters out more for the inevitable spinoff, it’s just 

For most of the second half. Thankfully it DOES manage to bring things around as after things degenerate into a food fight, the families decide to just ASK the two of them where they want to go.. and find them entirely missing.  It then turns out, in a nice twist, this is where Flip came in. Since his place is the only place open 24/7 and 365, barring fishing season, Bobby and Lori fled here to flee their insane families.. who then follow them there because Carlos and Lisa have them chipped. I was suprised at first Carlos had a tracker on bobby but honestly, i’ts just common sense. The man is like a golden retriver in a man’s body. Here’s an artists interpretation

Both families breifly bicker before Lori and Bobby announce their starting their own family thankgiving with blackjack, and hookers. They really shouldn’t of let Flip in on the brainstorming session. Both families don’t want that, and apologize, admitting they just didn’t want to loose them and both genuinely offering to let the other have them next year. Flip, who despite having a “pay for my colonoscopy jar” with a picture of his ass on it, is somehow the voice of reason and just suggests trading thanksgivings every year, everyone accepts, and we do get a genuinely heartwarming ending of both sides gathering everything for a gas station thanksgiving. Honestly reminds me of king of the hill’s airport episode, but in a very good way and still unique enough circumstances to work.Also Flip, of all people, donates the cans needed to finish the can drive.. granted i’m not sure if they WANT any of that meat, but hey, he meant well and it made me really like the character.  We get a heartwearming duet between hector and luna and sono the whole family and we’re out. 

Final Thoughts: This was disapointing. I’ve listed most of my complaints already, but overall it wasted a good premise of two families coming together, and even the feud parts could’ve been funnier. As it is it’s just.. ehhhhhhhhhh. It has some good parts, and bobby is an angel here on earth as always. But the whole just feels padded. Like this was SUPPOSED to just be 11 minutes, got bumped up, and thus here we are. It’s not the worst Loud House has done, i’ve seen and heard of muccch worse, but for a holiday special it just feels stale and i’ve seen way better thanksgiving specials. And i’ll be getting to that.  If there’s an episode of a cartoon you’d like me to cover, just pop in my ask box or dms and you can comission a review for 5 bucks a piece. Discounts on bulk, 15 for movies. Until then , happy thanksgiving.

[ollieologys]

Hey could you please write something for the reader where she is a fan of Tom and the other avengers actors and she wakes up in a different place (turns out she got teleported to a different universe) and sees Tom walking around and she goes Tom? But really it’s peter And the other avengers come and they r all confused and try to help her back to her universe im so sorry if this is hard to understand 😬

Title; Peter Holland

Summary; You never thought you’d meet Tom Holland, and you never thought you’d meet Peter Parker, either. But here you are.

Words; 4k

Pairing; Avengers x Reader, Peter Parker x Reader

Warning; far from home spoilers! and minor swearing because.. it’s me lol

Notes; thanks for the request! this is kinda like my summertime (with you) series, but different, so go check that out! love u lots also, lets just assume that everybody was okay after civil war and the snap hasn’t happened or anything and domestic!avengers is alive and well.

     “I literally want to strangle Mysterio. Like, genuinely strangle him.”

Evening overtook the city as you left the movie theater, smiling gently at the concession worker and thanking her for providing you with delicious popcorn. You had just seen Spider-man: Far From Home for the fifth time - this time with your best friend - and still couldn’t seem to fathom how Peter was going to handle this newfound trouble.

Thankfully, you had the internet to discuss your concerns. And, of course, how amazing Tom Holland looked in his most recent stand-alone movie. That you saw five times. Because, why not?

Your friend laughed at your protective nature and draped her arm over your shoulder, stumbling down the sidewalk to your car.

“You know, Y/N, maybe you should like - make an Anti-Mysterio blog,” She suggested with a laugh. You rolled your eyes, a smile creeping on your face.

“You know what?” You tested her, eyes daring. “I just might.” She laughed at your declaration and opened the passenger door. Somehow, you always ended up leaving the theater with this conversation rising. You’d been a massive fan of Tom ever since he appeared in ‘Civil War’ a few years ago, and had followed his career ever since. You had grown to love his portrayal of Peter Parker and would gladly argue with anyone who challenged his acting.

While driving her home, you daydreamed what meeting Tom would be like. Maybe you’d be vacationing in London - freely roaming the streets and searching for anything familiar when suddenly you bump into his chest and spill your coffee. You’d apologize profusely, bending down to pick up the now empty cup, and your fingers would touch, and he’d fall in love with you instantly. Tessa would cuddle at the edge of your shared bed, you’d follow him on press tours, and he’d introduce you to his family. Your best friend would be your maid of honor. Everything would be just perfect.

“Uh, hello? Y/N?” She snapped in front of your face, and suddenly you jumped and gripped the steering wheel. “What?” You questioned, looking at her.

“I said goodnight, you little shit,” she laughed, your face still puzzled as you returned from your land of dreams. She opened the car door, leaning down to give you a final wave goodbye. You waved with a smile, wishing her sweet dreams before driving home.

You made sure to quietly close your front door - the resident just beside your apartment always slept early, and he hated loud noises waking him up - and slowly stripped yourself of the trash from the movie theater before falling into your bed. The clock read a quarter past eleven.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, the notification sound of your phone went off. You groaned, tossing and turning to get to the sleep-depriving device. Your annoyance turned to joy as you saw Tom had posted a picture on Instagram, which turned out to be a selfie from the set of Far From Home. Your heart swelled, admiration for the actor filling your chest as you drifted to sleep. 

The next morning, your routine hadn’t changed much. You got ready for the day with your phone in your hand, scrolling through your social media to catch up on what had happened while you were asleep. Surprisingly, no messages showed up. You hadn’t thought much of it, though. It was a calm Sunday - your friends were most likely asleep still.

While you didn’t work on weekends, you decided to bring yourself out of your house and into the city that was New York. Just for a short stroll, you told yourself. You’d take the Manhattan-bound train and eat at your favorite cafe, or perhaps go visit your friends. Either way, you wanted to get out of the house. Daydreaming was always better while you were in motion.

While sitting on the train, you scrolled through your playlist of seemingly endless songs and waited for your stop to be announced. By now it was just past one, and you couldn’t choose a song to listen to. Even so, your regular Sunday morning changed drastically when you finally decided a tune and looked up from your phone.

There stood, quite literally in front of you, Tom Holland. He wore a plaid dress shirt with a navy blue sweater over it, white earbuds sat still in his ears, a Jansport backpack over his shoulders. You wondered why no one else on the train noticed, or why he was here so casually. 

Your stop was announced. You stood, and amazingly, Tom got off the train as well. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, the crush you had developed over him quickly arising, and you remembered how your dream of meeting him was nothing like this. Suddenly, you realized you had just been standing there and watching him make his way up the stairs and into the streets.

“Fuck,” you whispered to no one in particular. “Okay, relax. Just go ask for a picture and try not to die.”

You whispered quiet encouragements to yourself up until you tapped his shoulder. 

“Uh, yes?” Tom turned to you, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. You mouth ran dry, fumbling with the phone in your hand. It was almost as though you had forgotten your name. “I was wondering if I could get a quick picture with you?” Your voice was soft and polite, eye contact unbreaking. He wasn’t with family or friends, so there was no harm in asking for one picture, right?

Seriously, how was New York not freaking out over the fact that they were breathing the same air as Tom Holland?

He looked at you, confused. “I’m sorry,” He started, turning fully towards you. “I think you have the wrong person.” You shook your head, looking down. Now, you weren’t one to pry - especially on your celebrity crush - but was he genuinely trying to play off the fact that he wasn’t an actor belonging to one the of the largest franchises to exist?

“Tom Holland, right? You’re an actor for Marvel.” You stated questioningly, doubting yourself. Maybe he was a lookalike.

“No, I’m not,” He says, clarifying your confusion. “My name’s Peter.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times and shake your head. Had he just said his name was Peter? “Peter?” You repeated him, glaring lightly. “As in Peter Parker?” His eyes widened slightly. He sized you up, possibly to see if you were some sort of threat, but his senses hadn’t gone off in any way. 

“How do you know that?” He demanded, his voice grew to become defensive. In an instant, your heartbeat had no longer sped up from the fact that you were standing in front of your celebrity crush, but rather from the concept that he might not be your celebrity crush. Of course, that was a long reach. If this were Peter Parker standing in front of you, you were undoubtedly dreaming. Then again, everything felt so incredibly real. Lucid dreams you had before hadn’t even felt this real.

You began to consider the possibility that something happened. You didn’t quite know what - because you swear it was just confirmed that a multi-verse was in fact not real - but something must have happened. Tom – or Peter – didn’t seem to be joking when he established his real name. You began to wonder how much power you possess. Not superpower, but the power of knowledge, as you knew exactly what happens in the Marvel Universe. If you told him too much, you could mess up his entire world. 

Then you realized that sounded absolutely insane. You were definitely dreaming. Nonetheless, you needed to get out of the dream before you say something you shouldn’t. So, you ignore his question and ask your own. 

“What year is it?” You lowered your voice, careful as to not let passersby hear your unusual question. 

Peter’s face became increasingly puzzled, but he answered nonetheless. “It’s 2019. You didn’t answer my question, though - how do you know my name?”

You nodded to yourself, not bothering to answer quickly. If it were 2019, that means that Thanos hasn’t happened just yet. You were almost entirely sure that the Avengers had moved upstate, though. 

“Listen, Peter,” Your voice took more initiative as confidence flooded your system. You were almost sure you were dreaming, but you knew exactly what you needed to do to wake up. “I need you to take me to see the Avenger’s upstate. Like, right now.”

His mouth parted, shocked. Questions and ideas poured into his mind, and he looked side to side before stepping towards you. “How do you know my name, and who are you?” He questioned you more, and the proximity to him allowed a blush to form on your cheeks.

“I promise I’ll answer your questions if you just take me to where I need to go,” You promised.

He refused. “I’m not taking you anywhere.”

You sighed as he turned away. You knew he wouldn’t merely forget you, probably do some research on who you are and find absolutely nothing, so you chased after to him and pulled his arm toward you. He opened his mouth to say something before you interrupted.

“I know you’re Spider-Man.” You whispered.

His eyes widened more, and he checked to see if anyone had heard you. Then, he stepped backward and let out a nervous puff. “I-I’m not Spider-Man.” His voice sounded the exact same as to when he told MJ the same thing, and you mentally laughed to yourself. He was the cutest boy on the planet. Or, in your dream. Or in fiction. You weren’t quite sure.

“You don’t have to lie. I’m not gonna say anything, trust me,” You thought back to Mysterio and glowered at the thought. That dick. Then, you thought back to Mysterio’s claim of the multi-verse. Peter loved that theory, you remembered, and he accepted it with open arms. Even if it was made up, you knew it would be the only explanation to get him moving. Nonetheless, Peter was hesitant to accept you as anything but a threat. Despite his senses quiet as ever, you still knew his only secret, and he didn’t even know who you are. 

“Please,” you begged, your voice wavering. He could feel your sudden fear. “I don’t think I’m in the right place, and I need your help getting home.” Peter’s face softened as you spoke. No matter what, he always wanted to help people. You seemed to already have the ability to hurt him, but you didn’t, and your heart ached at the idea of how trusting he was. Even so, you felt grateful for his help.

With his new-found information, he walked with you back to the subway, and you began your journey to was what you assumed his apartment. You quickly realized you would have the pleasure of meeting Aunt May - but you decided to introduce yourself formally. You didn’t want to freak him out or anything. 

You told him all about your life. Where you lived in New York, where you went to school, how much you loved your best friend and how much of a fan you were of him. You decided not to talk much about Tom Holland - you thought about how you would feel if someone described your life as merely a movie they watched whenever they felt like it. Peter listened intently, taking note of your unusually quick heart-beat and flushed cheeks as he sat just next to you. 

He walked you up to his apartment, and you soaked in the scenery as best you could. After all, it wasn’t every day something like this happened. Even if you didn’t quite understand what this was. Peter told you little about himself, but you didn’t need much anyway. 

He pushed the door open softly, calling out a greeting to May. She popped her head out from the kitchen and waved. “Hey, Peter, I thought you just left?” She asked, stepping out in full as she noticed you. “Oh? Who is this?” She asked. You stood in awe of the apartment - everything appeared the exact same as it had in the movies. Peter answered for you, noticing you examining the apartment.

“This is Y/N, she’s a new transfer student from school, and we ran into each other.” He lied easily. Probably from all the practice with lying about being Spider-Man - even if May knew now. 

“Actually, May, we aren’t staying long. I’m gonna introduce her to Happy.” Peter stated, looking back at you for reassurance. You quietly nodded your head with a smile as your gaze shifted from Peter to Aunt May. She indeed was a beautiful woman. 

“Oh, oh, okay,” She smiled, nodding her head back to you and moving back into the kitchen. Peter brought you over to the couch and sat with you, pulling out his phone and calling Happy. You sat beside him quietly, heart calmed. Everything felt so real. The feel of the couch, the smell of Aunt May’s cooking, and Peter’s Queens accent flowing through your mind. 

You overheard Peter telling Happy he needed him here as soon as possible - describing the situation as ‘dire’ and ‘urgent.’ By now, Happy took Peter seriously, and soon enough, you were in the back of an infamous Audi and driving two hours to upstate New York. 

Peter sat on the opposite of you in the backseat. You hadn’t talked much - not past introducing yourself to Happy and smiling knowingly as he briefly greeted May. Peter didn’t make much conversation, either. You hoped he wasn’t too concerned with trusting you so quickly. He should work on that, in your opinion. Before it’s too late.

Eventually, you were given a guest badge by the receptionist and soon stood in an elevator with Happy and Peter. Soft elevator music played while your shoulders barely grazed Peter’s arm. He looked at you silently, and you returned his look with a smile that whispered: thank you. 

The moment the doors opened, your heart drop. 

In all their glory, the Avengers were sprawled across the living space as though they were one giant family. Natasha and Steve sat on the couch with a bowl of popcorn as their attention laid on the movie in front of them. Bucky and Sam sat on the floor, talking amongst themselves quietly. Bruce and Tony were on the other side of the room in the kitchen as they engaged in conversation. Pepper and Wanda seemed to be preoccupied with something on a 3D table but occasionally glanced at the TV. Thor was there as well, even with his brother Loki, and they watched the movie intently as though the plot was more intriguing than being a literal God.

They were entirely domestic. 

Your eyes seemed to be blown out of their sockets. Not only were you in the presence of superheroes and Gods, but you were in a completely different universe than what you expected. Peter noticed your tensed form and laid a hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” He whispered comfortingly. “You’re fine. They won’t hurt you or anything.”

You nodded, a frown formed on your face. Despite your worries, Peter’s comfort helped more than you had expected. A blush rose to your cheeks again. God, was this really the time for your inevitable crush on Peter Parker?

Tony turned as the three of you stepped out of the elevator. He noticed Happy and Peter first, greeting them with a warm smile before his eyes landed on you. His smile faltered slightly - he was confused. “Who’s this?” Tony asked, motioning towards you with the butter knife he held in his hand. The Avengers turned at the question, and you swore you almost passed out. You gasped lightly as Peter grasped onto your hand.

“This is Y/N, she needs some help.”

You sat quietly in the conference room just down the hall from the living room. You and the rest of the Avengers sat around the oval table, most eyes on you and Peter.

“So, you’re from another dimension?” Rhodey confirmed, his arms crossed skeptically. You nodded slowly, looking at Peter for reassurance. He nodded with a smile, and instantly, you felt at ease. “I think so,” you said, even though you were lying. This was clearly a dream - not another universe, or dimension, or Earth. “Honestly, I think I’m dreaming.” You admitted, the admiration of the world’s greatest heroes sitting in the same room as you flowing through your chest.

The team stayed quiet, questioning the truth of your words. Even though they had heard of unusual circumstances, you showed up out of nowhere. Trustworthy wouldn’t exactly be the word they used to describe you. You knew that, they knew that, and everybody knew that.

“Listen–” you started hesitantly, hoping they’d listen. “I know that I’m a stranger, and you have no obligation to help me, but I really want to go home. I don’t know how I got here, or why I’m here, or anything else - but I do know that I’m not meant to be here right now and that you guys are the only ones who can help me.”

The team looked amongst themselves, and not even Tony - the most talkative - spoke up. Your stomach dropped in fear of rejection, and for the first time since you had woken up, you were genuinely afraid that this was your fate. Unexpectedly, Steve spoke up.

“Y/N, we are obligated to help you - and we will. You did the right thing by coming to us,” His voice was stern, but a soft smile rested on his face.

Nat spoke up next as Bucky and Sam nodded in agreement. “Steve’s right. You’ll get home safe, don’t worry.” Your smile widened at that, and you gripped Peter’s hand tight and quietly thanked him as Bruce and Tony began to speculate how to get you home.

Hours passed. You explained over and over how your day went before you went to sleep, what you were doing before you went to sleep, and how your morning went when you woke up. Peter was beside you the entire time, and eventually, the team broke off to take breaks while Bruce continuously worked on getting you home. Despite wanting to keep your knowledge of their lives quiet, you couldn’t help but bond with the heroes as you sat amongst them comfortably. 

While you hadn’t had much alone time with any of the, you managed to give them words of encouragement you knew would benefit them further down the line. You told Bucky that he and The Winter Soldier were not one and that no matter what anyone said, it wasn’t his fault. You promised Steve that it’s okay to move on in life - not mentioning a name, but he knew what you meant. You went along in almost a circle formation and uplifted the team the best you could.

You had gotten attached, and a part of you felt sad imagining leaving.

It had gotten late. Just five minutes after eleven, and the team was ready to go off to bed. Though the group jokingly protested, Peter suggested you stay in his room for the night. There was a bed-like couch in his room anyway, and he had no problem sleeping on it. You protested, insisting he take his own bed, but he refused. Eventually, you complied and allowed yourself to relax. 

Just as everyone planned on going to bed, Rhodey spoke out with an idea.

“Wait, you said that you woke up here, right?” You nodded in response, glancing at Peter before shifting your eyes back to Rhodey. “So why don’t you just go to sleep at the time you went to sleep last night, and then you’ll wake up back home?” The team, not for the first time that day, responded with silence. You nodded your head slowly, looking at Bruce to see his reaction.

“Well,” Bruce stated, “It’s worth a shot. I’m not getting far in my research anyway.”

You agreed to try it out, noticing it was almost time for you to fall asleep. Luckily, you could feel yourself tiring out. “If this works, thank you all for being here with me. I’ll miss seeing you - I mean, I will, but not– you know what? I’ll just leave it at that,” You laughed, as did the rest of the team, and as they all departed for the night, they either patted your back or hugged you full on. 

Peter showed you to his room, and you appreciated how much quieter it was upstate than in the city. You sat on the edge of his bed, watching as he pulled a spare blanket from the closet and took a pillow from the bed. 

“Peter,” You muttered, your body exhausted. You suspected it was your atoms acting up from being in a different universe. Possibly - this still may very well be a dream. 

“Yeah, Y/N?” He asked, turning toward you. For a moment, you didn’t respond. Peter looked at you, expectantly. Deciding to break your rules slightly, you stood and walked toward him. Your eyes met his, and your heart exploded in your chest. He was so cute, especially in the moonlight. 

“I just want to say thank you,” Your voice was merely a whisper, and while he responded that it was no problem, you weren’t finished. Your heart ached as you thought about what was possible to come for him. After seeing how the Avengers were with each other, you weren’t entirely sure if the timeline would play out the same anymore, but you knew that Peter would eventually face obstacles alone and he’d need someone there for comfort. It was naive to think you could be that person, but you wouldn’t mind leaving an everlasting mark on his conscious. 

“I want you to remember that everything will be okay.” Slowly, you stood on your toes and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. Even with the minimal light, you could see the blush on his cheeks matching your own. You smiled and almost felt yourself tear up at the thought of never having this experience again. Not many girls back home could say they kissed Peter Parker. 

Peter smiled, pulling you into a hug. “I don’t know you very well, but I’m happy I met you.” You hugged him back tightly, feeling his warm body against yours and doubted that this was ever a dream. Nothing could feel this real and be a dream, and so while you finally let him go and lie down in the bed that he insisted you take for the night, you smile to yourself.

Your phone dings, but you don’t check the notification. Instead, you look out onto the field and slowly close your eyes - a part of you wishing to go home, and another begging to stay.

You were awoken to the sound of a new notification, and the bright light of the sun streaming through blinds. A groan left your lips as you tossed and turned. Eventually, you grasped the phone beside you and scrolled through the number of notifications you had.

All of them were missed calls from your best friend, your family, and hundreds of text messages. You sat up abruptly, taking in your surroundings and calling out for Peter. You quickly realized from the honking horns and the small room that you were back home, and from the sudden amount of notifications, you realized that you were just back where you needed to be.

Thoughts swarm your mind. You wondered how long you had been gone, and you felt terrible for how much concern you most likely caused your friends and family when suddenly you thought back to the night before and allowed a smile to grow on your face.

“I kissed Peter Parker.”

-

Notes; honestly that was really long and not very romantic, but I hoped you enjoyed anyways

general taglist:

@devin-marie , @imagine-lovebug , @nedthegay , @magicalturmoil , @poc-gotbang , @zabdisamor , @romance-geek , @hollandshearteyes , @jackiehollanderr , @etudaire , @spiderperalta , @mapreza1

peter parker taglist:

@really-lucas , @exquisitebts , @pastelastronomy24 , @eridanuswave , @snowxbarryxendgame , @s-ecret–garden , @obsiidio , @lost-in-translating , @awokenfandoms @estate-euphoric , @night-girls-world , @notanicekid , @guccixuxi ,

[midnightbluefox]

The Reylo Writing Den ( @thereylowritingden ) recently celebrated its one year anniversary, and part of our celebration included a fic exchange! The theme this time was what makes Reylo special to you and what you’ve come to love in the fics that you’ve read or written. Favorite tropes or one you’ve wanted to see done, an idea you’ve been wanting to read, a twist on the first Reylo fic you fell in love with, etc. 

Because of the theme, we got a huge variety of fics written submitted by over forty extremely talented writers. Please enjoy and support our lovely and giving authors <3

+ fic is mature/explicit

* fic is a WIP/ currently incomplete

________________________

+ Night Music by @thelastmorozova for @3todream3 :  Kylo getting it on with Rey while still wearing his gloves and helmet.

+* This Game We Play by @midnightbluefox for @sand-its-everywhere : Rey’s always thought her roommate was attractive, but when she catches him with only a towel on, a contest slowly ensues to see who can drive the other more insane as time goes on.

Or, where Rey and Ben are both idiots in denial and refuse to give in.

+* Red Letter by @ohwise1ne for crossingwinter : His old name—the one no one calls him anymore, no one even knows—stretches in bold lettering across the front of the envelope.

There is no record of that person living in this apartment building. Ben has made sure of it.

They’ve found him anyway.

When Ben is summoned to be bonded with a compatible Alpha mate, everything he’s worked for comes crashing down—especially when she turns out to be the rising protégé of his enemy.

+* When Little Somethings Overturn Everything by CaffeinatedJediRey for @rrwilson66 : Rey's got it all: fantastic friends, a great mother, and a promising tenure-track job as a history professor. Yet, on the eve of her 31st birthday, Rey finds herself wondering where her life's headed while she's eating by herself after a conference presentation.

Ben Solo, a rival professor from her department, joins her for dinner after seeing her dining alone. He turns out to be more than she expects.

Let's just say things will not go the way Rey thinks they will.

+* Clear Skies by @eveningeyes for CaffeinatedJediRey : A handsome smuggler is found sneaking through Starkiller Base, and to Kira Ren's dismay, Snoke hires the guy to take her to find Leia Organa's secret Resistance base.

OR

INTERGALACTIC ROAD TRIP 2019]

+ A Five Percent Chance by @sand-its-everywhere for @hellomelusine :  Ben is alone, and he likes it that way. He keeps to himself, and doesn't really want or need a relationship, but that doesn't stop his mother from trying to set him up with random people... until one day she sets him up with his childhood best friend... and both of them make it their mission for this to be the worst date ever... after all, they've got one hundred dollars promised to them by Leia if it is.

Blushing PINK by @tazwren for @kylotrashforever : Ben Solo is struck by a beautiful girl, for the first time in his life, but has no clue how to talk to her. Enter a friend who gives him highly questionable advice.

Or - how Ben Solo bought bags of lingerie for a non-existent girlfriend!

+ Fucking PINK by @tazwren for @kylotrashforever: Ben and Rey and all those bags of lingerie he bought.

Or - how Ben Solo is a virgin no more.

+* Delicate Matters by @kylotrashforever for @erney007 : His senses trickle back in, and he realizes something is covering his face. Reaching, he snatches the gauzy material that he recognizes is lace of some sort, holding it out in front of him and squinting his eyes.

What the fuck?

He knows without a doubt, with one hundred percent certainty, that he did not have a woman here last night.

So why the fuck is there a pair of women’s underwear on his face?

In which something falls into Ben’s lap (or more accurately his face) that he didn’t expect.

+* is this a sacrifice?  by @deadlikemoi for @kylosgirl9593 : "What are you giving up for Lent?" The question is posed to Rey by a friend of Rose's, a girl who goes by KK, and Rey has to search her mind for an answer.

That is the problem with going to a University that is religiously affiliated; most people assume that you follow that same tenet without bothering to ask, and it has gotten her into trouble more than a few times.

"Rey's not—" Finn tries to save her, it is a valiant effort, but the filter between her mouth and her brain is undergoing routine maintenance and a few words squeak through before she can stop herself.

"Sex. I'm giving up sex for Lent."

+ Bobbing Along by @polkadotdotdotreylo for @sweetkyloren : Ever since an incident as a child, Rey has had a fear of the water.

When your boyfriend owns a pool, who better to teach you how to swim?

+ A Poetic Match by @commandercrouton for @polkadotdotdotreylo : It didn’t matter who was here at the moment. The only thing Rey could focus on was that scent. Her wide hazel eyes circled the room as she tried to see the one who was emitting those delectable pheromones. How was no one else in this room reacting? The smell was making her crazy, and she dug her nails into her skin. She would know this scent anywhere.

She found him frozen by the podium, staring at her with the same look she knew she was giving him. She felt her thighs clench in anticipation as memories of their last, and only, time together filled her brain.

“Rey, is everything okay? Your scent...shifted,” Poe inquired tentatively.

“What?” she asked, not willing to take her eyes off the man in front of the room.

“Why is Professor Solo staring at you like you killed his pet cat?”

At this statement, Rey looked at Poe, realization dawning on her. No, not this, anything but this. This wasn’t a professor. He was something entirely different to her.

Alpha.

+* By The Moonlight by @my-jedi-life for @eveningeyes : Kylo Ren is being hailed as the "next Stan Lee" in the world of graphic novelists... but he holds a secret. His books are really about his life.

Rey Kenobi is an up and coming journalist who lands the interview of a lifetime with Kylo Ren.

* Black Ties & White Lies by @happilyeveraftereveryday for @looc-at-me : The plan was simple. Sneak in, kick Paige's ex-boyfriend's ass, then sneak out. But Rey did not plan on arguing with an unfairly hot but unsurprisingly elitist Greek god of a man while looking for said ex-boyfriend, especially when he took offense to her refusing to dance with him for some reason.

And she definitely didn't plan on kissing him.

Or how a masquerade party leads to unexpected actions, feelings, and consequences, along with Ben Solo's Cinderella dashing away without even leaving him a shoe behind. Nevertheless, he's determined to find her.

+* Your Eyes (Are Holding Up the Sky) by @em-is-writing for DagaGada :  Ben Solo life is falling apart (as much as one high school senior's life can) - he's failing Pre-Calculus, has been put on academic probation, and can't play on the basketball team until he pulls his grades up. When he's assigned a tutor, he thinks this will be an unmitigated disaster. Life has other plans.

+ But Not To Me by @littlethingsfic for ArdeaJestin : “…Ben?”

He memorizes every detail of her face — flushed cheeks, creased brows, dark eyelashes, wisps of loose hair — framed by the eerie quiet of their destruction. His body is restless like it might burst at the seams, thrilled and dazed by her, by their conquest, by their…

He searches for the words to say but everything sounds wrong. He charges in and decides not to say anything at all,

“Rey, I don’t care about the kriffing fleet —”

He grabs her and kisses her hard.

+ Cheers to Phasma’s Flaming Vibrator by @3todream3 for @rakefiree :  An unfortunate office fire has caused renovations, and the ever punctual Ben Solo has to share an office with Rey Johnson with whom he has a history. He just wish he could remember what he did to piss her off. She apparently doesn't like him much and annoys him with Candy Crush and other little things, not letting him get any work done. Being cooped up in the small office is going to be the death of Ben. What on earth could happen when tempers flare and hormones go crazy???

+* Seven Days with my Toes in the Sand by @erney007 for @em-is-writing :  Memory in his dream, emptiness in his hand, with his toes in the sand. Will she be the one who shows him how to love again?

Desert Magic by @roguesinside for @spiegatrixlestrange : He was hungry, always so hungry. He sweated through the sheets when he dreamed of the desert sun. Shivered under piles of blanket when the sand was lit only by the moons. He tried to magic up an apple, a glass of cool water but the lifeforce around him was so dim that the simple charm wasted away in the desert sand.

The dreams saved him.

+ Oh Captain, My Captain by @elleren31 for @littlethingsfic : In the midst of the Civil War, telegraph officer Captain Samuel Beckwith returns to Washington D.C. and is immediately taken by a beautiful young farmwoman. But love in a time of war can be difficult, especially when you work for the President of the United States.

Historical accuracy AND inaccuracies. Earns its rating later on.

+* Royal Blood by @sweetkyloren for @deadlikemoi : Rey has lived on the streets of Aldera for as long as she can remember but when an aide to Queen Leia takes Rey under her wing she finds herself living a life most can only dream about.

In the years that follow, Rey soon finds herself falling for her two best friends who also happen to be the two heirs to the throne: Ben and Kylo.

+ Ready For It? by @rrwilson66 for @elleren31 :   A tale as old as time, the story of a beast of a killer and a beautiful thief fighting to be together.

+* Unrequited by @rakefiree for @reyloandotherfandoms : Ben loves Rey. Rey loves Ben.

He thinks she loves someone else. She thinks he knows how she feels and doesn't reciprocate the feelings.

What happens when they are trapped in the same house for a weekend?

OR

Welcome to Ben and Rey Pain Train! We have a dog... and stuff.

+* Swipes and Seduction (a tinder AU) by @galaxytrueffle for @tazwren : “Ben.” Was still a faceless and detail-less individuum on tinder. Thus he needed to add his career, height and a little text- before rounding up his introduction with a photograph.

Ben. Corporate lawyer. 189 cm.

What else was there to say about him?

“Hi. I am Ben. 32 years old. I work as a tax lawyer for a well known automotive company. My wife died and now I am a single parent- I work all the time and have literally no hobbies beside working out, one weekly WoW session and spending time with my child on the weekends. Oh- and I haven’t had sex for ages. So if you are interested- match me?”

That is what he should have written- the reality.

But- this was the internet...he didn’t have to be so honest. Especially not in the beginning.

.....

IT’S A MATCH!

You and Rey<3 have liked each other.

+* Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost by @loveofescapism for @reyloner : “Okay, what if you do find them and they send you away?”

“They won’t.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, and for once he looked like he was genuinely curious to hear her answer. Which, if he wasn’t pissing her off so much, she would have answered much nicer than she did.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I’m their daughter?” she said sarcastically, “They had a good reason for giving me up, you’ll see.”

---

Rey is traveling the world to find her birth parents after her guardian Maz passes way. She was excited to rediscover herself and more importantly, where she came from. The only thing she wasn't excited about, was the fact that Ben Solo was tagging along for the journey, his pen and notebook in hand.  

+ A wonderous place for you and me by @kylosgirl9593 for @galaxytrueffle : It's Ben Solo's 30th birthday and his friends decide to throw him a little 'Party’ Rey however has a few *special* presents for Ben. ------------ Ben laid on the ground, hands up in surrender. Rey had one foot on his chest, pinning him down to the ground, he could easily take her down, but he had to accept his defeat.“You had to know this was coming. You just had to. You couldn’t run from me forever, Solo,” she said as she pointed the gun to his chest. She smiled in victory. “Game over.” She pulled the trigger and the green laser beamed through the barrel. The sound of Pac-Man dying filled the room.

+ Close Encounters by @deedreamer for @loveofescapism : It’s like Rey's own personal porn reel is playing against the inside of her lids. Her body is reacting without her permission.

She sucks in a breath and re-crosses her legs, suddenly feeling a tingling sensation at her center. Her nipples harden and strain against the fabric of her bra and the silky material of her shell is cool against her belly, making the sensation even more extreme.

Rey feels her chest and cheeks flush, and she wonders if she looks as hot and bothered as she feels. Because that would be really embarrassing. She’s a professional, for God’s sake.

+* Don’t You Forget About Me by @rebelrebelreylo for @my-jedi-life : He wrote the letter ten years ago, but it’s still burning a hole in his pocket.

—

Dear Mr. Skywalker, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are.

You see us as you want to see us… In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions.

But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain…

And an athlete…

And a basket case…

A prince…

And a criminal.

Does that answer your question?

Sincerely — The Breakfast Club.

—

A Breakfast Club AU with not-quite-neat-parallels written for MyJediLife for the Reylo Writing Den Anniversary Exchange. (Yes — Rey is more Bender than anyone else.)

+* A Year of Me and You by crossingwinter for @kylolita : “After you move in with one another, give yourself six months to like one another again,” Maz says, looking at Rey seriously through her bottlecap glasses. 

“I’m not going to fall out of love with—”

“No, no. Not love. Love’s not got anything to do with it, child. Like.”

--

Non-linear vignettes of various length, set during the first year Rey and Ben live together.

Ben’s Body by @shewhospeakswiththunder for @thelastmorozova :  AU. Rey is an up and coming sculptor specialising in human shape and form. Her new next door neighbour has a body to die for and she's determined to preserve it in marble forever. Now she just has to convince dashing and reclusive Ben to model for her. 

Preferably naked.

+* Sounds of Passion by DagaGada for @rebelrebelreylo : The Sound of Music Modern AU. The two actors meet in the theater production. He's Von Trapp and she's Maria. He's a big star who got roped into it by his mother, who owns the theater. She's fresh out of Juilliard.

Will they go past their hate at first sight? What if the heated fight turns into something different but equally heated? Will they find passion for theatre and each other together?

* Grabbing Your Attention in Detention for @shewhospeakswiththunder by @ashtyntaytertot :  Ben is a troubled teen in high school and Rey doesn't like him because of that, but he likes her. A lot.

+ Let Me Put My Darkness In You by ArdeaJestin for @terestriel :  Hux catches his boss composing love poems, attempts to wreak havoc, and wonders why smartphones don't exist.

+* At the Stroke of Midnight by @bunilicious for @midnightbluefox : He knew.

The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning, and it was only the warmth of his hand on her elbow that kept her upright. How else could she explain the determination beneath his soulful gaze?

He was iron, wrapped in the finest velvet.

“Rey,” Ben spoke at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yes, she wanted to scream. I am the masked woman who waltzed with you underneath the moonlight. The one who ran away when the clock struck twelve. The one who lost her shoe at the foot of the stairs.

But he had to say it first. He had to.

“Rey.” He took a deep breath, eyes fixed upon her expectant face. “I need you to help me find her.”

Her dreams were made of glass. And in that moment they had shattered.

-------

A REYLO VICTORIAN / CINDERELLA AU

+* Ravenous by @aknightofwren for @bunilicious :  38 ABY. Nearly four decades since the Battle of Yavin. The greatest of all great wars has finally come to an end. The Resistance has been disbanded, allowing those seeking comfort and security among their ranks to finally pursue the lives they had always dreamt of. But something sinister is lurking in the lush greens of the Forest Moon of Endor, something that not even the Skywalker's could have seen coming.

+ Shape of you by @looc-at-me for @deedreamer :  Ben Solo has been babysitting a group of grumpy old men who are often referred to as immortal rock legends for nearly two years and he's at his wits end. Deciding to spend the last concert of The Vaders worldwide tour on the ground floor with the other fans instead of backstage, Ben manages to meet a brown-haired beauty and they instantly connect before a family secret resurfaces.

+* Refuse Me by @kylolita for @aknightofwren : It’s the most contact she’s received in years, since her Grandpa was still alive.

This Alpha’s touch is electric, completely unfamiliar but just what she needs. Her eyes automatically find his, they are molten brown, and everything in her wants to examine those eyes forever and-

What am I doing? some sensible part of her screams at herself. Whatever he bids, another part answers.

Rey’s plan to live her life to the fullest as an Alpha falls apart when a classmate discovers her secret.

* And There You Were by @reyloandotherfandoms for @happilyeveraftereveryday : The phone rings in the middle of the night, and it's some man Rey doesn't know, demanding to speak to someone whose name she does not recognize. Why she doesn't just hang up on him is beyond her.

But she doesn't.

+* Love Potions and Legalities by @hellomelusine for @ohwise1ne :  When Kylo Ren, best Law Enforcement Warlock on Leia Organa-Solo's team, is tasked with apprehending a girl, untrained, but blatantly brewing and selling illegal love potions, he's less than enthused, the task beneath his station. What he expects and what he gets are two wildly different things when he finally breezes into Rey's shop in the desert town of Niima, Jakku.

+* Kingdom for a Kiss by @reyloner for @commandercrouton : “His name day is only moonturn away — there’s to be a great feast in his honour. And, best of all, a tourney he’ll be sure to compete in. He’s a good jouster — I have faith in his victory.” She leans in, a sly smile working alighting her elegant features. “Winning make men bold. It warms the blood, inflates their egos. It makes my Husband insufferable and my son want to celebrate.”

 “Oh.” Rey frowns. “How can you be sure he’ll win?”

“I cannot.” Leia admits. “But I can hope.”

-

Lady Rey Kenobi, the last surviving member of a once great house, is to wed the future King of Naboo. 

Only, Prince Benjamin Amidala seems determined to avoid her at all costs - even in consummating the marriage.

+* No Deliverance by @orkindofamazing for @ashtyntaytertot : Kylo Ren had seen beauty, witnessed the splendor of creation and the power of destruction, was well acquainted with desire and longing. Yet none of it compared to the strength and beauty of the tempest he was witnessing here.

The only thing he understood with any degree of certainty was the fact that he inexplicably wanted to be closer. In a trance-like state, he advanced, and his feet seemed to move across the ground of their own volition.

-

Kylo Ren wasn't very good at being a demon, but then he hadn't been a very successful angel, either. However, when he is sent to tempt and bind an immortal named Rey, it's a challenge unlike anything he's faced before.

+ Art for You Octopi My Heart by @spiegatrixlestrange for @orkindofamazing :  An art gift for an amazing person.

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Every single one of these fics was so wonderful and we are so lucky to have such talented people in our discord server! A huge thanks to everyone who participated, we can’t wait to do the next one!